The first LP I ever bought, (that is, I said to my dear mama, “I want that one”) was “Oliver”.
That’s right! The Lionel Bart musical.
Family pictures of the time show a cherubic little Maroon smiling into the camera with his face washed. I really thought those songs were the pinnacle of musical development and surely the best music ever. I was eleven years old.
Not three months later, I had turned twelve and bought my next LP.
It was Masters of Reality by Black Sabbath.
Back then, this stuff was called “underground music”. At first I thought it had something to do with the subway, no kidding.
I put it on my father’s gramophone, which had valves and up till then had only played Deutsch Gramophone records or Richard Crooks or Bing Crosby or Bob Newhart [v funny], anyhoo, I cranked it up a bit, and stuck on the record.
It took out three windows across the road and the police were called. Best day of my life.
I wonder if any of you remember such landmarks. Perhaps it was the day you put away your dinky cars and action man (with the bionic eye) and went cycling with the girl next door instead, or maybe you slung your Sindy doll in her box, and decided to hang about the park, or chip shop, or corner, chewing gum in a provocative manner…