“‘ave ya got Into The Valley by THE SKIDS?” (Paul Calf to DJ)
I first heard THE SKIDS when John Peel played The Saints Are Coming (Wide Open EP, 1978), an electrifying two minutes that stood apart from the punk pack of the time. I bought that EP, a great four-track affair that also features the classic Of One Skin.
When Into The Valley came out in 1979, it was an earth-moving moment for me and my punk-obsessed friends. By the end of 1977, contrary to popularly held belief, punk rock had died only for the trendy London set and those lucky enough to discover it early, already moving onto more experimental sounds. For kids like us growing up in small towns it was still filtering through and consuming our young lives.
The song begins with an ominous, marching bass riff, carved up by Stuart Adamson’s iconic, jaw-dropping guitar, before bursting into a solid-gold classic, aided by powerhouse drumming and the unique Scottish vocals of Richard Jobson. An exhilarating punk rock battle hymn, brought fully to life by the faultless production of David Batchelor, who also worked with THE ALEX HARVEY BAND, DR FEELGOOD & OASIS. The singers’ poetic prose was rendered all but indecipherable by his burly brogue, compelling fans to concoct their own nonsensical versions, though I managed to snag the issue of Smash Hits magazine with the lyrics printed inside. Jobsons’s audacious, high-kicking dance, as witnessed on Top of the Pops, was gleefully adopted by kids at youth club disco’s up and down the land.
I was 14 years old when Into The Valley was released and it was one of those punk singles that I became obsessed with, developing into an obsession with the band generally, albeit for just a couple of years. My interest began to wane sometime around 1980 after buying most of the singles, the last one of which was Circus Games, a fine moment in their run of razor-sharp releases at the time. I obviously wasn’t sufficiently moved (or moneyed) to buy the band’s third album it was lifted from – The Absolute Game – despite being tempted by a limited edition which came with a free LP of experimental material. My younger brother Dave later had another single from this album, A Woman in Winter. When I asked him what he thought of it, he solemnly shook his head and said: “it’s terrible”.
The album Into The Valley was taken from, Scared To Dance, is an overlooked classic of its time, never referenced in retrospectives – not any real indication of quality I know, but still. A mighty punk rock album by any standard, it succeeded in being powerful and anthemic, while simultaneously harbouring an ageless sense of brooding poetry. My paper round wages wouldn’t cover it and I still remember the jealousy I felt when a mate bought it. Looking back, he was a dark and often cruel character, possibly as a result of having wealthy parents, being shunted around the country every couple of years and given everything he wanted. Our friendship was short-lived, but how I pored over that album. The artwork and lyrics were a little too abstract for my still-developing brain – apart from the self-explanatory Charles – which just served to make it all the more captivating. I copied it to a cassette and that was how I listened to it during that wondrous year of skateboarding, listening to John Peel under the covers, and singing along to punk songs in my bedroom. If proof were needed that things move fast when you’re a teenager, in just a year’s time I would be relying on my bum-fluff ‘stache to get into pubs.
The b-side, TV Stars, was recorded live at The Marquee in 1978. It displayed a humorous side to the otherwise wordy, intellectual poetry of much of their output. It consisted of a basic punky riff, accompanied by Jobson shouting the names of characters from various soap opera’s (Ena Sharples, Annie Walker, Sandy Richardson) with Kenny Dalglish and John Peel also getting a mention. The rowdy live recording, with crowd chants of ALBERT TATLOCK!, Jobson’s unintelligible Scottish banter and Stuart Adamson’s shredding guitar were thrilling to these pre-live-experience ears.
My copy of Into The Valley was on black vinyl and soon became well-worn, nay, knackered, so I was delighted to find a copy at a car boot sale years later, on white vinyl and almost as bruised as mine. I like to think that whoever had sold it on had once been a 14-year-old kid eagerly playing it to death, singing a garbled version in his bedroom, perfecting his own high-kicking dance.
SKIDS’ Second album, Days In Europa, was released in 1980. I bought this on release and enjoyed it but it wasn’t a patch on Scared… despite yielding two colossal singles in Working for the Yankee Dollar, released as a double 7″ pack*, and Charade. A further single, Animation, was disappointing but time has been kind and, though not as immediate as some of their other big-hitter singles, it is a mature grower.
