Sixties Music - its Social and Political Impact

Contents

• Towards the Age of Aquarius

• Pop culture versus reading culture and book culture: a caveat

• The aim and the purpose of this study

A. Studies on the 1960s

• George Melly, Revolt into Style (Oxford University Press 1970)

• Philipp Larkin, All What Jazz (London 1970; revised edition London 1985)

• Brian Masters, The Swinging Sixties (London 1985)

• Nick Bromell, Tomorrow Never Knows (University of Chicago Press 2000)

• Joe Boyd, White Bicycles (London 2005)

• John Schroeder, Sex and Violins. My Affair with Life, Love, and Music (Brighton 2009)

• Glyn Jones, Sound Man (NewYork 2014)

• Simon Napier-Bell, Black Vinyl White Powder (London 2002)

B. Autobiographies

• Keith Emerson, Pictures of an Exhibitionist (London 2004)

• Eddie Hardin, ALAB (ain’t life a bastard) (Winchester 2004)

• Ian McLagan, All the Rage (London 1998, revised edition 2000)

• Gary Wright, Dream Weaver. A memoir (New York 2024)

• Bill Bruford, The Autobiography (London 2009)

• Ginger Baker, Hellraiser (London 2009)

• Dick Heckstall-Smith, The Safest Place in the World (London 1989)

• Ray Davies, X-Ray (London 1994)

• Patrick Campbell-Lyons, Psychedelic Days. 1960-1969 (London 2009)

• Paul Brady, Crazy Dreams (Kildare 2022)

Towards the Age of Aquarius

The twentieth century is generally considered to be the most rapidly developing century in human history. After two world wars, which were the most devastating of all time, science and technology developed at a rapid pace, steadily reaching new heights, and trade between nations recovered surprisingly quickly and became increasingly successful. This had an impact on people's lifestyles worldwide, leading to changes on the moral, ethical, social, and political level, which eventually resulted in veritable revolutions. In particular, the period after World War II was characterized by ongoing unrest, which led to a new sense of orientation and successfully demanded many fundamental rights, such as the abolition of racial discrimination, the emancipation of women, and the liberation of peoples from political oppression around the world. It was an age of dialectics, rich in philosophical thought and intellectual challenges. Art, literature, architecture, and music were forging new paths. And as a matter of fact, from the mid-1950s onward, music played a central role in this fundamental restructuring process.

Pop culture versus reading culture and book culture: a caveat

The ever-increasing power of pop culture since the end of World War II has had far-reaching consequences. Popular music has become more and more consumer-oriented. It plays in shopping malls, at stations while we wait for the train, on hold while on the phone, and at home while cooking, bathing, or gardening. In short: It is ubiquitous entertainment, relaxation, pure enjoyment. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Nevertheless, we must acknowledge that this is a passive form of consumption that comes at the expense of our centuries-old active reading culture and book culture in general. If we listen to music all day until we are deaf and dumb, we are unlikely to pick up a book, let alone read one. That would be a strenuous active pursuit compared to the seemingly endless passive consumption of music. However, those who no longer read become victims of intellectual decline. As the Swiss physician and philosopher Paracelsus (Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim, 1493-1541) taught us in Renaissance times: Whatever we do, we have to maintain a healthy balance. Therefore, I would like to add a caveat here.

The aim and the purpose of this study

This study focuses on (A) research that explores, on a theoretical level, the influence of 1960s music in the UK and worldwide, followed by (B) autobiographies of musicians who lived through this period. Although these books are rich in intellectual insights, they generally attracted only moderate interest at the time of their publication. It is therefore all the more important to re-examine and reassess their valuable insights and their significant historical value.

And once again, before we begin, regarding the aim and purpose: Anyone expecting a hagiography of musicians or a paean to their recordings or concerts will be disappointed. Rather, the focus is on the formative contribution of music as a whole to society and politics, to the zeitgeist of the 1960s.

A. Studies on the 1960s

George Melly, Revolt into Style (Oxford University Press 1970)

The author (1926-2007) was a man of many talents. As a critic, he wrote about film and television for the Observer and the Daily Mail; he was a jazz and blues singer, and he was a passionate collector of surrealist art. As an expert in this field he also gave lectures. Melly began his musical career after the war, and he pursued it until his death. He bridged generations, in a sense, by starting as a jazz singer in the 1940s and performing with a punk band in the late 1970s. Beyond that, he was a popular, eccentric character, well known for his somewhat flamboyant clothing, all spiced up with his fine wit and British humour. He described his illustrious life in two biographies (Owning Up, 1965, Rum, Bum and Concertina, 1977).

In his book Revolt into Style he analyses the emergence of pop culture in Britain. He distinguishes between popular culture and the burgeoning pop culture in the second half of the century. The former retains its class consciousness and is, to use Melly’s words, “unconscious“ or “unselfconscious“, and its goal is entertainment rather than social change. Melly reminds us that British pop culture after the war consisted mainly of American jazz. This changed in the mid-1950s with Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock," which ushered in a new musical direction and shook off all previous patterns.

As Beatlemania arrived, the focus shifted entirely to Great Britain, and pop culture rapidly gained momentum. This was reflected in clothing, film, television, and above all, social behavior, which paid little attention to conventional social norms, even contradicting them and setting new standards. Correspondingly, in the 1960s, a distinct language probably developed for the first time, which the younger generation used to differentiate themselves from their fathers, also as a means of protest. It is a phenomenon that has persisted to this day.

In his chapter “Pop Literature“ Melly shows how pop culture changed the English language - terms such as guys (men), chicks (women) or to freak out found their way into the English vocabulary, similar to J. D. Salinger’s ubiquitous word “phoney“ in The Catcher in the Rye, which was published some twenty years earlier (1951), had crept into the English language. In individual chapters - for example, on visual art, film, television, radio, and theatre - Melly shows how pop culture conquered Great Britain and, in fact, the whole world. He also highlights the significant role played by the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London and the Independent Group between 1952 and 1962 in the development of jazz, pop culture, and pop art.

Melly concludes that “pop music has always formed the heart of pop culture“. Unlike popular culture it “permeated all stratas of society“, attracting and embracing people of all classes, thus blurring the social boundaries. Fifty-six years after the publication of Revolt into Style, George Melly’s theoretical reflections and his well-structured way of thinking remain stimulating. The fact that the book was published by Oxford University Press speaks volumes.   

Philipp Larkin, All What Jazz (London 1970; revised edition London 1985)

Some readers may be surprised to find Philipp Larkin (1922-1985) mentioned in this context. He is less known for music and more for having declined the position of Poet Laureate of Queen Elizabeth II. This refusal is highly surprising, as the prestigious office has been held since Jacobite times. Under King James I, Ben Jonson was the first poet to be appointed to this position, and he has been followed to the present day by renowned British authors such as John Dryden, William Wordsworth, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and more recently Ted Hughes, and Sir John Betjeman. Larkin declined the position, feeling inadequate for the task, primarily because he wrote extremely slowly, which meant his literary output barely increased. Understandably, it should be remembered that as librarian at the University of Hull, Larkin oversaw a vast book collection, which he had brilliantly organized and structured from the ground up.

