Showing posts with label rolling stones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rolling stones. Show all posts

Wednesday 23 December 2015

95 / 96 – BritPop and Lime Green Summers


As we draw a close to 2015, and approach 2016, it’s dawned on me that it’s been 20 years since one of the favourite periods of my youth.

I say youth, but does 20 years old count as a youthful age!?

Both 1995 and 1996 bring back many memories for me – thankfully most of them good! I remember feeling in just a bit more of a bouncy good mood and seemingly much more confident in myself for some reason, having been quite the shy lad for far too many years. I think that maybe the glandular fever, anaemia and fatigue I’d had flirtations with over the few years previous had finally been left in the past, and I never really felt I had anywhere near enough the fun in my late teens as I ought to have had.

I can’t even specifically put my finger on why these years have lingered longer in the annals than others. There were no life changing events, but the time just had a buzz for me that for whatever reason I’ve not been able to easily forget.

So what was it about ’95 and ‘96?

Maybe it was the music?

In the first half of the nineties, I found that there wasn’t a particular collective of music that I could (or wanted) to fall into. There were, of course, many fantastic songs during this period though – indeed one of my favourite ever songs came out in 1994 (Baby I Love Your Way Big Mountain), but largely the charts felt just much of a muchness. And then out of the shadows of the rumblings of the Indie scene, came its commercial cousin: BritPop
 

It had taken me a while to get into any kind of alternative genres, as perhaps my tastes were limited? But once I’d listened to Blur’s ‘Parklife’ and Oasis’ ‘Definitely Maybe’ albums, I – like many others – fell straight in with it. Blur’s follow up album ‘The Great Escape’ came out in the late summer of 1995 and I loved it instantly.

There was also a huge amount of hype that surrounded BritPop, culminating in a media / press battle going on between the two powerhead bands previously mentioned. I suppose it was a modern day equivalent of the 1960’s chart battles between The Beatles and The Rolling Stones (albeit not sales volumes wise) although those two legendary bands were actually on friendly terms with each other, and the same couldn’t be said about Blur and Oasis! It wasn’t just those two bands though – there was suddenly a ton of good music around. The Different Class album by Pulp, to name but one additional gem, had a number of songs that gave a keenly accurate soundtrack in representing the time we were living in.

BritPop has rightfully gone down in history as an immensely popular phase of music, and although it was all too short lived, it provided a helluva soundtrack for the mid-nineties.

To compound the zeitgeist I went with friends to Wembley Arena to see Blur in concert just before Christmas, and Pulp at the Brighton Centre a few months later. Bands at their peak and in their prime, and both were cracking gigs full of energy. Oasis at Knebworth was out of reach unfortunately!

It wasn’t all about BritPop though. Earlier in 1995, as a huge fan I’d been long awaiting the new Michael Jackson album, and when ‘HIStory’ was released, I wasn’t disappointed.

I’d also been to see The Rolling Stones at Wembley Stadium, and the self-styled ‘Greatest Rock & Roll Band’ could still do the business and belted out their back catalogue in some style. And for completeness, even The Beatles made something of a comeback, having a hugely successful mini renaissance with the release of their Anthology series – in fact in 1996 they ended as the biggest selling album artists for the first time in nearly 30 years. Gradually building up my massive music collection, I was grateful to receive their ‘Abbey Road’ album as a Christmas present in 1995.

Not only that, I was also happy as Michael Jackson attained the coveted Christmas number one single (when it actually meant something!) with ’Earth Song’, holding off The Beatles’ ‘new’ track ‘Free as a Bird’, and the respective versions of ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis and The Mike Flowers Pops.

The range of music was immense, and I could waffle on about loads more, but with the word count ticking up, I’ll summarise to say that we also had the euphoria of Three Lions, taking the already stunning Lightning Seeds further into orbit. Plus the phenomenon of the Spice Girls:
 
Not forgetting Paul Weller’s ‘Stanley Road’ and the return of George Michael – who’d been away even longer than Michael Jackson. And of course, the Return of the Mack

Maybe it was the football?

This was also a monumental period for football. I’m not talking about Euro ’96 though, although that WAS stirring for the memory banks in many ways too, but ultimately football did NOT come home as we had ultimately wanted it to. As alluded to above, you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing the football anthem ‘Three Lions’ being played from a pub or a car that summer – very catchy and emotive stuff.

No, I’m talking about the pitch invasion at Brighton and Hove Albion’s Soldstone Goldstone Ground as fans drew attention to the footballing world about just what was happening to our club.
 
Football often provides a backdrop to my recollections, but the period 1995 – 1997 inclusive was about as intense as I suspect it will ever be in my lifetime.