*How could any fan resist the limited double 7″ single? In the case of between-album single Masquerade (another potent SKIDS moment), I had no choice. Here is a memory so clear, I can almost taste it, with a pang of melancholy longing: The late 1970’s, a time when it seemed almost every shop you went into sold records. I’m in the record section of an otherwise dull department store (Binns) in Scunthorpe, looking for the new SKIDS single, Masquerade. I’ve already had a scan through the albums, looking at records by XTC, JILTED JOHN and SHAM 69. Now I’m at the counter flicking through their little box of singles, the lady behind the counter watching me closely, impatience emanating from her in waves that fail to dent my excitement. I find what I’m looking for and pull it out. The emotions cycle through me: elation, then puzzlement, followed by disappointment, then excitement again but in the end, simple frustration. I am indeed holding the new single by SKIDS, the very thing I came to buy with my hard-earned paper round money clutched in my sweaty paw, but… why is it in a gatefold picture sleeve? Wait… there’s an extra single included, with more new songs on it – but it’s more expensive. My eyes widen, my mouth gapes and I may even be salivating. I wanted this thing so badly but… I just didn’t have the extra funds. That precious undimmed memory starts to fade around about there but I did buy the single version that day, I cherished it and eventually got myself one of those double packs, albeit twenty-five years later. It was worth the wait.
Yesterday, 24th March 2018, I finally bought a release that had been digging away at me since it came out in 2015: SKIDS: THE VIRGIN YEARS. Only available on CD, it is a remarkable collection of 6 discs containing all four of their studio albums, the remixed version of Days In Europa and a separate disc containing all of their John Peel Sessions. There’s also a BBC live set from 1979 as well as b-sides & early singles. It is a startling collection. My music buying habits don’t usually take me this far into the past but I found myself salivating at the thought of hearing this, as if I was that hungry teenager once more. I’ve found myself obsessing all over again. Also, I finally discovered that The Absolute Game is a mixed bag of classic SKIDS and weaker, more progressive material and that their final album, Joy, is a self indulgent atrocity.
There is hardly any live footage of the band out there from their heyday but what there is looks tantalising. I would have loved to have seen them live, ideally around 1978/79. Of course, they have now reformed as so many do and to their credit, have just released an album of new material (Burning Cities) which is, somewhat inevitably, disappointing. So this leads me to…
SNOBBERY ALERT: I do not judge those who, for reasons of nostalgia or because they were too young the first time around, wish to go and watch reformed old punk bands play. Personally? I find it a little depressing. Lighten up, I hear you say. I get that, but y’know what, and never say never, but I just don’t think it’s for me. I hear reports that some of these bands are still great live. I’m sure that’s true but I’ve seen enough YouTube footage to convince me that this is mostly not the case. I do wish that I could have seen THE SKIDS back in their relatively brief heyday but the hard truth is that some things are better left in the past.
Case in point: the band who had the biggest influence on my life is CRASS. In May 1982, when I was 16, I had the chance to see them play live at the Tower Ballroom in Hull, a little over 30 minutes from my home town. Teenage hormones won out and I skipped it to spend just another night canoodling with my non-punk loving girlfriend. A big musical regret. However, the idea of going to see CRASS vocalist Steve Ignorant in 2011 playing CRASS songs “for the last time” at the Shepherds Bush Empire just wasn’t something I would find anything other than cringe-inducing. I mean, it’s fine. it’s his choice to do it, people’s choice to indulge and my choice not to. As far as I’m concerned I missed out all those years ago and that’s where it ends. Maybe some music genres can get away with it but for me, punk is something else. I was so young, as were the bands, mostly. That youthful, primitive energy, the fury, the intensity, those radical, often naive lyrics written by teenagers. Reforming and playing those songs again as middle-aged men either for money, nostalgia or both is a tough sell. UK SUBS don’t count. They have been at it since they started, and Charlie Harper was already a middle-aged man. I have some respect for those bands who choose to reform and record new material, but why not start a new band? EPIC PROBLEM, featuring Mackie from legendary Oi!-punks BLITZ, could have reformed with him as the only original member. Instead, he kept listening to new punk rock music through the years and formed a new band, influenced by LEATHERFACE and RANCID. Remember that punk rock only withered on the vine if your reference point is the mainstream. If this is your only experience of punk then I can see why you would view it as a passing teenage phase you occasionally relive. In this space, it disappears for a few years only to pop up again when the music press decides to hype a few new bands. Real punk went underground where it has thrived ever since. Dig down into it and you will find thriving, uncompromising punk scenes the world over and an equally rich history. Just don’t expect it to sound like the SEX PISTOLS.
Final note on THE SKIDS: Stuart Adamson (RIP), This man’s guitar sound and style was as distinctive as Jobson’s vocals. I know nothing about guitars and how he managed to create such a sound but it can be heard on their first independent single Charles, albeit less developed. On Into The Valley, Of One Skin and many others, it is unique, or at least it was then. When the guitar riff kicks in on Into The Valley, it still has the power to send shivers down the spine all these years later. Post-THE SKIDS, he had great success with BIG COUNTRY and continued to develop, giving the band a panoramic clout, aided by his singular style. Although I left them behind, one can definitely hear the SKIDS guitar sound on early BIG COUNTRY singles Harvest Home and Fields of Fire.
PERSONAL PUNK 