I can’t get no satisfaction from … the Rolling Stones. Try as I might, they bore me to death.
Deep down, the only British band I’ve ever admired, apart from King Crimson, are Deep Purple, not least when the estimable Jon Lord was their keyboardist.
But even they pale to musical insignificance in comparison with or, rather, contrast to … Tangerine Dream, the only band or group I truly admire, whose music I believe to be a cut or two above Rock ‘n’ Roll.
Incidentally, a sure way to find out how you stand with your record or CD collection is to play it, over several weeks or months, chronologically, that is, from A-Z, so that by the time you get to, say, the R’s and the eighteenth album in your collection by the Rolling Stones, you’ve got a fair idea of how you feel about them and what their music does or doesn’t do for you. Believe me, this can amount to an immense test of the will … to persevere. But I’m past picking and choosing, since these days I rarely if ever buy a CD, and, right now, this is the only way I can force myself to play anything.