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| Site and sound: when neighbourhoods spawn new forms of music | Site and sound: when neighbourhoods spawn new forms of music |
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| As anyone who has witnessed Smiths fans making a pilgrimage to the distinctly unglamorous Salford Lads Club will tell you, there is a peculiar mystique about the connection between sound and place. Musical talent is a mysterious thing and fans look for clues everywhere, starting with the streets that raised their heroes. Now that so many bands sound like rootless citizens of the internet, or flock to London or New York at the earliest opportunity, the magic of a local scene feels even more precious. | As anyone who has witnessed Smiths fans making a pilgrimage to the distinctly unglamorous Salford Lads Club will tell you, there is a peculiar mystique about the connection between sound and place. Musical talent is a mysterious thing and fans look for clues everywhere, starting with the streets that raised their heroes. Now that so many bands sound like rootless citizens of the internet, or flock to London or New York at the earliest opportunity, the magic of a local scene feels even more precious. |
| Most of the time, lightning only strikes once. Consider the formative significance of Blackwood to Manic Street Preachers, Canvey Island to Dr Feelgood, Sheffield's High Green to Arctic Monkeys or Croydon to dubstep and then how little came in their wake. When a scene is born, the question of origins becomes more complicated and the search for clues produces dubious myths. A region can seem musically unremarkable until certain bands come along, at which point it is retrofitted as the perfect launchpad for a revolution. | Most of the time, lightning only strikes once. Consider the formative significance of Blackwood to Manic Street Preachers, Canvey Island to Dr Feelgood, Sheffield's High Green to Arctic Monkeys or Croydon to dubstep and then how little came in their wake. When a scene is born, the question of origins becomes more complicated and the search for clues produces dubious myths. A region can seem musically unremarkable until certain bands come along, at which point it is retrofitted as the perfect launchpad for a revolution. |
| While generalisations about history, geography and demographics make for useful shorthand, you will find more persuasive answers in the details of certain synchronicities and catalysts that bring people together: a club, a record shop, an inspirational mentor, a record label established by a charismatic local eccentric. Occasionally, you'll find someone such as Manchester's Tony Wilson, a figure with such taste, energy and "excess of civic pride" that he can influence a city's fortunes for more than a decade. Once the stars align, remarkable things can happen. | While generalisations about history, geography and demographics make for useful shorthand, you will find more persuasive answers in the details of certain synchronicities and catalysts that bring people together: a club, a record shop, an inspirational mentor, a record label established by a charismatic local eccentric. Occasionally, you'll find someone such as Manchester's Tony Wilson, a figure with such taste, energy and "excess of civic pride" that he can influence a city's fortunes for more than a decade. Once the stars align, remarkable things can happen. |
| Annoyed by the Great Man theory of individual genius, Brian Eno coined the word "scenius": an "ecology of talent" in which the right combination of personnel and circumstance further empowers the truly gifted and enables more modest talents to outdo themselves. Wherever and whenever it happens, such an efflorescence of creativity feels like a miracle, flooding the streets of the lucky locale with a new sense of romance and possibility. | Annoyed by the Great Man theory of individual genius, Brian Eno coined the word "scenius": an "ecology of talent" in which the right combination of personnel and circumstance further empowers the truly gifted and enables more modest talents to outdo themselves. Wherever and whenever it happens, such an efflorescence of creativity feels like a miracle, flooding the streets of the lucky locale with a new sense of romance and possibility. |
| And years after the scene has faded and fractured, some curious fans will stand outside the crucial locations (or at least the ones that haven't been turned into luxury flats), wondering how it happened here – and whether something similar might happen again. Dorian Lynskey | And years after the scene has faded and fractured, some curious fans will stand outside the crucial locations (or at least the ones that haven't been turned into luxury flats), wondering how it happened here – and whether something similar might happen again. Dorian Lynskey |
| Grime and east London | Grime and east London |
| Despite the existence of great grime crews – MCs, DJs and producers – from other parts of London, east London was synonymous with grime during the genre's initial peak between 2002 and 2005. The beats, lyrics and musical atmosphere reflected a tense but still familial atmosphere of towerblocks and precocious teenage talent. As Wiley put it in his 2007 album track Bow E3: "We made the genre everybody's on, but it's all come from Bow". | Despite the existence of great grime crews – MCs, DJs and producers – from other parts of London, east London was synonymous with grime during the genre's initial peak between 2002 and 2005. The beats, lyrics and musical atmosphere reflected a tense but still familial atmosphere of towerblocks and precocious teenage talent. As Wiley put it in his 2007 album track Bow E3: "We made the genre everybody's on, but it's all come from Bow". |
| Burdett Road | Burdett Road |
| In many respects, Ruff Sqwad were the quintessential grime crew – schoolfriends from Bow whose teenage enthusiasm for music saw them practising their lyrics in the playground during lunch breaks, spending their dinner money on vinyl, making beats in their bedrooms and building their fanbase on their own shows on local pirate stations such as Deja Vu FM and Rinse FM. | In many respects, Ruff Sqwad were the quintessential grime crew – schoolfriends from Bow whose teenage enthusiasm for music saw them practising their lyrics in the playground during lunch breaks, spending their dinner money on vinyl, making beats in their bedrooms and building their fanbase on their own shows on local pirate stations such as Deja Vu FM and Rinse FM. |
| They were surrounded by influential east London grime figures such as Jammer (who had his own basement studio in his parents' Walthamstow house), and older kids from the same schools and estates who formed Bow's other legendary crew, Roll Deep, which featured the likes of Wiley, Trim, Scratchy and, at times, Dizzee Rascal. | |
