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Whatever the likes of Rocky would have you believe, no one loves a winner. It’s the tales of grand ambitions gone massively, hilariously to shit that have us rooting for the poor sucker telling them.

Andrew Matheson formed proto-punks The Hollywood Brats in London in 1971, armed with a rock’n’roll manifesto The Clash must’ve been eyeing up, an eye-popping wardrobe, unlimited youthful arrogance and a genuinely exciting vision.

What follows is a whirlwind of terrible decisions, squalor, violent crowds, an indifferent music industry, itchy nether infections and plenty of bickering. And it’s brilliant.

It helps that Matheson is a first-class storyteller, bringing the rock scene of the day gruesomely to life and gleefully recounting his own callow youth with a mixture of disdain and admiration. Someone needs to make a film of this immediately./o:p

Emma has been writing about music for 25 years, and is a regular contributor to Classic Rock, Metal Hammer, Prog and Louder. During that time her words have also appeared in publications including Kerrang!, Melody Maker, Select, The Blues Magazine and many more. She is also a professional pedant and grammar nerd and has worked as a copy editor on everything from film titles through to high-end property magazines. In her spare time, when not at gigs, you’ll find her at her local stables hanging out with a bunch of extremely characterful horses.