My Life in Music, Part 2

My disillusionment with Pop/Rock lasted some time but in the late 90's I became aware of Indy music and decided it was time to try listening again. I was bought Shine 3 as a Christmas present. The tracks that stood out for me then were Marvellous by the Lightning Seeds, What do I do Now? by Sleeper and Angel Interceptor by Ash. Shortly after that I got Shine 1 and heard Green Day for the first time. It was probably the best Green Day track I could have heard for my first taste of modern punk, Welcome to Paradise. It was fresh, energetic and, most of all, punky. I loved it.

At roughly the same time, we got a Playstation 1 and bought Tony Hawk 2 for our son, Harry. This game had a great soundtrack including You by Bad Religion - again modern and punky. Every time I went into a games shop, I would hear this track. A Sega Dreamcast game would be on and the song started with a "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah..." I loved it and asked my son what the song was. I told him it was on the Crazy Taxi soundtrack and sang a bit of it. He told me it was by The Offspring, a West Coast punk band. He then borrowed the CD Ixnay on the Hombre from one of his friends for me. I made a tape of the CD and listened to it endlessly. My favourite tracks were Gone Away and Amazed.

My children were by now developing their own tastes in music. My son was tending further and further towards Metal and Prog and my older daughter was listening to Nu-Metal: Linkin Park, Slipknot, Rammstein, Limp Bizkit. I found myself liking songs like Wait and Bleed by Slipknot, Sonne by Rammstein, One Step Closer by Linkin Park and preferably as loud as my eardrums could take.

I had started going to gigs again. First off, it was Bob Dylan at the Sheffield Arena in 2000. I can remember waiting for him to come on stage but thinking that the longer it took for him to come on, the longer it would be before the gig ended and I really did not want it to end. He was fantastic even though he was nearly 60. My feet were freezing because we were sat in the Arena itself but I loved the gig. There was a good mix of people there too, from their late teens to late middle age.

In early 2003, I took my two daughters and two of their friends to see Inme. I tagged along because I was worried about the two girls, who were 14 and 12. I did not expect to like the band. I had heard a few of their songs, including Underdose, and had not been impressed. Inme were fantastic live and I had a great time. They managed to make so much noise for a 3-piece and the noise was good. I didn't even mind being the oldest person there. I felt alive again.

In 2004, went to see Yes at the MEN Arena with my husband, son and his friend. This was a similar experience to seeing Bob Dylan, although I did not know as many songs. Again, I really enjoyed myself but I realised that I far preferred the smaller venues.

I was now finally listening to Rock music again and I particularly liked The Foo Fighters. I first saw them on Kerrang! Television. It was the video for Big Me. Melody and humour in one video. I liked it. A little later, I saw The One from the Orange County soundtrack on the same TV Station. This time I was hooked. I think it was the tear falling down Dave Grohl's face at the end of the video that did it for me. I bought the single version of One By One because it had The One on it. It also had a great version of Danny Says by the Ramones. That Christmas I got All My Life by the Foo Fighters and Nirvana's Greatest Hits. I had already heard Smells Like Teen Spirit and Come As You Are but most of the rest of the tracks on the CD were completely new for me. It was like hearing a child playing really well in a school concert. These bands were the heirs to the music I had liked as a Teenager and they were worthy heirs indeed.

I continued to listen to what I considered to be modern music: At the Drive In, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and one of my favourites Alice in Chains. I also started listening to The Ramones and other bands from the past.


On 14 December 2005, I saw the Foo Fighters at the MEN Arena. I went with my older daughter, Charlie, her friend Emma and my friend and colleague, Natalie. I had rung the ticket line as soon as the tickets went on sale and had finally managed to get through 25 minutes later. All the standing tickets had gone and we were going to be right at the top of the 2nd tier of seats. I didn't mind, I was going to see my heroes live. The gig was fantastic, even though it was like watching Foo Fighter shaped ants performing miles away. A defining moment of the gig was when they went into The One and Charlie and I looked at each other and screamed. It was a miniature bonding session for the two of us. I spent over £100 in the merchandise shop too. I really do like the Foos.

In late 2005, I rediscovered Punk. We finally went online at home and suddenly a whole world was out there for me. I discovered that my old friends, The Straps, had reformed and were gigging again, mainly in London and the South East. The Buzzcocks and Stiff Little Fingers were still playing and I got tickets to see both bands. First it was The Buzzcocks at Manchester Academy. They were supported by Gear, who I thought were great. After that, it was Stiff Little Fingers at 53 Degrees in Preston, supported by Goldblade. I have written about Goldblade since but that gig was the beginning of my love affair with the band.

In August, I went to Wasted in Blackpool and saw bands I hadn't seen in years, including The UK Subs and finally, after many years, The Straps. Seeing the Straps on the Friday night was a really special moment for me, especially when Jock came out to the audience and shook hands with various members of the audience, including me. I saw bands I hadn't heard of too: Outl4w, a young 4 piece from around here, who are fabulous, Viva Las Vegas, who do punk Elvis Covers, Argy Bargy, Deadline and bands I had heard of but had not seen: 999, The Damned, The Cockney Rejects. I saw TV Smith play Gary Gilmore's Eyes on the acoustic stage (yes, they had an acoustic stage at Wasted). I met old friends, like Dave from the Straps, and new ones. It was a great time and a life-changing experience for me. I felt like my life had gone full circle.

After Wasted, I started going to gigs again. I have seen Goldblade 5 times now, which isn't bad for a space of 14 months. I have seen The Rejects again and Deadline, The Damned, Anti Nowhere League (who I missed at Wasted because they clashed with The Cockney Rejects), the Buzzcocks again and most recently, Goldblade and Anti Nowhere League in Amsterdam. I am going to Rebellion in Blackpool in August and hopefully Anti Nowhere League in Manchester in October.

