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However, the Electric Ballroom was forced to close down after
about nine months, following severe objections to the noise levels
from some local residents. It was given new soundproofing and reopened
in July 1979, under a new manager, Terry
O’Neill, who had previously run McGonagles, one of Bill Fuller’s clubs in Dublin.
The opening show was a 2-Tone evening, featuring The Specials, Dexy’s Midnight
Runners, Madness and The Selecter.
There were several more 2-Tone gigs at the Ballroom that autumn and on some occasions
there were fights in the crowd or friction between the support band and the audience.
This happened when Madness headlined over Echo & The Bunnymen and Bad Manners
in October, and some skinheads prevented the Bunnymen from finishing their set.
It was probably just as well that the Electric Ballroom had a policy of making
everyone check their boots into the cloakroom as they entered the building. “Unfortunately,
there were fights at most of the early 2-Tone gigs, once they had grown to the
Ballroom size, rather than the Nashville or Hope & Anchor,” says Rick Rogers,
who managed The Specials. “There was immediately an attraction to the right wing
skinhead population, who would cause trouble, and sometimes it was caused by
extreme left wingers who went there to fight the skinheads. It wasn’t particularly
either side, it was just one of the problems of the whole 2-Tone era. Despite
the message that was being preached from the stage, there would always be opposing
factions in the audience and very often there would be fights and people from
the band would jump off stage to stop them.”
Joy Division also played at the Electric Ballroom twice in 1979, once in August
and again in October, when their set included early live performances of Love
Will Tear Us Apart and Atmosphere. Shane MacGowan was among those in the audience
mesmerised by Ian Curtis. “I saw Ian Curtis sing with Joy Division,” he told
Jon Wilde in 1994. “It was like a horror film. You were scared to go for a p---
in case you missed something.”
Other notable bands to play here during this period were Adam And & Ants, the
B52’s, Talking Heads, the Clash, who did a two-night stint here as part of their
London Calling tour in January 1980, and Wire, who recorded half of’ their Document
And Eyewitness live album at the Electric Ballroom the following month.
In the early-80s, dozens of influential bands played at the Electric Ballroom,
including The Cramps, The Fall, The Only Ones, The Virgin Prunes, U2, the Sisters
Of Mercy and Nick Cave, first with The Cavemen and later The Bad Seeds. The Smiths’ first
gig here is still remembered as an all-time great. “That was one of the best
shows I’ve seen anywhere,” says Brian Wheeler. “It was just one of those concerts
that happens every once in a while. Most people had never heard of The Smiths
at the time, so it was a bit of a surprise to me that we got a capacity crowd,
but I guess word had already got around.”
Another of the memorable shows was in August 1983 when Ace Records put together
what was arguably the best R&B show to ever hit London, featuring Willie Egan,
Chuck Higgins, Big Jay McNeely and Young Jessie. The same bill subsequently recorded
studio sessions, which were later released as a live album on Ace. “I remember
that gig at the Electric Ballroom,” says Nick Garrard, “because I had been out
on a drinking contest with Shane MacGowan the night before, and ended up needing
stitches in my head. I was pilled out of my brain and couldn’t stand because
my legs were wobbly. So I sat in the cafeteria in a place where I could see the
stage, and then Big Jay McNeely did his routine where he walks round the whole
place and, of course, he makes a beeline for me because I’ve got this trilby
on to hide where they shaved my head to put the stitches in. Anyway Big Jay ends
up sitting on my lap - I was feeling like death at this point - and then this
guy behind me takes my hat off and puts in on Jay’s head. So I take it back and
he does it again, so I have to hit him. The guy, not Jay.”
In 1983, the Electric Ballroom became the place to be on a Saturday night when
it started the Warehouse, which was a rockabilly club upstairs, while Jay Strongman
played disco and funk downstairs. The Electric Ballroom was a legitimate place
for the Warehouse which had grown out of various illegal clubs around North London,
such as Dirtbox and Demob. “Loads of famous people came through the Warehouse
when it first started,” says Paddy James, who DJ’d with Jay Strongman at the
Ballroom’s Saturday night Crush Club for many years. “It was still hip for the
first year that it went legitimate, because people didn’t want that glammy, glitzy,
Mecca-venue kind of vibe.”
In September 1985, the Jesus & Mary Chain played here, with Bobby Gillespie on
drums. After they had played their usual 20-minute set, the band left the stage.
The audience demanded an encore which they were never going to get. Some people
threw glasses at the ceiling and smashed the strip lights, while others climbed
onstage and started kicking over the amplifiers. At this point, some of the bouncers
retaliated by waving microphone stands at certain sections of the audience then
dozens of police stormed into the Ballroom. It was hardly the Jim Reeves riot,
but it was one of the more memorable gigs of the 80s.
Former Sisters Of Mercy Wayne Hussey and Craig Adams unveiled their new name,
The Mission, at the Electric Ballroom in February 1986, after Andrew Eldritch
[who was in the audience that nightl] stopped them from using their original
name, The Sisterhood. Unfortunately, the banner failed to unfurl properly, announcing
them to the stunned crowd as ‘The Miss’ before a roadie was quickly dispatched
to pull down the other three letters.
The Mission are among the many bands who have recorded videos at the Electric
Ballroom and it is also used as an occasional TV location. The most famous scenes
to be shot here were in the 1986 film, Hearts Of Fire, a pretty atrocious account
of a rock star, but one which nevertheless brought the lead character, Bob Dylan,
to Camden Town for two days. “I was surprised that somebody of his enormity could
just be like a regular Joe and walk around the streets and go into all the shops,” says
Brian Wheeler.
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