If you were a punk in Newbury during those days, there were 2 places you'd hang out - the Tap and Spile (which my parents were also wary of, but it didn't matter because I thought it was shit anyway) and Henry's - which kinda became the hub of the local scene. I used to play pool a lot and get drunk sometimes - I'd played a bit part in one or two local acts around this time but was nothing special, but somehow along the route I got talking to Darren Phillips.
Darren was a local legend. He ran, and lived, in a rehearsal space above a garage just out the back of Henry's, and he'd put together a ska band of various local misfits. It was kinda the band for people who wanted to be in a band but weren't... none of whom were especially great, but all of whom shared a passion for making music and having a good time. And sometimes, that's enough. Daz played guitar and sung. The drummer worked behind the bar in the pub - the singer was the landlord. Everyone else either just drank in the pub and wanted to party. The band was pretty much gig ready, and they wanted someone to play trumpet with them.
Soon enough, momentum gathered, one or two personnel changes occurred, tracks got recorded and the band was taking off. We played everywhere in Newbury and we played everywhere in Reading. I really believe we were the drunkest band around at the time. Playing gigs was like walking a tightrope - if we successfully made it through the rambunctious drunken shambles then we'd be heroes - if we fell off the rope and digressed into tumultuous, glass smashing chaos then we'd be absolute legends. Big Benji used to get so drunk, and jump around so much, that 9 times out of 10 he'd puke up during the gig. I remember once the mouth piece of my trumpet fell off halfway through the set and it landed in his puke bucket. It was pretty disgusting.
I was one of the more sensible and sober ones though. I could drive, and I had a bit of self control, which kinda resigned me to driving a lot. I didn't mind too much, and there were plenty of opportunities to make up for it on the nights when I wasn't driving, however by this time we were playing in London a lot, and occasionally going up north for a festival or something, so being the sober one in a band of pissheads started to take it's toll.
I'll never forget the night that the pub burnt down. It was heartbreaking. We'd played a show that night and I was driving the bus home with everyone in back at about 2 in the morning. On the outskirts of Newbury we got a phone call saying that there was a fire and people were worried if we were alright - we didn't have a clue what they were on about. I sped back through every red light on the Robin Hood round about, pulled into park way in the direction of Daz's lock up, and from as far back as the petrol station we could see flames in the night sky. At some point or another, every one of us had either worked behind the bar or had lived in the flat upstairs. I only lost a few years of memories. Some of my best friends lost so much more.
The band kept going for a bit longer and recorded an album called 'French Kisses and Chinese Burns'. There was a label who was gonna put it out for us, but I was worried we wouldn't make it that far. One summer - people started moving away. I was gonna be moving to London myself. Darren was married. Everything had changed.
We were going for about 4 years and played more than 100 shows, the last 3 or 4 of which were all billed as 'the last ever'. The album never got released.
A couple of years later I got a tattoo of a broken cassette tape with all the ribbon torn out of it - it was supposed to be symbolic of the music that no one would ever hear. But, thinking this was a bit cryptic, I got the band logo tattooed on my other arm - an upward facing arrow inside a key hole. The Lock Up.
Here's a video of us playing at The Camden Underworld.
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