Bellshill to Brum:TFC and me

When I was 14 year old trainee indie kid, my favourite thing to do was go to Birmingham to record shop with my mate Trig. I say record shopping, our paper round money only stretched as far as the train ticket and a lowly lunch (always, I seem to remember, a can of fizzy Vimto and a packet of salt and vinegar Disco's crisps), but we did like to look at the records and the cute girls in stripy tights and Mega City Four t-shirts. Though we didn't discuss it, we both hoped to run in to a pop star whilst in the big city, one of Ned's Atomic Dustbin perhaps, or the holy of holies Miles Hunt out of the Wonder Stuff.*

           One day, in Birmingham's Virgin Megastore, I was flicking through the 7” singles while Trig rifled through the CD's downstairs. Across from me, on the other side of the rack was Norman from Teenage Fanclub. I knew it was him from reading the NME with religious zeal. He had the trademark long centre parting and Lennon specs and was wearing a dufflecoat and singing along loudly to the Neil Young track blaring out of the PA.**I stood awestruck. It was if George Best or Ghandi was in your local Co Op. I stood and watched him for a while, desperately trying to find something to say to him, but my bottle went so I joined Trig to look at the PWEI shorts upstairs. Later while drinking pop and eating crisps in Victoria Square, freezing in our long sleeve t-shirts (much to the chagrin of our mothers but vital to show off our indie loyalties) I didn't mention the sighting to Trig. It was a little because I knew he would be annoyed I didn't grab him immediately (he would have certainly had the courage to say hello), a little because I thought he wouldn't believe me but mostly because I wanted the moment, the little bit of magic, to be my own.

                                                                              At that point the only Teenage Fanclub music I actually owned was a cassette compilation which included What You Do To Me. I decided this situation needed rectifying post-haste. I felt I owed it to my new pal Norman to listen to his records properly. So, I consulted a lad in the year above called Kev Walder. As well as being Shropshire's premier expert on Depeche Mode, he was very friendly and happy to assist and advise aspiring indie kids. He told my I needed to get a copy of Bandwagonesque, which had a pink cover and and money bag on the front. I saved my paper round money and bought the cassette from Rainbow Records. It was love at first listen.

                                   Cut to a few later, it's a deliciously hot day at the Phoenix festival. Teenage Fanclub are on-stage and my pal Sam and me are sat towards the back being gamely chatted up by two girls from Newcastle. “You know what I do if I'm enjoying a band?” asks Norman “I like to wave my shoe at them. Can you wave shoes at me?” With that the view to the stage is blocked by hundreds of items of footwear being held aloft. Norman lets go a cheeky grin and tunes up. It's around this time it occurs to me I'm doing one of my favourite bands an injustice by sitting down at the back and need to experience them from the front. I make my excuses to the girls and Sam (who look at me like I've lost leave of my senses) and slalom my way through the people sat crossed legged, avoiding knocking paper cupped pints over, to go to the front. As walk, the sun pops up above the stage and the opening chords of Alcoholiday ring out. This is, by far, is my favourite Fannies song by a mile at this stage and it's the only time I've seen them do it live. There's something magical about it, being young, a little drunk, the mix of sunshine and those lazy, woozy chords. It's some kind of magic and remains one of my all time favourite live music moments.

Meanwhile, the Fannies release increasingly wonderful records and something called 'the internet' gets invented. I'm quite lucky, my dad is the secretary of his union and as such is responsible for sending 'emails' and before we know it we have a brand spanking new computer and a dial up modem. Whilst having all the information in the world at our finger tips is cool, it's actually more fun downloading music by the armful. Soon I'm looking up bands 'websites' and stumble across fans forums or message boards. Interestingly, Teenage Fanclub have their own message board. I decide to enquire within.

                       This was the period when message boards were at their absolute pomp. The TFC board was crammed with knowledgeable, friendly, funny people from all across the world. It's impossible to gauge how many bands and records I got into through the recommendations of this little on-line gang, everyone of them just as childishly daft about music as me. What I really loved was the sense of community, discussions went outside music and about everything from the mighty to the mundane. It seems daft now but I really felt amongst friends. When one of my favourite posters, a guy called TomTom died it really did effect me. I felt like I had lost a pal and in many ways I had. He was a great man, a total hardcore TFC fan who was funny and daft and lovely. I knew more about him, his loves, his politics, who he and his wife supported in the football and sometimes what he was having for his tea. The shock of has passing was real, as real as it could be for someone you had never met, and the place never really felt the same again.

