A FLAG IN MY HAND
Fellow Mixed Vege, Nev Harpur, as a property manager for Government Property Services, was responsible for generously allowing The Pagans to practice in the disused Civic Chambers building at 25 Cuba Street. I mean, we had the entire run of the six storey building, right smack in the middle of Wellington.
Constructed in 1927 and now ludicrously expensive inner city apartments, I used to enjoy nothing more than getting stoned and going wandering in the elevator, checking out everything on every floor, although the building was absolutely bereft of any furniture or fittings, the civil servants long gone.
Right across the street was the Columbia Private Hotel (now also ludicrously expensive inner city apartments) and when sordid entertainment was required, we would turn the lights off, smoke another joint and watch the comings and goings of whores and businessmen, who were oblivious to our prying eyes.
When opened for business in 1909, The 75 bedroom Columbia was highly favourable, as it had been built according to the latest in architectural designs, with extensive panoramic views of the city and close to places of principle interest; the wharves and railways.
Clearly, not a lot had changed since the end of WWII, as the establishment (then known as Lloyd’s Hotel) achieved a certain notoriety as a favourite visiting place for United States servicemen. It was widely known that alcohol and ‘other services’ were provided for them. Police considered the hotel to be no more than a brothel. According to the Dominion newspaper, Lloyd’s Hotel was a haven for ‘thieves, known criminals and reputed prostitutes’.
The Pagans video that would eventually become “A Flag in My Hand”, was filmed by Colin McLellan on level three of Civic Chambers and on the rooftop adjacent to the penthouse, overlooking the Columbia Private Hotel.
Drummers had been a bit of a nemesis for The Pagans (as we were now known, the name change instigated early in 1989 by Andrew). I had moved to bass at the exit of Shirley Jones, Adam Gatley (moving up from roadie) took the drummer's seat.
He wasn’t around very long, but did us a favour and agreed to drum on recordings made in March for a QEII Arts Council grant application. We'd decided it was time to have a crack at obtaining some funding to record an LP, a larger work than was normal because we were never short of songs!
The recording venue was ‘Word of Mouth Recording’, at the time in Courtenay Place, owned and operated by Marcus Wilson.
The songs chosen, which means I guess we felt that had the most chance of success were Simon’s “TTFN”, Andrew’s “Van Gogh” and “It’s in Your Eyes”. Culled from final selection were “Special Feeling”, “Dreams of Children” and “Angela”. Of the three selected, “TTFN”, with the most latent commercial appeal was to be the A-side, as it were, but “It’s in Your Eyes”, the oldest and only truly collaborative song among the six, was certainly the most popular of the three in a live capacity.
“Special Feeling” and "Love on a Ledge" were the only Foot High Garden/Pagan compositions to remain on the live playlist from gig one in Waianae, to the final gig at the Carpark Performance Cafe on May 3rd, 1990.
“Dreams of Children” was an Andrew composition and - like many of his - it was made up of several parts. He, at times, would compose in an almost pop/rock prog fashion, which would infuriate Simon, particularly when it meant meddling with his own brilliantly structured pop songs. Insisting that the verses of Simon’s “Do You Remember?” be changed from pop to reggae was one such occasion I recall. It wasn’t so much a bad idea, just unnecessary.
“Angela”, another song with commercial intent, was Andrew’s composition and my lyrics. At the time of writing I was still with Yvonne, so Simon and I perpetrated the myth that he had written the words, so as not to divulge my lyrical infidelity.
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Promotional photograph of The Pagans taken by David Lleon Mitchell of Gnome Productions, circa March, 1989 as part of a QEII Arts Council application for funding to record an LP.
The Pagans proposed LP cover and back cover. Front cover photograph purchased from Evening Post newspaper. Back cover negative strip photographs by David Lleon Mitchell.
The most endearing memory I have of that first recording session with Marcus, was not so much a musical one, but more the moment he enforced upon me a timely culture shift. We took a break to grab some dinner and the poor diet I kept in those days was interrupted briefly, by a trip to the Mt. Vic Cafe on Elizabeth Street.
Marcus re-introduced me to a range of food the like of which I had forgotten since living in Kings Cross, half a decade prior. The delights of Middle Eastern cuisine have been a staple ever since.
It was a Thursday and as an absolute bonus, as we were ordering, Petula Clark was setting up for a gig in the Cafe that evening. As with the change from the western diet I lived on, one didn’t often get a chance to engage international stars up close and personal and a few minutes talking with Petula was very special.
