Eight
At school Richard had been the boy most likely. He won a debating competition and collected A-grade Highers with case. When punk came along in '76/'77 Richard embraced it. Only two copies of Anarchy in the UK reached town: Richard got one and Senga Somerville the other. At youth clubs and school discos, Richard acted as DJ playing Shirley and Co’s Shame Shame Shame while his friends were listening to Tales from Topographic Oceans. Richard was first to wear an anti-Nazi League badge. Students who took part in the sit-ins to protest against the Biafran war would later admit to taking part ‘just for fun’: punk seemed different. Those who marched against the loathsome National Front in Lewisham projected an intensity of feeling. It was unfortunate that not all such demonstrations were as well motivated and executed. Too many causes were led by the ill-informed and supported by the ignorant. Mental said that pickets and demonstrators aspired to strength through exploitation and intimidation. It wasn’t honest like arguing and fighting.
Richard read avidly the music press of the late seventies: Julie Burchill, Tony Parsons, Jane Suck, Jonh Ingham, Jon Savage and the old guard: Charles Shaar Murray, Giovanni Dadomo and Nick Kent. Julie continued to write, adopting an extreme position then justifying it. She slagged off Catholics, worshipped Russia and supported Maggie in the Falklands. (Richard wrote into The Face saying that although Julie was right to support the fight against a Fascist junta, the British public would always be more motivated by the xenophobic side of the conflict.) Jon Savage became an art groupie. Tony Parsons wrote three bile-filled novels that never fully showed his talent. (His review of the first Clash LP was stuck on Richard's wall. Now that was writing.) Jane Suck became Jane Solanas, superdyke. Nick Kent’s signature appeared at the end of a few articles but they didn't seem very enthusiastic. He loved The Smiths, though. As for the others Richard didn't know where they were. He presumed they'd given up and gone fat. One of Richard's deepest regrets was that he hadn’t kept a chart of his most played records. He knew, though, that Parsons' and Burchill's The Boy Looked at Johnny was the book he had read most. While punk in the south attracted the arse-end of the media (high and low-brow), the provinces adopted the ‘No Fun’, ‘No Feelings’, ‘No Future’ triumvirate as dogma and it stuck like glue. Pun intended. The legacy of Sid Vicious meant spiky tops, leather jackets. The UK Subs, Oi and circles with A in the middle. Richard, though, continued to wear his anti-Nazi League badge through Tom Robinson, The Gang of Four, Cut, London Calling, Paul Morley and Dave McCullough.
Richard thought he'd be intimidated at university. He expected to meet people who knew everything about Dylan, Kafka and Scorsese. He was wrong, of course. The spirit of the Biafra sit-ins reigned. Like the hippies who had never heard of Muddy Waters and the punks who never bought any reggae, the students never did more than they had to. Richard left his degree course in English at the end of the third year. ‘I wanted to be trained in logic,’ he told Archie. 'I wanted to be educated to the extent whereby I no longer made stupid mistakes about things. I wanted common sense. One of my teachers at school said that he had been trained in logic at university. He was completely cool. He could see through lies like that.
2 comments:
Pages 62-63.
Still hate that front cover. Sort of basic, literal shit that a mug like me would come up with. The original cover for the book was much cooler, even if it didn't make much sense in the context of the novel itself.
Re-read this for the 7th or 8th time (3rd time since living in the States), which doesn't seem a lot, to be honest, when you consider how often I sing its praises. I fear if I read it too often, certain flaws might bubble up and never want to put myself in a position where I start to fall out of love with the book because of over-familiarity. It has meant so much to me over the years.
I picked it up again because my reading mojo continues to be at a low ebb, and I needed a 'cosy' re-read. I also originally picked it up because this particular copy is festooned - where did that come from? - with green post-it notes where I previously meant to make a spotify playlist of all the songs (approvingly) cited in the book . . . and that's a lot of songs. I write approvingly because at one point the main characters have a collective conniption (who's been reading Nora Ephron essays?) when someone selects Jeff Beck's Hi Ho Silver Lining on the jukebox. But surely if the book playlist was true to itself, it would include Jeff Beck's pop moment? Maybe if I ever get around to making up the playlist, I'll properly decide in the moment.
No particular idea why I selected this particular passage to illustrate the flavour of the book. I increasingly find it difficult to find a particularly apt sentence or passage from a book, and end up cutting and pasting too much. (Hello copyright lawyers.)
I guess my rationalisation this time is that I know I will eventually re-read this book again, and a short cut for selecting such passages is that I will in future focus on the four main characters each and every time. This time Richard, next time Davie, then Mental and returning back to Archie. It starts and ends with Archie. Always and forever more.
If the above is garbled and littered with errors, I apologise. I wrote it off the cuff late at night and, as is my tendency, I didn't proof read before pressing 'publish'.
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