i was born on the goldhawk road, so it follows that i spent much of the 1980s making experimental recordings on the streets of north london in the early hours of the morning. shunning traditional tonality and instruments in favour of found objects, i was was tutored in atonal music by an erratic welshman i had encountered whilst lobotomized drunk in public houses of the east end. i made ends meet by writing teen slasher fiction and h.p.lovecraft pastiches until mary whitehouse obtained a gagging order. i went on an expedition by mistake, finding myself in a central american boot-camp run by a disgruntled ex-marine from yorkshire. i also tried my hand at alchemy, and spent a season in a government brainwashing factory near wales for allegedly swindling snake oil out of a notorious charlatan. when my indictment was overturned for non-payment, I went on the trail of the last surviving william burroughs croaker (rumoured to possess the recipe for longevity serums). along the way i took a casual job with the legendary quack doctor ronaldo silvestre in a suburb of mexico city, performing cut-rate facelifts in subway toilets. this arrangement was not entirely successful. in recent years i have returned to making experimental recordings in the early hours of the morning.
