My first singles

I was eleven when I bought my first singles. They cost me 5P each and I bought five of them.

They were second hand off my older friend Clive Hansell. He had a limited taste in music. The only artists he liked were Buddy Holly and Adam Faith. I didn’t notice at the time that Adam Faith was modelling himself on Buddy Holly. He put that same little warbling affectation into his songs. I also didn’t notice that the quality of the British production was naff. My eleven year old self was not as discerning.

While America, used to authentic country music, was great at producing Rock ‘n’ Roll, Britain was out of its depth. The backing and arrangement was crap. Very few British Rock releases from the late fifties and early sixties came up to scratch on that front. What the producers were aiming for was a more middle of the road market. Raunchy, raw and rockin’ weren’t in their vocabulary.

My friend Clive unloaded all the singles, which he had played to death, on me. That was probably a good deal for both of us.

Over the course of a year I got to inherit the entire output of Adam Faith and Buddy Holly. I still have them all. I’m a collector.

For 25p I bought five Adam Faith singles. I remember playing great numbers like Who Am I, How About That, Someone Else’s Baby, and What Do You Want, on my old Dansette. I loved them.

I progressed to Buddy Holly when Clive became tired with them. For a while they were my only singles.

The first single I bought new was From Me To You by the Beatles. I had been knocked for six by the Please Please Me album and rushed out to buy the album and single.

After that I bought every Beatles, Kinks, Downliners Sect and Stones single on the day of release except for Honky Tonk Women. I was given that in Hyde Park for helping clean up the litter.

I did not tend to buy too many singles. I was always looking for the best value for money (having a limited amount) so I tended to buy albums. But I still have a collection of around five hundred singles that I have accumulated over time.

I miss that excitement of rushing back from the shop and putting that single on the record player in my bedroom with the arm up so that it played on repeat. It would blast out and I’d play it endlessly until I had absorbed every note. Then I’d flip it over and do the same with the B-side. Those singles are seared into my mind.

The experience these days is just not the same, not so visceral. Those singles captured the vitality of my youth.

Every morning I would load my Dansette up with six singles of choice. They would blast out as I got washed, dressed and breakfasted. I knew I had to be out of the house by the time the sixth finished.

Singles were the start to my day.