Today’s offering is a twofer (I've some to make up after missing a few last week.) Two musicians: both insanely prolific; both ploughing their own musical furrow regardless of the fickle vagaries of fashion; and both still going…
First up, Sarandon. Being a music fan who can’t play anything, I’ve always been slightly jealous of musicians. So it’s particularly annoying when you meet one who turns out to be a lovely bloke too. I met Crayola from Sarandon when I was unsuccessfully trying to sell the records on the label he worked for. Our high level strategic sales meetings consisted of a few pints at an unfashionable pub on the Portobello Road (yes, there were unfashionable pubs there once). The agenda was normally half an hour spent on work, followed by several hours spent reminiscing about how good bIG fLAME were (we were both at their farewell gig !). Since then we've been firm friends and I've been introduced to a world of fine music I might otherwise have missed.
If you’ve checked out John Robb’s book “Death To Trad Rock” (and you should) Sarandon feature heavily, as the last men standing of those angular, trebly, lurching bands from the mid-eighties. John Robb calls them post-post-punk, and arguably it was the last time ‘indie’ genuinely meant independent, not just in terms of 'attitude' or anything airy-fairy like that, but in terms of recording, distribution, gigs - an alternative network of like-minded people.
Anyway, enough of the waffle and on to the music - here they are at indietracks last year – German Disco!
No need to tell those who know about Billy Childish. The king of Garage, and owner of rock’s finest moustache.
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