Languishing on the dole on an East Kilbride council estate in the early 80s, neither the Jesus and Mary Chain’s William Reid, nor his younger brother, Jim, could grasp why no one had yet combined 60s girl-group melodies, the nihilist drones of the Velvet Underground and top notes of screeching feedback. It seemed an obvious, genius move to them: violently sandblasting a core of yearning sweetness.
The brothers formed a no-frills band, wearing drainpipe trousers and black leather, accessorised with stormcloud fringes and casual misanthropy with which they baited early audiences. Naturally, the Mary Chain would have a standing drummer (a position that rotated so much – including a stint by Bobby Gillespie – this joint memoir should come with an “other guys” spreadsheet). Clearly, their gigs would be endurance tests. Of course they would find their people, even if they got beaten up along the way.
