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| John's Children VS. The Who 1967 |
In April 1967 John's Children embarked on a German tour in support of Track label mates The Who. This tour is an essential (and the most infamous) chapter of the story of John's Children's short but explosive '60s heyday so let's have a closer look...
The Who/John's Children West Germany April 1967 tour dates:
Friday 7 April The groups arrive in Essen.
Saturday 8 April Messehalle, Nuremburg.
Sunday 9 April Thalia-Theater, Wuppertal
Monday 10 April Jaguar-Club, Herford.
Tuesday 11 April Rheinhalle, Düsseldorf.
Wednesday 12 April Friedrich-Ebert-Halle, Ludwigshafen.
The gig on the 12th was the infamous one where John's Children caused a full scale riot. To understand the full extent of the mayhem one must read Dave Thompson's book about the band John's Children (a.k.a. Growing Up With John's Children) or at least track down and read the interview Andy and Chris gave to Shindig! Magazine.
Here's Andy's comments about the gig from the booklet of the Smashed Blocked! CD: "A few dates into the tour, rumblings were coming back from The Who camp, regarding us going down too well, stating that we were creating a highly charged atmosphere among the crowd and making it hard for The Who to come on and play. Kit Lambert had a heated argument with our manager at a restaurant in Cologne. In the Bentley on our way to the next gig at the 12,000 capacity Massehalle in Ludwigshafen, Simon told us gravely 'Kit says if you do that again you're off the tour'. We though if we don't do it there's no point in playing, and if we do it we're off, 'so let's do it!' Marc thrashed his guitar with chains, Chris thundered out his tribal beat, John and I fought on stage, throwing ourselves into the audience, where I ran amok, tossing pillows of feathers and chased by irate security guards. Suddenly the auditoriumn erupted, with chairs flying everywhere and there was a huge surge to the stage. Some were trying to hug us and the rest, mainly nazi style bouncers, were intent on kicking us. John and myself made it out though a side door to the dressing room. I had to rip my shirt off to get free. Simon was there and said 'leave everything and just get out'. Chris fell into the room with a jack boot mark in the middle of his chest, followed by Marc. We managed to scramble out of a back door to the Bentley. Simon screamed the car round in a circle and sped towards the nearest exit. The rest seemed like a slow frame replay, I watched in disbelief as the riot police began firing water cannon up through the top windows of the stadium, as chairs rained out with shards of glass."
The band's equipment was confiscated by German authorities and deported back to England and The Who kicked the band off the tour. Both Andy and Chris have said The Who never came on that night but according to the book Anyway Anyhow Anywhere: The Complete Chronicle of The Who 1958-1978 by Andy Neill and Matt Kent the riot only almost prevented The Who from playing.
The Who carried on with the rest of the tour without John's Children:
Thursday 13 April Circus-Krone-Bau, Munich.
Friday 14 April Münsterland Halle, Münster.
Saturday 15 April Sigerlandhalle, Siegen & Rhein-Main Halle, Wiesbaden.
Sunday 16 April Oberschwabenhalle, Ravensburg & Donauhalle, Ulm.
Wednesday 19 April Stadthalle, Bremen.
Kit Lambert sent a camera crew with The Who to attempt a concert film and the Munich show (the following night of the riot) was filmed in colour.
A couple of months later Chris Townson deputised for Keith Moon as The Who's drummer on a short British tour after Moon had injured himself demolishing his drum kit onstage.
The Who's British dates featuring Chris Townson on drums were:
Saturday 3 June Floral Hall, Southport.
Thursday 8 June Ulster Hall, Belfast, Northern Ireland.
Friday 9 June Golden Slipper Ballroom, Magilligan, Co. Derry, Northern Ireland.
Saturday 10 June June Palace Ballroom, Douglas, Isle of Man.
At the last show The Who retaliated the Children's annoying behaviour in Germany with flash powder; Townson went out with a bang...!! Unfortunately there are very few bootleg recordings of The Who's 1967 shows and the ones Townson played are not among them. Chris: "Alas I am not aware of any bootlegs, however I came very close a few years ago to finding a picture of the great moment in Ireland (courtesy of Andy Neill and an Irish journalist). Unfortunately I am obscured by Daltrey's arm... I know it was me, but...!!" |
| Chaos in Cattolica... The Italian Job |
By Andy Ellison.
© 2000 The John's Children website.
