NEARLY 30 years ago, two teenage punk rockers germinated an idea in one of their bedrooms in the historic but sleepy Scots town of Dunfermline. That musical idea was taken in to what passed for a rehearsal room behind the local High School and, with input from the two other band members, thrashed out into a song that would be added to their band's increasingly impressive body of work.
On September 25th 2006, the two biggest rock acts on the planet — U2 and Green Day —resurrected and unveiled that same song to a crowd of 70,000 in the newly re-opened New Orleans Superdome and a global Internet audience of millions.
The Saints Are Coming ... punk fairy tales don't come any bigger ...
It's a measure of the esteem in which I hold people who altered the course of my life that I can tell you the day and place we first met.
As life-changing experiences go, meeting two safety pin and leather bedecked punks backstage in a beer cellar-cum-dressing room at Edinburgh's Clouds after a gig by Lanarkshire's finest mod exponents The Jolt might seem somewhat underwhelming.
Nonetheless, it was here—July 15'", 1977—that I first encountered Richard Jobson and Stuart Adamson.
That night, they were brash and brusque— fuelled by the "can-do" zeitgeist that
this thing called punk bestowed. Their bravado.was infectious rather than intimidating. They wanted to support The Jolt and soon.
Of course, in the midst of punk's DIY frenzy, everyone seemed to be forming a band. However, these two were different. They had their eyes on the prize and in those eyes you could see the drive and passion that would be instrumental in getting their visceral musical message out into the world.
Shortly after, Jobson and Adamson, now joined by the redoubtable rhythm section of Bill Simpson and Tam Kellichan, set about their task. In keeping with the times the band adopted daft names. Thu: Joey Jolson (Jobson), Stevie Cologne (Adamson), Alex Plode (Simpson) and Tom Bomb (Kellichan), after dropping the ridiculous moniker of Marcus Zen Stars With Tom Bomb & The Martyrs Of Deal emerged fully formed as The Skids. One live appearance (opening for The Buzzcocks and Prefects in Edinburgh in November 1977) and a listen to their first demo tape was enough to be convinced of their transformative, life-affirming qualities.
As a live band, The Skids encapsulated— and were the soundtrack to—the fact that we were living at the start of something very good and at the end of many things that were bad.
As Richard states in his sleeve-notes on The Skids' live album, Masquerade, Masquerade: "For me it was what we were all about, the rush, the energy, the audience, the sound of Stuart Adamson's guitar and the two of us flying through the air on stage passing each other mid-flight, smiling with joy."
The band clearly revelled in their live abilities. A typical live set of late 1977 and early 1978 would feature the debut single's Charles, Reasons and Test-Tube Babies as well as New Daze, an ambitious three-part song called which veered dangerously close to psychedelia. Songs like Nationwide, Zit and London offered consummate and the by now trademark anthemic riffing. (For decades, these songs could only be found on home-recordings of early John Peel sessions. The good folks at Virgin are currently working on making these gems more widely available).
You could always depend on the band to drop in an inspired cover version to keep things interesting. Mott The Hoople's Violence, Garland Jeffrey's 35 Millimetre Dreams and even Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich's You Make It Move all took a robust assault from the four Fifers. Stuart could also be counted on to offer up snatches of songs by his beloved Be-Bop Deluxe and Nils Lofgren during sound checks. While The Skids were an assault on the senses replete with a tune that would burrow into your sensibilities, their maelstrom of manic energy was clearly built on a bedrock of great musical knowledge and taste.
Lyrically, Jobson was like a puppy with a bone, playing with word and found text in an always-intriguing manner. He was a writer who could craft poetic crescendos that perfectly complemented their epic musical backdrop. He was also, I would suggest, one of punk's greatest front men— a mad kung-fu ceilidh dancer and a perfect foil to his scissor-kicking guitar buddy.
The sonic and lyrical attack of songs like Into The Valley and Working For The Yankee Dollar showed that home-grown Scots talent could compete with the best that London, Manchester and New York had to offer. In many cases, The Skids would eclipse through art that offered greater depth, more vigour and no little pride.
As word of mouth and media exposure grew, The Skids influence was reaching furth of the band's native land. In Dublin's Malahide area a teenage David Howell Evans had picked up on the band.
Stuart's sterling work on his beloved Gibson Marauder guitar (the cheapest model available in the range) chimed with young Evans. The Skids' lyrical content also resonated with the guitarist who would become better known as The Edge in the band he was forming with three former school mates.
That The Skids' first three singles (Charles, Sweet Suburbia and the magnificent Wide Open EP—which featured The Saints Are Coming and included Of One Skin and Night And Day) influenced the evolving U2 is self-evident. These three releases during 1978 set a template that U2 would adapt and modify en route to the low-key September 1979 Irish release of their Out Of Control ER.
A full 28 years later, while looking for an anthem to launch Music Rising — a charity to help rebuild the musical heart and culture of the Gulf Region by replacing the musical instruments lost during Hurricane Katrina—The Edge remembered a red vinyl 12-inch EP from his record collection. As The Edge states: "When the idea of playing at The Superdome re-opening came up I immediately thought of The Saints Are Coming. It could have been written for the occasion ... the lyric fits so well it's almost eerier
The Edge would also later tell Jobson: "Good work never dies. It just goes to sleep for a while until somebody wakes it up."
In later years it became clear that both Richard and Stuart were unaware of the profound influence they had bequeathed to a generation of young Scots. However, the spectacle of a Scottish band successfully planting a flag on Summit Punk was to have an immeasurable impact on countless fans who went on to form their own bands, their own labels, start fanzines and follow media careers.
Latterly, that influence and inspiration would also be apparent and more widely visible and audible in the music of the likes of Echo & The Bunnymen, The Cult and Blur to name but three.
Tragically, Stuart is not around to savour the living legacy of his work. As a musician's musician he would have been quietly delighted by recent events.
When Bono Vox— "only the world's biggest fucking rock star mind" you can almost hear one of those teenage Skids saying—strolled onto the stage of the Superdome and offered up the vocal incantation "Cried to my daddy on the telephone, how long now'?" it was more than a brilliant spine-tingling rock moment. Here was final and fitting recognition of the fact The Skids were something truly special and were deservedly reaching a worldwide constituency while gaining the respect their work should have been accorded long before.
It could be said that we look back on the music we grew up with as special only because we were there. U2 and Green Day—here and now, onstage and on record, pouring new life and raw emotion into the song that saw it's birth in that dingy rehearsal room in Dunfermline— prove conclusively just how special The Skids music was and still is.
The Saints Are Coming ... punk fairy tales don't come any better ...
RONNIE GURR |