But there is another, perhaps lesser-known aspect to Larkin's literary output. In fact, the two authors, George Melly and Philip Larkin, are connected in several ways. First and foremost, they share a common interest: their enduring passion for jazz. Larkin recounts that he was “hooked on jazz even before I heard any, and that what got me was the rhythm“ (p. 16). Just like Melly, who wrote jazz reviews for the Observer and the Daily Mail, Larkin wrote his own reviews for the Daily Telegraph from 1961 to 1971. In 1970, he finally published all of them in a single volume entitled "All What Jazz." A slightly revised and expanded edition followed in 1985. In the introduction to his book, Larkin illuminates his lifelong relationship with jazz. The introduction is therefore also a kind of biographical sketch, which makes it all the more insightful. Like Melly, Larkin also emphasizes that jazz was by far the most popular form of entertainment in Great Britain during the first half of the 20th century:

“In the thirties it was a fugitive minority interest (…) for the generations that came to adolescence between the wars jazz was that unique private excitement that youth seems to demand“ (p. 15).  

What is striking upon first reading is that Larkin's understanding, evaluation, and appreciation of jazz, as well as his preferences and expectations of the genre, differ significantly from Melly's. While Melly looked to the future with hope and welcomed the burgeoning pop culture with open arms, Larkin, in his later life, became pessimistic to the point of disillusionment.

“The jazz band in the night club declined (…) By this time I was quite certain that jazz had ceased to be produced. The society that had engendered it had gone, and would not return.“ (pp. 24-25).

Larkin views new developments in jazz with suspicion and, indeed, with open rejection. He refuses "modernist art" in both jazz and the visual arts:

“To say I don’t like modern jazz because it’s modernist art simply raises the question of why I don’t like modernist art: … as long as it was only [Charlie] Parker I didn’t like (…) My dislike of Pound and Picasso (…) The same can be said of Henry Moore and James Joyce (…).“ (p. 27).

As he continues: 

“The kind of jazz I liked was dying with its masters: George Lewis, Pee Wee Russell, Johnny Hodges, finally Armstrong himself (…).“ (p. 29).

Larkin aligned himself with and quoted Benny Green and James Lincoln Collier, who were known for their rather conservative stance on jazz. And while Melly eagerly anticipated new developments, Larkin categorically rejected them at the same time.

“And what was actually succeeding it - the inescapable whanging world of teenage pop - had dominated the music industry (…).“ (p. 29).

This development led Larkin to abandon writing further jazz reviews in the early 1970s. However, as much as he rejected the development that had begun in the early 1960s, he could not stop it, and it continued to flourish and gain ever more momentum.

Those interested should know that some of Philip Larkin's poems were set to music by the late British jazz saxophonist Barbara Thompson and performed by the Medici String Quartet at the London Jazz Festival in 1995. To my knowledge, no recording of this promising project exists, but - hopefully - it may still be in the BBC archives.

Brian Masters, The Swinging Sixties (London 1985)

This study is a treat for anyone interested in the subject, as it pokes its inquiring nose into virtually every corner, exploring the sixties society, its politics, arts, religion, and other aspects. 

According to Brian Masters the term “The Swinging Sixties“ was first coined by Melvin Lasky. As an anti-stalinist leftist and advocate of liberty and freedom of speech, Lasky likely welcomed the changes that ushered in the 1960s. In his first chapter, "Swinging London," Masters describes how the British capital, shaped by the American way of life after World War II, began to develop a new identity that subsequently spread successfully worldwide.

Culturally, London became the center of the world, a gathering place for the greats and the wealthy of literature, theater, music, and film - names like Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Robert Fraser, David Hockney, and David Frost are just a few examples - where people from all over the world desperately wanted to be. It was a decade that particularly appealed to young people who did not want to trust anyone over thirty. Today that seems strange, almost absurd, considering the Rolling Stones, who were among the biggest idols back then, are now over eighty. Significantly, many of the new British pop stars were all under thirty, many of them still teenagers.

London clothing and fashion - Mary Quant as a designer, or Twiggy as the super slim model - conquered the world. In Carnaby Street in the West End, John Stephen opened his first clothing store, followed by others that catered primarily to the working class – a completely new phenomenon. Gurus, Eastern philosophies and health food were ubiquitous. At the same time, television was conquering Britain and the world. David Frost's satire "What Was the Week That Was" and his "Frost Report" captivated millions of television viewers. And after being initially opposed and then reluctantly tolerated, private radio stations like Radio Caroline, safely based off the British coast, challenged the BBC's monopoly. Regarding print media, the satirical magazine Private Eye first appeared in 1961 and continues to enjoy unbroken success to this day.

As George Melly has pointed out, it was the lifestyle and the manners of working-class youth that set new standards. Not that Britain became a classless society, but the way of life of the gentry and the so-called upper class must undoubtedly have felt strongly challenged. The late 1960s were also a time of growing awareness of environmental threats. In 1970, Edward Goldsmith founded the journal The Ecologist, which - like Private Eye - continues to this day. This testifies to the intellectual achievements and legacy of this transformative decade.

In a separate chapter of his book, Masters devotes considerable attention to the "New Morality". Sex as a mere pastime without love had turned into a much-discussed topic and, it seems, was widespread. Sexual morality became increasingly lax. Tolerance was the central concept, and as a result, censorship in art, literature, theater, film, and television was drastically reduced and eventually abolished. The 1960s brought with them shocking consequences, which, however, mostly dissipated all too quickly.

Nevertheless, it took quite some time before D. H. Lawrence's "Lady Chatterley's Lover," John Cleland's "Fanny Hill“ - which had actually been first published over two hundred years earlier, in 1749 - William S. Burroughs's "Naked Lunch," and Hubert Selby's "Last Exit to Brooklyn" were no longer subject to censorship and in the 1960s and could be purchased in bookstores without further persecution. Section 2 of the Obscene Publications Act of 1959 was finally repealed. Using the examples of "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and "Fanny Hill," Brian Masters illustrates the arduous but ultimately successful path of these books to liberation.

Censorship also ended in British theatres, and controversial plays by Arnold Wesker, Peter Shaffer, John Osborne, Edward Bond, or Harold Pinter filled the stages. What had previously been a disadvantage now became fashionable: working-class accents were spoken on stage as a new phenomenon: “Working-class themes from working-class writers required working-class actors to present them.“ (p. 134). The musical "Hair," which ran for a long time in London, represented a complete departure from all familiar, established conventions. With the repeal of the anti-homosexual laws, which had been in force from 1533 to 1967, another story ended. In 1970 Diana Rigg dared to appear naked on stage in a performance of Abelard and Heloise, and nobody bothered much any more. And the case of former Secretary of State J. D. Profumo demonstrates how little it took, from today's perspective, to force a government official to resign due to a seemingly forbidden love affair. Masters’s final chapter focuses on the royal family and shows that they, too, were not immune to criticism because of their luxurious lifestyle. Lord Londonderry and Lord Altrincham are named as their most prominent critics. 

