stairway to nowhere | stairway to nowhere
Jan.21.2012
Award-winning journalist, Nick Shatt, has agreed to conduct an exclusive interview with legend in his own panties, Luke Skyscraper. Shatt, three time consecutive winner of a Golden Turd, awarded by the British Union of Music Writers And Nob Kissers wrote for many years for top music paper, No...
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Jan.19.2012
“No future, no future for you” scowled Johnny Rotten in Anarchy In The UK.
John, unlike Sid Vicious, has had something of a future beyond his time in the initial spotlight- I’m a singer in a punk band, get me out of here indeed! Sidney always had too much rope. And now Johnny wants us...
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Dec.29.2011
The bikers have rented a self-contained flat in the upstairs part of a nice enough house on a nice enough street not far from Edgbaston cricket ground. Whoever lives downstairs is either dead, deaf, or terrified - quite possibly all three. In the interests of security, the Road Rats have nailed the...
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Dec.18.2011
I never had a train set, never had a bike, lived on a council estate and ran with a gang. I never went on holiday, went to a state school, son of a taxi driver, but no feeble-minded git, me – no, clever. Sharp. Ambitious. No dole factory pension illusion for me. Pop star me!
As a teenager, I was...
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Dec.03.2011
The rehearsal is absolutely terrible, Nobody’s mind is on what they’re doing. We’re all time traveling forward to sharing a dressing room and then a stage with Joe Strummer and his pals. I forget the words and try to make up for it by playing chords that have no business being anywhere near a...
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Dec.01.2011
Birmingham, England - July 1978
“The Cla …. The Cla … The Cla…”
“You’ve got the clap?”
“What, again?”
“No … The Cla ….”
“You really should cut down on the fags.”
“No stamina these keyboard players. What do you expect though? They just stand there all night.”
“The fucking Clash!”
“Congratulations. A...
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Oct.20.2011
Granddad Turner was dozing on the settee in front of “One Man And His Dog”. Just how dogs worrying sheep in and out of pens against the clock constituted entertainment was beyond me. His gentle snores and snorts of half-waking were the usual percussion of late afternoon. Weak Winter sunlight...
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Oct.15.2011
I was eleven-years-old and we were still living in our tiny council slum. One bright and freezing Saturday in December I strapped on my plastic Beatles guitar, slapped on my Woolworths black plastic Beatle wig, and tucked my shirt collar inside my shirt. Then I strode out onto the "stage" that...
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Oct.12.2011
I clambered onto a chair and up onto the polished top of Grandma James’s front room table. I looked round, my head just about level with the crowd and spied Auntie Christine over in the corner next to her Dansette record player. She was old, about 14 I think. Anyway, she wore a big girl’s party...
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Oct.11.2011
The row of terraced houses wound up and down Tiverton Road like an industrial accordion cast aside by a drunken giant. Grey slate roofs glistened with Christmas frost under the full moon. Roy and I scrambled out of the car and scurried down the entry to Grandma James backdoor. The front door was...
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