The Whole Truth Behind 

"The Running Sores"

 

By

Dennis Munday

 

The rock and pop scene of the early seventies did very little for me. At the time Punk erupted, I was Polydor’s Jazz A & R manager, and spent most of the time listening to Jazz music. I have to be truthful and admit, I wasn’t sure about the burgeoning 'New Wave' scene. Yes, the Pistols and the Clash were great, and on the cutting edge of a new generation’s music, but there seemed to be just a few diamonds scattered amongst the glass. This had nothing to do with my age, or that the music was for a new generation of teenagers

 The seventies, were hard times for a teenager to grow up in, there wasn’t the availability of jobs around as there was in the sixties when I left school. They became part of a 'lost generation', which was not necessarily of their own making, or desire. I was genuinely saddened by the plight of many fans I came across, who saw the world as clam. I recall one Jam fan telling me, when I insisted he had a future, “what fucking future, the dole queue”! Here was a generation abandoned, adrift in sea of confusion and futility - this was their Modern World. Their attitude was fuelled by the politics of the day, this was the Thatcher era. It was a time when some asshole of a politician told you to, 'get on your bike and move away', because you couldn’t find a job in your city or town. Never mind about your family and friends, or your community. This youth movement was anti establishment, and it showed in their attitude, they wanted to be ‘orrible!

 To most, the whole New Wave movement was completely alien, the way they dressed, and most of all, there don’t give a fuck attitude. The music was played too loud and too fast. They weren’t in tune with what was happening, and to them it was just a wall of noise. Nevertheless, this new youth culture went on to indelibly stamp its mark on society. The punks wanted their music, their fashions, and to walk their walk, and talk their talk, just as previous generations had.

 The record business was also indifferent to this new wave of music. It was only by the sheer weight of a new teenage generation, who wanted it, and wanted it badly. This left the record companies no choice, but to jump on the bandwagon. I remember how negative people at Polydor were about this genre of music. There was a superior attitude when discussing Punk, with comments muttered in smoked filled meetings, like; 'it won’t last five minutes, and they won’t be around for long'.

 It wasn’t the Pistols or the Clash that turned me on to this music, it was the Damned’s debut single, 'New Rose', and I vividly recall, the moment I heard it. It was a Saturday morning, I was in my kitchen listening to the Kid Jensen show on Radio1, and he announced he would be playing their new single. It took me by surprise, up to that moment it was only the likes of John Peel, Mike Reed and Janice Long, who played punk records, and only in the evenings. No one had dared to give this music an airing during the day! From the opening intro, paying homage to the old sixties record, 'Leader Of The Pack’ by the Shangri La’s, I was hooked. I loved Brian James wonderful slashing guitar riffs, the throbbing drums, Dave Vanian’s strident vocals. I thought, 'what the fuck is this', and bought the single the following Monday!

 Like everyone else in the world, I’d always dreamt of being the lead singer in a famous band and gave it large in the bathroom. There is only one problem, I have a shitty voice - trust me, I was an A & R man, I know these things. However, I never gave up hope, that one day an opportunity would arise where I would be able to hear my voice on a record. In December 1976, a chance presented itself, and I grasped the microphone with both hands.

 Sometime around September or October, just for fun, I wrote a couple tracks, 'I’m A Punk Star' and the articulate [like a lorry], 'Me Brain Done Hurt'. I gave the lyrics to a colleague, Bob Clifford who came up with the music. Bob was a very clever musician, and later went on to further fame, playing with Rolf Harris, covering Led Zeppelin classics. The remainder of the group consisted of, Steve Walters, Steve Bywaters [both studio engineers] and Tim Chacksfield, a product manager. We decided, when the right moment occurred, we would record the two songs for posterity.

 This chance came when we attended the Polydor Xmas party, and we, decided this was the appropriate time. Although we’d, drunk a fair bit, we were not so pissed that we couldn’t make a fair crack at recording the two songs. We skinned up a few joints and the rest is history.

 When we played the tracks to our colleagues at Polydor, they went down a storm. David Hughes, the head of press, asked for 500 promo singles to be manufactured. He said, “We can give them away to the music press, they’ll love it.” It was getting better and better, we hadn’t thought about getting a single pressed - we were happy just recording them. I cut the lacquers and sent them to our factory in Leytonstone, and ordered 500 promo discs, and awaited the arrival of the Sores debut single. However, unlike the ‘A’ team, nothing in my life ever goes to plan!

At the time, EMI’s pressing plant had refused to manufacture the Sex Pistols, 'Never Mind the Bollocks' album, owing to the title and content of the songs. Never mind that it was on the cutting edge of a vibrant new music scene, a handful of [old] men and women had decided, through sheer ignorance, to censor this record. The music business supposedly prides itself on being a trendy, forward looking, and a hip industry. Along came a type of music that doesn’t fit into the norm, and what do they do? They try to suppress it! The [free] publicity this action caused was responsible for putting the Pistols, and Punk music in every tabloid newspaper, and on everybody lips.