| As Ruff Sqwad producer and MC Rapid recalls, it was a world in which the emerging sound of grime was a constant source of excitement and distraction: "I'd be in college and get a call from Wiley and he'd be like, 'What are you doing, come to the studio right now'." | As Ruff Sqwad producer and MC Rapid recalls, it was a world in which the emerging sound of grime was a constant source of excitement and distraction: "I'd be in college and get a call from Wiley and he'd be like, 'What are you doing, come to the studio right now'." |
| The crew's most famous member was Tinchy Stryder, who opened his No 1 single Never Leave You with the words: "I've been there, right here in them Bow streets, late nights trying to write, Mum saying go sleep." | |
| Canary Wharf | Canary Wharf |
| If you live in east London, Canary Wharf is impossible to ignore. "Canary Wharf is like our Statue of Liberty," Roll Deep's DJ Target, now a BBC Radio 1Xtra DJ, told the Guardian in 2005:. "It pushes me on. It's like all the money is there and it's an inspiration to get your own." | If you live in east London, Canary Wharf is impossible to ignore. "Canary Wharf is like our Statue of Liberty," Roll Deep's DJ Target, now a BBC Radio 1Xtra DJ, told the Guardian in 2005:. "It pushes me on. It's like all the money is there and it's an inspiration to get your own." |
| For a young Dizzee Rascal, growing up two miles away on the Crossways estate, the gleaming totems to untrammelled wealth were an insult, as well as a sign of looming gentrification. "That is Canary Wharf," he told the BBC cameras when he won the 2003 Mercury prize for Boy in da Corner. "It's in your face. It takes the piss. There are rich people moving in now, people who work in the City. You can tell they're not living the same way as us." | For a young Dizzee Rascal, growing up two miles away on the Crossways estate, the gleaming totems to untrammelled wealth were an insult, as well as a sign of looming gentrification. "That is Canary Wharf," he told the BBC cameras when he won the 2003 Mercury prize for Boy in da Corner. "It's in your face. It takes the piss. There are rich people moving in now, people who work in the City. You can tell they're not living the same way as us." |
| Tinchy Stryder recalls going there as a Bow teenager and feeling the contrast with his local estate: "Everything in Canary Wharf felt fresher and cleaner than where we grew up; it felt like a different world. It felt really close, but far away at the same time … like, it wasn't really anywhere for us to be." | Tinchy Stryder recalls going there as a Bow teenager and feeling the contrast with his local estate: "Everything in Canary Wharf felt fresher and cleaner than where we grew up; it felt like a different world. It felt really close, but far away at the same time … like, it wasn't really anywhere for us to be." |
| Rhythm Division, Roman Road | Rhythm Division, Roman Road |
| With its location on Roman Road, this record shop was at the heart of east London grime – the long market street featured in lyrics by Tinchy Stryder and Wiley among others – this record shop was at the heart of east London grime. "Roman Road was so lively," recalls Wiley, "because it had that street market culture, every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday – it was the nurturer, it all has something to do with the Dizzees and Wileys coming through." | With its location on Roman Road, this record shop was at the heart of east London grime – the long market street featured in lyrics by Tinchy Stryder and Wiley among others – this record shop was at the heart of east London grime. "Roman Road was so lively," recalls Wiley, "because it had that street market culture, every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday – it was the nurturer, it all has something to do with the Dizzees and Wileys coming through." |
| The tools of any DJ's trade – the only way to stand out from the competition – were dubplates, the fresh 12-inch vinyl pressings of brand-new underground anthems. It was essential to get there first for the best of the bunch. | The tools of any DJ's trade – the only way to stand out from the competition – were dubplates, the fresh 12-inch vinyl pressings of brand-new underground anthems. It was essential to get there first for the best of the bunch. |
| DJ Cheeky ran Rhythm Division from 2007 and before that made his money driving around London's underground record shops selling white label vinyl pressings: "I remember pressing up Wiley's Ice Pole remix; we sold 2,000 of that within a month, straight out the boot of a Vauxhall Corsa. It was another era. The record shops were what brought grime together, what made it a scene – people used to link up and just jam; people from different crews and areas." | DJ Cheeky ran Rhythm Division from 2007 and before that made his money driving around London's underground record shops selling white label vinyl pressings: "I remember pressing up Wiley's Ice Pole remix; we sold 2,000 of that within a month, straight out the boot of a Vauxhall Corsa. It was another era. The record shops were what brought grime together, what made it a scene – people used to link up and just jam; people from different crews and areas." |
| With the decline of vinyl, Rhythm Division was forced to close, replaced in 2011 by a coffee shop. "I went in recently and I said this used to be my shop, and I bought a cake, thinking, Jesus Christ, what has this become?" How was the cake? "All right, but it's not going to send me back in a hurry." | With the decline of vinyl, Rhythm Division was forced to close, replaced in 2011 by a coffee shop. "I went in recently and I said this used to be my shop, and I bought a cake, thinking, Jesus Christ, what has this become?" How was the cake? "All right, but it's not going to send me back in a hurry." |
| Crossways Estate | Crossways Estate |
| Known locally as "the three flats", the Crossways estate was where Dizzee Rascal and Tinchy Stryder grew up. Its three towers were the star of Rascal's video for his single Graftin', as well as the Streets' Fit But You Know It remix, Ruff Sqwad's Down and Stryder's Mainstream Money. | Known locally as "the three flats", the Crossways estate was where Dizzee Rascal and Tinchy Stryder grew up. Its three towers were the star of Rascal's video for his single Graftin', as well as the Streets' Fit But You Know It remix, Ruff Sqwad's Down and Stryder's Mainstream Money. |
