Ok ... a veritable bounty of brown cardboard boxes was awaiting me as I traipsed the rain sodden path to my front door this evening. But none more exciting than the little square box holding 8 digipacked morsels encapsulating my angst-ridden teenage years ... My Smiths Complete box set has arrived!
How can I put into words how this 80s band, fronted by the gladioli grasping, paisley wearing, charismatic lead singer Morrissey, the man Henry Rollins loves to denegrate, arguably one of Britain's most creative guitarists in Johnny Marr, substance loving and sadly overlooked bass player Andy Rourke, and litiginous drummer Mike Joyce, sustained me through some of the lowest points in my growing up with their songs of alienation and victimisation.
I scrawled their lyrics over plain white T-shirts, exercise books, fullscap pads, school files and tried emulating Morrissey's syntax and metrical line in some of the most god awful poetry ever committed to paper. Yes I was and am a little obsessed!
And now I get to relive and reclaim those painful years and celebrate them in the relatively safe comfort of my adult living room ... maybe just maybe we might be able to exorcise that awkward, spotty teenager once and for all!