"The Swinging Sixties" is an extremely rewarding read, full of insights. Brian Masters, however, does not uncritically glorify the Age of Aquarius. He does not shy away from the darker sides of the social liberation and revolution of those years. He addresses drug abuse, imprisonment, depravity, and social exclusion, as many were unable to cope with their new-found freedom. Masters states: "Some excesses of the general exuberance were downright foolish and detrimental to social peace." And he poses the question: "Were we positive or negative, frivolous or mature?" His concerns remain unanswered: "The generation which has no moral values ​​has nothing to teach its children.“ (pp. 32, 45).

To conclude this part of our investigation, we present another five books that reflect on this decade. None of them were bestsellers, yet each has its own unique merits and thus contributes wonderfully to the overall picture of the hopes and disappointments of the past Age of Aquarius.

Nick Bromell, Tomorrow Never Knows (University of Chicago Press 2000)   

The American author examines the 1960s movement and youth rebellion from a US perspective. It was a time heavily influenced by drug culture, hence Bromell's subtitle: "Rock and Psychedelics in the 1960s." However, the author does not limit himself to this. His analysis devotes considerable attention to the political and social situation of the time, both in the US and worldwide. The 1960s movement in the US is seen as closely linked to two pressing issues: the Vietnam War and racial tensions. It arose from protest and developed into a distinct counterculture.

The author, who later became a professor of English and American literature at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and is also a historian, succeeds in weaving a dense network of connections. His diverse references open up a broad perspective. Interestingly, the upheavals of the late 1960s, viewed in their historical context, do not appear new and therefore do not surprise him. As he observes: “there’s a long-standing pattern of conflict between the dynamics of capitalism and the American construction of youth.“ (p. 152). He explains the philosophy and way of thinking of that decade and places it within a larger context. “The experience of breakthrough“ (p. 153) is thus both old and new, a point Bromell supports with a plethora of references to thinkers, philosophers, and artists from the past and present.

Among them, with a specifically American approach, are Ralph Waldo Emerson, William James, George Herbert Mead, Alan Ginsberg, Francis Fukuyama, Gregory Calvert, John Dewey, Kenneth Keniston, Todd Gitlin, Christopher Lasch, Michael Sandel or John Cage, as well as thinkers of the Old World such as Samuel Beckett, John Keats, Erik Erikson, Régis Debray, Paul Valéry, Jacques Ellul, Michel Foucault, Aldous Huxley, Martin Heidegger, R. D. Laing, Vaclav Havel or Friedrich Nietzsche. The large number of renowned and diverse thinkers listed is a deliberate choice, intended to illustrate the author's comprehensive and multifaceted perspective on the American counter-movement of the 1960s. Readers interested in this aspect will be rewarded with his profound insights. 

In comparison with Bromell, the scope of the subsequent studies on the sixties is narrower, although they are all still worth reading.

Joe Boyd, White Bicycles (London 2005)

In the mid-1960s, American Joe Boyd left the US and moved to London to work as a music producer. Boyd had a particular interest in British folk music, and he arrived at just the right time. The "trad. arr." genre was enjoying increasing popularity, and British musicians were finding new ways to express old folk melodies, often combining them with the progressive music that was so popular at the time. This was another sign of the changes taking place in the 1960s. Boyd founded his own label, and after selling it in the 1980s, he created another one. Through his companies, he produced the most important folk artists and their recordings of the era. He also increasingly worked with more conventional bands of the time.

We owe Joe Boyd a wealth of invaluable and incomparable recordings. He was an inventive spirit and tireless promoter who fostered many new talents and obviously did not shy away from risks to take them under his wing. Not all of his recordings sold equally well upon their initial release. But time will tell! Over the years virtually all of them have become classics and are still available almost sixty years later. What an achievement, what more can we say.

Boyd’s autobiography, White bicycles, concentrates primarily on the music, the musicians, and the production work. Politics and life at the time remain somewhat in the background, while the focus is on the fascinating story of all these unforgettable recordings that have made music history. Those favouring “trad. arr.“ will be delighted.

John Schroeder, Sex and Violins. My Affair with Life, Love, and Music (Brighton 2009)

The British author belongs in the same category as Joe Boyd, as he is also a music producer. His work ranges from light jazz music, performed by his orchestra Sounds Orchestral, to 1960s pop and soul. As the book reveals, this gifted entrepreneur was responsible for the production of no fewer than 170 artists, amongst them the most bright shining stars of the sixties. Schroeder tells his life story from the beginning, chronologically. And what a fascinating journey it is! Born in 1939 at the beginning of World War II, Schroeder's life is exceptionally rich. His book is unique in this genre: flawlessly narrated and spiced up with British humor, it paints a vivid picture of the atmosphere in Britain during and after World War II.

Furthermore, the book is illustrated with beautiful black-and-white photographs that visually complement and enhance the well-written text. We see pictures of Schroeder's childhood home, his school, and - curiously - even his headmaster's residence, a model Fiat Topolino, an Austin A30, a Jaguar Series II 3.4, a Mercedes 250 SL, and timeless Rolls-Royce limousines - all vehicles from the 1950s. There are also amusing snapshots of early pop groups. On the other hand, we also catch glimpses of more serious moments, such as Sir Edward Elgar at Abbey Road Studios or the author himself at the controls of an airplane, proudly displaying his pilot's license. There's even a photograph showing Schroeder's father in 1962, in the midst of the Cold War, during successful business dealings in Moscow, shaking hands with Soviet President Nikita Khrushchev. There was never a dull moment! Schroeder's autobiography brings the 1960s vividly to life in all their facets. A unique document that should not be missed.

And by the way, Swiss readers will be surprised to learn that John Schroeder spent a year in the Swiss city of Baden, working for Brown Boveri. His experiences there are extraordinary and therefore definitely worth reading.

Glyn Jones, Sound Man (NewYork 2014)

Jones undoubtedly ranks among the best sound engineers, having seemingly recorded all the major artists of the 1960s. As the title suggests, his memoirs focus so intently on music that the outside world fades into the background. Instead, the book centers on the music industry, the countless encounters with musicians, the shared joys, and also the occasional frictions or tensions. It is an autobiography particularly suited to those interested in the lives of producers and artists behind the scenes. It is well worth reading, as it offers insights into many hidden corners of social life during the turbulent 1960s.

Simon Napier-Bell, Black Vinyl White Powder (London 2002)

The author is perhaps best known for the music of the 1965 film "What's New Pussycat?". However, his merits extend far beyond this; he is another deserving producer of artists since the late 1950s and early 1960s. He appears to still be active today, thus looking back on some sixty years in the British music business. The first part of his memoirs is of particular interest to us, as it deals with our chosen decade. Here, in "Speeding London," with "All the Wrong Parties" and occasionally "The Acid Truth," not all that glitters is gold. Much like Jones's memoirs, "Black Vinyl..." offers another glimpse behind the scenes. Napier-Bell's account is consistently entertaining and, for the most part, witty, at times even hilarious. However, he also sheds light on some darker aspects, the everyday hardships and setbacks, the intrigues and deceptions. Whether he views life in the sixties from a positive perspective or not, the author presents it with sound judgment and a certain composure.

B. Autobiographies

Keith Emerson, Pictures of an Exhibitionist (London 2004)

The author's image on the cover of his autobiography leaves no room for doubt. With outstretched arms and open mouth, he leaps through the air. Keith Emerson was a man of boundless energy when he was on stage - this is well known to anyone familiar with his art and therefore requires no further explanation.

