SIMON RAYMONDE
Looking back over some of the press cuttings from my Cocteau Twins days (1983 to 1997) in an attempt to jog my memory for a book I’m writing, it’s a wonder that people even dare to speak to me. I was quite convinced, for a period, that we were in fact not human at all, but had glided down on gossamer wing from some celestial plain. Interviewers seemed genuinely disappointed when we answered the door in clothes and not capes.