It really is a quite genuine tragedy that something as horribly sad as Johnson’s diagnosis needed to happen for him to garner some wider recognition in the pantheon of British guitar players, he is genuinely unique. He decided he’d rather do without treatment, if it meant a few more months of well-being he travelled to his beloved Japan several times, delivered an actual ‘farewell’ tour, and vowed to record another album in the time he had left. His diagnosis attracted quite a bit of media attention, not least because of his quite incredible attitude towards it he gave a host of interviews in which he discussed his new-found appreciation for the simple things in life, and the stoic manner in which he chose to face the disease. Remarkably, though, Wilko’s still with us. When Wilko Johnson was diagnosed with terminal cancer of the pancreas in late 2012, he was presented with a stark choice forgo chemotherapy and live for another nine months, or undergo it and perhaps stretch out survival to a year. I’m not entirely sure, by rights, if I should even be listening to this album.
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