At around the same time, we purchased from Evening Post newspaper, the rights to use a photograph published of a seagull hovering over "Albatross", a sculpture by Tanya Ashken in Frank Kitts Park on the Wellington waterfront. The artwork was constructed in 1986 and now has heritage status.
We would use the image for our proposed LP cover, when pitching at the Arts Council. Six months later, Alf Turner would paint the image onto a huge piece of canvas and that would become our stage backdrop.
Following Gat’s immediate departure, we went through a drummer-less period for a couple of months, which curtailed any gigging that we had planned. Alfie sat in as ‘stunt drummer’ so that my great friend, Colin William McLellan, could at least continue with his video making initiatives, to help with our multi-media package.
I had known Colin since we were eleven year olds, playing school boy rugby for the Brooklyn based Athletic club. In fact, when I started at Wellington College two years later, he was just about the only kid I knew at the school, as I was from out of the zone. We crossed paths a bit, but in our last year, 1979, we were in the same form class, which was indeed the greatest but most bizarre class of my entire school years.
Colin spent most of that year sketching and playing rugby and I, writing song lyrics and playing rugby. He designed my first bands proposed album cover and while the rest of the class were dissecting rats brains, we had already tangented off in a completely different direction.
One of my most indelible memories of life per se, is the final day of High School and Colin and I - in pure, unadulterated, unbounded joy - laughing and singing and leaping in the air, as we ran down the driveway and out of the gates of Wellington College for the very last time.
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Euan is my oldest friend, dating back to 1974, when we ended up together in a class at Intermediate (Evans Bay on Cobham Drive), that was made up of waifs and strays who had arrived during the summer months, once again from out of the zone. My dad, a mortgage lender and Building Society manager, had been transferred from Dunedin to Wellington. Euans father, Squadron Leader Ross McCabe of the RNZAF (aka: the Silver Fox), had arrived with family from Wigram Air Base in Christchurch.
Within weeks of being together in the same Monday-Friday environment, we had listed our own transport company at the EBIS Company's office and had engaged the services of ultra-intelligent class mates to design for us, ocean liners and ludicrously large commercial jet airliners.
If you can't understand that, there is little point me going on to explain further.
Almost a decade later, he randomly said to me one day; "You'll have to meet this guy I work with called Frederick!" His expression then changed to one of admiration, fear, excitement, doubt, panic, intrigue, confusion. "He knows more about the Beatles than we do!"
From that moment on, there were three of us.
Euan and Frederick were both employee's of the ANZ bank and from that moment on, most of my subsequent Friday evenings were spent with them at the Romney Arms at the base of Plimmer Steps, post 'Friday Fives' at the bank that was.
Frederick was indeed a certified Beatle authority, as vindicated by his appearance on 'Mastermind' concerning that exact subject.
We went round to Grass Street and waited for Colin. There were, of course, no cell phones. He had been accidentally locked inside Dransfield House, the old Wellington Arts Centre building on Willis Street, when it had closed at 5pm. A substantial early wooden homestead, built in the Italianate style, Dransfield House is now a 'Category 2' Historic Building. It is named after Joe Dransfield, the first elected Mayor of the Wellington Corporation, who had previously represented Wellington City on the Provincial Council.
Eventually, Colin found a way out through the only window he could find to pry open. But as he was exiting via an old fire escape, he was stopped and questioned by the police, as to what his business was about. Macabre and unfortunate acts such as this titillate Greg’s satirical sense of humour and once the story was recanted, it did very little to appease poor Colin.
But, just as people often speculate as to who the ‘fifth’ Beatle actually was, Colin was the fifth Pagan. He was always up to something. He would be on the mixing desk one gig and then on lights the next. Helping to cart amps when he didn’t really have to and getting us on the card at gigs. Telling us off for being arrogant plonkers was another of his specialties.
He was forever taking photo’s of the band or making video’s for songs. His efforts and passion have ensured that a great record of events and moments in time have been captured forever. I have used a lot of his footage over the years when compiling Pagans video’s, so that his time and energy wasn’t wasted.
His frustrations while he was trying to shoot a video were often not considered, us clowning around and guzzling port in the afternoon while waiting for our cues. But in a purely historical context, everything he was able to capture was gold and as I have kept most of it, it has become essentially invaluable. I/we will be forever in his debt.