In April 1996 we played York City. We’d heard rumours that ‘something’ would happen, but no-one expected the scenes that followed at around 15 minutes into the game. I was in the North Stand and watched on as thousands of fans poured onto the pitch in a bid to get the game abandoned. The national media called it a ‘riot’, which it never was. There was a family in front of us on the pitch eating strawberries and cream from a picnic basket, whilst sitting on a rug. That is NOT the scene of a riot. After a few minutes, the game was indeed abandoned as both goal crossbars were snapped in half, making it impossible for the game to be restarted.

Thankfully it became quickly evident that hooliganism was not alive and well in England again, and that Brighton’s fans protests had absolutely been a cry for help. Our club was being ravaged by money-men and wrong doers, and we – the fans – were caring for it in a very animated way. It carried on in a similar vein for another 12 months, when we ultimately proved that off the field, fans united will never be defeated.

On the field it was very hard to get behind the team with such aggravation going on, but once the directors had left the scene, the focus and atmosphere at the home games in particular was spectacularly good, as we fought for our very existence. For a passionate football fan, these were thrilling times.

Maybe it was work?

Aged 20, I’d still not decided what sort of career I wanted to have (at 40 I still haven’t!) but work was at least relatively care free and fun during this time, as referred to in some of my earlier blogs:




Christmas at work in 1995 was the start of some proper responsibility based grafting. My manager had broken her ankle just before Christmas and had to take the whole period off work, so with the deputy store manager having little faith in her understudy, I was asked to run the Deli over Christmas. I loved my first taste of properly being in charge, and I pulled up trees to make the counter as successful as possible over the main period of 21st-24th December. Considering I was quite the novice, we did spectacularly well. I finished at 5pm on Christmas Eve absolutely knackered, but I knew I’d done a really good job and consequently I got my first ever promotion at work – with my pay rising up to all of £6.50 an hour!
 
My achievement didn’t come without an element of jealousy from others sadly. Two or three work colleagues, who up till then had been really good friends of mine, turned on me simply because I wasn’t ‘one of the lads’ anymore in their eyes. Fair play to one of them, who some months later actually apologised to me for saying I’d had an attitude problem.

I firmly believed that no-one had any grounds to be so unkind – they turned on me just for effect. It made me think of something my Dad had said to me years before, in that your work mates are never your friends – just colleagues and acquaintances, and I should always bear that in mind. Maybe it’s too much of a generalisation, but there are strong enough elements to compound the theory on occasion. Bizarrely I got a second promotion at work just 6 months after the first and the new problem I had to contend with, was being intimidated. 

The store manager was literally a larger than life guy, and in all honesty I don’t recall more than 3 or 4 conversations I ever had with him in the few months we worked together. In the interview he asked me what I thought about people with a big ego. I honestly answered that:

I can’t stand that sort of person” – to which he replied:

Well you and me aren’t going to get along then!”

I still have no idea if he was joking. Either way, I spent most of the first month hiding in the toilets on my own at lunch break.

And people say I wasn’t shy…!

Oh, and a top tip for y’all: Do NOT date work colleagues.
#learningcurve


Maybe it was miscellany?

In 1995 I started writing poetry. I’d never been that fussed about reading poetry, let alone composing it, but I started in earnest and began writing down thoughts and poems about relevant things to me and ended up carrying on for years. It was always written in an emotional theme and always with a lot hope and desire that one day I’d gain a particular kind of contentment and happiness. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I more or less ‘dried up’ writing at around the time my son was born. It seemed that maybe as an unwritten statement many of my hopes had been reached.

I also had a car chase in the wee small hours with my lights out one night in the summer of ’95! The least said about that the better…!
 
In 1996 I bought my first desktop personal computer. Hardly anyone I knew had one – compare that to now, where people simply cannot operate their lives without such similar derivatives. Ridiculously it cost over £2000!

I also played a lot of snooker around this time and frequently went to ‘The 147 Club’ in Brunswick Street, Hove, which was always good fun. We always used to have a great laugh at the expense of the bar staff there – in particular a guy we used to call ‘Serge’, after the Bronson Pinchot character in the Beverly Hills Cop movies. One night a few of us won the £250 ‘cash pot’ out of the fruit machine which was a nice little bonus!

Maybe it was sociality?
I don’t know what changed, but from about mid 1995 I belatedly started having a decent social life at last – even going out clubbing midweek, whereas before I wouldn’t bother going out anywhere if I’d had a bath earlier in the evening as it just felt like too much effort.

Quite often from 1995 and even more so into 1996 (even though I usually had work the next day) I would end up nightclubbing down the Event II on a Tuesday or the Paradox on a Thursday – the so called ‘student’ nights. The booze was as cheap as chips (usually no more than £1.50 a drink) and there was a heavier emphasis on playing a lot more of the music I liked. It was far more commercial than would be heard on a Saturday at the same venues, so I was more inclined to enjoy myself for that reason alone.
 
