Book Review – The Independent by Henry McDonald Sunday 9th November 2003

PUNK’S LOST VISION

A night of punk nostalgia ends in the accident and emergency department of Belfast City Hospital. It sounds like the background for a rum song from a New (Old) Wave tribute band or the rickety plot of a play starring Kenneth Branagh who is portraying Terry Hooley at one of the latter's famous punk festivals in 1979-80. In fact this rip-roaring, bone-splintering farce took place on Thursday night/Friday morning involving this writer.

As the evening drew to a close inside the John Hewitt bar in Donegall Street I slipped on the tiled floor outside the toilets and smashed my right wrist on the ground. I write this column with my right arm in a sling, gingerly tapping out the text with my left hand. In between the wincing and the whining - I am suffering for you dear readers this weekend - there is one inescapable conclusion about my painful tumble: treachery not pride goeth before a fall.

The betrayal in question was of my punk brethren. We had gathered together in the belle époque -style theatre/dance floor upstairs at the Empire pub in Botanic Avenue. The occasion was the launch of It Makes You Want to Spit, a book celebrating the history of punk and New Wave in Northern Ireland from 1977 to 1982. Written by Sean O'Neill (aka Seany Rotten) and Guy Trelford, it features all the major bands from the era, including Rudi, Victim, Ruefrex, the Outcasts, the Defects and of course Stiff Little Fingers and the Undertones.

As well as articles on the bands there are recollections from writers such as Glenn Patterson and Colin Bateman as well as contributions from ageing greying hacks like this old journo. There are also dozens of photographs of young punks and old hanging out mainly in downtown Belfast at the end of the 1970s.

BBC producer and former member of Protex, Owen McFadden, offers the most touching and apposite memoir. Owen recalls the infamous Clash concert at the Ulster Hall in 1977 when the RUC attacked a crowd of punk fans protesting over rumours that the gig was about to be cancelled.
'Much was made of spiky haired youths lying in front of RUC Land-Rovers in protest. We talked, got to know one another; each of us amazed that there were other people like us in our wretched city,' remembers Owen, a succinct summation of the spirit of punk in Northern Ireland.

If Owen's recollections neatly sum up the era another contributor, called Mr Puke, provides the most bizarre reflections. They are also the most brutally honest. Mr Puke admits to degenerating into chronic alcoholism, glue sniffing and drug use. And yet Mr Puke is not embarrassed to admit that he is now a bishop and international evangelist in a Pentecostal church. But even he is still motivated by the spirit of punk almost as much as the Holy Spirit. Despite his own conversion to born-again Christianity, Mr Puke-the-Pastor still defends the Sex Pistols' 'God Save The Queen' in the face of the Free Presbyterian church's outrage.

Throughout the early part of the evening there were many reunions at the bar between old punks in their late thirties, forties and even fifties. I was almost wrestled to the ground in bear hug by Paul Burgess from Ruefrex, now a doctor of sociology at Cork University. Terry Hooley, meanwhile, ambushed some of his old customers from his shop, Good Vibrations, for video interviews about those good old days.

However, rather than risk being accused of hypocrisy, having previously scorned the concept of old punk bands reforming (see Observer 29 December 2002), I slipped quietly out of the Empire's door and into a taxi, stealing away like a thief in the night. So on reflection perhaps my stumble and subsequent hours in casualty were part of some weird karma, pay-back time for not trusting my instincts and staying with 'my people', some of the best people to emerge from this still divided society, people who broke the sectarian taboos, tore off the tribal placards placed on their heads since birth, the people that first showed that there was another life beyond the narrow confines of orange and green.

Contrast the punks and their offshoots with the dull conformism of youth in the twenty-first century. A 'community' newspaper recently reported that students from Belfast's Queen's University are demanding the closure of a brothel in India Street off Botanic Avenue. There are two obvious reactions to this tale of student moral indignation.

First, when I was a student the idea of living beside a knocking-shop would have been regarded as the height of decadent Bohemianism. Second, the idea of culchie students complaining about humps in the night next door is brazenly hypocritical. Given the disgusting behaviour of a small minority of students around Belfast's Holy Land, I suspect the settled residents of the university area would prefer to live beside Miss Whiplash and Naughty Nurse Sue rather than Phelim and Paschal and their 'fierce-crack-in-the-union' rants at four o'clock in the morning.

Book review - Sunday Independent 7th Dec 20013 by Declan Lynch

THOSE NORTHERN PuNkS – THEY’D MAKE YOU WNT TO SPIT.

