When we walked into the venue called The Asylum in Nottingham all the signs were positive. Contrary to its name it gave the impression that some clubs and bars give of being a haven, shut off from the harshness of the outside world. There was a large central bar in dark wood with multiple beer taps and above and behind mirrors and optics shining in the warm, dimmed light. Fashionably insolent looking bar staff lolled around waiting for customers.
We were wondering where we were supposed to set up our equipment when someone came and showed us to a characterless downstairs room with bare, nicotine coloured walls and a stage, but this didn’t dampen our enthusiasm - after all, there was also a dressing room with a table, an ashtray and a few chairs in it which in our experience was a bit of a bonus. It even had a mirror.
We soundchecked, then after running out of things to do in our silent, somewhat airless backstage room, decided to wander back upstairs to the bar and buy ourselves a beer. It was starting to fill up and the volume of the music playing has risen - mainly chart stuff, but there was some unusually good pop music in the top 40 in March 1983: New Order, Soft Cell, Ultravox, Fun boy 3, Tears for Fears, Depeche Mode, Altered images, Bowie, The Eurythmics….. we would never have admitted it at the time but even Michael Jackson’s ‘Billy Jean’ sounded OK after a few beers. The atmosphere was good - it felt like the place to be and there were still people coming in through the door when we went back down to tune up and prepare for the gig.
As we went on stage and started playing ‘Impulse of man’ I was aware that a stream of people were pouring down the stairs and soon, as I squinted into the darkness, I saw it was full to the back - a room packed full of faces watching and listening.
Looking back now, under the circumstances, what happened next isn’t so surprising, but back then we were still quite inexperienced, so when I opened my eyes wondering why there wasn’t much applause after the fourth or fifth song and saw the room half empty and people filing back up the stairs to the bar it was difficult not to feel… well…demoralised and humiliated. We played on of course, but by the time we were three quarters of the way through the set the room was empty but for a handful of friends.
When things don’t go well, the stage can become a torturous place and that night we were glad to get off it and disappear into our dressing room. No one said anything for quite some time. The first one to speak was Graham who said “that was fucking shit” - I don’t remember exactly what Justin said in response, but Graham stood up and shouted in his tough guy voice “stop making excuses!” - then, instead of backing off, Justin, who has a formidable temper on him, stood up and shouted something back, which was the trigger for something like a human bomb going off.
Graham punched Justin, Nick dived across the room on top of Graham, I leapt in to try and separate them and then I don’t really know what happened - Graham was lashing out at all of us. I remember being on the floor with my head against the wall and the sole of Graham’s Dr Marten boot ramming into my face and there being lots of shouting and the sound of things breaking.
Then it all stopped and there was a ringing silence. I must have still been on the floor because close to my face I could see the old tin I carried my cigarettes in which had been flattened into the balding carpet… on the lid the word Marcovitch and a small portrait of a man in a top hat smiling back at me. I picked up one of the least damaged cigarettes, lit it, stood up and looked around the room. The table and chairs were completely destroyed and bits of clothing and the contents of our bags were strewn across the floor. Nick and Justin were brushing themselves down and Graham was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. We left him there and started packing away and after a while he started sobbing bitterly.
We drove back home without speaking. Graham was in the back of the van with all the gear which was OK by us as none of us wanted to see him.
It’s difficult to rationalise the level of betrayal we felt and describe how Graham’s personality had changed without going into details about his private life and the company he was keeping, because there is, of course, a story behind the story, but it’s not mine to tell. However, that act of violence, although it did no physical harm, broke a link to our past, our adolescence, and many of the troubled and gloriously untroubled moments that it held.
It was a moment of high and complex emotions but the next morning when I woke, the first thing I thought was that I should have hit him. I suppose it was my damaged male ego rising up but it stuck with me for a long time and there were many mornings in the months ahead when I woke up and thought about going up to his house, knocking on the door and punching his lights out.
Back when we first formed and were proud of ourselves for having written a handful of songs, we signed an agreement saying that if one of us should ever leave the band we would not continue as ‘And Also The Trees’. In it’s own juvenile way it had been a solemn moment and we signed our names with sincerity, so when the three of us met up the afternoon after the Asylum I thought we might discuss this but we didn’t. The thought of it edged around the room for a while and then one of us said “let’s find another bass player then”.
Written by SHJ