9.11.2023

Howdy Soundheads

After another extended break from me, I bring you the living hell of The Birthday Party.

A brilliant clip of the slightly reduced line up of them after kicking Phil Calvert out. From a long forgotten TV show, and in honour of my trip to see the new documentary (Mutiny in Heaven) on said band this coming weekend, of which, I’m quite looking forward to it.

Like most docs being made, it’s possible there’s a scarcity of footage – not as bad as the Big Star doc, which literally has a brief minute or so of 8mm film of them recording Record #1, still a fantastic doc none the less.

What is my fave music doc I hear you wonder?
Well, I’ll tell you.
It’s Love Story and it’s about… LOVE.
Not long before Arthur left us, he’d spoken so beautifully of those days.
And apart from Bryan MacLean, all surviving members are recorded being interviewed.
It’s an absolute must, just to see Snoopy swinging from a branch whilst talking, if you have never had the pleasure of getting yer eyeballs on it.

So to continue back to where we started… The Birthday Party.

What a band!
What a fucking band!

Back in those days, not many could touch them for just an abuse of sound and fury.
Nick wasn’t so biblically obsessed and got down deep into the dirt.
But…
Their true star was Rowland S Howard.
The scratchiest of scratchy guitar this side of the galaxy.
Only the dearly departed souls of Andy Gill and Keith Levene could come close, but listen, it wasn’t a competition and all three were unique and as brilliant as a super nova.
God, I love me some scratchy geetar, yes Sir!
Add the pissed cowboy menace of Tracy Pew, whose minimal three note thunder loops had a massive influence on yours truly, and you have a trio upfront that really did bring it… and then some.

The Birthday Party

If Ivo at 4AD only ever signed them and Rema Rema, he could die a hero.

So, I’ll add a little extra to this after I’ve seen it and let you know what I think.
Not that it matters a shit what I think, get out there and track it down because it’ll be essential viewing I’m sure.

Also, take the time to also track down the doc on the great Mr Howard himself, it’s little seen and it’s fantastic. Autoluminescent: Rowland S. Howard (IMDB)

Adios for now amigos

RH X

MR. BOLTON'S CURIOSITY CORNER "Don't go sniffin rocks, kids!"

When the nudge came from Jean-Michel that it was time to go and have a rummage in the cabinet of curiosities, I had just finished reading (or more specifically having had read to me) ‘Sonic Life’ the incredibly and impressively detailed autobiography of one of my absolute guitar heroes, Thurston Moore.

Thurston’s mellifluous New York drawl had accompanied me on the winding Sonic Youth journey from early infatuations with the Velvets, Stooges and Suicide through the NY new wave/ no wave/ hardcore and hiphop scenes, and on and on.

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On the way we meandered through the pre-grunge-explosion landscape of the late 1980s US alternative scene… taking in the likes of Swans, Black Flag, Dinosaur Jr, Minutemen, Mudhoney, Pavement, REM, SST records et al. and the world of fanzines and mixtapes, obscure 7 inches on tiny labels and word of mouth recommendations.  (Incidentally Godflesh also get a nod via Head of David, Sonic Youth’s label mates on Blast First in the UK).

As he talked, I was transported right back to my pre-internet Uni days where we eagerly gleaned what we could about what was happening on the other side of the pond from a handful of friendly record shop staff, the unholy weekly trinity of The NME/ Melody Maker/ Sounds plus Record Mirror and whatever fanzines we could get our grubby mitts on.

So while rummaging in the vaults I, serendipitously, happened across a copy of ‘Sniffin’ Rock’ fanzine, the cover boasting interviews with Dinosaur Jr., Pussy Galore, and Firehose all of whom had cropped up in Sonic Life. Perfect.

Sniffin Rock was a short-lived music fanzine named, presumably, in homage to Sniffin’ Glue the ‘original punk fanzine’ run by Mark Perry in the late 70’s. Coming out of Brixton the mag was edited by Amel Bendedouche who (according to LinkedIn) worked in music management at ‘Rough Trade and the Fall’ and is now something big in international fundraising… I digress.

