My So Called Music: January 2013

So, this blog is my life in music. I started to write this blog; put together a few pieces. But I wanted my first blog to have meaning. So I started by writing about some events with friends. And then life happened and one of those friends ceased to be someone I could recount over red wine the very memories I had been writing about. So the focus of the piece changed and I knocked it out quickly. And then it was too hard to return to for editing and completing. So this is a little late. I hope that some people reading this will gain an insight into times I had with a dear friend of mine. Times we shared. And maybe even times they heard about. Maybe.

It is going to be about one of my best friends. Already mentioned in my pre-post, one of my oldest and best friends is Reena. The times we had were many and happy; and had their own music to accompany them. That she has been taken recently, and far too soon, served to remind me of those times and my teenage life. A period of time when music really started to hold meaning and soundtrack my life. Importantly, the main reason for this blog; these are memories I do not want to become dawn shadows as my mental faculties fade.

Where to start. Well, at one of the first memories to mind when I heard. I know, full well, that I danced with Reena Ribena on many, many occasions in twee clubs and gigs (honourable mentions to Tiger Lounge and the Star and Garter, both clubs in Manchester). So it comes as some surprise to me that my main memory of dancing with her is to the beautiful people by Marilyn Manson. Sure, there were others. Closer by Nine Inch Nails and PCP by the Manic Street Preachers stand out (the Manics, ahh, they will receive further word count, rest assure). And there were defiantly many, many others.

But it is the beautiful people that I really remember. In Manchester, in the Ritz, during the happiest worst days of my teenage life. No idea why this is the memory that has come to the fore but there it is. The Ritz was great and cemented many friendships, created many (MANY) more and basically started me upon the life I know now. That may sound dramatic but, well, it did. The friends, the culture, the atmosphere and the music. All imprinting on a drunk teenage mind. The Ritz may well have formed me. Well, I guess the Ritz will be another blog at some point. But this song was the first place my mind went. Huh.

I first met Ribena at Grand Central, a dingy rock pub in Manchester. I was with Dave and we were headed to a gay indie club called Poptastic, in the early days when it was at the Bloom Street Hotel. (I was pulled an experimental lesbian I had been chasing in there. It was a fun place.)

I was recently reminded, from two separate sources, that he was referred to as Sexy Dave by a number of people - a trend I started one night in a bar I worked at, with a few friends. I wanted to start a cult, it seemed reasonable to start the cult of Sexy Dave. We made a few posters and flyers. For some reason, down the years, I see occasional reference to this or hear "oh, that Dave, Sexy Dave" which seems that a night of silly in a bar kinda expanded beyond what you would reasonably expect. If only I had put that effort into something a little more, well, useful. Anyways.

Dave was friends with Nina and Reena and that night started a long, true friendship which, as with any friendship of long standing, had ups and downs along with the odd absence during its run. I am also pretty sure that Glam Nathan was there but for some reason I cannot remember him that night. If not then, then certainly the next time.

Still, there it is. We wanted to go to a place where we could stick on as much glitter and eyeliner as our skin could hold, squeeze into skin tight PVC and dance to the kitschiest indie music available. Bis, Kenickie, old school Manics, St. Etienne, etc. Something that the five of us did a lot. Everywhere. (There were other folks but this was my glam core group). It was great. I am reminded of Mark, the campest person I have ever met, with a Boy George look perfected.

He was regularly at Poptastic in the early days, and may well have been in the years later but contact was lost and the rest of his story is unknown to me. I remember him telling us his family had no idea he was gay and was considering standing up at the Christmas family dinner table and coming out. I wish you could see my mental video replay.

The stripped down version is him getting up, glitter floating everywhere, flicking back his feather bower, waving wrists in the air and full of lisp saying 'Oh, by the way, I'm gay'. I know, this is a terrible stereotype of a gay queen but one he went out of his way to portray to the nth degree. I cannot help but wonder how is these days and if he actually went for it. Or if he now goes to work in a suit. I hope he did not follow Boy George's lead!

So yes. To me Ribena was all about the glam and the kitch. My soundtrack music for her has to be PVC by Kenickie. If one song sums up how fabulous she was, that is it. Not the most obvious lyric, but "The moral of this little tale. Do what you like and you can't fail." Be yourself. She did. I try.

