Bill Drummond has just launched his latest book, The17.
It takes, as its starting point, the idea that ‘all recorded music has run its course. Dispense with all previous forms of music and music-making and start again’.
Now, I’ve been running Revolutionary Music for six months, selling CDs to Worthing’s most discerning customers from a tiny store in a back alley hiding beneath the heavy weight of the Guildbourne Centre. We sell to people who can talk knowledgably about The Wedding Present and their side-project The Ukrainians; understand the difference in fiddle style between Eliza Carthy, John McCusker and Bella Hardy; and already have Laura Marling’s album in the rare Songbox format.
And I’ve become slowly aware that, after a lifetime collecting music and building up over 2000 CDs filled with nu-folk and old jazz, psychedelic rock and dirty indie, new music and old Northern soul, that like Bill, I’m getting a bit bored of listening to music.
Bill formed a choir, The17, performing Fluxus-style scores. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.