excerpt from the book 'The Lost Decade'

Source: The Lost Decade
Date: 1988
Author: Ann Scanlon
Copywrite: © Omnibus Press 1988
Photo: by Neil Anderson.
Caption: "Shane MacGowan and James Fearnley, December 1979"



. . . At 18, MacGowan became a barman in The Griffin Tavern, Charing Cross, and a regular on London's pub-rock scene where he witnessed the likes of the anarchic Pink Fairies and blistering r 'n' b from the 10lers and Dr. Feelgood.

On June 15 1976, while waiting for the 10lers, he encountered The Sex Pistols. Already infatuated with the glam narcissism of The New York Dolls, the Pistols blew him away. Their searing energy and frozen nonchalance epitomized the disaffection of a generation.

"Seeing The Sex Pistols changed my life - it changed loads of people's lives. There was a band that just got up there and made a really horrible noise and didn't give a shit. They were all our age and had dyed hair and wore brothel creepers, and it was just a question of, 'Yeah, Fuck it. I hate everything and they're actually doing it.' I thought they were brilliant; the best group I've ever seen." Shane chopped off his hair, jacked in his job and watched the world turn dayglo. For 12 break-neck months there was action, excitement and round-the-clock kicks.

"The whole scene was based on gigs at places like the ICA and going to nightclubs that stayed open all night, taking loads of speed and drinking Pernod - as opposed to going out to a disco with your mates, drinking beer, getting in fights and picking up some bird. The punk scene was completely asexual so you'd get both sexes hanging around together, not doing anything except staying out all night and dancing. Like the best place going at the start was Louise's, which was originally a lesbian club in Soho; that was the first really good nightclub."

"One thing that's got to be pointed out about the original punk scene, though, is that it was extremely elitist, like mod in the early sixties. The whole thing was basically created by the beginning of 1977 and anyone who got into it after that was just a Pile of shit, in terms of the way that people thought. Half of it was working class disco kids and the other half was art students, there was a genuine working class thing in it - that's why it got so big in the end - but it was the hip working class. "Initially it was all about style and about fuck, literally fuck everything, 'Fuck it - I don't care. I don't care if they drop the bomb, I'm still going down to Louise's in my new pink brothel creepers.' But it was incredibly elitist: if you walked into a club wearing the wrong thing you'd be laughed out of the place; you'd have to leave the country!"

In October of 1976, a girl called Jane (later to reappear as a Modette) turned Shane into a mini-legend. "I was up the front at this Clash gig in the ICA, and me and this girl were having a laugh, which involved biting each other's arms 'til they were completely covered in blood and then smashing up a couple of bottles and cutting each other up a bit. Anyway, in the end she went a bit over the top and bottled me in the side of the head. Gallons of blood came out and someone took a photograph. I never got it bitten off - although we had bitten each other to bits - it was just a heavy cut."

"But I got into The Evening Standard and that made me a 'face' from then on. People used to stop me in the street and say, 'You're the guy who had his ear bitten off, you're great man. 'Cos that's what it turned into. It's like the old story about the bloke who catches the fish, he says that it weighs this much and it's that big and within a couple of day's it's a whale."

Shane O'Hooligan was ubiquitous: behind the reputed Rock On record stall in Soho Market by day and up front at every gig by night. Struck by the vibrant honesty of The Jam, he swore to their importance when he created his own one-off fanzine, Bondage. He quickly formed a group with his friend Shanne Bradley, and it was she who named them Nipple Erectors.

On December 1, 1976, The Pistols swore at Bill Grundy on tea-time TV, and punk went provocatively public. By the time it had been neutered and mass produced enough for the King's Road tourists, punk was over.

"It started as an expression of originality," says Shane, "but within a year people were getting into it as a kind of cattle involvement. Like loads and loads of punks crowding into halls to see The Ramones or Clash. I'm not knocking those people but the whole point was to be yourself; a complete individual."

"Speaking as one of the great trendsetters of the movement," he laughs, "the minute that anybody turned up looking a bit like you then you'd change. But in the end there were loads of people walking around with anarchist signs and hair, spiked out dyed green, and wearing leather jackets, Doc Martens and jeans, just like Sid." The Nipple Erectors immortalized their distinctive rockabilly clout on 'King Of The Bop'/ 'Nervous Wreck'. The single was produced by Stan Brennan, Shane's employer in the Soho record store Rocks Off, and the band attracted a considerable amount of attention before shortening their name to the less controversial Nips.

"We were a no bullshit group. We just used to get up, whatever state we were in, and without all the posing that a lot of other people did. We never gave all this 'I'm An Artist' shit; we were always in touch with the audience. It sounds corny but it's true."

The Nips built up a loyal following on the London circuit and issued three singles 'All The Time In The World', the notable pop ballad 'Gabrielle' and the Paul Weller-produced 'Happy Song'/'Nobody To Love'. They also recorded a live LP, casually titled 'Only The End Of The Beginning'.

They had a legendary reputation for line-up changes and, by the time they disbanded, had been through four guitarists and more drummers than anyone cares to remember. "The only people who were in The Nips from the beginning to the end were me and Shanne. The rest of them lasted as long as they lasted and then we kicked them out. It wasn't set out like that but that's the way things happened. In the end we had a really good group - James Fearnley was the guitarist - and we didn't break up properly 'til the end of 1980."

The last edition of The Nips consisted of James, Shane, Shanne Bradley and Jon Moss. "Jon Moss is a brilliant drummer, and a great bloke - although he wouldn't sing 'The Holly And The Ivy' when we played with The Jam at The Music Machine. We were all dressed in women's nightdresses and Jon was wearing a pair of frilly pants and wouldn't come out to the front of the stage to do backing vocals."

At the end of 1980 The Nips finally called it a day. Simultaneously, their Burton Street home was designated a dangerous building, so the Housing Association moved James to alternative accommodation in Mornington Crescent. It was then that he joined a soul band, The Giants. "We had a great singer called Paul Cox. He's got a really good soul voice for a white fellow, and I think he's got his own band together now. The Giants were a good group for me to be in 'cos most of the stuff I played before was thrashing. But by playing soul I just came up with these half-learnt Steve Cropper guitar licks, and the rest of it was made up. I really enjoyed playing soul guitar, but that group split up too." . . .