For many, Mike Oldfield is synonymous with one thing. In Changeling, his first autobiography, he has over 250 pages to flesh out the man behind, before and beyond Tubular Bells. As you’d expect of an artist whose teenage debut reached such fame, a hefty chunk of the book is dedicated to the Tubular Bells years, and rightfully so: Oldfield speaking with relish and colour about the album that elevated him to worldwide fame.
It’s a sad fact, then, that …Bells is perhaps the only thing with which Oldfield speaks without contempt. Not to dismiss the difficult childhood as a social recluse, brought up by an alcoholic mother: in fact, the influence of these hard times, which make for a rather depressing introduction to his life, help add a spine to Oldfield’s erratic story. It is, though, just one of many recurring themes that are reiterated to the point of boredom, and leaves Changeling – as Oldfield observes of himself with all too much regularity – like a fish out of water: full of life and hope for a few minutes, before ultimately giving up and accepting its fate.
