Press Release

Preface
by Ronald Sidewinder MBE
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Anyone who has been aware of the Pop Industry over the last 3 decades will have come across Vansen Jonsen. Every year he seems to turn up on our screens and in our magazines, propounding this theory or that change in the 'scene' or advocating we listen to such and such a Rock Group. He has championed causes the whole World round, made huge mistakes as publicly as humanly possible and during all the melee, has proven to be affability itself, to be charm personified, decency incarnate. I have never once doubted he was acting in the public good, regardless of how unpopular it made him. In short, though the man is 10 years my junior, he has become something of a hero to me, and I admire his drive, his resilience, his bravery and his sensibilities, among a myriad, manifold, miasmic barrage of other positive qualities. He has been the instigator of so many initiatives over the years, that I genuinely believe he has truly shaped for the better the psyche of these islands, the United Kingdom of Great Britain, and for that matter, the entire globe.
As one usually finds with Jonsen, everyone has a unique tale of their own encounter with him. For some it is the first time they met, with others it is an extreme night out, and still with others it is a touching moment where he stepped in at the right time and offered the right helping hand to get the person back on their feet or on a tangent that would develop the panorama of their life. I am no different. My story falls into the first category, the initial encounter.
I first came across Jonsen in 1975, when my Son, Albert, was fresh out of Eton and was prevaricating between going to Cambridge to read Linguistics or joining a pop group to raise hell. As an anxious parent wanting the best for my child, I was scared by all the rumour that was being reported in the papers about the wanton nature of poular music. It seemed to me the furthest thing away from what he should be doing. At the time I was editing books for the conglomerate Arbitrary Domicile, working my way up the career ladder and toeing the company line to get ahead. I had recently commissioned my first book. This book, pushed in front of my nose by the late Lord Frederick Lavender, who was then my boss and who was a self-appointed Defender of the Monarchy, happened to be the once vaunted and now notorious 'Protecting our Beautiful Children' written by ex-Beatnik Cedric Mullen. As I am sure you know, this book was not much short of being a Nazi tract espousing discipline, separation of the earth's races, temperance and the church. Lord Freddie seemed to believe that were we to publish it, we would stand a fair chance of bullying it into the school curriculum via a network of high ranking of civil servants with whome he had attended Harrow, and which would simultaneously counter the propaganda eminating from debauched liberal circles and also make Abitrary Domicile a whole heap of cash.
I was very much in thrall with Lord Feddie at the time, though I must confess I never really liked him. I foresaw my own rise through the ranks of the company fastened firmly to his coat-tails. He was the voice of authority, and I wasn't wise enough nor strong to fight against it.
I was due to publish the book on the Friday, and the appropriate press releases had been released to the press. I was invited onto the chatshow, Doris Fairbank Talks Big Time, (which we nicknamed Dottie F's Bigwig Chinwags) to explain the virtues of the book, why we had published it, and why every parent in the nation should buy it, read it, and petition the local government to teach it in their classrooms.
Also on the couch that night, to rebuff my argument, was Vansen Jonsen. He was a last minute replacement for the Correspondent for Education from Marxism Now, who's name escapes me, but who you would know as the current Conservative Shadow Home Secretary. I was pretty sure my evening's work would be a light one, as I felt confident I could run rings around this drug-crazed pop entrepreneur who turned up late with a five o'clock shadow and a wife who seemed somewhat amorous.
But my work was far from being light. Jonsen was on fire. It turns out he had just got back together with Sherry after almost a year apart (I didn't know at the time that this was a pattern of their lives together) and was bursting with energy, ideas and a belief that everything in the world could be put right if people just wished it so. He took me to the cleaners, first about the book, then about my sons wish to join a rock and roll band. And finally, when he had won the argument hands down and had thoroughly made mincemeat of anything I tried to bring to the debate, he persuaded me that working for a huge corporation was holding me back and that I should leave the studio, hand in my notice to Lord Freddie that very night and start up a publishing firm of my own that he assured me would eventually make me a millionaire. All this without ever raising his voice or making me look silly. As I said, the man is affability itself. In the Green Room afterward, he took me to one side and made sure I wasn't hurt by his argument, and offered to help find me sure-fire authors that would be both interesting to publish and lucrative enough to make a living. He said I could start with Sherry's novel, Canal, which she had written while the pair of them were apart. Jonsen enthused of its unblinking look at childhood, and once again, bowled me over with his strength of personality. 'Canal' was indeed the first book I published under my own new imprint, Full Court Press, and it sold respectfully. He also suggested that Albert – who was with me at the time - should spend his downtime in the Rock Group – apparently Rock Groups have a lot of downtime - preparing a thesis about the connection between Music and Lingistics, the musicality of words and the lyricism of music. He offered to sponsor the paper, which Albert duly wrote and which earned him a Doctorate at the Guild Hall. Curiously, Jonsen turned down the chance to sign Albert's band, the Siamese Kitten, claiming they were derivative, after which Albert's heart was never in Rock Music any more.
So there are a million things I need to thank Jonsen for, and hopefully when this book hits the bestsellers list, I'll have yet another. The Editor, Lonely Joe MacCracken, is a solid, plausible scribe who has shown he can write in a plethora of mediums: music and prose being the two most prominent. He understands the Pop Industry better than most and he understand Jonsen even more. The two of them have been linked at various times by various projects, and during the times when their professional lives have not crossed, they have been good family friends. You will be safe in his hands as he hacks his way through the truth and the myths of Jonsen's career and brings out the nitty-gritty of the man's life. He has chosen to base the telling of the story on the masses of press releases or similar published documents that Jonsen has produced or inspired in his time, supplemented by his MacCracken's commentary to help bring Jonsen's character to light. I persuaded Jonsen to chip in, too: the short piece about Lonely Joe's career is a masterpiece of storytelling, and though I am not quite sure I trust Jonsen's version of MacCracken's life, it is rather too entertaining to leave out.
I hope you enjoy this book: I am sure you will. If you don't, I personally will worry about it. I have a nagging feeling somewhere in my bones that I commisioned this book for myself, to honour a great man and a close personal friend, to ensure that when the history books are written, the name of Vansen Jonsen is in there, ready with a smile.

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