Despite a spate of venue closures over in 2011 or so, Brighton remains an essential fixture on the music and club circuit. But this is nothing new, so we chatted to some local faces for a timely reminder of the city’s rich pop-cultural heritage over the last half-century.
THE 1960s
I fell in love with rock’n’roll when I was 12. It was at the Essoldo on North Street (now Sports Direct) – Gene Vincent came out as the support act to Adam Faith, dressed all in black leather. He was just brilliant. There were loads of places to see live music back then, but it was mostly local bands in church halls and youth clubs. Bigger bands played the Hippodrome; the Stones and The Beatles – they had all the Merseybeat bands there as well. There was the Florida Rooms above the Sealife Centre; the High Numbers (who became The Who) were regulars there, and the original Concorde was next door. But until the Brighton Centre came along The Dome was the main big venue really; I saw Jimi Hendrix there and The Pink Floyd came back every year.
Brighton in the 60s did become like a mini San Francisco in the hippie era but really it was mostly about the mods and rockers. Quadrophenia did come close to how it was, but it kind of overplayed the violence a bit. There were riots of course but it was mostly more of an undercurrent. There were distinct mod and rocker areas and pubs; if you went into the wrong one in the wrong gear you knew you were in trouble. You just got out, quick. All the mods went to the Top Rank Suite (now the Odeon/Oceana) – it was a huge place back then with a revolving stage.
Brighton’s certainly very different now, especially the North Laine area. During the war you could pick up properties there for next to nothing and just hope they didn’t get bombed. Back then it was virtually a slum; a lot of it was condemned to demolition in the 60s so where a lot of the flats are now used to be old back streets, all flattened. It was all very working class; only Hove really had any wealth in the 60s. North Laine is totally unrecognisable now; the café culture, the Komedia and arts centres – it’s a fabulous place. It’s Brighton as it always wanted to be.
Allan Fowler worked in the print trade in the 60s. Today he consults for CD/DVD & Blu-ray manufacturing.
THE 1970s
There wasn’t an abundance of live music venues like there is now, but some certainly stick out. I remember speaking to Abba in the Metropole before they won the Eurovision at the Dome in 1974, I was with Leo Sayer in the audience that night. We saw this Swedish band band with their gaudy outfits and thought, “What are they?”, but when we heard ‘Waterloo’ it was obvious it would win. I actually discovered Leo Sayer in Brighton, and wrote and produced all his hits with him – I’d held auditions at the Pavilion in 1971 and he came along with his band.
I think the original Concorde was closed in the early 70s, but a lot of bands played at Sloopys [most recently Rialto]; all the foreign students went there. I saw Elton John and Pink Floyd at the Dome but like I say, there really weren’t that many venues – a lot of bands played at the university.
70s Brighton was very colourful – it was dressing up time, not just jeans and t-shirts. With Rod Stewart, Marc Bolan and David Bowie, it was a glamorous time with all the make-up, and Brighton had a lot of people looking like that. A lot of boutiques in Duke Street were reflecting all of that. We had a very vibey club in The King’s Club (now the Thistle Hotel) – a private members club, that was the place to go to. The Top Rank was there of course – I saw the Stiff Records tour there with Elvis Costello, Ian Dury, Mari Wilson; that was quite incredible. We also had the first influxes of foreign students – 22,000 a year. They were everywhere; Scandanavians, South Americans, Persians as they were called then – that was quite a vibe in itself.
I think Brighton’s retained the free spirit it had back then, it had something unique about it, a pioneering ground for people on various creative levels. From painters to musicians, it has a sort of San Francisco/Greenwich Village vibe to it. It was safer then though – you didn’t have the drug culture anything like you do now. And it looked a lot cleaner, but generally it’s never lost its vibe.
David Courtney was a record producer and songwriter in the 70s, a career he continues to this day.
THE 1980s
In the early 80s the underground music scene was mostly centred around The Basement (under the art college). I played records between the bands there; saw U2 on the ‘Boy’ tour, Killing Joke when they set fire to the ceiling… There weren’t many big venues then but we also had the Alhambra (now the Thistle Hotel), with local bands like The Midnight Lemon Boys and The Piranhas. The Pedestrian Arms (now The Foundry) put bands on but most people with funny hair were banned. The best, or worst, venue was The Crypt on Queens Road (now a homeless refuge). You went downstairs, literally into a crypt, and when the music got too loud the dead just fell out of the walls. Not too funny when you’re on acid listening to deafening punk or reggae and a skull lands by your feet.
Others I remember were Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV and Test Dept, who tried to get a digger in downstairs at the Escape (now Audio). Jenkinsons on the seafront (now the Odeon/Oceana) had bands like The Bunnymen and Teardrop Explodes, and I remember all the crews who followed bands like New Model Army and the Sisters Of Mercy around.
