London Symphonies - Ghosts of North London's music pubs

 Do you love a good Ghost story? I do, however every ghost story starts with a tragedy.  Ghosts? What are ghosts? Dead People? Trapped memories? Spirits that were not ready to move on? Spirits that took a wrong turn and didn't quite make it away? Vibrations stuck in the fabric of buildings? As the False Dots (my band) reach our 46th year, I was pondering the places we play. I was idly thinking of doing a pub crawl through London, visiting pubs we've played at. I got to thinking about the music pubs on the Thameslink route that we played and what a great pubcrawl that could be. Jump on a train from Mill Hill and simply get off at each station on the way. I scoured my scrapbook for the first time we played at each of the stops and at what venue.

Hendon - The Midland Hotel - 20th Dec 2014

Cricklewood - The Cricklewood Hotel - 30th November 1985

West Hampstead - The Moonlight Club - 7th March 1982

Kentish Town - The George IV  - 7th Jan 1984

I then, rather sadly realised that all of these gigs have gone. Any pub crawl would be simply to commune with the ghosts of these venues. If ghosts are vibrations, would any trace of those amplified blasts remain in the brickwork? What were these venues like

The Midland Hotel, Hendon

A pub with a long association with my family. My grandfather would collect glasses in the pub and be paid in beer during the second world war. Being next to the station, and the active goods yard, the pub was a convenient watering hole for rail workers and others using the station. When my Grandfather died in 1948, the whole pub turned up at the funeral. As my Grandmother didn't drink and hadn't been to the pub she announced that she'd never realised that he had any friends. Grandfather lived on the Watling Estate and would take the tram down to Hendon, then walk up the hill. Much has changed.

Live at 
The Midland Hotel
2019

Move on to 2014. The False Dots had morphed into a four piece and were looking for a local gig, Our drummer Graham Ramsey had been drinking in the pub with his other band and suggested we played an Xmas gig with them. I knew of the family link, but had not been in the pub, despite it's easy access on the Thameslink railway from Mill Hill. The pub was a big, spacious pub with several bars and an ideal space for bands. The then guvnor, John, liked music and we dragged a good crowd down. This started a long association and made me speak to family members about Grandad's links. By this time, only my Aunty Audrey was still alive. All she could really recall was my Grandmothers loathing of the pub, as my Irish Grandfather came home bladdered every night and died young as a result of this and being gassed in the trenches. 

The band played ten or so gigs there  the last one being on the Friday13 February 2019. This was the night after Boris Johnson was elected. I didn't realise that this would be the end of our associaton. The pandemic did for the pub and it is now up for sale. The pub was also closely associated with The Barnet Eye blog, as we used it as the venue for the Barnet Eye Awards. When I played at the Midland, I always felt that there were more eyes on me than there were punters in the pub. Developers were circling, we fought them off, gaining an asset of community value status in 2018, when we held a celebration party, playing to a packed house, I felt my Grandfather's eyes on me, nodding approvingly. I wrote a song with Allen in 1985, dedicated to my grandfather. It was called Blue Soldier. Allen added and changed a few lines, then added a brilliant middle poetic section, based on the poetry style of the great war poets, such as Wilfred Owen. Playing this to the ghost of my grandfather, in his local, was one of those moments when it felt like being in a band was more than just strumming my guitar. 

It seems to me that it was very appropriate that this was our final gig with Allen Ashley in the pub where my Grandfather worked. I am just sorry we didn't do Blue Soldier that night. Allen is a poet and he was rather keen on 1st world war poets. If I ever become wealthy enough to make a feature film, I will make one called Blue Soldier about my Grandfather. He passed away in 1948, so I never met him. Apparently he went to war a proud and compassionate man and came back a bitter alcoholic, who saw out his days working in the Midland Hotel. I have seriously thought of spray painting the outline of a WWI soldier on the side of the pub for Remembrance Sunday, with a poppy coming out of his rifle, in dark blue paint on several occasions. Maybe I will before they knock it down. 

The Cricklewood Hotel.

Around 1985, the Cricklewood Hotel was a vibrant centre for alternative bands. Cult bands such as Ozric Tentacles were playing for promotors such as  Dead Dog promotions. It was a big pub with a decent sized stage and a loyal following of punters. Such venues soon became targets for aspiring bands to play, you always felt that when you played at a "happening venue", there was a chance of greater things. 

The False Dots first 'big London gig' for over a year occurred on 30th November 1985, at the Cricklewood hotel. The band had fallen apart in late 1984, with the departure of Venessa Sagoe and the rest of the band. I'd spent a year writing new material, dealing with health and personal problems and had recruited Graham Ramsey on Drums and poet Allen Ashley on vocals. As a temporary measure, former Dots keyboard player Chris Potts stood in on bass. 

It was a big gig, with a good audience. Many of our friends came. Most remember the gig as the night that the stage collapsed beneath me and I ended up in a pile of beer crates on the floor. My guitar was broken in the process, but I had a spare. After the show, a member of one of the other bands sneered "Everyone will remember THAT for a long time". I shot back "Yeah, well no one will remember you after five minutes".  That was very much The Dots view. We wanted to be remembered.  The Cricklewood hotel was a fine building. It has been reincarnated as the Shisha Garden Grill, which in some ways mirrors the changing face of London. I wonder what happens to the ghosts in pubs, when they become Shisha grills? Do a whole new team of ghosts move in. 

The Moonlight Club, West Hampstead.

