THE BOVVER BOYS

 

"WHEREVER we play there’s always a load of police and they usually put on extra bouncers," said Dave Hill, 19, lead guitarist with Slade.

And he admits that the reason for these precautions is that the group has become totally identified with the skinhead cult - which in most middle-aged, middle-class, middle-minded minds means violence.

"You always get 10 per cent of the audience at a dance who are there to make trouble. It doesn't matter whether they are skinheads or rockers, they just want to fight,"

Trouble, however, is not Slade's business. Dave, he's squat like Davy Jones, short haired and wears white plimsolls and socks instead of the usual bovver boots, explained: "For almost a year we went out on gigs as Ambrose Slade, except we kept getting billed as Albert, Arnold or Archie Slade. We were just like any other group ... long hair and all the rest of it. Then I had my hair cut short and all the others followed suit."

The same sort of thing was happening to almost half a million other teenagers AT THE SAME TIME. They found that they were part of the long-haired thing. They realised that they were younger than that and decided to establish themselves as a visible GENERATION by getting their hair chopped.

It cost Noddy Holder, 20, the group's singer, thirty bob and a lot of fooling to have his shoulder length hair cut, "It was incredible. It was almost as if I became another person," he said. And the fans had the same reaction. It was the old ah-ha syndrome at its best, The group APPEARED to be different.

In fact they were playing exactly the same sort of music as before. So the skinheads tagged along. And sadly, from the group's point of view, their old fans left them.

"To start with everybody expected us to play reggae, That was, then, the in thing among skinheads. But we didn't and it didn't matter anyway because as they saw us that was enough. It didn't matter about what we played only what we looked like." Said Noddy.

Which, they are honest enough to admit, is a bit annoying to the group. Because they are all about music. Or they would be if they could.

"Everybody asks us to make the great definitive statement about skinheads but we can't. During the breaks at dances we talk to them and have a pint with them and they are just like your cousin or your sister," said Dave. He went on: “They talk about their families, about their job's and about music. They only talk about skinheads when you ask them and then attribute all the phrases like aggro and so on to the press,"

After the break the group get back on stage and the skinheads start dancing and looning. It's different from the long-hot-summer, flower power, fanciful, free-for-all style of yesterday. By comparison you could almost say the hippies were waltzing."Skinheads don't move their feet when they dance, they stamp them up and down and make one helluva racket. The more noise they can make the better they like it," said Dave.

And they are the same almost everywhere. From Lowestoft to London, Brighton to Basildon, skinheads are clomping (their word not mine) the nights away. More often than not to the sound of Slade. And the group's appearance often louses up the chances of a fair hearing for any other group on the bill.

"As soon as the hairy groups go on all the skinheads start clapping their hands in the air swatting imaginary flies in front of them," said Noddy. Consequently the other groups steer clear of Slade.

"We haven't really got any friends in pop, The other groups all think we are thickies, even though we have been playing together for two and a half years, They steer clear of us.”

Which suits the skinheads. And, incidentally, Slade. Because it may be The Shape Of Things To Come (which is their latest single)