Jobs For a Change Festival. Jubilee Gardens, London 1984.
Right in the heart of the GLC, across the Thames from Thatcher’s Parliament, a day of music and speechifying. 3 million unemployed. Bad. USAF Cruise missles. Bad. Nuclear Bombs. Bad. Miners Strike. Bad. Red Ken spoke as usual. Nerdy but down to earth. Missed the Red Skins and heard there’d been a riot with 200 skinheads storming the stage. Broken glass still on the floor. Hank Wangford there doing his songs about jogging with Jesus down Life’s long highway. First time I saw Billy Bragg or rather craned to peer into a jammed tent. The Smiths were starting to get big and this was a big gig. All eyes on them. Morrissey all floppy quiff with the ear piece and gladioli sticking out his back pocket. Not the full PA loudness and apart from a few riffs it didn’t do it for me. The lyrics make funny reading but it didn’t Rawk. Call me shallow. There’s always been something end-of-the-pier about our Stephen. Catholic demons too. A camp Nick Cave. Mari Wilson was uplifting with her beehive and doo-wop girls. Like the Darts only less panto.