Gig 027 Graham Parker & The Rumour / Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes

Graham Parker & The Rumour / Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes
11 March
Oxford New Theatre

First gig in a while that I was excited about. Since I’d last seen him Graham Parker’s profile had risen substantially; they had even scored a modest chart hit with a neat version of Trammps’ groove Hold Back the Night, ideally suited to GP’s soulful rasp. A headline slot at the New Theatre was a clear promotion from the Poly, though gigs there tended to be less fun what with the seats and the security and all that. In the absence of punk gigs it would have to do.

By now a few punk records were appearing – the Damned’s first album was fast, rowdy and fun, particularly the single Neat Neat Neat; I loved the Stranglers’ (Get a) Grip (on yourself) and spent hours trying to master Jean-Jacques Burnel’s rumbling melodic lines on a plywood SG copy bass guitar purchased in a junk shop; Television’s Marquee Moon was arty, anti-rock; The Ramones second album Leave Home was not unlike their eponymous debut, nothing wrong with that. I wasn’t so sure about the Clash’s first single White Riot, after all the hype in the press it sounded a bit tinny, like a sped-up agitprop version of the Glitter Band, but they looked cool and righteous in photos. There was an emerging trend in the UK music press whereby certain white rock journalists adopted Jamaican patois, talking about the Clash’s soon-come album as a serious t’ing, 1977 being the year when the two 7’s clash according the prophecy of Marcus Garvey. The concept of cultural appropriation was yet to have its day.

Regrettably, Oxford didn’t really do punk at this time. The social secretary at the Polytechnic made it clear that he wasn’t having it, playing the Damned’s Stab Yor Back (admittedly a rubbish track) at one gig and saying something to the effect that ‘now we’ve insulted your intelligence let’s get back to some real music’. There wasn’t much happening gig-wise at the CFE, and there weren’t really any other suitable venues in town. My friends and I had discovered the Corn Dolly, a city-centre basement bar which featured live music, but it was strictly old-wave stuff, blues-based rock, covers of the Doobie Brothers, half-arsed prog etc. I think Swindon’s XTC played there but we missed it and anyway they were unknown at the time. The clientele was a bit older (i.e. 25-ish) and wouldn’t have much time for the new wave, in fact there was considerable antipathy towards anything that might be considered ‘punk’ – years before Wallace & Gromit, the wrong trousers could get you a serious pasting. We hung out there anyway, drinking disgusting Breaker malt liquor and then trying not to throw up on the bumpy bus ride back to Abingdon. We were under-age but in those days pub managers didn’t worry too much so long as you behaved yourself. And live music was live music.

Given the generally thin gruel available, Graham Parker & The Rumour felt like an event, boosted by the presence of Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes as support. I knew Johnny Lyon was from New Jersey and was a mate of Bruce Springsteen, and I’d heard one or two of his tunes on the radio. His swinging old-school r’n’b style was a good fit with the headline act, and he looked the part too. At one point the drummer took centre-stage to sing the basso profundo chorus on The Swallows’ magnificently smutty 50s jump-blues hit It Ain’t the Meat, it’s the Motion. They did that American thing where they’re not too embarrassed to enjoy engaging the audience, a practice which somehow felt smarmy with most Brit acts. All in all Johnny and the Jukes were the business, so the bar was set quite high and GP cleared it with no problem. It’s a simple thing really, a cooking band, strong songs and a great singer, but what took it to the next level was the tetchy intensity that GP projected. A scrawny little geezer, the challenge of playing bigger, seated venues just seemed to push him to greater extremes. While he couldn’t schmooze if he tried, he had a real presence that was all too rare then, and probably more so these days. The set wasn’t a whole lot different from six months earlier at the Poly but the group were even sharper and had cultivated a certain level of stagecraft, and they even dressed a bit better, possibly responding to competition from the dapper Johnny and his Jukes. Best gig of the year, so far.

I don’t think we went backstage, maybe sunk a swift post-gig half before closing time, anyway later in the street my friend Richard and I bumped into Johnny Lyon who asked where he could find something to eat. This being provincial England in 1977 and gone 10.30pm the pubs and restaurants were closed; hard for an American to grasp, all the nylons and chewing gum in the world wouldn’t help. We directed him to the burger van outside the bus station and he politely thanked us in that gracious American way which was so unfamiliar at the time. Thankfully we had time to scarper before he tasted an English hamburger.

Photo taken at the gig by Richard Fathers