This blog first published June 2008 on Psychedelicgaragepunk.com

I first met Wade at a Rock bar in Pompano beach, South Florida, in the summer of ‘89. He had a kind of cowpunk look about him, very modern post punk, post Hanoi Rocks – cowboy style but definitely punk rock. For the most part his guitar sound sucked, but his playing was real good. He had a strange old Fender combo. It was cream coloured, just like Jed’s Band Master amp that I used with the Accidents. Wade had two guitars, a Gibson Les Paul and a cranky old Fender Jaguar – which he’d drag out to play this whacked-out surf instrumental.

I liked his whiny Johnny Thunders type voice, and his grand rock’n’roll vision. I think we must have had a number of influences in common – the Ramones, the Cramps, and the New York Dolls most certainly, tho’ I can recall him asking me about English music of that era. And in common with the few other punk types I knew at that time, he loved the Cure. By the Summer of 1990 I had turned the whole band onto current English music, a favourite of mine being Swervedriver.

Wade also had the most beaten up car I’d ever seen, a ‘73 Camero. Every time he drove over a speed bump or a pot hole, the drive shaft disengaged! He also turned me onto drinking “Fireballs” – which were a concoction of Tabasco and schnapps.

When I arrived back in FLA in January 1990, he asked me to join the Thee Exploding Clocks and play at another Rock club in Pompano beach. I had to learn all the songs in four days – a challenge I couldn’t resist! Shortly after my first gig with the band, we sacked the bass player – mostly cos we hated his look and his playing, but also because he was bald! He used to wear a bandana to cover the fact, which we hated too. So it came about Bob Adams joined the band. Bob was a great all round musician. He also became a dear friend of mine.

The whole band adored UK punk music, so it must have been a great novelty having me in their ranks. And of course I showed them the appropriate nuances. For me it was a great experiance. As I say, the Bobs rocked out – we were a cranking unit live. Bob Jacobs was a seriously kick ass drummer. He could easily play US hardcore type drumming, and he also had a pretty good voice. He did a lot of bvox live, and I seem to remember he sang lead on a cover we did -  “You got me covered” (I can’t remember who did the original).

After a number of gigs in and around our part of South Florida, it became impossible to work with Wade. His idea of a pre-gig drink was a litre of Wild Turkey. Plus, he became increasingly  dependent on Xanax, a heavy duty tranquiliser.

So it was with heavy hearts we sacked Wade. I switched to bass, Bob Adams switched to guitar, and the Sniffs were born! The name came about when Kat Young and I were driving out to a restaurant. I put a tape in the player – “This Charming Man” by the Smiths. Ever keen to musically educate, I asked Kat if she knew who the band were that we were listening to?

“Yay-ah” she replied, “it’s the Sniffs!”

I can recall a few gigs we did as a three piece, the last one being at the Ambassador club, in Deerfield beach, in December ‘90. It was a grand old bar, with a huge  sign above the entrance – four foot high red neon letters spelling out its name. After we’d finished our soundcheck, we went into the main bar for a beer. The locals, mostly good ole boy rednecks, were having a heated conversation about the situation in Iraq. It Looked like the first Gulf war was about to kick off. “Say Buddy, you’re English, right? Wadda you think we should do?”. “Nuke ‘em!” I replied.

The L7 studio, where both bands recorded,was off of Martin Luther King junior boulevard. I always thought it was very sad that such an area of deprivation was named after a noble fellow like Martin Luther King. The whole of that area was literally the “wrong side of the tracks”, or as the white Americans called it, Crack town. Peter, the engineer, operated  rigorous security, as a result of a very nasty attack. Along Dixie highway, the old North/South interstate road, small gangs of Afro-American women roamed in search of punters to offer cheap sexual favours. These women were known as “Chicken Heads”, as oral sex could be obtained for $10, or a crack rock. A small gang of these women managed to break through the perimeter fence one evening. They got into the studio and offered services to Peter, but when he refused to give them money, they set upon him with baseball bats. Before the security guard could call the police they’d managed to give him a nasty beating. That whole sleazy, dangerous vibe probably helped put an edge on those recordings.

I can’t really remember why or where( probably via one of the local rehearsal studios) – but early ‘90, I discovered Crate amplification. The feedbacking guitar sound on the Clocks’ CD is my old ‘74 Telecaster, going through a 100 watt Crate combo. I think it was a valve amp – it certainly had dual rectifiers in the pre amp. You could get a sound that can only be described as a cross between the clasic overdriven Marshall amp with serious Mesa Boogie overtones. It was lovely!

