Red Mole Tour America (Part 1)
RED MOLE DIARY 1977 - 1980
WELLINGTON.
My Red Mole journey began in early 1977, at the bar of Carmen’s Balcony after a ‘Cabaret Capital Strut’ performance. Meeting at the bar was to become a consequential part of life with Red Mole, a place to ignore (or not) the great significance of the art. Sally and Deborahs’ dance performances at an NYC clip joint, while Alan toiled away relentlessly on scripts on the 11th floor of the Consulate Hotel , put paid to any real meaning in what was going on, survival was the name of the game. While never wanting to sell out or compromise their performances in any way – the Moles decided to take up my offer to add rock n roots to their shows and so began a solid six month period of commercial success. It was always about the show and Bruntons’ prodigious writing saw to it that there was always a show to be worked on. My performance philosophy has always been along the lines of the Tacitus synopsis of the Celts “Fighting retail, they were beaten wholesale, had they been inseparable, they would have been insuperable.” And so it was for a while, a sense of commitment to eachother apart from venal commentary regarding the rest of the cast heard though dressing room walls – were we supposed to hear it? Or was it just Alan’s witty repartee to keep present company submitted and amused and no-one else in the way of the ménage a trois.
AUCKLAND.
The Country Flyers work was taking them to Auckland more and more, so later in 1977 the band moved there – the Moles moved too – on route to the world.
I had left Wellington before, seven years earlier, working a trip with a band to England on the Northern Star – a rite of passage for many a young musician in the 60s and 70s. As part of the ship’s company we were invited to meet the Captain (a New Zealander), “Where are you from?” he asked, “Wellington,” we said, “I feel sorry for you,” he said. I was hurt, yes, insulted, til I got out and saw some of the rest of the world.
The Flyers worked the Moles shows at The Ace of Clubs in Auckland City or The Sweet Factory in Parnell – late night cabarets – Aucklanders seemed to take to the political satire just as well as Wellingtonians - surprise, surprise. One night as we were running out of the Windsor Castle to get to the Moles gig next door, band leader Midge got arrested and locked up for the night – late on child support – those were the days. After all the cabaret Red Mole longed to create bigger and more complex theatre. ‘Someday all theatre will be like this’ became the moniker for a new era of work. Ghost Rite began a series of big shows that took to the road.
NEW YORK.
The Red Mole Troupe travelled to the USA in late 1978. I joined them in NYC early 1979. We were all ensconced in the Consulate Hotel on 49th and Broadway – the heart of the Theatre district. The Moles were strictly Off Off Broadway however and were already performing ‘Last Days of Mankind’ at the Theatre for the New City in the East Village when I arrived, backed by Red Alert led by Jan Preston. There were soon to be ructions and upheavals in this scenario. At the end of their season of ‘Last Days of Mankind’ it was decided to take the show to England. This required a culling of personnel as some could no longer work together. Guitarist Richard Kennedy, Jan and I took on the mantle of the Red Mole Orchestra and would make the trip to the UK with them. The rest of the Red Alert Band, Stan, Jean and Tony would stay in NYC to make an art out of street performing as The Drongos.
ELEPHANT & CASTLE.
We landed at Intergalactic Art, which was an old pub in the Elephant & Castle, converted piecemeal into a dance studio, rehearsal space, recording studio, workshop and accommodation. The place was run by Roland, who seemed to be the brains and Steve, a black Liverpudlian, who seemed to be the rent collector. Alan decided the place was really a squat and wondered why we’d pay rent. Alan’s tongue, his weapon of choice got Steve riled, he knew he was being insulted, didn’t know how but he knew he was, so he went upstairs, put on his steel capped boots, stuck a blade in his back pocket and came back down to confront the smart arse Brunton. Luckily, the Moles had found a real squat and were able to announce they were leaving before Alan ‘got his’.
HACKNEY. GUILDFORD. SHEFFIELD.
The UK version of ‘Last Days of Mankind’ was worked up at the Mole’s Hackney squat. The synopsis went something like In the street a group of actors struggling for a living is struggling for an audience . They are located in a country where the hard rain is always just about to fall. They have the vaudvillion air of some day long ago. They are LORD GALAXY’S TRAVELLING PLAYERS, definitely about to sing and dance with a touch of Days of Heaven, from the show of the same name. They are a touring troupe presenting the preamble to the revolution for the village meeting of recently liberated peoples. The discussion is about the legitimacy of the new regime and the injustices of the old. Eventually the film ends… and it is about to rain again. Only this time a Hard Rain, A White Rain, a reign of Heavy Water. Heavy like Shah Pahlavi. We end with a song of joy and optimism. A fairly typical weirdo Mole precis. A drummer was required for this production and the extramural gigs that the Red Mole Orchestra did. A boy from Leeds, Chris Whitten, agreed to come along for the ride, unfazed by the organised chaos. Obviously inspired, Chris’s career after Red Mole spiraled through Julian Cope and the Waterboys, Dire Straits and Paul McCartney. Mole performances at this time were staged at the famous Crucible Theatre in Sheffield, the Surrey Free Arts Festival in Guildford and Oval House London. The more raunchy production ‘Blood on the Tracks’ was performed at The Crypt in Covent Garden. The topless fire-eating seemed to get things going. Tribal London was never more in evidence the night we played the Albany Empire in Deptford, don’t know if I’ve ever seen such extreme violence, when a group from outside the territory dared venture into the club, there was a lot of blood.
NEW YORK. PHILADELPHIA.
We returned to New York in October 1979 to prepare for the ‘Numbered Days in Paradise’ Tour USA. ‘Dead Fingers Walk’ was already worked up however and enjoyed another successful season at the Theatre for the New City. In a city where no-one has time to investigate everything for themselves, The Village Voice critic Erika Monk ensured full houses with commentary such as Red Mole’s people are sexy flesh and blood. Their work, however macabre or hysterical in the moment, is backed with a feeling of happiness and activism, though they live in and show our culture as it is: not the easiest maneuver, all things considered. Most effective social satire has a meaner edge. But not a sharper one. Our band on the side was now called The Shaky Islanders, a band infinitely more promising than it’s name said Time Out. We played all the hot spots, the money didn’t flow like wine, but we worked CBGB, Max’s Kansas City, The Mudd Club and my favourite, The Hot Club in Philadephia, in a room where the presence of Iggy Pop from night before was still palpable. I met Debra - the perfect barfly, fell in love for a few weeks. She came back to NYC with me after coming to other gigs in Philly - she was beautiful, dreamy and had lots of drugs - we parted on the subway with a kiss – she said you don’t want an old chick like me hanging round – she was 26.
This time was encapsulated in Blondies ‘Heart of Glass’. Drummer Chris had advertised his skills in the Village Voice and started hanging with the Blondie scene, at one point auditioning for James Chance and the Contortions, so at the end of our series of gigs on the eastern sea-board, more ructions occurred in the troupe and the band disintegrated. Jan and I were now the Red Mole Orchestra and we hit the road to look for America. Ha.