Bendedouche put out c.13 issues of Sniffin’ Rock between 1987 and 1990 (exact info is a bit sketchy so this is a best guess from what’s out there).

Issue 8. came out in February 1989, featuring a two-page interview with Robert.

The interviewer (one KRASH KORD of whom the internet has absolutely nothing to say) opens with some indecipherable drivel about Loop being cells under a microscope and sound cells copulating with each other and multiplying according to the holy laws of Mother Music and ends with something about the loop closing on itself in the natural course of existence. Far out, man! Don’t do drugs or go sniffin’ rocks, kids (or if you do, step away from the typewriter).

If you can get past the pseudo-psyche drivel, it’s actually not a bad interview taking in the influence of noise bands (Swans/ Big Black/ Sonic Youth) and the intensity and violence that can come from volume, length, and repetition before moving on to the minimalist influence of Suicide. Have a read…

Anyway, each issue (from issue 3 onwards) of Sniffin’ Rock came with a free single – a flexidisc for the first couple before upgrading to vinyl 7’s for the remainder – featuring among others Alan Vega, African Head Charge, World Domination Enterprises, CrazyHead, Senseless Things, The Fall, The Shamen, Das Damen, Chapterhouse, Sonic Youth and Sp*cemen3. And, of course, Loop.

The free 7” that came with issue 8, featured a ‘previously unreleased’ mix of the Fade Out track ‘Pulse’ backed with tracks from Gaye Bikers on Acid and The Abs.

This mix is different to both the album and Peel sessions versions, featuring a more prominent lead riff that kicks in from the start of the track before the vocals kick in… it also fades out after three and a half minutes, as opposed to the four minutes, 45 seconds of the album version making it distinctly different and definitely worth having for the completists amongst us! It’s probably an alternate mix from the Fade Out sessions.

Also if you pay attention to the label you’ll play it at 33 1/3 RPM, however, the disc is actually cut at 45 RPM, so you get a wonderfully slow, down-tuned sludgy version of the track…

So there you have it… the Sniffin’ Rock/ Pulse 7”.  A hidden gem of a track, well worth hunting down, that sits proudly alongside the noise of Swans, Big Black and Sonic Youth.

15.09.2023

Greets Soundheads,

I know, it’s been a while.
General life and illness and whatever else goes on gets in the way sometimes… plus it’s good to get away from me for a bit, I imagine it’s a little claustrophobic with me banging on all the time about this, that and the other.

So…
Down to the bizniss

Here we have quite possibly one of my all time fave clips and that honour goes to mister Iain David McGeachy…
To you and I, John Martyn.
Who would have been 75 on Sept 11th.
Happy Birthday John, wherever you roam.

Now, I’m not going to go on about Solid Air and all that ambient tittle tattle. It’s all been said before.
It’s a great record, we all know that by now.

I’m a big fan of his early work, London Conversation, The Tumbler et al
And we know Solid Air changed the picture very considerably.

Between said album and the last one he really did before all the cocaine suited coffee table jazz rockisms kicked in, which this is from… One World.
Those in-betweeners were :
Inside Out which is lovely, Sunday’s Child not so much, but he (in my very opinionated opinion) left us with one last truly great one.
And that is One World.

Now, this clip is the only known version I’m aware of the title track, where he comes on like an ambient metal Michael Brook ( inventor of sorts of the infinite guitar – which sadly fell into the wrong hands with The Edge boring the living shite out of us forever ) hits the Big Muff on stun, the Echoplex on psych, gets a fantastic Kraftwerk squelch going in slo-mo on and absolutely creates a whole new song out of a classic track in under 5 mins.
Ably abetted by his long term party monster mate, Danny Thompson on bass and Anthony “Rebop” Kwaku Baah on percussion.
Rebop of course played with Traffic and then later, CAN.
At least… I think it’s him.
I’m not 100% sure so correct me if I’m wrong.
Whoever it is, they all create something truly special and it’s just one of those wonders of the world that it got recorded and it’s still in circulation.