I used the 12 string Rickenbacker that Paul Sullivan had used on stage with the Gene Tryp. It was a ‘66 vintage, so I was told. It had thin, solid  body, with a shape similar to the small bodied Ricks that the Beatles used prior to the hollow bodied models. I think some one once told me the model number was 366. Anybody know for sure? Through the Crate amp, it suddenly became very Pete Townsend, particularly on “Time for Confusion”, which I tried to give Who and Husker Du overtones.

Pete the engineer played in an excellent country band. Their staple was traditional country, but they also played country rock in the style of the Burritos or the Chris Hillman band. Pete was an exceptional pedal steel guitarist. Their lead guitar player was no slouch, either, and had done sessions in Nashville. At the time of the Clocks recording, Pete’s band had a residency at Club Elvis, in Hallendale. The guys asked me to go down and jam with them and, as I was a mega Elvis fan, it was an opportunity too good to miss! So Kat and I took a trip down to Club Elvis one night.

I was bitterly disappointed, because I expected wall-to-wall Elvis memorabilia and 50’s style decor. But what we got was a fairly shabby, glorified roadhouse bar, jam packed with cowboy rednecks!

I sang a few Elvis songs with the band, which the audience enjoyed. I have a recording of the evening, but sadly most of the music is obscured by some big cowboy harassing Kat to dance the two step with him!

A CD of music Thee Exploding Clocks and The Sniffs recorded at the L7 studio is now available – 19 years after we recorded it.

If you want to have a listen to these two great bands, you can buy a copy of the CD at http://Psygap.com

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 My Father wrote about a number of charecters from Dagger lane (1), and most were renowned for one thing or another.

The era he writes about is the early to mid 1920′s.
There was Masher Hedgecock, who would dispose of your unwanted animals for sixpence. He would take them to thesea wall, along with his shotgun………no vets or RSPCA in those days!
Claudy Clayton would kill and dress chickens, and prepare them for your pot.
Mr Wordward the mat repairer, who could be seen most days outside of one shop or another in town, repairing the big mats.
Mr Mills was the local baker, he made biscuits so hard it was impossible to break them with your teeth! They were of course, Seamen’s biscuits, and mostly bought by the fishermen, for a farthing.
Mr Grimwade ran the shop my Pa said was an “Alladin’s cave”, a general store that sold everything, and where a slate could be obtained. They sold food, clothes, cigarettes, firewood, sweets, everything you could think of. No health regulations in those days, the parafin was kept under the cheese and butter counter, second hand clothes next to the bread shelf, together with second hand shoes! The only thing that wasn’t kept and sold in the shop was coal, which was sold from the back of the shop by a man called Darkie, who Dad said was always black with coal dust.

The Grimwades also had a guest house and pub, the Castle. The cellar of the guest house was apparently a flophouse in late Victorian times, where a length of sturdy rope was tied between opposite walls. When people got very drunk and passed out, they were slung over the rope, hanging by their armpits.  When morning came, the rope was uncerimoniously cut and the hapless, no doubt very hungover individuals “flopped” to the floor!

Dad also talked about, though sadly never witnessed, a dancing bear, which was owned by a travelling entertainer who passed through and stayed in Maldon for a couple of months. My Pa’s Dad told him that the bear was kept in the cellar at Grimwades whilst his owner was in town. Try and visualise a rude awakening on the floor of the flophouse only to be greeted by the sight of a large dancing bear? I can imagine some swearing soberiety from there on in!
 
Across from Grimwades was Mr Sisson, he made all manner of things from cane. He had a wooden leg, a momento from the Great War. He also made kites, but Pa could never get one to fly!
Taylors, the sailmakers was the place were my Pa bought his “rope soled paddlers”, deck type shoes I assume, made from rope.
Every friday night, Mr Grainger sold cheap windfall apples from the Downs road, sixpence a peck(16 dry pints or 9 litres).
He owned most of the houses in Downs road at that time.
Mr Farr was the local cobbler, and ironically he had a club foot! He eventually succumbed to “Religeous Mania”!
Rocky Markham the rock man, who demonstrated rock making at the fair ground, which was situated behind the Ship and Anchor pub.
Mr Burch was the blacksmith on the Quay. You could buy an iron hoop from him for sixpence. Because there were virtually no cars on the road at that time you could roll a hoop or whip a top from one end of the town to the other. Pa said he would start at the Queen Victoria in Spital road and roll his hoop all the way to the Quay.
Around this time, the Reverend Kevill Davis was the Vicar at St Mary’s church.
He apparently gave my Grandmother his own walking stick when she had a bad leg. He was a popular figure, a kindly man whose services were well attended.

