Pagan Magazine: Remembered and Reimagined

A mock-up cover illustrating how Pagan Magazine might look 

in 2024 based on a recent post on Torpedo the Ark

 

Last year marked the 40th anniversary of Pagan: The Magazine of Blood-Knowledge (1983-1992). 

 

And, whilst I have discussed the origins of this obscure publication previously on Torpedo the Ark and provided a full index of issues - click here - I think this might be an opportune moment to offer a few further remarks in response to a suggestion that Pagan be digitised and made available online and in answer to the following questions asked by this same person:

1. Can you explain why you chose the title Pagan for the magazine?

 

As far as I recall, this was inspired by D. H. Lawrence; not just his religious and occult writings, but the fact that he and his close friends belonged to a literary society as adolescents referred to by some as 'the Pagans' [1]. 

 

This small group would discuss all kinds of ideas and read authors including Marx, Nietzsche, and Darwin and I wanted the magazine to reflect the same degree of intellectual curiosity. My readings of Nietzsche in the mid-1980s only reinforced my view that this was the perfect name for the magazine and although I never used the following section from The Will to Power, it very much reflects the kind of thing that fired my imagination at the time:

 

"We few or many who again dare to live in a dismoralised world, we pagans in faith: we are probably also the first to grasp what a pagan faith is: - to have to imagine higher creatures than man, but beyond good and evil; to have to consider all being higher as also being immoral. We believe in Olympus - and not in the 'Crucified'." [2]

 

I still think it's a nice title, although that's partly due to the fact that I'm strongly inclined towards auto-descriptive words beginning with the letter P: punk, pirate, poet, pagan, etc. However, I would almost certainly change the subtitle - if it ever was the subtitle and not merely a strapline - as the irrationalist concept of blood-knowledge is one I have come to find problematic [3]. I think now I would be tempted to go with Pagan: the Magazine of Dark Enlightenment.

 

 

2. Can you remember the circumstances surrounding the production of the early issues?

 

Not very well. I was twenty at the time and studying for a degree in Leeds. That period is very much like a dream now and I don't remember much about it.  

 

Fortunately, however, I kept a diary and, apparently, it was on Thursday 7 April, 1983, that I suddenly had the idea of putting together a magazine that would reflect my new philosophy - a post-punk primitivism partly inspired by D. H. Lawrence and a second-hand copy of the Larousse Encyclopedia of World Mythology.

 

I designed a front cover - which, to be honest, is a complete dog's dinner - and began writing the text that evening. The first issue wasn't completed, however, until the middle of the following month, when I was in London at Charisma Records. 

 

It was there that I made a hundred photocopies of the ten-side issue on 16 May. Don't ask what happened to them, but I know that one was sent to Malcolm McLaren's office at 25 Denmark Street and it might be noted that the woman's face featured on the cover with a thick black band of makeup across her eyes was inspired by the dancers in the 'Buffalo Gals' video (a look McLaren borrowed from Ridley Scott's Bladerunner (1982)). 

 

The image of Priapus which also featured on the cover was intended to be a kind of logo, but, sadly, it didn't appear on any future issues and I think Pan became the presiding deity for the most part.   

 

The superior second issue, with original artwork by Gillian Hall - my on-off (mostly off) partner at the time - came out in July and was quickly followed by issue three, which was a poetry issue with a picture of Jordan (Pamela Rooke) on the cover. The magazine didn't really come into its own until the period 1986-89, which is when the vast bulk of issues were produced (on A3 paper). 

 

 

3. Were you part of the pagan/esoteric/occult scene in the 1980s?

 

No, not at all. 

 

My interests were very much to do with art, politics, and popular culture, rather than magic or witchcraft. I read books about the latter and had a T-shirt with a picture of Aleister Crowley on, but that was about it. 

