The Heat
Steve Hooker tells Punk77 about The Heat
Although we might have seemed like late starters, our punk rock moment had been and gone three years previously with The New York Dolls’ first album – no way would we be chasing ’round after another London version or intruding into somebody else’s fashionable scene! I was content to be the pike in the ducking pond until reports from C.B.G.B’s in the (then) great N.M.E. had me going again – if there was enough out there for The Ramones nothing was gonna stop me having a go.
Above photo of Chad and I reasoning with “the old bill” after the plugs had been pulled on The Steve Hooker Band when we played on the roof of Nasty’s (punk boutique). Photo was taken on 4.8.79
The pub band I was in had run its course, I failed to impress at auditions for The Count Bishops and The Motors, then it began to fall together round me – I jammed with a bass player who sort of knew a drummer and my “girlfren” was big on Blondie. Before we even knew it, we were the garage band from hell and we were playing on the back of a truck for Jubilee Day! The guy on the drums didn’t stick around long enough to help us claw out a place upstairs at The Railway Hotel in Southend, alternating with Savage and Sliver on Thursday nights. So when Joe (Jaguar) sat in behind the kit with Nick (bass), Jane (retro organ/vox) and yours truly (guitar/vox) we had a set of sorts with seven or eight originals and mixed in with “96 Tears”, “Pills” and “Rip ‘er To Shreds”.
We didn’t have any success locally outside of The Railway – no other venue would touch a band like us, our Saturday lunch time slot booked in at the Palace Theatre was even cancelled before we had a chance to step on stage and prove how ugly it could get. However, time (like the song says) was on our side, mail order boss Trevor (of Dirty Dicks Records) fancied releasing a punk record and there we were, Wilko Johnson no longer licking his wounds from the bust up with Doctor Feelgood wanted us as support for his 22 date Uk tour too!
Back in Southend with no home phone, no management and hardly a hint of any major record company interest, we were still convinced we could crack it even though tighter, more marketable bands calling themselves “new wave” or “power pop” had learnt by our mistakes. Joe, who had gone back to his day job as a cellarman at Liverpool Street could get into town after work and knocked on a few doors for us. One of these expeditions bore fruit – or a windfall more precisely with a date at the (by now) run down Roxy Club in Covent Garden for 15 quid plus the non negotiable proviso that we could not appear as The Heat to avoid confusion with a newer London band.
Hastily re-christened The Steve Hooker Band we took to the low and dirty stage with our mate Dickie, somebody’s bird and our two top rock chick fans from Brum in tow, then mid raunch between “Little Queenie” and “Let’s Dance” the manager flew on with his safari suit enlightening us that it was “rockenroll” we were playing and shoo’ed us off!
Bravely reverting to our original name, several line up changes saw us through Woodlands Basildon, Bardots Canvey, The Van Gough and The Shrimpers before recording and gigging as The Mystery Girls, The Vampire Lovers and The Steve Hooker Band again. After a break in 1981 I formed The Shakers and played subsequently with Boz And The Bozmen, then Rumble – I guess I’ll be cranking out for a while to go!
Steve Hooker. Southchurch, Essex 2007.
The Heat at the Roxy Club…
We had supported Wilko Johnson on his first post Feelgoods UK tour and released our ep on local independent takeaway records. We woke up to the reality that we needed to book some dates and studio time ourselves if we were to continue since lady luck had turned her attention elsewhere. As our drummer Joe worked in the cellar at the great eastern hotel Liverpool Street and had socialised a bit in the early punk period he was delegated to knock on a few doors. The Roxy Club although past it’s happening phase was on our list.
First he hit us with the good news – he had taken our record there at lunchtime and booked us in HEADLINING and that we would be paid (an unusual courtesy we discovered) £15.00 expenses. However there was one condition, we had to change our name! Another “connected” band from London called the Heat was playing there the week before and under no circumstance would our booking be honoured with our usual tag. After Joe (who had a sense of humour) convinced us that the Sex Pistols and Johnny Thunders played under assumed names so we would be in good company we agreed to be billed as the Steve Hooker Band. We even played in Southend three weeks before using the same moniker as a warm up.
On arrival, we were given the kind of cold shoulder normally reserved for support acts. We were charged admission for Joe’s mate and somebody’s girlfriend because we were only allowed one guest and that would have to be our roadie, then interrogated by Kevin who had arranged the gig with Joe as to why he had given us a headline slot and agreed to pay us! It was a mystery to me, as we might have been happy to have played for the privilege of being there with a name act but not someone you never heard of and someone you never heard of had a nightly residency by then! We were duly introduced to the other two bands booked to open for us – the Features (fresh faced lads with a Keith fixation – a contradiction in itself) and Bad News (who had supported Bernie Torme at the Marquee and wanted the world to know it). Then Kevin hit us with the sucker punch – we couldn’t headline. Another band who were it seemed friends of his were to be the main act. They were Handbag – a gay trio specialising in Ziggy era Bowie covers, all cropped hair, whale herders, leather jackets, rolled up jeans and boots – YMCA drag before it was invented. A good band but not what one would have expected in London’s top punk nighterie!
So we sound checked to even more abuse for having cheap amps and a old drum kit, Bad News did their thing, the Features threw their shapes through “happy” and other “exiles” type pieces then we were shooed onstage. I wouldn’t say our shambling rhythm ‘n’ blues inspiredmore than mild curiosity except from the two red headed Brummie rock chicks who had followed us from the Wilko tour and a couple of junior skinheads that called out stuff during the first two songs, getting the point soon enough that we were used to much worse where were came from and didn’t care.
Halfway through the set, we played Chuck’s “Little Queenie” – that’s when I noticed Kevin at the side of the stage in his white Travolta suit looking agitated though he had taken little notice of us up till then. A couple of songs later, wanting to take it up a bit for the “finale” we did “Let’s Dance” which was well known at that time from the Ramones cover. Everything seemed to be going well – no hint of a bad atmosphere, then Kevin stepped onto the stage and told me, “You’re playing rock ‘n’ roll – you’ll have to stop”. There wasn’t any riot and the people who came to see us and the club regulars all seemed to find it odd.
As Kevin didn’t seem to want to speak to me or deal with me, Joe who had after all negotiated the date followed him down to his office and after fifteen or twenty minutes of haggling came back with our fifteen quid minus the admission for his mate and the other bloke’s bird. It tickles me to tell my rockabilly buddies how we were booted out of the famous London punk club for playing a Chuck Berry tune!
TalkPunk
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