| "The three flats defined the area," says Stryder. "You might say to a friend, 'Are you going down three flats?' and you'd just mean the area around them. There were a few pirate radio stations based there – the whole grime scene, really. We all used to come to my house, my mum's house, and make tapes, practise our skills there – that's why I'm always grateful to my mum and dad, because I don't know if many people would've let loads of boys come in the house and make that noise," he laughs, "because grime ain't nothing calm, and it wasn't a big house." | "The three flats defined the area," says Stryder. "You might say to a friend, 'Are you going down three flats?' and you'd just mean the area around them. There were a few pirate radio stations based there – the whole grime scene, really. We all used to come to my house, my mum's house, and make tapes, practise our skills there – that's why I'm always grateful to my mum and dad, because I don't know if many people would've let loads of boys come in the house and make that noise," he laughs, "because grime ain't nothing calm, and it wasn't a big house." |
| Now overhauled and rebranded as Bow Cross, the area has been heavily gentrified. "Bow is washed, rinsed and looking good" announced a Homes and Property magazine piece about the new estate in 2011, reassuring readers that "the formerly volatile mix of personalities has been dissipated". | Now overhauled and rebranded as Bow Cross, the area has been heavily gentrified. "Bow is washed, rinsed and looking good" announced a Homes and Property magazine piece about the new estate in 2011, reassuring readers that "the formerly volatile mix of personalities has been dissipated". |
| Stratford Deja Block | Stratford Deja Block |
| By their very nature, the locations of London's thriving pirate stations – most famously for grime, Rinse FM and Deja Vu FM – remained closely guarded secrets, often moving from one towerblock to another. In the fiendishly hot summer of 2003, grime's crucible moment, the entire scene seemed to gather one night in Stratford, for a Deja Vu FM show that would be filmed for the Conflict DVD. MCs from east London crews Roll Deep, Nasty Crew and Newham Generals (named after the local hospital – "mMess with Newham Generals, you'll get left in Newham General") took turns on the mic, and the evening culminated in an infamous fight between Dizzee Rascal and another hotly touted MC, Crazy Titch. | By their very nature, the locations of London's thriving pirate stations – most famously for grime, Rinse FM and Deja Vu FM – remained closely guarded secrets, often moving from one towerblock to another. In the fiendishly hot summer of 2003, grime's crucible moment, the entire scene seemed to gather one night in Stratford, for a Deja Vu FM show that would be filmed for the Conflict DVD. MCs from east London crews Roll Deep, Nasty Crew and Newham Generals (named after the local hospital – "mMess with Newham Generals, you'll get left in Newham General") took turns on the mic, and the evening culminated in an infamous fight between Dizzee Rascal and another hotly touted MC, Crazy Titch. |
| "It's been demolished now, the Deja block," explains Wiley, who broke up the fight. "The Olympic Village has transformed that area – that block was in the middle of no-man's-land, you know how much shit went on there? I remember coming out of the radio station once and someone had a shotgun and reckoned they were going to shoot me." | "It's been demolished now, the Deja block," explains Wiley, who broke up the fight. "The Olympic Village has transformed that area – that block was in the middle of no-man's-land, you know how much shit went on there? I remember coming out of the radio station once and someone had a shotgun and reckoned they were going to shoot me." |
| Stryder was also on the mic that night, aged 16. "I'd come into school the next day and everyone would be like, 'Rah, you were on Deja last night!' You'd feel like the man … for an hour or two," he laughs. Dan Hancox | Stryder was also on the mic that night, aged 16. "I'd come into school the next day and everyone would be like, 'Rah, you were on Deja last night!' You'd feel like the man … for an hour or two," he laughs. Dan Hancox |
| Trip-hop and Bristol | Trip-hop and Bristol |
| Bristol took hip-hop and, well, Bristolised it: fed it a diet of weed, slowed it down, showed it around a series of subterranean dens and warehouse parties, and introduced it to long-time resident sounds dub and punk. The music that ultimately emerged, trip-hop (a term wholly unbeloved in Bristol), was made in the city's cultural patchwork image, the logical sum of its parts: a roiling fug of bass and beats, collaged textures and samples and disaffected lyricism. Never intended as a blueprint for world domination, it just – sigh, long toke – happened. | Bristol took hip-hop and, well, Bristolised it: fed it a diet of weed, slowed it down, showed it around a series of subterranean dens and warehouse parties, and introduced it to long-time resident sounds dub and punk. The music that ultimately emerged, trip-hop (a term wholly unbeloved in Bristol), was made in the city's cultural patchwork image, the logical sum of its parts: a roiling fug of bass and beats, collaged textures and samples and disaffected lyricism. Never intended as a blueprint for world domination, it just – sigh, long toke – happened. |
| Revolver Records, Clifton Triangle | Revolver Records, Clifton Triangle |
| Today, it stands blank-faced and mildew green, looking out towards soap-windowed, similarly vacant premises and awaiting the replacement for its most recent inhabitant, the Taste of India curry house. Once, though, at the hilltop leading to the city centre, in the shadow of the university tower, this building housed its own rarefied learning. If the Pop Group's 1979 debut, She is Beyond Good and Evil, first alerted the world to Bristol's dub leanings, then Revolver gave its leader his musical ammunition. "A treasure trove," says Mark Stewart. "I learned more in that cavern of aural wonders than I ever did at school." | Today, it stands blank-faced and mildew green, looking out towards soap-windowed, similarly vacant premises and awaiting the replacement for its most recent inhabitant, the Taste of India curry house. Once, though, at the hilltop leading to the city centre, in the shadow of the university tower, this building housed its own rarefied learning. If the Pop Group's 1979 debut, She is Beyond Good and Evil, first alerted the world to Bristol's dub leanings, then Revolver gave its leader his musical ammunition. "A treasure trove," says Mark Stewart. "I learned more in that cavern of aural wonders than I ever did at school." |