                                                                        Sadly, the place went a bit Lord of the Flies. The was (probably still is) Guest setting where people could post anonymously which started off fine, some of the funniest posts were by 'Guesty' but soon it started getting a bit nasty and went out of control. Arguments would rage about football and, being Celtic and Rangers fans, religion and things started to get pretty horrible, with bullying and long ranting drunk abusive arguments being the norm. After a young man we shall call Milla took his own life due to on-line bullying*** is seemed prudent to join the real world again. I'd still pop in occasionally. There was a new LP called Man-Made out and I joined the discussion about how great it was. Someone had asked why the CD came with a card slip case. “Simple” replied Siobhan's Dad “It's for taking to the gig and getting signed”

When the Man-Made tour hit Birmingham I knew I was going to get the card signed. There was that kind of magic in the air. The train was full of excited people off to different shows. My gig was at the Academy 2, and almost comically small venue for such a great band. They didn't let us down though. The gig was incredible, all the favourites off all the albums (no Alcoholiday mind) and the crowd was small (Birmingham can be funny like that) but loyal and everyone had a great time. Afterwards I spotted Norman and marched up with my slip case and Sharpie and even managed a quick conversation while he signed, some gibberish about loving how 'dry' the new record sounded. “Oh” he said raising an eyebrow “thanks” and at that moment Gerry Love walked past and despite clearly wanting to be somewhere else was a darling and signed it too. I practically floated back to New Street Station.

The are bands we listen to when we are happy, those we listen to when we are sad and those we reach out for when something in life goes horribly wrong. There are bands we listen to that make us feel young, bands we miss and bands we hope make another record. To me, Teenage Fanclub are unique in so much they are band I've grown up and grown old with. Whatever has happened in my life, good and bad, big and small, they have been quietly in the back ground sound tracking it all. When it was announced Gerry Love was leaving the group I was quite saddened. Teenage Fanclub are like the sun and the lamp posts outside your front door. They are something you take for granted will always be there. 

          Happily, the bands aren’t splitting entirely and Gerry did leave us with some wonderful goodbye gifts in the form of the Creation era records being lavishly and wonderfully remastered. When I went to buy the first two (I could only afford to buy two a month , not because I was on paper round money but because I'm a dad now) it was at the end of the first proper summer in decades. I was still deciding which two to get on the way to the record shop when I bump into Kev Walder, demob happy from being let off work early and heading for the nearest beer garden. I tell him I'm off into town to get the new Teenage Fanclub record. “bloody hell” he says shaking his head with grin “nothing changes does it?” And he's right. It really doesn't.

*We never did meet Miles Hunt Birmingham but bizarrely bumped into him Shrewsbury when I was old enough to know better. In a weird twist, Mile's brother (the guy doing the Spinal Tap story in the Welcome to the Cheap Seats video) owns a local record shop.

**Baring in mind I didn't know Neil Young from Neil from the Young Ones at the time, I may have embellished that bit. But it was definitely something male and late 60's/early70's

***It should be pointed out that it was mainly bullying on another site though it a) certainly didn't help and b) makes it no less tragic

Songs that saved my life part 14:Teenage Fanclub-The Concept/ the Libertines-Time for Heroes

The first famous person I saw in the flesh (who I had not paid to see) was Norman Blake out of Teenage Fanclub. Trigger and I went to Birmingham record shopping when we were about fifteen. We hoped that we may bump into one of the Ned’s or even Miles Hunt, but soon put this down as silly school boy day dreaming. But there he was, in Birmingham’s Virgin mega store, singing his head off to a Neil Young song as he flicked through the racks. Wearing a duffle coat, long hair and trademark John Lennon specs. There was Norman out of the Fannies, looking just like he did in the pages of Melody Maker, checking out records just like we were. By the time I found Trig, Norman had gone, and I’m not sure he believed me. It would be a few years before Norman and I caught up again.

There are some bands that stay with you all through your life. Some bands remain in your life because of nostalgia and laziness, others because you genuinely love them. Teenage Fanclub are the latter in my life. Like many others, I first got into Teenage Fanclub through the single ‘What you do to me’, two and a half minutes of pure sixties sing along summer pop. The record barely left my turn table for a good couple of weeks, so it was no surprise when I hunted down the ‘Bandwagonesque’ LP. It’s a near masterpiece of harmonious pop music, wearing on its sleeve the influences of the Beatles, Beach Boys and Big Star as well as a watered down nod to Nirvana and Dinosaur Junior. The opening track, ‘The Concept’, typifies the album. Seemingly about a dream girl rather than a real girlfriend, the track starts with some wonky feedback and the most aurally pleasing opening couplet ever-“She wears denim wherever she goes/Says she’s going to get some records by the Status Quo, oh yeah”. The song plays like the said Quo being teased by a Nirvana high on Tizer. Just when you think the song has finished, a drum beat kicks into a beautiful outro that recalls the harmonies of Beach Boys via Neil Young. It’s perfect. On its year of release, America’s iconic Rolling Stone magazine voted Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ number two in its end of year poll. Number one was Bandwagonesque by Teenage Fanclub. Not bad going for bunch of long hairs from Glasgow.

