26 Oct, 2007 November ’77
November ’77. It was precisely that month when our six month lark as Johnny And The Self Abusers finally came to a crashing and chaotic end following one last “justforthehellofit” set at Glasgow Art School. No one really remembers deciding why and when we would call it a halt, I guess somehow it felt that it was all just as it was meant to be. The band was formed on a whim after all, probably disbanded on one also. No thoughts of career building, no strategy and evidently no game plan.
It was a strange night for sure and without doubt there was more than a frisson of violence in the air, both in the venue and even up there on stage, as was the norm with JATSA shows. Of course sometimes the varying band members were so drunk or had stayed up for so many days on end that the most unpredictable things could happen. Some funny, some not.
Personally I was as guilty as anyone, and I will admit that for most of the time going on stage with JATSA felt like preparing for some kind of war. Thankfully by some miracIe I do not remember anyone actually getting injured. It was real life but something about those JATSA days gave me the feeling that it was all theatrical also. Which it kind of was I suppose, in the sense that we were no real band as such. Instead I would say that we spent those months doing a decent impersonation of how things should be inside the world of a Glasgow punk outfit. Method acting with music, let’s call it!
I was never sure what we were fighting for either to be honest, although often it was in a twisted kind of self-defence. Mostly however it was thru us having provoked audience outrage in the first place with one of our over the top antics or other. “Nothing that Iggy would not have done” we would plea afterwards, as we weaved our way through the back roads of the Scottish countryside – scavenging for any gigs that we could get. Praying for a late night chip shop to materialise. Praying to meet girls who would not act shy! Praying for the wildest kind of hair dye. Praying for a great song to come along and bless us. Praying for some hip – priest like guru – type to come along and discover us. Andy Warhol…maybe! Malcolm Maclaren…perhaps! OK then… Bruce Findlay! Even better!
In many places the audience just hated us on sight and seemed to feel the need to challenge or humiliate us on the account of hair, clothes and most of all our music. Or was it because one of us pissed right in front of them while on stage, or as often was the case perhaps one of us had managed to get their hands all over someone’s girlfriend. All plausible. But if so then they got off lightly…it could have been so much worse. Believe me!
I think I have some memory of those sort of things happening often enough. Or maybe even I cannot tell the difference now between reality and myth. Whatever! When the physical attacks happened we felt a strange surge of satisfaction as the fear took over and a different kind of adrenaline kicked in. It has to be said that in those days our philosophy was that any reaction is better than none whatsoever. Even if it gives you a busted lip and a few stitches here and there. It even felt quite the badge of honour for a night. Then it hurt and just felt plain stupid, which it was. And dangerous to boot!
And so to that last show. I do not recall any prior sentimentality, I do not recall any handshakes or last goodbyes. Yes, over the months between us we had much fun and some very real excitement through making a handful of really quite memorable performances as well as a double A side single. But again we had decided that it was over after six months and that this therefore had to be the last hurrah. I don’t even know that we were friends, although obviously I was close to Charlie Burchill, Tony Donald and Brian McGee. It was as though we just ended up in the same space together along with the other guys – and decided we would join forces on the grounds that we liked the same music and disliked the same things.
I can never explain why but all my memories of those days in Johnny And The self Abusers seem to be visualised in black and white with maybe the odd splash of red somewhere. Throw in some metal reflections, a bit of PVC, strobe lights, and of course banged up electric guitars. Horrendous hangovers and grubby apartments also feature a lot in those memories. Try thinking “Withnail & I”. Anyone who has seen that movie will have a great reference to what it was like to hang around with JATSA in those far off days.
Apart from the excitement and the corresponding bleak days of which there were many. Was it a crucially experience for me when it all boils down? Absolutely. Without the wildfire of the Abusers I am sure that I would never have mustered the courage to get up and perform, perhaps content to talk about it forever and finally rue the passing of my chance. How sad that would have been for me. For that reason alone then I will always value our time spent as Johnny And the Self Abusers and feel sure that without them there would be not be any evolving Simple Minds.
Jim Kerr