THE ADVERTS

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TV Smith (The Adverts) Quote © It Makes You Want To Spit! Book 2003.

“The Adverts first trip to Ireland was an intense experience. After performing ‘No Time To Be 21’ on Top Of The Pops in London, we were flown in a chartered light plane to Belfast, where we were scheduled to drive to Coleraine for the first gig of the tour. Strong headwinds and ice on the wings meant that we were in the air twice as long as planned, and by the time we finally arrived at the venue the audience had gone home. So Belfast, the next day, was to be our first opportunity to play. After soundcheck we went to check into our hotel, one of the most bombed buildings in Belfast at the time, and found it surrounded by high barbed wire topped security fences, looking more like a prison than a hotel. That’s when it really struck us : we were in a war zone. In the bar locals told us that English visitors like us had no idea what was really going on in Belfast. They were right. Back at the venue, while support band Stiff Little Fingers played, the promoter told us how many guns had been confiscated so far. Guns? What did this audience want to do? – shoot us?

They didn’t need guns. We hit the stage to the most concerted barrage of gobbing I’d ever seen. The Belfast audience had heard about the spitting craze that had been gathering momentum in he English punk rock scene over the previous year and were out to show that they were as punk as anyone. For us though, playing under a storm of spittle and having our clothes crusty and reeking for the rest of the tour was something we’d long ago grown to hate. After a few songs Gaye left the stage, and the gig descended into chaos as our manager came on and begged the audience to stop spitting. ‘She wants to come back and play for you….but PLEASE stop spitting’. He was met with the inevitable hail of gob. Eventually Gaye agreed to come back, but to the audience’s annoyance played the rest of the gig hidden behind the P.A. speakers.

On the way back to the hotel we missed a turning and found ourselves driving down rubble-strewn back streets, past army checkpoints where tense-looking soldiers carrying rifles eyed the passing of our rented mini –van with suspicion. We were four kids from London; we’d never seen anything like it. The next day our drummer was hospitalised with hepatitis and the rest of the dates were cancelled. A few weeks later, the first fanzines started to appear in Belfast, accusing us of being ‘inebriated and apathetic’ and slamming us for our stage-managed performance.

That was The Adverts in Belfast. We never went back”.

Above image taken outsdie the gates of Stormont, Belfast - Photograph © Stevenson

The Adverts - Inebriated & Apathetic!

Alternative Ulster Fanzine No. 12.

Before we begin, lemme say that Gerry and I disagree on atheism Adverts. I suppose you could sum up our differences like this. He says, "at least they came". I say that with the bloated egotistical, selfish, apathetic attitude they displayed, they'd have been better not coming at all, so it goes.

OK, let's start with a quote "I was coming down the stairs (really!) when I heard this terrible fuckin' racket. It was The Adverts" - Jake Burns, Stiff Little Fingers' guitar hero. Yeah, and so an evening of egotistical masturbation supplied none other than TV's 'balding berks' (ta Tony) was underway.

Yisee, from where I stand everything about The Adverts (behind their pleasant meet the people facade) sucked from their blatantly stale, obviously rehearsed (have they got a choreographer?) stage show to the blockheads ( Y'know, BLOCKHEADS) that accompanied them in the hideous tour entourage.

OK, the night itself, two top local groups, RUDI and Stiff Little Fingers were lined up as support. But while Les Adverts sat upstairs preening themselves for the gig by drinking ale and watching themselves on that renowned masterwork of our time 'TOTP' their gear lay dormant. But would they allow anyone to use it. No sound check for the local boys, RUDI's being cut short as it was necessary for them to leave stage (coz McCann's boys had opened the doors) and let the Stiffs have their bash.

First time I'd seen them since the revelation at the Pound, but they were not themselves. The two killer compositions, Suspect Device & Wasted Life had some semblance of the masterful construction for which they will be famed - some, but not all. The P.A., the non existent soundcheck and a misdirection of energy by the audience at the front of the stage (gobbing) were contributing factors to a well below par performance.

RUDI (like Stiffs) were disappointed by their own performance, but I wasn't. Visually impressive with gold hair spray and various other trappings from the Glam era (Youngsy's misspent youth) coupled with the fine brace of growing group compositions, when are these lads getting a recording contract?

And so to the Adverts, well no Adverts but we were treated to an hour long wait (longer?) - Why? Well, according to their roadie / bodyguard, they had to return to the hotel to get changed. Funny thing was, they came back in the same gear!! So while we waited in the overwhelming tedium of the McMordie Hall, we were all delighted to know that Gaye & the boys were back at the Wellington Park Hotel sipping cocktails.

Finally they arrive and by this time a sizeable section of the punky wavers are more than a little peeved off with The Adverts (but just wait till they start playing ha! ha!).

Point number one, their set was very badly paced. All their famous numbers were performed early in the set ( excluding an excruciatingly leaden / sing-along version of G.G's meat pies). Their set soon sinks into slick calculation, a limited appeal with samey sounding songs which very quickly begin to bore. The same can be said for their stage show. All the spontaneity of Opportunity Knocks. TV's variation on the quickstep jig, Gaye's transparent and sultry posing, Howard looks like he has been dragged in from a rancid heavy metal combo. The songs are pseudo apocalyptic dirge. Great risings in the streets, fighting between the humanoid characters, standard Bowie fare circa Diamond Dogs, but exactly what the fuck are you singing about TV?

