HMV
I wish HMV would bring back those listening booths they used to have in Oxford Street. I spent many a happy Saturday listening to the latest LPs by the likes of Cliff Richard and Kenny Ball. Didn't need to buy any! Comment: Facebook Group Barry Shaw
Harry Partch - Delusion Of Fury - 1971 Columbia
Bought in London at HMV, Oxford Street, London. I have only the haziest memory of when I first heard of this guy. I believe that it was Tony Visconti, my oft-times producer, who clued me in. A madman of sorts and certainly a one time hobo, Partch set about inventing and making dozens of the most extraordinary instruments (When was the last time you saw someone playing the Bloboy, the Eucal Blossom or the Spoils of War. How do you tune a Spoils of War, I wonder?) then, between the 1930s and the 1970s, wrote wondrous and evocative compositions for them, his subjects ranging from mythology to days riding the trains during the depression. 'Delusion' represents the best overview of what Parch got up to. By turns creepy as hell then positively rocking. Having chosen a musical path that departed from the mainstream composers, he laid the ground for people like Terry Riley and La Monte Young.
David Bowie
Sounds Of My Universe.
"I bought Every Picture Tells a Story before anyone else got it, and then it became a huge album, because it was like I was a part of it, or something, before anyone else got into it."
For Jones, it may have been a badge of honor, but for a kid who stole his way through adolescence (he'd proudly accumulated 13 pricey Ben Sherman shirts and numerous pairs of Doc Martens at one point), the tale holds special meaning.
"I don't think you could steal records," Jones tells me when I press him as to why he didn't simply purloin the album. "No, I actually bought Rod Stewart 1971 album Every Picture Tells a Story. I even remember where I bought it: I bought it at HMV on Oxford Street, on a Saturday afternoon. But I don't know why I paid for it, now that you ask. I don't know, but I guess that must mean something."
Steve Jones, Sex Pistols
Harry Partch - Delusion Of Fury - 1971 Columbia
Bought in London at HMV, Oxford Street, London. I have only the haziest memory of when I first heard of this guy. I believe that it was Tony Visconti, my oft-times producer, who clued me in. A madman of sorts and certainly a one time hobo, Partch set about inventing and making dozens of the most extraordinary instruments (When was the last time you saw someone playing the Bloboy, the Eucal Blossom or the Spoils of War. How do you tune a Spoils of War, I wonder?) then, between the 1930s and the 1970s, wrote wondrous and evocative compositions for them, his subjects ranging from mythology to days riding the trains during the depression. 'Delusion' represents the best overview of what Parch got up to. By turns creepy as hell then positively rocking. Having chosen a musical path that departed from the mainstream composers, he laid the ground for people like Terry Riley and La Monte Young.
David Bowie
Sounds Of My Universe.
"I bought Every Picture Tells a Story before anyone else got it, and then it became a huge album, because it was like I was a part of it, or something, before anyone else got into it."
For Jones, it may have been a badge of honor, but for a kid who stole his way through adolescence (he'd proudly accumulated 13 pricey Ben Sherman shirts and numerous pairs of Doc Martens at one point), the tale holds special meaning.
"I don't think you could steal records," Jones tells me when I press him as to why he didn't simply purloin the album. "No, I actually bought Rod Stewart 1971 album Every Picture Tells a Story. I even remember where I bought it: I bought it at HMV on Oxford Street, on a Saturday afternoon. But I don't know why I paid for it, now that you ask. I don't know, but I guess that must mean something."
Steve Jones, Sex Pistols
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Bag Steve Richards
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Jazz Monthly 1970
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International Times 1969
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