Forgive the rock monster facial grimacing of Martyn, watch it once, then again with your eyes closed.
It truly is fucking majestic and although the original is gorgeous, this just makes me want to weep, it’s beyond beauty.

“Some of us live like princes and some of us like queens,
but most of us live just like me, and we don’t know what it means…”
That’s fucking poetry right there.
He had his moments and he knew he was his own worst enemy, but in there, was a man who knew what made it all tick at times, this being one of them.
I could watch this 20 times in a row and never lose the feeling it gave me the first time.

Til next time

Keep love in your heart and peace in your world

RH X

MR. BOLTON'S CURIOSITY CORNER "Who Is This Man?"

Funny how the old grey matter works…

This week I noted in passing that those stalwarts Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy are reforming Death Cult and heading out on a short tour playing some Death Cult and Southern Death Cult tracks… which information suddenly transported me right back to 1990… 27th March 1990 to be precise.

I was sat in a fairly non-descript house in Hounslow, Middlesex (West London) and the person who’s house it was had just handed me a magazine… an A5 glossy fanzine, open at a page with a badly photocopied series of pictures, headed ‘Who Is This Man?’ He invited me to guess.

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I recognised the picture as Ian Astbury in his Southern Death Cult, native American, cultural misappropriation guise (hence the Quantum Leap moment).

But that’s not really important… what is more important is that the chap who had just handed me the magazine was Sam. And Sam was Loop’s merch man.

We’d first met on the Loop/ Godflesh/ World Dom tour and got to know him quite well. He crops up a few times in the archives, always in some dodgy band top, trademark backwards baseball cap and with a huge grin on his face (I have an image of Sam one night in Dublin burned into my retinas… but that’s a story for another day). Sam was, and probably/ hopefully still is, a thoroughly nice bloke. And that’s how I came to be in his house in Hounslow.

Loop had played at the Powerhaus in Islington, London the previous evening as a warm-up for their imminent European Tour. (Supported, trivia fans, by These Immortal Souls, featuring ex-Birthday party guitarist Rowland S. Howard and Epic Soundtracks (Croydon born, late of Swell Maps) on drums.)

The first European date was at the Dunois Theatre in Paris on 28th so we had a day to kill before heading to Paris and Sam had kindly invited me and my girlfriend to crash with him.

I sat back with a brew and a roll up to peruse the rest of the fanzine, which Sam had gifted me (thanks Sam, saved me a quid!). It was titled Helter Skelter and Sam was the editor… which explained why he had a big box of them in his living room.

I turned back to the front cover which was graced with a black and white Tom Sheehan promotional pic of… Loop… ok, now I’m interested!

Looking back at it today it’s a pretty good interview, (the interviewer Trish Jaega went on to contribute to British music weekly ‘Sounds’ amongst others) covering a lot of ground and going into some quite interesting depth… and concluding with some prescient musings on the future. The mag makes a couple of references to A Gilded Eternity, and the pics are the promo pics used to promote the album, so it’s interesting that the interview doesn’t talk in any detail about the forthcoming release… maybe a timing thing. My guess is that the interview was from the tail end of ’89 before the album was announced and the reference to the album was added in later before going to print…

Sam subsequently sold these off the Loop merch stand on the Gilded Eternity tour, of course, so hopefully there’s still a few out there amongst you Soundheads. Mine survived a quick trip to Europe and back before being squirreled away in the cabinet of curiosities where it’s resided for the past 34 years.

If you’re out there Sam, thanks for your hospitality and generosity, it lives long in the memory (as does that night in Dublin!).

8.08.2023

Another full blast of a whole album again this week.

The utterly monumental Thirst by Clock DVA.
Along with the Cabs and even The Human League (Reproduction and Travelogue are great albums, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise) they put Sheffield on the map for the weirdness.

