If you have ever wondered what it would be like to be at the birth of one of rock n roll's bastard offspring then this book is for you.
Martin St John was Primal Scream's leather gloved flailing skeleton, bashing away on the tambourine in the 1960s obsessive, garage psyche , mid-eighties period.
He was there, bang central , in the middle of the psychedelic maelstom-in the days before Screamadelica, in the days before Top Of The Pops, in the days before Glastonbury - and he has a story to tell. If you think you know Primal Scream, think again.
The Psychedelic Confessions Of A Primal Screamer will introduce you to six Glaswegian garage heads hell bent on acid, hard kicks and psychedelia. And there's more again....