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Pop goes rock’n’roll

With the band Gay Dad, I was a recipient of the last big deal of the Britrock era and a cause of its silliest hype. The industry was losing the plot, the US was losing interest and British pop was dying

By Nick Crowe   September 2002

It was on a bleak morning in south London that the angels first spoke to Gay Dad. In a dank, windowless rehearsal room scarred by fag burns and gum, the band began to play. At first we produced a limp noise with little useful progression. Then came a burst of intensity. Everyone felt it coming, the reward of regular rehearsals, a movement repeated over and over, refined until, almost inaudibly, voices came streaming in between guitars, like celestial bodies sweeping across a sonic ionosphere. These may have been just the clashing of harmonics but to us, in our quest for…

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