In the 90s, just as it had in the 80s, my music taste exploded. Only this time I was very consciously rejecting dull chart matter, and embracing the cult of the alternative. This is when people started telling me I listened to some weird shit. Knowing that while I wasn’t really, I was clearly onto something. It’s also the time I started spending my own money to build up my musical collection, so I have no-one else to blame. (Except certain NME and Melody Maker writers, that is, at least one of whom owes me three quid for a Bivouac EP that turned out not to be as revelatory as described.) Bygones…bygones…