Having said that, there were issues of Pagan on subjects including alchemy, astrology, and tarot, so it would be a little disingenuous to say I had no interest in (or knowledge of) these things. Further, I was a regular reader of Pagan News, edited by Phil Hine, who has since become an internationally respected author on chaos magic and related topics and we occasionally cross paths in London. 

 

However, my attempt to garner support for the magazine from Leonora James, the Gardnerian High Priestess who was then serving as President of the Pagan Federation, ended badly after she decided that images I had used by German Expressionist painters had paedophile undertones. She warned me that if I were to send her any future copies of Pagan Magazine she would immediately report me to the police!

 

After that, I had no further contact with people on the pagan scene until I met Christina Harrington, in 2004, and became involved with things happening at her magical little bookshop, Treadwell's [4].     

 

 

4. Finally, do you still identify as a pagan and do you see Torpedo the Ark as a continuation of the project you began with Pagan Magazine forty years ago?   

 

I don't really identify as anything to be honest and, whilst there are certainly posts on TTA that might be interpreted as pagan in character, the blog is ultimately a very different kettle of fish and has a radically different philosophy and perspective. I found it fun doing the mockup cover for an imaginary issue of Pagan Magazine published in 2024, but don't think my heart would really be in it if asked to produce an entire new issue. Some things are very much of their time and Pagan belongs in the 1980s like a fish belongs in water. 

 

But again, having said that, I obviously still read Lawrence and Nietzsche and I have presented two papers at Treadwell's recently - one on the magical allure of objects and the other on occultism in the age of transparency [5] - so, who knows, perhaps for the 50th anniversary I might be tempted to reboot the magazine. But I doubt it.      

 

 

Artwork for Pagan Magazine, Issue 2 (1983), 

by Gillian Hall

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See John Worthen, D. H. Lawrence: The Early Years 1885-1912, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 170.  

[2] Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (Vintage Books, 1968), section 1034 (1888), p. 533.

 

[3] I have twice discussed Lawrence's concept of blood-knowledge on Torpedo the Ark: click here and here. 

 

[4] See the post dated 4 December 2012 entitled 'The Treadwell's Papers' - click here. 

 

[5] Details of both these events can be found on the TTA Events page: click here.

 

 

Memories of Summer '84: Charisma

Just another day in the press office at Charisma Records 

for Jazz and Lee Ellen (1984)

 

 

Entry from The Von Hell Diaries Tuesday 7 August 1984

By the time I got into Charisma this morning, Lee Ellen was already freaking out because Malcolm had cancelled three cover-interviews [1]. As she tried to re-arrange things, I was sent over to McLaren's office on Denmark Street with two cheques: the first for £5000 (a video fee) and the second for £20,000 (advance against the next album). 

 

I had also been given a letter, marked private and confidential, that I was instructed to hand personally to Malcolm. Unfortunately, there was no one in to receive either the letter or the cheques when I got to Moulin Rouge. However, on the way out I bumped into Malcolm and we both went up to his first floor office.

 

Clearly, the contents of the letter were not to his liking. And when Carrolle [2] arrived, he told her she couldn't have the half-day agreed, but would have to type up an immediate reply, which I was to then take back to Charisma. While they worked on the letter, I chatted with Andrea [3] who, by this time, had also arrived at the office. 

 

As well as the letter, Malcolm also gave me three tape cassettes and a small box containing 'valuable jewellery' that he wanted to have couriered to Nick Egan [4] in New York without the US customs knowing anything about it. I was told to wrap the things up carefully and if anyone asked at Charisma what the package contained I should tell them it was a rubber fish. 

 

For security, I was put in a cab by Carrolle - even though the walk from Denmark Street to Wardour Street is literally only a few minutes via Soho Square.              

 

Later, Lee Ellen called me and said I should meet her at 6 o'clock at the Soho Brasserie on Old Compton Street, where Malcolm was going to give an interview to someone from Time Out. Had a fun night chatting, eating sausages, and drinking Black Russians. The Melody Maker journalist Colin Irwin joined us - he's clearly in love with Lee Ellen, but then, to be fair, who isn't?

