1975/6: John Peel & the London Punk Scene
Out with the old, in with the new?
Picture the scene: eight or so students on the floor of a student flat in central London passing spliffs one way and various forms of fermented vegetable products the other. Beer was essential to take away the dryness of the joint and the joint was essential to take away the wetness of the beer. Or at least, that was the stoned-out logic dawning on us each at a different time in the evening.
We were expressing our thoughts on music – everything from prog rock to jazz rock. When I say expressing, I mean drifting in and out of half-sentences and ocassionally making sense. Who was better: Neil Young or Frank Zappa? Can or Genesis? We talked for what seemed like hours about music and bands and who we had seen and when.
We had two key things in common: none of us particularly liked ‘pop’ music and most of us were involved in university ents (entertainment) in some capacity.
This was an exciting time for me: I was being exposed to music I had never really listened to before. The others in the group were into Kevin Coyne, Captain Beefheart, Soft Machine, the Crazy World of Arthur Brown. I threw Traffic, Caravan, Gentle Giant and Wishbone Ash into the mix and then immediately thought to myself that these seemed a bit pedestrian compared to some of the others. They weren’t of course. I was just shocked at how much I didn’t know about music.
After what seemed like many hours a hush descended; the terrible realisation that due to our self-absorption we might have missed the beginning of the most important event of this – or any other – evening. The John Peel Show. Was at 10 o’clock yet? Time has little or no meaning to a student, especially one imbibing herbs and/or ales.
Someone was alert enough (I am not sure alert is quite the right adjective) to not only realise the hour, but to switch on a wireless – or something resembling a wireless. It might have been a radiogram (did students have radiograms?) Our eyes were glued to whatever gadget was producing sound. Which is odd when you think about it. Don’t think about it too long…
John Peel was with us. The fun was about to begin as we listened intently to him and to the music. The hush did not last too long; we dissected each track like we were writing reviews for competing rock mags. I was NME, someone else was Melody Maker… you get the picture.
And then something happened. Something completely unexpected, and boy did we shut the hell up. What the fuck is this? Jaws dropped. We were instantly sober with synapses firing like a string of bangers on fireworks night. Complete silence from us. Wall of noise from the radio. Did we like this? Did we hate this? Furious glances to the facial expressions of others, looking for some clue as to how to respond. We didn’t want to be uncool. I certainly didn’t want to be uncool.
John Peel planted a bomb that exploded in the air all around us. The session tonight: The Damned. Neat Neat Neat. Stab Your Back. This was fast loud angry edgy – and short.
By midnight our various musical tastes were brought into question, and in some cases cast aside without a second thought. For some of us our first instinct was to ditch everything we knew because something jaw-dropingly new had happened. This was, musically at least, a life-changing moment and we were dazed and confused, attempting desperately to make sense of what had just happened, how we were going to adjust and what it might mean for the future.
We agreed that this sound was it. I went out and bought the first Damned single and immediately became a collector. Every Stiff 45; every Clash 45; every Siouxsie 45. Boy do I wish I still had them now – what a collection that would be!
I felt privileged to be alive at this pivotal moment, and in the centre of London and on the fringes of the music scene. In my view there has not been a moment like it since.
A small sample of some of the records I had at the time, but were they all punk? I don’t really care…!
It wasn’t really the birth of punk but…
Now, I knew that punk had been around for a while in one form or another. But for most people that first Damned session on John Peel marked the beginning of punk – in Britain at least. And it changed everything. Out went Caravan, Genesis and Yes. In came The Damned, The Clash and The Buzzcocks (yes, that first Spiral Scratch EP was – and remains – a classic). My hair became short and red and I started going to every ‘punk’ gig I could find.
What is interesting for me looking back is just how short-lived punk actually was. Part of the problem was that a lot of the bands we saw in those early days were not punk at all, like The Jam and The Specials. But they were part of the ‘scene’, so not a problem at all. And of course they were bloody good.
I collected some bands and even some labels: I had every single Stiff record – If It Ain’t Stiff It Ain’t Worth A F**k as they used to say (and I had the t-shirt to prove it). I had every Clash, Buzzcocks, and Sex Pistols single, including duplicates if they were picture-disc or coloured vinyl or 10/12″ versions. Yes; there were 12″ punk singles – with dub versions!
Being involved on the university ents committee helped enormously. I used to see at least one band most nights and was on the guest list for quite a few, which helped out with the student grant.
Post Punk & Our Price
When I left Uni I worked for Our Price Records in the West End and learned a great deal about the music industry, working with talent scouts and getting on to even more guest lists. I was responsible for buying from indie dealers at a time when the music scene was fracturing in the post-punk era – it was sometimes difficult to predict what people would want to buy. Was electronica going down the Gary Numan or the Human League route? Were The Police going to make it? Would New Order be as big as Joy Division?
I specialised in rarities like Joy Division 12” singles and bought from labels like 4AD, Stiff, Greensleeves, Rough Trade… and (strangely) started the first reggae chart in a mainstream West End store; I wish I’d kept some of those hand-written carefully crafted Reggae Top 20 posters!
Of course, it was not all fun. The Directors of Our Price made me go to a West End hotel reception for the Bee Gees, just flown back from the US for a tour of Europe. I had to be nice to them, and I’m sure I was. But I was cringing inside…
Looking back
Looking back from 2024 it is clear that ‘punk’ lasted for about two short years. Out of it came ‘new wave’, ‘new romantics’ and a whole bunch of other sounds. ‘Punks’ also latched onto reggae, ska, pub-rock – and bands like The Specials, Dr.Feelgood and Talking Heads.
The acid test for me came in the 2010’s when the LP revival was in full swing and I bought my first record deck since 1980. I was determined to limit myself to a handful of records that I would play – and enjoy – time and again, limited of course to what was available. The Clash are still top for me, as are Joy Division and Siouxsie and the Banshees. I also found new pressings of albums by The Members, The Slits and The Ruts, which I still listen to now, all these years later.
Colin Anderson 
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