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reWRITING THE INDIE CONSTITUTION

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

sinatra's - a club in birmingham

for a few months during '87 and '88 sinatra's, located opposite snow hill station and just off the aston expressway was my favourite club in the world.

i seemed to be there weekly - in fact i think i was.

it was tiny.
entering from the street you appeared to be stepping into a seedy, drug-riddled, pool cue wielding drinkers den.
and i guess you probably were.
the club itself was up a flight of stairs on the first floor.
a tiny bar and room for about 50 or 60 people.
the sound was always really good.
there wasn't a stage - just an area cleared at one end of the room.

occassionally lawrence used to loiter around at the back of the room. no one ever seemed to speak to him, just acknowledged his presence and let him get on with being lawrence.

i can't tell you if the bar was any good as i was drinking nothing stronger than pepsi in those days.

bands i saw there?
um...some of my favourites were:

razorcuts
sea urchins
mctells
buy off the bar (my band was support for this one)
st. christopher
onionhead

i've just thought, it's the place where greg razorcut singed this for me:
razorcuts | big pink cake


happy days.

*i can't find any links to the venue so if you have any more info about what went on there i'd love to know.

2 Comments:

  • At 5:16 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I too was there, illegally and only when I could sneak out. It held a lot of my childhood memories, was sad to see it go but made it for the last night!! Black Horse, Hummingbird, Ship a Shore and many other haunts I cant remember right now BUT best days/nights ever.

     
  • At 11:26 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I loved Sinatras. I used to go there between 1992 and about 95. It was my favourite music venue; there were bigger, better, more sorted ones, but it had a certain indefinable something special that made it seem mine. I don't know whether it was the fact that you could think that you'd fallen off a barstool drunk only to find that the seat had only been balanced on the shiny silver pole, or that you could end up drunkenly and talentlessly playing the harmonica along with a penny whistle man, but something about the place really worked for me.

     

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