MAYBE it's just post-election blues. But now, more than ever, it seems that the Belfast punk scene of the late 1970s was the only good thing that ever happened in Northern Ireland.

It is celebrated in a handsome and heartfelt new publication, It Makes You Want To Spit! - An Alternative Ulster 1977-1982. You could even call it a coffee-table book, though there was little coffee drunk at that time.

It might even pass across the desk of some bright young official in the Northern Ireland office who will note the unique absence of a sectarian element and the fact that punk was one of the few things of any cultural merit to emerge from Northern Ireland since the angry young Them. He might even recall a few snatches of an Undertones' hit and deem it all very quaint but not really relevant to the Peace Process, going forward.

And as for the elected representatives themselves, perhaps 95 per cent of them are completely unaware that this one good thing happened in Northern Ireland. Though, in fairness, on this topic my media colleagues wouldn't be of much assistance to them either.

Most political journalists come from the same junkie sub-culture as the people they write about; they tend to be very ignorant people when it comes to almost any subject other than politics. So most of them would fail what I call the Terri Hooley test. To pass the Terri Hooley test, you don't need to know Terri personally, or know that he ran the Good Vibrations record label and the record shop on Great Victoria Street which is now one of the 15 most famous rock 'n' roll sites in the British Isles, along with The Cavern in Liverpool and the tree where Marc Bolan died. To pass the test, you just need to have heard of him.

Have any of the Peace Process wizards padding across those thick five-star hotel carpets in their alligator shoes heard of Terri Hooley? Has Gerry Adams heard of Terri Hooley? Well, while Terri and his troops of all religions and none were bringing a bit of nightlife back to Belfast, Adams was striving for the opposite effect, broadly speaking. So it's just possible he might have heard of Terri, without necessarily rating him as a serious human being with a purpose in life.

I mention Adams because he regards himself as a man of culture unlike the barbarians he has to deal with.But he was a busy man back then, so he has doubtless never heard of bands such as Rudi, Protex, The Xdreamysts, The Outcasts and Ruefrex, who recorded classic singles on Good Vibrations.If, indeed, he ever gets around to hearing the Good Vibes back catalogue at his holiday retreat, his feet up on the coffee-table while perusing this crucial social document It Makes you Want To Spit!, it would only emphasise the bald truth that, within living memory, no music of any merit has come out of Northern nationalism. None.

I repeat, for the entire duration of the Troubles, the stuff that came out of that little shop on Great Victoria Street was the only stuff that was any good. That it was non-sectarian was just a bonus, but a pretty good one. It needs to be repeated, because it has been virtually buried, as much by ignorance as by prejudice. And whatever about its horrors, the North really can't afford to be burying its good stuff.
On the media side, precious few would pass the Terri Hooley test. I once espied Terri in Dublin's Palace Bar and he introduced me to his drinking companion Jim Cusack, now of this organ. So Jim is cool. And journalist Henry McDonald makes the cut, contributing a piece to this book in which he describes his reaction on first seeing Johnny Rotten screaming Pretty Vacant into the microphone on Top of the Pops. "I remember saying to myself: Yes, yes, that's for me." The same Henry ended up writing a biography of David Trimble.

Novelist Colin Bateman was there or thereabouts, and there's a typically fine piece by the late lamented Bill Graham, the most brilliant journalist in Ireland for the last 50 years, whose wisdom you will not remember from Questions & Answers, because they'd never heard of him.
Hailing the Undertones just as he discovered U2, Bill writes: "Teenage Kicks is the word and the sound, an anthem from the most unlikely of sources - Derry. Come in, Phil Coulter, your time is up."
A chilling reminder there, that Phil's time has come again, that the best Irish music is made in a spirit of revolt, and we are in a conformist phase at present.

IT was Ireland's best film-maker, John T Davis, who captured the spirit of Belfast 1977-82 with Shell Shock Rock. "I couldn't afford rolling credits", he recalls, "but I really wanted them. So I had all the credits printed out onto a long strip, white on black cardboard. I then used part of a childhood train set, straight track and coaches. I placed the camera on a tripod above the tracks and put the credits on the coaches. I then pulled the credits along at the right speed and that's how I managed to have my rolling credits at the end of the film." Now regarded as a classic, Shell Shock Rock was banned by the jury at the Cork Film Festival.

It Makes You Want To Spit! - An Alternative Ulster 1977-82, by Sean O'Neill and Guy Trelford, is published by Reekus, price £21.99.

