Anna and music are like fire and water. Music is fire, Anna puts it out. Or turns it down on the stereo. Silence is music to her ears.

This, I promise, is a story about Kevin. Yet it begins decades before I met him. My parents, while greatly fond of music, opted professionally for more pragmatic choices. I was their first child and, I am sure, a huge adjustment. By the time my brother and sister arrived, however, they had the parenthood gig off pat, and suddenly they remembered: music!

We are not talking popular music here. That never really entered into the equation. We are talking Aida, string quartets, Lutosławski. When I was in my teens, my sister was a serious violinist, and my brother played the piano with equal seriousness. The afternoons in our tiny 3-room flat went like this: violin practice in the room on the right; piano practice in the room on the left; my head exploding from the noise in the room between the two.

As soon as it became practicable, I moved out. Both of my siblings went on to become professional musicians, excellent at their craft. My parents are endlessly proud, and so am I. But I love silence much more than any sound. I am the person that, upon entering a restaurant, asks the waiter to turn the music down before even opening the menu. The stereo in my car? I do not know even know to switch it on.

When I first visited Joanna and Kevin in their house in Headington, they were wonderfully welcoming hosts, so much so that Kevin gave up his music room to serve as a guestroom. As I was settling in for the night, it hit me: Kevin has a music room. Given a room of his own, he chose to fill it with a huge collection of music, a stereo, and a sofa. When he wants a moment to himself, or just a moment of tranquility – I imagined – he lets the music play.

To me, music is noise. I know, in an abstract sense, that music can brings peace, or that it can cheer people up, or help them through a rough patch. Yet in Kevin’s music room, that idea became tangible to me. It became something that I truly could grasp.

I’ll never share Kevin’s excitement about a new CD, or a fantastic concert. But I did learn something important from him about having music in one’s life. Kevin’s music room was a powerful illustration of the importance of music when it is used to enrich life, not dominate it. A part of life lovingly treasured, cherished enough to be given its own room. I like that.

(And the stereo in my car? When I loan the car to Kevin and Joanna and Jan, they put it to good use. I am sure the stereo loves them with all its electronic heart, to the tune of AC/DC!)

Never underestimate the power of parents’ drinks evenings in a local pub. Absolutely essential for latest gossip (that’s girls’ night out) and making those crucial music connections that may in the future result in some amazing gig experiences. You’ll have to read on to find out what Rob had to offer.

Surely I must be the newest of the newbies on Kevin’s music chum timeline. In fact, to date, it’s just been near misses… “You went to see Julian Cope last year? I did too… didn’t see you there.”

But ultimately it’s the gritted-teeth graciousness I showed in allowing him to take my Neil Young ticket a few weeks back which will last the distance. Reports from my mate, that he met up with there, suggest he was a somewhat excitable puppy throughout, each extended feedback song finale bringing more squeals of delight – his polite verdict to me was “Very electric, very long, tonnes of feedback, exactly what I would want…”. I suspect he enjoyed it more than I would have – which is good enough for me…

So, from one man who avidly taped his favourite tracks off the radio 30 years back, to another man who incredibly (to me anyway) still uses a tape recorder for that very task – Happy Birthday! That’s Altered Images not Stevie Wonder of course…

Rob

If you ever wondered where Kevin’s love of neatness comes from – best expressed in the filing and storing system for his CDs, records and tapes (yes, Liz, you are right – they are all still in the garage, dated and labelled…) – you need not look any further. Liz is the best Mum and friend, and makes the best cottage pie on the Isle of Man (sorry Donna!).

Well, where do I begin with Kevin’s music?  I wish his dad was here to remember when he started Kevin’s interest in music.  As far as I can remember the first LPs were possibly Rainbow and Black Sabbath.  This could have been round about the time when he got his first record player.  But maybe earlier memories are him playing  Shakin’ Stevens and learning to dance like him (yes, I know it seems hard to believe…).

He used to play music every morning before going to school – that’s primary school.  Of course, he progressed a lot from there. We used to have the endless lists at Christmas and I used to go to the record stall in Nelson to order these LPs, Aerosmith, Guns’n’Roses,  AC/DC  etc., etc.

Can you believe we went to a Tight Fit gig and Sad Café? But the best was seeing Robert Plant and The Who on the Isle of Man.  Kev would go anywhere to see Robert Plant and once met him and shook his hand. Robert Plant and The Who gigs stand out more in my mind – absolutely fantastic. I believe he’s gone to see The Who again last night at Wembley with his mate Shaun.

We had the John Peel days as well. By this time Kev was sometimes out, so we were instructed to remember to change the tape, as he used to set up the tape recorder to tape John Peel on the radio. So Saturday mornings were taken up with him going through all the tapes and deleting/listening to certain numbers.

I bet he’s still got all these tapes in a big box somewhere.

As far as music was concerned, nothing was too much trouble for Kevin. He’d find tapes or CDs if we so much as said we liked a certain group. He just loves music.

He used to do quite a lot of compilations for his Dad to play on the car cassette player, e.g. listening to Madness while going on holiday, or Cocktail /Billy Joel. Maybe that was our music and not Kev’s. I suppose Kev has always been brought up with us playing music every day, but he did get into the deeper rock bands and some of the posters on his bedroom were awful – I can say that now.