Towards the end of every concert he would briefly withdraw, only to return transformed for a lengthy encore. His usual attire was gone, and he was now clad in leather - trousers, jacket, boots. He looked incredibly dynamic. The large, red flame on the back of his leather jacket was an unmistakable symbol. As usual, he played "America," an adaptation of "West Side Story," and "Rondo" by Dave Brubeck, whom he admired, as he writes in his autobiography. He played as if in a frenzy, in a fit of rage, and there were plenty of jokes, too. Theatrically, he would lie down under the organ or stand on it while playing and throw two knives at the keys, which also earned him some criticism and contempt, as it was supposedly bordering on sadism. It was Keith's way of expressing his greatest passion for the music that he played. Some critics considered it a grotesque mania.

Reading his autobiography makes it clear that Keith Emersons's passion extended far beyond music. He emerges as an intellectually astute observer of social and political contexts. The assassination of John F. Kennedy deeply affected him. When the tragedy repeated itself in June 1968 with the murder of Kennedy's brother Robert, Emerson reacted with a desperate outcry and public protest. For this, he turned to the aforementioned "America". He had adapted the piece from "West Side Story," the musical by Stephen Sondheim and Leonard Bernstein. As an introduction, he used the main theme from Antonín Dvořák's "New World Symphony." The piece, with its powerful organ sound, was menacing enough and was unmistakably understood as a musical protest against the assassination of Robert Kennedy and the Vietnam War.

At the Royal Albert Hall (RAH), just days after the tragedy of Robert Kennedy, the audience was shocked when Emerson had a US flag burned during the performance. More precisely, as Emerson's autobiography reveals, it was not a cloth flag proper, but a large-scale painting of the flag that Emerson himself had created. "America" ​​was a protest song in the truest sense of the word, and since it was instrumental, it was paradoxically, in Emerson's words, "a protest instrumental," arguably the first recording of its kind. In the final bars underscored by a furious drum roll few words are spoken: "America is pregnant with promise and anticipation, but they are murdered by the hand of the inevitable." (Incidentally, some versions use "life" instead of "America".) The fact that this dark and ominous message was to be spoken by a three-year-old child (as Emerson reveals in his memoirs) made the outcry all the more powerful, and the instrumental protest song sounded all the more sombre as a result.

Emerson's protest came as a shock and was picked up by press, radio, and television worldwide. There were even threats of diplomatic intervention. As a matter of fact, the US ambassador to Great Britain had attended the London benefit concert, and as is well known, the American flag is sacrosanct for Americans. The misuse, let alone the burning of an American flag is considered a grave sacrilege. The RAH was therefore immediately under pressure, and action had to be taken. To protect its reputation, it imposed an indefinite performance ban on Keith Emerson. He had to promise the US government never to repeat such an act, otherwise he faced criminal charges and a lifetime ban from performing in the US. He evidently kept these conditions, because just a year later, in December 1969, he performed at the Fillmore East in New York. He and his band had clearly benefited from the scandal and were enjoying great popularity at the time. They played an outstanding set, which was released on CD forty years later, in 2009, but unfortunately has been out of print for many years and is now difficult to find. A true loss for serious collectors of the unique art of Keith Emerson.

As a consequence of this scandalous performance, Emerson, as mentioned, was banned from performing at the Royal Albert Hall for life. But history has its own rules. In the early 1990s, he reunited with Greg Lake and Carl Palmer as Emerson, Lake and Palmer, the undisputed pioneers and masters of 1970s creativity. And lo and behold: their first reunion concerts took place in October 1992 at London's Royal Albert Hall. They were released on CD immediately afterward and even broadcast on BBC television. Strangely enough, Emersons’s lifetime ban on public appearances at the RAH was no longer an issue, as if it had expired, as if it had died a natural death.

How can this be explained? The most obvious explanation is that in the intervening years Keith Emerson had become a living legend that no one dared to challenge. It is fair to say that he had won the battle, that time had decided in his favor.

And furthermore, he emerged victorious from another dispute. This refers to his falling out with Leonard Bernstein. As Emerson writes in his autobiography, Bernstein was deeply offended by his adaptation of the theme from West Side Story. After composing his Piano Concerto No. 1, Emerson met Bernstein by chance in Paris in 1976. Bernstein approached him and expressed great interest in the concerto, even before it was recorded. And he praised it highly. Recognizing Emerson's talent, Bernstein settled the dispute. Emerson had won another battle, but so had Bernstein, who demonstrated extraordinary magnanimity through his forgiveness. Such is the meeting of two noble minds, of two passionate musicians.

The episode about “America“ was chosen because it shows Keith Emerson in all his complexity and at his best. Undoubtedly, however, there are many other aspects of this autobiography that deserve closer examination. For example, his performances in Czechoslovakia during the so-called Cold War, immediately after the invasion by the Warsaw Pact troops in August 1968, and the many interesting observations he made there. Or his collaboration with Joseph Eger, then conductor of the New York Symphony Orchestra, which broke down the boundaries of musical conventions and successfully opened up new horizons (for instance in Five Bridges, written and recorded with Joseph Eger in October 1969, released in June 1970).

Then came his pioneering work with Robert Moog; Emerson was probably the first musician to use a Moog synthesizer as a solo instrument. And just as Herbert von Karajan was passionate about cars, Emerson was a motorcycle enthusiast. In his autobiography, he is pictured in Zurich, riding away from the city on a huge Yamaha after a concert at the Hallenstadion, dressed entirely in leather, wearing sunglasses and sporting a gleeful expression, followed by about forty Hells Angels roaring through Zurich together. As he explains: “(…) the Swiss Chapter of the Hell’s Angels were providing security in their own sweet way. Despite all the bad worldwide press these guys had been receiving (…) they appeared to be doing a good job. They also had an impressive array of bikes. (…) we got deeply involved in bike talks.“ (p. 257).

In Switzerland he also met the artist H. R. Giger, who designed the cover for the next recording, as well as the Argentinian Alberto Ginastera, whose “Toccata” he arranged, to the composer's delight (both on Brain Salad Surgery, 1973). And one Saturday afternoon in the seventies, a bearded, long-haired man could be seen playing the piano in the enormous windows of Bern's largest music store. The suspicion was confirmed, unbelievable as it may sound: it was Keith Emerson, killing time until the concert that evening. Since almost everyone walked past without noticing him, mistaking him for a salesman, Emerson felt safe and undisturbed. It is said that he subsequently bought two pianos and had them shipped to England.

As for the pervasive drug abuse of the 1960s – Emerson stayed away from it. He did not even smoke cigarettes. And besides, he was a successful womanizer. His narrative style is often light, sometimes frivolous, and always highly entertaining. He is a gifted storyteller with a keen sense of humor, and also of irony and sarcasm. His nuanced recollections are a great pleasure reading.

One might ask: What exactly makes Keith Emerson such an extraordinary musician? Besides his undeniable talent as a musician – on the piano, the organ, and all other keyboard instruments – it is his inexhaustible creativity, his daring, and his courage to break new ground that characterize his extensive body of work throughout his career. Added to this are his friendship and his admiration for fellow musicians, including Dave Brubeck, the conductor Joseph Eger, Chick Corea, and, per aspera ad astra: Leonard Bernstein.

