THE ONLY NAME FOR A ROSE:
This is another transmission from a field surfing stray internet connections
until the nice people at BT throw me a line – what joy.
Better news – the Stone Roses are to reform as we look forward to a world tour
of 2012 headline slots. There was a eureka moment at the end of the 80s,
recording out in the LA burbs. An enormo-screen tele was pumping MTV 24/7
out in the lobby, Nirvana was firing a nations imagination, denim had grown holes
at the knee. In the middle of Americana the Roses cut through with the opening hook
to Fools Gold. Suddenly shielded from the cruel glare of California sunshine by the
familiar comfort of Manchester cloud we danced in our heads to a different beat.
I got this instant connection to the sound, so tangentially different to the local vibes
& called everyone to come hear the call to arms. Our American friends stuck it for about
30 seconds & left. I remained transfixed, didn’t want to miss a single note. The posture of
the geezers on screen, their haircuts, the way they dressed & moved & slung their instruments
sent a message clearly meant just for me, that I was British to the bone & it was time to pack & come home.