This was the end of my original blog about my life in music but, as I said before, things have moved on. Last September, I went to see Kate Rusby, a folk singer, with my husband. She was very good indeed but I was in my second honeymoon period with punk and so it did not really register that strongly. In April this year, though, I joined a Border Morris Team. I have since soaked up folk music and tradition. Suddenly, my interest in Kate Rusby and old favourites like Steeleye Span has grown again. I haven't lost interest in punk at all - I keep saying I'm going to form a Punk Morris team - and I know it would work, the music would adapt so well to Morris dancing (it would have to be Border Morris, I couldn't imagine punks waving hankies around). Punk and Morris, that's me at the moment.

So that's my life in music. There is plenty I have left out, including Lindisfarne, Supertramp, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Dave Edmunds, Robert Palmer and many others. I frequently finish my blogs with a video and this one will be no exception. There is one video and one alone that I can possibly put on this blog and it is The One by The Foo Fighters. Enjoy.

My Life in Music, Part 1

A while ago, I posted a blog on one of my MySpace Profiles. It was an early effort but I was proud of it at the time. My original idea here, was to re-post it on this blog but then I thought better of it. My life has moved on in the intervening time and there is more music that is meaningful to me. I might even be able to do some cleverer stuff with this blog, for instance videos, so I decided to start from scratch, well scratch-ish.

So back to my earliest memories. I have really vague memories of a song called Arabella or Anabella but I have never been able to trace it, so it may be a figment of my childish imagination. I also seem to remember a song, which might have been sung by Frank Sinatra and had something to do with changing the world but again, I have been unable to trace it, despite feverish Google searches. If there is anybody out there who knows what I am on about, please put me out of my misery. I need to know what these songs are

The first songs I remember that I can positively identify are Blackberry Way by the Move and Daydream Believer by the Monkees. Daydream Believer was released in 1967, when I was four and Blackberry Way in 1968, when I was five. We owned 7" singles of both of them and I sang along to them from an early age. Our vinyl Blackberry Way was warped, which led to a rather strange warbling sound during the chorus. It would sound like Roy Wood was singing "Goodbye Blackberry Wa-a-a-a-a-a-ay", with the pitch wavering during the word "Way". For years I thought that that was how it was supposed to sound and even now my CD version sounds all wrong. Ah the delights of vinyl.

My father had a reel to reel tape recorder and he recorded a tape of practically all the Beatles songs. I was not particularly technophobic and the machine held no fears for me, so I would often play the tape for my own delectation and delight. I learnt most of the Beatles songs by heart and learnt to sing in harmony from singing along. I tended to prefer the earlier songs when I was younger and would favour that part of the tape. Now, this is embarrassing for me but I'm feeling a bit confessional at the moment. I used to have two dolls, cheap versions of Sindy or Barbie. I cut the hair on one and turned her into a boy (an early gender reassignment experiment for me). I used to enact I Saw Her Standing There with the two dolls (now, that wasn't so painful after all, was it? Well, actually, it was). Here are the lyrics. You will have to just imagine a young (7 or 8 year old) Punky Rennie with the two dolls. Just to help, he had short brown hair and she had blond hair and her head would come off very easily indeed.

Well, she was just 17,
You know what I mean,
And the way she looked was way beyond compare.
So how could I dance with another (ooh)
And I saw her standin' there.

Well she looked at me, and I, I could see
That before too long I'd fall in love with her.
She wouldn't dance with another (whooh)
And I saw her standin' there.

Chorus:Well, my heart went "boom"
When I crossed that room,
And I held her hand in mine...

Whoah, we danced through the night,
And we held each other tight,
And before too long I fell in love with her.
Now I'll never dance with another (whooh)
Since I saw her standing there

Guitar Solo

Chorus

Repeat last verse

Move on a few years and we come to Glam Rock. I would be between 7 and 12 or 13 when it was in its heyday. I did like Gary Glitter (few people will admit to that nowadays) and I loved Wizzard, The Sweet, Slade, Mud and Suzi Quatro. At the time, I did not like The Rubettes but I think I was too young to spot their tongues in their cheeks. I think the appeal of glam rock was that you could dance to it (even somebody as clumsy as me) and they were, or at least appeared to be, young and cool. My Mum was a very sensible woman, who bought me sensible shoes from Clarks, with heels no higher than ½ inch. I used to admire the likes of Brian Connolly, Gary Glitter and Dave Hill in their huge platforms and weird and wonderful clothes. Also men wearing make-up - that was brilliant.

When I was 10, I got to go to a Quaker Summer School in Sibford. I was the youngest one there. Most of the kids were 12 and above (I think 12 to 14 but I'm not sure now). One lad of 14 came over to talk to me on one of my first days there. He told me his name was Simon Tilley but I could call him Timon Silly, which amused me greatly. He asked me what sort of music I was into. At that point I could have said The Bay City Rollers but my two older sisters had spent about a week brainwashing me a couple of weeks earlier and I wanted to impress, so I said ELP. He was highly impressed. A 10 year old who likes Prog Rock - amazing. I actually knew very little ELP at all at the time and I don't know much now, either. The band did not interest me at all. The bands I do like, though, due to early sororal influence are Jethro Tull (specifically Aqualung), Procol Harum (specifically Exotic Birds and Fruit) and early Genesis.