Emerson was never one to grow tired, weary, lazy, or complacent. He was a passionate musician with many goals, and he kept the flame burning until the very end. This, unfortunately, became his tragedy and the pain of all who appreciated his art. When he was diagnosed with a neurological condition, he believed he would no longer be able to reach his usual high level of performance. In despair, he decided to take his own life in 2016 in California, shooting himself in bed. Keith Emerson died for his art. He is buried in Lancing, West Sussex, in the same grave as his parents. It is a poignant sight, always adorned with flowers, thank-you notes, greetings, and other mementos (cf. entries in the internet).

Photo: HMS

A signed copy of a largely unknown, rare work.

Eddie Hardin, ALAB (ain’t life a bastard) (Winchester 2004)

The author recounts his musical career, which began in the 1960s and lasted into the early 2000s. However, little is revealed about the prevailing zeitgeist of the 1960s, either in Great Britain or worldwide, as Hardin focuses closely on the music and rarely ventures beyond it.

Nevertheless, his chapter “Early Years” provides profound insights into life and the general atmosphere in England at that time, more precisely in London, where Hardin was born and raised. English society is portrayed as strongly class-conscious, as Hardin illustrates with the example of his parents' marriage. The couple could not have been more different. His father was the son of a wealthy antiques dealer from Kensington, a posh district in west London. He attended St. Paul's School, and since his passion lay in the somewhat aristocratic sport of horsemanship, he became a member of the Royal Horse Artillery, served in India, and later joined the Royal Air Force. “(….) his education was honed into that of an English gentleman, the kind that seemingly just doesn’t exist any more.“ (all quotations pp. 6-14).

Hardin's mother, on the other hand, came from a large, poor London family in Kennington, “the real thing“, as he comments, adding: “It’s quite incredible what difference an ’S’ could make in this instance.“ She was considerably younger than her husband. Based on their ages and social backgrounds, Hardin's parents do not seem like a perfect match at first glance. Indeed, from the author's perspective, their marriage was not without its problems, but ultimately it proved successful.

Regarding the general atmosphere in London in the 1960s, Hardin describes the hospitals as gloomy and desolate, with dreary, drab facades and interiors in the old Victorian style. The mere sight of them made him feel nauseous, yet, as he admits, the progress in this field during his lifetime was enormous.

Hardin's battle against smoking and alcohol accompanied him throughout his life. These habits, some might call them vices, he inherited from his father: “My father, like me, I regret to say, had Olympic drinking habits.“ As he notes, the 1960s were inextricably linked to “the beginning of drug awareness“, as people consumed stimulants in unprecedented quantities. Spencer Davis adds in his brief foreword: “(…) no one can ever take away his [i.e. Eddie Hardin’s] title of being the only holder of the triple platinum medal for wine and cigarette consumption in the universe.“ And what Eddie Hardin also shared with his father was his “little regard for organisation.“ The subtitles on the book jacket: “ain’t life a bastard“ and “Thirty-six years of musical mayhem“ hint at the main themes of this autobiography.

Regarding his alcohol consumption, he tells us that he only improved much later in life and that he regrets everything, just like his father did until his death. Nevertheless, the “mayhem“ in Eddie Hardin's life seemed endless, as it remains a recurring theme in his memoirs, even in his brief epilogue. 

Hardin described himself as a recluse who found it difficult to make friends throughout his life. He died in 2015 at the relatively young age of 66. His “Early Years” make a valuable contribution to understanding the British zeitgeist of the 1960s.

Here is a copy from Eddie Hardin's heyday, signed by him and Pete York, the "smallest big band in the world," as the extraordinary duo was called. 

Photo: HMS

Ian McLagan, All the Rage (London 1998, revised edition 2000)

The author began his career in the so-called mod scene of the middle 1960s, which led to Swinging London towards the end of the decade. Etymologically, the term "mod" derives from the modernists of the late 1950s, who, unlike the traditionalists, discovered modern jazz as a new form of expression for their identity. The true mods of the sixties were, as a rule, of working class origin, and their subculture was defined by their ostentatious passion for fashionable clothing, motor-cycles, for music in the style of rhythm and blues, and they spoke a somewhat rough language that everyone could understand.

In terms of fashion, Mary Quant's introduction of the miniskirt significantly contributed to the popularity of the mod movement, and music played a vital role as a means of expression. British bands with mod roots included the Small Faces with keyboardist Ian McLagan, the author of this book. Mod culture rebelled against mainstream society in many ways. It was loud, confident, youthful, and uncompromising. Drug use of any kind was an integral part of this movement from its inception in the late 1950s.

McLagan's "All the Rage" is a product of its time. Like the early modernists before him, he emphasizes the British love for jazz from the post-war period until the early 1960s, when Beatlemania arrived. He is a regular at “Carnaby Street, the Mecca of the Mods“ (p. 55), and the use of drugs, hashish, marijuana, opium, amphetamines, or other so-called substances, seems to be part of everyday life, and is therefore a recurrent theme in his memoirs. It is up to the readers of Ian McLagan's book to decide whether form and content were always in perfect balance in the mod culture of the sixties.

Gary Wright, Dream Weaver. A memoir (New York 2024)

Looking back, Gary Wright considers the small town of Cresskill, a rural area in New Jersey where he grew up in the late 1950s and 1960s, a “a young boy’s dream“ (p. 7). He loved living amidst the beauty of nature. “I wondered at the mystical power that created this subtle magical beauty“ (p. 9). He developed a passion for gardening, observed the local wildlife in the woods, and rejoiced at the first signs of spring in February or March after a harsh winter. In his youth he also discovered Hermann Hesse’s Siddharta, a book widely read in the sixties, which he experienced as an enlightenment on his road to self-discovery (p. 31).

Wright was always in search of the deeper meaning of life, and this was a first step in that direction. And it fits in well with this that he should first take a degree in psychology at New York University. Subsequently he studied medicine but did not pass his final exams, which he found very difficult to cope with: “I was numb and very confused: five years of studying down the drain.“ (p. 33).

His decision to pursue a postgraduate degree in psychology sparked a desire in him to go abroad, since, as he himself explains, psychology largely originated in Germany and Switzerland. He seized the opportunity and enrolled at the Free University of Berlin. The chapter about his years in Germany and other European countries during the Cold War is among the most interesting in his autobiography.

Wright had visited Italy and Greece and confesses to a deep thirst for knowledge: “(…) Europe where I could be part of a culture that inspired me both aesthetically and intellectually.“ (p. 33). He was impressed by German efficiency, and he also enrolled at the Goethe-Institut to study German language and culture. We get to know a passionate student:

“(…) I gradually immersed myself in the language, art, and culture, and things began brightening up for me. (…) From a cultural point of view, the sixties in European cities were something very new and fascinating for me (…) an environment that was so culturally and artistically appealing.“ (pp. 36, 44). 

