Will Sergeant is a few years older than me and he played guitar in Echo and the Bunnymen, one of the bands that formed the sonic accompaniment as I sat in my teenage bedroom, drowning myself in teenage angst, ambitions and anxieties. At that age, music has a greater impact than at any other stage in life and the Bunnymen were one of the key influences in what I became. What’s more, I went to a lot of gigs when I was young and among those were some key Bunnymen concerts, including their legendary show at the Royal Albert Hall in 1984. So when I saw that Will Sergeant, of the fringe and the scowl and the jagged guitar, had written a memoir of his life as a Bunnyman, I wanted to read it – particularly as Sergeant wasn’t himself a particular hero. I would fight shy of reading the autobiography of my real musical heroes for fear that they would reveal the boots of clay, and the personal failings, that underlay their music. But Sergeant wasn’t Mac: he was the guy standing beside him on stage. It would be safe to read his memoir.

And indeed it was. This was an entertaining foray down shared experiences of growing up in the sixties and seventies: the bombed-out sites left over from World War II, the grey estates, the poor food, the general lack of supervision, the sudden crazes, from clackers to chopper bikes, and the appalling treatment by teachers in schools. It brought it all back.

Then Sergeant met the rest of the Bunnymen – well, apart from drummer Pete de Freitas, whose job was originally taken by a drum machine. It’s notable how things fell into place for the Bunnymen, who benefited from being in the right place at the right time, as well as interesting gossip on how the other Liverpool bands of the late 70s and early 80s, particularly how Julian Cope formed Teardrop Explodes.

There’s remarkably little rock ‘n’ roll excess – some desultory drug taking but really what comes through most strongly is how set on being cool Sergeant and the Bunnymen were – and how they succeeded.

It’s an enjoyable story that’s competently written, rather like listening to Sergeant reminisce at the pub.