Today’s Music to keep me SsSsaAaAANNnNnEeeEE in Isolation – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – Deja Vu

Funny that – I thought I’d played this yesterday!

Deja Vu is a great album. I just love those harmonies!

(7) Crosby Stills Nash – Carry On / Questions – YouTube

New definitive book on Rock Music from its roots – Rock Routes

New definitive book on Rock Music from its roots – Rock Routes – out now in paperback for £9.57.

I spent years writing this and have been holding it back. I decided to release it now. I don’t know why.

If you like Rock Music you will adore this! It gives you my personal take on all the genres and their major exponents and essential tracks. It’s informative and readable. It sheds light and is a great guide. Why not give it a try?


This charts the progress of Rock Music from its beginnings in Country Blues, Country& Western, R&B and Gospel through to its Post Punk period of 1980. It tells the tale of each genre and lists all the essential tracks. I was there at the beginning and I’m still there at the front! Keep on Rockin’!!

The Greatest West Coast Acid Rock Bands in the World (or rather my favourites)

On the West Coast of America lysergic acid had a dramatic effect on bands and music from LA and San Francisco in the mid to late sixties. The counterculture was in full swing and a whole slew of music sprang up that reflected the values and catered for the preferences of these counterculture communities.

They were actually influenced by earlier bands such as the Loving Spoonful and Byrds and also by Bob Dylan.

Some of the bands came in from the Folk Scene – such as Jefferson Airplane and Country Joe and the Fish and some came in from the Blues side – such as Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, the Grateful Dead and the Doors. Then we had Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention who were a more experimental mixture of Doo-wop and social satire with dollops of weirdness.

The LA scene tended to be different to the San Francisco scene but the two cross-pollinated.

Here’s some of my favourites:

Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band

Country Joe and the Fish

The Doors

Buffalo Springfield


The Mother’s of Invention

Big Brother and the Holding Company

Jefferson Airplane

Quicksilver Messenger Service


Grateful Dead

Blue Cheer

Crosby Stills Nash and Young


Electric Prunes

The Best Rock Music Bands and artists in the World! (Or at least my favourites!)

Rock Music has been an incredibly important part of my life. I love live music, I love playing Rock Music and I have shelves of vinyl, CDs and DVDs – because I am a collector.

I use the term Rock Music very loosely indeed.

I like being surrounded with my music. I’ve seen most of the best bands live and loved every moment of the pure excitement. These are my favourite bands and artists (in no particular order):



Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac

Captain Beefheart

Jimi Hendrix


Roy Harper

Downliner’s Sect

Pink Floyd








Bob Dylan

Phil Ochs

Nick Harper

Jefferson Airplane

Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention


White Strypes


Ian Dury

Doctors of Madness

Elvis Costello


Wreckless Eric


North Mississippi Allstars

Sex Pistols

Stiff Little Fingers


Neil Young

Eddie Cochran

Elvis Presley

Little Richard

Booker T & the MGs

Otis Redding

Aretha Franklin

Joni Mitchell

Buddy Holly

Bo Diddly

Chuck Berry

David Gray

John Mayall

Incredible String Band

Led Zeppelin

Buffy St Marie

Ritchie Havens

Richard and Mimi Farina

Don and Dewey

James Brown

Ray Charles

Screaming Jay Hawkins

Jerry Lee Lewis

Everly Brothers

Fats Domino

Huey Piano Smith


Arthur Brown

Fairport Convention

Leonard Cohen

Country Joe and the Fish

James Varda

Gang of Four

Bruce Springsteen

The Last Poets

Gil Scott Heron

Linton Kwesi Johnson

Lee Scratch Perry

Crosby Stills Nash and Young



Michael Smith

PJ Harvey

Bob Marley

Dead Kennedys


Tom Robinson Band


Talking Heads


Velvet Underground

Jackson C Frank

Nick Drake

Jeff Beck


The Beat


Billy Bragg





Patti Smith

Hank Williams




John Renbourn

Bert Jansch



George Harrison

John Lennon

Loudhailer Electric Company

Fela Kuti

Pretty Things

Jackson Brown

George Thorogood

John Cooper Clarke



Nick Cave


Janis Joplin – Big Brother & the Holding Company

Grateful Dead

Dire Straits


I’ve missed out the Blues! There are lots of others that I like too and I bet there’s a few major likes that I’ve overlooked. Who is it that I’ve seriously missed out?