| Massive Attack's Daddy G worked here, meeting future bandmate Andrew "Mushroom" Vowles amid tottering vinyl towers and cigarette mist. The lack of shopfront enhanced its clandestine air. "It felt subterranean, although you actually went up some stairs," says music journalist Tony Benjamin, a regular from 1971 until the shop's closure in 1993. "In the absence of good radio, it was the portal. The first thing you'd hear would be something you'd never heard before – free jazz, funk, anything – but you'd want to know who it was. There was never that sense of, 'If you have to ask, you shouldn't be in here'." | Massive Attack's Daddy G worked here, meeting future bandmate Andrew "Mushroom" Vowles amid tottering vinyl towers and cigarette mist. The lack of shopfront enhanced its clandestine air. "It felt subterranean, although you actually went up some stairs," says music journalist Tony Benjamin, a regular from 1971 until the shop's closure in 1993. "In the absence of good radio, it was the portal. The first thing you'd hear would be something you'd never heard before – free jazz, funk, anything – but you'd want to know who it was. There was never that sense of, 'If you have to ask, you shouldn't be in here'." |
| Coach House Studios, Richmond Hill Avenue | Coach House Studios, Richmond Hill Avenue |
| On one side of Richmond Hill Avenue, there are elegant Clifton townhouses; on the other stands the towering slab of brutalist architecture that is Bristol Uni's student union building, aptly contrasting environs for recording trip-hop's masterpiece, Massive Attack's claustrophobically beautiful Blue Lines. | On one side of Richmond Hill Avenue, there are elegant Clifton townhouses; on the other stands the towering slab of brutalist architecture that is Bristol Uni's student union building, aptly contrasting environs for recording trip-hop's masterpiece, Massive Attack's claustrophobically beautiful Blue Lines. |
| On the avenue, on a tarmac expanse in the ground of No 7 stands the Coach House, mock-Tudor timbers adorning a drab concrete box. Inside, conversely, there is wood-swept, soft-lit wonder. | On the avenue, on a tarmac expanse in the ground of No 7 stands the Coach House, mock-Tudor timbers adorning a drab concrete box. Inside, conversely, there is wood-swept, soft-lit wonder. |
| "[Owner/engineer] Andy Allen said, 'If you help build a studio, and I pay you £15 a week, you can have a YTS [youth training scheme place]'," recalls Portishead's Geoff Barrow, later joined in the studio's upstairs digs by Adrian Utley. | "[Owner/engineer] Andy Allen said, 'If you help build a studio, and I pay you £15 a week, you can have a YTS [youth training scheme place]'," recalls Portishead's Geoff Barrow, later joined in the studio's upstairs digs by Adrian Utley. |
| But before Portishead's seeds were sown, Barrow worked on sessions as a tea boy. "Scott Davidson, the ex-Bristol City chairman [and ex Bros keyboard player], his dad is a crooner, they recorded an album; the guy who won Opportunity Knocks in about 1978; Danni Minogue. People from London would say, 'Why hasn't it got this, why hasn't it got that?' William Orbit came down and basically just complained for a fortnight." Finally, Blue Lines. "Really nice sessions. I was mates with D and G, but I learned most from [co-writer/producer] Jonny Dollar." | But before Portishead's seeds were sown, Barrow worked on sessions as a tea boy. "Scott Davidson, the ex-Bristol City chairman [and ex Bros keyboard player], his dad is a crooner, they recorded an album; the guy who won Opportunity Knocks in about 1978; Danni Minogue. People from London would say, 'Why hasn't it got this, why hasn't it got that?' William Orbit came down and basically just complained for a fortnight." Finally, Blue Lines. "Really nice sessions. I was mates with D and G, but I learned most from [co-writer/producer] Jonny Dollar." |
| Long since dormant, studio still in situ, the Coach House was sold in January with planning permission to turn it into a three-bedroom home. | Long since dormant, studio still in situ, the Coach House was sold in January with planning permission to turn it into a three-bedroom home. |
| Vision Factory, Zetland Road | Vision Factory, Zetland Road |
| Massive Attack, Gary Clail, Smith & Mighty, Mark Stewart. Key Bristol-sound names, each collaborated with a man pivotal to the look of its bands. Steve Haley made his name with the original promo by the Wild Bunch collective and his film-making base was at the Vision Factory. | Massive Attack, Gary Clail, Smith & Mighty, Mark Stewart. Key Bristol-sound names, each collaborated with a man pivotal to the look of its bands. Steve Haley made his name with the original promo by the Wild Bunch collective and his film-making base was at the Vision Factory. |
| "Standard retail office space, until Steve had it converted," says Pete Webb, once resident here as a Cup of Tea Records producer. "It was labyrinthine, a set of stairs up the middle with various offices and little rooms off it, absolutely stacked full of equipment." | "Standard retail office space, until Steve had it converted," says Pete Webb, once resident here as a Cup of Tea Records producer. "It was labyrinthine, a set of stairs up the middle with various offices and little rooms off it, absolutely stacked full of equipment." |
| Up the road and around the corner from where Stokes Croft gives way to gentility, the Vision Factory's former premises are anonymous today. In an unremarkable retail terrace, between a launderette and an Italian restaurant, stands Three Sixty Services – a plumbing shop. | Up the road and around the corner from where Stokes Croft gives way to gentility, the Vision Factory's former premises are anonymous today. In an unremarkable retail terrace, between a launderette and an Italian restaurant, stands Three Sixty Services – a plumbing shop. |
| Yet look up and cast your imagination adrift: Smith & Mighty's studio (in 1989, their production on Fresh 4's top 10 hit Wishing on a Star announced Bristol's new sound to the world); upstairs, the fulcrum, Haley's office; above that, the original home of Cup of Tea, Bristol's most prolific trip-hop label. Portishead remixed a debut release – Junkwaffel's Mudskipper – and were followed by trip-hop luminaries including Monk & Canatella and Webb's own Statik Sound System. | Yet look up and cast your imagination adrift: Smith & Mighty's studio (in 1989, their production on Fresh 4's top 10 hit Wishing on a Star announced Bristol's new sound to the world); upstairs, the fulcrum, Haley's office; above that, the original home of Cup of Tea, Bristol's most prolific trip-hop label. Portishead remixed a debut release – Junkwaffel's Mudskipper – and were followed by trip-hop luminaries including Monk & Canatella and Webb's own Statik Sound System. |
| The Dug Out, Park Row | The Dug Out, Park Row |
| Punks, goths, rastas, Clifton posh boys, black kids from St Pauls – in the early 80s, being the only club in town with no dress code did a lot for your clientele mix. "Like going down into the underworld," recalls Pete Webb on descending from the MTV-looping video lounge to the bars beneath. | Punks, goths, rastas, Clifton posh boys, black kids from St Pauls – in the early 80s, being the only club in town with no dress code did a lot for your clientele mix. "Like going down into the underworld," recalls Pete Webb on descending from the MTV-looping video lounge to the bars beneath. |
