"...not the best name for a band but a pretty good single nonetheless"
4 guys from the West of Scotland had a dream; to be mentioned sarcastically by John Peel after he had played their first single on his radio show. And it happened.
Before that they'd had another dream. But we don't need to go into that.
It was the early 80s. A good time to be young if you wanted to be at the vanguard of the cultural revolution that was music in Britain. A bad time if you were socially disadvantaged. Many were but the Plastic Flies couldn't really make that claim. They were lucky. Martin, the singer, was working in a plastics factory as he made his way through design college, Morris and Paul, the Sly & Robbie of the post-punk backline, were about to start University and Spike (let's call him Mike) was the pup of the band - a tyro on the guitar with visions of Mick Jones in his head. What they lacked in technique they made up for in enthusiasm and energy.
It was 1980. Year Zero plus three. Bring it on.
Know I watched. Rocked. Smoked. A tearful groupie you thought you did not love. If only in my eyes. Time never stops in my head. I am there with you dreaming...