When it came to shooting video’s, he always had amazing outdoor locations in mind and some of the footage he captured was outstanding. Central Park in autumn, Brooklyn Hill, Massey Memorial.
Central Park in Brooklyn (less familiar to many than the famous park of the same name in New York City), is one of Wellington’s oldest public green spaces. Dating back to 1913, it’s formation was connected to social, political and urban concerns regarding the impact of overcrowding and the development of inner city slums.
Initially the site doubled as a nursery, where seedlings for planting on the Green Belt and around the city were propagated. By 1914, the 13 hectares of Central Park contained about 30,000 cuttings of exotic and native trees. Press reports reveal that during the 1920s and 1930s, the park also functioned as a place where lovers met and prostitutes worked.
75 years on, with wrought irons gates, derelict bridges and dreamy meadows, it was a most glorious location for filming amongst the golden oak leaves of May.
Massey Memorial, at Point Halswell, commemorates William Ferguson Massey, Prime Minister of New Zealand from 1912 until his death in 1925. It was built by Hansford and Mills Construction, also responsible for Parliament Buildings and the Mount Victoria Tunnel. The exterior of the memorial was laid with a base of Coromandel granite covered with Kairuru marble from the Company's own quarry near Takaka, which made for a stunning locale.
Colin's hand painted LP cover for my first band, Jade. It was to be called "At the Rivers Edge", which ironically would also end up being the title of a Pagans song, after Simon had lifted some of the original lyrics to fit the chorus of a new song.
Ten years on, his first video venture for The Pagans was to use the interior of Civic Chambers and we shot some footage on level 3 (Simon throwing and smashing a port bottle against an inner wall) and on the rooftop, one level up from where we usually practiced.
One of my favourite shots was of Simon running down an interior stairwell and grabbing a fire hose on a red reel on his way past. The shot then cut to a red cable running across the linoleum floor and up into the jack of a guitar.
One evening, while finishing a video for “It’s In Your Eyes”, Colin instructed myself, Simon and our two new roadies, Frederick Olivier Bourgeois Warhol Williscroft and Euan James McCabe, to go around to his flat in Grass Street, Oriental Bay and wait for him. He said his flat mate would let us in. That was the night we all first met Gregory Pugh, then lead singer and lyricist for The Playschool Arsonists.
I had recently split from my partner of eighteen months, Yvonne Davie, and had turned a little immaturely septic about it. But no sooner had she left, when - out of the blue - back into my life came another two of my oldest and dearest friends. My juvenile woes were soon forgotten.
Massey Memorial at Point Halswell (left) and Central Park, Brooklyn (right) two of the locations chosen by Colin to shoot his video for "It's in Your Eyes". In the middle is Dransfield House, where Colin was questioned by to the Police following an unfortunate incident when he was locked in the building.
All in all though, we did a seriously grand job of abusing Nev’s wonderful gesture of allowing us to use Civic Chambers (rent free), by trashing it, and holding court via parties or gatherings. We were unceremoniously turfed out by his successor, a guy named Pete Bartell, who would then get drunk at parties and accuse us of coming on to his partner, Sarah.
With the Chambers lost, we set up camp for the winter months, in the cold, dank basement above the motorway at 87 Hill Street and worked on new songs; “Burning (Out of Control)”, “I Can’t See You Again” and “It’s In My Head” among them.
"Burning" was a personal favourite of mine. Largely an Andrew composition, the three of us each wrote a verse for this sort of new wave rocker, which had a great keyboard part played by Simon. "I Can't See You Again" was the first Dibble-McRae 'kitchen job, a boy/girl pop song and "It's In My Head" - always popular live - was described by Simon at the last Carpark gig as "basically a three chord thrash", but it proved that we could rock hard.
It was another Hill Street connection, Denis Brown, who was responsible for introducing us to Martin Quennell, whom he knew from his days growing up in Johnsonville. Martin was planning a trip to the UK with his partner, Cushla, but agreed to stand in as drummer, until we found one prepared to join the band on a full-time basis, which enabled us to continue on and look for more gigs.
Buoyed on by this, Colin was out snapping new pics of the band. He chose a yellow wall in Rugby Street, Newtown (the depot of NZ Couriers), a house in Brown Street, just off Adelaide Road, which had been recently destroyed by fire and the alley way beside the St. James Theatre on Courtenay Place.
The Pagans - complete with new drummer, Martin Quennell - the focus of Colin's great camera eye once again.