When I think back he was always plugged into a cassette player in the early days, now his music taste is, well……………………………………

I nearly forgot to add the Metal Hammer magazines you bought, remember Kev you’d keep most of them always referring back to some music piece etc.

Happy 40^th Kevin, keep on gigging and strumming!

Love, Mum x

Donna, Kevin’s little sister, has always had a mind of her own. There is, however, one area of life she’s always trusted Kevin’s judgement with – stocking up her music selection. Donna, Steve (the honorary 1st blogger), little Jack and Molly (aka Lady Gnasher) live on the Isle of Man.

Where do I begin? When  I think of Kev and music, so much  springs to my mind that it will be hard to keep this to a reasonable length and not start writing a book!

My early memories start with Dad really, as Mum and Dad always used to have music playing when we were younger. Dad got me and Kev into taping off the radio (Sunday charts) and also creating our own cover versions of songs… Gerry Rafferty, a tape recorder and a microphone and we were off!  Our car journeys on holidays to Scotland or Cornwall always involved a stack of complication cassettes of dads, which over time became something that Kev started to compile for us instead. As Kev started to develop his own interest in music including Adam Ant, Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Kenny Logins (I take full responsibility for the latter for buying him the  Dangerzone single, Christmas 1986!!) he was introduced to the likes of Rainbow and Led Zep, bands which I guess started to pave out Kev’s music tastes for many years to come. As a teenager he went deep into heavy metal and I will always remember his Christmas list being full of bands I had never heard off (and actually didn’t want to listen to!) but it was what Kev liked and he never tired of playing his LPs and cassettes in his bedroom. And so it carried on. Some of the older groups are still up there in Kev’s top list – Led Zep without a doubt taking the number one slot and what about Neil Young or is it Neil Diamond?!

Kev has always had a ‘knack’ for introducing others to different music and I can honestly say the CDs he’s bought me over the years have always lived up to my expectations when you say to someone to ‘just choose something you think I will like’ not chart music, not too off the wall, just good music that I myself would never have been able to pick out.

Aside of listening to music, his guitar playing has always been something in the background that he quietly plugs away at and then there’s the concerts as well. Always going somewhere to see someone which seems to be on a weekly basis at the minute!

Music to me is something I listen to but to Kev music is so much more, a passion just like it was for Dad and one that matures with us. Where would many of us be without Kev’s influence and also Kev without Dad’s? Maybe our collections would be full of Mika, The Pet Shop Boys and Deacon Blue instead!!!

Enjoy your blog Kev and have a fantastic birthday 🙂

Lots of Love,

Sis (Donna) xxxx

Richard is a storyteller; a kind of person old tribes would choose to store the wisdom and knowledge the nation has gathered over centuries. He also very convincingly pretends to be Scottish, and is solely responsible for the name of this blog!

There’s a broad musical heritage in OX2 – spit-flecked taverns turned hipster-burger bars where Radiohead first lurched, Ride rode, and Talulah Gosh probably just flounced around in blouses. But you wouldn’t know it down Great Clarendon Street. Walls of wisteria, quads within quads, the constant susurration of the air-conditioning. Filing cabinets that snick shut with morgue finality.

Almost half a decade ago (when he was still sprightly, and had ankles that worked) I met Kevin. We’re down with OUP. Yeah. You know me.

Suddenly working life had an edge. An auditory paper-cut through the tedium of turning manuscripts into photocopier fodder. There aren’t many people who can demolish Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers so completely while espousing their views on the aesthetics of drone, Dave Mustaine’s disquieting spider chord (if you are sneering, go and look it up on YouTube), desert rock, Nuggets psyche, experimental hip-hop, sparse electronica, the parlous nature of contemporary  music journalism…

Many an hour of gainful employment was frittered away with shared reminiscence of ITV’s late eighties, late-night, legendary lump of Rawk – the Power Hour. Old tunes were returned to, new tunes exchanged. The IT department started monitoring emails for improbably large mp3 files.

Now I’m firmly ensconced in the hinterlands, where the mountains forever ring to the sound of Mogwai. All good in this ’hood. So I’ll raise a glass and wish the man himself a Happy 40^th (blimey, you’re as old as Aladdin Sane). Many thanks, my friend. If you fancy a dram, ramble on. And tell Jo we’ve got plenty of Boris…

Les Wazoox shot to fame in the 90’s for no apparent reason. He is best known for his successful club act “Les Wazoox And His Amazing Glancing Lizards”. In this post, Les reminisces over his early memories while Kevin was still in his late forties.

I first met Kevin while celebrating the annual trapeze trials. His mind seemed elsewhere and I noticed he was sporting a cassette Walkman on his belt. He resonated with the muffled sound of shouting and screeching guitars. On enquiry, he mentioned something about his clutch and I bid him good evening.

Despite the thrill of the circus and his near-perfect elastic band act, it became clear to me that Kevin wanted more from life. He withdrew from the circus coffee mornings and lost interest in Mr. Bonbo’s half-year slap-head results. Some of the clowns accused him of stealing their fruit and nut.

I wasn’t surprised when he handed in his laughing teeth. Nevertheless, I pleaded with him to stay one more night.

That evening, During my gecko glancing performance set to the music of Blacksploitation, I noticed that Kevin was writing feverishly in his notepad and flicking rhythms on his footstool. Suddenly I realised Kevin’s life ambition – he wanted to be a music writer. Or a carpenter.