The plot of A Song from Dead Lips revolves around the murder of a young woman who turns out to be one of the “Apple Scruffs”, a group of hardcore fans who were hanging around the group that year.

1968 was a troubling year for The Beatles. At the same time as London’s students were rioting against the Vietnam war in Grosvenor Square, The Beatles were in India, trying to connect with their inner selves in Rishikesh with their guru, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

With the death of their manager, Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ aura of invincibility started to crack. The Apple Boutique in Baker Street closed within a few months of opening. John Lennon had ditched his wife Cynthia for a strange Japanese artist called Yoko Ono.

With his discovery of heroin, his songs were becoming increasingly introspective, increasingly about what writer Ian MacDonald called “the revolution in the head”, not the revolution on the streets.

In an era in which bands still knocked out records in a couple of weeks, it was to take six months to record their next album. Between May and October 1968, The Beatles laid down would become known unofficially as The White Album.

When John Lennon recorded Revolution 1 for their The White Album he encapsulated the band’s unease about events that year outside of EMI’s studios. Which revolution were they part of? Where they part of the revolution at all? Where they “in” or “out”?

The sleeve to their previous album Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band had been designed by Peter Blake. It was brash, exuberant and colourful. The Beatles‘ sleeve was also designed by a great British pop artist, Richard Hamilton. But in contrast to the exuberant colourful sleeve of Sergeant Pepper’s, this was a plain white square. A baffling blankness.

In an era in which fans attempted to decode every lyric, every glance, every piece obscure symbolism, seeking some instruction from the heroes of the cultural vanguard, The Beatles was a strange, sometimes incoherent statement. The gods were no longer so sure of themselves.

A House of Knives features real-life art dealer Robert Fraser.

Few figures have had a bigger influence on the 20th century British art scene than Robert Fraser (1937-1986). He was the man who linked the world of Richard Hamilton and Peter Blake to The Beatles, and the man who gave The Rolling Stones their bohemian credibility through his ultimately destructive relationship with Keith Richards and Anita Pallenberg who were living at his flat at the time A House of Knives is set. He was also the man who hosted the John Lennon and Yoko Ono exhibition You Are Here and who gave Gilbert & George their first show. His life was explored in the excellent book Groovy Bob, by Harriet Vyner. I was delighted to discover that that book was also edited by my editor at Quercus, Jon Riley.

Fraser’s life was also the subject of a recent exhibition at Pace Galleries, A Strong Sweet Smell of Incense.

In 1968 the corruption scandals that were about to envelop the Metropolitan Police were still a year away.

Between 1969 and 1972, initially following an exposé in The Sunday Times, scores of detectives would go to jail; hundreds more policemen would be forced to resign.

The Drug Squad detective “Nobby”‘ Pilcher, featured in A Song from Dead Lips, was one of those who would be prosecuted.

In September 1973 Detective Sergeant Norman Clement “Nobby” Pilcher was convicted on a charge of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice after it became clear that he was extorting money from victims he had framed for drug offences. In a five year career on the Drug Squad, Pilcher was responsible for arresting Donovan, Mick Jagger, Brian Jones, Keith Richards, George Harrison and John Lennon for drug offences.

Sentencing him, Justice Melford Stevenson said, “You poisoned the wells of criminal justice and you set about it deliberately.”

The “coathanger” operations, featured in A Song From Dead Lips were also commonplace, as well as the widespread practice of “fitting up” suspected criminals in order to either extort protection money for them, or simply convict them of crimes that the police had not otherwise solved.

The Sunday Times investigation as followed by Sir Robert Mark’s deep reforms of the Metropolitan Police and were bitterly resented by many serving officers at that time.

Zoom and click to explore the locations featured in the Breen and Tozer books.