We put some pressure on Frederick to have a party in his suburban living room, at #47 Creswick Terrace, Northland. Finally relenting to the pressure, the first gig with Martin then, took place on June 10th. Everything went very well. There were no noise complaints from neighbours, punters enjoyed themselves and the band.
Simon and I particularly, had struck up a great friendship with Greg Pugh, that would eventually lead to his moving into our flat in St Mary Street, Thorndon. But all The Accelerants (or Playschool Arsonists as they were known when we first met them) were great guys and they were a particularly fine band.
We both had a great deal in common. Not so much musically, but the predicament we were in, attempting to get some gigs happening and trying to find a way forward to fuel common dreams. It wasn’t long before we were discussing self-organised, double gigs, the first of which took place at the Brooklyn Northern United FC Clubrooms in Bell Road, on July 8th, a Saturday night.
Colin had organised the venue, principally with The Arsonists and we swanned in on the ticket. Greg whipped up a poster and both bands invited everyone they could think of for several reasons, not the least being to fill the place and therefore negate any likely trouble, as (being a football club) the venue was a renowned skinhead hang out.
Colin had actually put up $500 of his own money to float it, but amazingly broke even, or would have if he hadn’t had to shell out $120 each, to two bouncers who threatened to break his legs if they weren’t paid.
We arrived early to set up (or most likely we were late and others were later still) to find the place locked up. Rather than wait it out, Andrew went round the back of the building to see if he could find a way inside. He forced a corrugated iron door open and went in, eventually unlocking the front entrance to let the rest of us and gear in.
Ten minutes later, by which time we were all involved in a game of pool, an irate skinhead called Mark Wright (covered in West Ham United tattoo’s) entered the venue screaming; “which one of you fuckers fuckin’ broke in?” Scared shitless, I had absolutely no compunction what-so-ever in dobbing Giff in. I can still see myself pointing the finger and saying; “It was him!” I’m not all together sure that Giff didn’t crap himself either.
Andrew was a smooth talker and luckily for all of us, was able to appease the situation. He had set off a silent alarm and Mark had been called to the venue to check it out, finding a bunch of pretentious pretty boys parading around giggling, no doubt the port already freely flowing.
Amazingly, the gig went pretty well from my point of view, but in hindsight, is probably best described by a comment Colin made some 15 years later; “It’s all about the symbiosis of the bands and their names and the sort of people you want turning up. How else do you run a gig when you have skinheads that turn up and start urinating in the corner of your venue?”
Frederick says; “The thing about the BNU gig was those fuck wit skinheads jumping up and down on the dance floor, clearly meaning to intimidate all us nice people. It worked as we all vacated it, not wanting to get involved in an altercation. It ruined the vibe in many ways as everyone was getting into the groove and the bands were humming. Then after the gig was over one of them just pissed in the corner. I was annoyed at the anti social behaviour of these miscreants.”
The following day The Pagans were late to arrive to pick up their gear and had managed to avoid any of the cleaning up, leaving it all to Colin and The Arsonists. Colin, rightly so, was irate. So much so, that a day or so later we all received a three-page, hand written (and photocopied) dossier, all along the lines of professionalism and expectation. Every point made was a valid one.
The letter set Greg off again however, when he came across a copy of it a few days later. I found him rolling on the floor of The Arsonists practice room, laughing his tits off at the bit which read; “Carl. You are using drugs and alcohol far too freely. YOU ARE NOT JIM MORRISON!”
“You fuckin’ are,” he said, “at least, you are OUR Jim Morrison.”
(Top) The poster for the gig at Brooklyn Northern United FC in Bell Road, Brooklyn, designed by Greg Pugh.
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(Middle) The faithful road crew arrive at the venue in Martin's Escort van; Euan, Frederick, Simon, Neil and myself.
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On stage during the gig (above), with Frederick on the mixing desk and Colin on lights.
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(Below) Simon, Frederick and Euan enjoy a pint.
Back at Hill Street, winter rolled on in the basement and with it more new songs; “Life Inside a Jar” and “A Flag in My Hand”.
“Life Inside A Jar” was started by Simon, who debuted it with the compositional structure already down and the first verse and chorus. His initial ideas were concerning the goings on in his drama class at Otumoetai College in Tauranga, but lyrically it took a left turn when we finished the rest of the verses together. It was (which were generally Simon’s melodies and my words), the second ‘Dibble-McRae’ kitchen job, so named as that’s where they were usually put together. Numbers one and two were written in the kitchen at 72 Salamanca Road.