I doubt that Gaye wants to be the vehicle for any chauvinistic ploy, so why does she allow herself to be used as one? Coz the way the Ads dealt with the gobbers was sexism pure and simple. Gaye was taken off the stage and the crowd was told 'If you stop spitting you can have Gaye back' and they did, as usual it was a pre rehearsed tactic. This band's more like a cabaret act than a Rock 'n' Roll band !!

But the big irony is that back at the hotel the next day, H. Pickup comes out with this "I like to see an audience gobbing - it shows their appreciation". Thank you, Howard. I would like to say you deserved to be gobbled on, you did, after all shit all over the fans and your support acts.

A word or two about the bouncers and the organisation of the gig. Once again we were treated to a barrier of sellotaped tables resulting in a repeat of the crushed and mangled bodies. In such conditions tempers will understandably become frayed but the treatment meted out to some unfortunate members of the audience was a disgrace. The fucken bouncers grabbed one guy, who had spat some beer at the stage, kicked him in the balls and smashed him in the face, he was dragged nearly unconscious (?) and thrown out of the hall.

On stage The Adverts aren't too concerned. TV Smith falls over drunkenly at the end of one number. After the gig he said he'd enjoyed it. So would I, if I'd been pissed as a newt. I think I'll let someone who's had far more experience at slagging bands close the piece.

Not all groups who take the trouble to come and play Ulster are shining examples to the rest of humanity e.g. the right reverend shit and his balding berks. "The Adverts - mere scum, forget them"

Right first time. Mediocre music from a mediocre band. Often leaden doomy songs not the sort of thing to make your evening go with a zing. The Adverts didn't sound very interested in what they were / are doing, they obviously don't give two small ones about people who'd be bothered to pay good money to see them. So what are their interests?

MONEY TALKS - LISTEN, CAN'T YOU HEAR IT?



DE ADVERTS OK

Review from C.S. CONTROL Fanzine Issue 2 1978.

Belfast McMordie Hall , Thursday 2nd February. Support Stiff Little Fingers & RUDI

This was a good concert from both the point of view of the performers and the audience. Especially, I suppose, as T V Smith said this was The Adverts first trip overseas. But the support was good too. Stiff Little Fingers, playing on RUDI’s drum kit, to confuse the simple people, played mainly cover versions with the odd original here and there. The covers were ‘Complete Control’ & ‘White Riot’ The Clash. ‘Neat Neat Neat’ The Damned, ‘Looking After No 1’ Boomtown Rats and ‘God Save The Queen’ Sex Pistols, which was introduced naturally enough as the ‘National Anthem’. They played a tight well controlled style for a group in this desperate country. The drumming was good but I couldn’t hear what the man was singing. Coulda? That seems to be a constant problem at these gigs. Anyway, I screamed that I was a C.S. CONTROL journalist and one of them gave me a list of their songs. Their originals were ‘State of Emergency’, ‘Revenge’ and ‘Wasted Life’.They weren’t in punk uniform, but I don’t care.

Afterwards, on came RUDI, all in boiler-suits, more in the traditional punk style, especially Brian Young,the lead guitarist, who had his legs tied together. We were right at the front, being crushed, but it was only rock ‘n’ roll and we liked it. This group were very good too but got outta time a few times. They did try hard to get everybody to dance. Their only two songs that I can remember are the ones I liked best ‘Suffragette City’ (D Bowie) and We Hate The Cops’. A fantastic song about the fighting outside the Ulster hall, when The Clash gig was cancelled. It has a chant of SS RUC! Pure Magic! The song that they announced as their single was also very good but I couldn’t make out what it was called. Then off they went without giving us any of their beer. C.S. CONTROL wishes them the best of luck. Those two groups definitely have a future ahead of them.

Now, the momentum petered out as the lights went up and we faced a really stupid, unnecessarily long wait and everyone sat around lookin’ at everyone else. The audience was really varied between totally committed - eg the freaks with turquoise blue hair, wearing full leather bondage gear, and the freakish women with skintight leotards, fishnet tights etc. And then various other nonentities like the stupid fat ponce who thought he wuz lush because he had a ‘Never Mind The Bollocks’ T-shirt, but his gut was so fat and revolting it made everyone vomit all round their C.S. CONTROL badges. Then there were the silly misguided sub-human specimens wearing swastikas etc. But no more about the gear. It’s the music that counts. Innit ?

