Village Disco Preservation Society

I had a great evening at my local boozer last weekend, crowned by a chap belting out an acoustic version of The Moody Blues ‘Nights in White Satin’ followed swiftly by a rollicking ‘Hey Ho Silver Lining’. In my slurred slumber I mentally cued up (and subsequently requested) Lynyrd Skynyrds Freebird next, but sadly it failed to materialise.

Just for that moment I was flown back in time, cut off denim and studded belt intact to Brantham Village Hall circa 82, with titans of the rural rock sound system – the Phil-Tones Disco (Phil & Tony, see what they did there?). Back in the day they ruled the rockers roost, they would have never failed to deliver the entire air guitar enducing Freebird solo at kick out time, there would have been a riot.

Whatever happened to Village Discos… that teenage training camp for underage drinking (Watneys Brown Ale of course), headbanging, arse grabbing and inter-village wrestling? Have they become cold war relics nestled in the yard next to Mrs Thatcher? They were mighty tribal affairs with set routines for greasers, punks, two toners, new romantics and art school dancers. I was in the first tribe but made it through the ranks as the years progressed, new romantics aside obviously.

These evenings were damn legendary, sowing the sonic seeds for years, a mullet mecca. I seem to recall that Tony had the edge on the tunes, AC/DC (Whole Lotta Rosie, with call and response), the Quo (Caroline), Saxon (Strong Arm of the Law), Maiden (Running Free), Lizzy (The Boys are back in Town), Rainbow (I Surrender), the Loaf (Bat and Paradise of course, full versions, no lame edits), Motorhead (Ace of Spades) and a sprinkling of shin kicking belters… Dexys, Specials, Madness, Jam, Pistols, Eddie and the Hot Rods, Eater (if Scat asked nicely). All killer, no filler.

All the lightweights went to the surrounding paler versions, Manningtree (too many Mods, not enough metal), Stutton (Now that’s what I call Music 1), Tattingstone (Now that’s what I call Music 2), Bentley (all tongues, no tunes), Capel (too many grey slip ons, the punks even travelled to Brantham), hold your heads in shame. Actually Manningtree, I take that back (don’t beat me up).

As our chins grew hair the Village Disco became the School Disco and things were never the same again. School Discos tended to lump you together in age and everyone knows that older brothers are the keepers of the musical truth. Tighter control on the Snakebite and Black (Pernod for the girls) meant that you had to sneak out whilst you should have been standing around a pile of denim jackets in a whirlwind of Vosene and back patches.

But all good things come to end and the spirit of Phil-Tones migrated to the Jukebox at the Ark, another story for another day. Maybe we need to reignite the flame, get the kids out of the house and causing a bit of old school mischief kicking seven shades out of each other to some old Ska tunes.

Anyway, thanks to Mr White Satin for digging up that moment from the darkest recesses of my murky brain. And thanks to the Village Disco massive for setting the tune bar so high back in the day, good times.

So here’s Freebird, all ten minutes of it. Don’t miss the solo…

…and one for the ladies. Nights in White Satin. Get your hands off my backside!

PS… in a inspired moment of Facebook joy this evening, the owner of the mighty sound system shared these images. Amazingly it’s all stored away in sparkling order in his garage, vinyl and all.

Posted by: Forte