My London Years Of Rock

Those were the days

Photo by Just Jack on Unsplash

Like Johnny Cash, I’ve been everywhere, man.

At least in London.

I had the opportunity to witness history as it unfolded. I was in the raging music clubs of London in the Sixties before Bowie got big and Pink Floyd was getting there. I saw and was part of it all: The drugs, the sex, the rock ’n’ roll. Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, and more.

When punk rock came about a decade later, nothing changed, other than I got older. I was there for that, too. I had a pair of Doc Martens and a leather jacket instead of a denim one.

The musicians changed, but the quality certainly didn’t. If anything, The Clash and Buzzcocks continued where the others left off ten years prior.

During those two decades, I wound up finding my favorite pubs and clubs and became a regular there. I ate fish ’n’ chips at The Plough a block away from the British Museum. I’d eat there for lunch, check out artifacts stolen from our old colonies, and return to The Plough to wash away the knowledge with a Guinness. I sat on the third stool from the far right; it provided the best view of the museum across the street whenever I’d turn around.

At night, I traded my scholasticism in Bloomsbury for the raunchiness in Soho. My favorite two clubs to go to were La Chasse and The Marquee. The best of the best in blues and Seventies pop would perform there. When punk emerged, I didn’t have to change neighborhoods, as Soho had the Vortex which I was also a regular at.

Those days of pub and club-hopping are long gone for me. When my owner started developing a gut, he bought a new pair of jeans and put me in the dresser for good. But eh, at least I lasted for a while.