Midsummers Day

The festival is primarily a Celtic fire festival, representing the middle of summer, and the shortening of the days on their gradual march to winter. Midsummer is traditionally celebrated on either the 23rd or 24th of June, although the longest day actually falls on the 21st of June. The importance of the day to our ancestors can be traced back many thousands of years, and many stone circles and other ancient monuments are aligned to the sunrise on Midsummer’s Day. Probably the most famous alignment is that at Stonehenge, where the sun rises over the heel stone, framed by the giant trilithons on Midsummer morning.

In antiquity midsummer fires were lit in high places all over the countryside, and in some areas of Scotland Midsummer fires were still being lit well into the 18th century. This was especially true in rural areas, where the weight of reformation thinking had not been thoroughly assimilated. It was a time when the domestic beasts of the land were blessed with fire, generally by walking them around the fire in a sun-wise direction. It was also customary for people to jump high through the fires, folklore suggesting that the height reached by the most athletic jumper, would be the height of that years harvest.

After Christianity became adopted in Britain, the festival became known as St John’s day and was still celebrated as an important day in the church calendar; the birthday of St John the Baptist. Traditionally St John’s Eve (like the eve of many festivals) was seen as a time when the veil between this world and the next was thin, and when powerful forces were abroad. Vigils were often held during the night and it was said that if you spent a night at a sacred site during Midsummer Eve, you would gain the powers of a bard, on the down side you could also end up utterly mad, dead, or be spirited away by the fairies.

Indeed St Johns Eve was a time when fairies were thought to be abroad and at their most powerful (hence Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream).

St John’s Wort was also traditionally gathered on this day, thought to be imbued with the power of the sun. Other special flowers (Vervain, trefoil, rue and roses) were also thought to be most potent at this time, and were traditionally placed under a pillow in the hope of important dreams, especially dreams about future lovers.

The festival is still important to pagans today, including the modern day druids who (barring any trouble) celebrate the solstice at Stonehenge in Wiltshire. For them the light of the sun on Midsummer’s Day signifies the sacred Awen. For witches the summer solstice forms one of the lesser sabbats, their main festivals being Beltane (1st May) and Samhain. Some occultists still celebrate the ancient festivals around 11 days later than our calendar; this marks the 11 days, which were lost when the Gregorian calendar replaced the Julian calendar in 1751.

Ravi Shankar - Regal Records – 1969

Ahir Lalit / Nat Bhairo / Bhatiar / Sindu Bhairavi / Hemant / Rasiya

Marwa / Puriya Kalyan / Yaman Manj / Tilak Shyam / Yaman Bilawal / Bangla Kirtan

Pandit Ravi Shankar (Bengali: রবি শংকর, “Pandit” is honorific) (born April 7, 1920) is a Bengali Indian sitar player and composer. He is a disciple of Baba Allauddin Khan, the founder of the Maihar gharana of Hindustani classical music, and the father of Grammy-award-winning singer-songwriter Norah Jones and sitar player Anoushka Shankar.

Ravi Shankar is a leading Indian instrumentalist of the modern era. He has been a longtime musical collaborator of tabla-players Ustad Allah Rakha, Kishan Maharaj and intermittently also of sarod-player Ustad Ali Akbar Khan. His collaborations with violinist Yehudi Menuhin, film maker Satyajit Ray, and The Beatles (in particular, George Harrison) added to his international reputation.

He has received many awards throughout his career, including three Grammy Awards and an Academy Award nomination. In 1999, Ravi Shankar was awarded the Bharat Ratna award, India’s highest civilian honor.

Ravi Shankar was born in Benares, India. His family originally hails from Narail, Jessore district, East Bengal, now in Bangladesh.

His first wife, sitarist Annapurna Devi is the daughter of his teacher, Ustad Alauddin Khan. They had a son, Shubhendra Shankar (1942-92), who was also a musician.

Shankar later had two other children, singer Norah Jones in 1979 with Sue Jones and sitarist Anoushka Shankar in 1981 with Sukanya Shankar. Shankar is also the brother of dancer and choreographer, Uday Shankar, with whom he started giving stage shows as a child artist. He is the uncle of Indian musician Ananda Shankar and of the Indian dancer and actress Mamata Shankar. It is worth noting that despite popular belief, the Tamil violinist L. Shankar is not related to Ravi.

Ravi Shankar has been on stage from the age of 10 and has been all over the world as a dancer and a musician. He first performed publicly in India in 1939. He finished his formal training in 1944 and worked out of Mumbai (Bombay). He began writing scores for film and ballet and started a recording career with HMV’s Indian affiliate Regal Records. He became music director of All India Radio in the 1950s. From 1946 onwards he began to compose original music for films. Some of his most noted scores include the ones for Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy and Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi. He also composed the tune for Saare Jahan Se Achcha.

Ravi Shankar then became well known to the music world outside India, first performing in the former Soviet Union in 1954 and then the West in 1956. He performed in major events such as the Monterey Pop Festival and at major venues such as the Royal Festival Hall.

Already performing in major concert halls all around the world, Shankar, having attained pop cultural fame, was invited to play venues that were unusual for a classical musician, such as the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival in Monterey, California, with Ustad Allah Rakha on tabla.

He was also one of the artists who performed at the Woodstock Festival in 1969, and with George Harrison was one of the organizers of The Concert for Bangladesh in 1971, in an attempt to raise awareness of the growing crisis (see 1970 Bhola cyclone, Bangladesh Liberation War and 1971 Bangladesh atrocities carried out by West Pakistan Army) that was occurring in East Pakistan (now independent Bangladesh) at the hand of West Pakistan Army where Shankar’s family origins lay. It was Ravi Shankar who asked George Harrison for his help to raise funds for Bangladesh. Ravi Shankar & Friends co-headlined Harrison’s 1974 tour of North America with mixed reviews. His final working album with Harrison was on a 1997 album, Chants of India, where Harrison developed an interest in chant music. After his colleague’s death on 29 November in 2001, following a long fight against cancer, Shankar, his daughter, Anoushka, along with Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Jeff Lynne, Eric Clapton, Tom Petty, Billy Preston, among many others attended the Concert for George in London, where Shankar dedicated the memorial to Harrison.

Shankar has been critical of some facets of the Western reception of Indian music. On a trip to San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district after performing in Monterey, Shankar wrote,

“I felt offended and shocked to see India being regarded so superficially and its great culture being exploited. Yoga, Tantra, mantra, kundalini, ganja, hashish, Kama Sutra? They all became part of a cocktail that everyone seemed to be lapping up! ”

In 1969 he published an English language autobiography, “My Music, My Life”.

Always ahead of his time, Shankar has written two concertos for sitar and orchestra. His 3rd concerto will be given its debut performance by Orpheus Chamber Orchestra and his daughter Anoushka Shankar.The piece is scored for solo sitar and orchestra consisting of piccolo, oboe, English horn, clarinet, bassoon, horn, trumpet, timpani, 2 percussionists, harp and strings. In the first two concertos, Shankar doubled as composer and soloist. For his third concerto, commissioned by Orpheus, he calls on his daughter Anoushka Shankar, a leading sitar player of her generation and a rising world music star. To meet the challenge of notating Indian musical concepts in Western notation, Shankar enlisted the Welsh conductor David Murphy to help transcribe the work into an orchestral score. The concerto begins with an energetic orchestral overture, introducing the exotic musical language of sinuous melodies, shifting rhythms and drone notes. Unlike typical Western concert music, which derives much of its momentum from harmony and key relationships, Indian music builds intensity through melodic and rhythmic elaboration. Call-and-response passages offer special insight into the translation of the sitar’s sonorities into an orchestral idiom.

He has also written violin-sitar compositions for Yehudi Menuhin and himself, music for flute virtuoso Jean-Pierre Rampal, music for Hōzan Yamamoto, master of the shakuhachi (Japanese flute), and koto virtuoso Musumi Miyashita. He has composed extensively for films and ballets in India, Canada, Europe, and the United States, including Chappaqua, Charly, Gandhi (for which he was nominated for an Academy Award), and the Apu Trilogy. His recording Tana Mana, released on the Private Music label in 1987, penetrated the New Age genre with its unique combination of traditional instruments with electronics. In 2002, Ravi composed a piece for “The Concert for George.” He did not play at the concert, but his daughter Anoushka led an ensemble of Indian musicians in the piece. The classical composer Philip Glass acknowledges Shankar as a major influence, and the two collaborated to produce Passages, a recording of compositions in which each reworks themes composed by the other. Shankar also composed the sitar part in Glass’s 2004 composition Orion. Ravi Shankar has homes in Encinitas, California and New Delhi, Delhi, India.

Some of his well-known students are Kartik Kumar, Chandrakant Sardeshmukh, Guru Pitka, Deepak Chowdhury, Harihar Rao, Amiya Das Gupta, Shamim Ahmed, Partho Sarathy, Vishwa Mohan Bhatt, Manju Mehta, Shubhendra Rao, Kartik Seshadri, Stephen Slavek, Stephen James, Tarun Bhattacharya, Jaya Bose, and David Murphy. His daughter Anoushka started learning from him at the age of 8 and frequently accompanies him in concerts in addition to her solo performances.

Shankar is an honorary member of the International Rostrum of Composers. He has received many awards and honors from his own country and from all over the world, including 14 honorary doctorates, the Padma Vibhushan, Desikottam, the Magsaysay Award from Manila, three Grammy Awards, the Fukuoka Asian Culture Prize (Grand Prize) from Japan, and the Crystal Award from Davos, with the title “Global Ambassador”, to name but some. In 1986 he was nominated to be a member of the Rajya Sabha, India’s upper house of Parliament, for six years. In 2002, he was conferred the inaugural Indian Chamber of Commerce Lifetime Achievement Award. The Bharat Ratna, India’s highest civilian honor, was awarded to him in 1999. In 1998 he was awarded the Polar Music Prize with Ray Charles. He shared an Academy Award nomination with George Fenton for Best Original Score to Gandhi (1982).

Anniversary of Stonehenge and the `Battle of the Beanfield’ 1st June 1985

It’s 25 years this month, since the major trashing of my community, travelling on the way the make the “Peoples Free Festival of Albion” at Stonehenge. It was a regular event on the calender.

This is my account, of the events that day, and its aftermath …….

They said: something had to be done! Stonehenge appeared central to the situation. Police “Operation Solstice” was initiated.

At a meeting of the Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO), in early 1985, it was resolved to obtain a High Court Injunction preventing the annual gathering at Stonehenge. This was the device to be used to justify the attack at the “Battle of the Beanfield” on the 1st June in Hampshire. Well it wasn’t a battle really.

It was an ambush.

It was a magnificent convoy stretching and snaking its way over the Wiltshire Downs, as far as you could see in either direction. It was a warm Saturday afternoon as we drove through villages, people stood outside their garden gates, smiling and waving at us. A carnival atmosphere with little evidence of the ‘local opposition’ that we had been lead to believe was one of the reasons for obtaining the court orders.

A police helicopter watched overhead but there was little other sign of trouble until……..

Seven miles from Stonehenge (the exclusion order was for four and a half miles), just short of the A303 and the Hampshire / Wiltshire border, two lorry loads of gravel where tipped across the road. Up to this point, no laws had been broken. I got out of my truck to take photographs when I first saw some twenty policemen running down the convoy ahead of me smashing windscreens without warning and ‘arresting’ / assaulting the occupants, dragging them out through the windscreens broken glass.

I and others who saw this were fearful of the level of violence used by the police in making arrests. Clearly we were in for a beating, again! Running back to our vehicles, we drove through a hedge in to the adjacent field.

The scale of the police operation was becoming obvious. The same level of violence had been applied to the rear of the convoy. Large numbers of police in many lines deep could be seen on the road forming up.

From then on, the situation grew more tense. More police reinforcements were brought up wearing one-piece blue overalls – without numbers!, ‘Nato-style’ helmets with visors and both full length perspex shields and circular black plastic shields. A ‘stand-off’ situation developed with sporadic outbreaks of violence.

Working with the festival welfare agencies, I was directed to a number of head injuries that has resulted from the initial conflict on the road. All of these injuries were truncheon wounds to the back of the head and some people were quite distressed. I was shown one man, about 20 years old who was semi-conscious with yet another head wound. I was fearful of him dying. An ambulance was called and I assisted the attendant and helped convey the casualty through police lines. The ambulance crew were initially apprehensive about their safety but assurances were given.

In between the taking of photographs, the copious first aid and concerns for my family and friends, I attempted to start negotiations and set up lines of communications with the middle-ranking ‘line’ officers. There was no ‘middle ground’ to be found, so, with others I organised a meeting with Assistant Chief Constable Lional Grundy. He was in charge of the overall operation. It was early evening before we were able to meet him. The tone of the meeting was ‘do what your told or else!’ He reiterated that people should be leave their vehicle and be arrested.

Because of the fear of what that might intail (after viewing the violence earlier in the day), those I met with were reticent about this. I met Grundy again a little later and attempted to reason further with him, but the ACC then threatened to arrest me for obstruction if I persisted.

Police in full kit were now massed in large numbers and obviously getting ready to charge. It turns out that police had been arresting a lot of people around Stonehenge earlier in the afternoon. At 7.00pm, Grundy had sixteen hundred policemen from six counties, Ministry of Defence police and some believe, army officers in police uniforms!!!

They had been briefed that we were all violent anarchists rather than a bunch of young people and families with children.

They charged.

The scenes that followed were recorded by media that had evaded the police blockade. The story was international news. ‘Dixon of Dock Green’ type policing was dead. That which Britain was noted for had now changed to para-military operations against minority groups.

Kim Sabido of ITN, a reporter used to visiting the worlds ‘hot spots’ did an emotional piece-to-camera as he described the worst police violence that he had ever seen.

