THE STONE ROSES
BLACKPOOL EMPRESS BALLROOM
"IT'S F---ING weird isn't it ? What are you supposed to do when people send you stuff like this ?" Ian Brown, singer of The Stone Roses, fishes a Basildon Bond envelope out of the back pocket of his original 1972 green corduroy 21 inch Wrangler flares and passes me its blue, unperfumed contents…
"Ian, my dear. Sometimes I fantasise that you're writhing down below me and your hands are hot and sweaty. Do you remember your bongos ? You can play bongos with me anytime. Oh, this is the one, this is the one, I'd like to roll across the sand: just me, you and a Cadbury's Flake. You're a bad man. Your Sugar Spun Sister."
"What can you do ?" continues Ian searching for an answer to his question. "Well I suppose you've got to expect it when you foist yourself on people."
So what would you say to her if she came up to you tonight ?
"Well that would depend on what she looks like, wouldn't it !" Ian giggles. Lucky those Roses have tongues in their cheeks.
Saturday, 12 August, 1989, is a date to remember. Not because it marks the 20th anniversary of Woodstock. Nothing so retro. But because it marks the celebration of the Stone Roses' coming of age. Pop star hatchlings. Desired objects.
The contents of Sugar Spun Sister's letter may be tame compared with some of the things you'll read in say Starlust, but The Stone Roses have only just entered that arena where every follower is more fanatical than the next.
And if the Roses get just halfway up the ladder they mean to scale, then life will be a million times madder by this time next year. Just six months ago The Stone Roses would have been lucky to pull a tenth of the people needed to fill Blackpool's 4,000 capacity Empress Ballroom.
But with a top 40 single and album carved from their musical foliage and an increasingly large following of 24-hour party people, this palatial venue has sold out three weeks previous to the gig and over 1,000 people are expected to be waiting outside for tickets.
Today they can truly be proclaimed the stars of the '80s, '90s and the future. And to be quite honest The Stone Roses couldn't be less fussed. They're too sure of themselves to let a momentary flood of adulation bowl them over.
Room 111 of the Charlton Hotel is a room with a view. But without a bathroom. Like a quizzical puppy - eyes and nose forward, ears back - Ian is perched on top of his narrow bed drawing everything in. The Nod, or Gary Mounfield to you, is manipulating the tiny hand basin with a demonstration of dental care and Reni forms a right angled triangle with the floor and a chair, content to merely chill out.
In an hour The Stone Roses will be running onto the stage of Blackpool's Empress Ballroom where the perfectly preened crowd have been gathering since midday just hoping for a semi-private word and a signature. Girls parading in brand new Levi's and brandishing marker pens have "Ian Brown wrote this 12/8/89" printed down the side of their legs.
"I can't understand it. They're wearing good clobber some of them and they want us to destroy it," ponders John.
The Stone Roses are coming to terms with fame, though the fortune has still to follow. Tomorrow they'll have Cynthia Plastercaster banging at their doors.
"WHAT'S GOT ten legs and can't swim ?" asks Ian with the enthusiasm and impatience of one who's just thought up a new joke. We lean closer over the barriers of Blackpool Promenade. "A dog and three policemen hahahahah !"
Blackpool's tourist authority will not be happy. Earlier this year three of Her Majesty's blue bobbies drowned after diving into Blackpool's grey wash trying to save… a dog.
"We wanted to play Blackpool to give people a day out to finish their summer," explains Ian. "When you've got no money and you live in Manchester and you're a kid there's nowhere else to go - it's the local seaside resort.
"I've been beaten up a few times in Blackpool. It's renowned for it. You have to be careful at night: if you don't wear a tie you won't get into the pubs, and if you're walking around the streets people do bang into you."
Tonight, and for maybe the only night this year, the kids will be safe for once. The Stone Roses shirts outnumber the beer bellies sleeping in the shop doorways.
"I'm dying to get on," enthuses Ian. "There's a great atmosphere: 4,000 people have come here for the day; hung out on the fair and the beach; gonna go and see The Stone Roses; and then go and have a party.
"It never used to be any fun, 4,000 people together for a gig ? But now it is, the more the merrier. Everyone's really wanting 100,000 people all to have a big party at the same time. Willing it to happen."
Unlike many bands such as The Wonder Stuff and The Poppies who were anxious to build a reputation through circuit live work, The Stone Roses are not desperate to be seen. "We just don't want to go through the same old motions," explains John. "Straight off the top of the Indie charts and into the Town & Country."
Due to this principle they've turned down support slots with The Rolling Stones and New Order, as well as a tour of Japan because they were only to be allowed a crew of two instead of their usual 12…
The Roses want to change the rules. Make every gig a party, so that they can jump off the stage and straight onto a UV-flooded dancefloor. A search for a suitable venue in London for the Roses to hold a rave unearthed the film studio in Shepherds Bush used for the first Energy Rave, Batman and Pet Shop Boys parties, plus there's talk of a possible gig at G-Mex before Christmas.
In fact, everyone seems to want a chunk of The Stone Roses at the moment: whether it's just malicious gossip about the state of the relationships with their girlfriends or their record company ("Rumours, rumours, rumours, you've got to have some gossip when you're in a group, haven't you ?" says Reni contemptuously), to the people bootlegging their T-shirts. But they really don't seem to care because they're completely unmaterial compared to the people exploiting them.
"How much money have we lost ?" laughs Ian, "It doesn't matter, touts have to earn a living. How much money do you need ? If you're getting bootlegged then you're going to be earning money anyway aren't you ?"
Are you worried about following the success of 'She Bangs The Drums' ? Do you think you'll be strong enough to hold the next single in the charts ?
