northern soul

yeah? if you don't get it, well, just have a chat with yourself, you can alway's just fuck off and find another blog, something that isn't a challenge, something that's trendy, something that doesn't have real soul, 'if this is love? then i'd rather be lonely'........

northern soul

iron horse

mid-nineties britain, the custom bike 'scene' had become big, the show's and rally's had become massive, i had attended the very first 'rock and blues' hosted by the local mc the road tramps in the early 80's, it was held on some waste land in long eaton, the band played off the back of a lorry trailer, bonfires lighting the scene and dancing drunkenly to led zeppelin covers, by the mid 90's the road tramps had joined together with lot's of other club's and become the outlaws m.c. and the event had grown to a full blown festival, proper stage, headlining bands like motorhead, twisted sister, bad manners and the levellers became the norm, there was a second stage with bands playing almost 24 hours in a massive beer-come-circus tent, pole dancers, a funfair, bungee-jumping from a massive crane, a rave tent and hundreds of stalls selling everything from head massages to ethnic bracelets and everything in-between, stunt planes, fireworks and laser's thrown into the heady mix, even the motorcycle action group were getting in on the act, motorcycle high-wire jousting anyone? i can remember me and barse at a rally, late september, team-lard, a local mcc staging their first rally, we were sitting in the beer tent watching a local soul and funk band, playing a blinding set, tight and funky with a great girl vocalist, the bikers present didn't even applaud the effort and sweat of a group obviously just pleased to be playing a gig to a live audience instead of working in the rehearsal room, i can remember one big, beer bellied individual standing up and hollering, 'fuck off, stop playing this shit, don't you 'know born to be wild...' that was it for me, it was over, i looked at barse, he looked at me and i can remember it like yesterday, 'for a bunch of individual's, how come we all look the fucking same mate?' when i got home i shaved off my goatee beard, through away my german army para boot's, my m1a jacket, took my earrings out, threw away my ethnic bracelets but i kept my dutch army combat trousers to paint the house in, i had my hair cut, [look, this was a long time ago when i actually still had some, ok!] i had a smart short back and sides and also varied it with a very short shaved at the back and sides and mini flat-top, i threw away my motorhead-bastards-england t-shirts and started wearing plain white t-shirts, cuffed levi 501's and greasy brown leather dealer boots, no longer did i want to be associated with the stereotypical, leather cut-off wearing, tankard carrying, iron maiden t-shirt, bearded, scruffy biker image, funnily enough at the next years rock and blues i decided not to camp, having scored a weekend pass from a member of the outlaw's, who was a mate. for a job i'd done for him, i rode up on the bike and commuted home at night, i was talking to some geezers who i knew who were members of a local sidepatch club, all very chilled, sharing a beer, having the crack, when some gobby bird started, 'he's a fucking copper!' she slurred, wobbling around after a day smoking and drinking warm foster's, 'eeee's a fucking coppa!, look at 'im, he ain't no fucking biker!, he don't look like a fucking biker to me!' she staggered up to me and jabbed a nicotain stained digit into my cheek, 'just fuck off, pig!', so i did, i dissapeared, sick of the whole thing, i only kept up com's with barse and ammo, i just rode my bike and kept away from anything to do with being a biker except classic bike shows and racing, i even stopped buying the two custom bike magazines 'back street heroes' and awol', one day when i was shopping in belper, i made my usual visit to have a pike at the magazines, one in particular caught my attention, 'iron horse' an american mag, i was aware of it of course, a mate passed me the occasional back issue when he'd read it, to be honest, it was a typical yank mag, almost a poor relation to 'easyriders', [that had dissapeared up it's own arse years ago], back in the day, it was mostly phone-sex adverts and unclad 'biker babe' pictures, very low-rent, when i picked this particular copy up, [and i still don't know why i did], everything fell into place, this was a buzz, like hearing punk, kissing a girl for the first time, getting into a fight or seeing the ram's stuff forest, i got home, put the kettle on and read every word, twice, i phoned barse and told him, he wasn't particularly bothered, he knew the mag from old, he got a copy, read it and we spent a night talking about it on the phone until dawn, yep, it had that much effect on me, [and barson], here was writing at the highest standard, a mile away from the vacuous drivel being punted out by the home grown mag's, it told you to chop up and enjoy what you rode, it was political, it took on the mighty harley davidson corporation, not the bikes, but all the bullshit associated, 'lifestyle t.m' bollocks that accompanied it, it 'flipped' the harley patch, showing it's contempt for the corporation, but still showing it's love of the marque, the writers, genghis, noyes livingston,fritz, j.t nesbitt and the mighty editor david 'snow' snow. they were truly the voice of the alternative bike culture, coolness personified, more like the last gang in town than journalists, they truly cared for what thay believed in and that rubbed off on anyone who read the magazine, like all good things it was a brief affair, [if you are interested in picking up back issues, number's 130- 160 are the crucial mag's], with snows resignation the magazine re-appeared briefly as a sort of 'greatest hit's' compilation with re-printed articles and the return of the pnone-sex advert's, after this the mag was re-named 'the horse', i bought loads of issues but, for me, it never came anywhere near the brilliance of the 130-160 issues, do yourself a favour, track down a couple of back-issue's and it will change the way you think about motorcycles, i promise, i'll give you your money back if it doesn't...........