“What we – the ITN camera crew and myself as a reporter – have seen in the last 30 minutes here in this field has been some of the most brutal police treatment of people that I’ve witnessed in my entire career as a journalist. The number of people who have been hit by policemen, who have been clubbed whilst holding babies in their arms in coaches around this field, is yet to be counted…There must surely be an enquiry after what has happened today”.

There wasn’t.

When the item was nationally broadcast on ITN news later that day, Sabido’s voice-over had been removed and replaced with a dispassionate narrator. The worst film footage was also edited out. When approached for the footage not shown on the news, ITN claimed it was missing. Sabido said.

“When I got back to ITN during the following week and I went to the library to look at all the rushes, most of what Id thought wed shot was no longer there,” recalls Sabido. “From what I’ve seen of what ITN has provided since, it just disappeared, particularly some of the nastier shots.”

Some but not all of the missing footage has since surfaced on bootleg tapes and was incorporated into the Operation Solstice documentary shown on Channel Four in 1991.

Public knowledge of the events of that day are still limited by the fact that only a small number of journalists were present in the Beanfield at the time. Most, including the BBC television crew, had obeyed the police directive to stay behind police lines at the bottom of the hill “for their own safety”.

One of the few journalists to ignore police advice and attend the scene was Nick Davies, Home Affairs correspondent for The Observer. He wrote:

“There was glass breaking, people screaming, black smoke towering out of burning caravans and everywhere there seemed to be people being bashed and flattened and pulled by the hair….men, women and children were led away, shivering, swearing, crying, bleeding, leaving their homes in pieces…..Over the years I had seen all kinds of horrible and frightening things and always managed to grin and write it. But as I left the Beanfield, for the first time, I felt sick enough to cry.”

During the charge, I took photographs, but I put my camera away. My (ex) -wife and I comforting and cuddles with each other for fear, before we were attacked..

530 were arrested that day (both at the Beanfield and at Stonehenge), the most in any operation since the Second World War.

Photographic evidence is scant because of the nature of the action. Ben Gibson, a freelance photographer working for The Observer that day, was arrested in the Beanfield after photographing riot police smashing their way into a Traveller’s coach. He was later acquitted of charges of obstruction although the intention behind his arrest had been served by removing him from the scene. Most of the negatives from the film he managed to shoot disappeared from The Observers archives during an office move.

A friend and fellow photographer Tim Malyon narrowly avoided the same fate:

“Whilst attempting to take pictures of one group of officers beating people with their truncheons, a policeman shouted out to get him and I was chased. I ran and was not arrested.”

Tim Malyon’s negatives have also been lost with only a few prints surviving.

One unusual eye-witness to the Beanfield nightmare was the Earl of Cardigan, secretary of the Marlborough Conservative Association and manager of Savernake Forest (on behalf of his father the Marquis of Ailesbury). He had travelled along with the convoy on his motorbike accompanied by fellow Conservative Association member John Moore. As the Travellers had left from land managed by Cardigan, the pair thought “it would be interesting to follow the events personally”. Wearing crash helmets to disguise their identity, they witnessed what Cardigan described to Squall as `unspeakable’ police violence.

Cardigan subsequently provided eye-witness testimonies of police behaviour during prosecutions brought against Wiltshire Police.

These included descriptions of a heavily pregnant woman “with a silhouette like a zeppelin” being “clubbed with a truncheon” and riot police showering a woman and child with glass. “I had just recently had a baby daughter myself so when I saw babies showered with glass by riot police smashing windows, I thought of my own baby lying in her cradle 25 miles away in Marlborough,” recalls Cardigan.

After the Beanfield, Wiltshire Police approached Lord Cardigan to gain his consent for an immediate eviction of the Travellers remaining on his Savernake Forest site.

“They said they wanted to go into the campsite `suitably equipped’ and `finish unfinished business’. Make of that phrase what you will, says Cardigan. “I said to them that if it was my permission they were after, they did not have it. I did not want a repeat of the grotesque events that I’d seen the day before.”

Instead, the site was evicted using court possession proceedings, allowing the Travellers a few days recuperative grace.

As a prominent local aristocrat and Tory, Cardigans testimony held unusual sway, presenting unforeseen difficulties for those seeking to cover up and re-interpret the events at the Beanfield.

In an effort to counter the impact of his testimony, several national newspapers began painting him as a `loony lord’, questioning his suitability as an eye-witness and drawing farcical conclusions from the fact that his great-great grandfather had led the charge of the light brigade. The Times editorial on June 3rd claimed that being “barking mad was probably hereditary.”

As a consequence, Lord Cardigan successfully sued The Times, The Telegraph, the Daily Mail, the Daily Express and the Daily Mirror for claiming that his allegations against the police were false and for suggesting that he was making a home for hippies. He received what he describes as “a pleasing cheque and a written apology” from all of them. His treatment by the press was ample indication of the united front held between the prevailing political intention and media backup, with Lord Cardigans eye-witness account as a serious spanner in the plotted works:

“On the face of it they had the ultimate establishment creature – land-owning, peer of the realm, card-carrying member of the Conservative Party – slagging off police and therefore by implication befriending those who they call the powers of darkness,” says Cardigan.

“I hadn’t realised that anybody that appeared to be supporting elements that stood against the establishment would be savaged by establishment newspapers. Now one thinks about it, nothing could be more natural. I hadn’t realised that I would be considered a class traitor; if I see a policeman truncheoning a woman I feel I’m entitled to say that it is not a good thing you should be doing. I went along, saw an episode in British history and reported what I saw.”

For three days (and nights), without adequate food, sleep and many to a cell, we filled police stations across the south of England. From Bristol, where I was taken, to Southampton and London. We were then charged with the serious offence of ‘Unlawful Assembly’. Most charges were eventually dropped after all of this.

Some had lost everything they had. Parents where frantic in locating their children that had been taken into care. Vehicles had been taken to a ‘pound’ some 25 miles away and people had to go through further humiliation in reclaiming what was left of their homes.

Twenty-four of us took out a civil action against the Chief Constable of Wiltshire for the wrongs that were done to us that day. Nearly six years later at the High Court in Winchester, we won most of our case and were each awarded damages against the police. The Guardian said “Need to preserve pubic order does not permit the police to ride roughshod over the rights of ordinary people”. After a four month hearing, (during which we were made to feel like we were on trial), on the last day, the Judge made an order on court costs that, as we were getting legal aid, meant we got nothing.

What’s new!

As Lord Gifford QC, our legal representative, put it:

“It left a very sour taste in the mouth.”

To some of those at the brunt end of the truncheon charge it left a devastating legacy.

Things have never been the same again since the Beanfield. Throughout the rest of the year whether in small groups or at events, travellers were continually harassed.

It had defiantly changed us in many different ways. There was one guy who I trusted my children with in the early 80s – he was a potter, amongst other things. A nicer chap you couldn’t wish to meet. After the Beanfield I wouldn’t let him anywhere near them. I saw him, a man of substance, at the end of all that nonsense wobbled to the point of illness and evil. It turned all of us and I’m sure that applies to the whole travelling community. There were plenty of people who had got something very positive together who came out of the Beanfield with a world view of `fuck everyone’.

The berserk nature of the police violence drew obvious comparisons with the coercive police tactics employed on the miners strike the year before. Many observers claimed the two events provided strong evidence that government directives were para-militarising police responses to crowd control. Indeed, the confidential Wiltshire Police Operation Solstice Report released to plaintiffs during the resulting Crown Court case, states: “Counsels opinion regarding the police tactics used in the miners strike to prevent a breach of the peace was considered relevant.”

The news section of Police Review, published seven days after the Beanfield, stated:

“The Police operation had been planned for several months and lessons in rapid deployment learned from the miners strike were implemented.”

The manufactured reasoning behind such heavy-handed tactics was best summed up in a laughable passage from the confidential police report on the Beanfield:

“There is known to be a hierarchy within the convoy; a small nucleus of leaders making the final decisions on all matters of importance relating to the convoys activities. A second group who are known as the lieutenants or warriors carry out the wishes of the convoy leader, intimidating other groups on site.”

If the coercive policing used during the miners strike was a violent introduction to Thatcher’s mal-intention towards union activity, the Battle of the Beanfield was a similarly severe introduction to a new era of intolerance of Travellers.

25 years later, some of us still suffer the consequences of this action.

Alan ‘Tash’ Lodge

Information gained from the following sites:

mysteriousbritain.co.uk for Midsummers Day

lifeofthebeatles.blogspot.com for Ravi Shankar

indymedia.org.uk for The Battle Of The Beanfield.

I’m On Fire / Decide / Free The Fighters / Your Toy / Fools And Soldiers

All The Downs / Goverment / Twelve Men / Many Rivers / Trouble Is The Day

No Escape / Urban Kids / No Flowers For Him / All The Downs / Right To Work / Look At The Outside

What Would You Do / No Ones Coming Outside / The Loner / Don’t Get Me Wrong / Decide / Come On

One of the many good things that occur while working on the music uploads for this site  is that I get to play records and cassettes that I have not heard for many many years. It is nice to get reacquainted with bands like The Wall (the post underneath this one) and the mighty Chelsea, a great band with some massively fine recorded output from 1977 up to 1982.

As 1983 arrived and went Chelsea split up for the upteempth time, this time I think for several years by which time any reformed versions of band were off my radar for good. I have no idea when the new version of Chelsea got back together or what records were released with any new versions of the band, or I can not remember at least…

I do however distinctly remember Gene October eyeing me up a fair bit in The Intrepid Fox in Wardour Street on the occasions I visited Soho for gigs at the Marquee club. He followed me all around the pub once until I had the chance to give him the slip and got over to the Marquee club opposite the pub!  I am sure he is a nice enough fellow, I just did not want or need that kind of attention at that time in my life…I was confused enough! 

Anyway, uploaded tonight are the first two LP’s released by this great band. The second LP is a more or less a compilation of singles, which I prefer just very slightly to the debut LP as Chelsea were always a great ‘singles’ band.

Go on, get reacquainted with tracks like ‘Look At The Outside’, ‘I’m On Fire’, ‘What Would You Do’, ‘Decide’, ’No Escape’ and many other great punk powerpop tunes from Chelsea.

Text below gloriously ripped from the chelseapunkband.com website.

It was in August 1976 that Gene October placed an advert in Melody Maker which led to replies from guitarist William Broad, bassist Tony James and drummer John Towe. On October 18th they made their live debut as Chelsea supporting Throbbing Gristle at London’s ICA. It was at this time that Gene convinced the manager of gay London nightclub, manager of a gay London nightspot in Covent Garden called ‘Shageramas’, to convert the club into London’s first live punk rock venue called ‘The Roxy’ – a fact for which he is given little credit. The band split in November 1976. Gene briefly recruited guitarist Marty Stacey and bassist Bob Jessie. The other three former members formed Generation X. When Gene was asked about his former band colleagues he said “Generation X? Oh yeah they used to be in Chelsea.”

In early 1977 Jessie and Stacey left and Gene put together a new line up consisting of guitarist James Stevenson, bassist Henry Daze and drummer Carey Fortune. This line up was slightly more permanent and soon the band’s first single, the punk classic ‘Right To Work’, was released. However, not long after the release of the second single ‘High Rise Living’, Chelsea played their “farewell” gig on October 6th 1977 at The Roxy.

As we all know “farewell” gigs are not to be taken seriously and in December Chelsea reformed as a five piece with rhythm guitarist Dave Martin, bassist Geoff Myles and drummer Steve J Jones joining October and Stevenson. Extensive gigging and the third single ‘Urban Kids’ was released before drummer Chris Bashford replaced Steve J Jones. In many peoples opinion the line up of October / Stevenson / Martin / Myles / Bashford is the definitive Chelsea.

The self titled first album was released in early 1979 and the band continued to tour extensively including U.K. dates supporting The Clash and another with The Police supporting them! They also made their first foray into the U.S. with an East Coast tour. As the first album contained none of the band’s singles a compilation of them was released as the second album. ‘Alternative Hits’ did also feature a couple of new tracks as well as drummer Bashford on the sleeve in typical rock and roll pose. This record became Chelsea’s first U.S. release and renamed ‘No Escape’ for that territory.

This line up’s final show was at London’s Notre Dame Hall on May 2nd 1980. They’d actually been together for two years! Sting got up and guested on a few numbers. James Stevenson, after playing on Charlie Harper’s debut solo single ‘Barmy London Army’, ironically went on to join the final incarnation of Generation X. Dave Martin and Geoff Myles formed The Smart and as for Gene he did what he’d done before – recruited a new Chelsea line up and took it back out on the road.

A temporary line up still featuring drummer Chris Bashford toured America later in 1980 during which their appearance in “Urgh! A Music War” was shot. Then in December 1980 the band split leaving Gene, once again, to rebuild and relaunch Chelsea. Having produced some of Punk’s finest moments such as the single ‘Right To Work’ and the self titled debut LP it seemed to many as though Chelsea’s finest days had gone. But Gene had other ideas and over the next three years came up with some of the band’s strongest and most enduring material.

A new Chelsea line up featuring drummer Sol Mintz, bassist Tim Griffin and guitarists Stephen Corfield and Nic Austin debuted in January 1981. Austin became a strong song writing partner for Gene as aired on ‘Rocking Horse’ the line up’s first single and Chelsea’s first for over a year. The band was reduced to a four piece following the departure of Corfield and Griffin was replaced in September 1981 by Paul “Linc”. A gig at London’s Fulham Greyhound once again featured Sting guesting as Griffin left the day before the show.

1982 saw continuous gigging and the release of the third album ‘Evacuate’ which gained substantial critical acclaim – a first for Chelsea.

Fight The Fright / In Nature / Storm / Syndicate / Windows / Delay

Ghetto / Unanswered Prayers / Mercury / Cancer / Career Mother / One Born Every Day

Uploaded today is the debut LP by The Wall. An LP I have not heard for decades, nice to get the vinyl back on the turntable after all these years. The Wall were right up there with Gene October’s Chelsea in my opinion.

