‘Hello hooray, what a nice day…’

Forty years to the week from my first live solo sighting of Bruce Foxton – at Guildford Civic Hall on his Touch Sensitive LP tour – the Flag Market in Preston was transformed into Nostalgia Central for this punter, the ‘Manchester Rain’ forecast by Steve Diggle’s second-on-the-bill Buzzcocks staying away on this occasion, the impressive setting (Preston’s own Cenotaph to the left of the stage, the Sessions House to the right, the Harris Museum, Art Gallery and Library over our right shoulders) a fitting backdrop in the four hours I caught of an impressive heritage meets locally-honed talent line-up on a grand spring day.

Commitments elsewhere ruled out my latest encounter with WriteWyattUK faves The Amber List, first live sightings of Beach Mountain and Ginnel plus many more Lancashire-based guests, but I at least arrived in time to hear the crowd roar along to the unmistakeable heavy metal thunder supplied by Evil Blizzard (if a band who wear face masks can be described as unmistakeable) as I strode along Lancaster Road looking for a way in (30 years after I was at that end of town for my first Preston work engagement, a banking role that inspired me within a year to quit the day job and enrol at the local uni).

In an event curated by Preston’s Business Improvement District organiser Peter Alexander – from the city’s not far off Blitz nightclub – and due to take place in the same location last summer but then pushed back, at first inside the nearby Guild Hall then shifted back outside after a discovery of RAAC at that venue, the Blizz were concluding their be-masked thang as I snuck closer to the stage, the grotesquely-grand PIL-popping finale ‘Are You Evil?’ blasting out. And while the open-air aspect perhaps wasn’t working in their favour from distance, they left an indelible stamp on the proceedings, even if their trademark claustrophobic intensity was maybe lost on many of the uninitiated milling around by the food stalls and bars. There were enough fans to see them over the line though, terrace-like chilling chanting ringing out across the square and into the side-streets.

Getting closer was the key, I realised, and the same applied for next act Space – the nearer you got, the better they sounded, this punter consequently inspired to return to first two LPs Spiders and Tin Planet (accounting for two-thirds of a 15-song set here), two of my first purchases when I finally succumbed to the CD era (well, you can’t rush into these fly-by-night fads), part-soundtracking my early days in this beautiful neighbourhood, as frontman Tommy Scott would have it.

They were a three-piece on this occasion, increasingly impressive as the set unfolded, even though as with the other acts you had to be near the front to get the full effect, the latter half of the set more convincing for these ears, Tommy’s earlier virtual duet with Cerys Matthews (the Catatonia chanteuse’s lines for ‘The Ballad of Tom Jones’ played over the PA in what he called their ‘cabaret moment’) low-key in comparison to later crowd-pleasers like the top-notch ‘Female of the Species’, ‘Me & You vs the World’, a gorgeously out-of-hand ‘Violence is Art’ (by Tommy’s side-project The Drellas) and the aforementioned ‘Neighbourhood’.

The jury remains out for many regarding a post-Shelley Buzzcocks, but they gave it large, Steve Diggle – a few days short of his 69^th birthday and close to the release of his Autonomy memoir – in his element, the champers backstage clearly ensuring it wouldn’t be a case of ‘no showy’ and ‘no band on’. Okay, so the crowd were often clearer on diction amid renditions of a flawless back-catalogue mixed in with a few recent additions, but I’m all for celebrating that wonderful legacy. ‘What Do I Get?’, ‘I Don’t Mind’, ‘Everybody’s Happy Nowadays’, ‘Promises’… oh, man, that was just the opening salvo. And while their Preston Weekender performance wasn’t up there with past live highlights, they gave it their all, inevitably finishing a 13-song set with ‘Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve Fallen In Love With’) and ‘Steve’s ‘Harmony In My Head’, setting us up nicely for the headliners.

