Posted on: February 23rd, 2010 by Reuben Turner

As I write this, Ian Dury’s Spasticus Autisticus is playing on the creative department ipod. Released as his contribution to the International Year of the Disabled in 1977, it was instantly banned – effectively ending his chances of charting again. It was also disowned by the Spastics Society (now Scope, of course), whose idea it was that he make it. A brave and completely uncompromising record, it still has the power to deeply unnerve, with its Duryesque combination of shouty aggro and sensitivity (‘You can read my body / But you’ll never read my books’).

The reason I’m writing about it now (apart from that it’s on our ipod this month) is that there’s a campaign to get Spasticus Autisticus to number one in March, to mark what would have been Ian’s birthday. And I just don’t know what to do about it.

I have to confess to a ton of personal influences here. One of my sons has autism and, like any protective father I’m very sensitive to disability issues. Did Dury, a polio sufferer, really have the right to talk about autism? He spent some years at the legendary Chailey Heritage school in Sussex, surrounded by children with disabilities of all kinds, so perhaps he did. There’s a family connection too – my brother’s partner Jemima is Ian’s daughter and has recently lived through the catharsis of Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll hitting the screens. I want to help her dad’s memory live on, because I know it matters to her.

I’m torn. It makes me uncomfortable. Maybe this is a good thing. Spasticus Autisticus was written to make me so. Maybe I don’t get to judge whether it’s an offensive anachronism or a powerful call for respect. Maybe disabled people do. There’s a great interview with a disability rights campaigner here who says that the record remains ‘a number one in waiting’. What would the people with autism I’ve met over the years think? Offended? Proud? Nonplussed? Probably all of the above – they are different people, after all.

I don’t know which way I’ll go. And I don’t know whether the campaign will succeed. What I do know – and what Spasticus Autisticus reminds us – is that challenge is good for you. Have a cringe. Have a wince. Have a listen.

You won’t feel better for it. But that’s the point.