In the end it comes down to two rival versions of the English middle afternoon. Post-Barrett, Pink Floyd kept on in a middle-afternoonish vein, but they fell in love with the idea of portentous storm...

I’m an atheist, and I don’t have any belief in an afterlife. You could say that I’m resigned to the fact that this wonderful life that we get here is it. And having hit 60,...

Wish You Were Here So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, Blue skys from pain. Can you tell a green field From a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do...

What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? Oh, poems, no less! Poems, everybody!

I’m full of dust and guitars…

Come on you target for faraway laughter. Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!