Okay, there are lots of gesturing to the sky moments from the ‘Cocks original these days, live music equivalents of Frank Lampard Jr. goal celebrations, but he’s still out there, doing it, kept younger by his band, and playing with a smile on his face. Fair play. Besides, I’m not doing the same things I was when I was 10, so why should he be out to replicate what he was an integral part of in the late ’70s (when this was all just ‘nostalgia for an age yet to come’)? He’s never claimed he’s Howie or Pete. And you can always play those classic LPs at home.

With both the Buzzcocks and From The Jam, you have an original band member out front (both 68 on the night), more likely seen back in the day as the second songwriter. But I think it’s fair to say Bruce Foxton never looked to lead the latter, always happy to co-front alongside Russell Hastings, who’s certainly proved himself down the years to be a consummate pro, not only capable of playing Paul’s parts and innovate with that wondrous song catalogue, but also emerging as a formidable songwriter in his own right, as proved by three fine LPs – under the names Bruce Foxton then Foxton & Hastings – since 2012.

I make it 17 years since Bruce joined – in what originated as tribute act The Gift, with fellow Jam legend Rick Buckler also key to the mix in the early days – and while the live set rarely showcases Russ’ own writing talent – the band seemingly wary playing to audiences where the majority are just there to hear Jam songs – and despite this being a shortened set (organisation for the Weekender proving somewhat problematic, the final act seemingly heavily affected by a 11pm curfew) there was time to showcase 2022’s ‘Lula’, sounding great to these ears on a gorgeous evening at From The Jam’s first outdoor gig of the year other than a Dubai engagement.

Technical problems didn’t help, but Russell, Bruce, Mike Randon (drums), Andy Fairclough (keys) and Gary Simons (percussion, second bass) got around that, holding it together in a set that often sparkled. While wondrous opener ‘A Town Called Malice’ sounded more like a soundcheck, they hit form from ‘To Be Someone’ onwards, Bruce leading on Ray Davies’ ‘David Watts’ before that trademark bass intro signalled ‘Pretty Green’ on a night of solid gold choices. Every one a Maserati, as Graham Chapman put it.

Further in, Russell’s wistful mention of hopefully being home within six hours or so to see the sun rise over the South coast near Selsey Bill or Bracklesham Bay heralded another evocative number taking me back to my Surrey roots, ‘Saturday’s Kids’, the band then daring to dream with a restarted ‘Heatwave’ from that same Setting Sons masterpiece, summer definitely on the mind.

And while we got little further than the looped subterranean sound effect intro of ‘Tube Station’, there were many more highlights to come, not least Russ’ poignant solo rendition of ‘English Rose’ in its place, the set like The Jam’s own career ending while they were on that high – time up against them – with three glorious singalong romps, ‘The Eton Rifles’ followed by ‘That’s Entertainment’ and another evergreen anthem for our times, ‘Going Underground’, still making this boy shout and this boy scream all these years on.

The Jam’s incredible legacy remains solidly intact, Paul’s brazen, brave decision to end it when he did long since proved to be the right course. But these past 17 years have proved just how much life remains in those songs. Ever resonant, ever apt, and a pristine songbook in safe hands through Weller’s occasional re-imaginings and the live interpretations of From The Jam.    

With a massive thank you to Michael Porter Photography for the use of his wonderful images. You’ll find a full set and much more via this link.

Ever get to see Bruce, Paul and Rick live with The Jam the first time around, anytime up to that final emotional farewell at Brighton Conference Centre in December 1982? Then there’s still time to contribute to a new book paying tribute to The Jam, pulled together by this writer, Malcolm Wyatt, alongside Richard Houghton at Spenwood Books, looking for fans who might like to relive those glory days in print, ideally calling on those ‘who were there’.

On the back of the success of recent Spenwood Books publication, Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade, this Lancashire-based Surrey lad is working on a follow-up featuring Woking’s finest trio, a celebration of all that was great about the band – from working men’s and night club days through to those memorable Beat Surrender finales.

