Is this a record? No, but there’s a good chance someone has a shaky, distorted recording somewhere. What I’m getting at is I’ve been asked to do a review of a gig that happened 24 years ago! Before Boy Bands, the Libertines and even Madonna.
Mind you alcohol consumption and sheer adrenaline were a lot higher when we were all in our late twenties – ah – I was so much older then I’m younger than that now. Thank you Mr Zimmerman, what about Tony Dangerfield and Jack and Angi?
A gig in a cricket club, it could have been a rugby club or a garden shed with paint pots, dead geraniums and an illegal still. There was certainly an old sofa, springs sticking out I recall, in what was laughingly referred to as a dressing room. There was also a lot of lager and laughter, cheap brands and cheap jokes, in bottles and cans – a fair share of takings before the band took the stage. Snorting, smoking and dribbling, late on parade and late in the day.
Those back-stage never saw the support. Think they were called the Vectors, anyone remember anything about them? Were they third way punk?
The Shakers– the whole bloody cricket club shook, catches and misses, broke a few wickets, scored a few runs. God they were loud in full repose, knocking on and kicking in Heavens’ Door. Who do you love baby? All 3 in black leather jackets. Tony with a bandana tied round his wrist. Like Eddie, Gene and the Pirates had never happened. Vince Eager enthusiasm. Raw power, new songs, Tony doles soul to the new romantics. Shake a tail feather. Shake rattle and roll.
The myth of the moment – I must have been there, that’s my ticket to prove it. Hazy memories, a heady dose of rockin’ pneumonia, shakin’ all over and the boogie woogie flew.
Robin Forshaw-Wilson.
Rock Journalist
Mind you alcohol consumption and sheer adrenaline were a lot higher when we were all in our late twenties – ah – I was so much older then I’m younger than that now. Thank you Mr Zimmerman, what about Tony Dangerfield and Jack and Angi?
A gig in a cricket club, it could have been a rugby club or a garden shed with paint pots, dead geraniums and an illegal still. There was certainly an old sofa, springs sticking out I recall, in what was laughingly referred to as a dressing room. There was also a lot of lager and laughter, cheap brands and cheap jokes, in bottles and cans – a fair share of takings before the band took the stage. Snorting, smoking and dribbling, late on parade and late in the day.
Those back-
The Shakers– the whole bloody cricket club shook, catches and misses, broke a few wickets, scored a few runs. God they were loud in full repose, knocking on and kicking in Heavens’ Door. Who do you love baby? All 3 in black leather jackets. Tony with a bandana tied round his wrist. Like Eddie, Gene and the Pirates had never happened. Vince Eager enthusiasm. Raw power, new songs, Tony doles soul to the new romantics. Shake a tail feather. Shake rattle and roll.
The myth of the moment – I must have been there, that’s my ticket to prove it. Hazy memories, a heady dose of rockin’ pneumonia, shakin’ all over and the boogie woogie flew.
Robin Forshaw-
