Back then, in 1981, nobody used to venture far up the Essex Rd, unless you had to.
It was on the route of the hop on, hop off 73, on its way to leafy but then rather run down Stoke Newington before it became desirably bijou. Half way along it passed the Islington library, where the lovers Orton and Halliwell had nicked books and cheekily, sometimes erotically, altered the covers before replacing them on the library shelves, back in 1962, for which they received a six month jail sentence when discovered, which seemed excessive both then and now.
I had gotten involved with a newspaper called Gay Noise. Very leftist leanings, Gaz and I had kind of stumbled into it by default. Its logo: Marx and Engels arm in arm; even then it seemed improbable. Two magazines had folded in 1980, Gay Socialist & a Marxist publication called Gay Left, which had explored notions of gay political theory and Gay Noise really started in the autumn of 1980 to try and maintain the impetus, focusing itself more on activism, big at the time. We thought it was 5 new pence well spent (later, as needs must, it rose to 30p), every fortnight. In some ways it mirrored the later development of radical groups that developed from the community anger generated by the AIDS crisis, like Gay Men Fighting AIDS (GMFA). One early cover story, featured the arrest of two gay men, Paud Hegarty (an Icebreaker collective member, later to go on to manage Gays the Word from 1983-1997 and who sadly died of pneumonia in 2000) and Gareth Thomas who had been arrested and charged with ‘Insulting Behaviour’ after kissing each other goodbye at the end of a demonstration against the movie ‘Cruising’. It always ran with a pithy headline: ‘Insulting Behaviour’?, issue 2 declared, in a large bold typeface, ‘they ain’t seen nothing yet’!
We were both activists as well I suppose, so had some kudos there but we carried other cards up our sleeves. We were both heavily into the ‘new wave’ of music prevalent at that time and wanted to write reviews of gigs (Gaz more than and better than me, truth be told). I think we had to write a couple and then read them out to get a collective hands up. Soon we were having benefits at the Hemmy, ULU (University of London Union) Gay Soc, bands were doing benefit gigs for us and pennies were going into collecting boxes in pubs. However, after a while the mood of the collective, led by Don Milligan, was changing. Don Milligan (now Dr Don Milligan) is still active in 2020 and recently taught a course on the theory and practice of anti-capitalism at Manchester Metropolitan University and, to his credit, is also still writing as fervently as ever about Marxism, in his blog ‘Off the Cuff’ also producing a useful summary here too of his writing in the past four decades about various elements making up the history of gay liberation, with very much an anti-capitalist bent to it (see ‘A brief moment in turbulent times’, Sept 2019)
Back to the Gay Noise collective though and debts were fast accruing from print costs and the feeling was that a regular newspaper couldn’t be justified anymore. I wrote an open letter to the collective, with another Scottish member of it, called Alan Reid, with whom I had been having an on/off affair with at the time, of which I still have a copy. Alan was particularly indignant that the paper should cease.
‘If Gay Noise disappears’ we wrote, ‘it will just be another failure’ (I think here we were particularly thinking of the demise of the other left wing publications in the recent past)
‘and by its disappearance will just give credence to those in the gay community and those outside of it who do not believe that such ventures can be successful. Society considers gay people to be failures, do we want to reinforce those attitudes? We have had articles about us in Gay News, we can get coverage in Time Out and NME (the New Musical Express). It’s the best publicity we’ve had and we should use it to best advantage. We should print the paper ourselves or work through a printer discharging our debts through fundraising and keeping a much tighter control over our production costs. Gay Noises’ continuity is vital!’
Many in the collective wanted to be involved in political action only but we felt it needed a regular newspaper to hold it together, which the irregular publication of leaflets wouldn’t fulfil.
‘Last but not least’ we continued,’ we have an obligation to our subscribers , we do operate as a link line between some very isolated gay people, who share our political concerns and commitments’.
Fine words but, as the saying goes, they buttered no parsnips; the writing was on the wall and it wouldn’t be the first or the last time that radical gay collectives or organisations broke up in acrimony. Of course, Gay Noise all ended in tears eventually (further political infighting: there’s a surprise – one of the original group, Shane Enright, writing later, noted how ‘a splinter group, the ‘Revolutionary Gay Men’s Caucus’ which Don Milligan was involved in for a time, ‘wandered off into a misogynistic wilderness’).
Every issue of ‘Gay Noise’ here https://www.revoltinggays.com/gay-noise
However, two very good things to come out of it were Berni and Martin, gay boys from Manchester and Plymouth, with a flat at that time in Archway. They arrived in London from Plymouth on May Day in 1980. They had been involved in local gay and anti-Nazi activism movements there but also shared a common love of music of all kinds from growing up in the 1960´s and 1970´s. From Motown to the Doors, Black Sabbath to Bowie, Roxy Music to the Velvet Underground and punk. They spun the music we liked, under the banner ‘Movements‘ (see what they did there..?) although I do believe they were SWP stalwarts (SWP being the Socialist Workers Party) and so technically ‘socialist sinners’ in Gay Noise’s radical marxist eyes. But maybe they had swopped religions –people tried out new political mantra like new boyfriends then. Actually I have since checked this with Berni and I was right, they were indeed SWP for a while!