"We're not worried about anything," says Ian. "Having a top 40 hit isn't anything to worry about, is it ? Worry is about having no money, worry is about being hungry, worry is about having nowhere to live, worrying is about not being able to get a job when you want one. That's what worry is. Worry isn't doing your own thing and getting paid to do it, is it ? We'll have a new single out as soon as we can, September maybe, called 'Anytime You Want Me'."
It's one of four tracks that he and John are working on at the moment, discarding their backing of 40 unrecorded tunes for new material.
"My incentive at the moment is the sleeve for the next single and the four songs for it," says John. "I usually tend to take one element of the lyric and magnify it for the painting. This time it's dolphins because Ian sings 'I'm no dog I'm a dolphin / I just don't live in the sea'.
"We went to see a dolphin in Brighton," says Ian taking up the story. "It was really sad because it was in a tiny little pool. None of us said anything for about half-an-hour. We just stared at it. It kept going past and turning its head and smiling. It didn't jump up at anyone else though, did it ? There were loads of people around the pool and it kept circling, only jumping up whenever it saw us."
"It was because you were hanging over the side wearing a grey rubber suit," jests Reni before Ian falls into a complete depression.
Are you scared you could lose the momentum you've built up ?
"No," dismisses Ian. "It's where you've at that counts isn't it ? And we're going to get all the way to the top."
GO INTO a Manchester pub these days and ask whether any of The Smiths have been in and you'll probably be asked "Bob or Joey". The Smiths mean f--- all nowadays. Like a death, it's something that people grieve, respect and if they're sensible learn from.
All that foppish student worship that drained hope and brought depression, it was a sickly rancor that spread into the very heart of Indie youth culture, and killed it.
It made good fertilizer though. The Stone Roses grew from it. Look into the eyes of the 4,000 here and you see the health, hope and happiness that comes from productive minds, not brooding or regretful ones. It's not unemployment and poverty that kill, it's believing you've no place in the future. That there is no future.
The Stone Roses are the future, are the resurrection. A personification of the changing tide of feeling that's sweeping the country and filling every last crevice of this gilt-mirrored seaside palace. In many ways it's a demonstration of the power of the new generation. Kids who are going to kick back, kids who could start a revolution.
And they write good pop songs. The storming, booming bass of 'Don't Stop' strides from the stage to the rafters in one fell swoop, laying out any doubts that this three-tiered venue would swallow The Roses whole.
"This is one of the three best gigs ever and one of those wasn't Morrissey at Wolverhampton," tugs a fan enthusiastically. And they're right. Shitty sound and whatever other disadvantages aside, you know even before The Stone Roses put one foot on the stage that you wouldn't take a million-zillion pounds to be elsewhere.
An '80s replica of Star Trek's Scotty, Ian prances through the purple light brandishing a red-and-blue flashing electric yo-yo. The toy lights cut shapes across the audience as the first chords of 'I Wanna Be Adored' are ripped out of John Squire's guitar.
"Manchester vibe in the air, international," yells Ian with a well-placed slur. The mass goes mental.
You could be stuck in a dingy basement of a car park for the notice you take of the grand surroundings. All there is, is their music. Brash and beautiful, nothing seems to matter more. John summons all his energies for a solo in 'Made Of Stone' that would make the hardest heart weep and then the whole band are p-h-a-s-e-d though the mixer.
Ninety minutes later, with my head stuck in the bass speakers during the squealing 15 minute rendition of 'I Am The Resurrection', I catch myself: "Shit, two hours ago I was in that man's bedroom !" Ian's right you know; it wouldn't be the same if he was a butcher's boy. But as a performer, an elfin-slim character with a collar of fivers round his neck, there's no doubt he's reaching for the sky.
Stood there, legs akimbo and arms stretched out high above him, I'd say even that won't be the limit for long.
IT'S NEARLY seven in the morning and the sun is starting to glare through The Roses' hotel bar window. There was, after all, no party to go to and the band and a hundred or so followers have had to be content with bringing themselves down on a mixture of brandy, orange juice and lemonade.
People have been circulating all night when suddenly Ian, seated on a high chair, finds himself presiding exclusively over a bunch of journalists hanging on every word. It spells disaster.
"I used to believe in the power of the press, but all you want to hear is bullshit," yells Ian sounding hurt and bitter, as his eyes pin and search out the offender.
"Having done a tour of Great Britain I've changed my mind a bit on Manchester because it's a place where things are happening, there is a vibe in the air here," says Ian. "People are taking the piss because we have 16-year-old girls coming but you'll still get people who own Factory Records and whatever. And I know tonight we've got strange people on the guestlist, from barristers to dealers."
The integral difference between The Stone Roses and other bands is they expect as much back from you as you get from them. Whereas most interviews are strictly a one-way process, The Stone Roses are as interested in your opinion as you are in theirs.
Like The Sugarcubes, if they both produce second albums that reflect the promise of their first they'll be massive. And with such a strong infrastructure of friends and relations supporting the group there should be no chance of expanding egos. After all, they're all just butchers' boys at heart.
"I don't usually think about anything while I'm on stage, but about halfway through the set I suddenly realised I'd been in this place before," explained Ian, reflective after the gig.
"All through the soundcheck even, I hadn't recognised it, but I'd blagged my way in here years ago to see Tony Benn. There was a Labour Party conference here and I was able to listen from the back.
"I always thought the aristocracy should be shot. I was brought up that way. And I had a lot of respect for Tony Benn because he'd been born into aristocracy and had been strong enough to leave it all behind. Then when I saw him speak I thought he was really good, he'd completely jumped the gun with his thoughts."
So who got more applause, Tony Benn or you ?
"Tony Benn deserves more f---ing respect than any pop group. It would be a miserable day if I believed any different."
Roses are red…
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