When I was younger, I had a problem. While I lived in close proximity to San Francisco and had great access to almost every touring band who came to the West Coast, that made me super spoiled and I often blew off shows for the lamest of reasons. “Oh….Black Flag is playing? Wait, they’re playing with Tom Troccoli’s Dog? Fuck it, I’ll wait until they come back and play with someone better…” I didn’t go see the Ramones multiple times because “I didn’t like the venue”, delusionally thinking they would come back and play a smaller, cooler place. I arrogantly skipped the Clash opening for The Who because I was “too punk” at the age of 16! Consequently, I missed many, many opportunities to see bands, which I’m embarrassed to say now. Like the forementioned Black Flag, I missed the Ramones completely, and also blew off The Gun Club multiple times throughout the 80s because of openers I deemed as “wack” at the time.
Fast forward to 1993, when I was traveling to England and Europe to visit my aunt in Belgium. It was my second time traveling to London, where I had been once before by myself and mainly did touristy stuff for the few days I was there. This time I was staying with my old friend Kent, who I knew from back in the day in Marin. I arrived at her place and she handed me a thin weekly newspaper that had the weekly listings for all the shows, movies, art exhibits, etc. I flipped through it quickly, not really expecting to see anything, but one thing caught my eye. The Gun Club! I checked the date because, with flying all that way, I didn’t even remember what day it was. It was that night! Kent didn’t want to go, but told me it was a pretty easy train ride and the club was basically across the street from the train station. I was sold. I was redeeming myself by (finally!) seeing the Gun Club!
After eating something, I headed out to take the train. I had bought a 5 day tube pass so I was good on that front. I got on, sat down and rode for several stops. At one point, the conductor made an announcement over the intercom but, to be honest, the speaker was the size of a 50p piece and, with his thick British accent, I didn’t understand a word of it. The other riders didn’t seem to have any major reaction so I figured things were fine. The train kept a rollin’ with more and more people getting off at each stop. We hadn’t reached the stop where the club was and, at one point, there weren’t any people left on the train car I was on, just me. The train made a slow, sharp turn with wheels creaking and screeching. The car slowly lurched for several minutes into what looked like a grassy field; it was dark so it was hard to see outside to see where I was going or what was going on. Finally, in my head, I figured out the conductor had said that the train was going out of service before the end of the line. I tried to use the intercom thing to talk to the driver but it didn’t work. Finally, the train ground to a halt and just sat silently. It was like a horror movie; wasn’t there a trashy 80s slasher flick called “Terror Train”? I was living it.
I started to panic and see if I could pull open the doors to get out, but I could only budge them a few inches. Then the lights went out. I thought to myself, “Holy shit, I’m going to be stuck on this train in the dark out in a field all night!”. I sat down and tried to gather my thoughts and come up with a strategy of how to get out of the train. Then I heard a sound. It was the sound of someone going from car-to-car, opening the doors…then I saw the beam of a flashlight. It finally made it to my car and it was the train conductor. In the pitch black I said, “Hey, I’m stuck on here, can you let me out?” He was shocked and annoyed, because now he had to drive the train back to the nearest station and let me off. He begrudgingly did so and I was back on my way. I took the next train for the remaining 1-2 stops and got off.
I exited the train station and didn’t see the club at all, probably because I was rattled by the whole train debacle. I walked around for a while, mostly around the circumference of the train station, but I was pretty much lost. I’m not sure what the area was but I saw a lot of dudes with dreads. Finally, exasperated, I stopped on one corner and just scanned like 360 degrees around me. There was a dark alley in one direction and at the end of that dark alley was a doorway illuminated by a what seemed like a single light bulb. I squinted and….. Under that light bulb was Jeffrey Lee Pierce, vocalist/guitarist for the Gun Club, looking like some sort of deity/divining rod, just waiting for me to find him. I had found it/them! I walked over to the doorway (JLP was gone by then), paid my way and went in. I always liked going to shows in other states/countries just to see what the vibe is like. The Gun Club opened with “Give Up the Sun” off “The Las Vegas Story” (one of my favorite GC albums) and, although it was “later in their career”, they were just great through and through. I got a shirt that definitely doesn’t fit anymore (pictured below). I think I might’ve taken a cab back to Kent’s place since I didn’t want to die on the train coming back.