Once we went to watch Spiceworld the movie with Sexy Dave. And because I did it with Dave and Reena, it was perfectly acceptable. Whatever opinion you may have. Course, we did so in fake furs and eyeliner. And then got drunk prior to the screening, on Absolute ColaCube to be accurate, despite the fact it was an afternoon matinee. On a Saturday. i.e. lots of kids were also there. I seem to remember some unsuitable comments being made loudly about the Spicegirls and what I would like to do to them. Opps. I mean, what someone would like to do to them. Yobs.

And then Suede, who we watched together at Reading, in 1997. It was the same festival where I forwent watching Metallica, who I really am not fussed about, to watch Bis. Bis, who I loved. Kitsch at its best! It is defiantly the same festival where me and Tony dressed up appropriately to watch Marilyn Manson (before Mechanical Animal came out, so the Antichrist Superstar tour).

We headed to town just before that, already ready. Got some grief of a couple of coppers, although that may have been after Tony waved a rubber bat in their faces... A bat I remember ending up in Dave's bedroom when he was at his dads for some random reason - why can I never remember useful stuff? Because of details like this pushing all the stuff I really do need, out. I am pretty sure we were listened to the Delgados album Domestiques when I noticed the bat.

Whilst talking of Tony (who I saw this weekend and, believe me, that happens infrequently as we live in different countries) another story springs to mind. One time, whilst Reena was at uni in Leicester, we decided to visit (to be clear - not just once, but it is this time that I am telling you about). We drove down in Tony's beat up blue car. It was an interesting ride. We couldn't find the car park at a service station so we ended up parked on a lay-by 'cause we really needed a wee.

Then we got lost just after this. But it had a silver lining as we ended up on Shady Lane which was ace because we love that track by Pavement on Brighten the Corners.

If this was now I would be adding a picture taken on my smart phone with location tagged and modded by Instagram. But this was the good old days. Before mobile phones period. When you rang each other on the landline and sorted out when to meet and had to stick to it. Like when you made a date. You used to wait an hour when stood up just in case she was late. She couldn't text to let you know. And being late did happen. So did being stood up. So yes, you had to be on time.

And our excursion to Shady Lane meant we were well late and suffered Reena's ire for a little while. A great night followed, as it always did. In the rock club in Leicester. What was it called... Oh well, can't remember. Anyways, good times. Btb, Tony and Reena once bought me porn for my birthday. Bit of a surprise and glad I didn't open it up in front of me mum. I used a few of the pages as paper for my letters (non-electronic correspondence for those that need clarification) to Reena which she did open in front of people, a full lecture theatre at uni. :)

I hope I maintain that same silly sense of humour that few people get but Reena and Tony did.

It was also the same festival we watched the Manic Street Preachers (yes, back to Reading '97). Nicky Wire's first appearance in a dress since the disappearance of Richey I believe dodgy fact fans. So that was how the group I met in Grand Central formed prior to me. They were Manic's fans. Old school, feather boa clad Manic's fans. When we met was before Design for Life came out. A reasonable album but not a patch on its elders. The glam punk of Generation Terrorists was a joy.

What kind of song takes the chorus from the names of banks?

And how the hell do they make it... work? Course, me and Ribena could chat repetitively for hours making up stories about how Richey did not disappear but was in fact eaten by James Dean and Sean. Because they got fat. So, of course we had many altered lyrics to take this into account. I wish I could remember more but the obvious one was the one that could be true. You know, from Stay Beautiful, "why don't you just...eat pies". Immature. No, not at all. No us. Naw...

Bugger. Me tea has been brewing for the last few paragraphs... at least. Oops.

Ironically, one of my fav memories of Ribena is Glastonbury 2000. We had not spoke in a while. Stuff had happened and I was angry with her. Silly, but that is how life is. I would love to have those years of our wasted friendship back but what happened happened and made us both who we were as a result. Still, it is funny how one of my fav moments was when we were not friends. We had not spoke in a while and met each other the middle of a field.

We watched Nine Inch Nails and then drank a shed load of red wine (the good stuff, in nondescript plastic bottles from the festival bar...) and chatted and ended up just crashing in my tent late on. We listened to Jamie Theakston (he does not deserve bold type) on the radio give a clueless account of the NIN show (one of the biggest disappointments of my life, that gig btw, no energy at all - they made up for it with later shows tho) and so we bitched about him (and NIN for that matter).

The next morning we rose late and came out to a circle of mutual friends all going 'woooo'. Nothing happened, and we shared this with the crowd. But I am sure the scandal lasted a few hours at least. Not my fav moment just yet; just makes me smile.

The next evening was the last night of Glasto. Ribena and I stood right at the barrier, to the left, and watched David Bowie play his greatest hits. This is one of those gigs you had to be at. I was. With Reena. And I often remind or inform people of this very fact.

