{"id":3813,"date":"2020-07-11T18:03:36","date_gmt":"2020-07-11T18:03:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/saxonforeverdiscography.com\/?p=3813"},"modified":"2026-03-03T19:51:18","modified_gmt":"2026-03-03T19:51:18","slug":"pre-1979-concerts","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/saxonforeverdiscography.com\/?p=3813","title":{"rendered":"SOAB: 1975 – 1978"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u201cA hard working rock band on the road\u201d<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Source: Broadcast Barnsley (Credit John Cruse with kind permission, Jan 4, 2019)<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back to our chosen theme: as Melvin Bragg said in his preamble to the BBC\u2019s \u2018Second house\u2019 film on the Kursaal Flyers, the life depicted is \u2018seedy, gritty, tough and unattractive.\u2019  Nevertheless, that has been the route by which many bands have risen to stardom.  It was certainly the case for Barnsley heroes Son of a Bitch\/ Saxon<\/em>, as described in an article in the Barnsley Chronicle <\/em>in November 1977.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reporter Stephen Thorpe went on tour with the band and described to local readers the hard grind of life on the road, a relentless and often unrewarding slog that tested all but the most committed.  Biff, the band\u2019s vocalist, had the belief necessary to fight through.  He told the paper:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going to make it and make records; there are no two ways about that.  If we don\u2019t believe in that, we might as well pack it in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was proved to be perfectly right, but you had to have immense faith at the height of the punk movement to carry on playing out-moded heavy metal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Conditions on the road were gruelling and sapping.  The band had problems with the power supply at several of the venues.  Cancelled gigs threatened their entire budget potentially: they might expect to make \u00a350 in an evening (\u00a3340 today) but the profit was often less. The band relied on the money made at one gig to pay for petrol to get them to the next.  A lost date could have caused the entire tour schedule to collapse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The group allowed themselves \u00a31 a day  (about \u00a37 currently) to cover their personal expenses- food, cigarettes etc.  Sometimes, though, there was no cash to buy a meal before a gig and the often went on stage making do with just a cup of tea.   During the interview the band praised their invaluable sixth member, the roadie John Batty.  His devotion was a key part of Son of a Bitch\u2019s survival and success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Source: Broadcast Barnsley, May 4, 2017<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In January 1976 Metro Management advertised that \u201cout of the ashes\u201d of the previous bands had come a new Son of a Bitch<\/em>, who were booked to play their first gig at a small civic venue, the Centenary Rooms, on February 6th<\/sup> 1976.  The choice of venue indicates that they were still unsure of their audience, but the band members all had solid live experience and they were confident enough to return within a month (with Fix <\/em>as support), albeit for only 50p (now about \u00a33.80) on the door. Aged 15, I first saw the band playing at one of these two gigs- I have forgotten which, but it was my first experience of live rock and I remember it as being packed with grown-ups and being smoky, beery and very<\/em> loud!  It felt like my first taste of an exciting, adult world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The band played their home town regularly after that, although they graduated to the main auditorium of the Civic Hall from June 1976, playing a gig that promised to \u201cmake your feet steam\u201d for a mere 65p.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The band appeared in Barnsley nine times over the next thirty nine months.   This averages one appearance every three months or so, but in fact five of those gigs were during the first year.  It seems apparent that the strategy was to establish a core local audience and to hone the group\u2019s live skills and set at minimal expense, before gambling time and resources on unknown audiences further afield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bitch<\/em> were hungry for public exposure as well as live experience and accordingly they agreed some odd appearances and pairings.  Usually the band were supported by other local rock outfits- for example, in November 20 (1976) support was provided by Heaven\u2019s Above <\/em>from Cudworth and Weasel <\/em>from Mexborough.  This was not always the case, however.  In July 1976 Bitch<\/em> again played Barnsley\u2019s Civic Hall, this time (bizarrely) as part of the borough\u2019s \u2018Youth Dance Week\u2019.  Support surprisingly came from Manchester\u2019s Afro-Caribbean soul band Masterpiece<\/em>; on another occasion Bitch<\/em> were supported by a white soul outfit, Kokomo<\/em>, and at another gig films were shown instead of a live guest act, one being of a live performance by avant garde<\/em> experimentalist Eno.