Take 1
When Pete Shelley died at the age of only 63, I realised for the first time how short and fragile life is. It was a month after the death of my father, and at the age of 50 I should of course have realised it before. Only I didn’t. Sure, I thought about death on occasion, and some people definitely die too young, either voluntarily or because of nature’s tragic sense of humour, but I treated it as incidents, not as something to observe more closely. When Pete Shelley died at the age of only 63, part of me died with him, the part that lives in abundance, in opportunity, in a reality that is based on the possibilities of tomorrow.

Take 2
When Pete Shelley died at the age of only 63, I started this piece of writing. It was 2020. It has been a draft I barely touchedfor almost 6 years. I did nothing with it. When Pete died the only sensible thing I could think of to see all sorts of bands and artists that would probably retire soon, or die. I saw Simple Minds, Joe Jackson, Roger Waters, Gang of Four, and many others. But Pete Shelley was still dead, and a piece of analogue history died with him. No matter how fervently I wanted the old days to come back, they would not, could not. I kept thinking of him as a beautiful boy who didn’t classify men, women, hetero-, homo-, bi- or pansexuals, who only saw beautiful people, a socio-political quality that no one remembers todays, or cares for, too subtle and almost revolutionary

Take 3
There is no future anymore. We moved back in time and are back at the days of Punk. All technological progress of the last 50 years only resulted in mental regression. There is no future, but at my age the future is  relatively short anyway. As a mantra “life’s what’s happening to you while you’re busy making other plans” doesn’t really exist for me anymore. Pete Shelley would have written a bittersweet lovesong about it, and still retain a sliver of hope. In a way I feel like living in one of his imaginary songs.

Take 4 – Ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t’ve?
The “shouldn’t’ve” always did it for me, so poetic, so unusual for a pop song. So was his craft, perfectly perfect pop songs, love songs often, in all its possible flavours; love, true love, longing, pain, break-up, desire, jealousy… He died early enough, today’s reality wouldn’t suit him. His world existed outside of labels, and today’s reality is all about labels and labeling. This world would never be his world, could never be his world.