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Presentations & Associations Catalogue 64 - Photobooks Christmas List Eroticism: Coming and Going Jeremy Reed and Simon Finch reading their work Catalogue 63 Musician & Fabled Book Scout Before discussing his professional attributes, it is important to make clear that Martin, even at his irritating, inconsistent and incoherent worst, has always been the sweetest and most generous-hearted of men. More interestingly, he is a resplendent dandy – the modern mixed with the positively archaic: winkle-pickers and drainpipes, battered felt hats and frock coats waging war with a previous incarnation as a south London mod. Thirdly, and crucially, he is something of a guitar hero. At one point, Melody Maker had him at number eleven in the world, and he was seriously considered for a job with the Rolling Stones. I know that I was like many young men in that I only learned guitar to get laid, and in the 1960’s when Martin started to play it, it worked an absolute dream for him. Finally – and this is the real clincher with the babes – he is an inventive and excellent cook. Martin’s first outfit, the Rockhouse Band, was picked up by Rick Gunnel’s infamous management group, which took care of Georgie Fame amongst others. At seventeen, Martin turned pro and toured extensively, backing artists such as Rufus Thomas and the Inkspots. He later joined Savoy Brown, where his guitar playing attracted much favourable attention. Savoy Brown split over the issue of whether or not to go psychedelic. Stone was firmly in the LSD camp. His next band was Mighty Baby, about which he was interviewed in the underground magazine IT. The article expounded in his interest in Gurdijeff and Sufism. A very serious-minded reader approached Martin and pointed out that he could not genuinely take on such beliefs without becoming a Muslim. Martin lasted two years as a serious Muslim before sex, drugs and rock and roll lured him once more into their fold. The resulting Bongos over Balham by Chilli Will and the Red Hot Peppers is something of a classic. It was only the advent of punk that truncated the trajectory to stardom. Throughout his years on the road, Martin had been an avid reader and trawler through markets and second-hand bookshops. His knowledge – particularly of fantasy books – was phenomenal and extended to the minutiae of variant bindings and obscure issue points. He only started to make use of this knowledge in order to finance an escalating fondness for white marching powder. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he took to his new trade about as naturally as he had done to guitar playing. Thus, the legend and mythology of Martin, Super-Book-Sleuth-and Bibliographic-Genius, was born. It is undoubted that if Martin could have capitalized on every find to which his nose had led him (pun intended), he would now be idly playing slide guitar while the blue sea lapped at his feet and the interest rolled effortlessly in. Instead, an enormous capacity for self-destruction kept him plying his trade – much to the benefit of many of us who have been lucky enough to buy books from him. Such is his alleged value that Peter Howard bought him a new set of teeth (the old ones being rotten from abuse) just so he could keep masticating and therefore working hard. Pronouncements of his genius have been issued in print but I rather like his old friend Nigel Burwood’s analysis: “Martin is very bright and knows a lot of very long words.” A recent piece in the San Francisco Chronicle has Martin sniffing the air quizzically from the passenger seat of a car tearing through the Californian desert. “Turn left, then third right, then take the fourth track on the left.” The bemused driver faithfully follows instructions and, lo and behold, a small shack of a second-hand bookshop. Martin leaps out of the still-moving car, nostrils dilating in a manner they hadn’t done since the Bad-Old-Good-Old-Snowblind days. And, presto! Sure enough, there was an untouched box full of signed Virgina Woolfs. Brilliant he is, as well as blessed with the luck of the brilliant, but no signs yet of stigmata. Such stories make Martin feel a bit bemused and unreal. Various misadventure and mishaps saw Martin fleeing London for Paris, where booze replaced cocaine as the drug of choice. He became a well-known figure at the Hotel Villa Opera Drouot and in every bookshop in Paris. The city and its auction houses were like the Wild West of bookselling in comparison to the more ordered world of Sotheby’s and Christie’s of New York and London. The book mafia ruled and bargains proliferated. Sadly, this has now changed, but for a while it was easy pickings for someone of Martin’s acumen and ability. But, as his recognition as a book scout escalated, so did his drinking, until, in a grey rainy day, whilst helplessly pissed, he was beaten up and robbed by a large man in a motorcycle helmet. Martin had the required bookseller’s wad on him, which, in turn, led his assailant to believe there must have been plenty more where that came from. A knife was held to his throat, accompanied by an offer to use it. Something inside Martin gave in as he uttered the words: “Please do not kill me. I am a poor alcoholic.” His life was spared and, with only a short hiccup or two, Martin has been sober ever since – nearly two years. He has approached this period of his life with customary humility and fortitude. It has not always been an easy journey – it took the best part of a year to win back the trust of his girlfriend Lynne and to shore up some of the wreckage of the past. Despite now being very at home in Paris, Martin possesses what I think of as the best in the English character. He is gloriously individual whilst considering himself quite normal. I look forward to seeing where his creativity and inventiveness take him next. ©This article originally appeared in Zembla Issue 3 Spring 2004. Catalogue 62 Dear Editor, Personally I have high regard for Kazakhstan finding it an excellent and civilized country. In my profession as a rare bookseller I put together a very valuable and interesting library there. The highlights were editions of Newton, Galileo, Hegel, Kant, Marx, Engels and Churchill. It also included very significant texts the contents of which our Government and that of America appear not to have digested. The whole process was rewarding intellectually and quite saved my bacon as I was, at the time, being casually deconstructed by the Queens bank; something that is now a closed book. In regard to Mr. Cohen's film I am most confused....Naaart! (cf Borat) Good shooting Mr C
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This list is available to view or download via the following link 
Catalogue 64 is available to view or download via the following link 
Our Christmas list is available to view or download via the following link 
Catalogue 63 is available to view or download via the following link 
Catalogue 62 is available to view or download via the following link