Not as itchy and scratchy as other post punk bands of the time, they pretty much ploughed their own furrow with almost Beefheartian dedication to the abstract.
There is definitely some Magic Band angles present here but there is also blue eyed funkatronics and jazz. The soundscapes aren’t as icy cold as the Cabs and there’s a hint of musique concrete in there for good measure.
Adi Newton’s path to the digital dystopian world of his later works is easily referenced here, his vocal style almost spoken word, but strangulated in a way that was only matched by the broken howl of Mr Mark Stewart.
And of course, it features one of the greatest post punk anthems ever made.
The absolute stonker of 4 Hours.
A very different mix here to the single version, which might possibly crown it?
Not sure, I waver all over the shop on that one.

Filtering in and out of everything is the sterling work of Charlie Collins on Sax and Clarinet. Like a war torn Evan Parker, he twists and turns in and out of focus and creates the edge that makes this album such a gem.

The production by the sadly departed legend Ken Thomas, who co ran the short lived, but highly essential Fetish label, is probably the best of the bunch of all the releases that label housed.
And then there’s the fantastic art of Neville Brody, say no more!

It truly is one of the essential releases of such an important period…
And yes, I named my studio after it in tribute.

Sadly, this line up was relatively short lived.
Judd Turner met his maker after an overdose and Collins, Roger Quail and Paul Widger left to form The Box.
Newton kept the name and various line ups have come and gone during the bands fractured existence since.

There isn’t a duff track on it, take my word for it.
Let it wash over you and then replay it again.

High Holy Disco Mass
RH X

And a nice little bonus here in the shape of a rare clip of the original line up doing what they did best at Leed’s Futurama festival in 1980.

MR. BOLTON'S CURIOSITY CORNER "The Treworgey Tree Festival"

“A dustbowl of death, drugs, dysentery, dirt and depravity”

The eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed a brief hiatus in the cabinet of curiosities last week.

Worn out from previous rummaging I decided to take clan Bolton away camping last weekend… a short break to celebrate Mrs. B’s birthday and let the kids run wild in nature for a few days seemed like a fine idea… We hooked up with some good friends… gathered around the campfire… settled in for a night under the stars, eating, drinking and chatting till the wee small hours.

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All was bliss until about 2AM when my oldest appeared at the campfire to announce that his brother had just puked all over the tent… too much Haribo and Coke I thought as I trudged across the field to the awaiting catastrophe… sadly I was to be proved wrong as a sickness bug enveloped the camp and by the next day oldest child and I (and multiple friends) were similarly stricken.

I’ll leave it to your imaginations to figure out the next 24 hours… suffice to say it wasn’t pleasant.

So what’s this all got to do with the cabinet of curiosities you may wonder?

Upon returning chez Bolton I came across the programme for the ‘infamous’ Treworgey Tree Festival. This item had come into my possession quite recently (I never had money at the time for such luxuries as programmes back then) from an old friend, tour buddy and all-round damned fine Soundhead.

The Treworgey Tree Festival, near Liskeard Cornwall, had taken place 34 years to the day, previously to our recent ill-fated camping trip and both hadn’t quite worked out as planned, oh, and Mrs. B had also chosen Treworgey to celebrate her birthday… (there it is folks… the tenuous link!).

Back in the late 80’s festivals were still, thankfully, a long way away from the bland corporate sponsored, Insta-friendly affairs we get these days… a culture clash of folk, reggae, acid house, punk, world music and, of course, psyche rock… landing somewhere between the free festivals of the 70’s, the likes of Reading Rocks and the big illegal raves that were popping up around the country. And into that mix came Treworgey…

Flicking through the programme, I was struck by the awful graphics, terrible layout, bizarre writing (check out the Loop and Hypnotics write ups…) but also by the eclectic and mighty line up including The Seers, Thee Hypnotics, and The Darkside alongside festival stalwarts such as Nik Turner, Hawkwind, Ozric Tentacles, the Levellers and Misty In Roots… and – of course – Loop. (I posted some great photos of Loop’s Treworgey performance – taken by my old mate Craig who was drummer for the Darkside – on the Soundheads page a while back)

‘Loop played on the main stage, all I could see was dry ice and heads and guitars…mental trashy psychedelic noise.’ (Bishbosh, Traveller from Coventry)

The hand-designed/ drawn nature of the programme and flyer, the quaint cartoons of ‘the crew’ (all eleven of them) all show what an amateur team were ‘running’ the festival. I couldn’t help but give a wry smile when reading the warnings and advice on a range of subjects… lost kids, sex, drugs (don’t do ‘em folks), alcohol, fires, don’t drop litter etc. and a guide to how to use the toilets to stop them getting blocked.

