It’s so ubiquitous that it has spilled over into concerts, football matches and everyday life. And to think that it originated from a little club underneath Glasgow Central Station!
From 1991 to 2015, The Arches was a venue that offered the best of Glasgow culture in the form of plays, avant garde art, author readings, gigs and club nights. Emerging out of the long forgotten ‘Glasgow’s Glasgow’ exhibition, it picked up national traction when Alien War premiered exclusively in the venue and became an overnight success (one rumour, confirmed in this book, was that Michael Jackson refused to visit on the grounds that it was too frightening).
Hosting a variety of influential club nights such as Death Disco, Slam and Inside Out broadened the appeal of the place, becoming a key component of Glasgow’s night life while still catering to the art school crowd (even hosting an exhibition by Jamie Reid and Banksy) before a mix of factors (changing tastes, Police Scotland seemingly declaring war on the place after a series of drug related deaths in the venue and the cowardice of Scotland’s art bodies) saw the place close.
Published in 2021, this book tells the story of how a series of dreamers and party goers made all of this happen. Spanning three decades, it’s a remarkable and inspiring read which moves along at a snappy pace and the fact that certain names are present throughout each period demonstrates how much the Arches was a labour of love for those running it.
One of my favourite stories involves a porn exhibition which had an installation called ‘Ode to a Porn Star’s Death’. According to former technical manager Rob Watson:
“He built a slope, from the ground, and then built a house on top of it, on the slope. In the house there was a bed, a TV; you were the porn star, looking down on your own death. And it kind of summed up the Arches for me: it was about six weeks’ worth of work that the guy did, to build this six-metre by eight-metre structure with a sloping floor that you couldn’t see because it was housed outside – for a three second effect So you were like, ‘Oh fuck, I feel like I’m floating here…’ And there was a porno on the TV and the bed was messed up…”
Other tales involve Banksy and his team unfussily setting up his exhibition while Jamie Reid was concerned about the colour of the lighting, Mylo doing his first gig in the Arches and getting paid £20 for the privilege and a young Calvin Harris taking notes in the audience.
However, as is often the case with books that rely on accounts to tell the story as opposed to an overall narrative, it can meander at times into anecdotes that only make sense if you were there and there are hints of power struggles which (presumably) have been downplayed in order to keep the page count down. Regardless, it does a damn fine job of discussing the events held there as well as celebrating its legacy.
And that chant? David Bratchpiece claims that:
From 1991 to 2015, The Arches was a venue that offered the best of Glasgow culture in the form of plays, avant garde art, author readings, gigs and club nights. Emerging out of the long forgotten ‘Glasgow’s Glasgow’ exhibition, it picked up national traction when Alien War premiered exclusively in the venue and became an overnight success (one rumour, confirmed in this book, was that Michael Jackson refused to visit on the grounds that it was too frightening).
Hosting a variety of influential club nights such as Death Disco, Slam and Inside Out broadened the appeal of the place, becoming a key component of Glasgow’s night life while still catering to the art school crowd (even hosting an exhibition by Jamie Reid and Banksy) before a mix of factors (changing tastes, Police Scotland seemingly declaring war on the place after a series of drug related deaths in the venue and the cowardice of Scotland’s art bodies) saw the place close.
Published in 2021, this book tells the story of how a series of dreamers and party goers made all of this happen. Spanning three decades, it’s a remarkable and inspiring read which moves along at a snappy pace and the fact that certain names are present throughout each period demonstrates how much the Arches was a labour of love for those running it.
One of my favourite stories involves a porn exhibition which had an installation called ‘Ode to a Porn Star’s Death’. According to former technical manager Rob Watson:
“He built a slope, from the ground, and then built a house on top of it, on the slope. In the house there was a bed, a TV; you were the porn star, looking down on your own death. And it kind of summed up the Arches for me: it was about six weeks’ worth of work that the guy did, to build this six-metre by eight-metre structure with a sloping floor that you couldn’t see because it was housed outside – for a three second effect So you were like, ‘Oh fuck, I feel like I’m floating here…’ And there was a porno on the TV and the bed was messed up…”
Other tales involve Banksy and his team unfussily setting up his exhibition while Jamie Reid was concerned about the colour of the lighting, Mylo doing his first gig in the Arches and getting paid £20 for the privilege and a young Calvin Harris taking notes in the audience.
However, as is often the case with books that rely on accounts to tell the story as opposed to an overall narrative, it can meander at times into anecdotes that only make sense if you were there and there are hints of power struggles which (presumably) have been downplayed in order to keep the page count down. Regardless, it does a damn fine job of discussing the events held there as well as celebrating its legacy.
And that chant? David Bratchpiece claims that:
It was at Inside Out where it all kicked off… I couldn't make it out at first and I was just like 'what is this noise?' And my mate, who I worked with, was like ‘it's this new thing they're chanting’,” …Since then, there's a sort of mythology almost around it, so I'm actually quite chuffed that now in this book we're like...that's ours.”
With the venue now reopened under a different name, the time has come to chant.
Here we, here we, here we fucking go.
David Bratchpiece & Kirstin Innes, 2021, Brickwork: A Biography of the Arches. Salamander Street, ISBN-13: 978-1913630980
With the venue now reopened under a different name, the time has come to chant.
Here we, here we, here we fucking go.
David Bratchpiece & Kirstin Innes, 2021, Brickwork: A Biography of the Arches. Salamander Street, ISBN-13: 978-1913630980
⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.
I'll have to give that one a read. I was in The Arches and The Tunnel several times in the early 90s. I wasn't impressed to be honest. Like The Pod in Dublin and Sugar Sweet and The Venue in Belfast they were too posey for me. Too many fabulous hairdressers in feather boas. I prefered to get down and dirty with the headers in Kelly's and Circus Circus. Better music too, DJ Gleave over Holmer every time.
ReplyDeletePeter,
DeleteBy the sounds of it, you would have hated Death Disco but maybe Colours and Inside Out would have been up your street.