Such as random dude in Barcelona this summer (I was there for the mighty festival that is Primavera) who asked if I had ever seen Bowie live (I was wearing a Bowie t-shirt). When I said yes the guys was shocked. Apparently he asked a shed load of peeps that very question and I was the first person to say "yes". I pointed out I not only saw him, but it was an ultra rare greatest hits tour and I was with my friend Reena.

I was actually getting a lift home from Glasto with Phi, who DJ'd in Poptastic btw - it's odd how these things loop around. He wanted to leave before the crowds and I promised to be there. The time chosen was just before David Bowie took the stage. One of the two reasons I went at all, the other being NIN (tho I was gutted to find out I had missed the Flaming Lips afterwards - no, I did not realise...).

Needless to say I was not going to miss Bowie. I got there 3 hours late and we got stuck in peak leaving Glasto traffic. The guys were not happy, not at all. Not a little bit. I just said I couldn't find the car... but as for me and Ribena, we consequently did not speak for years. But that gig was bliss. True perfection.

Anyways, back in the day she used to say that I was a mix of Tony Wright from Terrorvision (who I have no problem admitting I loved at that time - probably still in the top 3 list of bands I have seen live the most) and Tigger from Winnie the Pooh because of my constant bouncing and energy. I wish I still had some level of that energy left... This was said in the common room of a friend's halls of residence in London somewhere. Which I am reminded of because this was the same trip where one of the most bizarre, random nights of my life occurred. The Tom Jones night.

We had basically gone to London for a week over New Year. Dave, Reena and I. We stayed with Marie, another friend of times past (last time I saw her I was sick after a night of cider in her bathroom - sick in the bathroom not drinking cider in the bathroom. That would be crazy). We had gone for a big New Year night out at Popstars in the big smoke.

It was a great night. We did the classic 'not used to London and only half the group managing to get on the underground before the doors shut and hoping to God that when we got off at the next station they would be on the next tube because this was all before mobile phones so modern readers may not realise how much a pain in the ass this could actually be especially when I was in the part of the group that had no idea where we were going' stuff. And we met Nina and Katy in the club that played kitch stuff and was basically a great night.

We also spent days rewriting Manics lyrics to fit to our twisted sense of made up rock history. I.e. fitting in "pies" as often as we could. We also quoted a shed load of Eddie Izzard (Definite Article era). 'Cause that is what we did.

And, post NYE, we got drunk and were tired. But one of Marie's flatmates had found the cassette inlay for a Tom Jones tape in the street (a format to listen to music on before we got better formats although it was not as good as vinyl beforehand but vinyl was just not portable unlike cassettes on a walkman - portable music, genius). So we came home to this stuck on the fridge door.

Mania followed.

Why, well, who can tell. I suspect it is because we all had great imaginations before life dragged us down a little. And are very silly people.

That and alcohol and sleep deprivation.

We had to decorate the fridge. Glam it up for ole Tom. Tinsel did the job. And glitter. Then drawings (plural) that we spontaneously made of Tom and us or Tom in scenes of being awesome. Well, the fridge door became a shrine. So then we prayed to the door. And respectfully kissed the door in order to be blessed. (I know. Touching a shrine to be blessed. Crazy. Who would do such a thing?)

Then we gathered to tell stories of mighty Tom and sing his songs in his honour.

Then a cupboard was set aside for quiet meditation in Tom's name. We fit 4 in there once.

People had Tomgasms.

A wig was located, the curly black type. Then we could pretend to be Tom whilst the others knelt before them. Of course, jealousy followed over who would be Tom and running around the garden ensued.

I would say that this night was made up, but I have photographs. It was real. Who needs drugs, we were able to create a whole world within our minds for a night. Legendary. And, well, a bit... nuts. Another of my top 10 life memories with friends (Bowie being also in this list) and once again with Reena and music, if pretty ropey musically (although at the time he was duetting with Catatonia I think so he had some kitch cred just then - but neither would enjoy that for long).

So, I think this is a good place to finish.

Love you Reena, you will not be forgotten and I am committing our exploits to the mercy of the web. I'll miss ya chuck xxx

The writing of this piece was accompanied by the Knife - Silent Shout, Gallon Drunk - In the Long Still Night and Rachel's - The Sea and the Bells, Arcwelder - Xerxes.

My So Called Music

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Wednesday, January 30, 2013

This is an entry about a dear, missed friend Reena