Members and Hot Rods

A score for two ageing punk rock bands seems a bit steep and the venue seems to be a student hall of residence from what Debbie says. Sounds well dodgy. Anyway I'm looking forward to seeing a couple of classic bands in Eddie and the Hot Rods and The Members. I've seen Eddie (although none of them are called that or ever have been) lots of times in various pubs in the 80s and then again a few years ago at the Wild at Heart punk club in Berlin with Lutz where they went down an absolute storm and rightly so. The Members I saw a couple of years ago in London with Olly and Sheren.

I start the evening with a works leaving do and down a few pints at The Cow in Stratford Westfield. My work colleagues are mainly youngish types and although pretty aware of their musical history look blankly at the mention of the Hot Rods or Members. Odd as they've all spent a frantic half hour this morning trying to book Kate Bush tickets at crazy prices. One of them knows the 229 club as went to an all dayer punk festival there and said it's a pretty good place for bands. I hop on the Central line and change at Liverpool Street to the Circle line. Sitting down I notice a dodgy looking geezer opposite me who I then realise is Pete who is one of our trio tonight. We come out of Great Portland Street tube and cross to the Green Man for a drink whilst awaiting Simon who arrives en bike after a few minutes. Supping up we wander about trying to find the 229 club and indeed it is in a residential block of flats. Or under. There's another club alongside it which looks interesting, at least has a youngish crowd. Our crowd is far from young in fact us three are spring chickens compared to most. The hall is big and very surprising given that we're underneath a block of flats. I was expecting a low ceilinged dingy pit but this has a very high ceiling and the stage must be at least 5 foot above the dance floor. There are tables and chairs around the edges of the dance floor bedecked with tasteful white table cloths. Just as well as quite a few of the crowd need to sit down either due to age or infirmity or more likely both. The crowd is ageing punk; i.e. interesting looking but not outrageous apart from one or two the most notable being an 80s psychobilly with big quiff, shorn back and sides, leather jacket with Cramps motif on the back and serious creepers. He wasn't moshing tho.

The Members are soon on and a four piece this time. The drummer isn't Rat Scabies who I read somewhere was due to play and did last time I saw them and I find out later from the guitarist didn't turn up tonight. They play a decent set of punky reggae party tunes some of which are classics (Sound of the Suburbs, Off Shore Banking Business) and go down very well even getting a couple of folk dancing around especially towards the end. We three are saving ourselves for the main event. They give a bit of background to the songs and banter and we hear practically the life story of the main guy which you can also pick up from the song lyrics. A bit odd seeing them up so high on a big stage which I think makes it less easy to dance about right in front of them. They go off to a lot of applause and although the room is filling up a bit it never gets really full and there's always lots of space and room to dance madly (badly).

Not a member in sight

Eddie and the Hot Rods are on before we know it and launch into a blisteringly brilliant R&B set. R&B as in Dr Feelgood rather than Snoop Dog. It's classic pub rock but the 5 piece take control of the big hall and the audience filling it with big sounds. They sound really polished and deliver a really tight set taking in all their classics from Teenage Depression onwards. I have a fond memory of picking up Life on the Line at a second hand shop whilst on a summer holiday with my parents. Of course back then there was no instant music playback and I had to wait til I got home before spinning the wax on my turntable (as we put it back in the 70s). Back to the present day and a lot older than back then. Most of the crowd really look their age now with not many even swaying loosely let along dancing, even the Rods lead singer Barrie Masters needed a stool tonight. This inactivity doesn't stop me and Simon from dancing like loons but what ever did and we could hardly give up the opportunity to use so much space. Pete's doing his best but hampered by his plastic cast on his hand following his football injury. Yeah, I know, how did he break his hand playing 5 a side but it's a dangerous game. So the band are ripping through the songs and maybe it's cos I've had a few drinks but it's one of the best sets I've seen for a long while taking me back in time. They give us a couple of covers the most unlikely being Kraftwerk's She's a Model (which causes me and Pete to debate who wrote it before Simon incredulously tells us who it was, of course), the Stones' Satisfaction and a barnstorming version of Van Morrison's Gloria (yep, he did write a few good tunes even if unable to do them justice himself). After a well deserved encore the band exit stage left to rapturous applause and shouts of encore.