I am very much indebted to ex Apostles member, Andy Martin now performing in UNIT, for kindly writing the huge detailed biography and discography of  The Wall below. Thanks for putting so much effort into the text and sending it over to me Andy…It must have taken ages!

R.I.P Ian Lowery

The Wall

Formed in Sunderland in late 1977, The Wall were presumably just another bunch of young hopefuls who climbed on the clumsy calliope called punk rock that by this time was already beginning to lapse into terminal decay. However, when they recorded 3 tracks for a proposed single, independent record company Small Wonder (based in Hoe Street, Walthamstow) financed its release to the public. To his credit, Pete Stennett, the proprietor of Small Wonder, rarely issued normal punk rock acts on his little label such as The Cravats, The Proles and poet Patrick Fitzgerald; he generally preferred to select outfits that revealed unusual or at least original elements in their work.

When Lowery and Griffiths elected to move to London to secure a more stable situation for the band, Hammond and Archibald chose to remain in Sunderland. When the remnants of the group arrived in the capitol, they soon secured the services of Scottish drummer Rab Fae Beith who had previously played for an obscure outfit called The Pack who released 2 superb singles – Heathen coupled with Brave New Soldiers and King Of Kings coupled with Number 12. (Only the first disc features our Rab). After this they and their eccentric singer, Kirk Brandon, whose tedious histrionics quickly became irrelevant in a world where rock stars were no longer tolerated with unquestioning indulgence, vanished into oblivion – or formed trendy pop groups, which amounts to pretty much the same thing anyway.

The Singles

New Way. Uniforms. Suckers. 1978 – 4/10

Kiss The Mirror. Exchange. 1979 – 6/10

Ghetto. Another New Day. Mercury. 1980 – 8/10

Hobby For A Day. Redeemer. 8334. 1981 – 9/10

Remembrance. Hsi Nao. Hooligan Nights. 1981 – 10/10

Epitaph. New Rebel. Rewind. 1982 – 9/10

Plastic Smiles. Gumzy. Missing Presumed Dead. Victims Of Future Wars. 1982 – 9/10

Day Tripper. Castles. Animal Grip. When I’m Dancing. 1982 – 5/10

The Albums

Personal Troubles & Public Issues. 1980 – 8/10

Fight The Fright. Windows. In Nature. Storm. Delay. Ghetto. Mercury.

Unanswered Prayers. Cancer. Career Mother. 1 Born Every Day. Syndicate.

Dirges & Anthems. 1981-1982 – 10/10

Who Are You? Wunderkind. Money Whores. Nice To See You. Footsteps.

Epitaph. Chinese Whispers. Only Dreaming. Barriers. Petes’ Song. Walpurgis Nicht.

Tyburn. Everybody’s Ugly. English History. Anthem.

Day Tripper. 1982 – 7/10

Day Tripper. Hall Of Miracles. Castles. Growing Up. Animal Grip.

When I’m Dancing. Ceremony. Industrial Nightmare. Spirit Dance. Fun House.

The 1st Single.

This inauspicious start to the recorded career of The Wall contains music that is hardly memorable. Indeed there is little here to suggest the group merit further attention apart from lyrics that are a cut above the usual dross peddled by punk bands.

New Way. This ponderous dirge trundles along for nearly 4 minutes with precious few properties in its favour aside from its occasionally inspired lyric. ‘Work work work sets you free. If this is freedom, give me chains I can see.’

Uniforms. Set to deliberately moronic punk rock with every cliché firmly in position, this sarcastic rant emphasises the absurdity of punks and their obscenely expensive haute couture purchased in the Kings Road via an allowance from daddy. ‘Buy a new when the old one’s worn; everybody has to have a uniform!’

Suckers. Musically the strongest of the 3 tracks on offer here, this has a less acerbic lyric but its passionate plea to escape the rat race (I don’t want to be taken in, just like the suckers) teeters on the verge of pure cynicism and it anticipates the dark, angst ridden texts that would inform later songs, ballads and anthems.

Ian Lowery – vocals, guitar.

John Hammond – guitar.

Andy Griffiths – bass guitar, vocals.

Bruce Archibald – drums.

The 2nd Single.

This is the only single to feature just 2 tracks. In general the group made it a rule to feature 2 tracks on the ‘b’ side of every single they released. Issued by Small Wonder, the group were still caught in turmoil as their singer remained dissatisfied and soon departed to form a group called Ski Patrol who failed to generate much interest anywhere.

Kiss The Mirror. This untidy mess, while not about to set the Thames on fire, is still an improvement upon their previous work. Again the lyrics are superior to the music, a common facet of their oeuvre.

Exchange. Recognised as their first top rank song, this charges along in barely controlled frustrated rage complete with guitar feedback and thundering drum rolls. The music does adequate justice to the lyric which explodes the myth and mystery of what actually happens when a man and a woman have sex together. ‘All I wanted was someone to care for, an open heart. Is that so strange? When all is said and done, it’s just exchange.’ Probably the most cynical observation of prosaic life the group ever wrote, this was the ‘b’ side and yet remained easily the more popular of the pair.

Ian Lowery – vocals.

Nick Ward – guitar.

Andy Griffiths – bass guitar, vocals.

Rab Fae Beith – drums.

The 3rd Single.

Unusually for the group, 2 of the 3 pieces on this single also appear on the album. This was their first release on Fresh Records, an independent label who also issued records by The Dark. They were another pop group who, like The Wall, revealed themselves to be technically far superior musicians to almost any of their peers and whose ability to create highly intelligent and frequently amusing lyrics set them apart from all that is gross, base and deplorable in punk rock.

Ghetto. Images of barbed wire, concentration camps and prison court yards are all used as a grim analogy for the bleak and depressing lives lived by the inhabitants of equally bleak and depressing council estates throughout the land in this frantic scream from the gutters. Only the technical limitations of the singer occasionally mar this otherwise magnificent little anthem.

Another New Day. This is the song that was not included on the album and frankly it does not rank among their best work and yet it still manages to combine melodic tunefulness with a cynical lyric concerned with the ephemeral nature of love affairs.

Mercury. Perhaps their most overtly ecological lyric, this study of the causes and effects of mercury poisoning on villages and communities is covered with consummate aplomb over fast, frenetic music that delivers the punch required to render sufficient support the words demand.

1st Album – Personal Troubles & Public Issues.

Fresh Records evidently believed in the value of the group since they financed their 1st album in two different sleeves and a lyric sheet although vocalist Ivan Kelly generally sings with sufficient clarity for the words to be discerned.

Fight The Fright. Right from this first number the extreme limitations of singer Kelly become apparent. This proves to be problematic later in the album. The bass guitar melody is perhaps the most appealing aspect of this piece. Lyrically this shares much in common with ‘Private War’ by The Jam from their album Setting Sons.

Windows. Although this is one of the weaker tracks, this only applies to the music; the lyrics conform to the high standard usually set by the band. Here an observer expresses his envy and even jealousy of people with money and status.

In Nature. ‘Won’t you show me something in a vacuum that grows because ability may not determine your life?’ This is the slightly bizarre couplet with which this superb piece commences. It is a real rocker with some of the most powerful music on the album yet the text is actually a fragile commentary on the inability of a weak man to participate in a world of competitive greed and avarice.

Storm. ‘Find no shelter from the storm blow through me with the greatest of ease. Find no shelter in your arms compassion doesn’t cure the disease – in my mind.’ This curious study of the threat of mental illness is given a winderfully sympathetic treatment with gently rolling drums and sparkling guitar chords.

Delay. The rather weak and uninspired (but superbly played) music doesn’t hide an odd lyric about ‘an abandoned journey in the deleted zone’. Augmented guitar chords similar to those used by George Harrison (I jest not) add lustre to the song although the clumsy intonation of the singer is occasionally irritating.

Ghetto. The single ‘a’ side.

Mercury. The single ‘b’ side.

Unanswered Prayers. This is one of those gentle, reflective ballads at which the group excel. Although hardly profound in content, this brief study of a young woman at the end of her wits is remarkably effective, especially since it supported by music in total sympathy with its lyrical content.

Cancer. The longest track on the album, this has a deeply depressing lyric about a sufferer who chooses the freedom to chain smoke cigarettes despite the consequences. Again, the singing spoils the effect in places as Kelly forces out notes he can barely reach. Musically the ballad is superb with subtle guitar work (including the use of a reversed lead guitar, i.e. played backwards) and a subtle power that is only partially disguised by the restrained arrangement.

Career Mother. ‘On the wrong side of middle age; your prospects advance with wage. Into the office; you must show them who’s the boss. To hell with your husband because he was always a dead loss.’ More powerful, chnky rock music at its best accompanies this absolutely cynical observation of a woman who has grasped the yuppie mentality prevalent in Thatchers’ Britain at the cost of friends and family.

One Born Every Day. Covering similar lyrical territory to Suckers on the first single, this exploration of trends and fashions concentrates on the perpetrators rather than the followers. ‘There’s one born every day. Isn’t that what you used to say? You’re all full of nothing.’

Syndicate. The best of the intensely powerful rockers on offer here, this tale of paranoia told by a man on the run from a criminal gang (or, possibly, a multinational corporation – which usually amounts to the same entity) is not only a product of the 1980s but a sentiment that is still relevant today. ‘Just who will it benefit and who will it complicate? You want to give your notice. You’ve been working for the syndicate.’

After this album was recorded, Kelly was sacked after he attacked an innocent passer-by in the street for no apparent reason as the group walked to the studio to finish work on the project. Nick Ward also elected to leave the group for reasons that remain unclear.

Ivan Kelly – vocals.

Nick Ward – guitar.

Andy Griffiths – bass guitar, vocals.

Rab Fae Beith – drums.

The 4th Single.

Andy Forbes was recruited to replace Nick Ward and from here onwards, the group entered what may be referred to as their ‘classic period’ where virtually every track they recorded was either very good, excellent or truly magnificent. Recorded almost at the same time as their 5th single, this was their farewell to the last vestiges of punk rock as the marched boldly into an idiom based largely around highly individual pop music. Griffiths’ subtle use of keyboards to augment their sound is also a notable feature of this period in their musical career. This was also the last record by The Wall issued by Fresh Records.

Hobby For A Day. In 1981 there existed in Britain a genuine fear of nuclear holocaust with two highly unstable and politically naive people – Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher – who had immediate access to formidable arsenals of devastating weapons. Songs, ballads and anthems concerned with armies, militarism and war once again became as fashionable as they had been during the latter half of the 1960s. The American invasion of Vietnam had been substituted with conflicts in the Malvinos Islands, the Persian Gulf, Kosovo and Serbia. This anthem features some of the strongest music and most inspired lyrics the group ever recorded.

Redeemer. Although this song does not feature music of strength or originally equal to its 2 partners, the lyric more than compensates for this as Griffiths recites a bitter litany of observations on the limitations and foibles among the higher echelons of the medical profession.

8334. Of all their many songs, ballads and anthems, this remains the most enigmatic lyric they recorded. It appears to relate the worries and anxieties of an inmate in a prison shortly prior to release yet there are other references that render this reading problematic. The music is utterly superb – it is deceptively simple yet highly individual in character and structure, with a highly effective section in the middle for multiple guitars that march along in harmony over the kind of sad procession that became a prominent feature of the group.

The 5th Single.

In late 1981 the group signed to Polydor Records, the same major label who issued records by The Jam. Indeed virtually all their attention was lavished on this latter outfit while The Wall had to struggle even to earn for themselves a tiny amount of advertising space in any of the 3 major music papers at the time (The New Musical Express, Melody Maker and Sounds). Widely regarded as their best single, such an opinion is entirely justified since all 3 tracks are excellent, each in their own highly individual manner.

Remembrance. Remembrance is a short, angry and frenetic variant of the lyrical territory depicted with the slower paced, grumbling contemplation in Hobby For A Day. This furious anthem builds up a tremendous head of steam and virtually erupts into volcanic violence towards the end. It stands the test of time as a superb indictment of warfare although Griffiths is only barely able to give it the vocal power the text requires.

Hsi Nao. ‘Hsi Nao I see now…’ burbles the chorus in what is musically one of the most adventurous works they ever recorded. The use of keyboards combines superbly in this magnificent anthem that is by turns gentle, whimsical, powerful and raucous, replete with curious twists and turns as the music attempts to maintain a pace with the lyric which refers to the nefarious exploits of the CIA and its use of innocent people to act as puppets for its orders derived from the Pentagon.

Hooligan Nights. Beyond doubt one of the finest anthems the group ever recorded, this exploration of futility and street violence encountered by squatters in crumbling council estates forms part of a quintet of works that explore this territory. (The others are Epitaph, Anthem, Growing Up and Fun House.) Again the subtle use of keyboards adds lustre to this account of street life at its most grim, bleak and barbaric.

Andy Forbes – guitar.

Andy Griffiths – vocals, bass guitar, keyboards.

Rab Fae Beith – drums.

The 6th Single.

Toward the end of the year the group secured the services of a new bass guitarist, Claire Bidwell, who also proved herself a competent writer of music. Her technical prowess is instantly evident on all 3 tracks of this single. She is arguably the most proficient musician the group ever employed and certainly all the bass guitar work is highly proficient in every number on which she is featured. Griffiths could now concentrate not only on singing but also indulge himself in other instruments. It was this latter factor which informed so many of the more successful works recorded by the group during the next year. To regard this as the definitive format of the group is entirely vindicated by the results of their creative work.

Epitaph. Enter the saxophone for the first time on a recording by the group – played by Griffiths who by now had begun to explore an increasing array of instruments, regardless of his inability to play them with any degree of proficiency! The addition of a piano completes this venture into pure pop music with its subtle ska inflection, despite the bleak and harrowing nature of the text which describes a violent assault in the street upon an innocent victim. The apparent incongruity of such a text when set against music that is so innocuous it is almost bland serves to exaggerate the content of the words and emphasise their horror. This is clever stuff indeed but typically went largely unappreciated upon its release late in 1981. It was also included on the second album, one of the rare occasions when a track from a single was so used – this was possibly at the insistence of the record company.