 They wanted to ban the Pistols LP, even though many had never heard a single track. At the time conservative, middle-aged men were running the industry, and had forgotten what it was like to be a teenager. These execs were tied to their mortgages and pension funds, and frequenting their trendy clubs, snorting coke, smoking joints and quaffing alcohol by the bucketful. Whilst over indulging in their own pastimes, they were [over] moralising about the new wave scene. When Punk finally established itself, many of these so called 'hip' people found themselves out in the cold. In the music business, you have to move with the times or pay the price - everything must change, whether you liked it or not.

Several days later, I received a call from the manager of the pressing plant, a dour northerner with no sense of humour. He informed me he couldn’t agree to press the single. I asked [genuinely innocently], “why”? He replied, “There’s a lot of swearing on the tracks and it might upset the girls in QC” [quality control]. I gave this some thought and said, “Ok, as we only want a small quantity of discs, press them up, and forget about QC.” He replied frostily, “I am still not happy about the content, and I will not sanction the pressing of this single'. I pointed out, this wasn’t his concern; the factory was there to manufacture records for the operating companies. I then went on to say, which may have been a mistake. “The girls in QC go behind the bike sheds most lunchtimes doing exactly what I am singing about. The factory is in Leytonstone, not Kensington or Chelsea, and they’re not exactly vestal virgins.” This only ruffled his feathers further, and he continued to pontificate on the matter. By this time, I’d had enough, and as I had enough pips to overrule him, I told him; “Just press 500 copies, nobody in the factory needs to listen to it and send them to me personally.” I put the dog and bone down thinking this was the end of the matter, not realising the storm clouds were gathering.

 A couple of days later I was summoned to a meeting with the managing director, Freddie Haayen, who told me there was no way the single would be pressed. It turned out the manager of the factory got in touch with his boss in Germany, who informed Freddie’s boss of the content of the single. Freddie was categorically told, 'the single mustn’t be pressed under any circumstances'! He was ok about it, he could see I wasn’t happy and reflected, “Dennis, it’s more than my jobs worth to let it go ahead, I’m sorry but it can’t be pressed.” Freddie at the time had made every effort to sign the Sex Pistols, but his German bosses stepped in and he was forbidden to sign them. After all, you wouldn’t want the Pistols on the same label as, James Last, Andrew Lloyd Wobbler, Klaus Wunderlich, and Bert Kaempfert. Das ist nicht gut!

 Because of this old fogey, my chance to be enshrined on vinyl had disappeared, and I informed the other Sores. After a short conference, it was decided that Steve Bywaters and I would come in on Saturday, run off cassette copies, and distribute them ourselves. We sent a tape to everyone we knew in the record business and the music press, and there were several 'mentions in dispatches'. There was even a favourably review in Melody Maker. However, it wasn’t the same as having a proper single, and we were disappointed.

 For decades, the music business has tried to censor and vilified the new voices of music, and New Wave was no different. Elvis Presley suffered over his gyrating hip swinging. The Rolling Stones, where I recall one headline stated, 'would you want one of your daughters to marry one of the Stones'? The Pistols I’ve already mentioned, Frankie Goes To Hollywood having 'Relax' banned by the BBC radio, and the fuss over Liam Gallagher and I could write tomes about [hardcore] rap music. The Running Sores are in good company, and I am proud to be a part of this group!

 I am glad Punk music happened, I went onto to work with The Jam, Sham 69, The Wall and Siouxsie and The Banshees. It certainly changed my life, and what’s more, it turned the music business upside down!

 If any of you want to sing-a-long with the tunes, here are the lyrics. So it’s, never mind the bollocks, or the Sex Pistols,

it’s The Running Sores........

 

I’m A Punk Star

 I’m A Punk Star
And I fight and I swear
I wear silly clothes
And I don’t give a fuck
 
We all dance like loons
And have heads like balloons
‘cause we bang ‘em so hard
But we don’t give a shit
 
I’m A Punk Star
Punk Star, Punk Star
I’m a fucking punk star
 
Shitbag's me name
Shitbags me nature
If there’s no dustbin liners
I’ll shit in your mouth
 
I’m A Punk Star
(shut up)
I’m A Punk Star
(shut up)
I’m A Punk Star(shut up)I’m a fucking punk star
 
Not very bright
Really quite dim
Don’t Give a shit
So stick this in your fucking bin
 
I’m A Punk Star
(shut up)
I’m A Punk Star
(fuck off)
I’m A Punk Star
(piss off)
I’m A Fucking Punk Star
(Yeah)
 
I’m A Punk Star
I’m A Punk Star
I’m A Punk Star

 

Punk Star Punk Star
I’m A Punk Star

 

Me Brain Done Hurt

 

It hurts me so much
Right down to me crutch
It’ll have to come out
But it hurts me so much
 
Pain in my head
Maybe I’m dead
I bash it so hard
‘cause it’s made out of fucking wood
 
We come out of the gutter
My clothes are all rotten
I smell like a skunk
Which sums up Chris Parry
 
It hurts me so much
Right down to me crutch
It’ll have to come out
But it hurts me so much
I know I can’t sing
I know I can’t play
You may think I’m a cunt
But Mum me brain done hurt
 
I come out of the gutter
My clothes are all rotten
I smell like a skunk
Which sums up Chris Parry
 
It hurts me so much
Right down to me crutch
It’ll have to come out
But it hurts me so much
 
Oh Me brain done hurt
Me brain done hurt
Me brain done hurt
Me brain done hurt


 

 

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