The Moonlight club was a proper music venue. It was at the Railway Pub in West Hampstead. Upstairs had been Klooks Kleek, a venue at the hearty of the 1960's blues explosion. I discovered it in 1977, seeing punk and new wave bands such as The Damned and The Monochrome Set there. As we were forming the False Dots, it was myself and Pete Conway's spiritual home. We'd bunk onto the train at Mill Hill and sneak out at West Hampstead, although in truth, there was rarely anyone there. 

There were many shenanigans. Our song Not all she seems had it's genesis when Pete chatted up someone that we'd now label as pre op trans. Pete didn't realise at the time. In those less enlightened times, we found it hilarious, he didn't. Oddly though, we turned it into a very sympathetic song about someone who has issues with gender identity and didn't fit in. I got to know the central character, and it is fair to say that she didn't live happily ever after. What happened was tragic.  The song had a life of its own, as we had no concept of such issues, but it does stand up. We still play it 45 years later. On a couple of occasions, I've felt her presence in the audience, at peace, happy, accepted, but still loving rock and roll. Music is a spiritual thing and often music reconnects me with people who have passed. Can ghosts come from the future to inform us? Dickens thought so, who am I to argue. 

When the Dots first played the Moonlight club back in March 1982, we were just back from a tour of Sweden. It seemed to us to be the moment we had made it. Being on a stage where I'd seen The Damned, to a packed house, seemed like vindication for everything we had done. We were in a state of flux, but it was a great gig and we got asked back several times. Perhaps the funniest time was when we played with a band from Dublin called Tokyo Olympics. The lead singer was an associate of Shane Macgowan and later in The Pope's with him. He had bad case of Rockstaritus. The band wouldn't let us share the dressing room and were horrible to us. They even detuned our instruments. Luckily, we knew how to tune them back. We'd brought the audience and they departed with us after the first song. We adjourned next door. Our bassplayer, Paul Hircombe, had exacted revenge. He had been through their possessions and nicked all their dope and all of their cash. He arrivrd in the pub announcing that Karma had struck. 

The Railway pub is still there, but the Moonlight has long gone. I miss it. When I visit, I feel those ghosts still. In some ways, I find pubs that have been refurbished and stripped of their soul even more depressing than closed, demolished pubs. When Pete Conway was in the band, he worked for Dewhurst Butchers on Broadhurst Avenue, opposite DECCA studios. I'd meet him for a pint and we'd spin tracks on the Jukebox. The pub had a music vibe. Now it is a football pub, I'd quite like it if it didn't burn a hole in my soul going in there

The George IV, Kentish Town

And on to Kentish Town.  The George IV. Some things haven't changed, then as now Camden Town was the heart of the London music scene. Bands love to play Camden Town. In early 1984, the False Dots were in what was perhaps their most accomplished phase. We had an amazing singer in Venessa Sagoe. We had put together a tight set and we could blow away an audience. We'd done a few gigs and wanted to get into the Camden circuit. Our then drummer, Adam Francis announced that he'd got us a gig in Camden. We were delighted. He told us that his uncle owned a pub and was looking for bands to put on. We were all quite excited. The band was rehearsing three times a week and felt that we were really getting things together. We made arrangements to play. At the time, our mate Dermot Fanning would borrow a van from another mate, Emil Bryden. We'd pile in with all the gear and make our way down. We'd put the word around. A few days before the gig, Adam mentioned that the pub was nearer Kentish Town than Camden. No worries. 

On the day in question, we all piled in. We got the address and I navigated. When we got near Kentish Town, I realised that the pub wasn't on the main road, where most of the places I knew were. I directed Derm to the pub, in Willes Road, in between Kentish Town and Kentish Town West station, in amongst the back streets. There was another band on. I don't recall much about them, other than they were rather unfriendly towards us and were quite sharp dressers. We were headlining, they laughed as we shambled in from our VW camper van. We set up, the sound man checked levels and we belted out a couple of songs. They stopped laughing. I was really fed up with the whole thing. The pub was very old fashioned and not at all Rock and Roll. The guvnor, Adam's uncle, was friendly, gave us beers and a few chips. These days, I'd love it. Back then, I wanted to play cool rock and roll venues. 

The Landlord had put a lot of work into promoting the gig. A decent crowd turned up and many enjoyed the set. In hindsight, it was a masterstroke. We played Dingwalls a month later and many of the patrons came down. I was a bit too much of a musical snob to enjoy a gig in an old fashioned boozer back then. It was a nicotine stained brown, the carpets brown, the windows brown. Back in 1984, the pub felt as if it was inhabited by ghosts, locals smoking roll ups and making wisecracks. The average age of the regulars seemed to be about 100 years old. There was a beaten up old piano in the corner. One of the regulars told me that they missed Bert, who used to come in and play it on a Saturday night. They were not too sure about our sort of music. At the time, we did a cover of  "When a man loves a woman" by Percy Sledge in the set. They all got up and danced. The guvnor told us that if we did more covers like that (it was the only one), he'd give us a regular gig.  

I haven't been back since. If I hadn't noted it in my scrapbook, I'd not have remembered the pub. I looked it up on Google a few months ago. I thought I might like to see how it's fared. It has been closed for a couple of years. 

It seems to me to be tragic that I can jump on Thameslink and do a pubcrawl of closed music pubs. Maybe, it's the perfect pub crawl for dry January!

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I should add that London still has some amazing grassroots venues. The False Dots are lucky enough to have a residency at The Dublin Castle in Camden Town. We made this little video to celebrate this wonderful venue