New Rebel. It is tempting to presume that this lyric refers to Kirk Brandon, the blond, blue eyed pop star who desperately sought fame and fortune in each of the groups he formed after the demise of The Pack for whom he was the singer. However, surely this pounding, grumbling anthem seethes with a quiet rage against all such aspirants to public recognition in the ephemeral society of show business.

Rewind. This painfully succinct lyric about regret for past mistakes and stupidity is set to deliberately fast and furious music intended to evoke punk rock at its most cliché ridden. It offers a brief catalogue of all the various daft and ridiculous activities in which most of us have engaged and poignantly asks if we would prefer to be tape machines so we could rewind those moments of our lives and record them again in a more sensible manner. I can most emphatically identify with such a sentiment.

The 7th Single.

The album Dirges & Anthems is 53 minutes long, a generous contribution from a group aware that their primary fan base probably consisted of unemployed teenagers. As if this was insufficient, a further 12 minutes of music is provided by this single which was given away free with the album. The group insisted the record company adhered to this format even if it meant deducting the extra cost from their own profits. Compare this with, say, the progressive rock group Greenslade whose album Time & Tide clocks in at a little less than 30 minutes or label mates The Jam whose final album produced rather less than 32 minutes of music (and even then, 2 tracks were included that had already been issued as singles) yet both albums still cost the same price as this second album by The Wall. Value for money was important and their audience expressed their appreciation by purchasing the records dutifully so that each disc sold out within a year of its release.

Plastic Smiles. Because this 5 minute anthem alternates between hard rock and mock disco, replete with synthesiser and highly infectious chorus, I suggest had it been issued as a separate single it just might have stood a chance of attaining a respectable place in the pop music charts (not that such an accolade is any indication of artistic merit of course). ‘Everything is going to be all right as soon I get my plastic smile.’ Where Redeemer featured an external observer who commented on the medical profession, here the singer waits impatiently to be laid on the operating table ready for his plastic smile. This is a profoundly cynical assault on the empty hedonistic gestures of the yuppie generation in Thatchers’ Britain. ‘I could be like Gumzy Elbow soon as I get my plastic smile’ sings Griffiths toward the end of the piece which is explained on the following track.

Gumzy. Here we have a curious but highly enjoyable tribute to a chap called Gumzy Elbow who actually comprised the entire road crew for the band when they played live concerts. The piece is a short, humorous chant for solo voices unaccompanied by any instruments.

Missing, Presumed Dead. The Wall reveal a penchant for chugging, trundling mid paced rockers and this is no exception. The vocals are mixed too low on this piece so the words difficult to discern – a fatal error on any track by this group where the words are generally important and worthy of attention. The music is strong with a nice contrast between verses, choruses and brief highly melodic instrumental passages. What a crying shame then that it’s well nigh impossible to discover what on earth it’s all about!

Victims Of Future Wars. Because this piece is in a similar tempo and with similar music, it is easy to overlook both these excellent tracks on initial hearing. However, here the vocals are mixed properly and the superb words can be heard. The victims are tramps, drug addicts, homeless people and the dispossessed; the future wars are the succession of governments whose only concerns are military power and financial gain. This prescient ballad clearly anticipates the dreadful era of ‘New Labour’ with Tony Blair and his horrific policies designed to oppress working class people with a callous disregard for anyone who isn’t a new labour politician or a businessman (which is basically the same thing anyway). For once there is no hint of the spiteful cynicism that so frequently informs the lyrics; it has been abandoned in favour of a passionate paean to all those vulnerable people who are crushed by corporate despotism.

2nd Album – Dirges & Anthems.

Even the cover of this record heralds the probability that the contents may deserve our attention: a huge metal scaffold for an unknown building upon a bleak, black hill set against a turbulent Thomas Hardy sky just after sunset. Yet our initial encounter is one of perplexity – very few tracks leap out at us as being either highly memorable or even particularly impressive. It is the exceptions – Barriers, Nice To See You, Pete Song and Anthem – that persuade us to revisit the album a second time. Part of the problem is the sound quality: because each side of the album is over 25 minutes in duration, the music is quieter than normal records of rock music and the bass frequencies are subdued. If ever a recording urgently required being rescued by a decent CD reissue then this is it. Part of the problem is that the majority of the pieces are finely crafted pop songs that merit repeated listens in order to appreciate their true subtleties.

Who Are You? There is a slightly surreal edge to these words that reminds me of late period Wire except that here there is a message rather than pure artistic indulgence. The music is simple and direct (if not especially rousing) but it’s a respectable start to the album (unless, like me, you always listen to the 4 tracks on the single first). The use of multiple backing vocals and guitar counter melodies, always a strong feature of the group, are certainly in evidence here and they add colour to what might otherwise be a less than memorable number, at least on a musical level.

Wunderkind. This tempestuous rocker, musically reminiscent of some of the faster tracks on the first album, takes the subject matter of New Rebel and applies it to the dying embers of the punk scene. ‘I have found a new shepherd for the sheep to follow. I can see a new prophet telling old stories – wunderkind.’ There could be an actual person who inspired the lyric but who? Paul Weller, Billy Bragg, Penny Rimbaud or Wattie Buchan are all contenders but real motivation behind this assault on the adoration of pop stars is the audience rather than the heroes they choose to worship. Rarely has fully justified cynicism been so convincingly set to music.

Money Whores. Another fast and furious slice of heavy rock (with an effective use of the flattened 7th) provides an entirely appropriate accompaniment to this angry retort against the yuppie phenomenon that swept the nation during the 1980s when Thatcher encouraged everyone and their mother to make as much money as possible by any means necessary, regardless of the consequences. ‘Money whores – see them kneeling at your feet.’

Nice To See You. Anyone old enough to have cringed with embarrassment and disgust at The Generation Game, a genuinely offensive programme where gullible members of the public were encouraged to indulge their greed, will appreciate this absolutely superlative little rant which is scored only for voice and drums. Actual quotes of the clichés used in the programme by the truly odious presenter Bruce Forsyth are incorporated into the lyric which is a delicious assault on all that is risible in such shows.

Footsteps. This curious number addresses the social problem of the irrational fear of strangers which induces a state of paranoia that in turn often leads to violence. ‘No, no – there’s another shadow at the window. No, no – there’s another stranger at your door.’ The synthesiser makes its appearance here in an effective contrast to the constant patter of drums, themselves a deliberate imitation of the footsteps mentioned in the lyric. This is an excellent example of music written specifically to match the subject matter of the words. Toward the end, the tempo increases dramatically – presumably this represents the victim running from an imaginary assailant and is a highly effective culmination to a number that is not initially impressive but, in common with so many works by this group, needs to be heard more than once to appreciate the subtle skill of its writers.

Epitaph. This is the track previously issued on the single.

Chinese Whispers. Now we come to one of the more eccentric pieces on this collection. Written by Claire Bidwell, there are frequent references to pagodas, chop suey and origami – so she evidently elects not to make any distinction between Chinese and Japanese people which could ruffle a few feathers among far east listeners. ‘The tall pagodas they’re hiding in, hiding in their yellow skin, maybe it’s the zen that’s in. They change their words in innocence and we will never come to know original sin or the way to win at Chinese whispering.’ There’s a recurrent instrumental refrain that is strictly from Hollywood cliché ‘Chinaman’ music: I mean, come now, chaps, steady on. As a bizarre lyric set to gentle, interesting music it’s a winner – but as an exercise in race relations it’s a loser.

Only Dreaming. Here we have an odd juxtaposition – a frantic musical frolic that scampers along at mercurial speed behind a poignant, almost whimsical lyric that refers to unknown solders fighting anonymous wars, teenage dreams of violence and so forth but as dream images. This is the only musically weak track on the album and frankly it fails to do adequate justice to the interesting words. Griffiths compensates for the limitations of the music by singing this with considerable panache.

Barriers. A nostalgic, poignant introduction swiftly cascades into a heavy, rumbling march that provides the basis for one of the strongest, most powerful lyrics the group ever wrote. The plangent sentiments are relevant to every isolated soul who has ever occupied a bedsit in hell. God knows how many lonely teenagers must have identified with this anthem when they heard it. ‘The evenings are the worst time. In your free time you spend time building barriers around you. So you sit in your small room building barriers around you, never trusting anyone ever again. Isolation, you’re all alone now. Living in your head with the old times, the good times, you’re only 17 you should have just begun but the barriers, you hold them down now.’ Of all the works they composed, this is the one that most effectively reaches out and touches the audience because it clearly reveals that the writers genuinely comprehend and appreciate the meaning behind its sentiments.

Pete’s Song. One of the very best pieces the group ever recorded, this is a purely instrumental work that features a violin in addition to the guitars, bass guitar and drums. The player is not credited but is likely to be either Claire Bidwell or Andy Griffiths since the group hardly ever invoked the services of session musicians. It’s odd how often bass guitarists also double on violin. This takes an odd harmonic turn for its middle sections in which the violin is silent and thus adds to the drama. It really is a truly remarkable effort from the group. The dedication is probably to Pete Wilson who was the producer of the record.

Walpurgis Nicht. The synthesiser is prominent on this highly disturbing anthem which is ostensibly about the vivisection of animals for research into cosmetics but later in the piece the analogy is made to battery humans being used as a substitute. Only toward the end do we discover the whole work is actually an attack on the torture and abuse of ordinary people by religious fanatics. ‘Walpurgis Nacht’s here again in British towns tonight.’ The fractured use of unrelated keys for the bridge sections accentuates the drama and emphasises the uncomfortable disquiet posed by the words. At over 6 minutes this is the longest work the group ever recorded and it’s duration is entirely justified both by the lyrical subject matter and by its musical substance. The title is a pun, for the substitution of ‘nicht’ (German for ‘not’) for ‘nacht’ (German for ‘night’) provides a clue to the content of the lyric.

Tyburn. This number was originally written by Rab Fae Beith in 1979 for The Pack although it was never recorded by that group. It is related to Walpurgis Nicht but only in terms of its lyric. The music owes a (mercifully small) debt to punk rock but in this arrangement it emanates a power derived more from power pop than its moronic safety pinned cousin. The aggression in the music is a formal requirement of the fury inherent in the words.

Everybody’s Ugly. A saxophone refrain punctuates this spiky, grumbling hybrid of hard rock and pure pop. Once again the music totally matches the content of the words which contain the couplet ‘Everybody’s ugly now and then. They show a part that’s usually kept in. Everybody’s not themselves sometimes. The blacker side takes control sometimes.’ It’s hardly first rate poetry of course yet its power derives from the juxtaposition of music and text to form a powerful statement about beauty and behaviour. This is easily one of the strongest tracks the group have recorded.

English History. ‘In the name of British justice…come with me on a journey through English history.’ Related to both Walpurgis Nicht and Tyburn, this piece is a powerful and deeply moving account of the brutality, recorded in blood and pain, of what English law actually means to ordinary working class people. The use of the major 9th during the chorus accentuates the expression of outrage inherent in the text. My only criticism – if one is necessary – is that, even at over 4 minutes, the work is still too brief. The work ends with an instrumental ritornello as if to suggest that the subject matter is too painful for any further words to be sung.

Anthem. Here we have a contender for the award of ‘best work by The Wall’. Written by Rab Fae Beith, it includes a prominent part for a recorder as well as the usual ensemble. The synthesiser enters later in imitation of bagpipes. Actually, the piece is quite evidently inspired by an earlier work from another Scottish outfit, The Sensational Alex Harvey Band. They also recorded a work called Anthem in 1974 except that there the music was weak and the words were utter nonsense. In The Wall version, the melody is highly memorable and the words are absolutely superb. Only the structure is similar – a sparse accompaniment underneath a strident vocal after which other instruments enter to build up gradually to a glorious crescendo which cuts off to leave a solo snare drum that beats a tattoo to end one of the most original, exciting and interesting albums of the decade.

Andy Griffiths – vocals, saxophone, keyboards.

Andy Forbes – guitar.

Claire Bidwell – bass guitar, violin.

Rab Fae Beith – drums, recorder.

The 8th Single.

After the magnificent second album was recorded both Andy Forbes and Claire Bidwell departed from the group. Undaunted, Griffiths and our Rab elected to soldier bravely on with the instruments shared between the pair of them in order to record one last album of pieces. Live concerts were obviously no longer an option at this stage. This 8th single was evidently released as a sampler for the forthcoming album so it is rather odd that of the 4 tracks, only 2 of the stronger works were selected for it. Both this single and the final album were released by No Future Records, an independent label who specialised in moronic, dreadful and dire punk groups of dubious political intent who were generally handicapped by an absence of ability or intelligence. Records by The Wall (recognised as the intelligent and astute face of post-punk music) being released by this outfit thus constituted one of the most incongruous business relationships conceivable.

Day Tripper. Quite why the group elected to record a version of this daft song by The Beatles is beyond me. In any case, while I prefer Andy Griffiths as a singer, technically the guitar playing is simply insufficient to meet the requirements of the song itself.

Animal Grip. The pounding, ponderous music complete with rumbling drums and inspired guitar work make this potentially one of the more memorable tracks, especially with the use of curious vocal effects and a lyric that could be lifted straight from H P Lovecraft or Edgar Allan Poe. Indeed Griffiths proves himself a highly inventive vocalist on this track and it’s a pity he didn’t let himself go wild in this manner more often.

Castles. Another sad procession, this march displays music that has neither the inspiration nor the originality to carry the words which in any case seem to have nothing of particular interest to reveal.

