Showing posts with label The Jesus & Mary Chain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Jesus & Mary Chain. Show all posts

Saturday, August 3, 2019

Riot On The Radio: Gigs that ended up in a massive punch-up Part 1


Craig Stephen returns to the everythingsgonegreen lounge, with a three-part offering on riotous gigs that didn’t end well … here’s part 1:

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Today the tabloid media would go apeshit if a riot broke out at an Arctic Monkeys or Green Day gig, but these days fans tend to be generally well behaved, ‘assisted’ in that endeavour by bonehead security and/or heavy-handed police surveillance. You can even take your mum along. But trouble and music once went hand in hand, and we’re talking way before Altamont.

“I’ve never been in a riot / Never been in a fight / Never been in anything / That turns out right.” – 'Never Been in a Riot' by The Mekons (1978).

So, in no particular order here’s the first half dozen gigs … (with a dozen more to come over the next two parts).

Altamont, California, 1969

The Altamont Speedway Free Festival riot was described by Rolling Stone magazine as "perhaps rock 'n' roll's all-time worst day". This was supposed to be California’s version of Woodstock, which had taken place four months earlier, but it was beset by violence from the get-go and ended with the stabbing to death of 18-year-old Meredith Hunter by a Hells Angel during the Rolling Stones' set. 

There were two other deaths at the event as well - one by drowning, another as a consequence of a hit-and-run car accident. Hunter was brandishing a revolver at the time of the incident, resulting in the Hells Angel being acquitted of murder on grounds of self-defence. 

But the circumstances leading up to the stabbing and the aftermath of Altamont continue to be discussed today. 

The festival and the Charles Manson cult killings are said to have signified the end of the 1960s hippy dream of peace and love.



Glastonbury Festival, Somerset, 1990

This particular year the ostensibly hippy festival was overshadowed by violent clashes between security forces and New Age travellers, with 235 people arrested. 

According to organiser Michael Eavis, the riot was sparked by heavy-handed treatment of the travellers by security, but also, as he told the Guardian in 2010, "We were like a social safety valve, people needed to let off steam during the Thatcher years; it just got a bit out of hand." 

Melvin Benn, who was then in charge of beer sales at the festival, said some travellers were very demanding leading up to the incident."I was dealing with a situation just off site where, at that time, there was a very rampant traveller community that were pretty un-hippy. They were pretty aggressive and the travellers were threatening to kill me. We weren't willing to give in to all of their demands. We weren't willing to allow them all in to sell drugs or give them diesel for their vehicles."

That resulted in a stand-off that resulted in a whole number of travellers making quite a vicious attack on the farmhouse, where Michael Eavis lives, just after the festival finished. 

Eavis’ daughter Emily, now a festival co-organiser, described seeing “outside the kitchen window Molotov cocktails being thrown and vehicles being set alight." 

The violence resulted in the festival being cancelled in 1991, but it returned in 1992 with a 10-foot fence around the site to ensure people paid to get in: in other words not the travellers. 

Premiere of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, Paris, 1913

It's perhaps the most infamous premiere of a ballet when Igor Stravinsky unleashed his dissonant, aggressive masterpiece at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in the French capital on 29 May 1913, and triggered a riot. Or so the legend goes. 

Witnesses told of differing accounts - of when trouble started; of how many police were called in; and of how many arrests were made (possibly as many as 40). 

Lydia Sokolova, one of the dancers on the stage that night, said the audience came prepared. "They had got themselves all ready. They didn't even let the music be played for the overture. As soon as it was known that the conductor was there, the uproar began," she said in 1965. 

The performance continued to the end, despite the rowdiness of the audience, and one thing most accounts seem to agree on is that there was an ovation.



The Jesus and Mary Chain, London, 1985

Their short, abrasive sets, often performed with their backs to the crowd, irked fans intentionally and not just on this evening. Trouble had flared up at earlier Mary Chain gigs in 1985, resulting in a tipping point at the North London Polytechnic when the PA was ripped down and punch-ups broke out amongst the crowd. 

According to Creation records boss Alan McGee: “Meat Whiplash went on first. Halfway through the set, Stevie, the guitar player, threw a wine bottle into the audience. Somebody got on stage to belt him, but he and the rest of the band ran away, except for Eddie Connolly, the bass player. So he got socked. The next band on was the Jasmine Minks, and they went on carrying clawhammers. They wanted people to see they were tooled up. So the audience had a bottle thrown at them, the second band went on with hammers ... is it any wonder it all went off?” 

