The story about Here's true for the most part, so too are the stories of my new book the way I heard it if you'd like an autograph copy, I've set a few aside for fans of the podcast, which you can pick up at micro dot com- slash book. If you don't care about my autograph than go to micro, dotcom, Slash book anyway, to find them. Surprise. The book is available, pretty much anywhere. Books are sold. Barnes and noble. Walmart targets books, a million hasn set of the place. Hudson has them Amazon, of course, but the prices change all the time. So click around at micro dot com to see

who's got what for how much the reviews? Raw pretty much five star, very flattering New York Times calls are the best seller. I think it would make a dandy Christmas present. People still say dandy anymore. I don't know, but your copy awaits at micro dotcom, Slash book. This is the way I heard. Jimmy was a quiet kid from London. He was also a prisoner from it. Those two his armpits, the young lad, was encased in plaster a suffocating body cast and kept him completely immobile. For most of his childhood Jimmy endured the terrible, suffocating quiet, wasting away a little more with every passing day but tuberculosis.

The bones is an unpredictable thing and happily, by the age of thirteen Jimmy had begun to recover slowly. He outgrew his plaster, cocoon and hobbled into the world around him. It was a tough transition to build a strengthen confidence. He took up tap, dancing and found himself drawn to the music, but in the Pre WAR, London of nineteen thirty eight there was no money and dancing. So we tried his head at selling shoes that he worked in a jam factory. Then he worked in a scrap metal yard with no formal education is options were limited at the canned food factory. He cut off a chunk of his thumb

Placing meet there had to be a better way. Jimmy decided to educate himself. He read everything he could and found that aside from music engineering and fabrication made the most sense to his brain. When the war broke out, he found work in a factory manufacturing aircraft. It was important work and he was good at it, but still it was the music they called him and when the drama of a local band was drafted, Jimmy Audition for his spot and then things got a whole lot louder for the quiet kid from London, Jimmy was hired on the spot and the drums became his all consume

passion. They were physical, they were textile and best of all they were noisy, so adept was Jimmy on the skins he started, giving private lessons. Then he opened a school, then he opened a music store and then in nineteen sixty a local guitar player named PETE walked into Jimmy's Or an things got very loud indeed, like Jimmy PETE was frustrated by the limitations of rock RO, the sound was just to clean to constrained peat and his band. They wanted more volume and Jimmy was hired to make it happen. After a few weeks of tinkering, Jimmy had designed a new way to boost the sound. The difference was shocking, but for PETE not quite shocking enough

so Jimmy tinkered, some more and a few weeks after that unveiled his engineering masterpiece to speaker, cabinets stacked on top of each other controlled by an amplifier positioned. Above them, the noise was, unlike anything, London ever heard, dirty and distorted, jarring and discordant, but mostly it was loud and that was music to Jimmy's ears. Pete was blown away and expressed his enthusiasm by smashing his guitar into Jimmy's invention at his next performance. The buzz grew so quickly that musicians came from all over the world to see for themselves. What Jimmy had concocted. Another Jimmy arrived from the states and quickly claimed the Jimmy's new fangled, fair education would make him the most famous guitarist in the world, and he was right thanks to the quiet kid from low.

And once consigned to the suffocating silence of a plaster, prison, Jimi, Hendrix and PETE Townsend were able to turn them. I am all the way up to eleven and a host of other guitar gods would follow in their tracks, Clapton and Back Gilmore and Page Stevie, Raven and too many others to name but For all their ear shredding head banging glorious racket. There was only one Lord of loud, and you can still see Jimmy's name today and centre at every major rock concert around the world, etched in white cursive on the front of every amplifier Marshall, unmistakable upon ass, a towering column of sound, unlike anything, the world has ever heard anyway. That's the way I heard.