When I’m Dancing. This version of an obscure song by Slade is actually as good if not better than the original and was worth the effort. My only minor quibble is that the key used is slightly too high for Griffiths who occasionally has trouble reaching the highest notes. The harmonies are slightly altered and the order of the verses are changed but it’s a superbly memorable account of this delightful frolic.

3rd Album – Day Tripper.

What we have here is the last gasp of a group (well, a duo) that barely possesses sufficient material to justify a further album. To be brutally honest, it could have made a much more convincing impact had some of the tracks been omitted entirely. It would also have been an advantage to have secured the services of a proper guitarist since occasionally the technical limitations of the performers impinge upon the works. That said, there remains much to enjoy on this admittedly uneven set. With a couple of exceptions, the lyrics are as strong and as interesting as ever. The cover is a stark reminder, in blue and yellow, of that huge metal scaffold from the second album.

Day Tripper. This is taken unaltered from the single.

Hall Of Miracles. This track (along with Day Tripper and Castles) suggests that ideas and inspiration really had begun to evaporate by this stage since there is nothing special to recommend it at all.

Castles. This is taken unaltered from the single.

Growing Up. It is a pity the music to this anthem is so weak and uninspired because the lyric is superb. Here we have a study of a man who recalls the gang fights, daft arguments and petty crimes in which so many working class teenagers indulge (usually because there’s bugger all else to do) with a direct reference to Hooligan Nights. Very similar territory is covered by Epitaph and Anthem on the second album and more explicitly on Fun House in this album.

Animal Grip. This is taken unaltered from the single.

When I’m Dancing. This is taken unaltered from the single.

Ceremony. A grim procession with marching drums and deliberately limited harmonic language lends a convincing aspect of menace and barbarism to this account of an unholy marriage between a man and a machine.

Industrial Nightmare. A slightly atonal bass guitar melody runs through this study of a man enslaved by a factory and thus is directly related to Ceremony. Even the music is similar although here there are disjointed, fractured chord progressions that offer a musical analogue to the desperate frustration of the working man unable to escape from his predicament.

Spirit Dance. Suddenly we’re back in first rate territory in this cynical assault on quacks, shamans, witch doctors, herbalists and homeopathic charlatans (all of whom deserve nothing but contempt), supported by powerful music whose verses are in 7/4 metre. However, it’s a pity one of the guitars is quite noticeably slightly out of tune!

Fun House. The subject of childhood memories with their wistful remembrances of teenage misdemeanours and family eccentricities forms a frequent concern of the group as we have seen in Hooligan Nights, Epitaph, Anthem and Growing Up. This is one of the stronger tracks on the album and it makes an appropriate end to a project that received far more than its fair share of criticism and odium when it was issued in 1982.

Andy Griffiths – vocals, bass guitar.

Rab Fae Beith – guitar, drums.

From 1978 until 1982 The Wall produced 55 recorded examples of independent and often highly original pop music of a generally high calibre and a plethora of live concerts at which they usually excelled. True, the first single is nothing special but then that was recorded by what was virtually a different band anyway. Certainly all 3 tracks of the Remembrance single and the entire album Dirges & Anthems (including the free single) represent some of the very best pop music to be released during the 1980s in a decade when otherwise the quality of independent music was abysmal. Why then has this group remained all but forgotten in the history of alternative (i.e. not commercial) pop music? There are 3 main factors, all of which contributed to the absence of recognition and respect this group actually deserve.

First: at no time during their career did they ever have a strong singer with an original or distinctive voice. Second: they rarely recorded tracks that were immediately appealing or which grabbed the attention when first heard. Third: because they forged their own particular style, they were ‘not punk enough’ to earn the support of the bondage strap and glue bag brigade, they were ‘too rough and unpolished’ to gain acceptance by purveyors of pure pop and they were too conventional to be of any interest to the supporters of contemporaries such as The Lemon Kittens, Five Or Six and The Pop Group. Thus they fell upon a no mans land between the major musical factions that were fashionable at the time.

After their demise, only Rab Fae Beith continued to work in music for a while (he played drums for The UK Subs) before he abandoned music and set up a motorcycle shop instead. Of the other members I know nothing. To their credit, the record label that specialises in reissues of old punk rock and skinhead groups Captain Oi has released 1 CD of their early singles plus selected tracks from the 1st and 3rd albums but the ‘b’ sides of Hobby For A Day are absent and all the more adventurous tracks from the albums are omitted – ‘not punk enough’ evidently! To this day, all their best work (the collection recorded for Polydor) has still not been issued on CD. There is no website to celebrate their work. Perhaps my little review may help to compensate for this deplorable situation.

Andy Martin © 2010.

Lovelee Sweet Darlene / By The Danger In Your Eyes

On Another Rainy Sunday / We’re So Beautiful

The second 12″ single from My Bloody Valentine and the first release to start sounding like the My Bloody Valentine that would be damaging ears around venues in the U.K. a year or so later until the bands demise in the early 1990′s.  The first 12″ release ‘Geek’ on Fever Records can be heard on this site HERE but that earlier release does not sound like the My Bloody Valentine we all got to know at all. More like The Cramps!

The text below is ripped with love from mybloodyvalentine.net but the flyer is all mine mine mine! It logs the very first time I witnessed the mighty My Bloody Valentine live (supporting Thee Angels Ov Light = Psychic TV) at The Mankind Squat above Hackney Central station. I witnessed plenty more performances by My Bloody Valentine over the following few years, every gig for me was a special event. Great stuff, great band.

My Bloody Valentine have come a long way since their initial days in Dublin, both musically and in mileage. Their history is complicated, adventurous and partly forgotten by various band members. But these days, it all seems to have come together and all the sheer bloody mindedness of the band has paid off. Their own terms have been accepted, almost, and the results have been some of the most imaginative and original pop music of the past few years. Anyway, as the “great” Cecil B. De Milles might have said; “ere’s ‘ow they got there”.

A hazy memory reveals that Kevin and Colin both answered adverts placed by “some 12-year-old kid called Mark”. Here, they met for the first time whilst playing together in this corny punk band called The Complex. They both moved through a series of bands, including one with a Hothouse Flower and one called Life In A Day. All of which lasted about six months and played one or two gigs around Dublin.

Towards the end of ’83, Kevin and Colin brought together another band with Mark (surname unfortunately forgotten, but a different character from the 12-year-ol punk kid), and Dave Conway, who had answered an ad they had placed in a record shop window.

“It was a very loose line up really. We did some gigs with Mark, some with Steve and some with Adam.” Two people who fluctuated in and out of the line up. A hazy memory has eradicated any other info about them. “We were not really a proper band. We just did gigs and rehearsed occasionally. It was basically just noise. We had a park-studio to make up tapes and improvised around these”. This band lasted for the majority of ’84, although they split up twice with Steve, Adam and Mark being the interchangeable members.

At the end of ’84, they reformed again, but this time with a more serious approach being taken. Dave and Gavin Friday (Virgin Prunes) had been occasionally travelling around Europe and Dave had met a certain amount of people who had showed interest in My Bloody Valentine. Some of the tapes he had consequently sent had brought interest and a definite gig in Holland.

“We’d made quite a few different tapes really, in all about 20 songs which we’d recorded on a park-studio. Quite extreme stuff, some of it but it was the beginning of us writing ‘proper’ songs. We only had one copy and we gave it to a friend of ours to make the copies and he lost the tape. Really dumb story – dumb but true. All the stuff we were doing then was completely unserious. We weren’t doing it for any other reason except for the fact that we wanted to”.

“We only did one gig as a proper My Bloody Valentine ever in Dublin. Well, the one where we actually tried to write ‘proper’ songs and everything, and this was in the week before we went to Holland”. They recruited Tina, who was at the time Dave’s girlfriend, to fill out the bottom end of the sound as they didn’t have a bass player.

“We needed someone to play keyboards and stuff, Tina couldn’t play and instruments and the easiest thing was to play the Casio synthesizer, so she did”.

They adopted the name My Bloody Valentine for the gig, duly played and decided to move en masse to Holland. It was a question of “hell, let’s just do it”. The name had been Dave’s idea; “it seemed like some good words” was apparently the reason.

The arranged gig in Holland was played and they stayed on there. Within about a month however, due to no further activity for the band they were broke.

“We wound up completely poverty stricken in Amsterdam, living in a squat with literally only a few sandwiches left. At this time luckily, we were befriended by someone (again whose name has been forgotten) who organised a gig for us to play and somewhere right in the middle of Holland that we could live and was cheap to rent.

The gig money paid for a months rent and the financial crisis was also eased by the fact that Kevin had landed himself a job on a farm – “cleaning out the cows and cowsheds”.

They lasted three months in Holland due to their lack of success at acquiring gigs or visas that would make their stay legal. The police had started to hassle them about having the proper work stamps on their passports, so, in another upheaval, they decided to go to Berlin. They stayed in Berlin at a place called ‘the Cab’, which is like a community centre for bands, for a week, but after a fracas with the group Serious Drinking they moved to a youth hostel.

“It took a few weeks to really meet people; one of these was a guy by the name of Demitri. We thought he might be able to get us some gigs so we gave him the tape we’d made in Ireland, was still had it then, he was so impressed, he asked us if we wanted to do an album. He was connected with Dossier records (the people who recently re-released the insanely brilliant early Chrome LPs) and with the money he could get from them, wanted us to do an LP for his own label, Tycoon. We didn’t have enough songs for a full LP so we recorded a mini LP”.

“It was a really weird situation. We recorded the songs, designed the sleeves and that was it. He wouldn’t let us help mix it and we weren’t even allowed to listen to it until it was pressed, because the recorded tapes hadn’t been paid for. We signed a contract for it, a draft 800 were pressed, but we never received a penny for it. The record in question was called This Is Your Bloody Valentine”.

Released in January ’85, the 7-track mini LP was the beginning of things to come. The whole record comes with a Scientists/Doors feel to all the songs Forever And Again opens side one with a sleepy and moody type of feel and Kevin’s backing vocals, already a strong feature of the music. Don’t Cramp My Style, also on side one is far more up-tempo. Almost a kick ass rocker, with that now familiar howling feedback and the vocals almost buried. On side two the best track lurks, The Love Gong. A Scientists/Birthday Party type track supports some classic rock ‘n’ roll with sleaze/spitball type vocals. Also heard is Inferno, a much more off-beat hypnotic type song, again featuring a lot of the Valentine’s trademarks. The record however, suffers from some pro production and the songs don’t leap out at you like they should. However, the tunes are there and you have Colin’s distinctive drum style beginning to show, if you can ignore the hideous effects that have been mixed into his drum sound. It’s a pretty bloody good record all the same.

Unfortunately, the record didn’t break the band into the big time, and they were quite disappointed with it anyway. They played a small selection of gigs before deciding to call it a day in Europe. The record hadn’t come out as they expected and they were once more running out of money. “We were living off tax rebates which we fortunately got at different times, and off gig money. We shared all the cash we had and were basically in each other’s pockets all the time though we weren’t living together, we began to get on each other’s nerves. We’d been in Berlin for about four months and nothing seemed to be moving, so we did”.

“I think we’d expected that we were going to travel around Europe for ages, when we left, but we soon basically realised that after being here for eight or so months, eight months of other people’s generosity, that it’s one thing travelling around being poor but it’s another thing worrying about overstaying your welcome. We had to go somewhere we could be independent as a band and it’s impossible to do that when you’re travelling around”.

“When we’d left Dublin, we’d sold almost everything, bought cheap guitars, because we didn’t want the problems of transporting gear, and just went to Holland. Nobody took us seriously, they thought it was a joke and expected us to come home pretty swiftly after having failed to do what we’d set out to, so, if only for our pride, we couldn’t go back to Dublin, so we moved to London”.

“Berlin was extremely influential to us at the time we were there. We were completely influenced by the Birthday Party and the Scientists and we wanted to do something different which wasn’t a tried and tested move, much in the same way the Birthday Party had done. We found the situation there at the time totally incredible. The first Atonal Festival was taking place when we were there and everybody we knew was taking part or involved. We could see groups like Einsturzende Neubaten and other really quite experimental groups playing. These bands were doing well, were quite big, and weren’t doing commercial music at all. We admired these bands because they were succeeding without having to have big record controls. We figured, well if they cal do it on their own terms then so could we, especially as we’re not as extreme as some of these people. We worked to achieve something using the same approach and manner”.

So, mid ’85, they came to London, via a few gigs in Holland. Kevin became bored quickly and moved back to Dublin. However, Dave and Colin, after staying at Centre point homeless centre for two weeks, and Tina at the YWCA, found somewhere to live. Kevin came back from Ireland and he and Colin squatted a flat, Tine and Dave rented accommodation. To all intents and purposes, they’d split up, as the two parties had lost touch with each other and despondency had set in. But luckily, after not seeing each other for over a month, both parties discovered they were only living a few minutes from each other and the band was back on the warpath.

The next problem was to get a bass player, as Tina had bowed out. “She knew she wasn’t any good, when she joined and had only really come along to help out. We’d had a bass player for a week or so in Berlin and knew we had to find one here in London so we could continue”.

Debbie Goodge had been recommended to them by a friend in Berlin. They rang her up and invited her to a rehearsal. Debbie didn’t really join the band for this first six months, but she just kept going along to rehearsals that she could fit in, in between going to work. An early convert to the My Bloody Valentine ‘bloody mindedness’ approach. She’d only recently moved to London from the city of Bristol, where she’s played in a local Au Pairs type thing. The name, Bikini Mutants.

The Valentines were now rehearsing full time at Salem Studios. A rehearsal room/basement in Euston, a salubrious establishment run by the members of Kill Ugly Pop, a rock outfit who were playing around London at the time – August ’85 – and had their own label, Fever Records. Paul and Jools from K.U.P / Fever were impressed with the Valentines enough to offer to record a 12″ EP for Fever, as long as the Valentines financed it. A contract was duly signed, but the 5p offered, (no kidding) although reputedly thrown, at Kevin was not accepted. Debbie gave up her job, the EP Geek was recorded and the group began to gig around London for the first time since they’d arrived.

