Are you trying to be clever or something? I don’t have to try, I am clever God, if our parents only knew what actually went on here You know, you’re really beginning to get the idea One learns so much about life in the army

nicknamed me ‘Pink’. When I heard The Wall Tour was coming to LA, I asked my dad if he could get tickets. His friendship with drummer Nick Mason made it easy [ed’s note: Josh’s father was jazz bassist Charlie Haden]. After reading the Pink Floyd article in MOJO 327 it seemed like the role of Nick was one of mediator between acerbic duo Roger and David. That’s also the feeling I get when remembering how Nick, after the show, took my copy of The Wall and carefully wrote “To Joshua” and “Pink Floyd” in big bubble letters, then spent 20 minutes running around backstage, trying to locate Roger, David, and Richard to sign it [opposite page, bottom]. It’s reflective of Nick’s warm personality, the courtesy he gave an 11-year-old boy after a concert that transformed my life in more ways than one, perhaps using this opportunity to bring together his sparring bandmates one more time. That’s what I’d like to think. Either way I’ll never forget it.

Josh Haden, Los Angeles

I was very moved by the gravity John Mulvey accorded The Weather Station’s attempt to make art out of crushing climate grief in his review of

Ignorance [MOJO 328]. The final phrase – “The document of an introvert empowered by the vastest crisis of passion imaginable” – somehow stuck deep, perhaps partly because I didn’t fully understand it. The accompanying image also served to deepen the tribute to what Tamara Lindeman has done with the record. Thank you – and her – for it. Mark Brown, Bristol …Not gushing, but please tell John Mulvey I loved his editorial leader page in MOJO 327 about imagining a world where John Lennon never existed. Just that one sentence about The Beatles was oratory: “Under their influence, rock’n’roll was revealed as both ubiquitous, and profound; a three-minute thrill, and a subject worthy of lifelong obsession.”

I read with interest David Fricke’s piece on the creation of What’s Going On [MOJO 330]. The temptation in writing any article on Marvin Gaye must be to fill it with the seamier aspects of his life and tragic demise, and Fricke remained focused and circumspect throughout. Berry Gordy’s dismissal of the LP as “the worst thing I’ve ever heard” did bring to mind the idea of the poisonous, manipulative Svengali/ artist relationship. In film this is possibly best seen in Powell/Pressburger’s 1948 masterwork The Red Shoes, with nutty impresario Boris Lermontov driving Moira Shearer’s Vicky Page to her doom. Suitably engaged, I turned to that issue’s Theories, Rants, etc. Stone me if all the quotes therein aren’t from the film. Chris Rodden, Norwich

I saw the thing about Edgar Broughton [MOJO 328] and it reminded me of something I have felt an aching guilt about for exactly 41 years. In March 1980 I was in the front row at Edinburgh Odeon for Gillan, and The Broughtons were supporting. They were getting horrific abuse from the crowd and the singer looked like he was about to burst into tears. To my shame, as I walked back to my seat I played to the gallery and gave him the finger from about four feet away. He looked dismayed and upset. I felt terrible immediately and have done so ever since – pathetic little creep I was. At the end he was still so gracious and wished us a good rest of the evening. Edgar, if you read this – I am really sorry. Dave, Twickenham

I want to congratulate you on using Lana Del Rey for your cover star instead of, say, Steve Marriott [MOJO 329]. I firmly believe that if rock music as we love it is to survive, we need to promote new artists more than the classic ones. Lana Del Rey is a fascinating character, even if I find her music a little one-note. But she is undeniably one of the few major success stories in today’s pop music firmament who works in any kind of rock-adjacent idiom. Hopefully your story will encourage older rock fans to check out her music. And maybe other modern artists. Dare I suggest a cover story for, say, Steven Wilson, or Idles? Conor Bendle, via e-mail …Thank you for the fantastic Steve Marriott compilation and fascinating feature by Simon Spence [MOJO 329]. Michael Putland’s scowling photo portrait from 1973 should have been the MOJO cover. In the early ’80s when I was knocking on doors collecting tax for the Inland Revenue, one of our drivers was a handy Cockney geezer called Vic, who used to tell tales about the scrapes he and Steve got up to when they were kids. Vic said he was with Steve when they set fire to their school, but denied that it got burnt down; Steve exaggerated and embellished the tale over the years. A sad life, but what a musical legacy. Bruce Marsh, Newbury Park

Really sad to hear of the demise of Jesus [William ‘Jesus’ Jellett, MOJO 329]. I remember him dancing at many gigs throughout the ’70s. Always by himself, he didn’t seem to care if his dancing was appreciated or mocked. I once saw people throw plastic bottles of piss at him at the Reading Festival, but he just kept on dancing, naked. David Lynch, via e-mail