In September 1991, I had just been thrown into the brutal world of a Midlands boarding school. It was a place of predators and prey. You were either the swaggering rugby alpha, snapping a wet towel at pale bodies in the eight-boy dormitory, or the homesick ghost, always on guard, endlessly braced for your toilet cubicle to be kicked open or your washbag thrown off the fire escape. My mind had always been loud, racing with opinions, stories, and jokes. But by the time I had properly formed a thought, the conversation had already moved on without me. Suddenly, under constant social scrutiny in a world where loud confidence ruled, I felt dismissed. Up to that point, music hadn’t helped. Every rock star I had ever seen – Elton John, Freddie Mercury, Mick Jagger – was a showboating peacock, all hips, handclaps, and absurd glasses, seeming to whisper in my ear: “This isn’t for you, bookworm.” But that September, I stumbled across the Stone Roses’ self-titled 1989 debut album. I must have seen John Squire’s genius before I heard it, on his paint-splashed, lemon-drizzled sleeve art. Hearing his cascading, iridescent guitar solos, I assumed Squire must be an extroverted guitar hero: foot on the monitor, diamante codpiece, the works. But there he was on the CD inlay: pipecleaner-skinny, dressed in Manchester streetwear, and inscrutable beneath a bird’s-nest fringe (until the mid-90s, I genuinely wasn’t sure if Squire had eyes), slinging a Gretsch Country Gentleman guitar but not treating it like a penis extension. Years before YouTube, it wasn’t easy to find out more. But when I dug up back issues of NME, I went from fan to disciple. A sometime model-maker who once worked on The Wind in the Willows – but also a child of 70s punk – Squire was enigmatic and otherworldly, softly spoken yet intense as a laser-cutter. Asked by one interviewer what the Roses were all about, his answer was the perfect collision of sky-scraping ambition and bone-dry Britishness: “Love and hate. War and peace. Morecambe and Wise …” In those formative weeks, for the first time, I realised that “quiet” could also mean charismatic, insolent, snarky, simmering with latent attitude and temperamentally suited for a life in the arts. Through Squire, I discovered painting (Jackson Pollock’s “drip and splash” influence was all over his sleeves and guitars), modern history (the Paris riots of May 68 referenced on Bye Bye Badman), fashion, and even religion (you only had to read his lyric to 1994’s Love Spreads, a take on the Passion, with Jesus imagined as a Black woman, to sense the iconoclast claws below the still waters). Hearing the Roses at school, meanwhile, was my ticket into a secret society of indie kids that I hadn’t known existed, all swapping albums, making mixtapes, easy in each other’s company, building each other’s confidence. I picked up the guitar that same year, too, went on to write about it for the music press – and now play so loud in my own band that I can drown out a thousand braying show-offs. Squire doesn’t do many interviews, and when I drove to his Cheshire farmhouse for Guitarist Magazine, I was worried he wouldn’t actually speak. But perhaps he recognised a kindred spirit. Over an hour’s encounter in his studio, the musician who had meant so much to me proved thoughtful, witty, and profound, signed the schoolboy-era guitar I’d flecked Pollock-style with paint, and even gave me a parting hug. John Squire didn’t change me; he stopped me fighting myself. Under his influence, I stopped trying to turn up the volume, accepted being an introvert, and held him in mind whenever anyone equated quietness with dullness. Fast-forward 35 years – to a time when influencers squeal and preen, flogging every last grain of themselves to the attention economy – and the Roses guitarist seeBeing a few degrees cooler for living on his own terms, leaving something to the imagination, and treating Jonathan Ross with chilly disdain. Perhaps we could all stand to be a little more Squire? Share your cultural awakenings. You can tell us how a cultural moment has prompted you to make a major life change by filling in the form below or emailing us at cultural.awakening@theguardian.com. Please share your story if you are 18 or over, anonymously if you wish. For more information please see our terms of service and privacy policy. Tell us here. 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Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs How The Stone Roses Showed Me the Power of Being an Introvert
1 What does The Stone Roses showed me the power of being an introvert even mean
It means the band helped someone see that being quiet and inward isnt a weakness Their music and vibe showed that introverts can be powerful in their own way
2 Who are The Stone Roses
A British rock band from Manchester formed in the 1980s Theyre famous for their 1989 debut album and for helping kick off the Madchester scene
3 How can a band teach you anything about being an introvert
Through their music lyrics and attitude Their songs have a dreamy inwardlooking quality and the band members themselves werent typical loud rock stars That can resonate with introverts
4 What is an introvert exactly
Someone who recharges by spending time alone or in quiet settings Introverts often prefer deep conversations over small talk and think before they speak
5 Is being an introvert the same as being shy
No Shyness is about fear of social judgment Introversion is about where you get your energy You can be an introvert who isnt shy at all
6 Whats a good example of introvert power in The Stone Roses story
Their quiet patient approach They took years to make their debut album and let the music speak for itself instead of chasing attention Thats a very introvert move quality over noise
7 What are some benefits of being an introvert
Better listening skills deeper focus thoughtful decisions strong oneonone relationships and creativity that comes from time alone
8 What common problems do introverts face
Being talked over in groups feeling drained at parties being mistaken for rude or uninterested and struggling with loud fastpaced workplaces
9 Whats a practical tip for handling social exhaustion
Plan quiet breaks before and after events Step outside for ten minutes or leave early without guilt Recharge time isnt rudeits necessary
10 How do I explain my introversion to friends or coworkers
Keep it simple I need some quiet time to recharge but Im glad I came Most people understand once you say it plainly
