So begins The Soft Machine, a William Burroughs novel from 1961. That same year, the posse of Canterbury misfits who'd assume that same name began to interact.

The Simon Langton School has assumed a latent reputation as a place of education for the sons of 'intellectuals'. Robert Wyatt, however, only remembers a dull grammar school with little or no cultural direction. Perhaps then it was only coincidence that something of an avant-grade filtered through its upper forms.

Mike Ratelidge was eighteen and about to read Philosophy at Oxford, but was also known to play jazz-based variations with a saxophonist, Brian Hopper. The afforementioned Robert, two years younger, had meanwhile befriended Brian's brother, Hugh Hopper, in a mutual consuming passion for music. A final piece of the jigsaw, David Sinclair, was a further year behind and, in Robert's words, "played piano at morning assembly." He also recalls that there was little relationship across the forms, "I only met Mike twice, once when he was a prefect. He came up to me and said, 'I believe you have some Cecil Taylor records. Can I borrow one?'"

Since the dawn of the 1980s, Robert Wyatt has picked at the balloon which suggested the Canterbury scene's idyllic genesis. Despite his self-effacing honesty, a powerful image of such comparitive youngsters, embracing the wild jazz of Mingus, Monk and Coleman with the 'Please Please Me' revelation still a year away remains, nonetheless, romantic.

The chronology here gets somewhat sketchy. At some point the stilled Wyatt quit school to study sculpture at the local Art College. Its regime proved as restrictive and he abandoned study for a penniless trip to Spain. At some point, either here or on a
previous visit, he met one George Neidof, who returned to Canterbury with him and stayed with his family, in return for which he taught Robert drums. Neidof also knew Daevid Allen, who's introduction to the circle was crucial.

Allen's exploits are detailed elsewhere in this issue, but his early involvement was not only inspirational, but innovative. In early 1963 both Hugh Hopper and Robert joined him in his London flat. Hopper recalls playing with Michael Horowitz, backing his poem, 'The Dalai Lama Is Coming To Tea', "with our very loose version of Bizet's 'Carmen'."

Hopper and Allen then made plans to travel to Tangier and play at a club called the Fat Black Pussycat. Instead Hugh joined Daevid in Paris, making the tape loop experiments which were later essential to The Soft Machine canon, before returning home with Wyatt and forming The Wilde Flowers.

Here they were joined by the elder Hopper, Brian, Richard Sinclair and Kevin Ayers. Mutual fashion rather than a common education had brought Kevin into the group, who's debut gig was at Whitstable's Bear and Key Hotel. "They try for an Indian
influence," noted the 'Canterbury Gazette', "but their Rolling Stones haircuts make the fans go crazy." The Wilde Flowers set was British R&B, some Beatles and some originals, a flavour of which was caught on a brief 1965 demo. recorded at the unlikely
Wout Steenhuis studio. The groups leafs its way through two covers. Chuck Berry's 'Almost Grown and Mose Allison's reading of 'Parchman Farm', alongside two originals, Hugh Hopper's reflective 'Memories' and Kevin's rumbustuous 'She's Gone'.

In common with their future aggregations, The Wilde Flowers were notoriously unstable. Ayers left, a new guitarist, Graham Flight, appeared and vanished and Richard Sinclair traded rhythm guitar for college. Robert stopped drumming in favour of permanent vocals. Richard Coughlan replaced him at the kit. and one Pye Hastings latterly joined on lead. By 1966 The Wilde Flowers were altogether smoother: they entered competitions both for Melody Maker and Radio Caroline, winning the latter with a heady mix of 'Sunny', 'Papa's Got A Brand New Bag' and 'You Put A Spell On Me'. This line-up, however, crumbled around October 1966 with the departure of Robert Wyatt. (Hugh Hopper quit some five months later, the rest then added David Sinclair and became Caravan.)

Wyatt, Ayers and Daevid Allen had reestablished contact and a frustrated Mike Ratelidge had left university. The new group flirted with several names, another William Burrough's title, Nova Express, was considered, but Soft Machine was finally selected with Alien telephoning the author for permission and a blessing.

Following a disastrous opening at London's Zebra Club. Daevid's connections with the fledgling London Underground; John Hopkins and the Indica gang, provided the Softs with their spot at the party to launch 'International Times' and subsequent residency at the hallowed UFO. On these early dates the group was supplemented by Larry Nolan, an American guitarist who vanished as mysteriously as he appeared, and by Mark Boyle's evocative light show, which formed the perfect counterpoint to a collective increasing it's weirdo quotient. Pete Frame recalls their appearance at The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream in April 1967.

"Robert Wyatt huffing and puffing and singing from his drum stool, Kevin Ayers with rouge on his cheeks and u black cowboy hat surrounded by a huge pair of glider's wings and Daevid Alien with a miner's helmet (light switched on) and a fixed maniac stare."