I heard my first track from 'Scott' in 1967 when I was 17. He sang on 'The Billy Cotton Band Show', a bizarre choice for the LP's premiere; NME at the time thought so too, describing variety programme'Band Show' as having a "luvverly bunch of coconuts" atmosphere to it and here was Scott Walker singing 'My Death'. Over 40 years ago and I still remember it vividly. I sat alone in the family home,a Lancashire terrace, lights off (we did that in those days, don't ask me why) as I watched the telly. Scott looked almost ready to run for his life. He was always a nervous performer and his hands shook very visibly. At the time I his horror of public exposure wasn't so well-known so I thought then that the shaking hands were due to the overwhelming emotion of singing that song. Maybe it was that too. Certainly it overwhelmed me, the G-forces of hearing something so astonishing ("My death is like a swinging door, a patient girl who knows the score...") pinned me back in my chair. NO-ONE sang about such 'grown-up' subjects in those days. It hit me like a wrecking-ball; I'd been expecting a Walker Bros-style big ballad and got beaten up and bruised by this. When it finished, I just sat there for hours. I couldn't get it out of my head for weeks. Scott Walker has had a continuous effect on my whole life ever since that night. I won't review any other tracks from 'Scott' here. I'll just say some ('Mathilde') are almost as astonishing as 'My Death', some are the quality ballads I got used to before that May night in 1967, some are so-so. For me, 'My Death' will always be synonymous with the'Scott' album. Listen here to the master singer of the 20th Century, a man with a technically near-perfect baritone but, at the same time, with the interpretative skill of Sinatra himself. No other singer I've ever heard comes anywhere near close to Scott Walker in combining BOTH technique and emotional richness within the living body of a single human being. I've never been sure that I like being so totally absorbed by any one subject or person, recognising it as obsessive, maybe even unhealthy, but there it is. I was taken prisoner by Scott Walker in May 1967 and I've never escaped since, never will until MY death.