Bill and Bens in South Street,St Austell,Cornwall.They were Sweeney Todd like barbers.Traditional with a capital T.
They had pictures of men in their walls with like stylish haircuts,but they never did any of them,they just did the basin cut.
When Sham 69 did a gig at the Cornwall Colleseum,they closed up early cos they didn’t like “Punks”.
One of the barbers sons,Craig was a punk,so I always got mixed messages from them,to be honest.I liked Craig.He liked the New Wave/Punk scene,and dressed and lived the genre.Many of us,including me,just pretended.Craig didn’t care what others thought and I respected that.He wasn’t crazy,in fact,quite the contrary,he was serious abut the issues of the day.He was to go one the Poll Tax marches against Thatcher.He lived for what he stood for.
The music then was vibrant,the people then in the know saw that.Richard Branson saw how the wind was turning,and he cashed in.He catered for the disposed youth of my generation,opened up Virgin stores with the couches signed “The Sex Pustols”.Their album,serial number V2086 sold in the shop like hot cakes”Never mind the Bollocks,here’s the Sex Pistols,was its provocative title.
Craig lived that time,he really did.As I look back on those times,I wonder if we have any young Craig’s now who might stand against Austerity,stand against unfairness.No,I don’t mean people like Owen Jones and such like,I mean ordinary plebs like I was,and probably still am.
For a culture to have its own music,it has to own it.Craigs dad would have come home each night,looked at his son and thought “Hell,what have I spawned?”
Sometimes,you have to be yourself in life and make your own way,like Craig.
Miss you mate,miss you.