Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before.
At school and at sixth form college I had a mate who was also the drummer in my band at the time. He was part-Goth, part-New Romantic, and a big Bowie, Toyah, Japan, Fad Gadget and One The Juggler fan.
We shared a passion for music - not always the
same music - and for song lyrics, too, though also not always the same ones. As a result, our friendship had its moments. While
I didn't regard myself as a Goth, per se, as you can see from the photograph above, I did wear a lot of black, especially around the eyes, as well as, copious amounts of hairspray; and I liked The Cult's Love album quite a bit, so you can understand why others got this impression. Others, like like my art tutor, who dubbed my friend and I,
The Black Hand Gang, which we quite liked.
I've since lost contact with Stuart. He changed his surname (
officially, he said) to something more romantic than his family name, which he hated. 'Haze' was his new surname, I think? I remember going to see the goth band he was fronting, as a singer/guitarist, at the Powerhaus in Islington in the early 90s. I don't remember
much about it though. I have a terribly vague memory of the 90s - funny that. And the last time I saw him was on Kentish Town Road, hand in hand with his gothic loved-one. I don't remember crossing the road to say 'hello'.
He had a job in Robert Dyas in our home town for a while before he moved to London, where I heard on the grapevine that he now runs, or works, for a web design agency, I can't find him on Facebook, like all those people you really want to know about.
Anyway, one day, during our time at Godalming Sixth Form College ('83-'85), he convinced me to accompany him to the legendary Marquee club, then still in its rightful place in Wardour Street, to see
One The Juggler (OTJ). This was probably my first gig in London. I remember seeing Lemmy on the way into the venue by the fruit machine, which is apparently where he could often be seen in the days before YouTube.
Currently residing in the 'Where-are-they-now?' file, back-combed beauties
Balaam and the Angel, were the support act that night; All big messy hair (except the guy on the right, obviously), 3/4 length trousers and espadrilles. Stuart and I both stood at the front in awe of these
proper musicians, and aspired to their greatness. I don't remember too much about One The Juggler's performance, but I recently had another listen to their songs to jog my terrible memory, and they definitely rang Romany bells.
So fast forward about 26 years and I am running a musicians network for older rock musicians, you know the one, when who should I receive an email from but OTJ guitarist Lushi Lee, AKA Jerry T Jones, who is recording and playing under a new alias
Glamweazel, and he's looking for gigs. He promptly sends me his record, which I respectfully put in the window of ROCK-TIL-YOU-DROP-RECORD-SHOP.
I put him in touch with my good friends Bugbear Promotions at the Dublin Castle, and Bowie's your uncle - they have a gig, at which I introduce myself. Jerry is a lovely guy, still passionate about playing original music, whilst keeping himself busy playing in covers bands. He is still lucky enough to have enough hair to pull off a backcombed mid-80s gypsy/goth look - if that's your thing - and with RayBans and in the right stage light, to resemble a cross between Bob Dylan and John Cooper Clarke.
Last night, he and his band played their second gig at The Dublin, which, while a little less well attended than the first, was still performed with charm and professionalism. And culminated in a rendition of the lighter-waving anthem for the older musicians of the world, active in relative obscurity,
Tangle Leads. Jerry also introduced me to another Juggler in the shape of Glamweazel's guitarist Colin Minchin, whose acquaintance it was also a pleasure to make.
One the same bill last night were old friends of RTYD,
14 Carat Grapefruit. The Grapefruits played a set which included a number of new songs: the
relatively new and already sticky
Porn Star; and the frightening
Fat Bloke in The Gym. Brand new were: the rugby supporters anthem
Let's Get Fucking Pissed, which asserted itself immediately among the Grapefruits' Greatest Hits, and the brief, yet hilarious, tribute to women's literature
Chick Lit, which will likely be featuring as a secret track on the afore mentioned fantasy LP.
As usual, I grinned and laughed the whole way through the set, as did the 50 or so strong audience, which included Liam and Ray from Kryptic Klu. I only wish I had been promoting the gig, because I would have been in a better position to introduce the bands to each other. I always enjoyed that role. Must have got that from my mum. Sadly, the old Dublin Castle In-Out Routine came into play, and the two bands and their fanbases passed like old ships in the Camden night.
The third band of four was a young 3-piece from Portsmouth, whose gig-atmosphere suffered from a mass Grapefruit fans exodus, but who at the same time seemed somewhat relieved that this exodus revealed that there were at least a handful of
young people left in the world. They then described the room as having resembled a "mortuary" during the first half of the night, which made me feel old and unwelcome, so at that point I made a discreet exit.