Unfortunately for the organisers Glastonbury finished three weeks prior and a convoy of travellers descended on the site setting up a free festival… soon followed by up to 40,000 others… the toilets were hopelessly inadequate, and people took to the woods… security were, allegedly, a criminal gang from Bristol that clashed with the travellers… the water supply was infected with a dead sheep, ‘hundreds’ of people were arrested and rumours circulated of at least one death.

It’s been variously described as ‘a shanty town on the edge of some Third World Capital’, ‘like something out of a hellish Hieronymus Bosch painting’, and ‘chaotic, dangerous and anarchic’…

So was it really all that bad?

Well, no, I don’t think so… it was hardly Altamont, it was a ramshackle festival with crap toilets and a bit of ‘edge’. Isn’t that what makes a good festival?

It didn’t rain… and Loop played… so give me Treworgey over Glastonbury any day.

And I wasn’t scraping sick off an inflatable mattress at 2AM so I’ll take that as a win.

MR. HAMPSON SAYS...

We landed in whatever godforsaken cowpat they decided to put a festival in, on the premise that we’d also scout out a close by studio that was potentially the venue for recording A Gilded Eternity.
Sawmill studios had held promise because SWANS had been there not long before.

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Having to take a very small floating vessel that might have been called a boat (or was it a skip?)to get to said studio – the kind you pay some shabbily dressed skeletal being a couple of pieces of silver or such nonsense from The Golden Bough – then to discover that it was shoebox small and was basically a series of disconnected rooms that a cat who was unfortunate enough to have found itself being swung around, would have hit its head on every wall in the entire complex.
So, straight away, it didn’t fill any charter of hopes listed in our desire to become Faust-like and get a bit earthy.
We’d already had House In The Woods at our disposal for all that rudimentary welly wearing we needed.
We did eventually end up in a former abattoir called The Slaughterhouse in Driffield, and stopped talking to each other… but that’s another story.

So back to the cowpat in question we managed to find ourselves landed in and let’s just say…

I fucking love nature.
I love getting lost in nature and being surrounded by trees and all things harmonious.

But, I have an intense deep dislike of being surrounded by large amounts of people at the best of times. It has a certain intensity that’s had on a couple of occasions, make me do unusual things.
This wasn’t one of them, but I wasn’t a happy bunny, let’s just say that and get on with this tale.

One absolute great memory is that when we went on, it was dark and as you looked into the further outreaches of the cow pat, people had lit fires and that was kind of quite nice.
Primitive, but I can imagine that those who weren’t having internal raging hells of taking “the brown acid” and the eternal damning hells of a future of living in a yurt in Wales, it might have been almost cosy.

The rest of it doesn’t ever make me feel at one with anyone, and the cunt who hassled me forever for a free t shirt after we’d just literally just finished because he was part of the “community” – climbing over the audience barricade (there are no barricades,man) at the front of the stage, climbing up on the stage and just not giving up on a chance of a new bit of clean dayware for the next three years, really didn’t make me feel I needed to do anyone a favour… for fucks sake, he didn’t even have a dog I could stroke and count it’s malnourished ribs, let along any string.
I openly admit I love animals far more than I love anything even remotely admitting to be human, so this guy was on a lost cause without even knowing, bless his little natty dreads.
Let alone actually admitting he didn’t even know the band that had just ticked his eardrums,
his mission was one of survival of not having to return 3 months early to get his mum to do his washing.
Little did he know that he’d just probably just met the first person who didn’t give a fucking fuck… but hey ho… Hippies might learn there’s no such thing as a free lunch at some point.
Manson was a hippy and all his folksy charmer followers pretended to be too, and look what happened to Sharon.