PS – I’m not keen on Queen, Rod Stewart, Beach Boys or Elton John!

It Can’t Happen Here – Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention

Well obviously it is happening here!

This wasn’t exactly the classic two and a half minute track! For 1966 this was extremely weird.

They are freaking out in Washington DC.

“It Can’t Happen Here”

It can’t happen here
It can’t happen here
I’m telling you, my dear
That it can’t happen here
Because I been checkin’ it out, baby
I checked it out a couple a times

But I’m telling you
It can’t happen here
Oh darling, it’s important that you believe me
(Bop bop bop bop)
That it can’t happen here

Who could imagine that they would freak out somewhere
in Kansas . . .
(Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . )
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas, la la la)
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas)
Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota . . .
Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi . . . )
(Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota,
Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota)
Who could imagine . . .

Who could imagine
That they would freak out in Washington, D.C.
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
(AC/DC do-do-do-dun, AC/DC
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma, AC/DC)
But it can’t happen here
Oh baby, it can’t happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Oh baby, it can’t happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can’t happen here
Everybody’s safe and it can’t happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
No freaks for us
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can’t happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Everybody’s clean and it can’t happen here
No, no, it won’t happen here
(No, no, it won’t happen here)
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
I’m telling you it can’t
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It won’t happen here
(I’m not worried at all, I’m not worried at all)
Plastic folks, you know
It won’t happen here
You’re safe, mama
(No no no)
You’re safe, baby
(No no no)
You just cook a tv dinner
(No no no)
And you make it
Bop bop bop
(No no no)
Oh, we’re gonna get a tv dinner and cook it up
(No no no no no no no!)
Oh, get a tv dinner and cook it up
Cook it up
Oh, and it won’t happen here
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in the suburbs!
(No no no no no no no no no no
Man you guys are really safe
Everything’s cool)

I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool

And they thought it couldn’t happen here
(duh duh duh)
They knew it couldn’t happen here
They were so sure it couldn’t happen here
But . . .

Suzy . . .
Yes yes, oh yes-I’ve always felt that
Yes, I agree man, it really makes it . . . yeah . . .
It’s a real THING, man, it really makes it

[FZ:] Suzy, you just got to town, and we’ve been . . . we’ve been very interested in your development
[Suzy:] Forget it!

(It can’t happen here)

Rockin’ the Curriculum

Rockin’ the Curriculum

In the late 70s my Rock Club at school went from strength to strength. I wish I could say the same for our family finances. We were floundering.
Then I had this brilliant idea.
I would run a History of Rock music course as an evening class. I approached the college adult education and they were keen. I set about it. I had lots of vinyl albums, I’d lived through it and I’d seen most of the major acts. Easy. I was used to talking about it all with my students. I knew my stuff. What could be better than playing the music you loved and talking about it and getting paid for doing it?
What could go wrong?
I could make some money to help tide us over and I would enjoy myself at the same time. It was a win win.
I produced some flyers, spread the word and set about offering my first class. As far as I could tell nobody had ever run such a course in Britain. I was the pioneer.
I needed twelve good people and true. I attracted ten. The college ummed and aahed and decided to let it run. I was to be paid £15 an hour. That meant I would probably, after tax, clear £18 for the two hours. It wasn’t a huge sum but it would make a bit of difference. We were desperate. It was 1978 and we had three children.
It took a lot more preparation than I had envisaged. I had to organise what we covered in the two hours, select the tracks I was going to play, check and research what I was going to say and produce information sheets. It took hours.
My students were all keen. They had areas of expertise. They expected me to know what I was talking about. I was being paid.
That’s where the reality hit home.
My record collection reflected my tastes, which were pretty wide, but there were holes that needed plugging. The weekends were spent trawling around the second-hand record shops and buying up material to plug the gaps. That was fun too. I started to meet a number of interesting people, some of whom I’m friends with until this day.
However, it was not doing anything for our budget. I was spending more on essential albums than I was bringing in.
My course was running well though. It was the only course in the college to actually increase in numbers. By the time I finished it had gone up to sixteen.
My record club at school was also flourishing. I started taking students along to concerts as far afield as Leeds and Sheffield as part of our unofficial extra-curricular activities.
Later, as a Deputy Head, I managed to convince the Head that Rock Music needed to be on the curriculum. I devised a course for the Sixth Form which was ostensibly Skill Development. I delivered a couple of lessons on a Rock genre or musician and they had to analyse my presentation in terms of verbal skills, body language and materials used. Then they formed in small groups and produced presentations on their choices and we analysed their performances and gave pointers on how to improve. They took it very seriously. I remember one group dressed up in Disco gear and produced a dance routine as part of their presentation. It was a hoot. The confidence the students gained was brilliant. It went through the roof and we all had a good time. The students skills are giving presentations also improved which went straight into interview skills. Every school should do it.
Nick Harper was a great favourite with the kids. Not only did I organise trips to see him play but he came into school quite regularly and did a performance for them. He went up into the Sixth Form room and sat around, playing, talking and showing them how it was done. He came into my PSHE lessons and talked to them about song-writing, life on the road and guitar playing. He gave performances in the main hall. Nick was a star in every sense of the word.
I often think about reviving those courses. I did three of them. They lasted two years each. But it was quite a commitment.
I do not think I have the time now that I’ve retired.
But I’m still rockin’ even if the curriculum isn’t.