The two songs that really remind me of that Summer School are Lay Down by the Strawbs and Life on Mars by David Bowie. I met a 12 year old boy at the Summer School and I got on very well with him. He wasn't bad looking too and we spent most of the week hanging around together, holding hands, me trying to persuade him to kiss me and him telling me we were too young. In the evening, there would be a disco and we would go and waltz around the dance floor madly to whatever song was playing at the time. The two songs above got played loads of times and they stuck with me for life. Bursting at the Seams by the Strawbs was the first proper album I ever bought and I got it not long after I had returned home from Sibford. A few years ago, I bought it on CD and I still listen to it from time to time and feel very proud of my 10 year old self for having such good taste in music. I never had a recording of Life on Mars for years but every now and again, I would hear it on radio or in a shop. It would take me back years. I eventually got a CD of David Bowie's greatest hits and then I felt it necessary to ration myself. I didn't want the song to lose its power and it hasn't done.

After Prog and Glam Rock and the Strawbs, it seems a very short jump indeed to my enduring musical love - Punk. My parents sent me to boarding school when I was 11. An unlikely place to find a punk. I remember the seminal moment for me when I realised it was my destiny to be a punk. Mum and Dad were taking me back to school after a half term break. I had found an old nappy pin while I was at home and for some reason, I had pinned it onto a woolly hat of my Mum's. I was wearing the hat and pin in the car when we were driving back to school and a car overtook us. In the car were 3 or 4 punks. They looked very sharp and spiky and they noticed me and suddenly the back window of the car they were in was full of grinning faces and pointing fingers - they had seen me and were evidently amused. It was my Road to Damascus moment and I decided then and there that I would be a punk.

My first Punk record was My Way by Sid Vicious. I was a bit of a late starter with Punk and missed the early years. I can't say in what order I bought my other records but I slowly built up a small but interesting collection of 7" singles, including Hybrid Kids EP, Where's Captain Kirk by Spizz Energy, I'm in Love with Margaret Thatcher by the Not Sensibles, Simon Templar by Splodgenessabounds, Girl on the Run by Honey Bane and various others.

I started going to gigs when I was 16. My first gig was John Cooper Clarke at the Marquee in Wardour Street. I later saw the UK Subs at the Music Machine supported by my great friends, The Straps, and an early precursor of New Romanticism, Martian Dance, who I hated. I saw Stiff Little Fingers, The Boys, Splodgenessabounds 3 times and The Straps another 2 times.

I used to go down the Kings Road most Saturdays and meet up with other punks there. I also used to stalk Jock, the lead singer of The Straps, an enterprise which was made easy for me because he worked at Boy - a punk boutique on the Kings Road. I got stopped by the police with a group of punks I was with one day. The boys were frisked by a couple of policemen and the girls were asked to turn out their pockets by a policewoman. I asked if I could go over and be frisked with the boys but she said no. A girl I was with had two wristwatches on. The policewoman seemed to think she had stolen one. She could not understand why she would wear two. One was broken anyway. It made perfect sense to me. If you were a punk, you wore weird combinations. I frequently wore:

Pink Leopardskin Trousers
A short Royal Stewart tartan kilt,
T-shirt
Woolly Stripy Jumper if it was cold
Leather biker jacket with Siouxsie Sioux' face tippexed on the back, UK Subs tippexed on the sleeves and loads of badges, including, I'm proud to say, a Morris team badge.
Hankie tied round my neck, western style
Black Beret

My hair would be either black, bleached or something in between. One day and for one day only, it was green.

For some reason, I became disillusioned with punk. I briefly flirted with the idea of being a skinhead and then I'm not sure what. I started going out with a Teddy Boy, though, and got my first taste of Rock'n'Roll.

I'd heard songs by Elvis Presley and could recognise Buddy Holly, The Everly Brothers and Bill Haley and his Comets. Pete introduced me to stuff I hadn't heard before, like Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, The Cascades, Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, Connie Booth and loads of others. We used to go to The Hampton Court Palace in The Elephant and Castle. Upstairs they would play music and people would dance - jive, bop, stroll. Downstairs, there was a pool table and the main part of the pub. Pete would take me upstairs and I'd join in the dancing as best I could. Downstairs, we'd play pool and inevitably, I would lose and get mad. One time, after I had lost a match, I threw my pool cue away from me in disgust. It hit a Hells Angel. He was a gentleman and handed it back to me and suggested that I hide it because I had broken it. It wasn't mine, you see, but the pub's.

Afterwards, I went to University and split with Pete. I now come to the most shameful part of my life, musically. I got into music that was, frankly, trendy. It was 1980's, self-concious, pretentious shite. Everybody wore cropped jeans, plimsolls and long baggy coats, including me. I must have looked an absolute prat. The music was mainly electronic. We used to go to a night club in Birmingham called the Powerhouse. You didn't have to wear smart clothes there and they played trendy music and also other post punk and some pre-punk music there. I danced to The Passenger by Iggy Pop there and Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo. Those were the better tunes. The shameful stuff is Matt Fretton, Blancmange, Wham (yes, Wham!!!) I shudder to even think of it. The trendies used to do a dance, where they would shuffle their feet slowly, all the time looking at the floor. I called it the dog-shit shuffle because they looked like they were checking their shoes. At the end of the night, they would play New York, New York by Frank Sinatra. I would always dance with my then boyfriend's good mate, Dave. The boyfriend is now, incidentally, my husband.

Sometime during the 80s I stopped liking Pop Music. The last record I remember liking was Rush Hour by Jane Wiedlin. Anything after that does not register. I started listening to Classical Music more and to Opera for the first time. For a while, I was a big fan. I preferred lighter stuff, like Bizet and Puccini. My first tastes of Opera were from the French film, Diva (featuring the skinhead who does not like anything "J'aime pas les ascenseurs" etc) which featured Ebben Ne Andro Lontana and from a Spitting Image version of the Pearl Fishers Duet.

