McClaren dies, age 64

and no matter if you loved or loathed him, he was essential to the progression of not just music but also to the change of mindset of my generation. No longer was it about following parental laid paths but about realising you were important, or unimportant? Whichever way, it was okay to shout loud and just do it. RIP Malcom.

From my book The Poet Busker, 2009:

The problem with poets is profound.

The problem with poets is unfounded

if you find the poets who confound the profundity,

pomposity of flustered philanthropists who bluster

and blither about prosthetic aesthetics

being pilfered by amateurs.


Let the amateurs glimmer

on that rock ‘n’ roll radio ship,

that sits, quietly,

under the overlanded plaudits

of rules.


I smite you and proverbially spit

On you,

In spite of regard, because

McClaren is broke,

God Save The Queens.

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