| Today, tucked behind Bristol's poshest shopping street, its upper storeys of cream veneer are cracked like a neglected oil painting. From below emanate the smells of a Korean restaurant. You wouldn't pick it as a former laboratory of globally sweeping musical invention. | Today, tucked behind Bristol's poshest shopping street, its upper storeys of cream veneer are cracked like a neglected oil painting. From below emanate the smells of a Korean restaurant. You wouldn't pick it as a former laboratory of globally sweeping musical invention. |
| You wouldn't have picked it then, either. "The music wasn't always cool," recalls writer/lecturer Annie McGann. "A bit of everything. One bar full of student nurses and admirers, another of bikers and cider-drinking locals, and the bar by the dancefloor where local faces hung out. It was a welcome change when 3D and Grant turned up with their mates and played reggae and hip-hop." Those joining the future Massive mainstays included Tricky, Mushroom and Nellee Hooper – collectively, the Wild Bunch, whose 1982-86 Wednesday sessions were the melting pot/testing ground for what followed. Welcome to trip-hop's spiritual home. Julian Owen | You wouldn't have picked it then, either. "The music wasn't always cool," recalls writer/lecturer Annie McGann. "A bit of everything. One bar full of student nurses and admirers, another of bikers and cider-drinking locals, and the bar by the dancefloor where local faces hung out. It was a welcome change when 3D and Grant turned up with their mates and played reggae and hip-hop." Those joining the future Massive mainstays included Tricky, Mushroom and Nellee Hooper – collectively, the Wild Bunch, whose 1982-86 Wednesday sessions were the melting pot/testing ground for what followed. Welcome to trip-hop's spiritual home. Julian Owen |
| Mersey beat and Liverpool | Mersey beat and Liverpool |
| Modern Liverpool can boast its shiny waterfront towers and sparkly retail and leisure district, but in their shadows are the ghosts of that scruffy old port where, in 1963, the Merseybeat sound emerged, revolutionising pop music. | Modern Liverpool can boast its shiny waterfront towers and sparkly retail and leisure district, but in their shadows are the ghosts of that scruffy old port where, in 1963, the Merseybeat sound emerged, revolutionising pop music. |
| The Cavern, Mathew Street | The Cavern, Mathew Street |
| In its original guise, the Cavern was a 1950s jazz club that liked to pretend it was on Paris's Left Bank and not beneath a dingy warehouse in Liverpool city centre. | In its original guise, the Cavern was a 1950s jazz club that liked to pretend it was on Paris's Left Bank and not beneath a dingy warehouse in Liverpool city centre. |
| By 1962, the Beatles and their peers, including the Cavern cloakroom girl Cilla Black, had made this sweaty cellar the Pentagon of Pop, inventing a sound that transformed rock across the world. Strangely, it was demolished in 1973 to build a railway ventilation shaft (a project that was in turn shelved subsequently). But in those days, nobody saw pop culture as a heritage opportunity. | By 1962, the Beatles and their peers, including the Cavern cloakroom girl Cilla Black, had made this sweaty cellar the Pentagon of Pop, inventing a sound that transformed rock across the world. Strangely, it was demolished in 1973 to build a railway ventilation shaft (a project that was in turn shelved subsequently). But in those days, nobody saw pop culture as a heritage opportunity. |
| By the 1980s, the Cavern had been rebuilt on the same site, using many of the bricks from the original building. Since then, it's been the centre of a swelling trade in music tourism, luring pilgrims from every continent. In its environs, and in the partner pub across the street, they can hear live music of all descriptions – and dodge the madding crowd of stags and hens who have made the neighbourhood a weekend Sodom and Gomorrah. | By the 1980s, the Cavern had been rebuilt on the same site, using many of the bricks from the original building. Since then, it's been the centre of a swelling trade in music tourism, luring pilgrims from every continent. In its environs, and in the partner pub across the street, they can hear live music of all descriptions – and dodge the madding crowd of stags and hens who have made the neighbourhood a weekend Sodom and Gomorrah. |
| NEMS shop, Whitechapel | NEMS shop, Whitechapel |
| Brian Epstein was the gifted, middle-class misfit who ran his family record business here. In 1961, he nervously crossed the street to the Cavern, found the Beatles and offered to steer their careers. Then he signed Cilla, Gerry and the Pacemakers and mop-topped combos by the hundredweight. | Brian Epstein was the gifted, middle-class misfit who ran his family record business here. In 1961, he nervously crossed the street to the Cavern, found the Beatles and offered to steer their careers. Then he signed Cilla, Gerry and the Pacemakers and mop-topped combos by the hundredweight. |
| At a time when "British rock music" was still an oxymoron, Epstein turned NEMS into a management phenomenon, the nucleus of a global pop takeover. The building where he created his showbiz empire was not an architectural masterpiece and saw out its final years as an Ann Summers shop. But real history had been made there. | At a time when "British rock music" was still an oxymoron, Epstein turned NEMS into a management phenomenon, the nucleus of a global pop takeover. The building where he created his showbiz empire was not an architectural masterpiece and saw out its final years as an Ann Summers shop. But real history had been made there. |
| In 2012, the place was carelessly demolished after it was decided that what the world really needed was another branch of the fashion chain Forever 21. When that's gone, they'll probably rebuild NEMS in replica. | In 2012, the place was carelessly demolished after it was decided that what the world really needed was another branch of the fashion chain Forever 21. When that's gone, they'll probably rebuild NEMS in replica. |
| The Everyman Bistro, Hope Street | The Everyman Bistro, Hope Street |