I think I should stop here now. I had a look for a video of the Pearl Fishers Duet on YouTube but I found this offering by Jussi Bjorling instead. It is not a video, just a still photograph but his voice is so good that I decided to go with the photograph accompanied by some of the most beautiful music I know instead. Close your eyes and enjoy.

Tulips from Amsterdam - Saturday

The next morning, I was hungover. Sammy went out for a coffee and some breakfast and I got out of bed gingerly and showered. Then Sammy got back and showered herself and we hit Amsterdam. First, we went into a piercing/tattoo parlour where Sammy and I looked at belly bars and what not. I decided that I wanted to have my tragus pierced and I wanted it done there. First though we walked down to Central Station.

On our way there, we met some punks. One of them had an Anti Nowhere League t-shirt on and I complimented him on it. He returned the compliment about my Goldblade t-shirt and told me they were playing that night. I decided I would love to see Goldblade play and Sammy was fine with the idea because it was my treat after all.

First we went to the Sex Museum. I had wanted to do 2 things in Amsterdam. Smoke some dope and see a sex show. Sammy didn't fancy the sex show but she was kind enough to let me visit the museum instead. It was a strange collection of erotic, disturbing and sometime hilarious exhibits. Sammy took my photo outside it after we had been round. It had been an eye opener for me.



We then went to an Internet Cafe to look for Clog shops and I checked out exactly when Goldblade would be playing and where. I noticed that the Anti Nowhere League were playing straight after and I suggested we see both bands and then leave.

I then went back to the piercing shop to have my tragus pierced and Sammy went to look for clogs. The piercing was an interesting experience. It took about half a second and no anaesthetic was used. It didn't start to hurt straight away and when it did, I was sat in a coffee shop drinking smoothies and using a good analgesic for the pain (the analgesic also reduced my ability to text my sister with any speed but, then again, it reduced my ability to care about it.) Here's a picture of the coffee shop.


Sammy joined me some time later - at least 2 smoothies later. I finished off my drink and analgesic and while I was doing this, she went to a noodle place for her tea. I joined her there and sat down to eat my noodles.

We then started off in the direction of the Melkweg to go to see Goldblade, who were to start their set in about an hour's time. We stopped off at a bar to have a beer on the way and I watched Chelsea win the FA Cup on the television there.

After that, there was no stopping me and as we drew near, my heart was gladdened by the sight of punks and skinheads. We went and got our wristbands and went in. We went into the Old Room first and saw the last couple of songs of (I presume) Church of Confidence (I have since checked the running order – I had no idea who they were at the time).

We then went into the Max Room and I went straight to the front so I could get liberally showered with John Robb's sweat (it has magical properties, I can assure you). Their first song is arguably my favourite - "Fighting in the Dancehall, F***ing in the Street" and I screamed along at the top of my voice, pointed vigorously at the band and jumped up and down and generally danced like a loon.

Part way through the set, I turned round and saw my great friend Anna. She loves Goldblade and so do I. We gave each other a big hug and then set to the serious business of dancing to them. Various people had got up on stage and John, as he invariably does, invited some more girls onto the stage. Anna got up. I thought about it for all of 3 seconds and decided, what the hell. I may not have been a girl for about 30 years but I'm still female. I got a leg up from a couple of gentlemen just in front of the stage and there I was. On stage with one of my favourite bands. Wow!!!! At one point, the audience was lit up and I saw Sammy waving at me with a huge grin on her face. Here is a picture of my view from the back of the stage. Not very good but I'm not a particularly good photographer at the best of times...



That's John Robb's naked, sweaty back there so don't get too excited, ladies! Well, the rest of the set passed in a haze of exhilaration and complete star-struckness. After they had finished and I had had my big sweaty hug off John Robb (I'll never wash my t-shirt again!), I got down off the stage and found Sammy. We went out for a breath of fresh air and then back in to see the Anti Nowhere League.

As we were going back into the Max Room, I saw Charlie Harper. I did what any sensible woman would do and tried to persuade Sammy to have her photo taken with him (he's always there in the crowd at these dos). She was too shy though so I had to do the necessary! As you can see, the alcohol I had so far consumed plus the analgesic I had purchased at the coffee bar had had a bit of an effect on me. Charlie looks suitably embarrassed. I think I look a complete loon.



Then back in for Anti Nowhere League's set. The crowd were a little rough for my liking but I got right up against the stage and took the buffeting from drunken punks with particularly bad grace. Especially when one gave me whiplash (ouch!). There was a young Russian guy called Pavel in the crowd and he got up on stage with Animal. I took his picture and I've now e-mailed them to him. I think that really made his weekend.


When the band had finished, Pavel and I swapped e-mail addresses so I could send him the photos I had taken of him and Animal. Sammy and I then went off to the Red Light district. After walking through it and me marvelling at the girls in the shop windows, we saw a coffee shop and we went in for a drink and some more analgesic for me.

I think I finally managed to have one analgesic too many and Sammy had to get me back to the hotel after that. I can remember feeling completely dissociated from what was going on around me but finding the experience completely fascinating (although I would have preferred to have been able to shift for myself better). Sammy got me back successfully and I slept like a baby.

To be continued again...

Tulips from Amsterdam - Friday

On Friday 18 May I went on a weekend trip to Amsterdam with my great friend, Sammy the Shark. Sammy had booked this for me as a birthday treat and it was my first real trip abroad for 24 years. We were supposed to fly from Blackpool Airport but as we were checking in, a rep from the airline told us that we were going to be bussed to Manchester and fly from there because of essential maintenance on the aircraft. Not a particularly auspicious start but, as Sammy pointed out, Manchester Airport is a bit of an experience in itself.