 

The terrible trio - Glen Colson, Jock Scott, and Keith Allen [5] - also briefly came over. Not sure I'm a fan of the latter; a bit too aggessive for my tastes, so glad when he and his pals headed off to the Wag Club. 

 

Found it ironic that, interview over, Talcy Macly of all people should tell me he's never seen anyone as pale as I am. He asked Lee Ellen what she'd being doing to me. 

 

He also advised that I needed to 'calm down' a little, saying that he'd never want to rob a bank with me as I made him a nervous wreck. 'Listen Jazz boy', he said, 'you've got to learn how to make people feel comfortable. Be a bit more cunning; don't show so much enthusiasm'. Having acted as my mentor-cum-career's advisor, he then launched into a long (but fascinating) monologue about Oscar Wilde. 

 

With regret, I left in time to catch the last tube back to Chiswick. Lee Ellen told me the next day that Malcolm kept her up until 2am with his stories and his complaints that pictures from a recent photo session had made him look like Michael Bentine. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lee Ellen Newman was the Press Officer at Charisma Records, a label founded in 1969 by Tony Stratton Smith and home to a few old hippies, such as Genesis, but also the label to which Malcolm McLaren was signed.

[2] Carrolle Payne was McLaren's Personal Assistant at Moulin Rouge (25, Denmark Steet). 

  

[3] Andrea Linz was a talented fashion student and McLaren's girlfriend and muse at the time. 

 

[4] Nick Egan is a visual artist and graphic designer who collaborated with Mclaren on many projects in the early and mid-1980s. 

 

[5] Glen Colson was a music publicist associated with Charisma Records; Jock Scott was a popular performance poet (about whom I published a post on 18 April 2016 in his memory - click here); Keith Allen was associated at this time with a group of British comic actors known as the Comic Strip. 

 

 

Musical bonus: Malcolm McLaren, 'Madam Butterfly (un bel di vedremo)', single released from the album Fans (Charisma Records, 1984) on 20 August 1984: click here. Video directed by Terence Donovan.

 

 

For further memories of the summer of 1984, click here and/or here.    

 

Memories of Summer '84: Stringfellows

Bev Hillier photographed in the office at Just Seventeen 

(Soho, 1984)

 

Entry from The Von Hell Diaries Wednesday 11 July 1984 

 

As I had nothing better to do and nowhere else to go, I spent the afternoon hanging around Soho ... 

 

Crossed paths with Adam Ant and Marco Pirroni on Wardour Street. I was tempted to say hello, but didn't. After all, what can one say without immediately adopting the position of a fan? 

 

Called in to see Lee Ellen at Charisma [1]. She was going to a party at Stringfellows [2] to celebrate the launch of Music Box [3] and invited me along. 

 

Can't say I was particularly impressed by the venue or the crowd and, alarmed by the bar prices, felt every inch the society boy on social security ... [4] 

 

Dave Vanian and Rat Scabies from the Damned were there; as was Feargal Sharkey and Midge Ure. Couldn't decide if I was in pop star heaven or pop star hell and wasn't sure they'd know either. 

 

Was more impressed by the Amazonian-like cocktail waitresses; tall, leggy blondes wearing tutus and skimpy leotards. At some point, one of them squeezed the square-padded shoulders of my jacket and said: 'Are they real?' 

 

I suppose she was just trying to be funny, but it seemed a bit cheeky at the time and I couldn't help thinking that one might squeeze her breasts and ask the same. 

 

Before leaving, I made small talk with the photographer Neil Matthews and the video director Tim Pope. I like the former: not sure about the latter; friendly, but don't really know him. 

 

Also stopped to say hello to Bev Hillier, the features assistant at Just Seventeen, who I have always had something of a crush on. 

 

She looked sexy dressed in a stripy sailor outfit, but told me she hoped one day to meet a rich man who would take her away from everything, as she didn't want to still be on the party circuit and working all hours for a magazine when aged forty. 