Half the appeal of Teenage Fanclub is how nice they appear. As label boss Alan McGee put it “They are P.R. geniuses. People fucking love them”. They come across as not being caught in the ‘cool’ trap, as genuine music fans and genuine guys. This image cemented itself as I first got into the internet as a means of meeting other music fans and finding new records. One of the first places I found a home in was the message board on Teenage Fanclub website. Most band put these up as a place to market records and generally let the fans discuss what their favourite song was and ponder what type of underwear the band wore, but this place was a real community. Norman himself posted all the time, happy to recommend records and listen to others that other posters had fallen in love with. I’ve learned so much from that place. I’ve discovered so many great bands and records. It was a great place to keep in touch with people who, like me, where mad into music and who had friends who just were not into to the same things. The message board was not without its problems however. Like any community, there were arguments. Mostly about football, leading to some very nasty Celtic-Rangers, Catholic-Protestant debates. Because of the anonymous nature of the internet, it was rife with online bullying or ‘Trolling’. But the board stuck together and the nasty people usually got bored and left.

Another message board still thriving to this day is .org, a board for fans of the Libertines. The Libertines are seen as something as a joke these days, but when they first popped up they really did save British music’s bacon. At the time, any music not in the charts was in a post Britpop mish-mash of shit American bands. The kids had suddenly got into sub-Marylyn Manson Rocky Horror schlock rock in a major way. Imagine Alice Cooper joining Kiss-subtract the spooky fun and intelligence and you’re almost there. Fat kids in black t-shirts, finger less gloves and make up where in-fun, irony and humour were out. Amongst the worst offenders where Slipknot (a bunch of blokes in boiler suits and customised joke shop masks) who somehow caught the imagination of bored suburban kids everywhere by falling off a balcony in Wolverhampton and inhaling dead birds and vomiting on stage, and the tunes where just as bad as the ‘antics’. But the kids loved them, and where Dylan fans were ‘Bobcats’ and Beatles fans were ‘Apple Scruffs, Slipknot fans were known as ‘Maggots’. Nice eh? Worst though, was Fred Durst of piss poor ‘nu-metal’ combo Limp Bizkit. Not only was Fred old enough to be most of his fans’ father, he also elected to dress them. Now, as offended as I am at a man in his forties dressing in calf length shorts, a basketball vest and (true sign of a wanker this one) a backward baseball cap, what really worries is me is this-When did pop stars start dressing like their fans? Surely it has always (and always be) the other way round? And he was an executive on the board of his record company. Outside Scooby Doo, have you ever heard of such a sinister old man?

Thank Christ then, for the Libertines. Unbeknown to me at the time, I first heard the Libertines at an indie night in Shrewsbury called ‘Thrills, Kills and Bellyaches’. A refrain that went ‘I cherish you my love, I cherish you my love’ stuck in my head but being an indie snob, I recognised that the tune was a cross between ‘Happy Hour’ by the Housemartins and ‘Boys don’t Cry’ by the Cure and dismissed them. Luckily, a couple of weeks later I was at a house party where the hostess Helen played ‘CD random factor’-a game where she closed her eyes and picked a CD from a stack, thus instantly stopping any arguments about what album would go on next. My mate Mike Feast and I listened with a barely an interest, but we were sucked in as every track was as good as the last. At the end we insisted that the album (Up the Bracket) was played again. It was that good.

Before the Kate Moss and skag scandals made Pete Doherty a Sun staple, The Libertines where romantic, even innocent, to the point of naivety. Their sound was kind of punky with lyrics of a very English slant, their nostalgic whimsy making them more Sid James than Sid Vicious. The Libertines where appreciatively received by young music fans, who no longer had to put the with the out dated, luddite lager-rock of Oasis and by critics, who finally had something interesting to write about after desperately clinging to The Strokes for inspiration, a band for all their twangy riffs and ultra studied sub-CBGB cool, still came across with the collective charisma of Bill and Ted in a collarless leather jacket.