| Up the hill and above the clamour of central scouseland is a tranquil, dignified thoroughfare named Hope Street, with a cathedral at either end and Georgian houses all around. An old chapel, the Hope Hall, became a cinema and then a pioneering theatre called the Everyman. Its basement rooms were the venue for beatnik "happenings" that featured the poet Roger McGough and Mike McCartney (Paul's brother) in their band Scaffold, the painter Adrian Henri and a host of boho drifters from the nearby colleges. The Everyman basement was the Cavern's artier cousin and, renamed the Bistro, served generations of aspiring hipsters. The Everyman theatre reopened this year after a bold rebuild and the downstairs Bistro is back in business – a little upmarket from the raffish dive it used to be, but still a good starting point for a trawl of Hope Street's cultural treasures. | Up the hill and above the clamour of central scouseland is a tranquil, dignified thoroughfare named Hope Street, with a cathedral at either end and Georgian houses all around. An old chapel, the Hope Hall, became a cinema and then a pioneering theatre called the Everyman. Its basement rooms were the venue for beatnik "happenings" that featured the poet Roger McGough and Mike McCartney (Paul's brother) in their band Scaffold, the painter Adrian Henri and a host of boho drifters from the nearby colleges. The Everyman basement was the Cavern's artier cousin and, renamed the Bistro, served generations of aspiring hipsters. The Everyman theatre reopened this year after a bold rebuild and the downstairs Bistro is back in business – a little upmarket from the raffish dive it used to be, but still a good starting point for a trawl of Hope Street's cultural treasures. |
| The White Star, Rainford Gardens | The White Star, Rainford Gardens |
| A tiny Victorian pub in the same maze of warehouse backstreets as the Cavern, the White Star makes only a modest nod towards its Beatle history (the band drank here, as well as in the nearby Grapes). Beyond a Lennon plaque here and a Macca pic there, it's basically the same scouse alehouse it was when beat groups came to divvy up their share of the takings. | A tiny Victorian pub in the same maze of warehouse backstreets as the Cavern, the White Star makes only a modest nod towards its Beatle history (the band drank here, as well as in the nearby Grapes). Beyond a Lennon plaque here and a Macca pic there, it's basically the same scouse alehouse it was when beat groups came to divvy up their share of the takings. |
| Pubs such as this were the natural HQ for hustlers without an office to their name; Guinness might keep the dreams alive when it felt like yours was the only band that hadn't clambered aboard that London-bound train. | Pubs such as this were the natural HQ for hustlers without an office to their name; Guinness might keep the dreams alive when it felt like yours was the only band that hadn't clambered aboard that London-bound train. |
| Nowadays, the rebranded "Cavern Quarter" looks like a Fab Four theme park. But inside the White Star, on rainy northern nights amid the gilded fittings and the shipping line memorabilia, ancient mariners and wizened bass guitarists still detain the traveller. "The Beatles were rubbish after they left Liverpool," says one. "They were OK," says another, "but I always had more fun on shore leave in Valparaíso." Paul Du Noyer | Nowadays, the rebranded "Cavern Quarter" looks like a Fab Four theme park. But inside the White Star, on rainy northern nights amid the gilded fittings and the shipping line memorabilia, ancient mariners and wizened bass guitarists still detain the traveller. "The Beatles were rubbish after they left Liverpool," says one. "They were OK," says another, "but I always had more fun on shore leave in Valparaíso." Paul Du Noyer |
| Manchester and 90s music | Manchester and 90s music |
| The Haçienda | The Haçienda |
| Opened by Factory and New Order on 21 May 1982 and inspired by their trips to New York City clubs such as Danceteria, the Funhouse and Paradise Garage, the Haçienda's name was lifted from Ivan Chtcheglov's situationist text Formulary for a New Urbanism: "You'll never see the Haçienda, it doesn't exist. The Haçienda must be built." | Opened by Factory and New Order on 21 May 1982 and inspired by their trips to New York City clubs such as Danceteria, the Funhouse and Paradise Garage, the Haçienda's name was lifted from Ivan Chtcheglov's situationist text Formulary for a New Urbanism: "You'll never see the Haçienda, it doesn't exist. The Haçienda must be built." |
| The late, great Tony Wilson, later admitted: "Someone asked about two weeks before the Haçienda opened, 'Who the fuck have you built this for?' And we went, 'Well, the kids.' And they went, 'Have you seen the kids recently? They're wearing long raincoats, you dick – you've built them a New York discotheque.'" But when acid house arrived, the space suddenly made sense. | The late, great Tony Wilson, later admitted: "Someone asked about two weeks before the Haçienda opened, 'Who the fuck have you built this for?' And we went, 'Well, the kids.' And they went, 'Have you seen the kids recently? They're wearing long raincoats, you dick – you've built them a New York discotheque.'" But when acid house arrived, the space suddenly made sense. |
| "Nowadays, clubbing culture is completely different," says veteran Haçienda DJ Mike Pickering. "It's all about guest DJs. When people go to somewhere like the Warehouse Project, they go to see the guest DJs, they don't go to see the residents. When I was resident DJ, if I heard a great record my first thought would be, 'I can't wait to play this at the Haçienda.' You put your taste on the line, but the crowd trusted you, they knew what they were going to get." | "Nowadays, clubbing culture is completely different," says veteran Haçienda DJ Mike Pickering. "It's all about guest DJs. When people go to somewhere like the Warehouse Project, they go to see the guest DJs, they don't go to see the residents. When I was resident DJ, if I heard a great record my first thought would be, 'I can't wait to play this at the Haçienda.' You put your taste on the line, but the crowd trusted you, they knew what they were going to get." |
| Previously a yacht showroom, the Haçienda closed in 1997. Crosby Homes bought the site on the corner of Whitworth Street West and turned it into Haçienda Apartments, proclaiming, to the ire of some old Haç heads, "Now the party's over, you can come home." | Previously a yacht showroom, the Haçienda closed in 1997. Crosby Homes bought the site on the corner of Whitworth Street West and turned it into Haçienda Apartments, proclaiming, to the ire of some old Haç heads, "Now the party's over, you can come home." |
| Pickering walked out of the Haçienda when a knife was pulled on him at the club's 10th birthday bash. He never set foot in there again. He later DJed at Renaissance and Cream, "but it was never the same for me. Imagine playing at a packed Wembley every week and then going to play at Stockport County. Nothing could ever replace the Haçienda." | Pickering walked out of the Haçienda when a knife was pulled on him at the club's 10th birthday bash. He never set foot in there again. He later DJed at Renaissance and Cream, "but it was never the same for me. Imagine playing at a packed Wembley every week and then going to play at Stockport County. Nothing could ever replace the Haçienda." |
| The Boardwalk | The Boardwalk |
