The 1980s

I remember the 1980s being a bit try-hard. And it wasn’t just John Adams: much 80s music was either anthemic and righteous (U2, Tears for Fears, Bruce Springsteen, Pat Benatar), or silly and scatty (‘Neutron Dance’).

I thought the ‘60s & 70s were more musically interesting and experimental; by the eighties, corporatism had set in and musicianship devolved to three portentous notes on a wobbly Countdown synthesiser.

But, hey, the decade that produced aural gems such as John Howard sounding like Donald Duck, and Diamanda Galas’ scream opera can’t be all bad.

(I guess we all treat the decade that we emerged as adolescents discovering pop culture as the most significant. Plenty of fiftysomethings I know are still stuck with ‘American Pie,’ Cream, etc. But haven’t they heard of Feist, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Beck, Gomez or Broken SocialScene? Come into the Noughties, the water’s fine.)

book launch

We joked about the difficulty of finding 50 different phrases to write in the book at one’s launch. So I suggested to Stefan that he write me something obscene. He happily obliged, writing: “Cunt. Fuck. Tits. John Howard.” (My four favourite things – except one.)