Gettitude – The Get and friends at The Railway Hotel

Sinister Chuckles

Luis Drayton

The Get

The one thing that the punk explosion did for me was to make me realise that I, too, could realise my musical aspirations. It allowed me, and many friends, a creative outlet. From approximately 1978 to the 1985 almost every friend I had was in a band, sometimes in more than one. Those heady days we wrote and played our own songs, wrote and appeared in fanzines, recorded and distributed our own music. It was amateurish, it was tremendous fun, it was hard work at times too, and for me it was many lonely hours writing words and mastering as many unusual chords as my fingers could wrap themselves around. There was a real sense of discovering. Ours was an embryonic indie scene, then called ‘alternative’, and we often arranged our own gigs in order to play.

Last night I want to The Gettitude Album Launch Party at the Railway Hotel, in Clifftown Road, Southend-on-Sea. I have known The Get since the very early 1980s (I even guested on stage with them at one gig), although I have not seen much of them in the intervening years. I went to many of their early gigs, and a number of their rehearsals too. I bought their tapes and the flexi-disc.

So, what of the gig? I turned up halfway through the first support act’s set. Crying Queerwolf is actually a very old and dear friend Stephen Dobson. Steve is someone I played in a band with for a while (Dr Pretorius and the Lazy Sluts) – I vaguely recall a musi-cassette and gig way back in either 1981 or 1982. Anyway, I hope it won’t offend Steve when I describe his stage presence today as being far camper than thirty years ago. His stuff is definitely an acquired taste, and certainly original. I was reminded of a cross between Quentin Crisp, William S. Burroughs, with a touch of electro-pop thrown in.

I enjoyed Sinister Chuckles very much. Their guitar work reminded me a lot of The Stooges. The sound was not good enough for me to make out the lyrics (my dodgy hearing doesn’t help either), but there was obvious humour. They were the best act on the night.

Luis Drayton was certainly unusual, and not really to my taste. His act was the most controversial I have ever seen, and in many ways it gave me the impression that this was a cover for little in the way of real artistic skill. I took a perverse interest in his performance, which left me wondering if the audience were voyeurs in his exhibitionist masturbatory act. Certainly Jim Morrison was arrested for far less. I am sure there is an audience for his output, and I am sure that this audience does not include me.

The main act, as I have already stated, are one that I have seen many times. However, there is easily a quarter of a century between the last time I caught The Get and last night. There has been a line-up change; they have a new bass-player, Stephen Dobson quitting to pursue solo work. This is their second line-up change in more than thirty years – they originally had a second guitarist. The Get certainly have longevity and consistency on their side.

They, much like the Stripey Zebras in their time, revelled in their amateurishness. I guess they had The Mekons as role models here, with a large slice of The Fall too. (They also used to claim Gary Glitter as an influence, something that for obvious reasons has been conveniently forgotten.) To be honest it was a mixed set. It was all new material, except for one number, and some of it could have done with a bit more practice. That being said, Bruce’s voice has held up over the years and Gary’s guitar-work is getting better. Jon makes a virtue out of not practising his drumming, and whilst there is a certain charm in this it definitely needed to be tighter in some places. I liked the new material enough to purchase the CD. I hope they perform again soon.

I turned up to pay a flying visit and ended staying for over three hours. It was as much an exercise in catching up with old friends as it was to see and hear new music. The Railway Hotel reminds me of the Top Alex at the end of the 1980s in many ways.

My thanks to Bruce, Audie, Steve, Steve, Graham, and Jon for a good evening.

Before and after the midnight of life

Abba loved

Thirty years earlier, Julian and Gary, 86-Mix

A couple of weekends ago I got dragged onto stage at one of the Mayor’s Charity events. This was a Mammia Mia Concert and Film event at the Park Inn Palace. My brief stage appearance was with Abba Love, I joined in on a version of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight), managing a few off-key mumbles at the chorus.

My performance contrasts with a gig I did at the Grand Hotel in Leigh-on-Sea in 1982. I was reminded of this when my foster mother-in-law framed an old photograph from this gig. My singing was never good, but despite this I did sing. When 86-Mix, the band I was playing with in the photo, split up I was asked to be lead singer for another band. I declined – I just could not believe my voice was anywhere near good enough. Those that heard me at the charity would, nay must, agree.

Bandstand, Bandstand, wherefore art thou Bandstand?

I get a number of inquiries as to when the Bandstand is to be returned to its former position of glory, atop the cliffs at Westcliff-on-Sea.

I recall Conservative promises of its return, broken promises.

I remember being told that the Cliffs Museum would make its return impossible.

I do not recall happy days, dancing under the sea, sipping on tea, and enjoying the atmosphere of the former cliff-top experience that was the bandstand in its heyday. I do not recall, but many residents and visitors do.

Now it sits in Priory Park, apparently cherished there. But I have not seen this, nor do I see the crowds thronging to use it.