I even hit a spell of doing what most 20 year old boys should be doing – namely being on the pull! Honestly this was a relief as I was starting to think my middle name was Chastity. Friends and family even pondered that I might be gay. I think my mum would’ve loved a big gay son!

It’s fair to say that I had no idea what I was myself though as a) I had so little attention coming my way, and b) I was pretty uninclined to try as I was too shy to ask anyone out anyway!


Anyways – actually managing to occasionally pull helped my confidence no end and socially I felt I’d grown up a bit at last… though in my naivety I recall getting stitched up very early in 1996. Me and some mates were at the Paradox and I wound up buying this one girl drinks all night etc. only for her to sod off without me come 2am
#morelearningcurves

I believe this was also the night when me and one of my mates got out of our Taxi about half a mile from home and, (as drunk) fell over and had a little sleep in the middle of the road! I reckon Taxis and any cars must have just driven round us paying little attention – we must have been there for a good twenty minutes though! I would guess it was the uncommon knocking back of the Jack Daniels shots earlier in the evening that did for us…

Another nights’ exertions lead to the aerial of my first car (a 1978 brown Mini Clubman – RIP) being snapped off by one jealous colleague, and an aggressive confrontation in a Sainsburys chiller by another jealous one! If this was the norm, I’d clearly missed out on this sort of fun for years. #evenmorelearningcurves

Another funny night was had at the Irish pub ‘O’Neill’s’ (where, incidentally, Brighton & Hove Albion was formed in 1901) with a terrifically funny guy from work and his family and mates (all Irish.)

His brothers were playing in a band there, and we got absolutely slaughtered on Guinness and I knocked back ten pints in just under two hours, ‘singing’ along to Irish songs I didn’t know the words to. I’d never drunk such volume so quickly before, and I’ve not done it since either, but the atmosphere was so good and everything just flowed perfectly. At around 10pm we staggered over to the night club and had to straighten ourselves out to make sure we actually got in – I remember being ordered to stop singing in the queue, or we wouldn’t be allowed in. Nightclub bouncers were often a different breed, but I never once got refused entry.

Maybe it was the Lime Green summer?

1996 was a glorious summer – and for no other reason than everyone seemed to be wearing lime green clothes for the duration, it was forever known to me by that moniker. On the beach or seeing customers whilst I was at work… it seemed to be the colour of choice everywhere.
 
Maybe it doesn’t matter…

I know that it Definitely Maybe wasn’t Maybelline.

But it was Definitely Maybe memorable to me.
 

Friday 24 October 2014

November 1993

Someone asked me recently if I missed going out on the lash and pubbing and clubbing. I honestly hadn’t given it much thought, having been so busy since the time when I guess you could say that I ‘stopped’ doing all that.
Giving it some reflection though and casting my mind back, I have to say that initially (i.e. the first three years worth of clubbing) I didn't really enjoy it at all.

I’d been drinking in pubs for years – my first time being half a Guinness that my dad bought for me at the St George Inn in Portslade when I was about 4 years old. I was sitting at his feet at the bar and he opted to hand me down a half of the black stuff rather than a coke for that particular round!
But in terms of clubbing, I first went in November 1993.


Most (though not all) of my friends used to go to The Event nightclub (now called Prizm) in West Street, Brighton but in truth I virtually had to force myself to go, as I really wasn’t fussed about going. I had glandular fever and anaemia around the ages of 17 to 19, so maybe that explains my nonchalance to it all! Not that the first night I went clubbing was uneventful though…

I remember that first walk down the stairs into the club and seeing a particular girl from school – a girl that virtually everyone fancied – walking towards me and my mates. Now I’ve never been keen on girls being too heavily made up with garish lipstick etc. and have always preferred a more natural look, but she looking stunning and it struck me that we were no longer kids in a playground.

I didn’t get drunk, but that was mainly because I hadn’t really found my tastes in alcohol yet. I’ve never really liked beer, and I hadn’t discovered spirits at that time, so I tended to just push and tolerate my way through a few bottles of Budweiser and peel the labels off just waiting till midnight when the ‘decent’ music started. This would be a forty five minute session of 80’s music or commercial chart songs. I was never into the heavy techno, trance or garage music that was played for most of the night. I was far happier listening and dancing to Michael Jackson, Madonna, Wham!, Madness, Dexy’s Midnight Runners etc. than the other stuff on offer. They even played Beatles and Stones songs on occasion.

Pretty much that became the pattern for a few years. Save money, go clubbing, drink poor beer, enjoy 45 minutes of music, eat takeaway chicken and taxi home.
Hardly exciting times, but just to add to my indifference on that first night, on the way home one of the lads in our cab was sick which meant the rest of us chipping in to pay the cabbie the ‘clean-up’ fee. Deep joy.