 

Made me wonder on the way home if anyone is ever really happy with their job (with their life)?

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lee Ellen Newman was the Press Officer at Charisma Records, a label founded in 1969 by Tony Stratton Smith and home to a few old hippies, such as Genesis, but also the label to which Malcolm McLaren was signed. 

 

[2] Music Box was a pioneering pan-European 24-hour cable and satellite television channel operated by Thorn EMI and Virgin Vision. It broadcast from 29 March 1984 to 30 January 1987, before the world decided that what it really wanted to watch was MTV. 

 

[3] Stringfellows was a London nightclub opened by Peter Stringfellow in 1980. A venue at which the rich and famous loved to party throughout the 1980s and early-1990s. 

 

[4] An amusing phrase taken from a song entitled 'The Suit' found on the album Metal Box (Virgin Records 1979), by Public Image Ltd. Click here.

 

 

For further memories of the summer of 1984, please click here and/or here.  

 

My Brush with Scientology

Results of the Standard Oxford Capacity Analysis [1]

which I completed on 9 November 1984

 

 

Watching an episode of Peep Show in which Jez and Super Hans join a religious cult [2], reminded me that I was once persuaded to take a free personality test administered by the Church of Scientology ...

Friday 9 November 1984 [3]

 

Assured that it wouldn't take more than twenty minutes to complete and that I'd have the results within the hour - and as it's always amusing to discover how others see one - I agreed. Of the 200 multiple choice questions, I answered 198 and left two blank; one that was too stupid to even consider and one concerning my voting habits (as an anarchist, that's not a political process I participate in).  

      Afterwards, I went to Dillons to look for a book on fairy tales by Jack Zipes, recommended to me by Malcolm. On the way back, I stopped to pick up my test and was given a brief explanation of the results (all conveniently plotted on a graph) by a friendly (though somewhat earnest) young woman who said, amongst other things, I was depressed, nervous, overly critical, and irresponsible. 

      All of these things may very well be true, but I begged to differ with her conclusion that I was in need of urgent attention - although everyone at Charisma seemed to think that was probably the case, particularly Jon, who found it all very amusing.     

 

      

Notes

 

[1] The Standard Oxford Capacity Analysis is a long list of questions (each of which can be answered yes, no, or maybe) purporting to be personality test and administered for free by the Church of Scientology as an important part of its global recruitment process. 

      However, it is not a scientifically recognised test and has been criticised by numerous professional bodies. The results of the test are invariably negative, as might be expected.

 

[2] Peep Show, episode six of series five; 'Mark's Women' (dir. Becky Martin, 2008).

      Jez and Hans are busking opposite The New Wellness Centre operated by a mysterious new religious movement (don't call it a cult). Deciding that it will be warmer in the Centre and that it might also be fun to laugh at the freaks, they go inside, only to then sign up as fervent new members. Click here and here for a couple of clips on Youtube.  

 

[3] This is (a slightly revised) entry from The Von Hell Diaries (1980-89). 

      Just to clarify: Dillons was a famous Bloomsbury bookshop (founded by Una Dillon in 1936); Jack Zipes is an American professor of German literature and cultural studies (the book I wanted was Breaking the Magic Spell: Radical Theories of Folk and Fairy Tales (1979); the Malcolm that I mention is Malcolm McLaren; Charisma was a famous independent record label based in Soho; Jon is Jon Crawley, director of Charisma Music Publishing.  

 

I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know About Her: She Sherriff (the First Buffalo Gal)

Pip Gillard - aka She Sherriff (1981)

Photo by Janette Beckman / Getty Images

 

 

I. 

 

This year marks the 40th anniversary of the release of Malcolm McLaren's Buffalo Gals - a track which was as seminal for a generation of duck rockers and hip hoppers as Anarchy in the UK had been for the generation of punk rockers who preceded them.  