I rest my case.

Now you have box ticking weekend hippies who seem to be really quite wealthy, and can manage the odd meat free bender at Glasto just as long as they can sing along tunelessly to Lana Del Rey en masse and completely destroy the logic of actually watching a live performance.

I was also told off by the manager for telling everyone huddled around their little fires of hygge love from the stage, that I don’t like Hawkwind.

Boy, did I go home a happy lad the next day!

RH X

30.07.2023

Good morrow Heads of the Sound
We’re going through the square window today for the track of the week.

Eno has been no pussyfooting with Fripp and about to stick needles in a camel’s eye whilst welcoming warm jets and been replaced by Eddie Jobson in the Roxy roll call.

Jobson hasn’t really made his mark just yet, that comes later in Country Life, but his presence is there.

Mother Of Pearl announces itself in a flurry of crazy vocals and blitzed Manzanera licks driven by the absolute force of nature of Paul Thompson’s drums.
As a quick side note, Thompson really is one of the most underrated drummers, almost the Roxy secret weapon. Yes, Eno’s trickery lifts the ART in ART rock in those first two albums, but Thompson rocks the art ROCK, nuff said.

Quickly enough it breaks down and turns into a slow burn psychedelic mass.
The peels of Manzanera’s guitars sound like sonar, eerily snaking about the solid aforementioned Thompson’s locked tight rhythms, that build up and up.

For me, Stranded and next album Country Life really stretch out the puckish promises of the first two albums.
OK, it can be said that Roxy becomes silkier and perhaps more polished but as craft alone, they gets to grips with the promise of their earlier albums.
It quickly disappears by the time of Siren, where the polish becomes disco-ish and rococo gilt laden, but hey ho, those first four albums are legend.

Mother of Pearl and Country Life’s phase overlord Out Of The Blue are my two most beloved Roxy tracks.
Both long and unraveling gems that held Ferry’s lyrics and vocals at their best.

Paired well with a smoky single malt, it’s a masterclass.

Take care y’all

RH X

24.07.2023

Greets Soundheads!

Miles Electric, Electric Miles

A lesser known and often dismissed album by some, who perhaps didn’t really know what the fuck they were talking about, Big Fun came at a time period where Miles just hot footed.
Yes, it’s a compilation of outtakes, but with right hand man Teo Macero at the edits, it’s a fucking masterpiece.

Great Expectations is quite probably my favourite Miles of all that incredible period.
Recorded not a long time after Bitches Brew and for me, a period so fertile and imaginative, it must be in line for one of the greatest periods of any artist’s artistry.
Miles did dark and haunting better than anyone.
Yet, it retains that certain brand of Miles Davis funk that simply has a groove all of its own, it’s unmistakable.

Thanks obviously to the peeps he had surround him, the intuitive playing of everyone and the sharp razors of Macero, these long and drawn out drones and phrases are so evocative, they never sound dated.
This could have been made yesterday.

From In A Silent Way to Get Up With It ( another comp of outtakes ) whatever voodoo that ever got run down in those sessions and the series of live albums managed to enthral and amaze, however misunderstood they might have been at the time by the snobs.

I don’t use the word Peerless much, but it’s gonna get used here.

Much like the classic period of what was going on in the spiritual realm of all those classic Impulse albums from Alice Coltrane, Pharaoh Sanders, Archie Shepp et al, these artefacts take on mystical qualities.
The more you dive in, the more that leaks out.

And you know what?
I’m gonna call ‘em psychedelic.
Because they damn well are true to that origin.

It’s a fucking miserable time here in Yorkshire.
The rain hasn’t stopped for days where everywhere else is cooking alive.
It’s a day for Great Expectations and red wine.

Until next time Brothers and Sisters of the funk!

Peace Out!

RH X

MR. BOLTON'S CURIOSITY CORNER "Welcome to the Lazerzone!"