Anyway, they had played one off benefits already, at the Hemmy, during December 1980 (I’d been to one just before Christmas on December 18th, which was really good and then to a party at their place in Archway the night after, getting to know them better) and others too, early in 1981. However, it was agreed that a more regular venue would help benefit ‘Gay Noise’, as it was fast running out of money. It took a while to find and set up but eventually Berni & Martin reported they had found a potential venue. Of course, it had to be a bit different to the naughty, capitalist, commercial gay scene. So new wave was acceptable to our Marxist brethren. And it was to be at a place called the Carved Red Lion on the Essex Road in Islington. I’d volunteered to be on the door, taking the money on the opening night, Saturday April 18th 1981, and so we started leafleting for our little ‘alternative gay disco’.
In some ways I suppose, it was like a gay version of Cabaret Futura, that I’d been frequenting the year before but much more earthy and quite racy. The first night came and when I arrived at the venue, it was clear that we had left out an important word in our publicity; namely basement. It also appeared that whilst Jimmy Somerville and I would be fine, anyone over 6ft was going to need to stoop or crawl and clearly stilettos were completely out of the question. It was –ahem- a cosy venue but I had to concede it had its charms. A good solid floor, plenty of dark corners and a decent, if small bar.
So, on that first night, we had no idea if our little alternative disco would work. Did lesbians want to dance to the Au Pairs? Would gay men be tempted away from Heaven’s box of delights in central Charing Cross? This was no new, romantic Blitz club in Soho. North Islington was actually rough then, trust me.
We opened the doors at nine sharp, as advertised. The music was playing, the lights (or in retrospect, probably light) were flashing: we were ready! But no one came down the stairs, eager to dance. In fact, no one came down even eager to drink, talk or fuck. It’s early, I said to the others. Who goes out at 9pm on a Saturday to a club? We waited a bit, and a bit longer. I was getting a bit anxious. About 9.30, two faces appeared at the top of the stairs at street level. Slightly suspicious. A bit worried. You always were then when you went to a new gay place. As if you might be ambushed, beaten up and gang banged by drag queens on the door. ‘Is this Movements- the gay place’? We nodded. Down they came. Paid their one pound. And trooped in, heads held as high as was feasible.
Photo courtesy Bernie Hodson
And they never stopped coming after that. By ten, we had a queue out into the street to get in. Lots of faces: some I knew, some I wanted to know but plenty I had never seen in my life. Alternative lesbian and gay London had come out to play. Lesbians with their long scarves, big pullovers, dungarees. The gay boys wearing a lot, lot less. Black DM’s, black army jackets, badges, faded, ripped 501’s. Lots of bleached quiffs, short shaven sides and little caps. It was more or less compulsory to bleach your hair in those days, at least for a time. A rite of passage. Anyway, they were all right up my street!
Two hundred went in and no one came straight back out. Two hundred quid went into the till… maybe more, as some people gave larger donations I recall. Maybe we didn’t have a till, probably a tin, I can’t remember. I do remember thinking though, that we had ourselves a success! It got as hot as hell in there, in fact as black & noisy as hell but by god it was good. Almost like Traffic in fact but better music, more mixed and hotter (in fact wearing leather in there was just about impossible, especially in summer, though I don’t think we generally wore leather then anyway, as leather was a bit retro dahling by then for that particular scene, (although even as I am writing this I can already think of two or three people I knew who always wore leather and always looked damned cool in it: yes, you know who you were). I think the scene actually got quite segregated & tribal for a while. It’s hard to imagine now, that we had never danced in a gay & lesbian club to ‘our music’: the Specials, the Associates, Simple Minds, Orange Juice before, in a lesbian and gay crowd. This was something we could theoretically have done anywhere- in a non gay venue.
However, I suppose it must have been the same when the Mods went to mod clubs first: their tribe, their music, that sense of complete unity, that you could talk to anyone new, dance with anyone, perhaps it was like everyone felt at the first raves when ‘e’ was about -but this wasn’t really drug fuelled. Ok, a little speed was snorted, a few joints smoked I suppose but it wasn’t off your face clubbing. I think the adrenaline high itself was enough.
The third night Saturday May 2nd was not a good one, as there was an invasion by skinheads and the police had to be called. At one stage it seemed like things might fall apart but no, the next week May 9th, it opened its doors as usual and people still turned up. By the 16th it was even being allowed an extension until the wee small hours. Well, 12.30 at night. After Gay Noise folded, the music happily went on. For around two years Andy Alty ran Movements with a group called Gay Workshops. He recollects these as being great nights with Berni and Martin still on the decks, and that he discovered so much new music through listening to their sets. And that was the beginning of a long chain of ‘alt gay’ venues.
And talking of the gay press or ´gapers´ as we came to call them, that year another institution was to launch itself onto the capital. A weekly freesheet called Capital Gay, managed by the genial Graham McKerrow and distributed to gay venues and other welcoming places, hot off the press, late every Thursday. It was to last 14 years in the end and it was a sad day when the last issue rolled off the press in mid 1995. It was the very first publication in the world to use the term ´HIV´. But in 1981, that particular term and its ramifications was still all a relatively long way away.
And what became of DJ´s Berni and Martin? Well, they kinda hung around! And we will see more of them later. In the meantime warmest congrats on 45 years together guys! Though Movements at the Carved Red Lion closed in May 1982, it was to continue at the Pied Bull in Islington High St, the infamous Bell in Kings Cross and a string of copy cats that were to go on to hold our attention, as the eighties progressed. Imitation is indeed the very best form of flattery.
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