West Berlin was then an exclave, completely surrounded by the territory of the German Democratic Republic (GDR). However, as an American citizen, Wright had an advantage over his West German study colleagues. He could visit the communist state, the “Eastern Zone“ - called “Ostzone“ in Western Germany - unhindered and without much red tape. He vividly describes these repeated visits, which, as he recounts, fascinated him. He was struck by the nearly empty shops with their long lines. Seeing students from China, Cuba, or other Eastern Bloc countries, whom he had never met before, was a completely new phenomenon for him - as must have been the case for most students from the West at that time – and he even managed to attend student parties at Humboldt University in East Berlin. Or he experienced a May Day celebration in East Berlin, a world fundamentally different from what he was used to: 

“(…) the East German army marched in goose-step synchronicity (…). Marching in the parade was compulsory. Red flags hung down from windows on the upper stories of buildings, and the event closed with a chilling speech by head of the German Democratic Republic, or East Germany, Walter Ulbricht, punctuated by crowds raising their clenched fists and shouting something like ‘Hail’. It was the closest thing to what I would have imagined a Nazi rally to be.“ (pp. 39-40).

Talking politics was risky, with the dreaded Stasi being ubiquitous. Fascinating as he experienced all this, he always felt a sense of paranoia wherever he went in the GDR.

When finally leaving West Berlin, and the Lange family with whom “Herr Wright“ stayed as a lodger, he adds: “I turned a page and closed a stormy chapter of my life“ (p. 41). His musical career in England followed (1967–1974), along with his subsequent worldwide success. However, his early years paint a different picture: that of a young, inquisitive intellectual. His experiences are unusual, and his story is compellingly told. 

Bill Bruford, The Autobiography (London 2009)

The rather voluminous book, at 351 pages, is rich in content and is very much in line with the image that we have of Bill Bruford. He is known as a creative and conscientious artist, which is reflected in these recollections. Bruford departs from the chronological order which autobiographies usually follow. Instead, the chapter headings pose questions that are then answered within the text. What an original way to structure a book like this! For instance, in chapter 14 (“Yes, but what do you do in the daytime“?) we gain insight into the author’s “occupational culture“, or in chapter 7 (“Do you like doing interviews?“) he distinguishes between preview/interview/review, and he enlarges, amongst other aspects, on “Wall Street journal to tabloid“ and the role of the critic. In this way, Bruford transcends the boundaries of his own life story and explores topics within a broader context.

Bill Bruford grew up in a family with an intellectual and cultured background. His father was a respected veterinarian, even honored by Queen Elizabeth II for his medical achievements. We see him driving to work in his Morris Oxford, from farm to farm, one of the most popular cars in post-war Britain. The book also sheds light on the prevailing moral values of the 1960s. For instance, we learn that failing to acknowledge a gift or to write a thank-you note after an invitation was considered a “a capital offence“, or that it was a duty to eat everything off the plate, practice moderation in all things, and not to steal (p. 26). Furthermore, even in a doctor's home, the means to educate three children were often limited at the time. And since girls in the 1960s were generally still meant to marry as soon as possible, this seems to have prevented Bill Bruford's sister from pursuing her further education, from obtaining a university degree.

The way Bill Bruford portrays his father shows how fundamentally times have changed since:

“We talked little, my dad and I, but words didn’t seem very important to fathers and sons of that generation.“(p. 25). 

As we know, in the fifties and sixties the father’s role was still mainly to provide the necessary family income. Regarding the education of their children, fathers generally stayed in the background, they remained somewhat invisible, it was the mother’s part.

But then, Bruford’s father was of the opinion that any occupation chosen should make a man happy, which Bill considers “a revolutionary idea in post-war Britain“ (p. 32). The bond between father and son was obviously close because “half a century on“ Bill Bruford sees “little to add to this modest list“, and he passes on his father’s advice to his own children (p. 26). 

Interestingly, Bruford also examines the changing social position of artists over the last two thousand years, in ancient Greece and Rome, in the Middle Ages, during the Renaissance, or in the time of Mozart, father and son (p. 34).

These are just some of the aspects of the author’s broad horizon that make this autobiography a most rewarding read.

Ginger Baker, Hellraiser (London 2009)

According to Ginger Baker's memoirs, his father's role in his youth and throughout his life was crucial, too. He served in the British Army, as had Ginger's grandfather, and was therefore also physically absent. The importance of Baker's father to his young son is evident from the very first page: The book opens with a letter dated 4^th October 1942, which the father wrote to his son when he was serving with the Royal Signals and was later transferred to the Long Range Desert Group. It was intended for the event that Baker was killed in action.

When this sadly happened, Baker's mother handed the letter to Ginger. As Frederick Albert Baker writes in the opening lines of this autobiography: 

“It’s just a little advice & the way I should like you to turn out if I should not return from this ‘errand‘, as you called it when I was last on leave.“

He advices his son: 

• “to work hard for your living“ - which Ginger Baker undoubtedly did,

• that “the best money is always earned by little work“ - which seems interesting enough,

• to “try not to take to drinking, by all means have a drink but not too much“ - which was, judging from his autobiography, a piece of advice that Ginger without doubt did not follow,

• to “Keep off smoking as long as you can, it’s an expensive habit  & does you no good.“ - which Ginger did not follow, either. Whenever on stage he was seen smoking. He often smoked several cigarettes at once (see photos pp. 180 f.), and on the cover of his book, he is pictured while smoking. Reading his autobiography makes it clear that alcohol and drugs were a problem, a constant struggle, in Ginger Baker's life (see, for instance, pp. 73, 101, 108).

• “Well Peter [Ginger’s baptismal name], I want you to grow up as a man able to hold your own ground, to learn how to use your fists, they are your best pals so often.“ - which was a piece of advice strictly followed. Disobedience, physical altercations, and violence of all kinds characterized Ginger Baker's life from beginning to end, and the language used was, to say the least, often coarse and very direct (cf. pp.15, 20, 29, 31, 34, 77,128, 132, 139).

As he finishes:

“(…) I only hope I am there when you reach this age so I can help you & mould you into what I should like you to be. (…) it is the only way I can possibly have a say in your upbringing if bad luck puts an end to me in this war.“

Which sadly happened, as Ginger’s father was killed on 15^th November 1943 on the Greek island of Leros, near the Turkish coast, where he is also buried. 

Ginger Baker was an extraordinary, unusual character, and the way he experienced the war years seems quite strange to us:

“Inevitably, the war intruded upon our lives. (…) As a kid, I have to say I loved the war. (…) at no time was I afraid. I loved the explosions.“ (pp. 9, 11).

The overall impression is that Ginger Baker experienced the war years and the post-war years in Great Britain like no other person.

Here is a signed copy of his autobiography. His life was bizarre, and so is his signature - illegible. 

Photo: HMS

Dick Heckstall-Smith, The Safest Place in the World (London 1989)

The author is one of those musicians who are also outstanding intellectuals. He initially earned a degree in agriculture from Cambridge University. For him, however, this was merely a way to earn a living; he considered it a bread-and-butter job. As he confesses in his autobiography:

“I’d left Cambridge with an awful degree in a subject which didn’t interest me. I’d been heavily involved in the University Jazz Club….“ (p. 2).

In the early 1970s, he returned to university to earn a Bachelor of Science in Social Sciences from South Bank Polytechnic, now London South Bank University. He then enrolled as a master's student at the prestigious London School of Economics.