Well here we are in Italy, first time for John's Children. Rimini..... what a beautiful place this is!.... is it?... I dunno know, cos I never get a chance to see it. Anyway here we are at the Airport, only four of us, Chris , Ian , Martin and me, because boz is gigging in Botswana with the Pol Potts. And there's Paul from the Untouchables, the Mod, Philosopher, art critic, writer and all round good geezer and a couple of Italian mod drivers. to take us down the coast. Catollica looks very sedate. A quiet fishing port with a few hotels, a night club named the Golden Gate, some smart restaurants, beautiful beaches and it's crammed full of English, German and Italian mods, swarms of buzzing scooters and even a few Union Jacked, Austin Mini Coopers. The first night was going to be a chill out night ...... you know just a couple of beers and then bed ....... well we've got the gig tomorrow!!! So....... lets go clubbing until five in the morning at the Golden Gate where the mod festival has already started........ dance madly, drink loads of Jack Daniels, get cornered by the Engine driver who tells me that Martin is me in a 70s sitcom that I was in, but wasn't really. On the way back, we try and hijack a fishing boat, and then abuse shoals of jelly fish.....'You bastards!!!!' ....You…... etc etc....... We shout, precariously hanging over the side of the jetty.......they take heed, and leave the harbour forthwith. The following day, not a jelly fish in sight. Time for bed ..... no... Hang on, there's the Pirate pub open all night and conveniently beneath our hotel, where the mod festival seems to be continuing. People are still dancing wildly, methinks persians are afoot, (well at least 10 inches). Finally we stagger up to our three bedroom apartment with a balcony, over looking the port (not sure why I'm mentioning this, anyway it's jolly nice). The sun is rising and we try and grab a few hours sleep (if you can call it that, because the Lancaster Bomber in the bed next to me is on full throttle, I poke it occasionally, but it just hits you back).
The sound check is at three. We are picked and taken down to the Golden Gate in a couple of cars. Of course the doors are locked and the sound guys are waiting outside. We sit forlornly in the foyer, hungover, tired and hungry. Luckily Paul the mod who has come with us, is there to teach us all about the incongruity of Byzantine art, as he studies the ceiling fresco a la Michelangelo, in the club foyer. "Cor look at the size of thet geezers.......etc" and other such artistic observations.
We don't play until midnight, so after the strangely zen....zzzzzzzzz like sound check, we return to the hotel to see if Boz has arrived. Which he hasn't, so we try and grab an hours sleep (well I call it that..... but as drift into deep, deeeeeeep frescos of wildly dancing persians, shouting obscenitiess at mod jellyfish. The Lancaster Bomber returns.......... and the phone rings)..... and the phone rings ... "oh... hello...... Hi Boz where are you?" Of course he's in the pub below. We head off back to the Golden gate where the party is in full swing. For some reason or other we don't even check if our guitars are in tune, perhaps it's because we've just spent another hour at the bar. So it's straight on stage and into 'But she's mine'. This is one of those gigs, the ones that gradually come in flashbacks two or three days later. I seem to remember singing in the toilet at one point and flushing the loo to the sound of Jagged Time Lapse, I think I got on some blokes shoulders as he was having a piss, marching me back out throwing toilet rolls everywhere. Singing behind the bar as I sometimes do.... don't ask!! All right ask!.... it's because it's .....uum there. Sofas are suddenly being thrown on stage and people are fighting and rolling around in front of us. I start to take my clothes off. A naked Italian rushes into the throng, (woody type of word, Throng, thronnnnng.......sorry.) After the encore and about 10 minutes of winding down time, it's back out to Harry the bird, Cheesy, Fulvio, Mickey Wink and other very silly named DJ's, who transport us back to the swinging 60's. We carry on dancing and drinking until 4am. So what do you think so far?? Yeah fuck it, let's go to the Pirate Pub!!
I don't sleep that night......... ...... later I go to the cafe next to the river and wait. I'm joined by the others at about midday and we head off for lunch in the most amazing storm, thunder, lightning and torrential rain. But where's Martin? As we sit in the covered patio of the restaurant the rain becomes a torrent and roads become rivers. Out of this monsoon a misty figure approaches bedraggled and angry. "I've just spent 20mins trying to get out of my room", Martin says, looking a trifle peeved. "someone locked me in! so I've kicked the door down!" Chris, Martin and Ian go to the airport at 6pm, but Boz and I and a few English mod weekenders are not going until tomorrow night. Guy one of the mods sits next to us in the outdoor cafe, shivering, head in hands shaking constantly and groaning. He staggers up saying " I........I must get some air.... I'll go over....... there." Actually the air over there is exactly the same.!! He is so wired he jumps up runs across the road, changes his shirt then returns, leans forward still shivering, clasping his head. I don't think I've seen any body quite so ill. I'm interested to know how much substance abuse a human can take. As we wave good bye to Chris and the others, a thought crosses my mind. Why did they take so long getting their bags from the hotel?
