Day Five: Perhaps not the greatest song of all time, but we liked it 25 years ago...and it retains a certain meaning in my cranium. Picture the scene. Late(ish) July, 1990. The world cup was a throbbing memory, shoved aside for the birthday of Crowls. A group of young men, mostly good friends from school, with one relative newcomer - me. Id been friends with Ian for about six years already, but had only recently begun to knock about with his schoolmates, Neil, Martin, Dave and, not forgetting, Mike. These were the fledgling days of our friendship and Mike and I had, up to that point, retained a healthy distance, but the night of Martins 18th, with the intricately decorated birthday card from myself and Mr Black (nasal debris as art), changed the course of history forever and gave birth to one of my catchphrases. Much the worse for wear, possibly the early hours, probably about 10pm, out in the fresh summer night air my mix tape came out. This was the 80s. Well, seven months after the 80s had finished. The mix tape was very much the done thing. And for this motley bunch, a very metal tape was the order of the day. Unfortunately, Dave Curran and myself were unfamiliar with the workings of Martin’s highly-complicated (or not) stereo, squinting with one eye closed and mashing at the buttons. No music came, and as my drunken frustrations grew, I gave vent to these with an outburst. Eventually we found the play button, but instead of the aforementioned thrash metal warblings, what did we hear? Silence, fumbling, then a nasally Scouse voice slurring in the night “Where’s my Sacred Reich tunes, or wha’???” Yes, we had managed to record over the opening bars of Critical Mass and replace it with mine and Dave’s drunken button-smashing tomfoolery. After a few seconds, the music recommenced and Mike and I danced the doom-dance around the garden of Mr & Mrs Crowley. Legend has it the muddy circle we created still exists today, as does the friendship between Mike and myself, forged in the beer and mud of that West Derby garden more than 24 years ago. The stories of the chess, finding drunken oafs in the cupboard under the stairs, people cleaning up other people’s vomit and so on may have to wait for another day.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 09:19:37 +0000
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