 

However, I'd like to speak here of someone who anticipates the era of scratchin' and square dancing and can justifiably lay claim to being the first buffalo gal: Pip Gillard, who some readers may vaguely (perhaps fondly) remember as She Sherriff ...

 

 

II. 

 

By the beginning of 1982, Malcolm was bored to death managing Bow Wow Wow: we might say that he didn't want Candy, but was, rather, nostalgic for mud; i.e. interested in down and dirty characters, rather than those who are so fine they can't be beat; hobos and hillbillies, rather than heroes and hearthrobs ...  

 

For McLaren, the term mud implied more than merely low-life experience or primitive culture. It was a glorious synonym for authenticity, something that he has always striven for in his work; the true look of music and the real sound of fashion. 

 

McLaren now located this authenticity in the folk music and folk dance of peoples around the word - particularly the sounds and rhythms that came out of Africa, a continent which he romanticised like many European artists before him, as a place of magical paganism and noble savagery. 

 

He identified something of the same jungle spirit in rock 'n' roll; at least in the very early days, before Elvis joined the US Army. And, more surprisingly perhaps, he was excited by what he discovered in them thar hills of the Appalachian Mountains, where people still danced barefoot to the sound of a fiddle and swigged moonshine straight from the jug.

 

If only, mused McLaren, he could find a new Skeeter Davis capable of singing country style with a pop sensibility ... And so, step forward Pip Gillard, who would be signed to Charisma Records [1] under the name of She Sherriff and release her first (and last) single on the label in 1982: a cover version of the country classic I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know (About Him).           

 

Unfortunately, McLaren's first attempt to produce a more authentic sound by reinventing "the big-selling but middle-aged country-and-western genre for a young audience" [2], was not a huge success. For despite "a great deal of media interest, promo photos by The Face photographer Janette Beckman and a Charisma-funded video, She Sherriff failed to deliver on the promise" [3].

 

The single didn't chart and She Sherriff was swiftly dropped by Charisma. If not exactly run out of town, then she was also relegated to that dark corner of popular music history reserved for those who don't even become one hit wonders [4].    

 

 

III. 

 

I suppose, looking back, the problem was not only a poor choice of song, but the fact that for all the stylishness of her proto-buffalo gal image and the mud applied to her limbs, Pip Gillard just didn't convince or really look the part; she was just too fresh-faced - or too pale-faced, if you like. 

 

And posing her with a rocking horse on the record sleeve - was that your idea Nick? - served only to reinforce the idea that this pretty young thing with a red ribbon in her hair would never be able to wrestle a steer, or ride a bucking bronco.     

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Tony Stratton-Smith's small independent record label, Charisma, was founded in 1969 and became home to Genesis and other prog-rock favourites. In 1981, the managing director, Steve Weltman, newly arrived from RCA, was keen to shake things up and so signed McLaren to make his own album (for which he was given an initial advance of £45,000) and advise on new acts and musical trends in an unofficial capacity.

  

[2] Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren, (Constable, 2020), p. 503. 

 

[3] Ibid.

 

[4] Note that Pip Gillard did release another single - 'Why Can't You Love Me?' - under her own name, in 1984 on +1 Records. She has also released a track in Japan, as Pippa Gee, called 'Every Time You Touch Me' (Sony, 1983): click here. The Japanese version of this song - 'Suteki My Boy' - was used in a drink commercial.  

 

Play: She Sherriff, 'I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know About Him', (Charisma Records, 1982): click here. 

Play: Skeeter Davis, performing 'I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know' on the Pet Milk Grand Ole Opry Show in 1961: click here. This song, written by Cecil Null, had been a number 1 country hit for Skeeter and Betty Jack Davis (known as the Davis Sisters) in 1953.

For a related post to this one on Buffalo Gals, click here. 

 

And, finally, for a post in which I discuss another track from McLaren's Duck Rock album - 'Double Dutch' - from the inside perspective of someone who worked in the press office at Charisma Records at the time, click here. 