More auspicious was the presence of a sizeable contigents of punks and I remembered that it was Rebellion weekend in Amsterdam. On the bus we were treated to free entertainment by Louis, a punk who was clearly drunk. Manchester Airport was big but, to be honest, I would have preferred the more hassle free Blackpool. The plane was small and I had no legroom but what the hell, the flight was only an hour long.

I was like a small child on the plane. I have flown before but it was 24 years ago. I spent a lot of the time looking out of the window in wide-eyed wonder and I thought take off was brilliant. I had a Stella during the flight and then read an interesting scientific magazine I had brought with me.

Schipol was fine. We went through passport control, got our baggage and then Sammy went out for a smoke. I sat inside guarding our bags. Then a double decker train to Central Station in Amsterdam (Wow! Whatever next!) and then a tram to our hotel. The hotel was gorgeous and here's a photo of it.


We got our key, took the luggage into the room and then hit Amsterdam. A couple of hours and a few lagers later, we were sat outside Cafe Nasty (the name really appealed to Sammy). I've even taken a snap of that one too.


We were approached by an extremely drunk Dutchman. After presumably ascertaining that we were not dangerous, knife-wielding psychopaths, he called his younger brother over and we were treated to the full force of his charm. His younger brother did not speak much English but then again, we did not speak any Dutch. They were in Amsterdam for the weekend with their 3 other brothers (their mother must have been a superheroine!) and while we were chatting to them, these brothers joined the party in dribs and drabs. I'm not absolutely sure but I think they were called Theo, Martin, Tony, Mike and Teus.

After a while, they went off to pastures new and Sammy and I headed off to another bar. Now, my memory is pretty hazy but I do remember chatting to a guy in a Motorhead T-Shirt in one bar where the doorman was as camp as a row of tents. The man in the t-shirt was from the east of Holland and the camp doorman kept strutting around speaking in german, which was hilarious. According to the gentleman in the t-shirt, he was taking the michael because he comes from a place very close to Germany. Sammy then proceeded to talk to them in fluent German. I sat there drinking my beer and not understanding much of what they said. After a while the bar closed and we set off to find another, still open, bar.

We ended up back at Cafe Nasty and Sammy went off to strut her stuff on the dance floor. I had drunken conversations with a number of people. Then Sammy hooked up with a young New Zealand woman (hooked up in a platonic way) and we wandered off to find a Coffee Shop which was still open. We didn't find one but we did find three young (very young, they were all in their 20s) brazilian gentlemen, one of whom took a real fancy to Sammy. For some reason I was feeling protective (or maybe jealous). He was really keen but they disappeared after a while, we didn't find a coffee shop and we eventually repaired to our hotel at about 5am. I was pretty pissed and very knackered.

To be continued...

Argy Bargy in Manchester, Punk, Skins and Mosh Pits

I went to see Argy Bargy on Friday. The first person I have to thank is my LSH (long suffering husband) because he persuaded me to leave my poor, ill little girl (okay, she's 16 and taller than me but she's still poor and ill) at home with him and go out and enjoy myself. I suppose I also ought to thank my poor ill little girl (previously blogged about under the name of Bobbie) for allowing me to leave her in the capable hands of her Dad when she was feeling so ill.

So I got a return ticket to Manchester and got on the train to Piccadilly by myself. I don't usually go to gigs on my own. I think my taste in Oi Punk is quite specialist and I could not find anybody in my immediate family or circle of friends who wanted to go. Fortunately, I did know a couple of people who were going to be there so I was reassured that I wasn't going to be completely isolated.

So I got off the train at Piccadilly and went out to where the taxi rank is. I knew the pub was opposite the train station and my older daughter had given me quite specific instructions on how to leave the station so I wouldn't be wandering around for ages asking people how to get to the pub. I checked the buildings immediately opposite the station and realised that the pub I was heading for is not quite opposite. In the distance, I could see a building that looked like the picture on the Net and I walked towards it. It was the Star and Garter, so I walked in and paid my £6 and went straight to the bar.

I got my half a Fosters and while I was being served, I looked around for familiar faces. I didn't want to stand around on my own like a complete lemon - that would have made me miserable. Fortunately, I spotted a couple of friendly faces I've seen before and I went over to talk to them. Once they realised I'd come on my own, they became knights in shiny armour (not very punk, I know, the armour should be tarnished and held together with safety pins) and took me under their wing.

We went up to see the first band, the Bullet Kings. When the gig was over and I was walking back to the station, I chatted to one of them. I'm pretty sure he was the bassist but I know I was quite pissed by then so I'm not absolutely certain. He did wear a UK Subs t-shirt, I know that. I asked him twice what the name of his band was and told him I'd blog about the gig. To my shame, I forgot almost immediately and I had to look it up before writing this blog.

Well, the Bullet Kings played good, fast, loud punk and I enjoyed the set. My KISA (Knights in Shiny Armour) bought me drinks and we chatted. If I remember rightly, I think I told one of the KISA that I love it when punks get old and fat - sorry! I was having a great time. I also went and bought myself a t-shirt (an Argy Bargy one) which has the words:

Argy Bargy
HOOLIBIRD

on it. This appealed to my inebriated self a great deal and I showed it off to all and sundry before putting it on. I hasten to add that it has continued to appeal to me since I sobered up yesterday and I will wear it with pride at every opportunity.

The next band were The Great St Louis and I can't blog about them because I didn't see them. I was too busy chatting to people in the bar and admiring their tattoos (an annoying habit I have). It's amazing how much time I can waste talking to complete strangers and admiring their tattoos once I've had a few beers.

