3. "What's it going to be then, eh?"

"The vibe at Woodstock was an expression of the times. Energized by repugnance for a senseless war and for the entrenched discrimination of the establishment, a spirited but non-violent counter-culture was sweeping the country. That counter-culture burst into bloom like the mother of all Mother's Day bouquets at Woodstock." Joel Rosenman of Woodstock Ventures once said. "Woodstock is a reminder that inside each of us is the instinct for building a decent, loving community, the kind we all wish for. Over the decades, the history of that weekend has served as a beacon of hope that a beautiful spirit in each of us ultimately will triumph."

As far as I was concerned, those three days of peace, music and love happened in 1970, not 1969. That was when the film and two soundtrack albums were released. The year Joni Mitchell's song was issued and "Woodstock" went to number one on the singles chart. 

In my world, 1969 had meant the Monterey Pop movie, missing Bob Dylan at the second Isle Of Wight and being slightly bemused by John and Yoko's Bed In For Peace interviews on the evening news. 

It was the start of the Me decade. The optimism of the middle sixties counter culture was going sour. People started proclaiming, "Let's talk about Me". 

Death was in the air. Charles Manson, on trial for the Helter Skelter murders, became a cult hero and front cover star of "Rolling Stone". 

The US National Guard shot dead four students during a protest at Kent State University, Ohio. Crosby Stills Nash and Young rush released the song on a single. It was receiving national airplay within a month of the deaths. 

"Gimme Shelter", a documentary about the Rolling Stones disastrous Altamont Free Concert was promoted with a poster that blurted, "the music that thrilled the world, and the killing that stunned it".

Jimi Hendrix's last concert, the third Isle of Wight, was disrupted by anarchists and activists who wanted the event 

declared free. Paul McCartney announced that The Beatles had officially broken up. John Lennon sang,"the dream is over". 



The infamous Oz School kids issue was released and its publishers were charged with obscenity; a crime carrying a sentence of life imprisonment. The charges were eventually dropped following an appeal. 

Heavy Metal was born. Kraut Rock was emerging. The Laurel Canyon singer songwriter movement was coming to its peak. 

The age of the ultra violent movie had arrived. "The Devils", "Straw Dogs" and "The Wild Bunch" depicted unprecedented scenes of nudity and brutality. "A Clockwork Orange" inspired copycat crime. "The adventures of a young man, (Alex), whose principal interests are rape, ultra-violence and Beethoven", took the boundaries of the permissive society to their extreme. A 16 year old, James Palmer, beat a tramp to death. A woman was raped by a gang who, like Alex, sang "Singing in the Rain" as they carried out their ruthless violence. When questioned by police, one of the thugs said, "I got the idea to beat this bitch from a movie I saw. A Clockwork Orange". 

David Bowie originally modelled Ziggy Stardust on its fashions, coming on stage to the film's soundtrack and singing about droogies in "Suffragette City". 

During their 1975 American tour, Led Zeppelin's drummer, John Bonham, dressed like Alex and was introduced to the audience as "our Mr Ultraviolence". 

The influence of Clockwork Orange has never waned. Heaven 17, Moloko and The Droogs are all band names lifted from the book, whilst a label formed in Liverpool called Korova as an outlet for the band Echo and the Bunnymen. 

Going out became dangerous when you aspired to be a hippy and had long hair. That became crystal clear to me one night in Liverpool. Our school ran coach trips to evening events all over Lancashire. To football games mostly, but also to theatres and the cinema. One evening, they took us to Liverpool to see "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". I walked into a movie house full of skinheads. I almost crapped myself. When the lights dimmed and the film started, they kept tapping me on the shoulder and hissing in my ear, "Aye, lar, you're dead when you get outside, you are". I was bricking it. I didn't fancy a good kicking. So I bolted for my life as the final credits rolled. I made it to the coach in one piece. I sat at the back. I looked out of the window and saw a gang of skinheads shouting at the bus. "Aye, lar, come back down here, we wanna word wiv you". There was no way I was going to move. I might even have given them the finger as the coach pulled away. Or perhaps it was the peace sign. Make love, not war.  

I saw some phenomenal gigs. The Charisma Package Tour at the Floral Hall in Southport. Genesis supporting Lindisfarne and the headlining Van Der Graaf Generator. Fifty pence to get in. Within three years, Genesis would be filling football stadiums, Lindisfarne would go to number one and Van Der Graaf Generator would break up. It cost ten shillings for a ticket and very few people attended. 

I remember enjoying this gig, but this reviewer thought it was duff. 

King Crimson played the Wigan ABC. It was a completely different atmosphere to the Stones gig I had witnessed six years earlier. This one didn't sell out and the kaftan wearing long hairs were serious head nodders who wouldn't be seen dead screaming at the band. 

It was the golden age of Prog. The albums came thick and fast. The first three years of the decade saw all of these and more added to the shelf in my pink bedroom. Thick As A Brick, Close To The Edge, Selling England By The Pound. Foxtrot, Dark Side Of The Moon, Nursery Cryme, Fragile. Birds of Fire, Pawn Hearts, Aqualung, Meddle. Stormcock,  H to He Who Am the Only One, The Grand Wazoo. The Yes Album, In The Land Of Grey And Pink, The Inner Mounting Flame, Tubular Bells. In Search Of Space, Dance Of the Lemmings, Tago Mago, Neu !

I had discovered the Liverpool Stadium too. It became my musical mecca. It was a spit and sawdust  auditorium with a capacity of approximately three thousand. Cold and ugly, with primitive seating and a boxing ring in the middle that doubled as the stage. The air was always thick with the sweet smells of hashish and patchouli oil. There were dope dealers and stalls where vendors sold programmes, badges and other counter culture paraphernalia. Roger Eagles promoted an eclectic selection of the best bands around in this dilapidated boxing hall. He later opened Liverpool's legendary Eric's club. 

When Hawkwind played there, Lemmy was still in the band and Miss Stacia danced naked and handed joss sticks out to the crowd. Lemmy later said, "She was a bookbinder by profession and then she had an uncontrollable urge one night to take all her clothes off and paint herself blue. It was probably a throwback to the Roman invasion of Britain. You think woad, y'know? She was great, blowing bubbles onstage and shit. She was an impressive woman. Six foot two with a 52-inch bust. An overwhelming sight for the youngsters in the crowd."           (Do Not Panic, BBC 4 documentary 2007).


Hawkwind recorded "Space Ritual" at the Stadium. Many people consider it their best album, but I wasn't at that show. Captain Beefheart's Magic Band appeared shortly before their legendary Bickershaw appearance. Frank Zappa once came and played "Willie the Pimp". Roxy Music landed when "Virginia Plain" was released. Bowie brought Ziggy and the Spiders From Mars. One of the strangest bills was avant garde jazz rockers Soft Machine supported by Loudon Wainwright III. I went for Loudon Wainwright. He was a big John Peel favourite and I knew his albums off by heart. I went into the Cross Keys for a drink before that concert and he was in there. I got close enough to speak to him, but didn't have the bottle.