When Geek was released in December ’85, it actually received a review somewhere and the My Bloody Valentine name for the first time appeared in newspaper print. The EP itself is comparatively disappointing. The songs had improved greatly since the first but the production hadn’t. As early at the end of The Sandman Never Sleeps can you hear anything that approaches this, the rest of the EP sounds like a Hoover has been turned on next to the microphone. The drums and the vocals are excellent, so is the bass when audible and No Place To Go is the stand out track. Certainly in the current state of affairs – early 90′s – this could have charted on the strength of the song alone. However, due to lack of funds, no radio play, and very little printed matter, the record never really came into view. It had again turned out to be a major disappointment to the band, as again they never received any money from it and have no idea how many were printed.

It has to be understood, that Salem Studios was a strange place to rehearse, in so far as there existed a small community of bands who regularly used the place and for one reason or another there was a lot of supper time help between the people concerned. Everybody would go to each other’s gigs, and organise their own gigs with other Salem bands on the bill. These groups included Eight Living Lags (whom the Valentines supported at their last gig in London at the Enterprise pub in Chalk Farm). Kill Ugly Pop, A Deare, The Turncoats and The Stingrays was an early supporter of the Valentines. He would almost force some of his friends to go and was keen to help them gain gigs. Another helper was Tony, the guitarist from Meat Injection. He ran a club at the Enterprise, Chalk Farm, London, and was the first person to put them on regularly and give them gigs. At this point, the Valentines would have played anywhere, and they did, in every place in London that would book them.

However, for the group, everything was going too slowly. The record was ticking over, they were gigging quite often but nothing really seemed to change. Kevin was at this point thinking of giving up the band and moving to live with a part of his family who were in New York.

Another nefarious face now appears in the story, Joe Foster, one time TV Personality and associate of Creation Records wanted to start his own label – Kaleidoscope Records. Joe had seen My Bloody Valentine in Salem as he used to rehearse there and used members of Meat Injection and the Turncoats as his backing band. By these associations he became interested in the group and wanted to start his label off with them.

“We thought that we should do the record with him as this might make things get going a bit faster. We’d learned from our mistakes from Geek and our new songs were much stronger and we wanted to release them. He also offered to put some money into the recording. This was a first as far as we were concerned so we agreed to the deal, which involved Joe co-producing it. As it turned out, no-one really produced, certainly not Joe, although I think he did clap on one of the songs”.

The New Record By My Bloody Valentine was released in early ’86 to the same sort of appraisal that its predecessor had. Casual. The record itself is fabulous. All four songs were gloriously straightforward sixties styled pop songs, but so superior to their contemporaries of the time, who were also trying to do the same sort of thing, The Primitives, Soup Dragons, and Shop Assistants spring to mind. Colin’s calamitous drumming was here now. “He used to sound like bones being thrown at wooden stairs”. The Monkees type harmonies were in tune and complimentary to the whole sound and Kevin had almost the right balance in the guitars. Again, the record sounded slightly dulled and not as clean as it could have been but it was certainly the nearest the group had got to capturing that monstrous live sound.

By this time, My Bloody Valentine were gigging more than ever and were beginning to play outside of London more often. With the record selling slightly better than the last, their live following would improve, but not too much. Live, they were a sight to behold. The drummer’s winsome smile whilst flaying his arms around the kit was strange to behold. David would be twisting around the mike whilst doing some epileptic go-go dancer impressions. Kevin would be looking pissed off whilst doing some sort of ‘soft shoe shuffle’ between effects, pedals and two blazing loud amplifiers and there would be the stone-like bass player. Three of them (Kevin refused on grounds of good taste) would be wearing gold or silver lame tops, all their other clothes would be tight fitting black jeans and jackets. Their mop top Henry V haircuts all matched and it would appear that they might be interchangeable. One of the disappointing things from this period was that they never recorded Destination Ecstacy or their version of Mary Mary, the old Monkees standard. These were certainly always two of the highlights of any My Bloody Valentine gig. Both played at approximately 100 mph. Destination Ecstacy would not be amiss on any of their records, even now.

It must be also appreciated that there was considerable excitement focused on English Indie music at this time. Many of these bands who My Bloody Valentine would support would go on to huge critical acclaim, yet at this time, groups like the Wedding Present, That Petrol Emotion, Pop Will Eat Itself, Primal Scream etc were all playing at the same venues as My Bloody Valentine to approximately the same amount of people. These bands were lapped up by the press but My Bloody Valentine would scarcely get a mention. Few people seem to take them seriously. Maybe the clothes/haircuts, they were too loud and abrasive, maybe a lot of reasons but it did seem puzzling that in all forty songs on ‘C86″ that My Bloody Valentine were passed over. Even when bands who had only been together for two months were getting huge features in the music papers – Tallulah Gosh, Close Lobsters etc. In hindsight though, having seen the backlash that many of these bands received, it was probably lucky that My Bloody Valentine were not swept up in this.

“Things began to get faster for us at this point. The record with Joe had brought us better gigs. We even got some quite big support slots. It seems that we had a small following that came to all our gigs. They all seemed to be people that we knew which was pretty good. I remember Chris P. now of Silverfish was around then. We used to call him ‘the rock ‘n’ roll guy’ because he had a quiff and we didn’t know his name”.

“Joe Foster wanted to manage us as did three other people around that time. We didn’t actually say yes to any of them, we just let them run around and get gigs for us, which was pretty convenient. We also began working with gig agencies at this time, so we were playing almost all the time. One guy called Brian Hughes, worked for an agency called The Agency and he wanted to manage us. He kept telling us that we’d be up there with the Who in a couple of years but we ended up signing to an agency that was a little bit more down to earth.

Lazy Records was the next piece in this series of events. Lazy was run by the same people who managed The Primitives and they had wanted to put the previous Valentines record out, but My Bloody Valentine had decided to go with Joe Foster at the time because Foster seemed to offer a better deal and because My Bloody Valentine were wary and cautious about the character that ran Lazy.

“Joe didn’t want to release another record by us, I think because we hadn’t made any money on the last one, he didn’t want to put any more of his money into the next one. The deal Lazy offered was that we would pay for the recording and Lazy would pay for the promotion, and that’s what happened. It didn’t seem to be much but the record seemed to do all right.”

The Sunny Sunday Smile EP was duly recorded and released on 7″ and 12″. The four track EP contained the title track which was already being played live and the punchy Sylvie’s Head. This is undoubtedly the best record the Valentines did whilst still playing in this style. The record is better produced than previous ones and almost captures the impact that the group would occasionally have whilst performing their songs live. The songs were again simple and straightforward, but were just much better arranged and executed. This was released in February ’87.

The next few months were spent endlessly gigging around London and supporting the Soup Dragons. It was whilst supporting the Soup Dragons that Dave announced he was going to leave.

“We were going to say that Dave had died but he was ill, definitely ill. He has a stomach infection which meant he couldn’t eat very well. The travelling around doing gigs results in anybody not being able to eat properly or have the correct choice of food. This was constantly having an effect on him”.

“We were surprised at him leaving as well as having to face up to the fact that he was not in the band anymore. If anyone listens, they can tell the huge difference to the singing when Dave was in the band to what it is now. I think it’s because he was something that we weren’t. All the songs and lyrics that we did were composed entirely separately. We wrote the titles and music and Dave just filled in the words. I (Kevin) would write a melody, think up an idea to write about, give him a title and he’d fill in all the rest of the lyrics, most of which seemed to be quite perverse. It seemed to work really great, at the same time he wasn’t really doing what he wanted to do. Like he would have been just as happy to run around with his shirt off screaming”.

“None of us really like the records, Dave especially. A few things came out OK, but in general, in our minds it was crap. They would always seem to come out clinical and dull. None of these earlier records worked at all really, they were okay, but live, it was always so much better. It would sound a lot more free and heavy, and we could never get the guitar sound right like we did live. The records just sound thin. I think Dave was fed up with trying and never seeming to succeed at this, or get anywhere with the band as such. So along with these reasons and his health, he left. We haven’t seen him for ages and the last I heard that he had started to write a book, some teen-angst pulp novel style book, but I don’t know if he still is”.

“At this time, we were not involved at all with the indie scene as it existed then (’86-’87). There were two camps of music at this point, the funky weird pop group style or the twee jangly style. We didn’t fit into either side, neither from our haircuts, right down to the song titles. It was really case of parallel development from our point of view. Sure we were influenced by the current climate of things but we had no real interest in what other people were doing. We always made sure that the guitar would hurt people’s ears. That was important to us, because that was the whole perversity of it. We looked stupid, we were playing music like it was nice songs, but we were literally damaging people’s ears.”

Nick Brown 

New Town / Walkabout / Man Next Door / Life On Earth

I Heard It Through The Grapevine / Typical Girls /  Fade Away / In The Beginning There Was Rhythm / What Was It?

A boss platter uploaded tonight.

The Slits at the top of their game on a rare ‘official’ bootleg LP recorded during The Slits 1980 U.S. tour. Who said the band could not play their instruments? Certainly the rhythms are pretty damn tight on this recording.

Ari Up commented on a KYPP ‘The Pack’ post on August 2nd 2008 and stated the following:

Hello – Ari from The Slits here – just wanted to drop a note to tell you how impressive your site is.
I just spent two hours reading and bringing back some insane memories – your blog is spot on and one of the few sites on early punk that I just did not skim through. Me and my son just stumbled on to this site and glad we did!
With help from son – I know barely how to do a thing on computers – we are downloading lots of music I have not heard in years!
The Slits we soon be touring with Nina Hagen in Germany for a few gigs in the coming months.
Cheers for your excellent blog
Ari

A very interesting article care of the brilliant 3am website is also incorperated into this post.

A fresh batch of first hand views on the London punk scene and also a personal view on the heroin that flooded the streets of London in the late 1970′s from the interviewee, ex Slits bassist Tessa Pollit, who was using at that time.

Gregory Mario Whitfield interviews Tessa Pollitt of The Slits for the 3am site.

A chance link up with Richard Dudanski, ex Public Image and 101′ers drummer had in turn, connected me to Tessa Pollitt, ex Slits bass player. I knew that Richard Dudanski was close to members of The Slits and I was keen to be introduced. Though The Slits have rarely been as high profile as The Sex Pistols or The Clash, they were undeniably right there at the outset of punk music in London, back in 1976, and an integral part of that unfolding culture. If anyone is in a position to speak informatively about the conditions that created punk and the intensity of those years, Tessa Pollitt and other members of The Slits are.

The heat is quite intense, even though it’s late September, as I make my way through Ladbroke Grove on the way to ex Slits bassist Tessa Pollitt’s house.

Her road is busy: People argue, bargain, and exchange gossip on a Sunday afternoon. There is noise — the bustle of restaurants, street vendors, market people; different accents and languages collide with a collage of musical vibes. Moroccan music, Indian music, r’n'b, hard spiritual dubwise tunes, ragga, all fused into a tower of Babel of different sound and impressions.

This is Ladbroke Grove, with its characteristically dichotomous moods: inspiring, yet simultaneously chaotic. It’s a busy day. The tail end of a hot summer.

I knock on Tessa’s door and am met by a calm and unassuming lady, with what can only be described as a truly gentle and gracious manner. I enter her basement flat, stepping into the lounge. Hanging from the ceiling is a large punch bag. An array of martial arts weaponry adorns the walls or is arranged neatly on the floor and stacked in the corners of the room.

Propped against the wall is a battered and much played bass and amp. There is also a piano and pages and pages of sheet music. Stacked in piles and arranged in shelves are row upon row of old sound system dub tapes and piles of worn records and books, mostly about art, music and Oriental medicine, a subject Tessa has studied closely for many years now.

Adorning the walls are some elaborate and intriguing paintings: Some done by her daughter (from her relationship with punk funk bassist and early Rip Rig and Panic and early ONU Sound contributor, Sean Oliver), some by Tessa herself. Bold and disorienting spirals of black paint and 3 d creations of huge eyed naive faces peer out from the walls, impressionistic and powerful.

Tessa seems tranquil, with an almost otherworldly detachment, lack of guile and front. No subterfuge and assumed self importance. (A similar mood and impression I received from her long-term friend Don Letts when I had interviewed him exactly one year before.) No ego at work here. No ugly self-important personality. Relaxed and comfortable with herself, she makes me feel at ease.

Tessa’s daughter (who has all the fine-boned handsomeness of her father, the aforementioned Antiguan British dub funk punk bassist Sean Oliver) takes her leave and we begin talking. Tessa shows me piles of mid 70s sound system flyers she has collected over the years: “Jah Shaka, Zulu Warrior plays for all Kings and Princesses in Stamford Hill”, “Fatman inna sound clash with the legendary Coxsonne Sound”, “Ray Symbolic plays for all conscious people” exclaim the flyers. She tells me stories of the years between 1975 to 1979: The flux of change, the heat, the focused intensity, the chaos and creation vibration principle that inspired her to pick up her instrument and get involved. Her road from the garage punk of the early Slits’ raw nerve euphoric music to the resonant dread basslines she played for Adrian Sherwood and Dennis Bovell:

TP: Everything that went before our time, we just threw out the window. It wasn’t good enough for us. We were so disappointed in what went before. We weren’t from hippie stock. We hadn’t come up from that, had nothing to do with that. Our parents were from the post-war time. My parents separated when I was very young. I lived with my Mum in the city, but also spent some time with my Dad in the country. I grew up with that duality, close to nature yet being comfortable with the city.

3AM: What drew you to music in 1975/1976? Clearly, the path you and The Sex Pistols et al took was an unusual and extreme route to follow back then, except for those who didn’t fit into accepted structures.

