Rock 'n roll, eventually..

I was like a kid in a sweet shop when I heard that 70s punk band The Exploited were playing a one-off gig at The Ritz in Manchester, and I suddenly had this bizarre vision of myself as a doddery old bloke turning up to watch the relics of some long-split band slowly going through their set at tea-party in Manchester Town Hall. You know, like 'old people' go to dances of a Wednesday afternoon? Or sit in the park watching brass bands on Sundays? I'd be just like that "Ah, the old ones.." I'd sigh "They don't write 'em like that any more! Eeeeh, Mildred, look at Charlie Harper go! He's a hundred and six, you know!..."
Bloody Nora!...

You spin me round..

I watched a great little documentary last night called 'Sound it out', the actual name of the only remaining record shop in Stockton, near Newcastle. It's a lovely little film, and I'm glad to know there are still plenty of music 'nuts' out there keeping vinyl well and truly alive. By sheer coincidence - as so often happens - I came across this shot in my archive the other day. It's the family record player, purloined by me and being played on my top bunk bed in 1977. I can just make out 'No more heroes' by The Stranglers on the top of the pile of singles and, before you ask, yes, I've still got it! It's filed alphabetically between Rod Stewart and the Stray Cats (I know, I know but forgive me, I was young!) I was talking about LPs with a lady once, and her teenage daughter butted in as we chatted. "Lps?.." she said, pulling a funny face "Aren't they those black plate things that you scratched with a needle?"... !