iron horse

the loveless vinyl vault [a.k.a. skeletons in the cupboard]

the loveless vinyl vault [a.k.a skeletons in the cupboard]

so, i'm looking for something in the cupboard under the stair's where everyone hang's up their coat's, chuck's their shoes and what has become a dumping ground for anything that they can't be arsed to carry up stairs and put away properly, or, in my case, stuff that's not important enough to live in the shed with the bikes and tools, but, 'might just come in useful one day' i'm busy searching and i stumbled across a big box of vinyl albums that has somehow become misplaced from the main collection, [mr's b reckon's it was probably the aftermath of a drunken night spinning old soul records and dad-dancing in the lounge], here's a cracker from 1966 on the imperial imprint out of los angeles, danny wagner was a 'blue eyed' soul singer and this album, [which included the legendary barry white as part of his backing band 'the kindred spirit']showcased wagner's up-beat soul vocal, especially on the northern soul monster 'i lost a true love' [click the last photo to have a listen to the tune]

bob smith

bob smith was one of my racing hero's, the diminutive smith stood 5'4" but put him on a racing motorcycle and he turned into a double-hard bastard, i remember when bob got an invite to race in the easter tranatlantic match races, the british versus the yank superstars over three different cicuits, held over the bank holiday weekend, friday was brand's hatch, sunday, mallory park and easter monday saw the whole circus roll into oulton park, with the likes of sheene, grant and haslam taking on the mighty robert's, mamola and spencer, a lot of people were asking 'who's bob smith?' they soon found out, bob giving the american's a torrid time on his beat-up, shoestring financed tz750, when bob got a ride in the inaugaral battle of the twins series on the magnificent rgb-weslake, a rip-snorting 100 bhp, wrapped in a john caffrey built chassis and weighing in at a featherweight 295lb's, he battered his rivals including tony rutter on the work's ducati to take the championship, bob lost his life in an accident while racing at oliver's mount in 1983........

last of the summer wine

miles from nowhere's annual season closing show today, the aptly named 'last chance custom and classic' after the fantastic weather we have had this past week the attendance was alway's going to be good, even though nearby donington park was hosting a round of the british superbike series, what i really like about the m.f.n. show is that it's a meeting of the clan's from harley and custom bike owner's, through the classic bike buff's to the lad's who ride the latest sportbike's, from the local scooter club's to the hell's angel's who turned up today, a great afternoon, well chilled and a chance to catch up with old mate's, barse filled us in with his trip to the trip-out, big kev from the strong survive m.c. ammo, gaz, gordy, chris w, paul, indian ian, my brother big steve marsh, cosmo and then there's the world's most handsome man, ben 'fucking' jones, [cooler than a polar bear sucking a magnum ice cream], anyhoo, here's the bikes that stood out for me, the triton? perfection personified, absofuckinglutely gorgeous, the primary cover cut away to reveal the belt drive, brilliant, the joe hunt magneto?, the black and white chequer tape around the speedo and tacho? lick!, what about the little w650 kawasaki 'malus' cut-down?, very neat, the hinckley bonny with the alloy tank, one of the best i've seen, the standard bike is a big heavy bastard that makes a sporty look like a greyhound in comparison, the little moto-guzzi, the rare as hen's teeth vespa small frame ss90 was mint as was the lambretta 'who' themed, full modded up, 'my generation' scooter, the norvin? the mad as a very mad thing general lee inspired drag racer on the road gsx with long swing arm, rim mounted front discs and fuck-off turbo, the little red beezer with the high-level pipes, the shwantz inspired rgv stroker and the nasty bonneville with numberplates, big-up respect to you all, good to see england is still cutting them up and saying a healthy 'fuck-you' to the pretender's........