NME writer Neil Spencer wrote that soon after the Mary Chain began their set a fight broke out. “They went off stage, came back on stage, the equipment got pushed off, and the police were completely incompetent. It was impossible for them to deal with it.” 

That wasn’t the end of it as the band’s Jim Reid explained. “After we came off, we were in our dressing room, and we heard all this pounding on a door down the corridor. It was an angry mob banging on a cupboard door, thinking it was our dressing room. I remember peeking out of the door, watching these people shouting, ‘Get the bastards! Get the bastards!’.”

Daniel Auber, Brussels, 1830

As violent as all the other events were, none of them caused an actual revolution. However, the performance of Daniel Auber's five-act opera La Muette de Portici in Brussels played a significant role in the Belgium revolution of the same year, which resulted in the country gaining independence from the Netherlands. 

The nationalistic opera was chosen for a performance at the Theatre de la Monnaie on 25 August 1830, as part of King William I's festival to celebrate 15 years of his reign. The French Revolution had occurred just a month earlier. 

During a second act duet, the crowd cheered so wildly that the performers had to stop singing and start over. 

Eventually, the performers reached the peak of the piece's lyrics — singing ‘Aux Armes’ (Call to Arms) — and dozens of spectators took that message literally, into the streets. When the fifth act arrived, audience members began to boo in an attempt to stop the show and apparently incite a riot. "The delirious crowd [hurled itself] out of the hall—and into history," wrote 20th-century French composer Lionel Renieu. 

The audience chanted patriotic slogans, stormed into government buildings, and began destroying factory machinery. Soon they were flying the flag of Independent Belgium.



Section 25 & Joy Division, Bury, 1980

"There were riots all the time at gigs," recalls Peter Hook.

Bury Town Hall was among the worst.

"There was a massive riot there and I got beaten up. I got beaten up all over the place," he says.

The 400-capacity hall was heaving with people after the fire exit doors were opened, letting in about 200 more in.

There were rumours that Ian Curtis had been in hospital and the gig might be cancelled. Curtis indeed wasn’t well enough to perform, but he did, briefly.

For Section 25’s finale they were joined by the three members of Joy Division, sans Ian. 

Nobody had explained any of this to the audience so there was some confusion when Curtis eventually stepped out on stage. Someone threw a pint glass at the stage sparking a fracas. Rob Gretton dived off the mixing desk into a bunch of skinheads and Hook was physically restrained in the dressing room by Tony Wilson, his wife, and Paul from Section 25.

Thursday, October 4, 2018

Guest Post ... Party Fears Ten: How Scottish post-punk saved the world (sort of)

Following our hugely popular (no need for the BS – Ed) list of Aussie bands that weren’t shit, the bard of Montrose, Craig Stephen - the contributor formerly known as Porky - removes his porcine disguise to uncover 10 of the finest Scottish post-punk bands …

But, what, no Altered Images? Gasp.

The Scars

This Edinburgh band was formed in early 1977 by brothers Paul and John Mackie. A window ad in a record store roped in idiosyncratic vocalist Robert King and drummer Calumn Mackay and away they went. Long after their first gig at Balerno Scout Hall, the four-piece signed for fabled local label, Fast Product, which was notable for issuing early releases by The Human League, Gang of Four, The Mekons and Joy Division. Their debut album, Author! Author!, arrived in 1981 and earned five stars in Sounds and a rave review from the NME’s Paul Morley. I can’t disagree with either of those writers: it wasn’t always an easy listen but it was a magnificent piece of work; a kind of post-punk goth menagerie. Ahead of their time some say, and despite leaving a back catalogue of excellent singles and the album, The Scars were gone by 1982. 

Josef K

They lasted two years (if that), released one album during their existence, and scrapped another - a decision that is almost universally regarded as one of the biggest mistakes in pop history - but Josef K are one of the most feted and cultist bands to emerge from the post-punk era. Franz Ferdinand, for instance, love ‘em. Josef K were formed in 1979 and after one single on the obscure Absolute label signed to Alan Horne’s Postcard Records. Two singles were released on the legendary label and in late 1980 they were preparing to issue their debut album, Sorry For Laughing, when it was suddenly shelved, apparently because it was “too polished”. It wasn’t till July 1981 that a Josef K album came out. The Only Fun in Town featured reworked versions of five of the songs on the Sorry for Laughing album. A month later they broke up. You can get both albums on a combined release and make up your own mind which should have been issued first.

