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Since he was very young, author Giles Smith was attracted to the world of pop music: the songs played on the radio, the concerts aired on TV, the 7 singles he bought or stole, the bizarre hairstyles, and the electric guitars. He began to feverishly collect records and imitate his idols, especially Marc Bolan of T. Rex. Smith played in school bands, dreaming of one day becoming a pop star himself. The only thing related to pop music to ever have come out of his hometown of Colchester, England, though, is a fake story about the Beatles stopping into a grocery store there to buy candy on the way to one of their concerts. Smith’s love for pop music led him to play it, first in amateur teen bands that no one would hire, then in the Cleaners from Venus, which never made it anywhere despite getting signed with RCA in Germany. They recorded an album, however, and after all is said and done, that’s what counts. The album was recorded in a dive studio with pathetic equipment, and the band occasionally slept there overnight. But nothing else mattered besides getting to record an album, a real album. This book is a firsthand account of failure and indelible love. With sharp humor, Smith recalls his childhood dreams, the bands in which he played over the years, the records he listened to and collected, and the crucial years in which he developed an eternal passion for pop music and its culture.
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Since he was very young, author Giles Smith was attracted to the world of pop music: the songs played on the radio, the concerts aired on TV, the 7 singles he bought or stole, the bizarre hairstyles, and the electric guitars. He began to feverishly collect records and imitate his idols, especially Marc Bolan of T. Rex. Smith played in school bands, dreaming of one day becoming a pop star himself. The only thing related to pop music to ever have come out of his hometown of Colchester, England, though, is a fake story about the Beatles stopping into a grocery store there to buy candy on the way to one of their concerts. Smith’s love for pop music led him to play it, first in amateur teen bands that no one would hire, then in the Cleaners from Venus, which never made it anywhere despite getting signed with RCA in Germany. They recorded an album, however, and after all is said and done, that’s what counts. The album was recorded in a dive studio with pathetic equipment, and the band occasionally slept there overnight. But nothing else mattered besides getting to record an album, a real album. This book is a firsthand account of failure and indelible love. With sharp humor, Smith recalls his childhood dreams, the bands in which he played over the years, the records he listened to and collected, and the crucial years in which he developed an eternal passion for pop music and its culture.