As I’ve already said, my Ma hated to walk Dagger lane because of the terrible physical handicaps some of it’s residents had, and Father said that Ricketts(a type of bone disease caused by bad diet) and terrible deformities were common.
A dwarf by the name of Georgie Woodward lived in the lane. Pa said his head was large but his body and legs were the size of a baby. His arms were apparently normal, but short and very strong, Pa said he swore like atrouper and terrified him!

The “square” between the top of Dagger lane, Church street and the Ship and Anchor were a hive of activity in the evenings, and the High street was as busy at 10.30 p.m. as it was in the daytime, with most of the shops open. On the top of Church street a Salvation Army band would play, and Salvationists would preach temperance and reformation, tho’ Dad said he knew several Salvationists who loved a tipple!
Bare knucle fighting was staged at the front of the Ship, with many betting on the outcome of the fights. Also proper troubadors were common then. Men and women would show up in the square and sing loudly, unaccompanied, some of which my Pa said had wonderful, almost operatic voices. Some would also dance.
Drinking was probably more common and excessive than even in our times. There was never any shortage of drunken, happy people. Pa recalled a chap called Oscar Payne, who was very fond of the local ale, Shrimp beer, produced on the Fullbridge.

Oscar was a “dear soul”, who would get very drunk and entertain the revellers inside the Ship and Anchor with his singing and dancing, tho’ his wife Carrie had a sharp tongue and would chastise him publically!
Pa mentions another pub entertainer, Umna Smith, who apparently played the mouth organ wonderfully. Perhaps he inspired Dad to take up the mouth organ? Dad could certainly hold a tune, but his mouth organ playing was fantastic. He could play any song, in the “vamping” style.

Pa left school at 14, in 1929, but prior to that he had what he called his “Newspaper Empire”. He aquired a paper round selling evening papers, and employed several boys. Competion between “The Star” and “The Evening News” was extremely keen, so speed was of the essence.
As soon as Pa and the lads got the papers off the train at East station he would slash the strings holding the bundles of papers, and give his “Star Runner” as he called him, a quire(25) of papers, who would cycle “like Billio”(2) to the bottom of Market hill, that is  1 in 7, and give the papers to another runner who would run up the hill to be the first paper up that evening.
They’d sell papers from 6 til 10.30 p.m., at which point my Pa’s greatest pleasure would be to go to MrJohnson’s fish shop at the top of the lane,(later Copsy’s) and buy a cod cutlet and chips costing threepence.

And if his evening’s earnings were exceptional, he’d treat his lads to a onepence portion of chips, which they were always very grateful for. They’d sell as many as 10-12 quire some nights.
The “News” were fast apparently, but because they had to take the papers from the station to a newsagent 100 yards along the road they couldn’t cut the string on their papers, so “The Star” were the fastest.

So that was my Fathers first gainful employment. He also mentioned he’d worked for Joan McCready’s Father at Jacob’s farm, picking stones from the fields, putting them into big wicker baskets(mind numbing or what!). 

However his next job would be a good deal more exciting…………..

All pictures (except the “Shrimp logo, which was taken by Terence Ruffle) courtesy of John Prime, Maldon society  archivist (and all round excellent chap).

Footnotes 1) Colin Heely, who I met along with John Prime recently, and who has lived in North street for 69 years, says the name Dagger lane was derived, he was told as a lad, from the “Degga” boards on a barge, the stabilising lee boards on the sides of the vessel. And that the Maldon pronounciation was “Dagger”. Also the lee boards cut through the water “like a dagger”.

2) Like “Billio” is said to be derived from the Maldon  fire and brimstone preacher Joseph Billio, who preached with such gusto that anyone doing anything well or being advised to do something well were told “to go like Billio”. In fact this is a piece of folk etymology, the phrase dating from much later than the minister.

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