flies, blisters and hardcore punk
PLEASANT VALLEY CHILDREN were late 80’s, UK hardcore punk with a dark, nihilistic identity. Criminally underrated, most people prefer their admittedly impressive demo. For me though their best recording was the FUCK KILL DESTROY! LP (released in 1991 on Words Of Warning Records), a near-perfect capture of twisted, sarcastic hardcore. At times unhinged, at others brooding, touchstones are DEAD KENNEDYS & CRUCIFUCKS, though reviews at the time favoured BLACK FLAG as a strong influence. Shot through with a deliciously dark British humour, it was capped off with dismal, nihilistic artwork. That said, it is their debut 7″ EP, What The World Needs Now (1989, also on WOW), that brings back halcyon memories of flies, blisters and youth hostels.
what the world needs now… is a personal fly-cloud
Soon after the release of this single, my brother David and I embarked on an ambitious (for us) week of hiking in the Yorkshire Dales. The plan was to walk from hostel to hostel, armed only with an ordnance survey map and Dave’s meticulously planned route. A truly memorable week, not least because the blisters I developed were beyond anything I had expected. Incredible. Then there were the flies. It was towards the start of the trip, the weather was balmy and we were nice n’ relaxed as we passed a copse to our left. As we clambered over a stile to cross a field, an enormous swarm of flies swooped out of the trees, enveloping us completely. Running full pelt, complete with our own personal fly-cloud, rucksacks jouncing, arms waving frantically while making pathetic shrieking noises, we finally we made it to the other side. We collapsed, laughing uncontrollably, the flies having inexplicably retreated back to their watch.
Another day saw us having to walk half way down a mountain and back up again to avoid a particularly intense looking herd of cows, who hadn’t taken too kindly to a couple of pasty-faced humes crossing their path. Subsequently, we got lost on the top of that mist-shrouded mountain, and Dave wandered off to see if he could figure out the correct route down. He was gone for ages. I stood there, frantically scanning the eerily thick fog, shouting his name until I thought my throat would tear. After a disconcertingly long time, he reappeared out of the mist and I blasted him because my worry came out as anger. I remember thinking that I sounded just like our Dad when he got mad, possibly the first time of many I realised that, at least in part, we can’t escape becoming our parents.
“what do you mean, no pub?”
On one day’s walking, Dave’s well-researched route had inevitably gone awry, so we hitched a ride the rest of the way. When we arrived, I discovered that he had booked us into a hostel that didn’t have a pub within walking distance. I know. I wonder at how man times I must have said “what do you mean, no pub?” After walking all those miles each day, I always looked forward to plopping down, exhausted, in the nearest Dales drinking establishment, scarfing down some food and following it with a few choice ales (lager). Suitably unimpressed, I fumed on my bunk, attempting to read Silence of the Lambs while listening to a grizzled ex-army bloke pop his blisters with a pin whilst simultaneously opining the lack of conscription in the UK. Downstairs in the games room, Dave played skittles and other table-top thrills with some lasses he’d met – he was single then and always on the lookout. It was a long night.
uncharacteristic casual cruelty
We gave names to some of the characters we met along the way: Bottle Aftermath, Huge Features and Sheep spring to mind, though I think I can safely leave the origin of these to your imagination. Uncharacteristically cruel as this may seem, the only defence I can offer is that those so-named were, without exception, pompous twats and smug know-it-alls. Skipping forward, the last day arrived and I recall it perfectly, bittersweet though it is. The long, torturous haul to the pick-up point reduced me to a blistered, sun-blasted creature, virtually on my hands and knees. The aforementioned blisters had finally succumbed to the pressure, the leaking fluid soaking the ends of my socks – I had had enough while Dave breezed ahead, cheerily pointing out the welcoming sight of our parents car in the distance. This was the second time during that week that I was immeasurably pleased to see them. The first was on the day we had walked for hours in torrential rain and, on arriving in Settle, there they were, having booked us a room in an actual pub. Just… wow. That week was a truly memorable time for me and my kid brother. The day we decided to take a break from walking, we spent the day rock hopping and arsing about round Aysgarth Falls, like a couple of kids without a care (which we were, really – Dave and me were late to mature) has taken on hazy, soft-focus hues with the passage of time, and remains a special memory.
the return of Huge Features
So why does the beautiful mess of the PLEASANT VALLEY CHILDREN EP take me back to that week? One evening, after another days slog, we turned up at Grinton Lodge Youth Hostel to find that they didn’t have any beds left. That’s a lie. They did have a damp, mouldy old caravan on the hostel grounds. Too tired to be choosy, we took it. After walking into Reeth and unearthing a pub with a vegetarian menu – a rarity in most places back then but unheard of in rural Yorkshire – tucked up in our damp cots, we listened to one of my compilation tapes. On it was Flounder by PVC, taken from the EP this article is titled after. Pig Havoc growling “sometimes I could kick you just to see you mooove!” made us laugh so hard, we must have kept awake those staying in the other damp and mouldy caravan across the way. We rose early in the morning to spot none other than Huge Features himself, stepping bleary-eyed from it and didn’t feel so bad. We did, however, keep up our admirable Pig Havoc impressions for the rest of the week.
a Sned story
PVC’s drummer Sned was a crucial piece of the DIY scene in the 80s, 90s and beyond. As well as playing in countless legendary UK bands such as GENERIC, ONE BY ONE, HEALTH HAZARD, JOHN HOLMES and BOXED IN, he also released a slew of vital records on his Flat Earth label – all of which are available to stream on the bandcamp page – and he was/is a really amiable bloke. Our paths crossed on a few occasions, so here is a little Sned story: from 1987 to 1989, my then partner Sarah and I promoted DIY punk gigs under the name Off With Her Head at the Queens Hotel in Scunthorpe, and there are many tales from this time. PVC actually appeared at one of the later ones and played an unhinged set to the local crowd who had a penchant for sitting on the floor. This didn’t prevent vocalist Pig Havoc from stalking and thrashing his way among them. That same year, Sned’s other band, GENERIC, played with Danbert Nobacon (of CHUMBAWAMBA), the latter doing his solo acoustic act. Incidentally, around this time, Danbert released a 7″ single with a close up of his genitals on the cover, and had taken to dropping his trousers while playing those songs live. Thankfully, we were spared that on this night.
Sned had been feeling rough since arriving earlier in the evening but by the time Danbert took the stage, he looked awful and said that he felt really ill. It was suggested that he should go to A&E to get checked over so I went with him and the rest of the band to Scunthorpe General Hospital. While we waited for him to be seen on that busy Saturday night, back at the Queens the unfortunate Danbert was heroically extending his set in the hope that GENERIC would get back in time to play theirs. Finally, Sned was diagnosed with a urine infection and treated with antibiotics. We made it back to the venue, Sned feeling much better and GENERIC managed to play a brilliant set to an appreciative but seated crowd.
Around the time PVC played their gig at The Queens, the UK punk scene was awash with bands playing crusty, metallic thrash and PVC shone brightly with their off-kilter racket. They remain another unsung gem in the UK DIY hardcore punk canon.
PERSONAL PUNK 