| A former Victorian Sunday school, built in 1876, the Boardwalk was opened in 1986 by Colin Sinclair. Five minutes around the corner from the Haçienda, on Little Peter Street, the Boardwalk quickly became a cornerstone of the Mancunian music scene. James played the opening night and were one of the many bands who used the rehearsal rooms in the basement over the years. Happy Mondays were also based at the Boardwalk for several years, rehearsing and writing most of their first two albums there and playing live upstairs. | A former Victorian Sunday school, built in 1876, the Boardwalk was opened in 1986 by Colin Sinclair. Five minutes around the corner from the Haçienda, on Little Peter Street, the Boardwalk quickly became a cornerstone of the Mancunian music scene. James played the opening night and were one of the many bands who used the rehearsal rooms in the basement over the years. Happy Mondays were also based at the Boardwalk for several years, rehearsing and writing most of their first two albums there and playing live upstairs. |
| The Charlatans saw playing there as a turning point. "I remember playing the Boardwalk twice within a short space of time and then we didn't look back," remembers singer Tim Burgess. "Within a year of me joining the Charlatans we had a No 1 album, but that just felt natural." | The Charlatans saw playing there as a turning point. "I remember playing the Boardwalk twice within a short space of time and then we didn't look back," remembers singer Tim Burgess. "Within a year of me joining the Charlatans we had a No 1 album, but that just felt natural." |
| Noel Gallagher first saw his little brother Liam's band Rain (as they were then called) at the Boardwalk. "On the way home Noel said he was going to join Liam's band and give him the songs he'd written," recalls music PR Alison Bell, who was there with Noel and his girlfriend of the time, Louise. "A few weeks later he asked what I thought of the name Oasis. I said I liked it but it sounded like a dance act!" | Noel Gallagher first saw his little brother Liam's band Rain (as they were then called) at the Boardwalk. "On the way home Noel said he was going to join Liam's band and give him the songs he'd written," recalls music PR Alison Bell, who was there with Noel and his girlfriend of the time, Louise. "A few weeks later he asked what I thought of the name Oasis. I said I liked it but it sounded like a dance act!" |
| The renamed Oasis moved into one of the rehearsal rooms in the basement, stuck up Beatles posters and daubed a union flag on the wall, and started rehearsing Noel's songs. | The renamed Oasis moved into one of the rehearsal rooms in the basement, stuck up Beatles posters and daubed a union flag on the wall, and started rehearsing Noel's songs. |
| "You'd walk out of the rehearsal room and there would be guys from another band and they'd go, 'What is that you're playing?'" Oasis guitarist Bonehead recalled years later. "'Oh, it's one of Noel's songs you know, it's us.' 'Who are you?' 'Oasis.' 'That's amazing!'" | "You'd walk out of the rehearsal room and there would be guys from another band and they'd go, 'What is that you're playing?'" Oasis guitarist Bonehead recalled years later. "'Oh, it's one of Noel's songs you know, it's us.' 'Who are you?' 'Oasis.' 'That's amazing!'" |
| They also made their debut with Noel upstairs on 18 August 1991 before playing the venue four times in 1992 and three times in 1993. "They would only be fourth on the bill at the Boardwalk," says old friend and tour DJ Phil Smith. "And they only used to play them because they hadn't paid the rent for the rehearsal rooms underneath, so they used to get stuck on with loads of crap bands." | They also made their debut with Noel upstairs on 18 August 1991 before playing the venue four times in 1992 and three times in 1993. "They would only be fourth on the bill at the Boardwalk," says old friend and tour DJ Phil Smith. "And they only used to play them because they hadn't paid the rent for the rehearsal rooms underneath, so they used to get stuck on with loads of crap bands." |
| The Boardwalk was also home to long-running club nights Yellow, started by Haçienda DJ Dave Haslam, and Funkademia, run by David Payne. | The Boardwalk was also home to long-running club nights Yellow, started by Haçienda DJ Dave Haslam, and Funkademia, run by David Payne. |
| Maine Road | Maine Road |
| Maine Road opened in 1923, and was home to Manchester City (and Manchester United for a few years after the second world war, as Old Trafford was bomb-damaged) until they took over the Commonwealth Games stadium –now the Etihad Stadium – in 2003. | Maine Road opened in 1923, and was home to Manchester City (and Manchester United for a few years after the second world war, as Old Trafford was bomb-damaged) until they took over the Commonwealth Games stadium –now the Etihad Stadium – in 2003. |
| Maine Road, surrounded by the narrow terraced streets of Moss Side, played host to some of music's biggest names, including David Bowie (1987), Fleetwood Mac (1988), Pink Floyd (1988), the Rolling Stones (1990), Prince (1990) and Jean Michel Jarre (1993), but the first local act to play there was Oasis in 1996. Noel had been at the Pink Floyd gig, because he loved The Wall, and both Gallaghers had served time on the terraces supporting their beloved City. | Maine Road, surrounded by the narrow terraced streets of Moss Side, played host to some of music's biggest names, including David Bowie (1987), Fleetwood Mac (1988), Pink Floyd (1988), the Rolling Stones (1990), Prince (1990) and Jean Michel Jarre (1993), but the first local act to play there was Oasis in 1996. Noel had been at the Pink Floyd gig, because he loved The Wall, and both Gallaghers had served time on the terraces supporting their beloved City. |
| The massive Kippax Stand, the tallest in the country, had only been open a year at the time of the Oasis gig. The stand cost £16m, but the whole ground would be demolished only eight years later, when City moved. | The massive Kippax Stand, the tallest in the country, had only been open a year at the time of the Oasis gig. The stand cost £16m, but the whole ground would be demolished only eight years later, when City moved. |