Book review – Trakmarx.com Issue 19 by Guy Debored.

“It Makes You Want To Spit” by Sean O’Neill & Guy Trelford (Reekus Publishing)

As 1977 collapsed in a hail of spit, fatigue, disillusion & heroin, the first wave of UK Punk Rock was on it’s knees - & inspiration was no longer at a premium. As the second wave of UK Punk groups laboriously cut their hair & applied the lard/sugar & water – carefully peeling the ‘four symbols’ & Rainbow stickers (sadly not Bungo, Zippy & pals, Punk-kids, but something much sillier than that) from their guitars & drum kits – a considerably more integrity laden scene was sprouting across the water in ‘war-torn’ Ulster. Out on the streets of the UK’s most abused province (outright winner of the Oliver Cromwell Divide & Conquer Award for the 400th year running), Punk Rock meant a whole lot more to kids with a whole lot less to lose than many of their UK contemporaries.

The Ulster Punk scene rapidly developed into a celebration of unity: phlegm across the divide meant the poison & corruption of religion & it’s associated crime families were irrelevant factors to the young Punk Rockers of Northern Ireland. Catholic & Protestant Punks pogo-ed in unison, bibles were full of liable - & their religion was falling apart. Gloriously.

Most Ulster Punk groups didn’t want to sing about politics – they’d already had a lifetime of radical bullshit & dubious theorising – they were more concerned with the idea of a trouble free community & the prospect of having a good night out with the best music – without the logical conclusion of a visit to the local infirmary.

Sean O’Neill & Guy Trelford have captured the spirit of these heady days perfectly in their superbly realised history of Alternative Ulster: “It Makes You Want To Spit” (Reekus Publishing). Subtitled, “An Alternative Ulster 1977-1982” & “The Definitive Guide To Punk In N.Ireland”, “Spit” really does have all bases covered. Featuring a foreword by local boy made good, Stuart Ballie, the depth & breadth of “Spit” is truly breathtaking. In the author’s introduction, O’Neill & Trelford make the supremely valid point that Ulster Punk wasn’t just about Stiff Little Fingers, The Undertones & Good Vibrations Records - & then spend the next 250 odd pages proving exactly that: The Bankrobbers, Big Self, The Defects, The Detonators, Dick Tracy & The Green Disaster, Dogmatic Element, The Doubt, Hit Parade, The Idiots, The Moondogs, Moral Support, The Swear, The Outcasts, P45, The Peasants, Protex, Rabies, Rudi, The Sect, Stalag 17, The Starjets, The Tearjerkers, Toxic Waste, Victim & The Xdreamysts – to name but 25.

Record shops & fanzines played an invaluable part in forming a community that could look after itself: labels, venues & the means of production were soon demystified & established all over the front line of the scene. Alternative Ulster, No Fun, C.S.Control, Complete Control, Culture, Nine To Five, Private World, Follow The Crowd, So What & Laughing Gravy – were all fiercely independent self financed publications that kept the onus on ‘accessibility’ & directed their scorn at ‘the man’. Suddenly, it was ‘going on’ all over the province – it made a welcome change from ‘going off’.

“Spit” features notable contributions from a host of visitors to Ulster: Joe Strummer, Penny Rimbaud of Crass, Carol Clerk, Rat Scabies & John Peel, amongst others - & their insight is invaluable (Penny Rimbaud’s piece is especially thought-provoking) – but it’s the locals that really convince the reader of the importance of Punk Rock to Ulster - & their dedication, commitment & passion simply pour from their words.

“It Makes You Want To Spit” rightfully deserves its place alongside Mark P’s “Sniffin’ Glue” compendium, Fred & Judy Vermorel’s “Sex Pistols File” & Allan Metz’s “Blondie: From Punk To The Present” in the pantheon of indispensable volumes on Ye Olde Punk Rock. It paints a far more realistic portrait of the way we (they) were than any fancy Savage theorizing or bolted-on (second-hand) Situationist rhetoric.

Invest today & chase the bullshit away.

