The Screaming Target returns from their hiatus of reviewing albums, to write about the now legendary Birthday Party gig at the Warehouse club.
The Birthday Party
27th March 1982
Liverpool / The Warehouse
This is an occasional series that highlights Liverpool’s cultural life in the past. A kind of revision of history, or at least one that’s not being handed down.
As of late, Liverpool’s Musical history has been a deep resource to reshape the past for certain members of the rose coloured glasses brigade.
In this instance I could be accused of the same with this review. That of venerating the Past rather than looking at the present time here in Liverpool.
“If it’s old, it’s gold.” So went the mantra of the art establishment in South Africa. As they desperately tried to brush away the Historical legacy of apartheid This mantra Became the base in which it attempted to avoid its recent Past.
Let’s not talk about apartheid. The older the artwork, the easier it was to navigate themselves around years of repression.
Similar to Liverpool then, the years of economic decline are now conveniently forgotten as the City’s cultural cache slips into overdrive.
Judging from a talk I witnessed quite recently. The music industry in Liverpool appears to have begun to wallow in pure nostalgia.
Worryingly, they are recreating the past. Seeing those involved, mostly their friends whose original situation was one of extreme privilege and nepotism
And now in a magical sleight of hand, these then become a series of heroic gestures. And by that process carefully sidestepping any issues on class war or social disintegration.
Liverpool was for me a young culture vulture, a treasure trove of delights. And it was available to everyone, not just an elite. The warehouse being one of those treasure troves, which has until recently been overlooked in the history of Liverpool music.
I think what this series highlights is the rich cultural vein that existed in what was literally the debris of the Thatcher years between 1980 and 1982.
Liverpool was on the point of or driven to economic collapse. Yet its cultural base was flourishing. It seems as the city becomes richer its cultural base diminishes. Is that the price for progress, I don’t know.
They are selective. ( whoever they may be ) As to what part of its history is displayed. Is that a worthwhile price for progress.? History so far has been selective.
“The Birthday Party notes on a strange gig”
My recollection of events is quite vague. I had just brought the Birthday Party single “Release the Bats”. And from that moment on, it was the Birthday Party all the way.
And so, driven by the desire to see the band in the flesh so to speak I headed off to the bleak waste that is Liverpool in 1982.
According to archive records which are now available for the gig, It was supposedly March, but As I recall it was a very cold March indeed. Winter seemed to be hanging on forever, or maybe it just felt that way.
During those deep winter months. What seemed like a ton of snow had fallen on the ground, picturesque, but deadly at the time.
As a youthful fledgling photographer, I had no fear of snow. Or, what might befall me on the roads and frozen pathways. As I brazenly attempted some arty shots of the dog on the local playing field.
My only concern was the wide expanse of white, stretching out in front of me. With the dog being the only point of interest, in this world of white.
I can also remember having a really bad cold at the time and feeling quite rough. I had, rather Selfishly, managed to Pass it to my girlfriend at the time.
Well, you did things like that then, in those wonderful pre covid days. “oh you’ve got a right snorter haven’t you?” She said, as I proceeded to kiss her.
She was a complete trooper, as there appeared no feelings of escape or revulsion, things were different back then.
So you’re asking, what has this got to do with a Birthday Party gig in 1982 ? It is all About determination, dear friends. To do whatever is needed. And so, cold or no cold. I was off to see the band.
I recall having to go on my own. As by this time, the girlfriend was down with the cold, and all my friends had passed on the offer of the birthday party. As with most gigs if I hadn’t gone on my own then I would never have ( bad English).
So on this freezing night with a cold I stood in the warehouse. The venue was brilliant. From what I can recall it was all painted black and had the general seedy vibe of a New York loft space.
According to my friend who was also in attendance that night it had seemed not that full alternatively, I thought it was quite full. Or full enuff.
I think at this point the Birthday Party was beginning to gather a fan base. Well, the freak contingent was definitely here tonight. But once again, the facts are hazy, as to what exactly happened. When and how.
It all started strangely, as the Band, appearing from wherever, sauntered onto stage and began to play.
According to the set list which has now been made available. They started with Dead Joe, a great opener, but to be honest I can’t remember an exact set of songs.
