A good deal of the rock music I listened to in the 1970s was, I realise now, militantly introverted: a commercially suicidal mix of evasive lyrics, intellectualism and tricky time signatures. Not surprisingly, most of the people who made this music remain obscure. But there is one figure to have emerged from that scene who has steadily grown in stature and reputation over the last few decades: Robert Wyatt.
My hero: Robert Wyatt by Jonathan Coe