TP: was always attracted to music. And painting: my grandfather had worked as a restorer for Holman Hunt, the Pre-Raphaelite artist. When Holman Hunt got older, his sight began to fade, and my grandfather acted as his restorer. All this influenced me as I was growing up, the duality of nature and the inner city and a constant backdrop of art and music.

3AM: Can you tell us about the early music you were listening to before you played with The Slits, and about how The Slits ultimately got together?

TP: I was 17 when I joined The Slits. Before I got into to early dub and sound system music, I listened to Lou Reed, Velvet Underground, Nico, other stuff I heard from my sister too. But even before joining The Slits, I had the rough beginning of a punk band together: we had a band called The Castrators, but even before we’d played any gigs, we had the News of The World knocking on our door! It was ridiculous, they were so keen to get the inside story on this all-girl punk group! We had barely played together! It was soon after that I met the rest of The Slits: Viv Albertine had already been hanging around with Keith Levene, Sid Vicious and the Flowers of Romance, and then we met up with Ari and Palmolive. Keith Levene is someone Viv Albertine knew very well, and they were very close. I really respected Keith Levene as a musician, and to be honest, in a way he made me feel inadequate because of his ability as a musician, his musicianship: Keith could really play. He used to play guitar a lot with Viv Albertine, and he played live with The Slits on a couple of occasions, guesting on guitar on tracks like “Man Next Door”.

(Recounting her early experiences with The Flowers of Romance to Jon Savage in England’s Dreaming, Viv Albertine, The Slits’ guitarist, remembers it this way: “Keith Levene and I used to work on a lot of sounds. We used to talk about guitars all the time. We had this thing called guitar depression. It was about being depressed from learning to play your instrument: how you try to feed your personality through it. This sound we got was quite trebly, like a buzz saw crossed with a wasp. It was just a matter of whacking all the treble up and distorting it. You had to be strict: there was no sign of a twelve bar in anything you did, except The Pistols. . . .” She goes on to say that The Flowers of Romance (who included Keith Levene, Sid Vicious and Viv Albertine) were “a bunch of interesting looking people so we’d get interviewed and we’d never done anything and could hardly play.”)

3AM: Can you tell us about your first concert together?

TP: There were so few female role models for us, and we felt that really, there was just something we had to do. There were so many limitations on women musicians that had to be broken. We didn’t want to be labelled or categorised at all. People like to label and categorise: it makes things so much easier for people doesn’t it? But we weren’t having any of it. A lot of people were disturbed or unsettled by us. We were too unpredictable, explosive even. But you know I wouldn’t like to say I was even a musician at that time. The first Slits gig we played, we played with The Clash. It was in Harlesden. I had only picked up the bass two weeks before. I wasn’t a musician. I was terrified, but you know I was just 17, and at that age you have so much energy and excitement in you, it carries you. I remember at one point onstage, me and Palmolive (The Slits’ drummer, now a member of a reclusive Christian sect) looked at each other in amazement as if to say “What the fuck are you doing?” We were all playing a different song from each other! But we got away with so much, and the audience didn’t care. The energy was what mattered. We were playing from our heart. Literally. With spirit. Our spirit was there.

Sniffin’ Glue, the up and coming fanzine of the time remembers it this way: “The Slits played their first gig at The Harlesden Coliseum supporting The Clash in March. . . . Their set was mad, noisy, chaotic, brilliant. . . . They were inspired but totally unrehearsed. . . . Bassist Tessa knew very few of the songs while the singer Ari Up, danced around screamin . . . like a wailing banshee. I’ve got to admit, they scared the shit out of me.”

3AM: Can you tell us about the infamous White Riot tour with The Clash?

TP: The White Riot tour with The Clash was the next major thing for The Slits: It was fantastic, and more than anything else, a lot of fun. Paul Simonon, Joe (Strummer) and Mick (Jones) were really a lot of fun to be with. But we were thrown out of so many places, different hotels. Even having The Slits spray painted on my bass guitar case meant we weren’t allowed into a lot of hotels. They just presumed we were going to smash the place up. It was madness. The Slits, Don Letts, The Clash — they just thought we were a whole heap of trouble. Don Letts was our manager at that time, as well as playing his roots and culture dub sounds before us and The Clash played our sets.

3AM: The early days of The Slits have a reputation for an atmosphere of fun, but also a mood of random chaos: How much of that reputation is accurate?

TP: Sometimes things got really intense: people ask if we were ever subjected to violence? Let me tell you, please document how many times we were harassed by people. It’s hard to count how many times. I remember one time, the Pistols were playing at The Screen on The Green, Islington. In the foyer, this guy came up to us, came up behind Ari Up and said, “So you’re The Slits? Well, Here’s a slit for you” and he just shoved a knife into her backside. Sliced her butt, quite literally, right there. Luckily for Ari, she was wearing so many layers of clothes, the damage was limited. It just seemed to others that we were asking for it. The vibe towards us was, “know your place woman”! It seemed that we couldn’t go anywhere without getting a reaction from people. The attitude was that we were asking for it, but we certainly weren’t asking anyone to come up behind us with a knife. Another time we went to a sound system blues dance as we did so often at that time, but on this one particular occasion I remember, someone took offence at what we were, how we looked, and chose to push a huge bass speaker stack right onto us. We just got out of the way in time. Women looking like we did, walking in with the rebel dread Don Letts, sometimes people just couldn’t accept it. You see, one thing I’d like to stress is, The Slits always had a sense of humour, a sense of the ridiculous, and some people just did not get it. They took it so seriously, and we got it in the neck.

The early Slits concerts have always been remembered as explosive events. Jon Savage recounts the following memory in England’s Dreaming: “Hostilities broke out . . . a concert played by Throbbing Gristle at The London Film Co-Op . . . ended in a pitched battle between the groups on stage and several members of The Slits and The Raincoats . . . the nihilist techniques of the age, whether inside Punk or out, fed back.” Nils Stevenson in his diaries of 1976 to 1979 (now published as Vacant: A Diary of The Punk Years) wrote this entry on 1st April 1977: “Nora’s daughter, the fourteen year old singer with The Slits, Ari Up, is a live one. Last night at the Roxy she attacked Paul Cook . . . (destroying) the jacket he had stolen from Malcolm. But I love the racket The Slits make . . . their gigs are as unpredictable as Ari’s mood swings . . . Don Letts is filming everything.”

3AM: Tessa, do these quotations from Nils Stevenson’s and John Savage’s books bring back any memories?

TP: Yes they do bring back memories. But Nils Stevensons’ memory is a little inaccurate! It was me who attacked Paul Cook, not Ari. I don’t know why, it was a kind of irrational act, and I attacked Paul Cook. I ruined his jacket! Cut a hole right through the back of it. Why did I do it? I don’t know. I was only seventeen. I didn’t realise he’d just stolen it from Malcolm McLaren that very day. (Laughs.)

3AM: Tell us more about touring and the audience response in those days.

TP: We toured a lot: in Italy the audiences threw roses at us in stage! Compare that with the early days in London when the spit from the audiences just rained on us. We were spat on from head to toe! My hair, the bass would be covered in it. I don’t know how that started. I think it was the early Pistols audiences who initiated it, but all of us hated it. It was disgusting, but the audiences thought that was what we wanted. It was their sign of appreciation! You couldn’t escape it. Sometimes we just walked off stage. I remember when we did the White Riot tour with The Clash, Joe Strummer caught hepatitis. I remember visiting poor old Joe in hospital.

3AM: How do you look back on those very early days of punk? Do you think history has reassessed or reinterpreted the reality of what happened to serve various people’s personal agendas?

TP: Punk to me wasn’t an American thing at all, it was a very British thing. According to so many people, it all started off when Malcolm McLaren went over to America and linked up with the New York Dolls, but punk is just a word. Punk would’ve happened anyway, whatever else you want to call it, whatever else it would have been called, it was inevitable. Malcolm McLaren has taken far too much credit for it. Punk would’ve happened anyway, there was a whole undercurrent going on, and something was about to explode back in 76. Something just had to explode. Punk is just another label, and I’d rather not be labelled with that name. It’s just another label. But as I said before, people like a label don’t they?

3AM: Which bands and personalities from that time really stand out for you?

TP: The only two bands who really stand out for me from that time were The Pistols and Subway Sect. I loved The Ramones too. It’s sad some of them have died now. I hear Dee Dee Ramone was an artist too. John Lydon used to draw too. Did you know that? I thought he was brilliant. He drew strange distorted faces, distorted images. I often wonder if he still paints. I admired John Lydon for his wit. Viv Albertine, and Ari (Up) were very close to Sid and The Pistols. As you know Ari Up is John Lydon’s stepdaughter, because he ended up marrying Nora, Ari’s mum.

3AM: What are your personal memories of Sid Vicious? How do you see what happened to him in retrospect?

TP: I feel upset when I read all the nonsense people write about Sid now. Sid was always one of my favourite people, always my favourite, and he was a gentle soul. Him and John just really complemented each other. I think of Sid as very gentle, and now I see he was a victim, a victim of Malcolm McLaren, a victim of Nancy Spungen too. Nancy travelled around with us on one of our tours. I just can’t put it into words what I think about Nancy! Sid was gentle, you know, and he was just used up in the end. To me he epitomised the spirit of what punk was, and he had a lot of humour! I’m always looking for humour in people, and looking into their intention. He was hilarious, like a kid, like a cartoon figure. He also had a vulnerability and naivety that I look for in people, something pure. He had that purity. Definitely. I think it deeply affected John to lose Sid as a friend. I’m sure of it.

In conversation with Julian Temple in the film/diary The Filth and The Fury John Lydon speaks of his closeness to Sid: “I feel guilty about Sid: I wish I could have told him more about what to expect. . . . Sid was my mate. A very very close mate. He just used to laugh at everything; a genius in that way. We did lots of mad things together. We used to busk together. Me with a violin, Sid with a tambourine, maybe a broken guitar!” Speaking of Sid’s demise on the American tour, Lydon stated, again to Julian Temple: “Steve Jones and Paul Cook flew around America with Malcolm McLaren. They didn’t want to be on the tour bus, cos they said they were bored with all the reggae I was playing. . . . The point is, Sid is my mate and I didn’t want him to be a junkie, this is why we travelled on the tour bus together, this is why Sid was to stick with me. He was far too young for that shit. . . . I feel nothing but grief, sorrow and sadness for Sid, to the point that if I really talk about it, I just burst into tears. He was someone I really cared for. I can’t be more honest than that. I’ve lost my friend. I couldn’t have changed it. I was too young. God, I wish I was smarter. You can look back on it and think, ‘I could have done something’. He died for fuck’s sake! And they just turned it into making money. How hilarious for them. Fucking cheek. I’ll hate them forever for doing that. You can’t get more evil than that, can you, you know? No respect. . . . Vicious? Poor sod!”.

3AM: What other types of music were you listening to at that time? Which other sounds influenced you?

TP: I was also listening to a lot of hard dub music, sound system music. Stereograph Sound System (U- Roy’s Sound System) were a huge influence. We used to go to the Bali High club in Streatham. Burning Spear were a very strong influence too. Augustus Pablo made music which is just timeless.. I loved Pharaoh Sanders, Charlie Mingus and Roland Kirk too. I remember being interested, because Roland Kirk could play two wind instruments at the same time! Don Letts had a massive selection of important sound system tapes from the mid to late 70′s which he used to give us. Don Letts introduced a whole new dimension to the early punk scene, and he influenced all of us. We owe him a lot. It wouldn’t have been very exciting at all if we’d only had those very early punk records to listen to. Don played us a lot of dub music down at The Roxy. We all used to go to sound system dances together all the time. Jah Shaka was an incredible experience. Live in session. We used to go to a lot of shebeens, blues parties: people used to take over an old house for the night, and just hold sound system dances all night. I really miss that in Ladbroke Grove. Play all night. Sound system. At night time now, it’s dead in comparison. Everything just goes dead, with security cameras everywhere. Everything feels like there is so much less soul in life now. There’s not the edge to life, the sense of risk and adventure. I listened to Big Youth and Keith Hudson’s music too: Intense music. Jamaica was, and still is a nucleus of so much talent, so much sheer poetry.

Speaking of this period to Kent Zimmermann in Lydon’s autobiography, No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs, Don Letts recounts the story from his perspective: “I thought the punks were just a bunch of crazy white people. I didn’t really tune into it. When I became the DJ (at The Roxy) and started meeting them, I picked up on what they were doing. . . . They liked me because I gave them access to Jamaican culture, and they turned me on to a culture that didn’t fucking exist before they came along. . . . John Lydon was a serious dude because there were very few people around during those times who gave off that aura. . . . I started taking him to reggae clubs. We went to a place called The Four Aces in Dalston, which is the heaviest reggae club in London. No white people went in there. The only white person in there was John, because I took him. Everybody left John alone. We black people had a respect for him because he came across as a real dude. He wasn’t created by the media. . . . He could walk into places white people could never go with total immunity. . . . We all felt like society’s outlaws. . . . John used to visit me in Forest Hill. . . . Jeannette (Lee), John, The Slits . . . Keith Levene, sitting around the apartment listening to reggae and burning spliffs.”

Lydon in turn, remembers meeting Don Letts for the first time: “Don and I first said hello and hung out after a Pistols gig at The Nashville. We went back to Forest Hill and spent the whole night rapping on about reggae. Don didn’t know, but it was the night I was frustrated and getting ready to quit the Pistols. Going to those reggae clubs gave me a lift”.

3AM: Did you ever play any unusual venues?

TP: We were always looking for weird offbeat places to play too: we wanted to play in prisons. We didn’t want to play ordinary venues. We played a kids’ school once! 5 pence entrance. The kids threw all kinds of things at us, gave us a hard time. We gave as good as we got though! (Laughs.) Don filmed it all on grainy rough super 8 film.

3AM: What was your relationship with the press and journalists at that time?

