Just to set the record straight, this was semi-recorded whilst Vivian was deeply depressed , mind-numbingly drugged, and to be blunt - pissed as a newt. At one point he was so ill, he was hospitalized and whilst hospitalized, the record company (in the person of another nameless sod), under the hopeful impression that this time Mr. Standstill was about to snuff it for definite, removed the unfinished tapes from the Searchlight*, cobbled them together (sort of) - and released them. They were quite sure he would be quite dead by the time it came out. Because of this, the material was never edited or worked on or sorted out or thrown out or redone - in short, it was one more rather lamentable episode in his rather interesting recording career. Neither he nor I have ever listened to it. I could not bear it and neither could he.
On the other hand, knowing Vivian... even in his cups and as cranky as hell, he could still be wonderful. Maybe I really ought to have a listen?
*And where was I? I was way up north in Sunderland near Newcastle on the good ship Thekla preparing to sail it to Bristol... where Vivian soon joined me for a mad shippy adventure that will someday make some sort of sense. I think. Maybe. Does it have to?