I felt like a bit of me died with Dave Greenfield’s passing – my rebellious, non-conformist past, my youthful grasp for sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.
5:15 am on a dark and stormy Perth morning – I stagger out of bed into my training gear and into the blinding light of the living room, collapse into a chair and pick up my phone that has been on charge overnight.
I read the single WhatsApp message from my friend Rebecca back in the UK and my heart plummets with dread. “Oh no Ben – so sorry to hear about Dave Greenfield. Terrible news (sad face emoji) xx.” Horribly awake and panicky now I quickly tap in his name into Google and there’s the headline on the Rolling Stone website “Stranglers’ Keyboardist Dave Greenfield Dead at 71, After Coronavirus Battle.” Continue reading “Loss, Love and A Lime Tree”
Football had reclaimed the St George cross from the fascists and it was actually cool again to sport an England shirt with its iconic three lions.
The summer of 1996. Manchester. I am 26 and in love. The city is buzzing. The country is buzzing. Continue reading “Three lions on a shirt”
Their sound, their look, their energy and for being the indefatigable and endlessly interesting bastards they are – makes them my passion and their followers my tribe.
So I’m on my way to Melbourne to see one of the great loves of my life, the Stranglers, and I’m as excited as a teenager on his first date. Continue reading “How I fell in love with the Stranglers”