4 SCOTLAND’S ALEX HARVEY

HE died in 1982. No matter how much time passes, his friends and colleagues are incredibly affectionate and protective of the man and his memory. Some people will be disappointed at how little there is about him in this book – but that’s the way his loved ones wanted it, and I for one understand their position.

I often ask myself if I would have liked him, and to be honest I still don’t know. No one tells you much about him in a way that lets you near him. It’s obvious they all love him but they can’t begin to tell you why. You wouldn’t understand, I think that’s their position – you wouldn’t understand because it’s such a personal experience.

I once said: ‘Go into any pub in Glasgow, go up to a stranger and ask him to tell you a story about Alex – and he will’. John Neil Munro tried it out and it didn’t work; times are changing. But Alex influenced everyone who met him or heard his music. ‘Sensational’ was an excellent choice of adjective. The people all over the world who got him are a certain special breed. You never forget, and I think everyone allowed the opportunity to experience Alex nowadays won’t forget either.

If you ask me, it would be appropriate for Scotland – and particularly Glasgow – to do a better job of remembering the man. Does he deserve a statue any less than Donald Dewar? Should someone open a Sensational Alex Harvey Bar? Can we all wear stripey shirts on Alex Harvey Day? The situation is worth considering.

This year the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography recognises Alex’s contribution to culture by including him between their covers; and Classic Rock magazine has placed him in the top 20 frontmen of all time. Next year his band take their final bows as a permanent musical force. The year after that? I hope something Alex-related will happen.

But when we remember him, I think it’s equally important to remember Zal, Chris, Hugh and Ted. No one else ever managed to get the best out of Alex. Without them he’d have been a small part of the pop revolution, another one of many who didn’t get the breaks. ‘I remember this riveter, used to drink here, Alex was his name; ye should have seen him at the karaoke – he wuz sum’thin’ else…’

Acts like the Bay City Rollers, Travis and Texas are highly regarded, and rightly so, for delivering top entertainment. But to a great extent they’re functions of their chronology - Travis would be nobodies in the 70s and the Rollers would have stopped dead in the 80s. SAHB was so good it’s timeless. You can’t lock much of it down, and to the inexperienced ear it’s difficult to say when those recordings were made.

That’s what makes the band special. They’re still valid today. They’re still now. It’s annoying to the point of painful to speculate on what would have happened had SAHB got back together with Alex. He’d be approaching 70 now, they’re in their 50s… but if SAHB with Alex today were even two percent better than they are without him, fucking hell would they rock the arse off the planet.

So the time’s come to draw the line in the sand; it’ll be over soon. Buy the albums, see the shows, tell the world; because we’ll never see the like again.