“A Flag in My Hand”, which would go on to be probably our most recognisable song, was largely an Andrew and Simon composition. I arrived at their flat in Kelburn one evening, tossed a line in and the song was complete.
The success of Frederick’s party led to a brace more at the same venue and on the second and third occasions, we double gigged with The Arsonists. The last, on August 26th, was so big that party goers were unable to get inside the house, where it was so hot that those attempting to escape simply spewed back out into the street.
Excitement was high during the week leading up to the gig. A woman I worked with, Buella Anderson, had purchased three Pagans T-Shirts from me (we didn’t have websites in those days), one each for herself and two daughters, 18 and 16. Buella was in her late 40’s and for want of a better term, was somewhat of a strange fish.
The cavernous downstairs lounge, which had been red lit and transformed again into a make-shift band venue, was literally pumping. Both bands played hard in the frenzied vault, the highly charged atmosphere hanging on the cutting edge of a gilded blade. Everyone was letting go and having a great time of it.
All except Frederick’s flat mate and future TV3 News Reporter, Diane O’Connell, that is, who sat in her room reading a book, in denial that there was a rollicking party going on around her. Giff and Frederick had a wager on what time she would go to bed, as she often retired early. In his usual swine-like fashion, Andrew had cynically forewarned her that the bet was on, so - although not prepared to leave her room - she deliberately stayed up late to piss Frederick off.
Frederick’s bedroom, which was off the lounge, was our green room or back stage area and it was to there that we retreated after the gig. It was a decent sized room and initially there were around ten people in there, enjoying a quiet drink and a joint. A young photographer named Sally, a friend of a friend, took that evening - in that room - one of the best photo’s of the band throughout our time.
One guest who did make it inside was yet another "Mixed Vege", Geoff Beavis, a young and ambitious pub manager, who was running things at the Western Park Tavern in Thorndon. Opened in 1870 (as The Shepherd’s Arms), it is one of the City’s oldest pubs.
The original hotel was a popular stop for local coaches, where travellers could get ‘refreshments’ and horses could be re-shod in the nearby Leyden’s Shoeing Forge. In more modern times, the Western Park Tavern, at least the public bar, was a popular student drinking haunt.
Geoff instantly expressed an interest in hiring both bands to gig in “Gillespie’s Bar”, the establishments lounge facility, which he intended to transform into a live entertainment venue, featuring originals bands.
I’m not all that certain that the Breweries took kindly to him turfing out Peter Leef, who literally packed the place on a Friday night with his MOR covers and replacing him with a pretty-boy pop/rock outfit. But having caught our act at that last of Frederick’s trilogy of parties, Geoff was prepared to hire us and take any fallout on the chin.
Sally's photograph of The Pagans with Frederick, back stage following the third and final Accelerants-Pagans gig at #47 Creswick Terrace in Northland.
This has been long acknowledged as one of the great photographs of the entire FHG/Pagan era, circa 1988-90.
Peter Leef was from Blenheim and was an original member of Creation in 1968, well before they took out the 1972 Loxene Gold Disc award for “Carolina”, also the biggest selling New Zealand single the same year. His older brother Barry was a member of The Simple Image.
Peter went out to the Airport bar and The Pagans prepared to cram onto the tiny stage in “Gillespie’s Bar” to deliver up our set of original pop/rock songs. We had to wait a week or two longer than anticipated while the stage was finished and decor changed, but our first gig was on Saturday, September 23rd, 1989.
The Pagans on stage during the third and final gig at Frederick's in Northland. August 26th, 1989.
When we took to the stage, the place was absolutely packed. Four or five songs in, the bar was empty and all the disgruntled bankers and government workers from down the road in Lambton Quay, who had turned up to get liquored and sing along to “American Pie” had all left, disgusted.
It took The Pagans a month or two to build our own following, but all our friends were heavy drinkers, so takings must never have been an issue for Geoff, who really went out on a limb giving us a residency in the first place. It was a very brave call.
But for us, it was great. Regular gigs were desirable, as was playing in a pub. Up until that point, like most bands around Wellington (that were popping up like daisies in suburban garages), there were only these private parties and self-organised gigs on offer.
At around the same time as we debuted at the Western Park, for sheer convenience sake, Simon, Giff and I made the move to 15 St. Mary Street, Thorndon.