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The Soundtrack of a Valve: An Appreciation of Gordon Dair

A few weeks ago, when the news was bad, I sent Gordon an email. I wanted to say something; anything. Gordon didn’t want cards and had limited use for sympathy, so I emailed an apology. I had a nagging memory about a historical injustice dating from 1988. It was about punk rock. It was about Gordon. Where were we? We were in a basement in Stockbridge, finding our voices. We were in the office of CUT magazine, doing our best, and although not many people noticed, sometimes our best was good. But it was 1988. Music was changing. Punk had died. Dance music was threatening a new kind of fun. Compact discs were on the way. Even The Clash had one. It was called The Story Of The Clash Vol 1 , and Gordon had reviewed it. Here, there is a conflict between memory and archive. In memory, Gordon reviewed this album with an outburst of autobiography. He overwrote, obliterating his word-count. While his writing was urgent and heartfelt, it barely addressed the music. It discussed Gordon’s life...
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RIP Syd - Shine On


RIP Syd - Shine On
Originally uploaded by Herschell Hershey.
I had to meet someone near Abbey Road, and got there early, so I sat by the zebra crossing and watched the tourists come to photograph themselves crossing the zebra, some of them removing their shoes, like Paul, who was supposed to be dead, and all of them laughing. There was a boy in an Ireland football shirt, but he had a military jacket, like Sgt Pepper, or The Libertines, depending on how derivative he was feeling, and a Scandinavian guy with a girlfriend like Jean Seberg in A Bout De Souffle, and she kept fluffing the photo, so he had to keep crossing the zebra in his bare feet. And there was a nervous Japanese boy who didn't understand that the traffic would stop if he stepped out, so he kept putting his foot out towards the road and withdrawing it, until eventually he ran across the stripes and back, moving like a flick-action book, all jerky, with arms like scissors. So I went to the wall outside the studio, and there was a grey-haired man there, writing graffiti, and photographing it. He was a very distinguished looking vandal, with a very nice pen. I'm not sure if he wrote it, but he seemed to be photographing the little tribute to Pink Floyd's Syd Barrett, who had just died. Then again, maybe he wrote "Merci". It looks like it was scrawled with a fine pen. Which means he must have been called Pierre
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