Lost my virginity and my band. Some weekend. Both events had been foreshadowed for a while, but to have experienced the ecstasy and the agony within twenty-four hours has left me both delighted and disappointed,…

“Killing Joke? It’ll be like United away at Millwall, Adrian Street versus Giant Haystacks, Jesus at Golgotha, we’ll get crucified!” Following DVA’s decent away performance at Bauhaus’ coven in the caverns under…

Gig poster courtesy of Simon Dell. “Reagan’s president elect Fascist god in motion… Brothers, sisters, we don’t need this fascist groove thang.” Sheffield friends Heaven 17 have just released ‘(We Don’t Need…

Gig flyer courtesy of Jon Downing. A mid-morning coffee-break at the National Coal Board’s offices on Queen Street, Sheffield. On the second-floor landing, a small queue is forming at the vending machine, proffering ten…

Sunday lunch-time. George Quail, sixty-five year-old, recently retired steel mill worker, is poring over an existential essay written by Genesis P-Orridge, thirty year-old musician, artist and disruptor-in-chief with Throbbing Gristle. Entitled “A Lion In A…

A Thursday night in The Bee Hive pub at the top of West Street. I’m here with band-mate Charlie Collins, Richard Kirk and his girlfriend Lynn Clarke. This is their local, being just a…