music
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On the 18th of April 1975, I was part of the reverent mass of mostly males in the Apollo, Glasgow. Steve Howe played The Clap. Jon Anderson sang in that twee angelic monotone. I really didn’t understand the complications of the near-songless music, possessing none of Yes’s albums. But the band were huge, somehow I’d…
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Those were the days of miracles and wonder… Glasgow 1985, and it’s the Rock Garden in Queen Street, sometimes the Halt in Woodlands Road, the Fixx in Miller Street. All kinds of London record company characters are blowing in via the Holiday Inn to check out the action. The haircuts, the clothes, the drugs and…
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The culling of late night BBC Radio Scotland. “The Bauerisation of Scottish public broadcasting.”
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I don’t want a Hermes tie or a Paul Smith suit I just want a decent pair of Wellington boots So that through the deepest mud I can easily trudge Ones that sit secure on my feet, so they never budge If your boot comes off in a boggy patch of ground And with sock…
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On not-dancing, being a medical sanitation and hygiene executive, and featuring a two-hour playlist of my favourite Northern Soul and Tamla tracks I don’t dance, much to my wife’s annoyance. At least, I don’t dance if I can possibly help it. Sore knees, ignorance of the steps involved in the more obscure Scottish Scottisches, jigs…
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All come to look for America: Del Amitri and me You know The Sopranos title sequence? Tony’s trip from Manhattan to Newark on the New Jersey Turnpike, soundtracked by The Alabama 3? Thirty-nine years ago I was driving a hired splitter van at the start of a journey initially to Florida, then California and back…
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Please be understanding and careful with this. It’s a rough sketch of a performance, needless to say with no artificial intelligence involved. There are a few stumbles and buzzes, but to be honest it’s likely I’ll never sing this song again. Also, the song will be upsetting for anyone who’s either lost a pet or…