The dizzyingly esoteric Associates

The Associates

Anyone who had had the pleasure of visiting this writer’s previous enterprise, Porky Prime Cuts, will be familiar with my love of The Associates, who were responsible for the most lavish and extraordinary album of the entire 1980s, Sulk. It was a hugely ambitious effort, in terms of sound, attitude, and lyrics, with Billy MacKenzie’s spellbinding octave-scaling voice to the fore. It even spawned some hits – Party Fears Two, Club Country, and Love Hangover, leading to some fantastically over-the-top TV appearances. Other contemporary former indie-experimental bands like the Human League and Scritti Politti achieved success but they did so by embracing a commercial sound and swanky clothing/dashing hair-dos. In contrast, The Associates told the world through their third studio album: this is us, take it or leave it. Sulk was both opulent and strange. MacKenzie's lyrics were dizzyingly esoteric, with Skipping’s infamous couplet "ripping ropes from the Belgian wharfs / breathless beauxillious griffin once removed seemed dwarfed", baffling everyone. Their year of magnificent triumph was also their last as MacKenzie and Alan Rankine parted ways before Christmas. MacKenzie revived The Associates two years later, but other than the operatic pop opus of Waiting For the Love Boat it was never quite the same.

Simple Minds

Clearly we’re not talking of the Don’t You Forget About Me-era Minds, or frankly any version of the band after 1983. In the cavalcade of mediocrity that Jim Kerr et al have subjected the world to over the past three decades, it’s easy to forget how sublime the Glaswegians were in a frighteningly glorious spell from 1979 to 1983, with seven albums running the gamut from euro electronic to proto-stadium rock. Empires and Dance (1980) is long forgotten but is memorable for the futuristic single I, Travel. A couple of albums released on the same day in 1981, and effectively siblings, developed the prog rock meets new romantic sound. The zenith was New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84), released in the second of those years. Margaret Thatcher was in power and there was war, mass unemployment, and inner city decay, but there was a feeling that music shouldn’t be dragged down by it all. Kerr’s vocals are masterly, bridging the great divide between the new romantic era and crooners. Three singles from New Gold Dream became unlikely hits, including Promised You A Miracle, but it was the lumbering, neo-experimental tracks like King Is White and In the Crowd and the title track that shone brightest. By 1983, the Minds were moving in new directions and while that would end in U2-esque stadia glitz, there was life in the old dog yet, and Sparkle in the Rain straddled the synth pop Minds with a beefier sound.

The Cocteau Twins

They weren’t twins nor they were from one of the main centres. They hailed from the unlikely oil refinery town of Grangemouth. Initially, they were dismissed as dour, sun-hating goths, which wasn’t entirely dispelled by their opening records. They cast out a spiky, dissociative sound with Liz Fraser’s ethereal, high-pitched vocals and nonsensical lyrics. A committed fanbase propelled them into the UK top 30 in 1984 with Pearly Dewdrops’ Drops, and there was plenty of critical acclaim (one tale is that Prince ordered their entire back catalogue), but they remained very much an acquired taste until 1990’s Heaven Or Las Vegas opened them up to a new audience. There is now a massive reissue project taking place so there’s no excuse for not seeking them out.

An early Orange Juice line-up

Orange Juice

A Glasgow mob that had a monster hit in 1983 in the shape of Rip It Up, which broke free from the synth coterie of New Romanticism to smash into the UK’s top 10. Orange Juice were founded in the ever-so-pleasant suburb of Bearsden, originally as Nu-Sonics by Edwyn Collins, Alan Duncan, James Kirk and Steven Daly, with a name that immediately eschewed the macho posturing and pseudo rebellion of punk. They released a handful of promising singles, including Blue Boy and Simply Thrilled Honey, during 1980 and 1981 on Postcard. Polydor Records snapped them up and released the You Can't Hide Your Love Forever album in 1982, but Kirk and Daly left that same year. There would be a few more line-up changes before they split in 1984. Edwyn Collins went solo and would record a Northern Soul tinged epic A Girl Like You that was so huge it could only be avoided in the UK during the summer of 1995 by hiding in a cupboard.