Featured Book – Rock Music – The Blues Muse – Chapter 2 Crystal Springs.

Crystal Springs


Crystal Springs was a typical Mississippi Town. There were a lot of these little towns around the Delta. They were the centres for trade with general stores and places where those with spending money could get a drink, play some cards or find a woman. Where the white bosses could meet for business or buy equipment, and where horses, livestock and equipment could be serviced. They were all a bustle. I moseyed into the centre. There was a small square where people sometimes gathered. It was shady which offered some relief from the heat and so it was popular with buskers like myself. We’d set up on the street corner and play our hearts out for nickels and dimes. I tended to ramble round. It didn’t pay to stay in one place too long. You’d attract attention from the sheriff and he was likely to give you a bed for the night and put you to work for a month or two to pay it off. They didn’t like itinerant ramblers any too much. Besides you had a novelty value and that soon wore off. No – I stayed a day or two and left. Sometimes they’d let me play in one of the taverns and sometimes one of the plantations would take me on. If there was heavy work to be done they liked a musician out there in the fields leading the chant. It raised spirits, put in energy and paid off in productivity. I could do that but it was long and hot all day under that sun. There was nothing easy about that. I avoided it if I could. Besides, there were plenty of guys who had no option. They were blind or crippled and could not work those fields. If they could not play they didn’t eat. I was young and fit; I hated to take food out of their mouths. I was happy to ramble, play the jukes and busk for a living. It suited me just fine.

Crystal Springs was good. I was hopeful that I could add to my few coins. If I was lucky I would eat well and if I was even luckier I might just attract one of the pretty things who cast an eye in my direction and then I could end up in a comfy bed for the night.

As soon as I arrived I realised I was plum out of luck. The two best places were taken and both had attracted sizeable crowds around them. I left my guitar alone and settled back to watch and learn.

I was new to this trade and had a lot to discover. If I was not going to starve I needed every tip I could possibly get.

The Main Street was dusty. Every time a horse or wagon came through it would kick up quite a cloud. It added to the general discomfort and mingled with the sweat running down your face to create grimy streaks. We were used to it.

On Main Street there were boarded walkways for when it rained. When it rained in Mississippi it was like the heavens had simply tipped a lake over on top of you. It came down with such force that it was a mystery as to how anyone managed to breathe. The dust turned to mud that sucked you in, the street became a river and the wagons became bogged down in the quagmire. If it wasn’t for those covered boards nobody would get around.