In his youth, he refused military service and was officially recognized as a conscientious objector. Instead of performing military service, he had to work in a hospital for a time. His conscientious objection had deeper reasons, as is explained in his autobiography and various obituaries. (The Independent, 20/12/2004; The Telegraph, 21/12/2004; The Guardian 22/12/2004; The Herald 03/01/2005). The fact is that Dick Heckstall-Smith (DHS) grew up in a Quaker environment. His father was a Quaker who was strongly committed to social reforms and equally opposed to the military. His pacifist stance, typical of Quakers ever since their founder George Fox, evidently was passed on to his son Dick.

A central chapter in DHS’s autobiography is titled “Race and Racism in Music.“ He discusses the - at that time - new generation of “(…) British-born blacks (…) in numbers sufficient to make them a significant and active sociopolitical and cultural force.“ (p. 144). In his own words: “The musicians I like all 'play like a black.‘“ (p. 149). The issues raised and potential conflicts also affect him personally. As he writes: 

“I start from one single premiss: that racism is a white problem and not a black one.“ (p. 152).

DHS intends to prove this. It is an intellectually challenging and well-written analysis, recommended reading for anyone interested in this topic.

Given the political ambitions DHS expresses here, it is surprising that until the late 1960s, when he was approaching the age of about 40, he showed no interest in politics at all.

“For me at that time, politics (…) were the perfect no-no, the ultimate turn-off. (…) I didn’t want to know. In the face of anything remotely political I was humble, resentful, inarticulate and glazed. (…) I was one of the millions upon teeming millions of more or less averagely intelligent, more or less averagely sophisticated, competent individuals for whom the politics of the world were a blindspot.“ (p. 109). 

However:

When he performed in Czechoslovakia in 1968-1969, it was a wake-up call. The Warsaw Pact had just crushed the Czechoslovaks' aspirations for freedom and reform with tanks, and DHS was shocked by what he saw.

In the meantime, he had furthered his education to become an economist. In an in-depth analysis, he examined the political and economic situation of the Eastern Bloc states, questioned the reasons for their inadequate economies, the centrally planned socialist system, the low and stagnant wages of the workers in contrast to the steadily rising salaries of managers and Politburo members, and other factors. DHS, the pacifist, resolutely rejected such injustice, brutality, and violence.

Thus his autobiography also shows us his journey from an apolitical to a political artist. But Dick Heckstall-Smith remained unchanged in one respect: he was born a pacifist and remained one until the end of his life.

Signature clearly legible! A signed copy of Dick Heckstall-Smith's The Safest Place in the World.

Photo: HMS

Ray Davies, X-Ray (London 1994)

The short title of this autobiography, with its witty wordplay, aptly characterizes the author. Ray Davies, a Londoner through and through, possesses the rare gift of telling a captivating story in just three to four minutes. His works address themes of everyday British life, such as Waterloo Sunset and Sunny Afternoon (with a touch of nostalgia, depicting the carefree life of average Londoners and the upper class, respectively), Shangrila (the never-ending everyday worries of British citizens; England as a fragile paradise), and Dead End Street (poverty in Great Britain). Davies also reflects on British history, for example in the satirical Victoria, which transports us back to the time of Queen Victoria, or in Australia (about emigration and life in British colonies). Among Davies’s major achievements we find Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire), an intelligently written, critical, and occasionally sarcastic collection whose title needs no further explanation.

As we learn from the account of his life, the gifted Ray Davies grew up in a working-class family with eight children. His social ascent seems unparalleled. For his outstanding cultural achievements he received two of the highest honours: In 2004 the Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (CBE) by Queen Elizabeth II; and during the New Year Honours ceremony at Buckingham Palace in 2017, he was knighted by King Charles III, then Prince of Wales, for his outstanding cultural contributions.

However, Ray Davies is anything but complacent. In his autobiography the unassuming man does not dwell too much on these highest awards that were bestowed upon him. Davies is a born storyteller. And in line with this, his recollections are largely written in the form of dialogues and conversations, which makes them very vivid.

Much of what he recounts reflects the social and political climate in Great Britain in the 1960s, as well as the changes which the country underwent during that decade. For instance, his brother-in-aw, an Irishman by birth, migrated to England, and joined the British Army to fight in Korea. Or at the London Hornsey College of Art, which Davies attended, the so-called Fine Art Syllabus was replaced by a new type of diploma. Professional artists were marginalized by commercial enterprises. “The new word for the new age was graphics“, as he tells us ruefully. According to the Middlesex Education Authority:

“(…) out-and-out painters (…) would end up starving in an attic somewhere and living on the dole. The new attitude in all art colleges was directed at earning a living and making money.“ 

Davies describes the 1960s as a decade of cultural change. Consumerism and greed began to spread. Interestingly, the young artist resolutely opposes this:

“This did not include people like myself who saw art as a form of self-expression.“ (pp. 84-85). 

He celebrated some of his greatest successes in the so-called swinging sixties. Soon, however, the decade became a laughingstock for him. “The style revolution“ was in full swing, and “it seemed that all smart students at the college were rushing headlong into it.“ Davies highlights Carnaby Street as the mecca of the fashion-conscious, with its tab collars, boots, with all the “hippest of the hip“ (p. 85). The culture of the working class had become fashionable and dominant - just as George Melly had predicted - , not least in literature, for instance in Alan Sillitoe’s “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning“ or John Osborne’s “Look back in Anger“. But Davies remains true to himself, sticking to his tenets:

“None of this was affecting me, because I felt that I had always been what all these silly, confused trendies were trying to become. I was already working class, and therefore not required to change.“ (p. 85). 

Something that hardly any other artist of his time dared to do: Davies even went so far as to satirize this new type of consumer world. Dandy, Mr Pleasant, or Dedicated Followers of Fashion all mocked the fashion monkies, the fashionistas, in Carnaby Street, and their lyrics sound as fresh as the day they were written almost sixty years ago. Davies denounced the thoughtless hipsters of the era and all their follies. “Pop art had become the new opium of the people“, he declares (p. 309). And somewhat paradoxically, his intellectual satire did not meet with rejection, as may be expected, on the contrary it proved most successful.

It undoubtedly speaks to Ray Davies's greatness that he remained true to himself. He proved this on other occasions as well. The gap between his two front teeth was criticized by his management. But he ignored it; he was above the fashions of the time.

In the course of his autobiography Davies also enlarges on the social problems in those years, for example on derelict, dilapidating Victorian houses that had “become almost like a third-world community“, and that with the immigration of different nationalities, they also bring their own culture with them, which poses new challenges (p. 145). Or that the old telegram was a common means of communication back then and is practically forgotten and extinct today (p.171).   

And unlike other autobiographers, Davies takes us to very far away corners on earth, for instance to India, Singapore, Hong Kong (then still under British rule), to Saudi Arabia during the oil embargo, Australia, or Scandinavia. He offers insightful commentary on the social and economic conditions that he observes in these countries. When he flew to Saigon, his plane was escorted by four US jet fighters, and from above he could see the fires and all the atrocities of the Vietnam war. Upon leaving India, where he had encountered great poverty and found the extremely hot climate almost unbearable, he explained:

“India was an education in two days. (…) As we left India I realized that compared to this level of suffering, I had been given an easy route through life. (…) I was quickly learning that in these poor parts of the world, human life was less precious than in the affluent and tolerant climates.“ (pp. 205-206). 