 

Double Dutch

Malcolm on set whilst filming the video for 'Double Dutch' and me 
receiving a silver disc to mark sales in the UK of more than 250,000 copies

One of the (many) joys of Martin Scorsese's The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) is an extensive soundtrack that affords one the opportunity to hear Malcolm McLaren's still remarkably fresh sounding single 'Double Dutch', taken from his debut album, Duck Rock, and released in the summer of '83 when, all over the world, high school girls were taking to the ropes ...
 
I don't know why Scorsese (in collaboration with music supervisor Randall Poster and executive music producer Robbie Robertson) selected this song, but it presumably has some significance to him as it's one of only 16 - out of 60 used in the movie - to feature on The Wolf of Wall Street: Music from the Motion Picture (Virgin Records, 2014).    

For me, it's a track that has a very special resonance and brings back happy memories of a time when I was working at Charisma Records as an assistant in the press office, alongside the very lovely Lee Ellen Newman, and as a sort of intermediary between the label and McLaren's office on Tin Pan Alley, managed by the indomitable Carrolle Payne.

I recall, for example, meeting those dark and lovely skippers from New York who featured in the video for McLaren's single and who are name-checked in the lyrics to the song (Hey Ebo! Ebonettes); I remember also riding around Town in a limo with the Rock Steady Crew who had come to teach Londoners how to breakdance and elevate graffiti into an urban art form (but that - as they say - is another story ...). 

Although there were other songs on Duck Rock I liked more than 'Double Dutch', the latter - co-written and produced by Trevor Horn - was undoubtedly the catchiest and, in reaching the UK chart position of number 3, also McLaren's biggest hit (though - surprisingly - not so in the US).

Whilst primarily about the sport of competitive rope jumping, 'Double Dutch' is also an excellent example - arguably - of McLaren's willingness to cheerfully engage in cultural appropriation and the racial fetishisation of young black girls in order to further his own commercial and artistic ends ... 

Play: Malcolm McLaren, 'Double Dutch', the third single release from Duck Rock (Charisma Records, 1983): click here. Note: this is the 12" version of the song.

In Memory of Jock Scot

Jock Scot (Photo credit: Times Newspapers, 2014)

Once upon a time in a Soho that has now almost vanished, there was a small record company called Charisma. It was home to a few old hippies, such as Genesis, and to a peculiar array of highly individual recording artists. 

This queer little label, established by a big fat geezer called Tony Stratton-Smith, not only employed the kind of eccentric characters unlikely to find work elsewhere, but, nestled away above the Marquee Club, it provided a kind of meeting place for all manner of misfits and troublemakers to hang about; including the punk, poet, and bon vivant Jock Scot who, sadly, died a few days ago, aged 63.

Although our paths crossed only very briefly in the mid-1980s and, unfortunately, I have no great anecdotes to share, I always remembered Jock with a pinch of fondness and so was genuinely sorry to hear of his passing. 

Soon, they'll be no one left alive ... 

An Interview with Malcolm McLaren (August 1984)

After recently going through a box of treasures from the past, I came across the above photo of myself with Malcolm McLaren and a copy of a taped interview recorded in the offices of Charisma Records, above the Marquee Club at 90 Wardour Street, back in the summer of '84. 

Malcolm was signed to Charisma at this time and I acting as an assistant to his very lovely Press Officer, Lee Ellen Newman, whilst (unsuccessfully) chasing a job as a presenter on a new cable and satellite TV channel. McLaren's new album, Fans, which fused opera with contemporary urban sounds was due for release in the autumn. 

As a means of marking the fifth anniversary of his death which passed earlier this month (April 8), I thought it might be nice to post an edited transcript of this short conversation with my mentor from over thirty years ago:

J: It's been a while since we've heard from you on record, but I'm pleased to know you have a new single out at the end of the month called Madame Butterfly. Would you like to say something about this song and the ideas behind it?

M: [Laughs] Oh dear! So what d'you wanna know then?

