Read Online Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division by Peter Hook - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter Hook
Tags: Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, music, Genres & Styles, Composers & Musicians, punk
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the gig and took him with us for a scramble round Ashworth Valley in Rochdale, getting him well and truly wet and covered in mud. A great way to audition singers; I highly recommend it.
But back to that fourth and last Pistols gig. It was a virtual riot, the kind of night you look back on and wonder how the fuck you escaped with your life. Like I said, the Damned were off the tour, so the Buzzcocks opened instead, followed by the Clash, Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers, and then the Pistols, who’d been kicked out of not one but two Manchester hotels earlier that day. It was absolutely packed, inside and out, a riot outside and a riot inside. Loads of football fans had come looking for a fight and the Pistols played under a hail of gob and bottles, with constant fights taking place in front of the stage. Even in the queue outside you risked life and limb, with the kids on the flats raining bottles and bricks down from the roofs on to the punks below. They’d even gone to the trouble of taking the spikes out of the railings round the Electric Circus beforehand, to use as ammunition. After the gig it was bedlam outside, with the punks getting hammered left, right and centre. We flagged down a passing cop car and asked for help getting past these lunatics and the copper said, ‘Run behind the van and we’ll escort you to your cars.’ We all trooped behind, but as he set off he put his foot right down and sped off – leaving us at the mercy of the mob. The bastard. Luckily Terry’s car was nearby so we dived in and scarpered.
Looking back I wonder if that last Pistols gig at the Electric Circus was the night that the allure of punk started to fade for some of us. Once you get football fans coming – the twats who just want to spit and throw bottles – it’s time to move on, and people like the Buzzcocks and then us, Magazine, the Fall and Cabaret Voltaire were eventually able to find a way forward. We’d already decided that the name the Stiff Kittens was too ‘cartoon punk’ and were looking for something else. Also, we’d started writing some songs. We still needed a drummer, though. Terry tried for that, too, but alas it wasn’t going to be him.
‘He was one of us’
Even though Terry was a bit shy and awkward in company, and all our school mates picked on him, we liked him all the same. Whereas my other mates preferred to stay in the pubs in Salford, Terry was into Bowie and Roxy and he introduced us both to the discos in town, Pips or Time & Place. Plus he was there right at the beginning. He was there for the Pistols, and he was in on the conversations about starting the group. He was one of us.
Like I say, I thought we’d given him a go as the singer and it didn’t work. He disputes that, but agrees that he then tried his hand at guitarist and that didn’t work. Then he became the drummer. By that time we’d recruited Steve, but Terry kept up with the lessons for himself. So he became the manager and he wasn’t very good at that, either. No killer instinct – he was too nice. Then he became the sound guy, and he was shit at being a sound guy, too, because Harry DeMac had taught him – as a joke, presumably – to turn things up with the ‘gain pots’ on the desk instead of the faders (ask your roadie), which resulted in some pretty wild mixes. (Saying that, if you listen to the tapes now they sound great. Quite a few have been released to much acclaim.)
After we found OZ PA, a local Manchester sound company, Terry became our roadie, eventually becoming New Order’s tour manager, and we had a great time. He was my oldest friend and my sounding post for the start of my moaning about Barney. We were always very close; Barney hated this and he took it out on Terry sometimes. I remember at the sound-check for one New Order gig, in the Midwest somewhere, some kid gave Terry four Es, saying, ‘Give them to the band, buddy!’
We shared them out, but Barney, who didn’t do sound-checks at that
But back to that fourth and last Pistols gig. It was a virtual riot, the kind of night you look back on and wonder how the fuck you escaped with your life. Like I said, the Damned were off the tour, so the Buzzcocks opened instead, followed by the Clash, Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers, and then the Pistols, who’d been kicked out of not one but two Manchester hotels earlier that day. It was absolutely packed, inside and out, a riot outside and a riot inside. Loads of football fans had come looking for a fight and the Pistols played under a hail of gob and bottles, with constant fights taking place in front of the stage. Even in the queue outside you risked life and limb, with the kids on the flats raining bottles and bricks down from the roofs on to the punks below. They’d even gone to the trouble of taking the spikes out of the railings round the Electric Circus beforehand, to use as ammunition. After the gig it was bedlam outside, with the punks getting hammered left, right and centre. We flagged down a passing cop car and asked for help getting past these lunatics and the copper said, ‘Run behind the van and we’ll escort you to your cars.’ We all trooped behind, but as he set off he put his foot right down and sped off – leaving us at the mercy of the mob. The bastard. Luckily Terry’s car was nearby so we dived in and scarpered.
Looking back I wonder if that last Pistols gig at the Electric Circus was the night that the allure of punk started to fade for some of us. Once you get football fans coming – the twats who just want to spit and throw bottles – it’s time to move on, and people like the Buzzcocks and then us, Magazine, the Fall and Cabaret Voltaire were eventually able to find a way forward. We’d already decided that the name the Stiff Kittens was too ‘cartoon punk’ and were looking for something else. Also, we’d started writing some songs. We still needed a drummer, though. Terry tried for that, too, but alas it wasn’t going to be him.
‘He was one of us’
Even though Terry was a bit shy and awkward in company, and all our school mates picked on him, we liked him all the same. Whereas my other mates preferred to stay in the pubs in Salford, Terry was into Bowie and Roxy and he introduced us both to the discos in town, Pips or Time & Place. Plus he was there right at the beginning. He was there for the Pistols, and he was in on the conversations about starting the group. He was one of us.
Like I say, I thought we’d given him a go as the singer and it didn’t work. He disputes that, but agrees that he then tried his hand at guitarist and that didn’t work. Then he became the drummer. By that time we’d recruited Steve, but Terry kept up with the lessons for himself. So he became the manager and he wasn’t very good at that, either. No killer instinct – he was too nice. Then he became the sound guy, and he was shit at being a sound guy, too, because Harry DeMac had taught him – as a joke, presumably – to turn things up with the ‘gain pots’ on the desk instead of the faders (ask your roadie), which resulted in some pretty wild mixes. (Saying that, if you listen to the tapes now they sound great. Quite a few have been released to much acclaim.)
After we found OZ PA, a local Manchester sound company, Terry became our roadie, eventually becoming New Order’s tour manager, and we had a great time. He was my oldest friend and my sounding post for the start of my moaning about Barney. We were always very close; Barney hated this and he took it out on Terry sometimes. I remember at the sound-check for one New Order gig, in the Midwest somewhere, some kid gave Terry four Es, saying, ‘Give them to the band, buddy!’
We shared them out, but Barney, who didn’t do sound-checks at that
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