Post by Klingoncelt on Jan 15, 2012 6:28:25 GMT -5
DO YOU KNOW THESE MEN ? ? ?
Its hard to imagine that where now stands anything BUT a Progressive, Trendy, Bohemian, Mavern of Creative Collusion, was in it's day, the personification of such a concept. Possibly the most eclectic, exciting place in the UK since that heady day of Mersey-beat , a veritable cultural leap, that surpassed anything that the regurgitated Mankers of the 90's could jangle, I'm talkin of course about Birmingham, England circa 1980...
If you survey the current landscape of Chained Pubs, Vodkas Bars & Corporate Bedding one could be excused for not getting the essence of the City’s almost lost but certainly legendary past. Where Clinton once scoffed on a pint, [of Ansells no doubt] - Was much the very centre of our Universe, the exact same same spot where we had the infamous "nights on the charlie" with various members of passing Rock & Pop bands, Exotic Dance Troops & countless Footballers, essentially whoever I wanted to party in my kitchen, you see I was the Chef so I has all the knives & keys...
There was of course only one commodity that was guaranteed to gain you access to the "special sink" - All brilliantly located as, directly outside the backdoor of said kitchen was the Old Canal [easy to dump the stash on any forthcoming raid]... Some how me thinks - Clinton would have preferred my kitchen party's, we even had Cigars...
There was also a maze of hidden rooms thru' the rear of the clubs dark recesses, which were shall we say, reserved for the most private of parties for-2. And of course there were several rooms where the local music scene incubated the city's raw talent, such as the fledgling musical ambitions of one Nicholas James Bates & another Nigel John Taylor. My first encounter in this mirrored temple of freaks, was as a fresh faced lad of 19, where I bumped into these 3 guys, huddled at the entrance to the Club, embarrassingly trendy, make-up, dyed blonde hair, frilly shirts & space invaders freaks, no it was not DD - but Dik, Mulligan & Luke otherwise known as Fashion - I was intimidated.
Fuck me, I didn't realise you had to dress up, it didn't say that in the advert merely mentioned about being a guitarist, I can do any guitarist, studied them all 69-77, I know I can pass any audition, & had done it a number of times, but what the clothes deal? ... So - Maybe the stylish bit in the add meant looking good & not playing that well. Anyway these guys infront of me look fcckin super cool & I really don't, maybe more Abbott & Costello than Elvis Costello.
"I'm looking for Juran Juran" ... "I've cum for the audition for the guitarist", thinking of course that these guys were DD ... "Oh you want to go that way & look for all the nice gear, ours is the crap stuff" ...
Instant inner "Thank fcck", they aren't the the band I'm auditioning for"... But then a second wave of paranoia seared thru my Geordie head "Shit do they all dress like that in Birmingham, I quite like the make-up thing, but I never knew it was so gay down here" ... My Northern machismo would later prove to be very misguided, never let looks deceive you - The girls were very delightful although the androgyny plus 10 Pils largers [them old beer goggles] & you may from time to time encounter the odd misplaced lump...
Anyway - I've written about that audition many times, & my many experiences with DD, however the "background story" of the times, the legend of Barbarellas & The Rumrunner, the significance of the scene & culture in Birmingham, has never been adequately accounted for or narrated from a perspective of "actually being there" ... So when I read Luke James book, aligned with a "Mystical" reunion in another place, I knew there was still some magic in the air... And my memory recalled a more vivid picture than I'de had for 30-years.
Most significantly, you just can't define culture in such a local manner these days, . Clubs have become these obnoxious "brands" - bollocks more like, brands eliminate progress, create culture for profit & are really nothing to do with street culture, clubs were the epiphany of street culture, elitist & exclusive, special, unique places that were driven by the perception of creating the impossible to become one of the "chosen" to access the ultimate experience, and if you couldn’t get in, just keep trying & they did week after week after week...
You simply couldn't buy your way into the Rumrunner if you looked like a knob-head you wouldn't get past Al or Paul... That's why Paul Berrow was so disliked, because he was elitist & bloody good at it... Aye I will credit the man for having vision & actually doing something about it, and I have to say he never scared me at all, the brothers were never aggressive to any of us, anyway - I would hit back. Although I do recall that there were "background overtones" of club gangland shit, the US label thought they were "Club Bosses" when we first went states side, so maybe this helped or maybe, after all was said & done - It was all just One Big Cliche...
The tale will unfold & be retold, before we get to old & covered in mould... More deeply superficial insights to come & the lawyers can take a hike this time...
The picture above is from around Sept 1980 & is of me sitting on the table just outside the infamous kitchen door
Picture taken by Paul Edmond
