Two good things about rock music: how it makes even cynics get emotionally involved when they least expect it; how the best moments are the ones when something takes you off guard. When punk started, people were slumped over the table at our place, full of booze, arguing all night about what punk MEANT. Some of us had been out and seen it, some of us hadn't, but everybody had a violent opinion (the trouble with British critics is that they are self-conscious. It's not enough to like or dislike, you have to know what it all stands for. After all, why did thousands of kids want to jump on each other's heads?). When Elvis Costello started I couldn't understand the fuss. Simon Frith and I would phone each other after a gig: "Does it make any sense?" No.