I remember when I suppose I was about 10 and beginning to take note of the music and the charts. This burgeoning interest was fuelled in part by an awakening driven by two things: Top of the Pops & Girls. Girls liked music, I liked girls; ergo I like music. Simple.
Things were complicated by the fact that the chart stars of the day were androgynous and confusing chaps(?) like Marc Bolan & David Bowie. Even grown up bovver boys Slade dressed a bit bloody weird. Anyway, girls liked musicians more than they liked footballers. So, whilst not turning my back on 'the beautiful game', I needed to become a musician. No problem.
All you need is a tennis racket, some cardboard, sellotape, marker pen and some string. Within an hour I had knocked up a 'Fender Slazengercaster' - it was mint! Of course, it didn't make a sound, at least nothing like Bolan's riff to 20th Century Boy. More of a dull pfft - but hey I'm only interested in miming, like they do on 'Top of the Pops'.
Guitar - done!
What to wear next? And this is where the wheels started to come off. I enlisted my mum in this tricky transformation from 10 year-old sporty schoolboy to POPSTAR. Unfortunately, I chose to style myself on the front man out of 'Wizzard', Roy Wood. Even now I cringe at the ham-fisted attempts to make myself look like Mr Wood - who much later I came to realise was a very talented musician (especially in The Move). A combination of make-up, back combing, assorted dressing gowns and other odd bits and pieces and the look was complete. I took one look in the upstairs full length mirror and was horrified!
What is the point of music?
I flung the Slazengercaster down, scraped the make-up off and put my Chelsea kit back on. If dressing up like a right berk was what being a popstar was all about, then count me out. I think it took a full three and a half years for me to even listen to music again....
And then The Jam came to town!
The End of Days