We are told that a Cliffs Museum in or near Priory Park would not attract enough visitor numbers, yet the reverse is used to justify the Bandstand’s residency.

I would hope that either the Bandstand could be moved back, or a new one commissioned (two bandstands in one town cannot be a bad thing). I realise that today the finances do not stack up. But should we ever return to prosperity, to properly funded local government, then that would be the time to campaign for its return.

Until then we sit back and admire the digging machinery instead. Oh happy days!

The bitch is back

One of those dinner-table topics is the subject of the first record one bought. This is a subject for an increasing aging generation as records are not the all-conquering music media device they once were. Even stretching the topic to include CDs still excludes the majority of modern music purchasers, it would seem, as downloading now conquers all.

Watching re-runs of Top Of The Pops on BBC4 I am confronted by the reality of my age. The shows from 35 years ago are shows I first watch as an eighteen year old in my bedsit in Cranley Road, Westcliff-on-Sea. Whilst the details of the shows are lost to the whims of an imperfect memory, much of the music and the bands are still vividly recalled. This was still the heyday of the seven inch 45rpm vinyl single, a heyday that had lasted two decades at the time, and the explosion of punk, new wave and alternative music gave fresh impetus to this medium.

Picture sleeves, coloured vinyl, picture discs, odd shapes, and records released by small do-it-yourself outfits were the staple of my regular consumption. I bought many singles, both new and second-hand, and it truly was a voyage of discovery (often in conjunction with the NME reviews that were championing much of the stuff that I was developing a taste for). If only I had not decided to get rid of my entire record collection in the mid-eighties I would still have them.

My first single purchase was The Bitch Is Back, an Elton John single from 1974. I did not buy it new, and I guess I would have got it in either late 1974 or early 1975. I was a late developer as a record buyer largely because my parents had no record player until then. I recall mum buying some old 45s from Roots Hall market, and although much was from the late 1950s I actually enjoyed them far more than the Glam Rock and Teenybopper stuff that dominated the top twenty in those days.

My maturing record tastes in the early 1970s were heavily influenced by richer school friends who could afford the decadence of record player ownership. So, it was largely my schoolmates’ tastes that led me to becoming a fan of The Who, Rolling Stones and Elton John. When they embraced The Eagles and Patti Smith then so did I. It was only when my parents got that first gramophone, and sometime later I purchased a portable cassette-player that I was able to loosen the grip of my friends tastes and start find things for myself.

Looking back there seems something momentous about one’s first record purchase. Hindsight has invested the occasion with an aura that was not there at the time. I came across a single that I was familiar with, that I liked, and so bought. I cannot recall what the second single bought was, but I am reasonably certain that my first elpee was Meaty Beaty Big And Bouncy by The Who.

I recall a plain sleeve, and an unfancy DJM label. The song itself is reminiscent of Elton’s Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting in the prominent guitar work, although the brass reminds me of Philadelphia Freedom. It is played at a higher tempo than much of Elton’s work of the time, and the provocative title suggests far more than is actually found within. One curious fact about this record is Dusty Springfield’s backing vocals, which I was only made aware of when hunting for the lyrics.

What was your first download? Mine? I have yet to download a song, but my first purchased single was ……

(My first cassette was also by Elton John; my first CDs were by The Pixies and New Order.)

Do anything you wanna do

Eddie and the Hot Rods popped up many times in my youth. Together with Dr Feelgood they were the local boys done good, and for those of us in the punk and fledgling indie scene of the late 1970s they were near-heroes. I bought some of their records, read some of their reviews, and whenever they played locally there was a buzz. Somehow I never saw them, despite going to as many as five gigs a week. It cannot have been because they were too big, for despite my inverted musical snobbery at the time and predilection for the amateur, I did get in the occasional bigger act.

This omission was rectified a few years back, and Friday became something like my fifth time of seeing them. Many good gigs, and this was no different. It was a mature audience, probably like me remembering their distant youth. I like the Club Riga; it was a relaxed ambience, the beer is reasonably priced (although somewhat limited compared to The Cricketers next door), and the ten pounds entrance is good value for money.

The Ship musical extravanganza, or conversations about The Slits and the class struggle

The venue

Claire Wormald speaks

The Dirty Fairies

Big Dogg

The Ship public house in Leigh-on-Sea is about a thirty-minute walk from my home, so I used a sustainable transport solution to get there. Getting there, as it is almost all downhill, is easier than coming back.

Anyway, my destination was the upstairs function room where Southend Against The Cuts were hosting a music event. I caught bits of three of the bands. The Beatroots struck me as a folk/reggae fusion, although to be honest I did not catch much of their act.

It was the second time I have caught The Dirty Fairies and I do enjoy their set. A female trio who produce a fairly standard rock fare, they nonetheless do entertain. Big Dogg looked great funky fun, but tiredness meant an early-ish departure for home for me. I hope to catch them again as I only saw a couple of their numbers.