Suddenly the heavens open up again, this is serious rain, we, Janine, Sancha Francois, Boz and myself run for cover to the nearest restaurant. The rest of the evening is spent, drinking a lemon liqueur Grappa and red wine, followed by food fights as Francois eventually falls under the table. Its still raining when we leave and head for the Pirate Pub. Here things become a little blurred, but I seem to remember boz leaning over to me at our point, looking worried, saying he'd just been threatened by a guy with a gun! I'm offered some marzipan (or something like that) by one of the girls, Later I go downstairs to the toilet and I'm followed. Someone (marzipan distributor) comes in and locks the door while I'm having a piss........... Hmm........!?
Boz and I stagger up to the third floor apartment. Entering the door we at first wonder if we've got the right flat. The place is empty. The balcony door swings wildly in the wind and rain................. Out on the balcony are all the beds and most of our clothes. Flashback to the afternoon.......Shit!!........ (as the others drunkenly waved goodbye). Worried about how much we are going to be stung for the already smashed bedroom door, Boz and I drag the the sodden beds in, and arrange them as neatly as possible. It isn't long before the floor is about an inch deep in water as the mattress's continue to drip. I decide to go and see Francois on the floor below, but things are not too good there, as he is in the process of letting off all the fire extinguishers. Somehow we manage some sleep and then hastily pack ready to leave later in the afternoon. We creep downstairs past the hotel owner, who is mysteriously below the counter groaning and deposit our bags and guitars with some friends in a nearby hotel. We are refused lunch in the restaurant we ate in last night, but strangely, they offer us some more strong liqueurs. Fortified, I think swimming is a great Idea. Although it's still very windy, I head off down to the beach, strip off, run into the warm sea (at least I think it was warm). Try and reach some rocks out passed the pier, but the large waves pounding over the top of the rocks force me back. Francois joins me. As we come out of the sea there are the mod girls, with their cameras.
Oh well, it's back to the airport. What a beautiful place Rimini is......is it.........??
Special thanks to Rob Bailey and all ........see ya
Andy |
| The Legendary Kitchen Gig |
Saturday 13th January, 2001.
By Chris Marshall
Pink, white, red. The acid hitting or was it '67 and "Come and Play with Me in the Garden"?
1967
Knocked out by "Desdemona", "Come and Play", "Go-go Girl".
1981
Sell the picture sleeve to raise cash.
1988
Recovery. Buy Bam Caruso's A Midsummer Night's Scene.
1967-2001
Regard John's Children as transcendent rock icons. Never liked Marc Bolan that much though.
1999
See London gig advertised in "Guardian". I'm going to Swanage so can't make it. Reflect on impoverishment of modern tourism.
2000
I get electronic.
2000 (April)
It's Dingwalls. Immediately invest in Chaos T-shirt. Puzzled by response of Bolan fans. They can't believe I'm the other way round. Colin tells me he's seen Andy by dressing room. Get out pen and spare Mikko site page. Fan meets Andy. Pen doesn't function. Return to Brighton.
2000
Age counts.
2000 (November)
E-mail Martin Gordon. I make proposition. Shyly. It's 10 by 16. Approximately.
2000 (November)
Martin e-mails me. Shades of Numanesque modernism.
2000 (30th December)
Streets of Camden freeze and sing. The Monarch. JC astound. "Is Chris Marshall in the audience?". Live interview follows. Unpaid.
2001 (early January)
The kitchen stretches and yawns. Waiting.
2001 (early January)
Andy e-mails....I reply....He phones. Can't make it. Will send signed album if ....
2001 (12th January)
Lots of jelly and icecream. 50. Pink, white, red.
2001 (13th January)
The kitchen. Get out that party suit. Have a drink. Relax. Put away more dangerous utensils. Get them out again. A touch of "Say those Magic Words". Then the magic works. "I opened the door and it was….". He's come and he'll play. Tunes up. A position between the freezer and the dishwasher. And now it happens. Acoustic. Nervous at first (so he said). Powerful. Mindblowing. Utensils scatter. It reads like this:
"But She's Mine"
"Sarah Crazy Child"
"It's been a Long Time"
"Arthur Green"
"Cosmic Dancer"
"Mustang Ford"
"Eleanor Rigby"
"Perfumed Garden of Gulliver Smith"
"Jagged Time Lapse"
Flooded grin and that's me. He's gone down a storm. Photographic evidence. I don't believe it.
Fades away. To white.
Master chef.
Chris Marshall |
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