GREAT LOST VENUES – THE FINAL WORD?
Nice to see the Pound Club in Belfast featured in your 50 Great Lost Venues [February issue] – but it certainly wasn’t the premier punk venue in these parts. I played guitar and sang in RUDI, and we were, for our sins, the very first punk band in Belfast – and more significantly the only such combo actually out playing in public through 1976/77. By far the most important punk venue in these parts was the Harp Bar. A run-down dingy pub located outside the city centre security gates in semi-derelict Hill Street, the Harp was initially renowned for the lowrent strippers at lunchtime.
Like all the best rock’n’roll venues, the Harp was a real dive – but what made it different from any punk venues here up until then was its city-centre location, which enabled young punks from both sides of the sectarian divide to meet up in relative safety. But it couldn’t last – and when audiences dwindled in the early ’80s as the first wave/s of punk ground to a halt, the Harp bizarrely attempted to reinvent itself as a country & western venue replete with cardboard cacti, wagon wheels and swinging doors. It flopped miserably and the bar closed down shortly after. It was later bulldozed into the ground and is now the site of Housing Executive offices.
Somewhat bewilderingly, a couple of years back, Belfast City Council, who loathed punk rock back in the day, erected a plaque in Hill Street, now part of the thriving “Cathedral Quarter”, commemorating the Harp Bar and several of the bands who played there.
I know “tourists are money”, but the bitter irony wasn’t lost on those of us who misspent our youth within those hallowed walls… Brian Young, Belfast …Between January 1977 and October 1982, I had the privilege of working for Listen/Bloggs, which was the premier independent record store chain in Glasgow. Occasionally we got freebies, but more often than not shelled out between £1.50 to £5 for a ticket – except when the Stones played a surprise gig on May 27, 1982 for the princely sum of £6.50 (the tickets just stated “The Concert”).
Probably the most memorable of countless visits to the Apollo was when Van Morrison played on March 16, 1979. As you mentioned, it had a very high stage, which was met with a look of terror by the Man when he came out after the band had played a warm-up (instrumental?) number.
He stood at the microphone for his first song and you could see (even from row Y in the stalls) his discomfort. So, when he had finished, he went over to the pianist, unceremoniously shoved him off his seat and proceeded to play the rest of the concert from there. No doubt, for the first few rows, this was their last sight of Morrison, and as for the guy he displaced, I have no clear memory, but he was obviously now surplus to requirements.
This is just one of many other memories (including the balcony, which did indeed vibrate and was a challenge even when still given how steeply raked it was) that are all wrapped up in the most atmospheric concert hall I have ever attended. Tim Chronnell, via email …Manchester’s The International used to book fabulous US bands in the mid-late ’80s. An unfortunate regular occurrence was a nearby taxi firm’s calls feeding loudly through the amps, much to their bemusement. It became a running joke with club regulars… “Taxi for Tufnell!” To be fair, most powered through and some probably didn’t even notice. And it was always a nice crowd. Steve Richards, Stoke-on-Trent …Going back over this article reminded me of the time we travelled from Middlesbrough to Scarborough Penthouse to see The David Johansen Group (with Syl Sylvain), which must have been 1978/9. We went for a pint beforehand, and bumped into the band in the pub. After the show the venue asked for volunteers to help lug the gear down the never-ending stairs to the van. We were told by one of the official crew that it was supposed to be six people, getting a fiver each. There were only three of us, so we thought we would get a tenner each. Several trips and aching muscles later, we were given the measly sum of £1 each as recompense for our efforts. Great gig, though, and I’m sure I’ve still got the autographs somewhere… Gordon Baxter, via email …I lived in London for a few years in the late ’80s, so went to most of the London venues you listed; then frequented the Duchess in Leeds for most of the ’90s. What is sobering, looking back, is how many gigs I used to go to at mid-sized venues. Now there are fewer venues, you have a lot less choice. In the ’90s, we had to decide which gigs to go to and which we couldn’t afford, there were so many. I can list about a dozen different venues where I used to go to gigs that no longer put on bands. At least we have the Brudenell in Leeds, so some of the feel of the good old days is still there. If only there were more options out there. Russ Spence, via email …Reading your Great Lost Venues article in the February issue brought back many treasured memories of the Free Trade Hall in Manchester. One such memory dates back to early 1971. Three then little known bands, Van Der Graaf Generator, Lindisfarne and Genesis played the venue on Saturday, January 30 for the princely sum of 6/- (30p). Then, on Friday, March 5 of that same year, The Rolling Stones played two houses for a more costly 15/- (75p).
Great times. Ray O’Donnell, via email …I was 16 that summer in 1970. Studied English in Croydon. A month filled with great music from great bands. MC5 and Derek & The Dominos at The Marquee. MC5 was like travelling at the speed of sound. Knock out! Actually, they scared the shit out of me for 30 seconds. I felt like I was glued to the wall behind me. The volume and power was so overwhelming. Back on solid ground I loved it. Derek & The Dominos at The Marquee, August 11, the same summer. All of them great players. The next day I flew back to Sweden, more experienced and wiser than I was when I left a month earlier.
Peace & love!