TP: Terrible. Absolutely terrible. The Slits always had a bad time with journalists because they all seemed boring, arrogant or ill at ease with us. We seemed to make them feel uncomfortable, and they asked us really boring questions. In the end, we just used to take the piss out of them, try to annoy them or wind them up. What else could we do when they seemed so poorly prepared, ill informed and nervous? If they hadn’t been so banal, we could have communicated with them, but they just used to ask us the most mundane questions like: “Oh, how long have you played together?” or something equally uninspiring. We were four crazy young girls, and of all the interesting questions they could have asked us, that’s the kind of thing they used to come up with!

3AM: You were obviously heavily influenced by other musical forms such as dub, and had no interest in standing still musically and in your attitudes to sound: how did The Slits link up with Adrian Sherwood’s ONU Sounds and Don Cherry?

TP: Later, we toured with Creation Rebel, Prince Hammer and Don Cherry. It was exciting and fresh to be working with those artists, and it really worked well. We all inspired each other,deeply. Neneh Cherry joined us before she joined Rip Rig and Panic (who were named after a Roland Kirk song). As for Bim Sherman, I loved what he was doing with Adrian Sherwood. I used to listen to him again and again and again. Tracks like “My Whole World”, “Love Forever” and “Revolution / World Of Dispensation”: I listened to the purity of that music all the time, or more specifically, what attracted me was the purity which was so evident in Bim Sherman’s voice.

3AM: Can you tell us more about the atmosphere, playing with ONU Sounds and Don Cherry?

TP: The concerts were fantastic, and that tour brought together so many different musical strands: punk, dub, avant garde jazz. Don’t forget, so many music forms were brought together out of that punk period. Reggae music just exploded in the late 70s. Big Youth, The Spear, it was incredible, all came forward at the time of punk. The concerts themselves were phenomenal on that Creation Rebel tour, and the audience could really feel something special was going on here, something fresh.

Adrian ONU Sherwood remembers that tour with fondness and humour, as is clear from his account in Beat Records: “Creation Rebel and Prince Hammer were invited to join The Slits on tour . . . also on the bill was jazz legend Don Cherry and his fifteen year old daughter Neneh. . . . During the tour, friendships were made (but) . . . the tour was crazy: Style Scott (Creation Rebel/Roots Radics / Dub Syndicate drummer) was rushed to hospital for acute appendicitis and missed the London show where Crucial Tony (Creation Rebel, now Ruff Cutt guitarist) tried to play drums in front of a sell out crowd at The Rainbow. It was truly anarchic. . . . (It was around this time) I played Ari Up “Fade Away” by Junior Byles and “Love Forever” by Bim Sherman, and she said, “Let’s record some tracks and call them New Age Steppers”. . . . When we started work in the studio, we had reggae, UK funk, free jazz musicians and an all round original cast in the studio”.

3AM: Tell us more about Don Cherry. He is such a legendary figure in avant-garde jazz circles due to his work with Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, but it isn’t common to read personal reminiscences about him and his character. It would be good to hear more about him from those that knew him and worked with him as you did.

TP: Playing with Don Cherry was an experience I won’t forget. It’s so sad he is dead now. I remember, the last time I saw him: we went to stay with him and Neneh in Spain. We all had so much regard for him because he came from that whole powerful jazz tradition. We went to see a flamenco performance. It was near a lake. It was just a small village. Neneh looked after him until his death. Don Cherry is the sort of person who would just say something so briefly and simply, but it would be so profound with insight and depth that it was something extraordinary. You would think about it for the rest of the week! Don Cherry had something of the eternal about him: it was like he would never grow old. He told us so much, so many stories. He told us stories about his closeness to Billie Holiday. Some not so good, or not so romantic: he used to score heroin for Billie.

Don Cherry touched many people throughout his life I think, and it shouldn’t be forgotten. Neneh was the link for us to connect to that whole tradition. Bruce Smith, her first husband played with us as a drummer, then Rip Rig and Panic, then he went on to work with John Lydon in PIL. The father of my daughter, Sean Oliver, also played with Rip Rig and Panic as well as working with Adrian Sherwood on some of the early ONU Sound recordings. He died of sickle cell anaemia about 12 years ago.

At this point of the interview Tessa becomes withdrawn, palpably introspective and sad: Private memories, and it is clear it is time to change the topic.

3AM: Tell us about The Slits’ work with Dennis Bovell, UK dub innovator.

TP: Working with Dennis Bovell was really a lot of fun! I think he had the same sense of humour as us. I think he just thought it was really fun to be playing with three crazy girls, and one guy, Budgie, who was playing drums with us at the time.

3AM: The Dennis Bovell tunes have a thundering bass resonance and percussive spaciousness and brightness which wasn’t present in The Slits’ sound before then. Which tracks stand out for you? The bass drop as it kicks in from the emptiness in the intro of “Grapevine” is phenomenal.

TP: On the album Cut, I love the groove and the bass line to “New Town” and our cover version of “I Heard it Through the Grapevine”. We wanted the bass to echo the melody of the tunes — as it did in the earlier Slits track “FM” — which for us was a hallmark of The Slits approach. Besides that, we all loved hypnotic dub bass lines. Dennis devised all kinds of dub sounds for those sessions: spoons dropping, glass shattering, matches shaking and being lit on “New Town” (sounds symbolic of drugs paraphanalia). I’d LOVE to work with Dennis Bovell again. He is a very talented artist. Every drummer we worked with was so powerful, from Palmolive (who was a real key part of what The Slits were all about) to Bruce Smith to Budgie. I hate the lack of soul and the rigidity of drum machines; the coldness and mechanical perfection of the sound. I love the qualities of roughness in music, a rawness which doesn’t seem present in a lot of music now.

3AM: Tell us about working with Adrian Sherwood and linking up with ONU Sound.

TP: “Man Next Door” with Adrian ONU Sound Sherwood was another good groove: Adrian brought one of the ONU Sound family to the recording session for the drum tracks, a guy called Cecil. I can’t remember which band he played with: Creation Rebel perhaps? I must stress one thing though: I’ve heard a rumour that some people think Creation Rebel played the rhythms on that track in its entirety: wrong! I can assure you, that track was played by me, Ari, Viv and Cecil, ok? No more rumours and inaccuracies! That song was played by The Slits, except for the drums! I have a lot of regard for Adrian Sherwood; the early stuff he did with The Slits as well as the Sean Oliver tracks. He gelled with us really well.

3AM: Tell us which bass styles attract you, and what vibrations feel natural for you as a bassist. Also, how did you decide which songs you were going to cover?

TP: I naturally have a dub groove to what I play — I seem to sit into the reggae off beat. I only like music that comes from the soul as opposed to manufactured business product that dares to call itself music. Popular pap: where is the message in that? Elastoplast for your soul. Constipated emotions spat out on the pavement. With “Man Next Door”, it was a tune I had loved for a long time, and we wanted to honour our influences. I don’t remember who chose it to cover or why, but it is a timeless classic tune that has been covered abundantly. There are so many versions of that song, from Dennis Brown to John Holt. The most recent one I recall is by Massive Attack with Horace Andy. (Huge respect to Massive Attack and Horace Andy!) We followed the Jamaican ethic of playing version, or even going back to an earlier jazz tradition where some melody from another person’s composition would come into your own song.

3AM: Can you talk to me about the later days of The Slits, and what happened when you parted ways?

TP: Well, there was never any significant internal struggle within The Slits. We all still get on very well. But, when The Slits were shutting down, I had a problem with heroin, and I have theories about it: it seems to me that London was flooded with heroin around the time punk was losing direction, and it seems to me to be too much of a coincidence. It almost felt to me as if there was a conspiracy to sedate people. London was just flooded with it, and a lot of us were affected by it. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. It’s just something that I feel. The tail end of punk saw the market swamped. Governments have done it in the past to quiet things down. Shove a load of drugs in, shut people up. I noticed so many people affected by it. Sid Vicious was affected by it, he died because of it. You have to be careful talking about heroin and the punk era. People romanticise it. There is nothing whatsoever that is romantic about heroin: it is medicine for those suffering a painful death. It has a history of sedative control in warfare too. A later manifestation of that government control would be the acid and ecstacy scene in the 80′s which left me cold, spooked me out, gave me a chill, and it was around that time that I lost interest in what was going on in London musically.

(Remembering his own struggle with addiction, Sid Vicious recounted his painful experience to Julian Temple on film, the rough footage now released in The Filth and The Fury: “The others just didn’t understand you know, they thought, ‘Oh, you can handle it!’ But dope sickness isn’t like that — it’s not just something you can just blow away. Dope sickness is the worst sickness you can ever imagine: You can’t get comfortable and you sweat. You’re boiling hot and you pour with sweat. Then all of a sudden you get the colds and the sweat turns to fucking ice on you. . . . You just can’t win. You lie down, that’s not comfortable. You sit up and that’s not comfortable: it drives you insane. . . . I don’t want to be a junkie for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be a junkie at all.”)

3AM: How did you overcome your addiction?

TP: I had to get through it, and look for my positive solution, my own way out. Martial arts really helped me. That’s what I do. I trained twice a week for years. I needed help, and a friend. Lloyd guided me to the martial arts club and it cured me due to the physical, mental and spiritual demands; the testing discipline of training. I still train all the time. I’m a black belt now, but a belt is just a mental block if one becomes attached to it as an ego attainment: I’m really just beginning. It took me seven years to get there, and It’s a lifetime commitment. In my mind, it’s a rhythm, it’s so connected to the physicality of music. I train with weaponry too, like swords, which means you have to be fully aware, because these are sharp instruments. You have to be fully aware. Music helped me too. When The Slits shut down, I went to Sudan: Khartoum and up to Ethiopia. Right after The Slits split up. When I came back from the deserts of Africa and back to the UK, I just started drawing, drawing a lot. I found there was so much that I wanted to express. Intense things I had experienced and seen.

(At this point of the interview, Tessa shows me her art works: dark, and undeniably powerful line drawings with an edge of folk art naivety of style. Almost like a strange and brooding combination of Dadaist cynic George Grosz, the comic art of Robert Crumb, and the sleeve designs of Fela Kuti.)

TP: I remember when The Slits toured in America; we hung out in Death Valley. We spent the night there. It was so silent, in the vastness of the desert. We hooked up with a Vietnam Vet. He just hung out with us. That was helter skelter territory, Charles Manson territory. I was always fascinated by the emptiness of the desert, the sense of space, the expanse. Deserts are otherworldly. That was what led me to Sudan after The Slits split up. Those days were so intense, so exciting. I think that, in a way, that was what led me to heroin too: to have so much excitement from such an early age (remember I started playing with The Slits when I was only seventeen) then suddenly, it’s all gone, and you are left with emptiness.

3AM: Can you tell me what else in your life has been a major influence on you as a person, has influenced what you are, and what you have become?

TP: Life itself has been an ongoing influence. Everything in life: nature, city nature, the sounds of trains; they’re all a movement, a rhythm, an intensity. Every noise. It’s part of our brain. Rhythm in the underground, rhythm when we walk. Animals influence me a lot too, the way they move, their behaviour. This takes me back to the unity of martial arts. Everything links up ultimately, and that’s the beauty of it. It cuts through all the other mundane bullshit you see and hear around you. There is rhythm in everything.

TV is bullshit. I never watch it. It’s mentally and physically draining. Watching TV just makes me think, from what is broadcast to us, how much is actually true? Ultimately, I’d rather not hear all the nonsense. I prefer the silence. I read a lot too, when I get the time: Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings has always been one of my favourite books. I also study human anatomy and reflexology. I adore the photography of Diane Arbus and Irving Penn. I love The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein.The distorted skull as a reminder of mortality in the foreground of the picture is extraordinary when you see the original painting.

3AM: You play piano now as well as bass?

TP: I’ve been enjoying playing classical piano music quite a lot for the last few years. Listening to Jacques Loussier playing Bach, backed by a double bass and a snare, is pretty amazing. I listen to Keith Jarrett and Erik Satie as well. I express myself a lot in writing too.

3AM: How does it feel to know now, in 2003, that you have influenced people: influenced what they grew up listening to, and knowing that for many people, bands like The Slits, Public Image and early ONU Sound led them from raw punk onto the path of dub, funk and avant-garde jazz? That was a major musical bridging point for many, many people, and The Slits were undeniably a part of that: when I interviewed Adrian Sherwood and explained to him that part of my musical journey from punk and onto other forms of music such as dub and jazz, was The Slits’ “Typical Girls”, “Man Next Door”, P,I,L’s Metal Box and very early ONU music, he replied with some conviction: “The tunes you mention are a really good lineage, a good pedigree, a good background to come up from.” It was clear to me from what he said (and the manner in which he said it) that his experiences and friendship with The Slits, and Lydon, Wobble and Levene’s Public Image were formative experiences for him, personally and musically.

TP: The Slits and the people we grew up with, it’s like we are all one extended family in a way. We are all part of one another’s history. All of us: Don Cherry is “related” to us through Neneh Cherry, our bond and our touring and work together. Adrian ONU Sound Sherwood is “related” to us through the music we produced together, and our tour with Creation Rebel. Whoever we are related to and for whatever reason, music is our common ground; music is a flight of the spirit, communicating through time and boundaries.

3AM: Any closing thoughts Tessa?

TP: Punk was about doing your thing, creating your own thing. It wasn’t about being a follower; it certainly wasn’t about being some kind of punk stereotype. It was about creating your own thing. When all the followers and cliched bands started, I just thought, “What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t what it’s about”. The Slits were never a punk band in the “follower” sense of the word. We always carved out our own path, strove for something fresh and new.

Kindest regards to Bradley Hall, a Stamford Hill punk from the late 1970s, who was present at a fair few of the gigs at most of the major London punk venues of the era, who is celebrating his birthday today.

Brad was also in two north London bands, The Defex and Sirius B, both bands I hope to upload onto  this site at some point soon.

Have a nice day Bradley.