Not an Eddie in sight

Stunned at how much I enjoyed it we stagger upstairs into the sharply cold night where as we are chatting waiting for Simon to unlock his bike and not very enthusiastically debating whether to visit the other 229 night club we're accosted by someone who is bemoaning that the youth don't have any subculture any more. Not sure what he expects us to do about it but I tell him that it's probably there but just that he's too old to notice it. This doesn't go down too well and he accuses me of wearing a Ben Sherman shirt and being a mod (I have a B&W small checked Merc shirt on and a quiff). A couple walk past and get involved in the conversation / monologue and whilst the guy stays on the girl goes off on her own. I hope the two of them found each other again. At last Simon's unlocked his bike and located lights etc. and we're free to leave the subculturist and waving Simon off and thanking him for organising the gig Pete and I jump on the tube home. I have an uneventful journey apart from accosting a poor lad trying to read his book and banging on about the Moon and Sixpence I've just read. The guy seemed very interested bless him. I must resist starting drinking at 5pm on a Friday night. Although it did turn out to be a very good one.

The Eagulls Astounded

Greatly anticipated gig this having seen them, oh, it must be 2 years ago up at the trendy east London Shackleton Arms. Simon liked them so much he bought the T shirt just like we used to in the old days when we were young and starry eyed. They've just released their debut album and a damn fine one it is too. I looked to see where else they've played. The fantastic Brudenell Club in Leeds (many an enjoyable night and Live at Leeds afternoon spent there... did you see them Rams and Jo?) and, what's this? yesterday was the Kings Head in Birmingham. The name rings a bell and lo and behold it's the very same one in Kings Heath which was Rams Olly Beeswax and my local. It used to be a right old school boozer with a snug bar and saloon bar. Of course they hated women in the snug and (where else can a man go for a bit of peace and quiet) and I remember a friend of ours standing at the bar for ages whilst every bloke got served then the bar man had to fiddle with the pump. When she asked why she couldn't get served the bar man told her the rules. And now they're putting on enlightened punk rock bands (I assume that Eagulls are enlightened). For my 3 ex house mates I'll remind them that that's where we met the mad fozzy guy and the old man who we stupidly invited back with us and couldn't get rid of. Especially the old guy who fell asleep. The place we rented which turned out to have a resident alcoholic living in one of our bedrooms. Ah. The old days. Anyways fast forward just over 30 years...

Meet in the Old Red Lion at Angel which I used to frequent when first in London readying ourselves for a visit to the Pied Bull which is now a Halifax. Now, back in the 80s when Bruce Olly and I hit the town after a bottle of Strongbow cider on the tube... sorry, got caught in yet more nostalgia. As I was saying; meet Simon Pete and Jules in the pub and after a quick pint and seeing Wilshire's injury (6 bloody weeks he's out - for an effing friendly) we part from Jules and mosey on down to the venue Electrowerkz which is classic dark industrial clubland. Simon's cycling and must be the first punk to bring a wicker cycling basket into a punk gig. The bouncer thinks he's trying to sell roses but it's only laden with his helmet. We've missed Autobahn which is a shame as promisingly industrial name and the other support are great so assume they would be too. After failing to find the lower bar which I'm sure was here last time I get drinks (£9.50 for 3 cans of decent lager - Leeds prices courtesy of Eagulls?) and hit the dark room.

Primitive Parts are a 3 piece of 2 guitars and drums. No bass but they must've been hitting the fat strings cos it sounded pretty bassy. The PPs (as opposed the that seminal Brum punk band the PPs and the Pungent Smells, you don't wanna know what the PP is for) anyway the PPs are a bouncy guitary type of band that reminded me of a punk rock Talking Heads which I know is odd cos they were punk rock but you know what I mean - harder and rockier than the Heads. Great tunes and musicians and they get the crowed going with even a couple of folk looking like they were nearly dancing. Praise indeed for a support band in London. Simon considered Bauhaus and Pete Garbage which got us trying to remember the Garbage lead singer. The consensus was that they are pretty damn good to be placed alongside those three and the rest of the crowd liked them too. Once they're off to rapturous applause we head to the cheap bar and after a wazz (one shared unisex sit down and two at the urinal - with cheap beer too, how do they cope) we're back into the main room and squeeze towards the front (it's very long and thin) for the main event.

Eagulls hit the stage running. Musically not physically as most of the five present a languid attitude reminiscent of Richard Hell's boredom and don't look like they would be bothered to run for the bus. The music however is very energetic and upbeat and gets the crowd going from the start. They remind me of The Others who I loved with their understated vocals massively high tempo music and blisteringly poignant lyrics. Eagulls are great. So great that the dancing down the front gets pretty energetic and as is the case either draws you in or repels you away. Simon can't resist and when I look round from the band I can see his shaved head bouncing around near the stage being pushed this way and that. Back in the day it was called dancing down the front but I think the term now is in the mosh pit. As I've a bulky geezer placed in front of me and I've no room to dance and I'm a bit concerned about my wicker basket carrying friend (OK, he didn't take it down front but the thought of him moshing about carrying a basket tickles me) I tell Pete I'm going in and jump into the breach to rescue mate Simmo. After being buffeted around on the waves of punk rockness I reach Simon and we dance like old times Killing Joke style tils we're rudely shoved in different directions. The band are right on the button and once I've started I just can't stop. The bassist looks bored throughout but after a bit of a solo or as near as we're gonna get the moshers stop to cheer him and he can't resist breaking out into a grin for a few seconds. It's all very good natured in that if you go down under you get pulled back up. The band end and despite the pleas we have no encore and soon we're all deposited outside with Simon cycling off and Pete and me tubing south on the Northern Line. Next day Simon texts saying he's bruised and I laugh and only realise I am too once showering at work. Ouch. But it was definitely worth it. Go catch them!