In X-Ray the author presents himself as a self-assured artist who remains true to himself and resists changing fashions and opportunism. He goes far beyond his artistic work; his autobiography is a rich social history.

Patrick Campbell-Lyons, Psychedelic Days. 1960-1969 (London 2009)

Page One: “This book is dedicated to those I love.“ This sounds like a motto, a guiding principle. Reading this autobiography makes it clear that love, peace, and tranquility mean everything to the author. Born in Lismore, he spent his youth in Ireland. The country’s deep-rooted Catholicism is still clearly palpable in his memories, as is the tragic famine of 1845–1847, which is pivotal in Irish history. Patrick Campbell-Lyons (PCL) reminds us that so many Irishmen before him had left their country to seek their fortune elsewhere, most of them across the ocean to the USA, Canada, or England. PCL chose the latter. Unlike other compatriots who had a difficult time and struggled abroad, he quickly gained a foothold in England and was warmly welcomed into the artistic circles of London in the 1960s, where he soon played a significant role as an avant-garde artist.

His recollections are largely devoted to the celebrities of the time who surrounded him and with whom he collaborated as an artist. A joint television appearance with Salvador Dalí was likely one of the highlights of his career. Undoubtedly, the Dadaist was close to PCL's avant-garde understanding of art, particularly with regard to music. And as other autobiographers have noted, listening to Radio Luxembourg was PCK’s primary source of information about 1960s London.

Much like Ray Davies, PCL also takes us to faraway lands. The journeys which he describes largely correspond to the travel destinations that were particularly popular in the sixties, Paris, the South of France, Spain, North Africa, or Brazil (Rio de Janeiro). In Morocco he met a Georgian from the USSR who had lived there for fifteen years - “Had I dreamt that I met Geronimo from Giorgia (not USA but USSR, as it was then)?“ (p. 158). Given the world order at the time, this was undoubtedly an extraordinary encounter. His means of transport and travel times clearly belong to a different era. PLC started his journey to Barcelona with the Magic Bus and the ferry across the English Channel. After arriving in France, he continued his trip by train, as was common at the time. The entire journey took forty hours. PCL’s autobiography shows how close and yet how distant this decade is for us.

These are some of the impressions from the sixties that PCL conveys to us. There are many more that are equally worth reading.

Paul Brady, Crazy Dreams (Kildare 2022)

The poet and former Oxford professor of poetry, Paul Muldoon, wrote the preface to this autobiography, and John Hume, Paul Brady's secondary school French teacher, later became a Nobel Peace Prize laureate. This suggests that we can expect an interesting retrospective on the autobiographer's life. 

Paul Brady was born in Derry and grew up in Strabane, Northern Ireland. Since Northern Ireland is politically part of the United Kingdom, he is a British citizen. However, according to the Good Friday Agreement (also known as the Belfast Agreement) he is entitled to Irish or English citizenship, or to both. Based on his biography and artistic achievements, he would generally be perceived as Irish rather than English.

The small town of Strabane, where Brady spent his youth, is located in the west of County Tyrone. Bordering on the Republic of Ireland, it was particularly hard hit during the long years of unrest and clashes between the British and the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and was frequently bombed. Security checks, intimidation, interrogations, and searches were commonplace in the sixties, “all that tribal and religious tension and angst.“ (p. 31).

The Irish use the term “the troubles“, whose grim meaning everybody knows, and these troubles play a significant role in Brady’s autobiography. He never felt quite at ease in Strabane, as he admits: “I hated going back over the border to Strabane (..)“, (p. 31) every time he returned with his family from a holiday in the Republic. They regularly spent their summer holidays just across the border in the seaside resort of Bundoran, only a few kilometers away in County Donegal. Bundoran was, and remains, a popular seaside resort, attracting holidaymakers from the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, especially during the summer. For Paul Brady, too, the resort was a great relief:

“(…) Bundoran in summer was a great place to be (…) every day was holiday in the true sense of the word.“ (p. 30). 

Compared to today's travel habits, it is astonishing how little Brady traveled in his youth. He takes us back to a seemingly distant past. Derry, where he was born, is only fourteen kilometers from Strabane. Yet he did not return there until he attended secondary school. And he saw Dublin for the first time when he began his university studies. This is how he describes his arrival in the Irish capital as a student:

“(…) Dublin might as well have been Shanghai. I had never been there in my life. Truth be told, I had never been further from Strabane than Ballymote in County Sligo to see my Bohan grandaunts - a distance of around eighty-five miles.“(p. 47).

We read about his visits to his numerous relatives, to his extended family in nearby Omagh in the Republic of Ireland, in Enniskillen, or in Irvinestown in the north. Through their biographies, Brady looks further back, for example to the Irish War of Independence (1919-1921), the Civil War (1922-1923), and even to the Great Famine and mass emigration from Ireland in the 19th century. Or we encounter an ancestor who joined the British Army and was taken prisoner in Burma during World War II.

By delving deeper into Irish history, Paul Brady opens up many fascinating perspectives for his readers. As visitors to Ireland will soon discover, today's Irish people live with their past in the same way as their ancestors: it is unforgettable, indelible, because it has shaped their present. Their vibrant history is deeply present in their collective consciousness:

As Brady confirms: 

“The politics of Ireland to this day is still influenced by the legacy of the Civil War.“ (p. 15). 

The so-called "troubles" also affected Brady's education. Since both his parents were teachers, a good education was highly valued, as he repeatedly emphasizes. He considers it a privilege to have attended a secular, non-religious primary school that was co-educational and mixed-gender, unlike the many schools in Catholic Ireland. (p. 9). 

“To this day I feel I benefited from the climate of tolerance and freedom of association that came with this early integrated education.“ (p. 5). 

In contrast, St Columb’s, the Catholic secondary school in Derry that he later attended, was an all-boys school run by priests. He found the clerical teachers unsophisticated, their prevailing “nationalist ethos (…) a product of a philistine Catholic Church.“ (pp. 34, 36). This was a setback and a shock for him. It should not be forgotten that the Irish education system, both in Northern Ireland and the Republic, remains heavily influenced by the Church. Catholics and Protestants attend separate schools, “confirming each in ignorance of the other and fuelling the prejudice and bigotry that inevitably follows.“ (p. 5). As Brady tells us, little has changed in this regard since the 1960s.

When Brady moved to London in the late 1960s to pursue his career, the Northern Ireland conflict with its violent clashes had just flared up again. As a result: “The old British prejudices about the Irish resurfaced (…)“, and Paul Brady felt uneasy once more: “(…) laissez-faireism and open atmosphere of the late 1960s was slipping away.“ (p. 92). And so the circle was complete: Like countless compatriots before him, he tried his luck in America.

What these carefree and lighthearted late sixties left behind were ….. steadily improved record player models and, once again, Radio Luxembourg as “the dominant outlet for popular music in English-speaking Western Europe (…) what would become the sound that defined our generation and separated us from the world of our parents.“ (p. 25).

This confirms the thesis formulated in our introduction: that music played a central role in the fundamental restructuring process of the decade, in the profound social and political changes that the 1960s underwent.