I laughed out loud when you wrote about mis-hearing the lyrics Rock Lobster (“That’s satanic butter!”)I have my own mis-heard lyrcis from that song. For years I thought he was saying “Everybody had magic towels!” Works for me!

I originally intended to send this email to the email address in the front of the book but it seems to be defunct, so I think I’m just going to have to be an embarrassing fan boy in public (luckily cloaked by anonymity).

This is uncool indeed.

Anyway, I originally meant to send this email back in 2004 when i first impulse-bought “This Is Uncool” in Sister Ray in Soho, took it home and quickly realised it was easily my favourite book on pop music ever.

I remember literally gobbling this book up at the time, because I loved your writing, your utter disregard for genres and rock snobbery, your deft but clear politics and most of all your obvious passion for pop music. I think you say in your intro how rare it is to read a book that treats British pop seriously, and I agree entirely. To misquote Bill Shankley, “pop isn’t a matter of life and death, its much more important than that”.

I suppose it didn’t hurt that I happen to agree with a lot of your tastes (we only wildly diverge on Suede, who are one of my favourite bands of all time, but I suppose it would feel a bit creepy if we agreed on absolutely everything), but what really excited me was the way you made me see songs I already loved from a new angle, so that i had to put down the book every three minutes to play each song you wrote about again.

I loved the way your writing was supple enough to be brutal (ie on Rhoda with the Special AKA), personal and funny (Bam Bam), sheer giggly enthusiastic (Janet Jackson “When I Think Of You”) and pointed (i loved your writing on Prince, The Smiths and the Pet Shop Boys in particular, you really put them in context for me) and sometimes all of the above.

And this is probably my favourite sentence ever written about pop: “You know, every time a Pet Shop Boys single turns up I just want to stand up and cheer.” That is IT, that is what loving music is about.

So I’m aware that I’m gushing a bit, but I got the impression you probably wouldn’t mind. A few last things. Hope you don’t mind that I’ve been using and abusing your Rule One ever since I read the book. Thank you for pushing me into the arms of Magazine and The Associates. And thanks for making me feel like I’m not the only person in the world who gets very over excited about this stuff!

302 and counting…

303. Keith Sweat. Nice jumper.

315. Talking Heads.

325.

324. 325 by year end?

Picture This and Rapper’s Delight. Both 7″ singles. Best £2.49 spent ever.

Your Mullhollandness,

I bought This Is Uncool 12 years ago in a Soho bookshop and haven’t put it down since (except perhaps when I needed both hands to turn over a 45 on the turntable). I dip into it ALL the time and have had the equivalent of days of enjoyment from it. So, a 12″ disco mega-mix size thank you!

I have to admit that alot of the later rap the book talks about doesn’t make my own kettle boil, but the ’76 to ’85 selections are methinks pretty spot on and damn well written. Yes,1979 was a year as rare as a a smile from Kevin Rowlands Yes, Holidays In The Sun was the fab four’s best single. Yes, One Nation Under A Groove is indeed the dance record that can grind legs to stumps. And… The Scars – Horrorshow … Yes, yes, yes! (or maybe that should be Aye, aye, aye!)

Without going all slushy, I have to admit that I love the book. It makes me happy and sad at the same time which is bizarrely a kinda nice feeling. Happy, because I can picture myself back in my schoolkid bedroom on Dunwich’s Abbatoir Road playing the hell out of one of those great singles I bought at the chemists up the hill. Sad, because the chemists isn’t there anymore, because records like that don’t get made anymore and becasue I can’t make it up that hill today without having to lean on a wall now and again to get my breathe back.

Here’s to you then, Your Garryship. Thanks for the uplifting melancholy.

May your singles always have picture sleeves,

Keef Strang
(one trick, two-bit, third-rate rock hack)

Brother in law gave me this for Christmas years ago. Reading it on Christmas day, I realised Gary was the person my then wife had an affair with in the 80s, when he was an aspiring music journo working in a Camden town record shop. Ultimately, this guy did me a favour, as well as writing a not bad book. Cheers.

Grace Jones.
Apex Twin.
The Cramps.

Closer to 500.