3CR were great. I've got a picture of Boggy on my phone. I didn't know who he was when I took it. I was just admiring his mohican and decided to take a picture of it. I think I asked him first, I'm a polite sort of a person. Now I know who he is, I proudly show it off to all and sundry, interested or completely uninterested. Don't ask me to name any of their songs, I can't but I enjoyed the set and will catch them at the next opportunity.

Finally, Argy Bargy, the band I'd come to see. I largely ignored the Oi bands when I was a teenager. I knew a couple of Sham 69 songs and I like the UK Subs but much of the movement passed me by. I think it was a bit too hardcore for my young ears. Now, I love Oi. My taste in music has moved more to the extreme and the louder and harder it is, the better. I don't own any CDs by Argy Bargy so I can't mention individual songs (although I picked up the set list from the stage at the end of the gig and I will get some stuff on CD now) but I can say that I enjoyed myself enough to dance in the rather weird way I do dance to punk and stand on the edge of the mosh pit. I love the violence of the mosh pit too (that's a word I've had to import). It's a friendly sort of violence, people get knocked down but everybody helps them back to their feet, and I got soaked by someone's drink when he was pushed into me. Something quite sweet but not cider. Not good because my hair goes wavy when it gets wet. I moved right to the front at the end of the gig and that's when I picked up the set list.

Oi is credited with bringing punks and skinheads together. I remember an incident many years ago when my sister, one of our friends (a lad whose name escapes me now) and I were walking through Churchill Park in Bromley. We were all punks. Some skinheads attacked our friend and were really putting the boot in. Me and my sister shouted at them and pulled some of them off him. I was very scared at the time and I was pretty shocked too. It was the first time I saw anybody beaten up.

Later, I became good friends with a few skinheads, very good friends with one in particular, who used to walk me home late at night after gigs. I've never really been scared of skinheads, well not since my friend was beaten up, and nowadays I find the look very attractive indeed! I texted my good friend from the gig. The message said and I think this is word for word:

"I'm a bisexual. I like punx and skins."

Now, because I like doing it, here's a nice video of Argy Bargy singing "Read all about it".

Bobbie, Drunkeness, the Buzzcocks and Boredom

I am proud to announce that my youngest daughter takes after her Mum. I'm getting a bit old now so I like to get to bed early and get my eight hours so I was verging on pushing out the zeds last night when my husband came upstairs and told me that he had just received a call from one of Bobbie's friends. Bobbie was in a pub called the Crazy Muskrat or some such name and, more specifically, was in the toilets puking up and could we come and collect her?

Now, Hubby Dearest had had a few drinks and so we decided that I would have to do the driving and because I was still a bit groggy, he would accompany me. We got to the pub, he got out of the car and rang Bobbie's mobile. A few minutes later one of the girls emerged from the pub and spoke earnestly to my husband. Then our 16 year old daughter, Bobbie emerged arm first (that's what I saw first, anyway), slightly the worse for wear after 4 pints of Stella, followed by her 17 year old boyfriend, Raj.

Bobbie got in the back of the car with her Dad and snuggled up to him and Raj sat in the passenger seat and we took him home first. Then we took Bobbie home and she went to bed with a glass of water. She was a little bit hungover this morning but otherwise well enough. She's actually rather charming when she's drunk. A bit giggly and silly but still charming.

I got very drunk two weeks ago today but I didn't end up being sick or having to be brought home. It did mean, however, that I was hungover the next day and the hangover persisted until well into the evening. I went to see the Buzzcocks in Preston that night and I wouldn't recommend going to a gig with a hangover. It spoils it.

We saw three support bands. The first were not memorable at all. The second were called the Aclyrics and I enjoyed the set. The third were great. A young punk band called Middle Finger Salute. They have a loyal following, including a young and quite small skinhead called (if I remember rightly) Danny, who made a bit of a prat of himself directly in front of me. Still, he is young and was probably drunk so I'll make allowances for him. I usually make allowances for skinheads; I can't help myself. They (Middle Finger Salute) were pretty good. Good enough for me to go and buy the CD after their set and add them on MySpace and keep sending them messages. I will go and see them again. I really rather liked them (praise indeed from me!)

Then the Buzzcocks came on. I was still hungover and my feet were beginning to hurt (my docs are not the most comfortable boots I own) but nothing was going to spoil the main act for me. They played a lot of stuff I don't know but it was fine. I'm more a connoisseur of the classic Buzzcocks - Ever fallen in love, I don't mind, Orgasm Addict, Promises and, of course, my favourite, Boredom. They played most of the classics in the encore and in true Rennie style, every time they played one of these an expression of beatific rapture came over my face, I shut my eyes and bellowed the lyrics at the stage. Happiness indeed!

This put me in mind of a minor incident that took place at home a few years ago. The kids were still quite small back then and we still had a record player. I was playing some of my singles to the kids (building the foundations of good musical taste for later life - none of my children like R & B and other such rubbish) and, inevitably I suppose, I put my favourite Buzzcocks song on. The kids started bouncing up and down on the sofa and I told them to stop jumping up and down on it. At the time, I was in my punk wilderness years and trying desperately hard to be respectable. Then I realised to my horror what I had done and I told them to get back on and start jumping again. You can't keep an old punk down, can you?

Here's a video of them performing it in Blackburn recently. Buzzcocks and Boredom that is, not kids and sofa. Enjoy!

My life as a punk

Seeing as I chose to call myself Punky Rennie, I describe myself as a 40 something punk and I have blue streaks in my hair, I thought I would like to elaborate on my 30 year love affair with punk.