Initially, the Libertines, and in particular Pete Doherty, caused something of a renaissance amongst British youth. For all the critics of Doherty's music (and there are plenty, I’ve seen many a level headed music fan turn apoplectic with rage when the sobriquet 'genius' has been used to describe him and his songs), for all the people fed up to the high teeth of the 'Potty Pete' stories, what is undeniable is the effect he had over his admirers. He made music romantic again.
He inspired people. I have met people who have started bands, set up record labels; write poetry, put on nights, promoted live music, because of the ethic of The Libertines. I’ve met people who have become writers, musicians, fashion designers, artists, reviewers, bloggers, travellers, thinkers, because the saw a twinkle in Pete Doherty’s eyes and thought 'I can DO something. I can be different'. Hearts are won, the arrow ascends…

When the band first started to do ‘guerrilla gigs’ (tiny, genuinely word of mouth gigs that took place in peoples flats and the like) they advertised them on .org. This was where the Libertines hardcore got their information. The fans were obviously thrilled they could see their heroes play in the actual flat were their heroes lived, and the band were touched they could advertise a gig hours before it was due to start and people actually came. The kids went on search of the mythical ‘Albion’, a dog-eared yet romantic home for people who carried a battered paperback with them a dreamed of carrying this teenage feeling of artistic freedom into their old age.

From a magic marker-d ‘THE LIBERTINES’ scrawled on the ceiling of the Birmingham Academy to kids passing around dodgy copies of downloaded sessions and demos, it seemed something was happening. Not since the Clash had a band done so much to tear down the band/fan barrier nor had a band been held so firmly to a fans heart. When Doherty went to rehab, poured his heart out or simply wrote a new poem, he was able to post it to his appreciative audience. They, in turn, were free to respond by sending support and best wishes via the message board. The fans, I think, were just much as the Libertines story as Kate Moss and crack. When Doherty played a tiny solo gig above a ramshackle pub in Shrewsbury, the kids came from as far away as Glasgow and London just to be part of the adventure. They swapped emails and shared bottles. These are the people who, for however briefly, lived the Acadian dream.

After the descent and messy split of the Libertines, .org remains a fascinating curio of pop culture. The fans on it are a bit older now and a bit embarrassed by being swept away on the whole ‘Arcadian dream’ thing. (They shouldn’t be. It’s unlikely their kids will have half as much fun, adventure or inspiration following however their hearts and ears lead them too.). Yet the message board remains just as active as it always has. Through the initial poetic whimsy to the post Sun/Potty Pete influx of strangers and bitterness, .org still thrives. It’s an odd place, a genuine community with its share of people you like, dislike and feel sorry for. I know the personality of some of the posters better than anyone out a soap opera. It’s a place where a photo of a disabled person masturbating can cause discussion for months but collectively can solve almost any problem. I can’t think of a fan base that has had to deal with such a spectrum of change from a band-From wide eyed innocence to drug fuelled falling apart to your hero being involved with suspicious deaths and It’s telling that the board can switch from childish to grown up at the drop of a hat. They have really seen it all before. I wonder whether people will still post on there in ten years time, I suspect that they will.

***


Meanwhile, Teenage Fanclub went through the same period just as they always do. No super models, no drama, no drug fuelled falling apart-just the giving off of great attitude and the making of great records. It’s a good life being a Teenage Fanclub fan. It may seem like a lifetime between releases and tours, but there is always the amazing back catalogue to listen to. It may not have the thrills and spills of being a Libertines fan, but I suppose it depends on what you really want-exciting memories or new records. And, of course, there’s also the message board-possibly the friendliest place on line. If you ever fancy discussing your love of Neil Young or finding something new to listen to you should drop by.

There is something comforting in knowing that a band you have enjoyed for twenty two years still have it in them to come up with an amazing album. This is something I drunkenly told Norman as I finally met him (a stones throw from where I saw him originally and thirteen years later) and Gerry post gig at the Birmingham Academy. They were both the most charming people you could wish to meet. On almost exactly the same spot, a year later, someone would scrawl ‘THE LIBERTINES’ on the ceiling above us and someone else’s heart would be lost forever

Frank Blake-Dont let love pass you by

An absolutely wonderful curio for you today pop fans. Frank Blake was a short lived project from 1996 that consisted of one of brilldreams favourite song writers, Teenage Fancluber Norman Blake and former BMX bandit(and, at the time, future TFC member) Francis McDonald. Unsurprisingly for output from such thoroughly nice men, the output was hushed, relaxed and of good temper.

The pick of the bunch is B-side 'Don't let love pass you by', a McDonald penned little belter that takes the Byrds, The Beatles, Big Star and even Teenage Fanclub and makes a lush little pop stew. Released on Shoeshine Records, this is a proper old school 45, one which you can hum the melody half way through and sing the whole record after two listens. Pop perfection. It would sound perfect on a Dansette.

'Dont let love pass you by'-

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