1977 % Proof

"Danger stranger, you better paint your face, no Elvis, Beatles, or the Rolling Stones... in1977."

In 1977 I was 13 and listening to Queen, Boston and Thin Lizzy. In 1978 my sister gave me a record token for Christmas. I bought the sex pistol's never mind the bollocks picture disk LP which I still have. I had also discovered the Clash, Johnny Thunders, the UK Subs, the Damned and, in my view, one of the finest punk bands in the world, Stiff Little Fingers. By late 1978, I was playing guitar with the fledgling Bangor based punk band 70% proof. Ralf, Gaz and myself all went to Gransha where we met, Russ went to the Grammar, but tolerated the proletariat.

Robert Scott had been playing guitar with `the proof` on and off but was really the lead guitarist for the older and more accomplished bands at the time like Palace of Variety. The Doubt and the Co-ordinants were also one of our contempories, slightly older and undoubtedly more proficient. I desperately wanted to become a better guiatrist and we practiced incessently throughout the summer and winter months. I also spent my dinner money on mars bars and cidre. In terms of dedication to a specific cause - the cidre drinking beat guitar practice hands down...and d'you know what, is still does.

It would be pretty fair to say we belonged the second phase of punk. The originals, plastic bin bags and fishnets, had melted away and were being replaced by a new model army with a more uniform look, doc martens, bleached or bondage jeans, mohair jumpers and black bike jackets and a less tolerant attitude to those who refused to conform. I gladly joined up but had to sneak up to Gaz's house to get changed as my mother refused to tolerate subversive clothing, which was quite odd as she came to my wedding wearing a hat bearing an uncanny resemblance to a flying saucer.

One of the proof's first serious gigs was in Ballyhome youth club in a fairly affluent suburb of Bangor. I spent the 15 minutes before the gig on the bog literally shitting myself with nerves. We came on, raced through a few covers like teenage kicks and a number of originals that Russ and the other `proofs` had penned like `no fame.` We cocked up quite a bit. Having a relatively innumerate guitarist meant that starting songs was often tricky, "one, two, tree...?" All in all though, the gig wasn't half bad and we even got a write up in the local weekly paper the Bangor Spectator by incumbent journo for youff and now best selling author and thoroughly nice guy Colin Bateman who described us as, Bangor's answer to the Angelic Upstarts and as young raw and...happy? We were laughing at your bondage jeans Colin, nothing more.

Gaz and I became pretty friendly and still are to this day. He was unemployed at the time (Thatcher's Britian and all that), I was working in a supermarket stacking shelves and on Wednesdays (my day off) we used to catch the train up to Belfast, trudge up to Terry Hooley's Good Vibration Records for the latest punk offerings. The biggest local bands of the day were the Outcasts, Rudi, Rufrex. SLF on the other hand, were entirely in a league of their own. I finally managed to catch the Fingers in the Ulster Hall in 1979. Supported by the Outcasts and the Members, SLF came on and blew the place apart. Here was a band that knew what it was like to grow up in Northern Ireland in the 1970s. I have since seen Jake Burns interviewed and he has perhaps played down the markedly political orientation of the band, but in truth Northern Ireland was a pretty grim place, dark, politically charged and very very nervy. Stiff Little Fingers had their finger on the pulse of the province at that time.

The proof split in 1980. My mother had decided that I needed a fresh start and I had an ill uncle in Ontario Canada who was getting divorced. She agreed to become his carer as it would give me a chance to go to Canada, get back to school and make something of myself. Prince Andrew followed me soon after, I guess his mum reckoned he needed a helping hand too.

In truth my departure was only one reason why the band broke up. Russ had discovered girls and the fact prescription drugs for acne mixed with large volumes of cheap cidre gave you the most intense halucinations during which he would pen interesting ditties (I said ditties not diddies) about breeding and sheep (not to be confused with breeding sheep or breeding with sheep), which Gaz had difficultly singing about. (A bad experience as a teenager on holiday in Wales, don't ask)! Ralph difted away to University in the UK where he drummed with a band called Onion head. His true talent, however, lay in drinking copious amounts of alcohol and then being violently sick earning himself the name, "Pukin McGookin!"Gaz and I wanted to be the UK Subs merged with the Ruts, "We hate your guuuuuuuuuuuts, we're living in a ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuta!" See the comments from the Duke on his memories.

70% proof sadly fell apart. Russ continued with other bands and even released a single with a band called Carpenter Joe. Life became a little difficult for him, everyone has demons to fight.

Hence in December 1980, after saying goodbye to a few mates and lusting heavily for a petite blonde on my street who was going out with someone else, as was I, I found myself dressed in a crombie (that I had nicked from my boss - but had the good sense to have dry cleaned before I wore it), levis and red brothel creepers on an Aer Lingus flight bound for a very cold and a very quiet life in Ontariario. Oh happy days...