Please, never call me a punk rocker. It sounds all wrong. I don't even remember being a punkette either, although the term was widely used for female punks at the time … but I digress.

Let's go right back to the beginning. I was a 13 year old at boarding school and my parents were taking me back after one of the school holidays or half term breaks. I had decided to relieve my mum of one of her woolly hats and for some reason I had pinned a nappy pin to it. As we were toodling down the motorway (you could never do anything other than toodle in our car – a Hillman Husky), a car overtook us (again, not an uncommon occurrence). As the car drew level, a seminal moment in my life was approaching (probably at 70 mph although it could have been much slower as my father tended not to go above 40 or so).

In this other car were two or three punks. My memory is a little hazy with regard to numbers but there was definitely more than one. I am really not sure what they noticed but something about my person amused them and I would assume (and did then) that it was the nappy pin in my hat. They were close enough to have seen it. They laughed and pointed at me and at that moment, I knew it was my mission to become a punk. It was my Road to Damascus moment.

Becoming a punk was not that easy for a middle-class thirteen year old girl at boarding school and at first, I did not really embrace punk fully. I didn't really know how the music sounded although I had heard of the Sex Pistols (difficult not to in those days) and I had little or no idea of how to dress but, as punk spread out, even into the little market town where my school was situated, it became easier for me.

I first dyed my hair black when I was 15. The dye did not take well and it looked a bit purple but I didn't mind. That was punk, after all. I had had a perm (the last ditch attempt of my "normal" side to take control) and with it dyed black and a bit woolly, I claimed I was emulating Adam of Adam and the Ants. By then I was the proud owner of Young Parisians/Lady and almost certainly My Way by Sid Vicious. I have very few pictures of me from the punk era and all but 3 are on slides. I have, however, used one of me at 15 as my profile picture.

I read Sounds voraciously and once read an interview with Hugh Cornwell (then of the Stranglers). My semi-formed feminist feelings were incensed by what he said so I wrote to Sounds and also to him. Sounds never printed my letter (why should they have printed the incoherent ramblings of a 15 year old after all?) but Hugh (at least I think it was him) replied. He referred to the Stranglers as the Strangs and signed the letter Hugh Strangler. My little heart jumped when I read it and I was in his thrall permanently after that (I still am). I don't remember what he said, I must have been delirious when I read it for the first time and the second and the third and the fourth and the fifth…

I used to hang around in the local café (a wonderful place called The Mocha, still there the last time I visited the town). This café had a jukebox and the owner very thoughtfully put punk and new wave records in it. That way I was able to listen to Top of the Pops by the Rezillos, Holidays in the Sun by the Pistols and Denis by Blondie, to name but three. The punks from town used to hang out there too and I used to chat to them. There was one I fancied called Bobby. I used to sing Denis about him but I changed the words to "Bobbeee Bobbeee". Yes, slightly embarrassing to me nowadays. The poor lad really didn't seem to like me at all but was forced to "marry" me in a ceremony in the café when one of the older, bigger lads literally twisted his arm. I cringe at the thought nowadays. He refused to kiss me when we were married though.

I left school and the town at 16 and for the first time used Nestle Lite to bleach my hair. This was not particularly successful the first time and I ended up with patches of blonde, ginger, orange and light brown hair. I looked like a tortoiseshell cat had fallen asleep on my head but I was very pleased because it looked so punk. I also was wearing more and more punk clothing – altering jeans, tearing and vandalising t-shirts.

I bought my first pair of "proper" punk trousers from the Last Resort – a pair of pink leopard skins and a leather jacket second hand from somebody, I don't remember who now. I bought a kilt from a charity shop and was given Docs (again, I don't know by whom). The look was complete – pink leopard skins, a short kilt, a butchered t-shirt and a biker jacket with a picture of Siouxsie Sue in Tippex on the back, UK Subs written above and badges galore on the lapels. Marvellous!

I started seeing a boy of 15, my first boyfriend, and we went to see the UK Subs at the Music Machine. There were 2 support bands. The first was called the Straps. I thought they were absolutely fantastic and I was hooked. I recognised one of the Straps. He had played bass in a band that I had seen at my boarding school. Then another band called Martian Dance played. I remember them as a sort of precursor of New Romantic and I hated them. Then the Subs played and they were fantastic. Unfortunately, they came on after the last train left the nearest Tube Station and I thought we were not going to be able to stay to watch them. Fortunately, my boyfriend had been chatting to some lads and it turned out that they lived near me and had come in a van. We went home in the back of the van that night and saw the Subs.

I used to go down the Kings Road on a Saturday. You would meet punks from all over and we would just walk round, sit in the pubs, look in the shops and get searched by the police. That was a very good way to spend a Saturday. I remember once when we got stopped and searched. The lads got the full pat down the body treatment from the policemen. I had to empty my pockets for a policewoman. I was so disappointed; I really wanted the pat down the body business from the man. The girl with me had two watches and the policewoman thought that was really suspicious. It's a punk thing really, though. Perhaps not something an outsider would know.

I used to hang around in Boy, a punk shop on the Kings Road. Jock, the lead singer of the Straps worked there and I stalked him in a major way. The manager was called Charlie. I didn't like him at all. He was also the Straps' manager. Once, I sat with the Straps in a pub, discussing their most recent gig. They said that they had been awful but I refused to accept that. I just could not grasp the concept that the Straps could be bad. I fancied the drummer, Cliff, and finally ended up kissing him that day. Now I don't know what I saw in him but back then he was an Adonis to me.

