Venues in Hammersmith c. 1978-81

This entry follows a discussion on social media of the sad demise of the Clarendon Hotel in Hammersmith, where I played many gigs in the Basement Bar with Auntie & The Men From Uncle c.1980-83, including a Monday night residency with my pals The Satellites, where we alternated as the headline band. A few days ago I came across a photo in my scrapbook of one of these nights, at which some over-zealous Satellites fans had debagged me. 

This also occurred at another venue in the locality, The Kensington in Russell Gardens where, the following week I believe, I saw The Stray Cats at their first ever London gig, when they were sleeping on Keith Altham - The Rolling Stones’ PR man, inter al. - 's floor, and yet to have a record contract. The debagging at The Satellites gig was when they were supported by a one off outfit, later to morph into The Blubbery Hellbellies, featuring four bulky boys, namely Arturo Bassick, who went on to form and run said Blubs, Derek Gibbs, The Satellites’ singer - aka Dr. Strangelove -'s dad Big Del, Pete Haynes (Manic Esso from The Lurkers), and Johnny Pi R 2, The Satellites’ bassist. They played a selection of humorously rewritten punk classics, such as ‘Curry Up Harry’ and ‘No Buns’. It was the first night I’d had a home for months, as I’d that day moved in with my friend Mick O’Dwyer, known locally as Weird Flex, on what Derek Gibbs refers to as the Acto-Chizz border disputed, or yards from where W4 becomes W3, or the other way round, if you’re coming from Acton, of course. It was only a camp bed in a room that also contained a five string banjo which I tried unsuccessfully to master, various motorcycle parts, and Mick’s own single bed, but it had a landline, quite an important thing in those days, both for people on the lower rungs of show business and part time heroin dealers, both of which I was. Anyway, such stability being a not inconsiderable achievement, I thought it rude not to drink a gallon of lager to celebrate. 

Hammersmith venues also included the teddy boy stronghold The George, where in the punk-ted wars Derek Gibbs was brutally jumped upon. Moving down King Street, we come toThe Salutation, which I think is still extant as a ghastly overpriced gastro pub. My long time friend and musical colleague of over fifty years, Robin Bibi - also an original Blubbery Hellbelly, despite being of slender build, as they needed an exception to prove the rule, plus he’s bloody fantastic on the guitar - used to play there with an Irish Country band called Pat & The Lamplighters, lovely warm hard drinking Irishmen, who had a Sunday night residency there. I went with him once for something to do, and was sitting there at the bar listening to the band and minding my own business, when the IRA bucket came round. Luckily I realised what it was, and luckier still I had some money to put in it. 

The Swan which was on Hammersmith roundabout by the Metropolitan line tube station, is still a pub by another name - I know that because I’ve ‘watered the horse’ in there a couple of times in recent years - where Robin also used to play regularly a couple of years earlier in a great funk band called Panties. The two singers in Panties, one of whom was Robin's then girlfriend Kim, whose dad was a famous British jazz sax player, and Maz, who went out with the Panties drummer, an ex-member of NYJO whose day, or rather night, job was playing in the house band at the Savoy Hotel, went on to be Paul Young's backing singers, The Fabulous Wealthy Tarts. I was there watching them once on a weekday evening with my pal Adam Cox, a man the size of my dear friend Arturo Bassick/Arthur Billingsley, i.e. six foot two, eyes of blue, and eighteen stone, who at that time had his blonde hair cropped and dyed pink and blue, and was dressed entirely in black leather, when the chap I had hit on the head with an R. White's lemonade bottle at public school, André Golay - after not inconsiderable provocation, I might add - leading to my expulsion from said school, walked in - he’d come as he had maintained contact with Robin and I think they’d written some songs together - but on glancing round and seeing first me, then Adam, swiftly egressed. The other guitarist in that band was a man named Pete Flaskett, who had a day job in Roka's guitar shop in Denmark Street, and who was not only a great player, but an hilariously funny man. The bass player in Panties was a good looking, smooth talking, top player called Sam Harley, who was in the rag trade by day and had a stall in St. John’s Wood market. He went on to be in The Lucky Saddles with both Robin and Arthur, inappropriately named after what chaps on building sites shout after beautiful girls on bicycles. I say inappropriately as everyone thought they were a country band, lots of people didn’t know the saying anyway, and they played Arthur’s beautiful, but quite weighty in content, home compositions. I managed this great outfit for a few months in 1981 but that, as they say, is another story.