 

Book Review from – punkrocker.org.uk by Joe Donnelly Nov 2003

It's been seven years in the making and was it worth the wait? You bet it was! After approaching a number of publishers over the years and receiving a general lack of enthusiasm, Elvera Butler and the good people at Reekus stepped in and provided the resources and know how to make Sean and Guy's dream a reality. This is the chance for anyone who has read the stuff I've been writing about over the years, on various punk
sites and in various zines. And to those who think I'm sycophantic when it comes to the N.I punk scene of the late 70's/early 80's, which is nonsense anyway. It's a chance to see if I was talking crap or not! You might think that I theorise, glamorise, romanticise it all through my rose tinted sunglasses as it was all so long ago, (never! - Don't Care) which to a very
small extent may be true. Well here it is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, in print and in your hands straight from the horses mouth so to speak. Including the movers and shakers, the punks themselves.

So judge me! Was I telling porkies or being honest? Because 'It Makes You Want To Spit!' has arrived and it's a real heavyweight contender for one of the best punk books ever! It's everything the other heavyweight of this genre (Colgrave and Sullivan's coffee table 'Punk' book of a few years back) isn't! That (book) apparently was supposed to be the definitive last word on the subject, which strived and failed in mine and many others opinion, because of the authors fixation with London, elitism and being fashionable. Their publishers obviously didn't know the real deal was over the horizon, else they wouldn't have made such stupid claims. Everyone has a story concerning their time as punks, and not just the chosen few. I'm sure after the punk public read this, there will be more books of this type in the future. This is a real punk book, written by real punks for real punks or anyone else who wants to take a trip back and experience the punk glory years. This book is designed to be read,
not displayed as the latest trendy statement.

Back in the 70's N. Ireland was a down, dark and miserable place. Look at the photo's the punks with an average age of 15 to 18. They stood out a mile from all the other grey people. The subculture thrived in this environment. There probably has never been a more creative time than this for young people, who were inspired by punk to show their individuality through their dress sense, regardless of the risk involved to your health and the music they listened to. The after shocks still continue to this day. The whole punk lifestyle was embraced even though it was a dangerous choice.

I'm sure this was the story in your town also, and who wouldn't be delighted to have a history book like this charting the rise of punk rock through the eyes of the people that were actually involved in it. As well as contributions from members of some of the big punk bands that put aside their fears and doubts and  actually bothered to play here at the time, unlike punks own bleeding heart Jimmy Pursey who with Sham 69 was singing about 'Ulster Boy' without ever coming anywhere near the place! So you get genuine memories of their visits from amongst others, the likes of Paul Gray (Eddie + The Hot Rods), Rat Scabies (Damned), JJ Burnel (Stranglers). Plus the late Joe Strummer (Clash), who sent his piece shortly before his death last December. This is possibly one of the last pieces he wrote sadly.

There were no Svengali figures here lurking in the shadows directing everything. The kids were doing it for themselves. So don't say "what about Terri Hooley?", the scene was already up and running before he arrived, as he freely admits. The Authors Sean O'Neill and Guy Trelford have really grafted hard for seven years on this book, and there's blood, sweat, disappointment and joy on every page. The amount of info and memorabilia they have gathered on everything relating to N.I punk, from the well known bands etc., down to the most obscure characters is staggering! I know there were times as with any labour of love that it was all getting a bit much. Plenty of times when the boys felt like packing it in, but thankfully for all of us they persevered. Thanks lads for bringing back the memories and I'm glad you achieved your personal vision of what punk was all about. I loved the original fat zine version of this from around five years ago, which was produced under a very limited budget. I championed it at every opportunity but the step forward to this large tome is absolutely massive, so much so there is no comparison with the first edition. This book will make a lot of old punks very happy, as well as directing others to delve deeper into the N.I
punk story or go beyond SLF and the Undertones. There was so much more that never got a look in until now.

Along with all the hoopla surrounding the book, there is also a sense of sadness, as the book publication and the launch gig seem to put a big full stop on N.I Punk. Maybe there's really nowhere left to go after this, because it doesn't get any bigger or better than this book! But what a ride it was for anyone who was there at the time. Every aspect is covered here in detail. Punk was like a religion to the kids, and no-one even realised how special the scene here was. There are worse ways the N.I punk story could have ended. It could have easily just faded away through time and been forgotten but 'Spit!' will ensure it lives forever. The book costs a hefty £20  but you have to expect to pay for a quality publication like this. It comes with an eye melting electric pink card cover, and almost 300 packed pages! It's no flimsy throwaway paperback believe me, and it's nearly Christmas so you can use those unwanted book tokens you know your gonna get to buy it, and it's the perfect Christmas present. So get it on your wish list and let the kids see what mummy and daddy got up to once upon a time. 'It Makes You Want To Spit!' is essential reading for everyone who loves real music with a "fuck you!" attitude and an exciting tale to tell!