Ididn’t decide to be an entrepreneur, life’s not like that. There are broadly two different ways to go: you can try to do something similar towhat your parents did; something that feels safe, where you can get training and immediate credit for having a career. Or you can be open to adventure and the surprises that comewith it. I was fortunate in thatmy background was an odd one. My parentswere incredibly different. My father’s sidewas blue-collar Dutch, andmother’s very upper-class English, so I had perspectives fromdifferent sides of society thatmade me very open; therewas no allegiance to a class tradition. Mymother was never likely to inherit after themarriage she’d made. Anyhow, being bornwith readymade assets can become amillstone around the neck if you always have to live up to the family’s ideas of success. I never thought in terms of having a career, but of a curiosity that needed to be slaked; so I studied archaeology and anthropology at Durham. It was just another formof adventuring. I’d been intrigued by the puzzle solving involved with archaeology, andwanted to have some understanding of what I was looking at. Life forme has been a series of accidents and this began in the summer of 1976 withmyfirst job as an archaeologist. That exceptionally hot summermeant crop marks showing through the parched soil and the amount of archaeology available to explorewas increased by around 30%. KICKINGPEOPLE Meanwhile, I was skint. I’d been in a rock band at university and amate and I decided our futurewas in London – the streetswould be pavedwith gold – only to discover that on any given night there would be 30,000 bettermusicians playing gigs.Wewent on the dole instead. Itwas onlybyplaying football onClapham Commonwith a scratch showbiz teamon aSunday thatwegot anywhere. I’d kicked a guy really hard. Someone cameup tome and said: “Doyou knowwhoyou’ve just kickedover?” It turnedout tobe thehead soundengineer at AbbeyRoadStudios. Despitemy rough treatment, webecame friends; he let us use the studio for freewhen therewere available slots. Itwas an important lesson in terms of thinking about how it’s possible to create adventureswithout any resources. Youmay not have anymoney, but there are somany unused resources in the world, things like studio time, vehicles sittingon thedrive, people’s time, awhole wealthof potential. If youhave the ability toget onwithpeople anddraweverything together you can createnewwealth. We didn’t get anywhere to beginwith, but we stuck to everythingwe’d agreed. Wemade surewe paidmusicians, the studio andwe had contracts so everythingwas transparent. That way, whenever wewanted to do anything else, peoplemade themselves available; they’dwant to join the newventure. Eventually, we had a record in the early 1980s that sold globally and put some money in the bank. But I’d fallen out of lovewith themusic industry. Everything had to be formulaic, you had to stick to the threeminutes 20 to have a hit; so I decided to give up, even though thatmeant going back to having no particular direction. 48 |
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