Picture from Digital Spy

Your future dream is a shopping scheme! Anarchy in the UK indeed, if punk rock wasn't already dead then it is now. Or is it? The actual answer is no, because let's be totally honest, the Sex Pistols weren't all that punky to begin with. Okay so they said some variations on the word 'fuck' on Nationwide, the 1970s equivalent of The One Show but even that doesn't hold up nowadays, however shocking it was in 1976. The Pistols were put together by a svengali with pound signs in his eyes just as thousands of groups including The Monkees and One Direction were before and since, so the fact that they are now being used to push credit cards is only shocking because it didn't happen sooner. In fact it is surprising that Malcolm McLaren didn't go the whole hog and exploit the band's brief moment in the spotlight by licencing their image on breakfast cereal, toothbrushes, and whatever other shit impressionable pop fans part with their pocket money for. 

Ageing punks might get a kick out of handing over a credit card with the word 'bollocks' on it, but as John Mortimer QC managed to prove in Nottingham Magistrates Court on November 24th 1977, the word isn't even a sweary one so that pisses on that particular line of marketing. The fact is that no true punk would go for any band branded credit card, be it The Clash, Crass, Ramones, Stiff Little Fingers, Sham 69 or Anal Cunt (although it would be fun to pull that out of your wallet in John Lewis) any more than they would make the tills ring in a so-called alternative shop by purchasing a glass, mug, ashtray, alarm clock or set of golf clubs with a band logo on it. 

Today we have Iggy Pop selling car insurance (ironically for a company that don't insure entertainers), John Lydon flogging butter (although to be fair he did it with good intentions - to finance a PIL album, a far superior band to the Pistols), and adverts using The Ramones and Eddie and the Hot Rods songs, not forgetting that in 1991 The Clash helped to sell Levi 501s. With this in mind it is perhaps best if we don't get our knickers in a twist over this credit card. This is Virgin after all and I for one won't be rushing to trust my finances to a company that can't provide a decent Internet service or run their trains on time. By giving this publicity, (and I am aware that by writing this blog then I am part of it) we have done exactly what Richard Branson wants, talked about Richard fucking Branson!

The Sunday Alternative will return soon.

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June housekeeping

The audio book of Bowie Day (a short story inspired by A Christmas Carol) will be released on August 31st. In the meantime the book can be downloaded to your Kindle from here.

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@SteveOliver76

I had already decided that I wasn’t going to do my radio show this afternoon due to wanting to be fighting fit for a difficult week ahead. Tomorrow lunchtime I’m travelling to Teesside for my nana’s funeral and I really don’t want to be sneezing and sniffling all the way through such an occasion. Today’s date always means a mix of happy and sad as it is my mother’s birthday and the anniversary of the death of my paternal granddad, Granddad Eddie. I always post a nice photo tribute on my personal Facebook profile, this year I chose this.

Given that my nana recently died, I wasn’t sure how to handle my mum’s birthday this year. Of course I didn’t want to ignore it completely but I also knew that she might not be up for me ringing her up in the morning singing ‘Happy Birthday’, not that I’ve ever done that but this would perhaps not be the time to start. We had sent a card that was nice but not overly joyous, and I waited until we were home from lunch before I phoned her.

Waking up this morning was a difficult task as I could barely hear anything going on around me. Last night Nottingham was visited by the best live band this country has at the moment, Eddie and the Hot Rods at The Maze. I had been looking forward to this gig since Simon Bowlie (drums) told me about it last July so a cold wasn’t going to stop me, in fact my legs could have fallen off in a freak occurrence and I would have still soldiered through. After recommending the venue to the band following their last appearance in Nottingham, I was relieved to see such a big crowd turning out to see them. Especially as they had driven up from Southend for the gig.

It was nice to see them again and hearing their music always makes me a bit nostalgic for my time living in Southend. My time there turned a little sour in my memory as I met my wife there and subsequently lost four years of my life and career. Last time they were here I was told how much had changed since I was last there, a fact that was proved all too obvious when I saw this video that had been tweeted by someone who lives there. Apart from the pier and the promenade there was very little I recognised as the Southend I loved, and another Southender who incidentally now attends Nottingham University confirmed a few locations for me.

It was approaching two o’clock when I finally got home, and after washing up and having some tea and toast I caught up with the blog before taking Jack for a walk at about six o’clock this morning. Maybe that’s why I felt so shitty this morning, although I did pile a Lemsip and a couple of tablets on top of the few beers I had partaken.

Something nice happened this evening, in response to yesterday’s blog about Michael Barrymore and the fact that he should be back on television, I received a nice email from the man himself thanking me for writing it. The message from Michael can be read (with his permission to publish it) on my official Facebook page.

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When I was a teenager, I bought a vinyl LP called We Do 'Em Our Way, a collection of punk covers of popular songs. Some of them had already been released as singles so I was aware of such gems as The Flying Lizards version of 'Money' and The Sex Pistols take on 'Rock Around The Clock'. There was a song on the album that I was aware of; 'Eve Of Destruction'. Like most people, I was familiar with the version by Barry McGuire, but this collection introduced me to an exciting punk version by a band called The Dickies. Although I have always been into punk, the American end was a bit mysterious apart from the obvious Ramones, New York Dolls, and early bands who influenced the genre such as MC5 and The Stooges. Without the luxury of those Internets that we have nowadays, I couldn't find out more about The Dickies. The only thing to do was find more music. The only way to do this was to go into record shops (that's how long ago it was, we had record shops), and painstakingly hunt through the racks to try and find something. Eventually I found a copy of The Incredible Shrinking Dickies, and later a live cassette. Over the course of time, I have managed to see the band live about ten times. Some of these have been supports for other bands, but I have seen them headlining their own show a couple of times.

