Zonk. This column is going to be about how things look in and from England. More to the point it’s going to be about how things look to me, because although life is pretty shitty, what with Ireland and no jobs and the endless hum of B-52’s, I feel fine. In fact I’m having more fun than at any time since Creedence’s Green River album. This week there’s Tumblin' Dice and I’ve stopped hating the Stones (I’m glad that’s over). And Starman, David Bowie’s new record and my first afterthree-bars-rush-out-and-buy single since Marvin Gaye’s Grapevine. And the Grin album hasn’t left my turntable yet. And I saw Mott the Hoople. And ... yeah.

It’s been a long time since I spent more time listening to music than talking about it, more time dancing than thinking. It’s been a long time since the British rock scene has been so busy, so buzzy, and without a doubt the^ sticky fingers that have been stirring things up belong to Marc Bolan. You may not appreciate T. Rex but over here they’re inescapable.