Photos. Slightly better than Big Ups in that I have one of the support but every time tried to take one of Eagulls my phone was in danger of being whacked into the air so didn't actually get one of the band rather than the ceiling. As compensation you're in for a treat - one of the fozzy bloke in Kings Heath (I've lost the one with the old bloke who will definitely not be on this earth still so probably better to not let you snigger at the departed) plus a lovely one of Olly and Beeswax. And cos it wasn't easy to do selfies with a 1980s Russian single lens reflex and so I haven't any of me here's one of me Rams Olly at a party when 18. Christ we were good looking if I say so myself. Ha!

Primitive Parts primeval beats

What on earth are you two doing?

Chalk and Bees

Ripping it up house party style

Big Up The Punks

Meet mate Pete in the usual Old Street pub and after a swift one toddle off to The Old Blue Last where we're the only ones who aren't asked for ID. As most of the blokes had pretty impressive beards, in that they were hairy, not that beards are impressive, they seemed pretty surprised to be asked. And that sums up the crowd really. Beardy drainpiped trendy east London types. The blokes. Not many bearded ladies but vintage or club looks with DMs as de rigueur. Pete and I grumble about how everyone looks the same as there's no tribalism anymore. Which is good cos people don't hit each other because of their music tastes but bad cos you don't get peacocked punks, grungy bikers, dapper skins and mods etc. Then we wonder if there are still teeny tribes but we just don't get the nuances in dress. Lamenting the lack of a proper pub character (drunk and shouting in the corner) we think that we are probably the nearest to it and decide to depart the trendy light downstairs bar to see the first band upstairs.

It's pretty busy in the small venue already and soon the three piece HAPPYNESS take the stage right on time at 9pm. Maybe it's busy cos it's a free night of punk rock and who wouldn't be attracted to that? What's not to like as the modern phrase seems to be. Anyways Happyness don't live up to their name in fact they start off downright miserable with the tall gaunt guy murmuring lyrics we can't hear. The first song has straight up basic rock drumming, which is a good thing, with those vocals making it a sort of post punk miserablist effort. The two front guys are guitarists with one strumming a big sounding rock n roll guitar - you know the ones which aren't solid and a bit like a slide guitar sound. The tall guy singing sort of picks around on his. It's a good start and then the tall guy changes to a bass and the rest of the set is songs of different tempos from punk to shoe gazing with the guitarist getting quite excited at times and nearly rocking out. It felt a bit like they were holding back but it sounded good all the same. Very rhythmic at times with an understated stoner rock interspersed with some great drum and bass rock. They go down well and I wonder if they're local. (Since found out. Not really but south London).

After a drink downstairs which is getting very crowded we go back up to an even more packed venue for the main event which is the american punk band BIG UPS. They are a classic shouty punk band reminding me of Big Black with a great sound. Drums and bass pushing them forward and thrashy guitar. The singer is a sort of younger and less extreme Iggy Pop. OK, a lot less extreme. But he does throw shapes on stage and pulls at his T shirt a lot before taking it off. His voice is great and just right for the band. Big Ups get the crowd going and although they are in the same vein as many older american punk bands they don't seem at all regressive and sound original. And energetically punky which is what it's all about ain't it? By the end of the set they've even set off a mosh pit which is pretty darn impressive given the usual detachment of London crowds and younger trendy ones in particular. As the set ends with a bang the band tumble off the stage and nip through the crowd to their changing room or whatever it is. Pete and I finish our drinks and go out into the fresh night air agreeing that two great bands for free can't be bad. An uneventful tube journey gets me home albeit slightly wobbly as it's a while since I've been on the premium lager. Punk rock indeed!

As I didn't take any photos here's a gratuitous one I pass every day on the Regents Canal...

Punk Rock Pigeon

STOP PRESS! Here's some proper photos...
http://www.thisisfakediy.co.uk/articles/photos/big-ups-the-old-blue-last-london/