[ much of this article originally published 12/03/2014 ]
THE LEVELLERS
Brighton Centre, Brighton - 21st December 1992
Support: Back To The Planet
The two or three year period at the start of the 90s was utterly crazy for me. All sorts of shit happened that I wish hadn’t and I found myself getting more and more immersed in my music obsession, perhaps as a way of shutting everything else out. By the end of 1992, I had stuck my middle finger up to the world, hollered a very seriously intended “fuck you all” and rebelled. I had lost my mum the year before and I was troubled by the way I had behaved during her illness. I had fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t have fallen in love with and ended up bitter and hurt as a result. I got fed up of working for a living, especially as I felt continually under-valued and under-paid, so I jacked my job in at Our Price and lived off the money my mum left me in her will. I bought guitars, records and concert tickets. Life was about to become one big party.
I saw more gigs in 1992 than any other time before or since. I attended my first festivals (Glastonbury and Reading), started smoking dope, practically lived in the pub, bought a VW camper, grew my hair really long and got my clothes from army surplus shops. I also became fascinated by ‘alternative lifestyles’ – travellers, new age stuff, that sort of thing. I was, what I call, a semi-crusty; I didn’t have dreads or a dog, or live in my camper, but I wore the clothes, mixed with the people and loved the music.
The Levellers were, of course, the biggest band in the crusty world. Their blend of punk and folk drew all kinds of sneering criticisms from the music press snobs, but the truth is they were a bloody good band, and amazing live. I saw them at least three times (maybe four – understandably my memory of this period is a little, erm, hazy). The last of these was in the band’s home town of Brighton. Wayne and I travelled east by train, checked in at a B&B and went in search of a pre-gig pint. Bizarrely, in spite of being at the complete opposite side of the country to home, we came across a fella we knew from Barnstaple.
Martin Bradbury was your typical crusty-looking guy, dreads and all. He could be seen at all the local gigs in North Devon and was one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. He was well spoken, intelligent and rather unassuming, although he was also a good laugh. While we didn’t know him terribly well at that stage, we knew him well enough to invite him to the pub with us.
As for the gig itself? Back to the Planet were regulars on the smaller festival circuit and regularly supported bands like the Levellers, Chumbawamba et al. They were soon to have a couple of hit singles and briefly become music press darlings and bonafide headliners. Sadly, their music hasn't dated terribly well, but at the time Wayne and I were already big fans, having first caught them supporting the Levs in Plymouth earlier in the year, and a couple of times since. They always put on a good show and this was no exception. They'd go on to have hit singles and everything in the next 12 months, but here they still seemed like "our" band.
The Levellers, as you would expect from a band with their reputation, especially at a homecoming show, blew the roof off. I moshed with the large sweaty crowd, happy that I had turned my back on the mundanities of day-to-day life in favour of day-to-day partying. I even considered travelling myself for a while. Like many things I consider, it came to nothing in the end. Within 18 months, I was back in a job, working as a junior reporter for the local paper. The money had run out, the bank wouldn’t lend me any more, the bailiffs came a-knocking and I had bills to pay and food to buy. Reintegration into society was a necessary evil. Besides, the Levellers had turned crap by then, becoming little more than U2 with a fiddle player. I never saw them again, but still fondly remember those shows.
No comments:
Post a Comment