The Skids

The finest thing to come out of Dunfermline since steel tycoon and public libraries proponent Andrew Carnegie. The Skids were formed around the nucleus of Richard Jobson and Stuart Adamson, who would go to form Big Country, a band that, for very good reasons, were never going to get onto this list even if it was expanded to 97. They had several top 20 hits - Into The Valley and Working For The Yankee Dollar, as well as Masquerade, and there was the excellent album, The Absolute Game, released in 1980. And there was The Saints Are Coming, which was so good it had to have the tag team of U2 AND Green Day to cover it. They had songs about the conflict in Ireland and signing up to the British army because Fife’s traditional industries had been decimated. And there was also a song about Coronation Street’s uber curmudgeon Albert Tatlock.


That Desperadoes compilation you've probably never heard of ..

Jesse Garon and the Desperadoes

A little twee, perhaps, but no list should ever be fundamentally entrenched in their ideals, and therefore this Edinburgh act, formed in the mid-80s sneak their way in on account of their slightly subversive singles and for being, well, damn fucking good.  Their sound was typical of the mid-80s, with scratchy guitars, melody, and a male-female vocal dynamic. A string of singles and EPs, such as Splashing Along and The Adam Faith Experience, saw the light of day, but no studio album emerged – although there was certainly enough material for one. That would be rectified in 1989 through the compilation, A Cabinet of Curiosities, which reunited their early singles and EPs to splendid effect. It was not all love and lust and breaking up: a later single, Grand Hotel referenced the IRA’s bombing of the Brighton building that nearly killed Mrs Thatcher. And there was no Jesse Garon in the band: the name was appropriated from Elvis Presley's stillborn twin brother, Jesse Garon Presley. Ain’t that just sick? But brilliant.

The Fire Engines

Ingrained in that same Caledonian post-punk movement of Postcard Records, The Skids, and a smattering of short-lived but no less brilliant acts, the Fire Engines, irrespective of their seemingly squeaky clean name, were more abrasive and discordant than their peers. The Engines (named, in fact, after a 13th Floor Elevators’ track), packaged their debut album, the manic Lubricate Your Living Room (Background Music for Action People!) in a plastic carrier bag. A subsequent non-album single, Candyskin, was an about-face that accentuated Davy Henderson's nasal vocals and introduced a string section. They had ideas aplenty, but despite another illuminating 7-inch, Big Gold Dream, disbanded in late 1981. Henderson and Russell Burn would seek chart success and world domination (neither succeeded) in Win which this blog has explored in the very recent past.


Cartoon punks, The Rezillos
 
The Rezillos

Their cartoon punk sound earned them a tour with The Ramones and a deal with Sire, but after only two years and one album, they were gone-burger. That was some album and they even featured on Top of the Pops, with the cheekily named single Top of the Pops. Guitarist and songwriter Jo Callis helped the Human League achieve mega-success, while co-singers Eugene Reynolds and Fay Fife formed the Revillos, a sort of continuation of the Rezillos, but with a bigger 60s pop sound. The Rezillos have recently reformed and unlike many of their contemporaries, aren’t being laughed at. The Rezillos are alluded to twice in The Bridge by the well-known Scots author Iain Banks. So there you go.

The Jesus and Mary Chain

Who’d have thought a new town could spawn such a magnificent monster. The Jesus and Mary Chain were formed in East Kilbride, a Glasgow overspill. Their coruscating debut single, Upside Down, scared children and grannies alike. They played notorious gigs at which pissing off the audience wasn’t an issue, and unleashed Psychocandy, one of the most anti-pop but brilliant albums of the 80s. Brothers Jim and William Reid and two mates made a record that was one part bubblegum pop and three parts lacerating guitar feedback. It sounded like Abba covering The Birthday Party while locked in a mineshaft. They never did quite match those feats thereafter, but a sensible move towards the mainstream resulted in a good few pop albums, like the follow-up, Darklands. They’re still going and are still very potent.

And with that final inclusion, Craig offers up not 10, but a distinctly OCD-defying 11 great Scottish post-punk bands. Let’s be honest, he’s done well to stop there. Thanks Craig.