The Norwich Waterfront gig which ended the latest run of shows was one of those weird, early curfew shows that come along every now and again when a club is trying to maximise its revenue by putting on an early gig followed by a club night.

I guess in out of the way venues this makes sense, however frustrating for the band with such an early start. But at my age it’s quite nice to get the gig finished and have time to decamp to the pub for a decent catch up with old muckers.

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I was pondering this state of affairs as I rummaged through the cabinet of curiosities this week and landed on the tickets and set list etc. for the show at Shelly’s Nite Spot on March 3rd, 1990. This was the Loop, Godflesh, World Dom tour… so a noisy time was had by all. These shows tended to start with Sunburst and end with Be Here Now, which to this day remain two of my favourite Loop tracks, and this was no exception.

I’m guessing not many of us will be familiar with Shelly’s Nite Spot, or Shelly’s Lazerdome as it was also known… it didn’t feature heavily on the ‘guitar band’ touring schedule.  It was however a mainstay of the early 90’s rave scene, being equidistant between Birmingham and Manchester (and benefiting from the drugs-related closure of the Hacienda) and saw the likes of Sasha and Carl Cox DJing there. In fact Sasha was resident DJ there at the time of the Loop gig… it’s other claims to fame (???) include appearing in an episode of the Hitman and Her, and short-lived rave outfit Altern-8 filming a video in the carpark. Anyway I digress.

We were seven or eight dates into the tour (you can tell that it’s some way into the tour as two band members are wearing Godflesh T-Shirts presumably purloined from the merch table) and had acquired a small band of five or six Soundheads plus Jim ‘Foetus’ (not the actual JF obviously)… who was following Godflesh and who we’d met at the previous gig at the Digbeth Irish Centre. Normally we hitched between gigs but with so many of us, hitching was a convoluted affair, so we figured out a (cheap but not very convenient) way of getting to Stoke which involved several local buses. This was one of those ‘seemed like a good idea at the time’ moments but was cold, uncomfortable, and very, very tedious.

Eventually our bus odyssey brought us to the Midland’s city of Stoke-on-Trent and we tracked down the Lazerdome. I’ve looked it up on Google maps and sadly it’s been replaced by Farm Foods. Anyway, we hunkered down in the foyer and after a while Robert appeared and took pity on us with a few cans of Red Stripe which raised the spirits and then put us on the guest list, which raised the spirits further. I managed to swipe a poster (which to this day resides on the wall of my office and still occasionally elicits a wry smile – I love the incongruity of Loop playing a ‘Nite Spot’)… I also swiped the running order and a handful of tickets from the bin!

Those Loop/ Godflesh/ World Dom shows were legendary and epic… what a phenomenal line-up. We really didn’t realise quite how good we’d got it! I’m not sure why it took this long but I think it was at this show that I really got the majestic mutoid mayhem of World Dom… I guess I’d been focused on Loop and Godflesh up till then… but there in the Lazerdome after a day on the buses, WDE got me. Maybe because I’d taken up my position stage-right, just in front of Steve Jameson (RIP) and took his bass pummeling right to the chest… who could resist those dub vibrations?

Anyway… the doors opened at 7:00PM which was at least an hour earlier than usual, with Godflesh taking to the stage at 7:30… World Dom at 8:05 and Loop on at 9:00. B y 10:15 it was all over.

As soon as the band exited stage right and the final notes of Be Here Now were fading, the house lights came on and, ears ringing, blinking like rabbits in the headlights, we were hustled out of the back doors. As we filtered round from the car park, we passed the masses of ravers were queuing to get in. It felt very us and them, ravers and freaks eyeing each other with suspicion. We headed off into the night and left them to it.

What made me smile looking back at this time is seeing all the online posts from the ravers that used to go to Shelly’s talking about the amazing times they had, the friendships they made, the drugs they took and the phenomenal music they got into… so maybe we weren’t so different after all?

Fuck it, course we were – some of my very best and oldest mates are Soundheads I met on the road, and we definitely had the better drugs (when we could get hold of them) and most definitely the better music! (even if it didn’t feature on the Hitman and Her…)