I had an interesting political chat about the lack of democracy in Communist regimes, how the council is run, and the class struggle. I also managed a chat about when The Slits played at the Grand Hotel in Leigh – how did I miss that gig?

Sarah Murray, who organised last night’s event, rather took me by surprise when she thanked me for continuing to support these music events. Although I am an officer of SATC and the one who writes the cheques I really feel that my fellow officers, Tim Sneller and Julian Esposito, are more deserving of thanks.

I have no idea how many people where there, it looked quite busy to me. My only moan is that there was no proper beer on tap upstairs – I had to pop downstairs to purchase,

Leigh folk

Spent about an hour at the Leigh Folk Festival this afternoon, long enough to bump into a couple of friends, catch a few minutes of music, and down an ice-cream.

Sought in vain for the Trades Council stall, a body who part sponsor this event each year.

Music and cuts

Last night’s cosy Southend Against The Cuts meeting somewhat resembled a gathering of music promoters as two items of discussion were the Leigh Folk Festival (23rd and 24th June) and a music event at The Ship (14th July – see flyer).

We also discussed this Thursday’s public meeting, the annual Burston Rally (2nd September) which I have yet to visit, and the TUC day of action on 20th October. Despite this full agenda we were done in under an hour – for which I was grateful.

Southend Against The Cuts is not affiliated to any political party. It is a trades union created body that was set up to oppose the Coalition Government’s agenda of cuts to public services. You do not have to be a trades unionist, or particularly political, to get involved. Our meetings are public, and if you want to be put on a mailing list please send me your name and email address. I am not the Secretary (I am SATC’s treasurer) but will pass on your details.

Red Rags

Written for 86-Mix, and unlike many of my lyrics this did not start life as a poem. Red Rags is about fashion, and my anti-fashion stance (with an allusion to my left-wing politics).

I wrote this on 22nd March 1982 – more than thirty years ago.

A demo version can be listened to here. I sing and play rhythm guitar on this.

Red Rags

Discretion, obsession
A shiny knight and his tattered armour
Feels his way to the wally parlour

Red rags, in my red rags

Seduction, corruption
Casanova and his all-purpose wardrobe
“You look alright but your tie’s too wide”

Red rags, in my red rags

Success, “the best”
Buying hard to keep up the look
A King and his crowny jewels

Red rags, in my red rags

Alone and despairing, not caring?
The shame or the fame
Shall I be the clothes-hanger?

Red rags, in my red rags

Julian Ware-Lane, 22 March 1982.

The Baby Banjoes

It was brought to my attention that the Beecroft Art Gallery is showing an exhibition entitled Thames Delta – a celebration of the local music scene.

The title is a tribute to the preponderance of blues acts in the area during the mid to late seventies. I watched many as an aficionado of the Top Alex, Shrimpers, the Musicians Workshop at the Zero Six, The Grand, etc. Many local youth clubs in those days also had acts (I played at Focus and Thorpedene), and other pubs also had the occasional gig (I also played at The Cliff and The Spread Eagle). Even discotheques occasionally hosted live music (I also played at Zhivagos, Rascals, and Crocs).

I think I played at most local venues in the late 1970s and early 1980s, with the exception of the Shrimpers club.

My contribution to the local music scene could accurately be described as insignificant. However, many of my mates were also in bands and Southend had a thriving alternative scene coming along on the tail-coats of punk and at the start of what became known as indie music. We were genuinely independent, organising our own gigs, recording and releasing our own music, writing and distributing our own fanzines. In the days before compact discs and the internet we did the best we could.

The DIY ethos, an integral part of the music revolution of the late 1970s, extended to our releasing our own material on cassette. The cassette culture was never going to go mainstream, and the numbers of sales at best only managed the low hundreds, but we had a great time doing it. My memories were of most of my free time being taken up one way or another with music.

I have appeared on many cassette albums, and have meant to blog about it here in the past. Politics is not my entire life (although it has taken over completely in the last few weeks). My musical activities are intermittent nowadays, and football took over as my main hobby from the mid 1980s.

One of my bands was called 86-Mix. We released The Baby Banjoes on Blot Recordings in 1981. I vaguely remember a recording studio of sorts being in the York Road area. My memory fails me in the details, but the album was recorded as live, and mostly in one take. All the songs bar one were well-rehearsed and part of our act at the time; Chronic Claustrophobia was made up on the spot as an end-of-album filler and had the four of us swapping instruments, with our drummer taking the vocal spot.

Half of the dozen songs are song by me, although ‘sung’ is a gross exaggeration of my vocal abilities. All songs were penned by the band

The tapes sold for £1, and my only copy as marked as ‘limited edition no 312’.

I will put some of my lyrics up on here at some point.