Winzer the Ozone zone : * The Sound disintegrates from deep within your hemispheres… leaving you here & now *

1976 was one of those years. Laughter, friendship and a Mother of a summer seeped through the pores and people were happy, The Colour Grey was put into suspended inanimation. Early in the year my brain was being liquidised in a tiny dungeon of an outhouse in Stoneleigh Street. A friend - Steffy - had asked me over to a band rehearsal. To put into words what I heard that night is like trying to explain the Colour Orange to a blind man.

That was my intro to Here & Now and as far as I was concerned, if their sound didn't knock you into the middle of the next galaxy you were dead. I played a few sets with them over the summer and added absolutely nothing.

These people were atom-splittingly good. Kif 'Just call me God' Kif battered his kit into submission, with the skins tuned so low the sound reached your ears via your feet. Steffy and I would play and jam in our own right, but when he picked up his Orange Jazzmaster and fronted Here & Now it was - and still is - a case of waving goodbye and wishing him a good flight.

I'm close to Steffy; I can tell when he's disappeared and he's on autopilot. It's a sublime level that transcends any cliché ridden description. I've been there with him many times - it's the position of losing all control while controlling everything. A Million thanx, Grasshopper.

And then along came the aptly named Missile. I'd done a couple of stints on bass, vocals, and was as dynamic as Leonard Cohen. Keith the bass, looking like a style Guru, physically flew around pumping notes into empty spaces one second and launching into hyper-drive the next. Twink on synth was like watching … well, Twink on synth. Surrounded by leads, bent double over his box of holes, lead in one hand, soldering iron in the other sending out Moebius strips of noise that was almost levitating.

Here & Now had arrived.