'Memories of music through pages of my NME book show their take on legendary artists'

The NME published a couple of pages each week and you put them in a folder. I used to be quite into that sort of thing before The Day The Music Died (in 1976 on the Bill Grundy show).

I gave up on the NME anyway. It was a nasty little music paper and I thought it glamorised drug-taking, so probably wasn't the target readership.

Musically it had the broadmindedness and tolerance of the Taliban. The Carpenters were a particular target. I liked them, and history has proven to be on my side. They also took regular pot-shots at Mike Batt, the creator of the Wombles, and when he reacted to the taunts the NME gleefully rejoiced in him "rising to the bait like a demented trout."

Now don't think I'm an old fuddy-duddy. I have heard of Take That and the Spice Girls. But I sense the buzz and the frisson just isn't the same. Today children even get electric guitars as presents.

Going back, you couldn't get American electric guitars in Britain at all because of some trade restriction.

It was Cliff Richard who imported the first Fender Stratocaster into the UK, for Hank Marvin. They opened it up, all red and gleaming, the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. They just sat dumbstruck for a few minutes staring at it.

Back to the NME Book of Rock, full of bands long forgotten by people who weren't there, like the Pink Fairies. It was either the Pink Fairies or Squid who were once booked to come to our school disco. But there was a tragic mix-up of dates.