Our beloved landlady suggested this additional feature, which should get a few of you going. What was your life like 25 years ago? Believe it or not, that’s 1990 – yes, a full quarter of a century has passed since Thatcher cried: ‘Infamy! Infamy! They’ve all got it in for me!’ That’s not Daryl Hall on the left, by the way – ’tis moi as I was 25 years ago. What was I doing in 1990? I was making music with a pal; the previous year I’d been in a guitar band and when they split I got into the burgeoning dance scene big time and started fiddling with electronics; we worked under the name ‘Inferno’ (What do you mean, you’ve never heard of us?). I was listening to the likes of 808 State, Inner City and all the other Rave-era stuff as well as the Mondays, Roses and Soul II Soul, and some more poppy stuff like Deee-Lite. Just to be different, though, I wasn’t having E’s for breakfast; I was snorting speed. That’s probably why I weighed six stone.
I was signing-on. I had a dog called Patch. I was head-over-heels in love with somebody who didn’t feel the same way about me (some things never change – though the memory of her remains heart-skippingly untarnished). I was 22 and was still ordering ‘Melody Maker’ from the local newsagent. I remember watching ‘Twin Peaks’ and ‘Vic Reeves’ Big Night Out’, and Tracey Corkhill aborting Barry Grant’s baby on ‘Brookside’. England making the World Cup semi-final enlivened a tournament that contained some of the dreariest games of football I’ve ever sat through. No wonder Gazza cried.
And that’s about it – apart from the fact that I also had a nervous breakdown and received psychiatric treatment for the first (‘though not the last) time. So, that was me 25 years ago. Where were you?