Once I was in Seditionaries with my sister. We saw Billy Idol in there. We were behind a rack of clothes and saw him through them. My sister swears the conversation went something like this:

Sister 1 – "That man thinks he's Billy Idol."
Sister 2 – "That man is Billy Idol"
Sister 1 – "Let's get out of here, then. I hate Billy Idol."

Again, haziness of memory prevents me from verifying the accuracy of the dialogue but I do know that I didn't have much time for Billy Idol, we were rude about him in his hearing and we did leave the shop as soon as we saw him there.

I used to go to a pub in Croydon/Thornton Heath called The Star. Loads of punks (mainly underage) drank in there and it had a good jukebox. The only record I remember on it now is Love will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division – still a big favourite of mine. Sometimes bands played there and sometimes not.

Once I was sat outside in the beer garden with a group of local punks and there was a lad there who I didn't know. He called himself Germ and he was very nice indeed. When I saw somebody I fancied, I tended to go for him and Germ was no exception. He got the full treatment and even if he hadn't been a willing partner, I would probably have pinned him to the ground just so I could tickle his tonsils with my tongue. I had absolutely no shame back then.

Another time, in the Star, I saw Spodgenessabounds. They were another massive band for me. Max Splodge was a hero, Miles Flat a poor sap who broke his guitar string and got berated by Max while he changed it and Winston Forbes was a Keyboard Virtuoso (the keyboard part in Simon Templar is brilliant). They had the wonderful Baby Greensleeves who made such fantastic contributions including her part in "I've got lots of famous people hidden under the floorboards of my humble abode". You couldn't fault them.

At this gig were Dave, the Straps' guitarist and Steve Slack, then bass player for the UK Subs. I already knew Dave reasonably well and asked him to introduce me to Steve. They'd supported the Subs a few times and it seemed the obvious thing to do. Dave was not a Preux Chevalier at the time (he's improved since then, I can tell you) and he wouldn't do it so I had to go and introduce myself. I came out with the immortal line: "You don't know me but I'm famous, really." Corny or what? Fortunately, Steve was a gentleman and signed my jeans and we had a lovely chat. Later, I was hot so I removed the jeans. I had a large t-shirt on (punk t-shirts came in 2 sizes back then – XL and XL) and I used my dog lead (which went nicely with the dog collar I used to wear) to belt it so it looked like a mini dress. I went back to watch the band and Dave came up behind me and grabbed my leg. We both jumped. He was expecting me to be wearing jeans and I wasn't expecting him to get so intimate. He jumped higher than me – that's official.

I used to hang around with the Bromley Punks. We all used punk names (like Germ, mentioned above). There were Menace, Sparrow, Turtle, Spittle, Ellie and various others. One who I should give a special mention to was Groper. We didn't get on at all. We used to fight on the bus to and from Croydon and we fought in the Star. I never worked out what Groper had against me or for that matter what I had against him. We just didn't get on. Sparrow had pillar box red hair and Turtle's room was painted black. Menace was a cocky little bugger but I liked him. Ellie turned into a skin girl and went back to using her real name. I called myself Rene but everybody called me Rennie. My sister was Panda.

I should also mention the Coppice Skins, who used to walk me home from Bromley Common after I'd been to the Star. They would walk me through the Coppice Estate and occasionally one or two would take me all the way home. I remember my Dad being up when I got home with a couple of them once. Dad is incredibly cool and just sat and chatted to them. The thing about Skinheads is they do look very thuggish indeed but that didn't worry my Dad at all.

I fell for one of them hook, line and sinker. His real name was Paul but they all called him Big Ears because he had sticky out ears, which, of course, were accentuated by his shaved head. He was the one who took me all the way home on a few occasions and he was always there when I was being walked through the Coppice. Eventually (it seems to be inevitable with hindsight), I ended up kissing him before continuing home with my sister. His brother, who was not a skin, was with us and insisted on Paul sharing me with him so he got a look-in too. I wasn't too worried; there was plenty of me to go around.

Well, I think I've pretty well come to the end of this particular incoherent rambling. I was a punk for about 18 months and pretty rebellious during that time. I succumbed to the ultimate rebellion in the end and rebelled against punk. It was already becoming a bit too glamorous for my liking. Some punkettes' hair was getting too big and they were wearing heels and shit like that (my nose is wrinkling as I type this). It was time for a change so I went and bought myself a Fred Perry t-shirt, some red braces and retrieved some jeans that I had not butchered. I turned them up so they were just resting on the top of my 6 hole brown Docs, had my hair cut in a feather cut and became a Skin. Very briefly. I quickly realised that I could not afford the clobber but for a short while I felt wonderful. I saw Groper in Bromley and walked up to him and said Hello. I stopped calling myself Rene and went back to my proper name. After that I really don't remember what I did. I was a lost soul and never really recovered. (Not actually true. I had a fine time after but being a punk was superb.)

I always say that the best time of my life was when I was a punk. It was a fantastic time and I'm really glad I had those experiences. It's a time that I look back on fondly and I still smile when I think of those wonderful people, their wonderful haircuts and clothes and their great personalities.

Just a postscript to this. When I originally wrote this blog on another site I did not count myself as a punk. Since then I've realised never actually stopped being a punk, I merely went respectable for a while. I have now rediscovered my punk roots; my nose is repierced and I have blue streaks in my hair. My poor husband and children despair of me. I've even bought some Docs - second hand and black and white tartan but docs nevertheless. I love going to gigs and hanging around with punks and skins at them. I've rediscovered many of the bands I loved back then and found to my delight that getting older has not diminished the music's attraction for me. I also now realise that there were plenty of bands back then that I ignored that are fantastic and I'm really enjoying discovering them. In short, I've undergone a punk renaissance and I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.