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The local paper, the Barnsley Chronicle, <\/em>announced that the July gig proved that \u201crock lives\u201d (in the face of the birth of punk, presumably).  Bitch<\/em>, \u201carguably Barnsley\u2019s foremost rock band,\u201d had played to an audience of 300 and had provoked \u201cwild scenes, pandemonium, chaos and cheers.\u201d The report listed the set- it included Freeway, Lift up your eyes, Easy, Taking in the dollar<\/em> and longstanding favourite Bap shoo ap<\/em>.  The favourite that night, though, was a ballad called Anne Marie.  <\/em>I recall this song, even today.  It was a certainly a fave of me and my friends who were in attendance that evening and- at a push- I think I could still play the opening riff, even after four decades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the band returned again in November that year the paper declared them to be \u201cpossibly the town\u2019s leading band at the moment\u201d and \u201cwell on their way to \u2018making it\u2019\u201d as they had just distributed demo tapes to record labels.  It was, however, to be another two years before Bitch<\/em> finally found a recording contract.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You can trace the band\u2019s steadily rising profile directly through the pages of the Chronicle.  SoB <\/em>(as the reporters discretely liked to call them) were a local success story the paper was happy to feature, whilst the band plainly recognised the benefits of guaranteed press coverage.  Today, acts can promote themselves directly to fans through Facebook, Bandcamp<\/em> and the like.  During the seventies you had to work harder for publicity, but the local paper was very willing to fill column inches with praise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another route to recognition, now as then, was through competitions.  In late September 1977 Bitch <\/em>won a local \u2018battle of the bands\u2019 heat in Sheffield and were headed for the semi-finals of the US Sound Spectacular in Manchester in October.  Perhaps to capitalise on this success, another Barnsley gig was announced and the band set about recording further demo tapes.  Nonetheless, it must have been galling and dispiriting for them to see brand new punk outfits getting signed within months of forming whilst SoB<\/em>\u2013 despite their considerable musical and live experience- were still gigging around the working men\u2019s clubs and hunting for a deal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The November 1977 booking was put in doubt by an event at the same venue in late October. Barnsley\u2019s one and only punk gig ended in an alleged riot and a police raid. In response, a review<\/a> of the council\u2019s bookings policy was initiated and SoB <\/em>were caught by this over-reaction.  As vocalist Pete Byford told the Chronicle, <\/em>the \u201cantics of the punk rockers\u201d had threatened all live performances in the town and, before the concert could proceed, the band had been obliged to provide legal undertakings to pay compensation for any damage wrought by the audience.  As it was, the gig passed off peacefully, perhaps because the heavy metal fans restricted themselves to drinking Barnsley Bitter and head-banging rather than pogoing\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In mid-1978 the Chronicle<\/em> announced that SoB had finally secured a recording contract.  They had been flown over to Paris to sign a five figure deal with Carrere Records<\/em> and were to begin recording their first album in the near future.  Everything seemed promising: in mid-September the local paper reported that the album would be released by Christmas.  That said, it had no title, as yet, and there was also talk of the band changing its name too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A triumphal return to Barnsley Civic Hall took place in December 1978.  This gig is memorable for two reasons: firstly, we learned that, like Tony Iommi, the lead guitarist had nearly severed the tip of his left index finger, imperilling his ability to play; thankfully he was still able to riff and solo as well as he had ever done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Secondly, and most significantly, Biff, the vocalist, told us that the band had signed a record contract (roar of approval) BUT that the record company had insisted that they change their name (boos- but perhaps not altogether surprising in the circumstances).  From thenceforth they were to be known as Saxon, <\/em>but (Biff assured us) to the loyal fans of Barnsley they would always be Son of a Bitch.  <\/em>For many of us in the audience, there was a sense that this success was cursed.  It had been endangered by the guitarist\u2019s injury whilst it had been bought (it seemed) at the price of their true identity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In fact, (with shades of Spinal Tap) <\/em>the appearance of the new album was further delayed- doubtless in part because of the name issue.  Recording took place at in Barnet, between January and March 1979, and the album \u2018Saxon\u2019 was eventually released on May 21st<\/sup> of that year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Source: Peter Lindblad<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

