Dispossessed and deprived, I identified with the search for truth and the redefinition of soul that the group appeared to strive for. I believed in the ‘new soul vision’; I needed it. The lyrics spoke of a battle between the mind and the spirit, of punishing the body until you believed in the soul. I knew about that and I believed in purity and honesty, and in passion and desire. Rowland sang about winners and losers, of believing in someone, of changing as a person. I assumed he was an individual who had lived a life not unlike my own.

Embellished by belting horn riffs, stabbing fiddles, gang chants and tense vocal melodies, the songs reflected the Dexys’ dichotomy of the inspirational and the melancholy. The songs were not overtly political or obtuse; they were simply about feelings and everyday working class experience. This social element became manifest in the images, which were not gaudy fashion but reflective of the street attitude and aspirational intent. And the singer was not an idol; he was arrogant and flawed; he was aggressive and contradictory; he was a poorly educated and enigmatic eccentric who represented an unpretentious capacity for pure feeling. It is no wonder I believed so fiercly.