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recalls, quickly agreed by everyone present that they were ready and willing to form a group. The names of groups such as Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Fleetwood Mac—all of whom Ivan had only the faintest conception of—were bandied about as worthy influences. Ivan felt nervous and out of his depth, being by some way the youngest person present, but his trump card was that he had the most handsome guitar, clean and modern with a bright white and red body, which everyone admired. Dave Evans, meanwhile, had a small white acoustic which his mother had bought secondhand for the princely sum of £1 (without strings). But, using Ivan’s electric, Dave demonstrated that he could play the solo from Irish rock hero Rory Gallagher’s “Blister on the Moon,” which put him in pole position for the role of lead guitarist.
    His brother, Dick, was the eldest, at seventeen. He had left school the previous year and, as if to signify his adult status, sported an outcrop of facial hair which he unconvincingly attempted to pass off as a beard. He had brought along a strange-looking object with a body shape that was apparently supposed to resemble a swan in flight, hand-painted bright yellow. Dick had constructed this instrument himself in the shed at the bottom of his garden, following instructions in an issue of Everyday Electronics magazine. The resulting instrument sounded about as convincing as it looked but at least Dick could play chords and hold down a rhythm. This was more than could be said for Paul, who had a big, battered acoustic which he tackled with energy and gusto rather than anything approaching skill or finesse. But Paul made up for his lack of musical skills with his sense of passion and conviction, already talking as if they were a band and not just an ill-sorted gathering of schoolboys.
    With four guitarists squeezing in between the fridge and the bread-bin, the designated rhythm section comprised Adam (who owned a cheap Ibanez-copy bass, which he couldn’t actually play but could certainly talk about) and Larry, who had opened the kitchen doors to create space in which to set up his drum kit, half in the kitchen and half in a small conservatory precariously attached to the back of the house. In these odd circumstances the meeting concluded with a chaotic jam session involving wobbly renditions of the Rolling Stones classics “Brown Sugar” and “Satisfaction.” There were too many guitarists, not enough amplification and no consensus as to the correct chord sequences of the songs being played, but none of that seemed to matter. A new star had appeared in the rock ’n’ roll firmament. For these plucky individuals—well, some of them, anyway—nothing would be the same again.
    Ivan returned home on the 31 bus to announce that he had joined a new band. They were going to be called Feedback (allegedly a reference to the whining noise that emerged when Adam plugged his bass into a guitar amp). I noted this news with only a modicum of concern. If the name was anything to go by, this lot were going to be even less impressive (if perhaps more audibly so) than Electronic Wizard.
    My thespian career was advancing, albeit at a much slower pace than I would have liked. I attended drama classes on Saturday afternoons and experienced a moment of encouragement when I won an acting competition known as the Father Matthew Feis (pronounced “fesh,” Gaelic for “entertainment.” I have no idea who Father Matthew was but presumably he liked to have a good time). It was a hideous affair, characterized by rampant overacting, with starry-eyed juveniles racing energetically about every inch of the stage as if convinced the theatrical arts were a branch of the Olympics. When my turn came I stood stock-still in the central spotlight. I would like to say that this was a carefully contrived dramatic device, but actually my legs were trembling so much I was afraid that if I