On the 27th October 1979 I went to my first Punk gig. Punk had taken a while to radiate out to the suburbs, but as part of what would turn out to be their final tour, The Adverts came to Slough College. This was very big news and I’d already stumped up my ticket money at the local record shop to ensure I got in. The Adverts were a major Punk band, and I had just turned 15, this night was where all the reading of the live reviews combined with the songs I knew were going to come together.
This being my first gig, I didn’t yet know the ins and outs of what would later become a familiar routine; we’d had no pre-gig conversations about whether or not we should turn up to see the support band, or whether we should meet at the venue or in a nearby pub, we just looked at our tickets and turned up exactly when it said that the doors opened. We were there early, practically the first ones in, there were no bands on yet and so far it looked nothing like the packed houses I’d seen on “Rock Goes to College”.
So much still to learn, there was more to this going to a gig business than just seeing the bands; things that were never mentioned in any of the reviews, but things that were eventually to become familiar fixtures. A sound man, dressed in black, moving around the stage, doing something with the cables and leads, he wasn’t even a Punk sound man in his washed out old school rock band T-shirt. He shouted the word “chew” into the microphone more than a few times, then just “ch” until there was an audible squeal from the floor speakers on the stage, after which he went back to his lair at the side of the stage.
Not wanting to appear like the totally unseasoned gig goers we actually were, and despite turning up incredibly early, we did our best to look a bit bored and not too excited by the evening’s events – like it was something we did every night.
So, my first gig was The Adverts last, whether that automatically makes it more memorable or not I don’t know, but for me it’s one I’ll never forget.
Wow! Your first gig at 15. Very different from my experience. If it took Punk forever to get to the suburbs of Slough, it took even New Wave six years to get to the land of The Mouse [Orlando, Florida] where I grew up. Punk never entered into it! My first concert was Joe Jackson when I was 19 [possibly 20] touring on his hit “Night + Day” jazzpop album. Most of my favorite bands had already split up before they could be big enough to cross the Atlantic, much less penetrate deep into the dullest parts of America by 1983. It was ’85-’86 [or 8-9 years after Punk] when I finally got to see some of my favorite New Wave acts, who were, by that time past their sell by date as they were desperate to “crack America.” Not to put too fine a point on it, I was definitely living in the wrong place for my musical tastes!
Me and my teenage girl gang reckoned that Gaye Advert was our Brit Joan Jett. They could have been joined at the hip given their similar style.
I went backstage to one of their gigs once and made a point of buying Gaye a double vodka orange but ignoring TV Smith because she was the star 🌟 in our eyes. It was fab seeing women onstage playing their own instruments. And a good female bassist is as rare as a female trumpeter or female drummer.
Gary Gilmore’s Eyes is a classic of the genre.
Thanks so much, we’re really enjoying your comments. Is there any way we could tempt you to do a guest blog post one day???
Totally ace! Punkgirldiarist i would love to squeeze out a few gems, vignettes, tall tales and shaggy dog stories from the era…. they include escorting one Peter Sutcliff to a reggae night in Bradford and escaping from him on the moors above the northern city. The next day I was back at school warning my friends of a nutter doing the rounds. He was interested he said in becoming my manager…
He is better known as The Yorkshire Ripper.
He evaded capture for another 3 years, admitting to killing 13 women from the mid-70s to the early 80s in the north and northwest UK.
Let me know your brief xx