The Spandau/Duran/BoyGeorge 80s largely passed me by on an alien track, as I belonged to a group of further-out bands and musicians who played the Universities and small-scale weird venues about Britain (and especially in Scotland).
The first gig Helen and the Horns did was the basement bar at Imperial College, where a mob of drunken mining students did a rowdy conga in front of us. They only went past us once, though, because as each drunken mining student passed me I booted him smartly up the bum while carrying on playing, and as the frontrunner approached for a second time I could see him computing that it wasn't a good idea to pass by me again!
We did an interview for the college radio that someone later sent to me (I was rather rude and arrogant), and were allowed to help ourselves from a shopping trolley packed with a massive quantity of Country and Western LPs.
We played a street party at a pub in West London with a dreadful P.A. system, all sunshine, excited children and hippy food.
We played for for Richard 'Stranger than Steve' Strange, in a basement in Mayfair, an after-hours sortuva gig. Yvette the Conqueror, a well-known transexual, appeared singing a Boystown track over a backing tape, dressed in figure-hugging flesh coloured lycra. A straight-looking man in a pale blue bri-nylon shirt sliced his chest to pieces with a razor blade to music. When it was our turn I realised we weren't quite burlesque enough for Richard and he stood with his back to us throughout our short set, talking loudly to a member of the audience.
I walked home to Kilburn that night with my guitar, past the prostitutes in Park Lane who smiled and nodded (I wasn't competition, not a person with a guitar), past the drunks in Maida Vale and on the Kilburn High Road, arriving back home at my bedsit in Willesden exhausted but buzzing with the idea of the different worlds music brings you into.
"buzzing with the idea of the different worlds music brings you into"
ReplyDeleteIs this still the situation? I feel this feeling - intangible though it is - ends up being eroded over the years, by the mundanity and everydayness of, er, everyday.
hi helen,
ReplyDeleteI saw you at one of those very 'weird' venues in scotland...
good to see you're still on the planet, and with a great blog to boot.
best wishes.
gordon.
was it a comment on the horror of bri-nylon?
ReplyDeleteWell.. Chimesey, there are lots of un-everyday musical experiences to be had at the bottom of the musical heap where I live!
ReplyDeleteNice to hear from you Gordon- where was that? Dundee (brass elephant-head railings round the bar and a stuffed bear), Dunfermline (fake palms everywhere), Edinburgh (church hall with rickety chairs)?
Phoebe: the bri-nylon shirt was definitely the most horrible part of the horror, and took a huge plunge into the psyche of a constantly unemployed young musician like me! I'd been locked in a room at the DHSS and harangued by a very similarly-dressed man only months before for not having a job and 'having and idea of myself as an artist in a garret' as Mr Palebluebrinylon put it!
hi helen,
ReplyDeletedundee it was! (can't remember the bear, though - are you sure it wasn't a member of the audience, dundonians can be unresponsive, motionless and more than a little hairy)
I also saw you in brightly-lit, barren and soul-less dundee nightclub (with more than its fair share of afore-mentioned dundonians!)
I'm now off to rescue my Chefs, Skat and Horns vinyl from my overstuffed loft (or it may be the overstuffed garage) I may be some time..
best wishes (to the horns too!)
gordon.