Have been quietly ruminating of late about the past. It’s a rite of passage for most, but I find that the deeper I fall into my late 40s, the more it’s become a second home, rather than the occasional memory motel stop it previously was.
When you’re in your 20s or 30s, there’s a lack of oxygen in staying too long in the past, and before too long you have to come back up for air and get on with life, but with older age comes the Poseidon-like passion for deep dives, and inspecting the wrecks that sit morosely on the sea bed.
With 1994 seeming so wildly recent in my memory, I find it hard to quantify that it’s a full 30 years ago, but there we are.
At the start of 1994 I was playing drums in a grunge band called “Brainchild”. We were pretty awful, but it had been a useful exercise in creation. I loved the act of rehearsing and playing music with others. It taught me how to write songs, how to structure the framework, and that most of what you do when you start out is bad. While the songs in this band were all largely rubbish, my friend Dom (the bass player) and I had fallen in love with Suede on the side, and were plotting an escape to form our own band. One where I would come out from the drums and sing, and Dom would take on lead guitar duties, the role he was born to play.
Throughout ‘94, we’d sit around at my house, penning songs that sounded too much like other songs, and sketching imaginary NME/Melody Maker covers that painted us as tortured geniuses. Our first song “Young Blood” was fine effort that danced around the streets of E-Minor with dark malevolence. Though it ultimately came up short, it had areas of encouragement.
I loved writing songs with Dom, we were both Geminis, and both loved playing with chords, trying our best to avoid standard patterns. Why write a song in open G, when you could do it in A-flat? Why not make every song have a major to minor transition? Why not put phaser on everything? Dom’s was Johnny Marr and Bernard Butler all in one - a machine of melody and jangly delight. It wasn’t long before we had a lot of material, and were ready to make the tough call to tell Brainchild we were leaving.
Luckily the frontman of Brainchild had already decided that he’d like to move on to other things (smoke weed, every day), so he split the band up before we got the chance to. Dom and I were now free to make plans, and recruit his friend Gavin to be our bass player. I managed to find Ian, friend of a friend, to play drums, and before long we were in rehearsals playing our exciting new songs. There were playful titles like “Menial Superstar” (The story of a light-entertainment nobody), “Trafalgar Posture” (celebrating Britannia by way of Blur), “My Rebellion” (A load of nonsense about taking on the world with paper planes), “Boys” (A deeply cutting take down of rave culture), “Drag” (a lament for a sad Suede-esque drag artist), and the very shit “BMX” (a horrible song about riding a BMX about the place).
The band name we’d initially chosen was “Whipsnade”, based on our favourite Suede B-side at that time, and even more fitting as our first song ,“Young Blood” was a total rip off of it. However it was soon decided that we’d go with “Sherbet”, as it sounded suitably “kooky” (sorry) and as Brit-Pop was in the early stages of happening, it felt right. Through a friend at college I’d met Toby, a cool-looking guitarist who was keen to join us, and he fitted in perfectly.
We played a few open-mic nights, and kept rehearsing every Sunday. By January 1995 we’d managed to wangle an actual gig at Watford college, supporting local superstars “Shag”, and actual signed local legends “Pimlico”.
It was a very nervous night, and one that really underlined how hard it is to go from the backline of a band all the way to front. Drummers can hide. Drummers can nest, singers cannot. I’d been out that day to buy a suit from Oxfam, and with my red shirt, had the sort of sartorial elegance that only the genius possess and the insane lament. I remember the pressure of it, the crushing pressure of being out there in front of drunk friends, and strangers. The only picture from the night is below, and I can still feel the gripping of the cuffs, and the drawing in of the arms in order to feel less nervous in front of the lights.
Throughout 1995 and 1996 we played many times around St. Albans, with The Horn being our venue of choice. The dirty sofa in the back stage nook, the graffiti walls, the smell of stale beer, the walk on music as we stomped on stage with our Doctor Marten’s. "Nice to see you, to see you….” my traditional greeting to the audience while the band plugged in and tuned up. Fond memories of playing our “hit” song “Suburbia” and our very small, devoted crowd at The Horn singing the chorus back to us as I held the mic out to them.
We briefly had a manager. A gormless posh lad (friend of our new drummer) with no clear idea of what managing meant - apart from the odd, and I mean odd, phone call to gee me up with stupid pep-talks, “You’re the fucking front man, John. The front man. Yea?”. I mean, he was right, but I usually had no idea what he was talking about, and why he was calling me. He obviously just enjoyed the idea that he was managing a band, but he was utterly fucking useless. He would come to rehearsals, sit in the corner and just nod, or say stupid shit that I suppose he thought would be helpful, deep or meaningful, but were anything but. He was just annoying. He sent our demo tape out to labels in an envelope filled with actual sherbet as a gimmick, which he thought was a great idea, but I’m sure they all ended up in the bin immediately.
Toby and Gavin left in 1997 to form their own band, while Dom and I ploughed ahead, renamed the band “Indiana”, and recruited our friend Ruban from a just-split local band “The Violets”. I was utterly in awe of Ruban, particularly when he and Dom played together. He was so effortlessly cool, with a real swagger and a beautiful playing style. He had a massive Bernard Butler-esque guitar, tapes filled with exciting song ideas, and he played piano. I used to so look forward to getting in the room with them. Writing was even better now, especially as I had now taken over playing bass.
Indiana was a very fun band; Radiohead-esque sounds with Suede structures. We’d also discovered self-indulgence and songs began to stretch and outstay welcomes. We started to play in London a lot more, and it always felt like something big was around the corner, but that’s another story.
What a great read, and some fantastic memories! I remember taking the Sherbet cassette to uni and listening to it on repeat! "Keeping up with the Jones', Johnny got his kicks, Joel got hurt by a bit of skirt, he won't take any shit".... I feel like your photographer Louisa should have got a mention though and your number 1 groupie 🤣😜
I enjoyed reading this John. 1994 wasn't that long ago, in my opinion, as I cling on to my last 3 weeks of so of my 40s. The only real thing I recall from then was Kurt Cobain's untimely demise, somehow the entire Indie/BritPop thing seemed to pass me by, I know there's a lot of good stuff from around then I must have just had my head somewhere else.