I was in a newsagent in Chippenham and 16 years old. Too young for a car, waiting for the bus home. My green walkman had Herbie Hancock’s “Headhunters” blasting into my A-Level tired ears. It was early on in my world of jazz appreciation. There was the acid jazz movement that was my way in, a few kids at school were into it too, but I still was nervous to talk about Monk or Miles, Coltrane or Sun Ra. Not quite confident enough in my awkward teen self to proclaim my love of jazz.
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