Most of these are missing from THE POGUES as they stagger across Europe on tour. “Even if I drink myself to death doing this,” says SHANE MACGOWAN, “I’d still prefer that to the boring, horrible jobs I had to do before this band.”
You’ve got Guinness on your breath
IT was somewhere near old Checkpoint Charlie that we first caught sight of the thin white droog. He is dressed in black from head to toe and has somehow managed to get half a toilet roll wrapped around his left shoe. His shirt is covered in a mixture of horrible stains from last night’s gargantuan intake of all things liquid and the residue from the messiest laugh in show business.
It is in fact this latter noise, more of a gush really than anything else, which finally convinces the keen-eared photographer that we do indeed have the man we are looking for. Hey you, you with the bog roll on your feet and the Guinness on your breath, you must be the singer and chief songwriter with the very wonderful Pogues. I say you are Shane MacGowan and I hereby claim my long-awaited lost weekend.
Who do you think you are kidding, Mister Hitler?
SERIOUS? LET’S GET that way right now and talk for a while about the rather unsavoury events that took place in a venue way out in the American part of town, in a three-tiered building called The Loft. Looking back on it now, we should all perhaps have paid a little bit more attention to the guy in the dressing room who casually happened to mention that today was, ah, Hitler’s birthday and a few of his spiritual descendants might just take this very public opportunity to let the locals know that the old goosestepper may be gone but is certainly not forgotten.
The end result of this piece of particularly bad timing was that the sheer unadulterated thrill of seeing The Pogues play live to a foreign audience for an the first time was tarnished by the very different sensation of wondering what the best form of torture would be for the vile bunch of Nazis down the front, who were making a very good job out of ruining the fun fun fun for everyone else.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Music With a Capital 'M'
The prolific HÜSKER DÜ have escaped the strictures of hardcore, to make truly remarkable music. “There’s nothing incredibly new about it,” says BOB MOULD. “We’re just doing what we do the best we can.”
All Pop is Political
“To me, pop and the whole notion of pleasure, sex, entertainment and leisure is political,” says SCRITTI POLITTI’s GREEN GARTSIDE. “So Dead Or Alive with their swirling clothes have as much political resonance as Billy Bragg.” Charming as he is, Gartside’s work doesn’t please everyone.
I Think I Hold My Ground
NME OCT 5 Introducing a product of NYC coffee society… Suzanne Vega.
It's Better To Burn Hard Than To Rot
With his reputation on a high, a tangential interview reveals a lot about the unique worldview and oddball technique of TOM WAITS. On the release of Rain Dogs, Tom talks white socks, neuroscience and his new guitarist, Keith Richards. “We met in a woman’s lingerie shop…”
Business is Booming
In a university dorm room, a rap dynasty is emerging. NME travels to New York to interview wordsmiths RuN DMC, along the way meeting producers Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons – the brains behind Def Jam. “The street wants something specific,” says Simmons.
I Don't Think Keith Was Pleased
MICK JAGGER makes a solo album. In Paris, the singer talks dodging paparazzi, the outrageous young Rolling Stones, and the miners’ strike. He even touches on his solo prospects. “You can’t expect to get No 1s all the time,” he says, “and if you do you’re a cunt.”
I'm Prepared to Go Down With the Ship
On behalf of THE SMITHS, Morrissey meets the fanzine press. He faces questions about love, Band Aid, the Moors Murderers and the band’s own unique position in the world. “There are people I admire,” he says, “but ultimately we are alone.”
Ambition. Greed. Money
Most of these are missing from THE POGUES as they stagger across Europe on tour. “Even if I drink myself to death doing this,” says SHANE MACGOWAN, “I’d still prefer that to the boring, horrible jobs I had to do before this band.”
Pandemonium
MM July 13 Bruce Springsteen seduces the masses.