I seem to recall, as a teenager, a group of us were very enamoured with Ian Anderson’s classic ‘tramp’ image. I think it seemed somehow rebellious because my dad would look up from reading the Daily Express (which was a broadsheet back then, if you remember) and look at him performing Teacher or Living In The Past and say ‘What is that?’ which was a flag for liking something, as a kid.
Because of this, when we got tickets for the Songs From The Wood tour in 1977, we all decided to have very multi-coloured long scarfs knitted by our mothers, better to pay homage to Anderson, even if by then, he was more of a country gentleman.
We must have unusually got tickets well ahead of the gig because the scarves were completed long before. It was winter, the gig being on 3rd February 1977. These were long affairs, you could wrap them around your neck three times and they still went to your ankles and were traditionally worn with Afghan coats and big heavy army coats (remember them?) in navy or khaki, which any self respecting rock kid and students too lived in and slept under in train stations, having missed the last train home.
We were 16 and discovering the joys of boozing nights away in various drinking establishments, primarily The Stockton Arms. So that winter, a gang of us and our scarves were out a lot, and we got into many scrapes because of those scarves. Y’see, if someone took against you as a scruffy, hairy rock kid, which was more common than you might think in a rough, post-industrial northern town, you might want to get away quickly. But all your foe needed to do was grab your scarf and yank you back to face your nemesis.
On one occasion, one of our be-scarfed brethren was anchored by an anti-freak type outside of a pub, resulting in a tug-of-war between his mates and our opponent, nearly strangling him as both ends of the scarf were pulled. Such were the hazards we had fought through up to the gig.
Then on the day of the gig, we got our Beggs Travel coach from Stockton to Newcastle City Hall, this time without a bottle of Southern Comfort! Excited for the gig, I had got the album the day it came out. We enjoyed the gig, which, as I recall, involved a massive inflated balloon being bounced around the stalls during The Dambusters March/Locomotive Breath as on the Bursting Out Live album.
We retired back to the coach, post-show, excited and messing around. Three of our group of four got on together, the fourth was somewhere else. We knew he’d catch up, he was probably in the toilets. But as the coach filled up, he hadn’t reemerged. The driver asked if everyone was onboard, and we said no, just as he came running up at speed. Annoyed he had been delayed, the driver muttering swear words at him, took us home. The lad had been buying a poster - always a bad move at gigs, because they got creased. The coach would make stops around the big estates and gradually emptied. Finally, it was our turn to get off, which we did, the late lad, with his poster, was last. I don’t know if it was vengeful by the driver or just a mistake, but he closed the doors and began pulling away with this lad’s long scarf trapped in the door. It yanked him off his feet, he tore the poster and he was dragged 10 feet down the road, ripping open his jeans at the knees and turning his head a funny colour. The driver stopped on hearing our screams and shouts and released his trapped scarf, cursing him as he did so for having such a stupid affectation as a long scarf.
These days, the lad’s parents would have sued the driver or company for being reckless, but back then was a less sensitive time and he was scolded for having stupid attire, which I suppose he was. They were seriously long. Ian Anderson will never know the pains we went through to show him our appreciation.
