The exuberance of youth had gripped her for a few weeks now. Probably since her sixteenth birthday she’d felt a sort of invincibility that she’d never known before - a conviction that she could set the world alight. This new perspective led her to judge the other citizens of Boomtown with a sense of pity. They all seemed weighed down, lost with life – just shuffling through as if they were expecting something better at the end of it all. Sometimes she felt she could scream for them! Not her, she was going to live her life according to her own script. But she kept coming back to one thing that puzzled her - why didn’t they have any fire? Were their lives really so dull that there was nothing to smile about, to laugh about, to sing about?
She loved music…riding the New Wave like a champion surfer, her time was divided between playing records in her room or crate digging in Boomtown’s few record shops. But the real prize for her was live music - she wanted to hear it, to feel it, to live it….
It seemed like an ordinary Saturday night but she’d waited such a long time for this particular evening and in the build-up, she’d been working on a plan. For the last few hours she’d been in her room playing her records as normal and gazing out of her 11th floor window towards that part of Downtown where she knew it was all going to happen. She imagined she could see the multicoloured lights of clubland, rising above the city like a beacon, beckoning to her. As day fell to night, she’d reluctantly drawn the blind in exactly the same way she always did – but this was an important part of her preparations – a ruse to make her mum and dad think she was going to bed. She then began the arrangements she’d laid out with such care and precision…the clothes, the shoes, the make up. When at last she was ready – when she was truly satisfied that she looked the part - she slipped quietly out of the flat and into a new and even more heightened sense of freedom. For many people being out alone at night in Boomtown would strike fear, but not for her. This - and what she was sure would follow - was what she’d been craving for so long.
She walked quickly across town, the growing excitement seeming to lift her off her feet with every step. As she reached Downtown, she headed for the brightly lit neighbourhood she’d imagined earlier - to the streets where all the best clubs were. But tonight only the Moth Club would do - her favourite band were playing there and she needed to be a part of that.
In the scenes that had played out so many times in her mind, the pavement in front of the club had been empty, except for a red carpet, laid out just for her. The doors of the club had been wide open, ready to welcome her inside and sweep her to the stage were the members of the band were all waiting patiently, waiting to greet her by name before they started the gig, just for her. Sadly, reality was nothing like the scenes of her vivid imagination. As she reached the club, there was no red carpet, no open door, just a wet and grimy pavement. If it hadn’t been for the snaking queue of excited fans, she’d have thought she was in the wrong place. But no, this was the right place, some of the fans wore tank tops and others like her, had a pink feather boa draped over their shoulders.
She joined the back of the queue and although she still felt a little excitement, her mood was nowhere near as heightened as it had been only ten minutes before. But her lack of preparation for the reality outside the club was nothing compared to the disappointment that was about to hit her like a steam train. Eventually the doors of the club creaked open and the crowd started to shuffle in. But not her – when she reached the front of the queue, her way was blocked by the doorman – ‘too young’ was all he’d offered from beneath his gimp mask. Stunned, she staggered back a few steps and stood there motionless in the pouring rain for something, anything at all. She watched the entrance to the club with fixed eyes and an open mouth, as her favourite songs flowed outward like a warm embrace drawing all the other bright young things inside. She knew those songs so well, how could they stop her – this was her music. It was so unfair. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing her youthful exuberance could change.
After what seemed an eternity, she turned her back on the Moth Club and trudged back to her grey and anonymous neighbourhood, with its grey and anonymous blocks of flats – her mood the complete opposite of the bright lights and magic of the club scene she’d craved that night. But she knew that the fire that burned inside her would be dimmed only briefly, that she’d wake the next day and nothing would have changed. Thanks to her new perspective on life, things would seem better in the morning, she’d pick herself up and try again – she’d wait her turn.
Having just looked it up, the first of September 1985 I drove to Scunthorpe in a day and back from Suffolk. A car full of friends, excited by the prospect of a ‘free’ gig in a park with the BTR. Supported by The Pogues and a rock n roll band who looked fabulous in their drapes and drainpipe trousers - red I think was the predominant colour. I had that feeling of invincibility then.....the long journey doesn’t concern you, tiredness is something that comes later in life! The set list shows ‘Hurt Hurt’ was played. I love that song, a perfect live track. Happy days, free days, pre marriage and those wonderful thing called kids! I wonder if the band remember the gig (depends if you got caught in a round with the Pogues I suspect!!), or does in just become another gig on what was a mad year?
Maybe get round to that at some point.....problem is I have seven album's worth of material to work with (plus all the B sides). Actually a very nice problem to have 👍🐀
What about the night she did get in ?
💚🐁💚🐁💚🐁💚.... soooo good!!!