The Dickies supported The Damned tonight at Rock City, and stole the show, blowing The Damned right off the stage. I was very disappointed in The Damned, having been a fan for so long and having seen them so often, (tonight was my fifth time), what made it worse was having to write an honest review. The sad fact is that the band were going through the motions. Things started badly when one of those twats that throw beer around threw a drink onto the stage, prompting a rant about how it would be his fault if they had finished the show there and then.

I have only noticed beer throwing recently, perhaps as a substitute for crowd surfing. Rock City, like most venues, is what I call a plastic pot venue. This is in no way a criticism, plastic pots are a lot safer in these circumstances. Because of the plastic, I can't stomach the taste of beer or Guinness this way, so I drink lager. Anyway, a pint of Carlsberg, costs £3.20 a pint at Rock City, (I think). Now I know that £3.20 for a pint is actually rather cheap these days, but it is a lot of money if you're not going to drink it but instead throw it into the crowd. It has to be about the most anti-social activity to undertake at a gig, and the security should do something about it, like grab the little bastards by the collar and throw them out into the street.

The first time I saw The Damned was at The Fairfields Hall in Croydon. Eddie and the Hot Rods opened the show, (I was on their guest list), The Blockheads also appeared on the bill. The stand alone memory of this particular show though, is that the theatre was also staging Snow White starring Anita Dobson, for it was pantomime season. Both shows had the interval at the same time, and for a laugh I went to the panto merchandise stall and bought a Snow White on a stick, which lit up. I still have this souvenir somewhere in my archives. The gig was a homecoming show for the band, and much was made of the fact that Captain Sensible used to be a cleaner at that very same venue, and toilet brushes were thrown into the crowd. They were the first band I saw when my ex-wife and I moved to York, (I saw precious little of anything else exciting during the marriage), and I always try to catch them live when they are nearby.

I am now in two minds about whether I want to see them again though, maybe I have become jaded at seeing a band that I've seen four times previously because they can no longer offer anything new. That said, The Dickies were as brilliant as ever. 

I only needed three hundred words to describe what I'd seen to the readers of The Nottingham Evening Post, (as I still call it), but I got a little carried away and once I was safely at home, and had eaten and warmed up, my muse ran away with itself to the tune of more than five hundred words. As I said yesterday, the only thing worse than editing your own work is having someone else do it for you.

To give some idea of the process, here is the original full length, superfluous piece of writing.

According to the late Clash front-man Joe Strummer, the first 'punk' band were Eddie and the Hot Rods. However, the first 'punk' record was 'New Rose' by The Damned.

To commemorate 35 years together as a band, The Damned are touring with a full length play through of the albums Damned Damned Damned, their debut, and The Black Album, from 1980. Being the same age as The Damned, I am increasingly often the oldest person at a gig. Tonight, in the company of original punk rockers, I felt positively infant.

Punk rock gigs have changed since the glory days, and thirty five years on, most of these chaps probably have banks to manage in the morning. Thankfully, age has also eradicated violence and spitting at gigs.

Kicking off the show, Captain Sensible bounded onto the stage looking as always like a cartoon caricature of, well, Captain Sensible in his sunglasses, and red beret perched atop his white hair. After a brief introduction in which Captain took the credit for changing music for the better by blowing away the prog rock brigade with their twenty minute drum solos, the opening bass riff of 'Neat Neat Neat' kicked in.

They ploughed their way through the first album, and the first half of the show, with the minimum amount of fuss and with very little in the way of distracting chatter. Thankfully, they played together as a band who looked as though they were doing it for the sheer enjoyment of playing live, rather than dragging themselves out just for the money, (yes Sex Pistols, I do mean you).

After a brief interval, it was time for The Black Album. This was perhaps a strange choice to perform live, and definitely one for the true Damned aficionado. A much darker, more gothic sounding album than their early punk rock sonance, it doesn't really lend itself to live performance. The biggest problem was the alternating between slower songs and all out punk speed. The crowd started to get restless, and after he refused to sing 'Happy Talk' as it wasn't on the album, they started the traditional chant of "the captain is an anchor". Or something like that. The set was musically brilliant, but then again the album is musically brilliant, and this just sounded like the album.

After starting the show with the dismissal of self indulgent prog rock bands, it seemed odd that they were finishing the show with a very self indulgent prog rock sound. If Rick Wakeman had joined in wearing the full wizard gear, it wouldn't have been at all shocking.

The wait between 'thank-you and goodnight' and the encore was just a little bit too long, and after a bit of banter they broke into a cover version of 'Black Night' by Deep Purple. After the slow burn of The Black Album, the crowd became the most animated they had been all night, thanks to a back to basics punk set of 'Disco Man', 'Love Song'. 'Anti-Pope' and 'Smash It Up'. There was even a burst of 'Happy Talk', proving that the captain isn't such an anchor after all.