In November 1973 – shortly after I’d moved up from deputy to editor – there was a printing strike. In the previous couple of years, NME had been diligently reinventing itself from risible industry lapdog to credible maverick terrier; we were on a roll and it was intensely frustrating to be silenced by those for whose cause we had full sympathy. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that NME had faced the threat of being silenced for good because of tumbling sales.
So, when, finally, we returned after nine weeks out, our frustration was unleashed. Bold and a bit cocky, we were suddenly – dazzlingly – at the top of our game. It’s embodied in the cover. We had been edging towards a full-page image like Rolling Stone, but it was a first among the weeklies, and Pennie Smith’s image of Bryan Ferry picked itself. Naive, of course, but it felt like: this is our magazine now. It later caused me a breakdown trying to keep the train on the rails, but I’m privileged to have been a part of it.
For more read the full of article at The Guradian
