In this week’s newsletter: Everyone has to start somewhere … and in front of someone. Thankfully, these soon-to-be-huge artists left the mime act and dodgy covers (mostly) in the past
F
rom the Beatles slogging through mammoth sets for jeering sailors in Hamburg basement bars, to Ed Sheeran playing just about every open mic night in the south of England, even the biggest acts had to start small. So when we asked Guide readers to share their memories of seeing now-massive bands and artists before they were famous, it was inevitable we’d get some great tales. So much so, in fact, that we’ve decided to devote the main chunk of this week’s Guide to your pre-fame gig recollections. We’ve also asked Guardian music writers – seasoned veterans of seeking out the next big thing – to share a few of their memories. Read on for tales of Kurt Cobain in Yorkshire, Playboi Carti’s set in an east London snooker club and an ill-advised David Bowie mime performance …
Pulp
In 1991, I was a young music writer starting out when I came across a pre-fame Pulp (pictured above) at a short-lived event called Piece Hall Live in Halifax. They shared the bill with the long-forgotten Bob, Levellers 5, and wondrous Todmorden oddballs Langfield Crane. The courtyard was sparsely populated when Pulp finally went on under the moonlight to perform a set containing the hardly chart-bound likes of Death II. However, they were absolutely captivating, and the setlist also included cult-classic single My Legendary Girlfriend, and Babies, which became the first of the run of killer singles which took them to bigger things two or three years later. Despite his messy hair and a fluffy jumper that looked like he’d found it in a skip, singer Jarvis Cocker was clearly a superstar in the making. “Top of the Pops by Christmas”, I wrote in Melody Maker. I never said which Christmas. Dave Simpson, Guardian music critic
