As the world celebrates the 125th anniversary of the release of ‘Dracula’ by Bram Stoker, it is worth taking a few moments to remember the 100th anniversary in 1997 and one of the most overlooked events that commemorated it – namely, the Damned at Dracfest.
It’s safe to say that the band was very much in a transitional phase in 1997. The previous nine years had been easily the most chaotic of the band’s tumultuous career – from the band’s most commercially successful lineup splitting, to the original lineup reforming, to Brian James’ sacking, to the new and much-disputed five-piece band that recorded ‘I’m Alright Jack & The Beanstalk’ and which ended in fiery legal disputes and a total economic washout. When the smoke cleared in 1996 Dave Vanian had gained the rights to the Damned franchise, band kingpin and business brains Rat Scabies was out, and former guitarist and founding member Captain Sensible was back; and augmented by former members of Sensible’s Punk Floyd (Garrie Dreadful on drums and Monty Oxymoron on keyboards) and first Paul Gray and then Patricia Morrison on bass, the band apparently set out to reclaim their reputation – and make a few bob along the way too.
The problem, however, was that post-Scabies life was much more difficult that the band expected, and the musical learning curve for this new formulation of the Damned was far steeper and longer than anyone could have guessed; their performance at Holidays In The Sun in 1996 had been mooted for a video release, but was so bad that all plans were dropped; and rather than repairing their reputation, their live shows if anything simply made it worse. The band often looked bored, sounded drunk, or otherwise unable to play their own material, and the Damned’s credibility was taking a real pummeling during the dark days of 1996-97.
Enter Dracfest – a three-day festival in Stripe’s Farm fields on Whitby’s East Cliff, overshadowed by the Abbey. A bold variation on the now-established Whitby goth festival formula, which invariably used the Spa Pavilion or the Met, it was dedicated entirely to a musical celebration of the Dracula centenary as well as having a more eclectic lineup – with Hawkwind, Arthur Brown, Cathedral. The Stranglers, Marc Almond and more slated to attend. Surely this return to headliner status would be something the Damned could get their teeth into, and it was certainly enough for Vanian to create a limited edition artwork to promote the event. Had the band’s Demeter finally come in? And could the band reconnect with the gothic fanbase which had help underpin their mid-’80s support?
The problems with the event were, unfortunately, obvious. These were the early days of Whitby’s gothic goldrush, and with two Whitby Goth Weekends and a Vamps & Tramps already scheduled for the town in 1997 interest in the idea of goth festivals in the Yorkshire fishing village was already starting to wane. As one reviewer put it, ‘the crowd is pathetic: just a few hundred young goths looking like a stragglers of a species verging on extinction…it is, plainly, a festival too far‘. Bad weather and poor attendance affected cashflow, and the event was already peppered with cancellations and logistical difficulties ahead of the band’s appearance headlining the Friday night.
The event was already running late when the Damned come on stage – technical issues, long changeovers, general chaos. When they do begin it is with a long, portentous organ solo by Monty – a circular, ascending riff which continues for so long that the MC has to intervene to ask the crowd to give him a round of applause. Eventually, the rest of the musicians join him on stage, the Captain promptly falling over, and it is quite clear that the guitarist is absolutely drunk, and his guitar badly out of tune. The thud of the rhythm section as they join in this extended intro only succeeds in making it sound even worse, and that’s before the opening words of the set from Sensible – ‘Ladies & gentlemen….fuck the Pope’.
The band finally crack into ‘Plan 9, Channel 7’, Vanian striding onto the stage in a highwayman’s coat and clearly intent on sucking the occasion dry; the song itself is so slow as to be barely recognisable – like a song running with a broken leg. When it finally concludes, Vanian apologies to the crowd ‘for this late hour’ and the band begin ‘Dozen Girls’ in a blaze of discordancy and good intentions, only for the second verse to almost collapse entirely in a miasma of missed cues and confusion. It can rarely have sounded so awful, the singer awkwardly pacing the stage looking for some sonic handhold to hang onto. As soon as the song is over the various musicians plead for more monitors and, in Captain’s case, a fried egg sandwich. ‘Neat Neat Neat’ begins with Patricia fluffing the intro, before settling into a solid but slow dirge. Opening signs are, suffice to say, not encouraging.
More feedback, more failed tuning, a blast of Hendrix from Sensible, and it’s time for ‘Wait For The Blackout’ to make an entirely apposite appearance, sounding at least like itself – albeit in a mangled and unsubtle form – with vocal harmonies reaching for adequacy. ‘I Just Can’t Be Happy Today’ arrives in much the same manner, formless but just about discernible, and it’s possible to begin to see the faintest outlines of improvement in the performance. Vanian takes his frock coat off. Were the band starting to mean business?
More confusion, more instructions, then ‘Disco Man’ begins sounding like ‘Disco Man’ – easily the best song of the night so far, and the crowd roars approval. Then, rather implausibly, ‘Shadow of Love’ – unperformed in ten years – which looks amazing, but sounds terrible, Captain’s out of tune guitars mangling the thrills in spectacular fashion. ‘Curtain Call’, up next, is even more ambitious and clearly beyond the band’s abilities on this occasion – the intro being formless and seemingly endless. Confusion reigns again at the end, ‘Noise Noise Noise’ being forsaken for ‘Melody Lee’ while the crowd beg them to ‘get the fuck on with it’ – the track, when it arrives, sounds like two songs crashing into each other. When it ends there is yet more confusion as the Captain changes guitars; cue ‘Eloise’, which is basically unlistenable to the extent that Vanian begins laughing even as he’s badly mangling the lyrics – and that the song ends remotely intact is, in itself, a strange form of triumph. But the fact remains that the band are lining up their gothic hits, and more or less blowing every one of them.
Then – disaster. ‘Ten minutes to go!’ declares the MC over the mic, much to Vanian’s disdain who is heard asking ‘What? Why?!‘ A brief period of regrouping – and yet more time wasted by the Captain’s ravings about the Tellytubbies – and the band finally launch into a defiant and more-or-less intact ‘Smash It Up’ , gamely racing for the finish line even as the band’s conviction stars to wane, like a jogger with concrete boots, until it suddenly collides with a version of ‘New Rose’ that has both the correct level of spite and propulsion, and which makes for only the second song of the evening where they hit the correct latitude.
‘Love Song’ begins, Patricia’s bassline building up, and then….nothing. Curfew reached, PA pulled, end of gig achieved. Yes, that’s right – the Damned had had the plug pulled on them. The MC asks the crowd to ‘give it up for The Damned!’, Vanian leaning against the speaker stack with a raised eyebrow, as if in a state of sardonic shock. What a debacle!
The Damned would not perform at Whitby for another 7 years….but when they did, it was a totally different ballgame.
Voodoo Diplomacy 