In the late 80s Brighton started getting spoilt. It was sordid and dangerous before but it had that excitement – things would kick off. Oddly, we’d get looked after by the football hooligans – they’d pick on idiots and out-of-towners but they’d stick up for us. Most of the shops were independent then – the North Laine was dark and cool, selling things you actually needed… It hasn’t got the same energy now; there are way more clubs and bars but then they were proper old fashioned boozers, like the Heart & Hand.
Acid house arrived at the Zap (now Digital) in 1987. No one else would touch it then, before it hit the headlines around 89 – it spoilt it when everyone else jumped on board. It was basically shitloads of ecstasy, a big community because of the nature of the music and the drugs. Tonka used to put the Happy Mondays on at the Zap and people would travel from all over the country, those parties were legendary.
The Perv was a postman and DJ in the 80s. These days he’s backstage manager at Concorde 2.
THE 1990s
I moved to Brighton in late 1989. What struck me most was the sheer number of clubs, the musical diversity on offer and how relatively easy it was to put on a club night. Most musical genres had flagship nights and if, like me, you were going out six nights a week, you could hear the best of all of them. From house to hip hop, jazzy to indie. Shake Yer Wig, Tonka, Mad For It and Mufflewuffle were all big midweek nights. But it was The Coco Club on Saturday nights at The Zap that had the biggest influence. The Zap was arts-funded at the time and that allowed it the rare luxury of keeping a selective door policy; they would rather a club half full of passionate clubbers than filling up with strays from West Street. It kept the atmosphere special and built up a very loyal following.
The early 90s saw dance music become more of a business; superstar DJs, club brands and exorbitant fees. Brighton operated under the radar of the ever-growing dance music media – we were seen as a slightly grubby but charming seaside town. A sense prevailed that if you wanted to be successful in music or arts you had to move to London.
In 1993 I got a job with Loaded Records, pretty much the town’s only record label at the time. In 1995 they let me start up Skint as an offshoot and Fatboy Slim was born. We started The Big Beat Boutique in 1996 at the original Concorde. It was a Scout hut with a bar and suited us perfectly. Norman and I were the main residents – we built up a regular crowd who trusted us and indulged us, which, as a DJ, is a dream. Pretty soon it was packed, being written about and people even came down from that London. Brighton became, for better or for worse, the spiritual home of big beat.
I find it difficult to talk about the influence Skint had on Brighton; I think a lot was down to timing. Equipment was cheaper and more accessible and it allowed people, influenced by Brighton’s diverse club culture the opportunity to make records. I also think there was an element of “Well if that lazy fucker can start a label, then so can I.”
In the 90s Damian Harris ran Skint Records and recorded as Midfield General, today he’s a writer and music producer.
THE 2000s
The 90s had a very strong musical identity in Brighton, but the first decade of the 21st century was when music exploded across the board. The Strokes – who would come to be the biggest influence of the decade – played at The Lift (now The Hope), and bands were back. There were an estimated 900 bands in the city by the end of the decade. Obviously The Maccabees, The Kooks and Bat For Lashes have gone on to great things, while Metronomy and Foals made records here and moved on to London. Brighton Live and The Great Escape (which arrived in 2006) gave us excellent inner city festivals.
But dance music was still really strong for much of the noughties. Despite 250,000 people turning up for Fatboy Slim’s second seafront gig in 2002, big beat gave way to chillout and jazz-influenced downtempo, with Tru Thoughts leading the way, starting 2000 with Brighton boy Bonobo’s ‘Animal Magic’ and our own Quantic – both of whom DJed at classic midweek night Phonic:Hoop at The Enigma (now The Loft). Midweek clubs were where all the most interesting dance music was heard, not least in the shape of Supercharged, frequently voted the best breaks night in the country, and ace party night Gogglez. Progressive house had a good go at turning dancing into low-impact aerobics as everyone zoned out at nights like John Digweed’s Bedrock. Then Felix Da Housecat introduced electroclash to a handful of people at the Ocean Rooms and clubbing became fun. It was our Sex Pistols at The Manchester Free Trade Hall moment.
The government gave us what we thought we wanted in 2005 – late pub serving and clubs that stayed open all night – and for years it was a disaster. Rather than three or four hours of intense madness, people arrived late and nights limped to an end as people got too tired or came down/sobered up. Throw in the smoking ban and dancefloors emptied out for years. The second part of the decade wasn’t a classic clubbing era, but it’s recovered now. Brighton’s every bit as good as it’s ever been – I’m looking forward to the good times to come.
James Kendall wrote for DJ Magazine during the 2000s before becoming editor of SOURCE.
Photos (top to bottom)
The Lanes in the 1965
Jimi Hendrix at the Dome 1967
ABBA winning Eurovision at the Dome in 1974
Compilation of Zap flyers from the early days of house music
Fatboy Slim at the last ever Big Beat Boutique at the original Concorde, 1999
The Maccabees at the Corn Exchange for The Great Escape, 2009
Words by David Courtney, Allan Fowler, Damian Harris, James Kendall and The Perv