Having seen them in Brighton the year after, this was on all accounts a subdued performance but still interesting nonetheless.
I noticed that Tracey Pew had been replaced with Barry Adamson, sheepishly joining in with the choruses. That said though, he seemed to fit in well. And, if you didn’t know, you would never have guessed, he’d just been drawn in to play.
In time he became a Bad Seed, and his playing would be pivotal to the sound of the group.
But from judging the performance in Brighton, it was Pew who would galvanise the band into action, with his dark doomy bass lines, coming from a strange place indeed
Meanwhile on stage Nick was living up to his reputation as Nick the Stripper, by removing the countless hand me down type jumpers he was wearing.
These were Probably de rigueur outfits, for frozen Australians, forced to come to the Northern wastes, like musical missionaries to play for the unwashed masses. Well, something like that anyway.
This act of the removal of clothing, seemed to be an indicator that the band was literally warming up. Especially Nick, who was now into his screaming act at the front of the stage.
As I edged closer to get a better look, I noticed this really crazy guy dancing wildly, he seemed completely off his head on drugs or something.
As the band became more intense, the action at the front also increased. I noticed Nick glancing at Roland Howard with a concerned look.
I thought to myself well guys, you’re throwing out these violent images in the music. Now you’re getting scared. As the band now seemed to be getting the violence back in Bucketfuls.
One thinks that perhaps, they did not have the sense to figure out Liverpool, at this point in the Eighties was a very violent city. And, throwing out these Violent images in the lyrics and music, is like lighting up a fag in a firework factory.
So no surprise then, as stuff begins to build up in not a good way..
The crazy dancer was now getting well out of hand. I had sensed there was some tension arising from his presence, and moved back from the front of the stage.
His warped persona was beginning to create aggravation in the crowd. what might work in a bar in Australia doesn’t always go down well in Liverpool.
To avoid more hassle the owners promptly threw him out the club. Into the freezing night. His untimely dispersal was soundtracked by cries of Stooge from the rest of the audience.
Was he a stooge, planted by the band? who knows. But anyway, as he was consigned to his frozen fate, we all heaved a collective sigh of relief
The band then stopped playing, as Nick announced over the microphone “we are not playing until that Man is returned to the club”. What a farce it was turning out to be. A pity really, as the band were at this point beginning to warm up.
The band then duly sauntered off stage. A search party was formed, to try to find him, and drag him back into the club.
According to someone I spoke to later, he had completely disappeared. They were expecting to find him outside. It actually took a while to find him. Of course in the end they found him, wherever he was. And dragged him back in.
Once back in he was like Tigger, jumping around and appearing no worse for his frozen sojourn outside.
Once the crazy dancer had resumed his place at the front of the stage. The group returned to finish the set. I can’t remember the rest, as it was all becoming a blur really as the cold closed in on me.
Postscript :
On reflection, I could describe the gig as an experience. It was worth it after all. Having dragged myself to the venue.
Which is through the mists of time, becoming legendary. I also got to see Phil Calvert, the original drummer, worth the admission at least.
Thinking back then, I thought the gig was good, but not marvellous. I much preferred the Brighton gig. where I thought they were awesome. But all things considered. an interesting footnote in Liverpool music history.
After doing some research on the gig. It appears that the crazy dancer was indeed with the band a follower or a ligger, at least.
He goes by the name Bingo, it sounds better if you pronounce it in an australian accent Ben -Go. He crops up in a video of Nick Cave’s first version of The Bad Seeds. Nick Cave and the Cavemen. The band he and Mick Harvey put together after the birthday party split.
Cave appears to be reprimanding him for something “Alright Bingo that’s you off the backstage pass list” while somebody else is saying “shaddup Bingo”
So Bingo once again being a pest. One thinks, though, who is this Bingo character. And is he still alive? Should he write a book, Bingos adventures with The Birthday Party an interesting alternative perspective on the group.
For those of you who are now gagging at the prospect of a live Birthday Party recording. And wish to hear the Tapes of the gig”s in 82 ( they did two ) They are now available on you tube for you to peruse at leisure.