charity shop/oxfam

saturday, no match today, england played last night, world cup qualifier, mr's b and me hit the shop's in belper, chippy dinner today, chip's, mushy peas, white cob's from gregg's, [with proper slighty salted lurpak butter], i live like a monk week day's, five a day, tuna salad everyday, no alcohol, walk five miles a day, training hard on the heavy bag, weekend's? fuck that, beer, wine, vodka, curry, chip's and all the other malarkey that's no good for you, first port of call is the legendary book and cd and vinyl shop that is oxfam, mr's b pick's up five novel's by jonathon kellerman her new favourite author, i score a copy of 'zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance' by robert m pirsig, had it year's ago, lent it someone long forgotten and it dissapeared into the ether and four cd's, new order, 'technique', eel's, 'daises of the galaxy', fun lovin' criminal's, '100% colombian' and 'b.r.m.c.' by black rebel motorcycle club, support your local charity shop, [jack's had a sort out of his designer label clothes that he doesn't wear anymore and we dropped them off too, what goes around, comes around........]

we don't need no steenkin' mudguard

a little comment by jan, a long time contributer to the loveless blog has been needling me all week, 'ever thought about losing the front mudguard?' well, yes i have, i've never been happy with the cut-down aprillia 125 guard, i fitted it because past experiences on my rigid sporty chop sans 'guard told me to fit one to stop the constant stream of road debris, water from the wet road's and lump's of cow faeces hitting me square in my ugly mug, but, you know what?, after jan's comment i woke up a couple of night's thinking about it, i got to thinking, i'm running a barely legal, [ok. illegal] motorcycle, i have no headlight, no indicator's, a loud pipe, my emissions are fucked because i junked the standard airbox with the re-circ system and i'm running a mikuni 42mm pumper carb and shorty s+s bellmouth, i've got race tyres, my brake's are not 'type-approved' original equipment but a combination of ducati treble-nine brembo front stopper and cagiva mito 125 rear but a hundred times more efficient than the o.e.m standard harley shit fitted as standard, a small silver and black reg plate and a hundred and one other thing's that i've modified that aren't 'official dealer t.m. approved' so, what difference does it make not running a front mudguard? diddly fucking squat, nada, nothing, not-a-jot old chap and let's face it, it does look better doesn't it...........

sweary mick's other aermacchi

i've done more miles this past week than the whole of summer, woke up to another glorious day in derbyshire, sat in the garden with the dog's drinking tea by 0700hrs, not a breath of wind, definite autumn feel but just lovely, me and mrs b breakfast, drink tea, walk the dog's, more tea, down into belper, browse my favourite shop, the oxfam charity store, mr's b pick's up five novel's and i score four cd's and a copy of 'zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance', chippy dinner, more tea and out on the girl's bike, i lose track of how many miles i've ridden but i know i've got a sore posterior and i've filled the sporty tank four times, i dend up at sweary mick's, dinah makes me a brew and we retire to one of sweary mick's four shed's, all full of notable motorcycles, here's his new purchase, an aermacchi 350 single racer with a history you wouldn't believe, he's still finding out all about it from the record's supplied with the bike, he's got loads of spares with the machine too, seven-speed gearboxes at 3 grand a piece?, yep, two of those, a truckload of liner's, pistons, ignitions, cylinder heads and barrels, three bottom end's, spare frame and swing-arm, unreal, i blag a sit on the bike, the clip-on's are so narrow, the whole bike is light as a feather, the fairing and seat are cabon, no wonder they are so fast and just as a teaser he pull's the cover back on the 250 seeley aermacchi that dangerous is coveting badly.........