I saw The Stones at Lincoln Drill Hall on New Year’s Eve, 31st December, 1963. It was a dance-hall gig, and my then girl-friend, Mary, and I stood in the front row, dead centre, with our legs pressed against the edge of the low stage. It was obvious to me then that Brian was the real talent in the band - great guitar, amazing harmonica playing - and even though Jagger was no more than three feet from us, I was transfixed by Brian’s quiet virtuosity, could hardly take my eyes off him.

Brian’s untimely death was undoubtedly one of the greatest losses to rock music, and I often wonder what he could have gone on to achieve had he conquered his demons and lived.