New Musical Express

18 August 1984

Historical context note:

1984 was a highly politicised time in Britain. The year-long miners strike began in March, polarising a nation and showing the Thatcher government’s determination to sweep aside trade unionism, local democracy, and pretty mucch anything that stood in the way of free-market capitalism. Irritated by the way urban voters always elected left-wing local government, the government simply abolished a number of the councils, including the hugely popular Greater London Council, centralising power to national government.

After this move was announced, the GLC put on a number of events to garner support, and this gig at Brixton’s Brockwell Park was one of them. It was addressed by GLC leader Ken Livingstone.

Seventeen years later when a new mayoral system was introduced to London, Livingstone’s Labour Party refused to have him as their candidate because he’d openly criticised the Labour government. He resigned from the party, stood as an independent and won by a landslide.

You can listen to and download the Strawberry Switchblade performance at Brockwell Park on the Live Recordings page, and read the Sounds review of the gig in the Press section.

KENSTOCK!

GLC FESTIVAL
Brixton Brockwell Park

Susan Williams and James Brown sock it to us…

GLC pics Tim Jarvis

The pop-bands are a sideshow – a distraction, maybe even a nuisance. The real biz is to find a patch of balding turf free of sputum, fag-ends and human debris. Once a base of operations has been established you squat defensively, scowling at the fanzine sellers, smiling at the nice policemen in a humbugging sort of manner and studying the multi-faceted peacock parade – the lumpen-proletariat at bay – that wanders, struts and slouches all round.

– SW

New Model Army strutted and garotted, the tight-nit red black white army, legs arms and logos, punched popped and slammed.

Those with room to move assumed the elbow-whacking stance of a poultry armed guard advancing on the Norfolk mansion of turkey-berk Bernard Maffews. It was the sight of pretty boy Justin and this vast pile of corporals chanting ‘I BELIEVE IN VENGEANCE’ and punks returning the boot and bashing the bastards that no doubt sent the groups of Fronters that had gathered back to their scummy kennels.

Only The Fall appeared detached from it all, Mark Smith refusing to slide into the cliched pose arrogant rock stars are supposed to fill. Brixe won the award for shirt of the day far surpassing any bastard Frankie offspring, ‘Frankie Goes To Hospital’ etc, with a vomiting riot of potted plants and melting spangles. There’s no point in telling you what they played like because you’ve been reading Fall reviews for years all saying how shit, brilliant, boring, genius they were, ‘Support your local Council – get the Gyppos out!’ deserved a thousand words but like I say, it’s all been sad before.

A fanzine stall where Anti Social Worker thug Tim Wells thrust a ‘Skins Against the Nazis’ leaflet into every passing skinhead’s fist, stall organiser Richard Kill Knotes Edwards displayed his talented breakdancing and over £120 was taken with profits to the miners was, along with Joolz, the only excitement seen before Susan Williams managed to shift her spotted arse into the Park…
– JB

Strawberry Switchblade blast delightfully melodic golden pop – so sweet, so deliciously syrupy – as the sun burst through the scudding clouds. Near the dozing monster’s head, hippy children prance and scream. The spawn of libertarian parents are the most evil creatures in existence. ‘That’s right, darling. Piss in the nice man’s face, I’m sure he won’t mind.’

Kirk Brandon is a political philosopher of such monumental ineptitude that he appears to have leapt straight from the warped corridors of Rik Mayall’s imagination. ‘This one’s for the miners who are fighting but not with too much bloodshed!’ Yes, you read that right! Despite some pretty f-hunky organ, Spear of Destiny failed to raise their heads from without their tight trousers. The smell must be awful! Shitting through the mouth must help a bit though.

Schedule leaflet for the GLC free concert, Brockwell Park, London, 4 August 1984

Benjamin Zephaniah bounced and ranted, ignoring the racist chanting of the minutely endowed mob at the front. The GLC sells racial harmony the same way Heinz sells beans. The prevalent ideas in any society are those of the ruling class and those ideas aren’t changed by billboards and buttons but through the struggles dot dot dot blither blather etc. How about a really hard hitting ‘Be nice to black people’ campaign. That’ll really untwist a few minds.

Our compere was the slightly tapped Doctor from the paisley-shirted Doctor and The Medics. Everything in his worldview is either ‘weird’ or ‘amazing’ and he does not take drugs. No doubt this is a great blessing to many worried parents when, on a Thursday night, he becomes a cub-scout master. I am not making this up.

The Damned plodded on. It pissed it down. I went home.
– SW