A key cornerstone in this Boy About Town’s music journey, The Jam resonated with me from the moment I first heard them – I’m thinking ‘Modern World’ on the radio, late ’77, aged 10 – and it still pains me that I never managed to catch them live. By the time of that December ’82 split, I was only 15 and while I’d already managed a few concerts, the opportunity never arose.

My first live show, at a Surrey village youth club in mid-July 1980, involved the debut appearance of Blank Expression, who ended up supporting The Jam at Brixton’s Fair Deal 21 months later. That was barely a week before The Jam played the third of seven dates in total over the years at my nearest big venue, Guildford Civic Hall. But that was between ‘Going Underground’ and ‘Start’ topping the charts, Paul, Bruce and Rick at a commercial peak, and the clamour for tickets to see these local lads made good ruled out any hope of this 12-year-old getting in. The same went for the return that December, this Saturday kid just about a teenager by then.

There were back-to-back Civic Hall shows in July ’81, barely a fortnight after my first visit there for The Undertones, me missing out due to lack of funds – wages from a village grocer’s and Sunday paper-rounds not going so far – and having to make do with a heady diet of the incomparable All Mod Cons, Setting Sons and Sound Affects at home, among my brother’s record collection.

When this legendary three-piece from just up the A320 returned to Guildford in early March ’82 ahead of the Trans Global Unity Express tour, a private gig marking John and Ann Weller’s silver wedding anniversary, this 14-year-old secondary school lad clearly wasn’t in the know. And I was travelling back from a half-term break in Cornwall with my folks when the split was announced, with little chance of a ticket when the initial farewell tour was extended and set to finish back at Guildford, a subsequent frenzy for tickets leading to a far bigger finale down the A281 at Brighton.

My brother and many mates I grew to know in years to come were at the Civic for what was seen as the proper last show, but I had to make do with those final telly appearances, then a copy of Dig the New Breed on cassette. The Bitterest Pill was mine to take.

I’ve since seen Paul, Bruce and Rick many times, in various formats, and had the joy of properly meeting and interviewing the latter two. Four decades after it all ended, they all still have that stellar allure for this perennial teenager. But I never saw them first time around, so hopefully you’ll indulge in me having to live the live experience via your own recollections of those halcyon days.

Solid Bond in Your Heart: A People’s History of The Jam, set for publication in September (with a pre-order link here), celebrates an explosive three-piece that conquered hearts and minds All Around the World, working their way upwards and onwards from Surrey’s club and pub scene, properly launching their first assault on the capital in the year punk rock exploded, going on to enjoy a half-dozen incendiary years of chart success before the plug was pulled.

What can we add to what’s already out there? There’s been a wealth of great books about the band and their individual members, but we have a chance to add to that canon, many of the eyewitness accounts already lined up being told for the first time, further highlighting an amazing outfit with the help of those who were there at various key stages. I’ll include excerpts from my interviews with Bruce – having first interviewed him in the mid-‘80s in my fanzine days – and Rick, and Jam co-founder Steve Brookes, and words of wisdom from Russell Hastings among many primary players, peers, insiders and those others who truly made it special – the fans. The idea is to celebrate an evergreen legacy and a trio that inspire to this day, 40-plus years after the split. And I’d love to hear your stories about seeing the band and how much The Jam meant to you.

Here are a few prompts to help some of you get the grey matter going:

Where and when did you see The Jam live, and who did you go with?

What initially appealed about the band, how did you get to know about them, what was the first Jam record that truly resonated with you, and did you hear that on the radio, TV or a friend’s record player maybe?

If you saw them live, what was it like in that crowd? Did The Jam shape your own direction? Did they inspire you to get involved in music, politics, fashion, find new avenues in films, literature, etc.?

And when that decision came to call it a day, how did you feel about that?

For more details, send your words, contact email address and any good quality Jam-related copyright-free images you may have (memorabilia, you with band members, etc.) to me via thedayiwasthere@gmail.com