On the boards in front of the hitching rail I recognised Tommy Johnson. He was one of my favourites so no wonder that he was pulling everyone in. Tommy knew how to entertain a crowd. He was like a magnet. He’d gather them round and magic the coins out of their pockets. I listened as he played the intricate patterns on that guitar and watched his fingers closely. Man, he was good! He was singing some song about canned heat. I could relate to that. Many’s the time I’ve had to doss down in the alleys where the down and outs live. I’d clear the sterno tins away so I could stretch out. Those guys were mean mothers. I had to cuddle my guitar to me all night. They’d steal the shirt off your back to get another tin. They never seemed to sleep. All night long they’d be heating those tins up and getting high on that juice. It rotted their minds and made holes out of their eyes but they were past caring. Tommy sure could sing about reality in that high-pitched falsetto voice of his. Not that this was the only thing about his act that the crowd found entertaining, no sir. There was nothing he could not do with a guitar. He was a crowd pleaser. He would work the crowd by playing that thing behind his head; he’d throw it spinning into the sky and catch it with hardly a stutter in the playing. It drove the women wild and they’d shriek and squeal with delight while the guys shook their heads in admiration. He’d finish off with a handstand on his guitar while still strumming. It sent shivers through me. I knew he was out of my league. I bet Tommy was never short of a drink or a bed for the night. I had no chance.

But as if that wasn’t bad enough on the other side of the square there was another of the legends of the area – Charley Patton. With his wavy hair and pale, red tinged skin he stood out. He was half Indian but it wasn’t just his looks that were striking. He too was a wizard with the guitar and Tommy’s equal at working a crowd. Whatever Tommy could do in the way of tricks he would do better. Charley had that crowd yelling. I watched as he played that old box behind his back and then walked it down the boardwalk playing it between his legs. His deep, rich voice was a contrast to Tommy’s high pitched tones and the crowds were lapping it up. A few years before Tommy had idolised Charley and learnt a lot. Now the pupil was giving the master a run for his money; though I could see that both of them were doing alright.

It was time for me to shut up shop and hit the road. I was not going to get much joy around here while these two were in town. They’d monopolise the jukes and drinking holes. I wouldn’t get a look in.

With a smile on my lips I watched them for another half hour. They were mesmerising. From where I was sitting the high voice and low growl blended into a perfect sound as their strong voices carried across the square and the guitars blended together. I couldn’t keep my eyes still as they darted from one to the other drinking it in. I was in heaven but there was no way I was going to compete. All I could hope was that I didn’t find Blind Lemon in the next place. That would cook my goose.

If you have enjoyed my writing and would like to purchase one of my books I have put some links to my best Rock books below:


In The USA:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes



In The UK:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes


In other part of the world please check your local Amazon!


Thank you for looking and please leave a review if you enjoyed the book!!

Featured Book – Rock Music – In Search of Captain Beefheart – Chapter 1

On the starting line


Once I got out of Clive’s bedroom I began my quest in earnest. I looked everywhere I could but there were no signs of my heroes. This was probably due to two things: firstly I was an eleven year old kid living in the Delta region of the Deep South (Thames Delta that is – Walton on Thames) and there was very little in the way of record shops or live venues (Walton on Thames was not renowned for its boulevard cruisin’ in red Cadillac’s or its jiving’ Honky Tonks and Juke Joints) and secondly my heroes were still out of circulation. Woody was going down with the terrible Huntingdon’s Chorea which would stop him performing and writing anymore. Don Van Vliet was probably living out on his trailer in the desert with his mum Sue and hanging out at school with Frank Zappa. Roy was causing mayhem Blackpool way with Beat poetry, feigned madness, army desertion and pregnant girlfriends. Bob was doing his Little Richard impersonations and starting out on the road to putting together his auto-constructed mythology and was about to start singing to Woody in the sanatorium. Son House hadn’t been rediscovered and had yet to relearn the guitar, get back in the studio and be trundled out to white audiences.

I filled my time in by substituting in other heroes.

Hard on the heels of Buddy and Adam I soon discovered Elvis, Eddie, Cliff and then the revelation of Little Richard. He was explosive! ‘Here’s Little Richard’ was an immense album. I became obsessed with it. That voice belting out that basic thumping Gospel influenced yet wholly secular primitive Rock ‘n’ Roll along with his wild pounding piano. He was the true King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. There was no one to touch him. Elvis, who copied a lot of his songs, was a pale imitation in more ways than one. I remember sitting on the sofa with my 52 year old big fat jolly Nanny (Grandmother), who was shortly destined to have a stroke and die, and watching a Little Richard, come-back, hour long TV show in the early 60s. He put everything into it. The sweat was beaded on his face and dripping off him. He stood and hammered the keys, played it with his foot, backside and elbow and pulled off every trick in the book while my Nanny roared him on and bounced around causing the sofa to suffer earthquakes. My Nan was a rocker!

