Lawrence: Dreams, drugs, obsessions, and pop music, according to the world's unluckiest artist.

"I'm the unluckiest artist in the world." That's how Lawrence , a cult musician from the deepest catacombs of the English underground scene of the 1980s, defines himself. His desire for massive success was always thwarted by a mysterious force that shattered all his dreams and turned them into forbidden, almost pornographic desires. With Felt , he managed to win over musicians, but few others. With Denim , he was set to become a standard-bearer of 1990s Brit pop , but the death of Princess Diana led to the withdrawal of his single, "Summer Smash," after it had already reached number one. In the 2000s, his mental problems began to worsen, his inability to live in reality, and the beginning of a destitution that eventually led him to live in filthy hostels, if not on the streets. "Sometimes I think I'm a bad person and I deserve my bad luck. But then I see other pop stars, their lack of talent, what they have and how bad they are, and it passes me by," he confessed in statements to ABC.

Now, this maniacal, reclusive, and antisocial artist reveals the secrets of his eventful existence in the book "Street Superstar: A Year with Lawrence" by Will Hodgkinson . Every Friday, the writer accompanied the musician through the working-class neighborhoods of North London, while he told him about his life, from his difficult relationship with his parents in 1970s Birmingham to his long-awaited rebirth in the 2020s after years of homelessness, mental health problems, and emotional breakdown. "Reality has never lived up to my dreams or expectations. Only now, with the book, have I begun to experience fame for the first time. People stop me on the street to say hello. Before, it was only to rob me or mistake me for an old lady," says Lawrence.

His family wasn't exemplary, but it wasn't terrible either. His relationship with his mother was distant, to say the least. His father was a gambling addict . His sister, with whom he was more intimate, became pregnant at 16. The only escape he had from a life without incentives or stimulation was music. "We were poor, and I only bought myself three records a year: one for my birthday, one for Christmas, and another when someone was lucky enough to take pity on me. To me, they were like the Bible. I lived through them. I still have all the lyrics memorized," he says.

People like Television, T-Rex, and David Bowie became his true family, and he decided he'd form a band and become the next pop superstar from the English Midlands. "I founded Felt and thought we'd talk about literature, go to art galleries with beautiful women, and that life would be sublime, but all I found were musicians who just wanted to drink and get drunk," he notes.

In the early 90s, he moved to New York and thought he'd be experiencing the most sophisticated bohemian life, sharing a table with Lou Reed or Patti Smith , but all he got was being alone in a ridiculous apartment. At least it allowed him to write in one sitting the first album of his new project, Denim, a more festive, direct, fun band, in tune with the times, which was supposed to turn him into something like the real Jarvis Cocker . And he was close to achieving it, but Princess Diana's accident caused his song "Summer Smash," a true summer hit, to disappear from the radio due to its content that seemed too insensitive to the tragedy. "I've never doubted my talent. I always believe that what I do is the best in the world. This has made me think a lot about why I haven't achieved the success that others have. And despite all my failures, I've continued. I've never given in to the temptation of getting a job and living life to the fullest. I'm only interested in living my dreams." "My story is not one of success, but it is one of resilience," he says.

In 1984, he visited our country for the first time . His performance in Barcelona can still be seen on YouTube, in one of the few surviving live recordings of the band Felt. During that brief visit, he fell in love with Angels, a television presenter who introduced the concerts. And everything was going well until, a few months later, she came to see him in Birmingham. "We didn't know what to say to each other. I had all these expectations in my head, and the disappointment was too great. The story of my life," he explains.

At his book launch in Barcelona, ​​Angels herself came to see him, even asking him a question: " Was everything you've sacrificed for music worth it? " Lawrence's response was emphatic. "It couldn't have been any other way." "She hadn't changed at all. It was nice to see her. Plus, she left early; she didn't want to chat for the sake of chatting, so that was good," says Lawrence.

At 63, he's left his flirtation with heroin behind, managed to stabilize his difficult relationship with reality, and firmly believes that massive success is still possible. "The book has opened up this possibility. Now I just need to take advantage of the attention I've gotten," he says. What he's never done, doesn't do, and won't do is eat. He doesn't eat. Literally. On his visit to Barcelona, ​​he was horrified to see his entourage enter a tapas bar. He hates seeing people eat and the only things he can tolerate are chocolate, always the same kind, and some fruit. "In theater and on television, to give the scene greater realism, they put the actor or actress on duty eating, and I can't stand it. It's beyond my strength. One day I'll drop dead and they'll say it was from malnutrition, but that's beyond my strength. I would only eat if I had a personal chef with three Michelin stars. They're as perfectionists as I am, and their dishes would be up to par with me," he says, serious and haughty.