J: Just tell me anything about the single; or tell me a bit about opera ...

M: It's marvellous, opera. Because opera is about the most irrational art form ever in the sense that it gets to your emotions better than anything else. It combines drama with music - and it's live. It's one of the most difficult things to actually record. But it wasn't that which intrigued me, so much as the actual drama created with the music in someone's voice and I chose certain stories that were obvious classics, like Madame Butterfly, because they seemed to lend a certain emotion to people now that you could construct as something very sincere and without any cynicism.

J: I'm sure Madame Butterfly is a moving story, but it all sounds a long way away from the Sex Pistols. Do you think that you've changed personally over the years - mellowed ...?

M: I don't think it's mellow. I think that what is great about opera and the story of Butterfly in particular is that it's so poignant; it's the absolute opposite to anything that's bland. Most emotions are packaged today in pop music and they don't have that kind of irrational element. That's what's so great about opera; you don't know why you're feeling what you're feeling, but it makes you cry and it makes your heart thump!
      That, combined with something black and tough and real rootsy - something I suppose that you could say is still happening in New York - is why the record is so great. It's the combination of those two forces; something tough and rootsy with something that's melodic and very majestic and full of emotion.
      When you listen in the discotheques today all you hear are lyrics that have very little meaning other than to get up and dance, or make love and have sex without any particular slant, or any real purpose. This record demonstrates that all that is, I suppose, very happy and schlocky. What's good about this record is that it doesn't have anything that schlocky in it.

J: In the past you've made some memorable videos, such as the ones for Buffalo Gals and Soweto, which are very fast and breathless. Is that how you think a good pop video should be and is that how the video for Madame Butterfly is going to be?

M: No, the video for Madame Butterfly is actually gonna be very cinematic and has no mimed playback whatsoever. I wanted to create a moment and an expression that would enhance the record and allow you to listen, rather than be bamboozled by a variety of images. I think the content is in the record and the content's in the vocals mainly. The vocals are what you want to listen to and you don't want to be completely disillusioned by seeing my face on screen and burst out laughing, so I've just opened it up to a lot of girls sitting about in a Turkish bath, waiting, and crying their eyes out.

J: Do you welcome the emergence of music TV which obviously relies on videos as much as records?

M: I don't know, I suppose it's a good thing in a way - but only if it actually has a different policy from Top of the Pops and some of the other more format programmes that exist on ordinary television. Cable is great only because perhaps it can be less censorial and allow a bit more experimentation. Also, it provides an opportunity to people who don't necessarily warrant being categorised as musicians or filmmakers. The great thing about video is that it's a technology that most people - who may be brilliant sellers of raspberries or great horse riders - can go off and use and I think cable TV may accept that more readily than the record industry or the national TV stations.
      I think what's happening today is that we're creating a very new way that people receive music and culture generally. The future really lies in technology being given to people that normally would not be able to make a record, play an instrument, or shoot a movie and that's the most exciting thing.

J: You mention the future: what else have you got lined up?

M: I'm just finishing off my commitments [laughs]. I made this record only because I was tired of making another straight ahead rock 'n' roll record. I don't think I've done too much of that, but I decided to venture into something that was, for me, badly needed; something more dramatic and emotional, more personal. The sort of record I've never made. I've either made very politically-orientated, sloganistic records - such as when I managed the Sex Pistols - or, thereafter, I started to get involved as a mercenary manager managing various pop groups and creating good antics and good visual ideas, but, at the end of the day, the delivery wasn't as profound as it should have been.
      When I finally made a record on my own, Duck Rock, that was really very much to do with ethnic music and the discovery of dance and looking at the world with the eye of rhythm. This time, I haven't thought about rhythm at all and have gone for what I would just declare emotion - it's purely emotional music.    

J: Finally Malcolm, why do you think I would make a perfect presenter on the Music Box?

M: [Laughs] Maybe because you're more daft than I think you are [laughs].