First published on JVTV, November 2017 | Reformatted, May 2025
The Soundtrack of My Childhood
Music wasn’t just background noise in my childhood—it was the lifeblood of our home. It played from our Freemans catalogue hi-fi, a bulky, faux-wood machine paid off at £2.75 a week for an entire year. It stood proudly in the corner of our living room, and it was rarely silent.
The soundtrack was mainly Mum’s doing. Her staples included Tammy Wynette, Billy Jo Spears, Elvis, and occasionally Glen Campbell or Jim Reeves. My dad rarely touched the record player, but when he did, it was always the same record: Engelbert Humperdinck’s “Please Release Me”, played repeatedly whenever a divorce request was on the table. The message wasn’t subtle.
Family parties were chaotic, loud, and unforgettable. The music shaped the mood—and the drama. Mum would start us off with Elvis and country ballads. Uncle Chris would eventually hijack the turntable with his treasured Beatles collection. The kids begged for The Wombles, and if Uncle Paul got anywhere near his Bob Dylan LPs, arguments would erupt, scratches would be added to Highway 61 Revisited, and the night would end abruptly with raised voices and overturned chairs. Classic Versey.
From Tapes to Tokens: My Early Record-Buying Adventures
My personal record collection began slowly, mostly reliant on birthday tokens, Christmas gifts, or those rare weekends when Dad’s overtime paid more than his pub tab. One such memory, albeit fuzzy, is owning The Wombles’ “Remember You’re a Womble” at the age of four. The first record I can confidently say I bought myself was Wings’ “Mull of Kintyre”, purchased at the legendary Woolworths.
The mid-to-late ’70s were still Mum’s domain musically. Dad had the occasional say with Neil Diamond or a return to Engelbert, but the stereo’s control began shifting when my siblings and I got our own gear. My sister Tracie’s stack-playing record player was a marvel—twenty singles could be loaded, each one dropping with a clunk. She played Adam and the Ants constantly. I still recall the stray OMD album left behind by a boyfriend and Chas & Dave’s “Jamboree Bag”, which became oddly embedded in our family history—songs about beer, rabbits, Margate, and madness still floating through my head to this day.
Home Taping is (Was) Killing Time
When I started earning pocket money at the market and on paper rounds, my attention turned to blank tapes. I’d sit, finger hovering over the pause button, waiting to catch songs off Radio 1, praying Tommy Vance or Richard Skinner wouldn’t talk over the intro. Recording was a battlefield—interruptions came in the form of slamming doors, dinner calls, or sisters arguing. But when you got a clean tape? Magic.
In 1986, after several false starts with jobs and a disastrous YTS stint as a decorator (don’t ask—let’s just say it ended with a paint-covered body and a sabotaged kettle), I had enough saved to buy my first proper album. After hearing “Happy Hour” by The Housemartins at Portman Road, I marched into Boots to buy it—only to find it wasn’t out yet. So, on impulse, I bought something else.
That “something else” was a Sam Fox album. Not for the music, admittedly—but it came with a poster. A very memorable poster. In hindsight, I should’ve laminated it. No regrets though.
Finding My Band: Paul Heaton and the Sound of Ownership
Eventually, I did buy London 0 Hull 4. That purchase changed everything. For the first time, I had a band that was mine. Not Mum’s, not a hand-me-down from a sibling or a forgotten LP from one of their boyfriends—just mine. Paul Heaton, first with The Housemartins, then The Beautiful South, then solo, and eventually with Jacqui Abbott, became the artist I’ve followed through every release, every phase, every gig.
From 1986 through the late 1980s, I bought Bob Dylan LPs, John Lennon’s “Double Fantasy”, Ultravox, Madonna, and The Beatles’ Red and Blue albums. My collection was expanding, my taste evolving. Music wasn’t just entertainment—it was an identity.
The CD Years and Digital Shift
In 1988, I bought a CD player from the catalogue lady who lived three streets over. With no CDs to play, I headed to Woolies and bought two: the Theme from S’Express (CD single) and Kylie Minogue’s debut album. That kicked off a 19-year CD-buying spree, ending in 2007 when I digitised everything. Music Magpie took nearly 600 discs off my hands—roughly 32 CDs per year, which wasn’t bad considering my budget.
Genres weren’t a barrier. Sex Pistols, Led Zep, Bros, ABBA, The Jam, Elvis, Ultravox—I dabbled in everything. Even artists I didn’t like usually had one redeemable track. My motto? “If it sticks, it stays.”
First Gigs, Big Names, and Concert Shenanigans
My first live gig was Simple Minds at Wembley Arena. I remember none of it. Possibly the most underwhelming introduction to concerts ever. Thankfully, The Beautiful South rescued my live music faith.
Here are a few gigs that stand out:
- The Beautiful South (five times)
- Heaton & Abbott (seven times, latest: O2 Arena, 2022) – May 2025 edit – 11 times
- Glastonbury 1997—a blur of cider, hay fever pills, and The Prodigy
- Bob Dylan, REM, Oasis, The Sex Pistols, The Stone Roses, The Proclaimers
Dancing with Legends
- 2004: Got on stage with Glen Matlock (Sex Pistols) during a Dead Men Walking gig. My shirt was torn off by security. Glen told them to let me stay. I did.
- 2012: Danced with Sonia from EastEnders at Heaton Park during Fools Gold. She probably doesn’t remember. I never forget.
- 1996: Stood in a bar queue at Finsbury Park for Sex Pistols gig. Only realised after that I’d been next to Kate Moss and Johnny Depp for 10 minutes. They didn’t know who I was either. Fair play.
Closing Thoughts and My Top 5 Albums of All Time
Music’s been a lifelong companion. My tastes now lean retro—I’ve got little time for post-2005 bands (unless they’re Glasvegas). There’s too much brilliance in the back catalogue to bother with the present.
Here are my all-time top five albums:
- Never Mind The Bollocks – The Sex Pistols
- Different Class – Pulp
- Pet Sounds – The Beach Boys
- The Stone Roses – The Stone Roses
- Sunshine on Leith – The Proclaimers
(And let’s be honest—Double Fantasy would’ve made the cut if Yoko had been given the boot. Rename it Single Fantasy, and I’m in.)