My school had a fete and I took my Dansette there with my record collection and performed as a Juke Box. I charged six pence a play and only played Little Richard all afternoon. I didn’t get to make much but I had a great time!

I finally got to meet my hero not so long ago when he played in Bradford. I took my younger son Henry with me as an essential part of his education (I also took him to see Chuck Berry, Rambling Jack Elliott, Love, The Magic Band, Lazy Lester & Jerry Lee Lewis and suggested he went to see Bo Diddley, the Fall, the Buzzcocks and John Cooper Clarke – which he did). Sadly my other three children were not so enamoured with my musical tastes. Liz thinks they were probably deafened on long car journeys or suffered a surfeit of Beefheart that permanently warped their brain waves.

The Little Richard Show was a strange affair. There seemed to be three elements to it. There was the Rock ‘n’ Roll – but lacking in the energy and athleticism – he was in his mid seventies – but there was also this cloying evangelical Christian crap and a very camp gayness all of which did not quite gel with raw Rock ‘n’ Roll. It left me feeling dissatisfied. I would have loved to have seen him in 1957 when he was revolutionary. Even more disturbing was going back after the show to see him. He was doing a poster signing. There was a long queue and two big black heavies on the door who were distinctly underworld. They collected your £30 quid off you with a very heavy warning: you went in shook hands, had your poster signed – if you tried to get anything else signed, like my original ‘Here’s Little Richard’ album from my childhood it would be taken off me and smashed. I had the feeling that there would likely be a few more things broken in the bargain.

I walked up to get my poster signed by the great Mr Penniman with the guy from the support act. He’d done a great version of ‘Casting my spell’ and I said that it sounded just like the Measles version that I used to love. He was particularly friendly and turned out to have been the lead singer with the Measles.

Following my discovery of Little Richard the next few years of the early sixties were quite fallow for me and lacking in real heroes. The charts, which we all drooled over, were full of sanitised Pop stuff – Fabian, Bobby Darin, Bobby Vee and Bobby Rydell. Some of it was OK and I quite liked Del Shannon, Roy Orbison and Dion & the Belmonts but I drew the line at Bobby Vee and Fabian and had headed off back into the 1950s for my fix. I devoured all the Buddy Holly, Little Richard and Eddie Cochran I could get my hands on and added some Shadows, Gene Vincent, Fats Domino, Huey ‘Piano’ Smith, and early Elvis before discovering the bombshells of Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley.

I didn’t know what I was searching for. I thought I’d found it in good old Rock ‘n’ Roll. It hit you right in the belly and got you moving. I thought everyone should record fast rockers. Rock ‘n’ Roll was great but it wasn’t the whole caboodle. I would grow up a little.

I had a lot to learn.

The lean years ended in 1963.


If you have enjoyed my writing and would like to purchase one of my books I have put some links to my best Rock books below:


In The USA:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes



In The UK:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes


In other part of the world please check your local Amazon!


Thank you for looking and please leave a review if you enjoyed the book!!

Featured Book – Rock Music – In Search of Captain Beefheart – Some Reviews

These are a few of the reviews:


20 January 2015

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase 
The title is a little misleading; as it is not a book about Beefheart , but rather an account of growing up through the 60s and 70s in Britain. For people like myself 60+ year’s of age and like the author, a keen collector of records and tapes, this book will have a deep resonance. It was like living my early years of music all over again, as Mr. Goodwin kept mentioning the recording artists that I knew.
An enjoyable read, made for the coach, train, or ‘plane trip.