| After they released their debut album Definitely Maybe, Oasis played Manchester Academy; after (What's The Story) Morning Glory, they played Manchester Arena. Six months later, they returned to play two nights at Maine Road. They had been on the road almost constantly since the release of Morning Glory, and had just scored their second No 1 with Don't Look Back in Anger. A few people may look back in anger at the gig, as policing was refused after a dispute, affording local scallies a weekend of easy pickings as they mugged people for their tickets and sold them immediately for a tidy profit. Inside, there was a huge celebratory atmosphere, and Maine Road is possibly the high-water mark of Oasis's early years, a better performance than the huge Knebworth gigs four months later. Support came from Manic Street Preachers, playing the first public gig since the disappearance of Richey Edwards (apart from the secret warmup they played to a handful of people in the basement of the Haçienda the night before) and Ocean Colour Scene. In 2003, fellow Mancs Doves played in the middle of the pitch at Maine Road, on the day of the final match – though the season had ended badly for Man City, who were relegated. | After they released their debut album Definitely Maybe, Oasis played Manchester Academy; after (What's The Story) Morning Glory, they played Manchester Arena. Six months later, they returned to play two nights at Maine Road. They had been on the road almost constantly since the release of Morning Glory, and had just scored their second No 1 with Don't Look Back in Anger. A few people may look back in anger at the gig, as policing was refused after a dispute, affording local scallies a weekend of easy pickings as they mugged people for their tickets and sold them immediately for a tidy profit. Inside, there was a huge celebratory atmosphere, and Maine Road is possibly the high-water mark of Oasis's early years, a better performance than the huge Knebworth gigs four months later. Support came from Manic Street Preachers, playing the first public gig since the disappearance of Richey Edwards (apart from the secret warmup they played to a handful of people in the basement of the Haçienda the night before) and Ocean Colour Scene. In 2003, fellow Mancs Doves played in the middle of the pitch at Maine Road, on the day of the final match – though the season had ended badly for Man City, who were relegated. |
| Eastern Bloc | Eastern Bloc |
| The record shop Eastern Bloc was launched as a cooperative by Martin Price and John Berry in 1985, who also launched a housing co-operative in Bolton around the same time called New Build. Originally located in Affleck's Arcade, below Affleck's Palace, Eastern Bloc specialised in underground electronic and alternative music, and quickly attracted a loose collective who called themselves Hit Squad Manchester, from which would emerge Manchester's first acid house stars Gerald Simpson (aka A Guy Called Gerald) and 808 State plus Ruthless Rap Assassins and MC Tunes. "Eastern Bloc was like a magnet for all the freaks into leftfield electronic music," remembers 808's Darren Partington. "It didn't attract purists back then, it attracted open-minded people; you could find kindred spirits in that shop. We were the musical misfits of Manchester, and Eastern Bloc was the catalyst that brought us all together and kept us together." | The record shop Eastern Bloc was launched as a cooperative by Martin Price and John Berry in 1985, who also launched a housing co-operative in Bolton around the same time called New Build. Originally located in Affleck's Arcade, below Affleck's Palace, Eastern Bloc specialised in underground electronic and alternative music, and quickly attracted a loose collective who called themselves Hit Squad Manchester, from which would emerge Manchester's first acid house stars Gerald Simpson (aka A Guy Called Gerald) and 808 State plus Ruthless Rap Assassins and MC Tunes. "Eastern Bloc was like a magnet for all the freaks into leftfield electronic music," remembers 808's Darren Partington. "It didn't attract purists back then, it attracted open-minded people; you could find kindred spirits in that shop. We were the musical misfits of Manchester, and Eastern Bloc was the catalyst that brought us all together and kept us together." |
| Eastern Bloc's Martin Price was one of the founding members of 808 State, along with Graham Massey (who worked in the sandwich shop across the road) and Simpson. Their first release, New Build, was named after Price's housing cooperative. | Eastern Bloc's Martin Price was one of the founding members of 808 State, along with Graham Massey (who worked in the sandwich shop across the road) and Simpson. Their first release, New Build, was named after Price's housing cooperative. |
| After Simpson left, Andrew Barker and Partington joined; in 1989, they had a hit with Pacific State and found themselves on Top of the Pops. Barker was still a roofer at the time, and their success seemed to reflect the spirit of the city. "There was an amazing creative energy in Manchester at the time," he says. "People just invented their own jobs: DJs, graphic designers, clothes labels." | After Simpson left, Andrew Barker and Partington joined; in 1989, they had a hit with Pacific State and found themselves on Top of the Pops. Barker was still a roofer at the time, and their success seemed to reflect the spirit of the city. "There was an amazing creative energy in Manchester at the time," he says. "People just invented their own jobs: DJs, graphic designers, clothes labels." |
| DJs including Laurent Garnier, Jon DaSilva, Sasha, the Chemical Brothers (then called the Dust Brothers), Mike Pickering and Graeme Park were all customers, and several DJs served time behind the counter, including Justin Robertson, Dean Wilson, Richard Hector-Jones and Moonboots. As the shop outgrew its original location, buoyed by the explosion of acid house, it moved across the road to larger premises. | DJs including Laurent Garnier, Jon DaSilva, Sasha, the Chemical Brothers (then called the Dust Brothers), Mike Pickering and Graeme Park were all customers, and several DJs served time behind the counter, including Justin Robertson, Dean Wilson, Richard Hector-Jones and Moonboots. As the shop outgrew its original location, buoyed by the explosion of acid house, it moved across the road to larger premises. |
| "Sometimes we'd get people who had obviously been up all night after the Haçienda, waiting outside the shop for it to open on a Saturday morning," remembers Hector-Jones. "They'd be desperate and go, 'Have you got the one that goes, "duh duh duh duuuh"?' One woman came in one day and said 'Have you got the record they played at the Haçienda last night?' I said, 'Which one?' And she said, 'It was just one record that played all night.' She thought it was just one five-hour-long record." Luke Bainbridge | "Sometimes we'd get people who had obviously been up all night after the Haçienda, waiting outside the shop for it to open on a Saturday morning," remembers Hector-Jones. "They'd be desperate and go, 'Have you got the one that goes, "duh duh duh duuuh"?' One woman came in one day and said 'Have you got the record they played at the Haçienda last night?' I said, 'Which one?' And she said, 'It was just one record that played all night.' She thought it was just one five-hour-long record." Luke Bainbridge |
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