You had to be there, in a sense. In the cities, in the clubs, in the early ’70s — the masonic allure of the band was of its time. “It was an image” writes Bracewell, “that was all the more potent for being so undefined — itself a montage, in which one might detect strands of Pop art or strands of revivalism, but never from a named source, only as a name itself, at once adjective and noun, ‘Roxy.’ ” A noun and an adjective, eh? Very well. Had I been there, I would have proposed a slogan: if you can’t be real, be Roxy.
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