1 January 2016

Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase
We move from the rock of a 2004 White Stripes gig to the deep blues of Son House performing in 1968 in the very first paragraph, which gives some idea of the huge range of personal and musical experience covered in this always lively and thoroughly engaging personal testimony. We are taken on a freewheeling and cheerfully anarchic journey across time and space from the earliest days of rock’n’roll through the vibrant 60s and its many musical offshoots and current influences, with every anecdote giving ample evidence for the author’s central idea – that music transforms and inspires like nothing else, forging an organic link with our own lives and even the politics and beliefs we live by. There are sharp, vivid, honest and cheerfully scatological portraits of his musical heroes with warm praise and candid criticism providing the salty ring of truth. The book has wry down-to-earth humour, a breakneck momentum, mostly good musical taste, fascinating gossip, strong opinions, passionate loves and equally passionate hates – and there’s not a dull moment in it. Written with a warm and generous spirit, in the end it amounts to a radical critique of much more than music. It captures the modern zeitgeist with zest and courage. Recommended.

2 September 2015

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
If you grew up listening to music in the 60s then like me you will love this book, there were so many similarities between my musical awakening and the author’s that it was uncanny, I was never as obsessive about collecting as he obviously was but I went to so many of the gigs that are listed in the book. The book took me back to the days of being a hippy when everything seemed possible and we thought we could change the world with music and love, sadly we were wrong but thankfully the music lives on and Opher captures the spirit of the age perfectly. I found myself longing to get my vinyl out and start playing my old Roy Harper and Incredible String band LPs. The book is well written and shows what a fascinating life Opher has led, for anyone who was there and has forgotten the details this book will delight you and for any serious students of how good music evolved then this book is a must.

2 June 2015

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
How very dare you captain sweetheart weird only to the tone deaf with t h no hearts. Pink Floyd are not just Roger Waters all their best music came from three good music players making up for their average bass player.other wise locally book.
Pete 2 Sheds

5 July 2015

Format: Kindle Edition
If you were there, the 60s that is, and you have forgotten much, and you will have, then this is an interesting memory jogger. It is Chris Goodwins account of the real ‘underground’ music scene of the time and not what is popularly touted to the interested young of today.
If you are genuinely interested in the genesis of modern music and its evolution especially through the 60s and 70s then this is an interesting guide and full of quirky anecdotes which may appeal to the young of all ages
Red Herring

3 June 2014

Format: Kindle Edition
Wow, Opher’s amazing rock n roll journey is a must. What a fabulous trip through a lifetime of music and more. Anyone who had a pet crow and 2000 pet mice has gotta be something other than ordinary. Hugely engaging and with buckets full of tales to tell, Opher’s passion shines through on every page. Five stars for sure, keep ’em coming! Rich & Lou

12 September 2014

Format: Paperback
Rock music lovers and anyone who has lived through the sixties and seventies will LOVE this book!
I’m glad people have enjoyed reading it!

If you have enjoyed my writing and would like to purchase one of my books I have put some links to my best Rock books below:


In The USA:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes



In The UK:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes


In other part of the world please check your local Amazon!


Thank you for looking and please leave a review if you enjoyed the book!!

Featured Book – Rock Music – In Search of Captain Beefheart – The liner notes

This book is a memoir of my life with Rock Music. These are the liner notes:

The sixties raged. I was young, crazy, full of hormones and wanting to snatch life by the balls. There was a life out there for the grabbing and it had to be wrestled into submission. There was a society full of boring amoral crap and a life to be had in the face of the boring, comforting vision of slow death on offer. Rock music vented all that passion. This book is a memoir of a life spent immersed in Rock Music. I was born in 1949 and so lived through the whole gamut of Rock. Rock music formed the background to momentous world events – the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam War, Iraq war, Watergate, the miners’ strike and Thatcher years, CND, the Green Movement, Mao and the Cultural Revolution, Women’s Liberation and the Cold War. I see this as the Rock Era. I was immersed in Rock music. It was fused into my personality. It informed me, transformed me and inspired me. My heroes were musicians. I am who I am because of them. Without Rock Music I would not have the same sensibilities, optimism or ideals. They woke me up! This tells that story.


If you have enjoyed my writing and would like to purchase one of my books I have put some links to my best Rock books below:


In The USA:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes



In The UK:


In Search Of Captain Beefheart



The Blues Muse


Rock Routes


In other part of the world please check your local Amazon!


Thank you for looking and please leave a review if you enjoyed the book!!