SOAB – The early years<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dodging flying beer bottles and sidestepping brawling hooligans isn\u2019t everybody\u2019s idea of fun. Biff Byford and the boys of Son of a Bitch, precursors to the New Wave of British Heavy Metal legends Saxon, always found trouble in one particular live venue in the northeast of England \u2013 in the industrial town of Burnley \u2013 called the Bank Hall Miners Club, but that didn\u2019t stop them from playing there as often as they could in the early days. As the lanky Saxon front man recalls, \u201cThe money was good.\u201d And it had to be, because there was a real possibility that one or all of them could wind up in the hospital after the gig. \u201cIt was a club for miners, as the miners had their own club,\u201d says Byford. \u201cThat was pretty hard actually. That was a pretty hard place. There used to be fights there every time we played \u2013 not because of the band, but because there were two gangs that used to stand across each side of the room looking at each other, and then at some point, they\u2019d all charge at each other and that would be the end of the concert. So yeah, it was a bit rough. It was like \u2018The Blues Brothers,\u2019 where they\u2019re throwing pots and bits of beer at the band and things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even for young men craving rock \u2018n\u2019 roll excitement and even danger, the violence of the Bank Hall Miners Club in the late 1970s was a bit much for Byford and Son of a Bitch. They had to make a buck, though. And, regardless of the trials and tribulations of barnstorming England in a cramped van and performing at clubs and bars where many of the patrons might want to take a swing at them, it beat the hell out of working in the mines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen I was 17 or 18, I was working in the coal mines,\u201d says Byford. \u201cIt was difficult. It was really hard work. When you\u2019re that young, you\u2019ve got mates in there, and I wasn\u2019t in there for very long. It was a dangerous place. But, yeah, I know what it\u2019s like to work hard for everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps that\u2019s why Son of a Bitch, and later Saxon, originally had such a large following in working-class communities in the north of England and in South Wales, landscapes once dominated by factories and \u201ccut off from the south,\u201d the more pastoral area of Britain, as Byford says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI suppose people just wanted to go out on a Friday or Saturday night and have a great time and just watch a great band,\u201d says Byford. \u201cAll these little villages or towns had clubs or bars, and we used to play them. You could play one every night for a month. And that\u2019s what we did.\u201d Back in the 1970s, Byford only had to witness the tough lives of his fellow miners to give himself the push he needed to make it as a musician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Late 1975, Byford, guitarists Quinn and Graham Oliver, bassist Steve \u201cDobby\u201d Dawson and drummer John Walker \u2013 who would soon be replaced by Pete Gill \u2013 formed what would become Saxon in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, only they started out as Son of a Bitch. They toured England relentlessly, as is recounted in the 2012 Saxon documentary film \u201cHeavy Metal Thunder.\u201d The venues weren\u2019t exactly posh settings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe played a lot of clubs and bars,\u201d says Byford. \u201cYeah, we thought it was great fun, although they were very rough. There were a lot of fights and things.\u201d Part of the excitement involved having copious amounts of sex with groupies in the band\u2019s van \u2013 which also housed their gear \u2013 after a gig. Their one-night stands occasionally got them into hot water. \u201cYou had to have a good pair of running shoes to get out of the way,\u201d jokes Byford. \u201cThere was always somebody\u2019s girlfriend that liked one of the band members, and you had to get out pretty quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While the U.K. club circuit provided Saxon, who ditched the name Son of a Bitch fairly early on, all the thrills and excitement they could stand, they had bigger dreams. And they had no intention of being just a covers band, which only served to rile audiences. \u201cIn the early days, we used to do like three sets,\u201d recalls Byford. \u201cWe used to stop and have a break and then start again. And usually by the end of the set, all of them were pretty rough actually. And we really didn\u2019t do cover songs back then. So a lot of people used to ask for \u2018Smoke on the Water\u2019 and all (laughs). And we said, \u2018We don\u2019t play that.\u2019 And then they\u2019d usually riot, you know what I mean? After a while, people would come to see us because we were a good band then, so we actually got on a little bit easier as time went on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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John Walker (first drummer SOAB, Nov 75 – Jan 77)<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Source picture: Graham Oliver with kind permission<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Early SOB recording with John Walker on drums<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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