Here The Adverts didna score too heavily I felt, but TV Smith is an above singer and Howard Pickup proved he’s not just another copy of Johnny Ramone. Of course there is Gaye Advert to increase the visual / physical attraction a hundred times over. Tonight she did her unavailable Ritchie bitch, sulking in the corner, who doesn’t like being gobbed on routine, which isn’t really anything new. TV warned us they didn’t dig spitting and when some pinhead spat all over Gaye, she proved her point. Our little lady got slightly annoyed (i.e. vicious) and attacked the gentleman concerned. Naturally, when such a NICE LADY falls into your arms then you ain’t gonna let her go in a hurry, are you? But the S.S. Students union security division counter-attacked and Gaye was evacuated. Then she hid behind the amps. Our Gaye seems to have a complex about Mr Iggy Pop, she had Iggy badges on her body and guitar and I even heard her play the opening notes of ‘Dirt’ off Iggy’s ‘Funhouse’ LP. I must confess to having only a few of their songs (taped) and didn’t rank them very high, but I found they did vary their sound successfully for different songs. Gaye’s Bass was over amplified but I was standing beside the bass amps. Howard Pickup both amuses and impresses me. A bog six footer who drinks Smithwicks and carry’s on real simple. I’m sorry, I forgot to listen to the drumming of Mr Laurie Driver - please, don’t send me to Belsen!

Well, over all it was a great night out. Oh yeah! Here’s the songs that they played (as far as I know). If they’re wrong, give me the sack. ‘One Chord Wonders’, ‘Safety In Numbers’, ‘Bored Teenagers’, ‘Quickstep’, ‘Bombsite Boy’, ‘New Day’, ‘New Boys’, ‘New Church’, ‘No Time To Be 21’, ‘Gary Gilmore’s Eyes’ etc.

Gig review from No Fun Fanzine Issue 4 (1978).

It was a wet Thursday and only the dedicated followers of fashion ventured out, leaving a sacred TOTP behind, to the first name- band punk concert in a long while. I had just caught the Adverts on TV, playing No Time To Be 21 to a bemused Top Of The Pops audience, wondering whether they should pogo or wander off to find Tina Charles. When I got into the vast auditorium of the McMordie Hall, Stiff Little Fingers were halfway through their set. They try hard I suppose but as yet they are lacking instrumentally and no original song, other than ‘Suspect Device’ stood out in my mind. They did the usual boring covers (Clash, Pistols, Rats) and most of their songs seemed to owe a lot to the two Rats singles. Never mind the polo neck...

The a short interval before the New York D...oh sorry, RUDI were on. Could hardly recognise them from after the Buzzcocks fiasco, with the new sub Bowie make up etc. The RUDI appreciation society was there in force to cheer the lads. They played a great set with my faves ‘I Wanna See My Picture On Your Sisters Wall’ and of course ‘SS RUC’. Great lyrics, apart from....‘I’m A Rapist’, (dedicated to all fanzines) and a hellluva lot of volume. But this, thank God, was not just to mask lack of playing ability. We even got a 20 second guitar solo to idiot dance to. The house had erupted by the last number of a set containing only two covers ‘Pogo Dancing’, Vibrators and Bowie’s ‘Suffragette City’. The last number was of course the by now ritual SS RUC and you wondered where the crowd were going to go from here, and perhaps it might have been better if the billing had been changed around...

Anyway, the lights went up to show the sweaty hordes at the front, the probably committed and punk rockers, the ‘men’ kitted out from the ‘genuine new wave’ instant credibility columns of Sounds and the carefully doctored safety pins through the cheek which fell out if they pogoed too violently. At the back were the ‘I’m really only into the New Wave’ bunch and the confirmed boring old farts with the reassuring smell of dope wafting about. Then the long wait started. Actually, the band had been at the Union, but had to get back to the hotel for some drugs to keep them going... Meanwhile the lad with the all purpose badge/T-shirt/poster stand made a mint, his top selling badges ‘Bollox’ ‘God Save The Sex Pistols’ and ‘Going For The One’ (eh?).

Everyone who was no-one was there of course and the regulars posed round until 10:15 when the sound got a magnificent ovation. Then on came the band - The Psychotic TV Smith, Hardworking Laurie Driver, Howard Pickup and...eh...Graham, sorry Gaye Advert, gorgeous as ever and her beautiful blue Rickenbacker (drool drool swoon) opened up with ‘One Chords Wonders’, the first single on Stiff and ‘Safety In Numbers’, a great hook line ‘n’ all ‘n’ sinker ‘n’ chips. Then the hassle started...As soon as Gaye overcame amp trouble the usual ‘Get ‘em off’ shouts started, and a hail of gob poured onto the stage. The band protested, but to no avail and eventually Gaye went off stage to play from behind the speaker stack. For a couple of songs she stood there sulkily playing the semi fuzz bass, but returned to the front row’s approval. They played a good, boring aggressive set with superb songs, changes and weird lyrics, but Howard Pickups fickle guitar style and Gaye’s incredibly bad one finger bass lines leave a lot to be desired. This seems to be the main problem. Visually they are compelling. TV Smith’s clockwork twirling, Pickup’s gangling stride, hitting the SG with force (he had a lucky escape from electrocution as beer trickled down the amp...but was mopped up by a roadie) Laurie’s frenetic drumming is stable and Gaye...well. Gary Gilmore’s Eyes And ‘No Time To Be 21’were other ‘favourites’, and after 45 minutes of frenzied gob the band were off. Backstage it was fairly calm. Pickup being a truly normal peoploid and Gaye making Tommy Ramone look like Magnus Magnesium - ah well, I touched her...Rickenbacker.



 

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