And if that wasn’t enough, when I got home I found I had great difficulties in taking out one of my contact lenses. I kept trying to get hold of it and pinching and missing before eventually being in tremendous pain. It turned out I must have been at least partially inebriated as I’d actually already got the lens out, and was in fact pinching my eye-ball. Eventually I went to a&e, and after a few hours and scans later, the doctor said I had three scratches across my eye and put a few drops over them to ease the pain… though I had to put up with triple vision for a few days.

After a few years of trudging through boring nights out, things finally improved as I started to find other club nights, like 80’s nights and student nights (with music I liked played endlessly)…and the cheap spirits and mixers offers often helped!
It was mainly about the music for me, but once I worked out what drinks I genuinely liked (dark rum and coke / southern comfort and lemonade) I found my enjoyment of the nights out increased immensely.

And I believed I’d found the answer to clubbing enjoyment in one word:
Friday

Such a different group of people would go out in Brighton on a Friday night compared to a Saturday night. The atmosphere was so much more relaxed and you didn’t have to actively try and avoid the people who couldn’t handle their shandies.
My Friday nights between the ages 22 to 26 took on a life in itself. Work pending, I was out with a certain group of friends every other Friday. It possibly looks uninspiring looking back, and I didn’t travel the world and change lives etc…I just had a really enjoyable social life with my friends, with such a simple routine: 
  1. Get ready between 4-5pm – music a-blaring throughout
  2. 6pm: With a full wallet (£60) make way to friend’s house for a few alcoholic 'tasters'
  3. Get to the Pull & Pump Pub at 7pm-ish and await the arrival of others in the crew
  4. Move on to the Quadrant Pub for 8pm (cart wheeling through the Imperial Arcade on the way) - insist on the bar staff putting THIS on the jukebox and gently mocking the Bryan Ferry and Mark Owen look-alikes
  5. Down to The Event (by 1015pm to avoid the queues)
  6. Get hammered on cheap booze, do a circuit of the club to see who is about.
  7. Dance ourselves sober

  8. Get hammered again (do another circuit - week after week we would contrive to not pull a single girl- this is why >>>
  9. Leave at about 130am to avoid the crying girls who invariably had lost their purses
  10. Go to Hungry Years night club (RIP)...

    ...to meet with others in the crew
  11. Head to Subway for a foot long double (quadruple) cheese, double bacon, single turkey, BBQ sauce and salt fest… served by a kid we called Andy. But that wasn't his real name… or was it? He might have been called Bob.
  12. Walk as far as we could before we were just too knackered to go on... and hail a cab with whatever change we had left, and get dropped off wherever the money ran out
  13. Leg it across Easthill Park kicking an imaginary football into the goalposts that were set up for the Saturday morning league games
  14. Get home at around 3am and go on ICQ to talk again to the people I’d spent all night with
  15. Start to eat Subway...fall asleep
  16. Wake at 7am to finish Subway and down a glass of strawberry milkshake and rejoice at yet another night out with no hangover!

Happy days… the trend stopped during 2001, and after that I had children and priorities changed!
When I stopped going, I definitely missed it, but I think I’d had my time and in particular I thoroughly enjoyed the latter part of it. Many of my other mates who didn't come along used to give me tremendous stick for my habitual routine, but I couldn't care less… it was my music and my time and I loved it.
And tellingly, whenever they came with us, they tended to love it too.

I went many years before going clubbing again, but relived a few good nights nonetheless. When Michael Jackson died in 2009, during a period when I was going through something of a personal breakdown, I went to The Event (by then renamed Oceana) as where better to go to grieve on various levels than to somewhere that was celebrating his musical legacy. They didn’t let me down and literally every other song that night was a Jackson classic.
And this boy was last seen leaving a nightclub in August 2009, with Black or White playing in the background…


Update!
Rummaging around I came across the song list for that first night clubbing - the aforementioned '45 minutes of decent music':

Boom! Shake The Room - Fresh Prince & DJ Jazzy Jeff
We Will Rock You - Queen
Right Here - SWV
Grease Megamix - John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John
Summertime - Fresh Prince & DJ Jazzy Jeff
Satisfaction - Rolling Stones
Out Of Space - The Prodigy
Leader Of The Gang - Discredited 70's artist
Baggy Trousers - Madness
Atomic - Blondie
Come On Eileen - Dexy's Midnight Runners
People Everyday - Arrested Development
Moving On Up - M People
Informer - Snow
Jump Around - House Of Pain
Relight My Fire - Take That & Lulu

Just don't ask me why I still have that play list to hand!


Update 2016!!!

Remember the girl on the stairs at the Event near the start of this blog?
Well in August 2016, I bumped into her for the first time in years at a friend’s birthday party.
 
Many mutual friends from back in the day were there and as 40 year olds we drank, laughed and danced to 80’s / 90’s music galore, just like before. And for completeness I thought it might be nice to offer up this little soundbite that she told me:

I miss nights like these…”