Newcastle is a city of people who do favours for friends. Last week the manager of the Tyneside Irish Centre said that someone we know was replacing a knackered door for the cost of the materials only, people lend each other things, they look out for one another, it’s not good or bad behaviour, it’s normal. So that’s how I ended up lumping a PA system, (courtesy of the Tyneside Irish Cultural Society), up the hill to St. James Church in Benwell, (the one opposite Lidl), where Benstock ’24 awaited me.
Benstock
“Benstock”, or “Woodstock for Benwell”, is perhaps a little less well known and popular that its famous forebear. It’s not even remotely the biggest festival on in town on Saturday 3 August 2024; that position goes to “Loosefest”, (Why do we get such unimaginative names for Festivals here by the way? That and “Novum Festival” should be swiftly ditched) which looms in its big top on the town moor behind a recreation of The Berlin Wall along the Great North Road. This is again typically unfair to Benwell, as the lousy ancient Romans built their wall through it in the first place, then the lousy modern hikers further insulted the place by deciding that the actual path of the actual wall wasn’t suitable for their “Roman Wall trek”. Meanwhile, the absence of attention paid to the world’s first underground railway, which currently festers underneath what used to be “Byker Grove”, and the fact that “Byker Grove” was nowhere near Byker anyway could convince any Benwellian that they don’t get their fair share of any positive profile.
Maybe that publicity was all used up in the old days? The venue itself is a fascinating glimpse into the tidal wave of innovation, blood and effort that built the foundations of our modern world. It’s a high church literally built on the seam of coal which propelled John Buddle into the first rank of the oligarchs of industrial exploitation. His legacy, from the money he made, the technology that he promoted, the many lives that his pits ended, the boys forced to work there, the unions that he fought against and his prominence as the “King of Coal” is now a fading shadow. The graveyard of St. James houses his tomb which he supervised the building of inside that very coal seam which made his first fortune. At least he was entombed in coal voluntarily; unlike the many victims of his avarice who never got out of their seams when, in the immortal words of Alex Glasgow, they felt “the blackness slide”. Now though, the church is damp, its electricity is dodgy, its heating is inefficient and instead of exploitative friends of the aristocracy, the church houses community groups which help the people with their life, art and culture. Instead of the classical cello which Buddle played, they played rock music at loud level, cans were drunk and people danced and laughed. Buddle’s bones lie outside in the dark and maybe someday we can get round to renaming the various buildings that carry his name?
So, back to the light and happiness of Benstock; there were six bands from the delightful Lily who started the gig a nervous kid and left the stage to a cheering audience impressed by her clarity, range and talent. The infectious singing of Darren Wild with his Looper getting them dancing and “direct from a tour of Canada”, Holly Rees with just her acoustic guitar with no soundcheck or preparation just wowed the place with her power and depth. That was the first half and to be fair, it was pretty much what I would expect. I’ve been roadying bands for 45 years so you expect skill and competence from musicians, they all have a means of communicating their emotional spirit from deep within themselves and most audiences, faced with the bravery and creativity of someone who can sing and play and are amplified can only watch in awe and then applaud in gratitude.
The three bands after the interval were to take this to another level though. The first, “God of Wor” made up of the organiser, a talented guitar player called Echo and his Dad on bass with three other church fathers, avoided the temptation not to call themselves “Echo and the Daddymen” and started the second half off with some covers and happy noise after a bit of a crisis with a Bass Combo forced a DI recovery into the mixing desk. Then two bands of young kids just rocked the hell out of the place. The first, a band called “Deck” had the ingredients, a good bass player, a tremendous drummer, and two lead singers, male and female; the male ,(and I’m being serious), reminded me of a very young Eric Burdon because of his angry diminutive swagger, his power and his rebellious scowl. Tell your kids to go and see them. They’re called “Deck”. Not Dec, who had famous parents who ran the old Irish Club, but that was in Elswick, not Benwell.
The last band was “Social Youth Cult”. I don’t know if they were playing covers, but I doubt it. In my defence I’m a 60 year old man who had seen the bands these kids had t-shirts of and who hasn’t voluntarily listened to any music made after 1987 and has no clue and doesn’t want to have any idea about what’s current, what’s trendy and what’s happening these days, so don’t ask me what they played… but it was damned good. Really, really good. It sounded like a rasping mixture of the Sisters of Mercy with a Black Sabbath guitar riff breaking through on top. Unlike the Sisters who, for those of us who remember the 1984 gigs, used a big tape recorder thing, they play their own instruments extremely well and have the presence and talent to be very successful very soon. Watch out for your kids wanting to go and see this band because they have the attitude and the appetite, as well as the talent to succeed in the vicious business of music that sees thousands paying hundreds to be in a big disco in a clowns tent on the town moor but only a few dozen in a Goths paradise inside a dark Victorian Church in Benwell. Maybe the “Benstock ‘24” T-shirts will be collectors’ items in days to come, but at least the money raised goes towards Something Wonderful.
Something Wonderful
The capitals are intentional by the way. “Something Wonderful” is the art group at St. James that gives people the materials, guidance and hope to become artists and to record their lives and thoughts on canvas. It is one of the many important and virtually unknown things in Benwell that deserve more prominence and help. Please watch out for their work and, if interested go along to that, the writing group and the Pathways advice and advocacy service. I’d stay away from the religious stuff but that’s because I’m a black-hearted heathen who’s good friends with the bishop who helps with NUFC Fans Foodbank, but that’s up to you.
Packing up, foodbanks and a safe place
There was one final logistical nightmare. The unpacking and removal of a rock PA system from a church back to the protected security of the club. Now I’m too old to be lumping bass bins and the like but it got done and switching on the radio which had Steven Nolan broadcasting live tales of racist rioting breaking out everywhere, I was slightly concerned by the possibilities of trouble. It can happen, even here. Thankfully Newcastle passed that test, at least for that night as Adelaide Terrace and Elswick Road with its plethora of identities were quiet. The West Road was subdued, and the Irish Centre a Hogarthian mass of happy drinking and, once I’d dropped the gear, encased in my own sweat and going home along Shields Road and down past the Buffs Club, not a sign of anything untoward. A hot summer’s night after a great gig which raised a few quid for people doing good things and elevated the spirit of everyone there. May that be remembered and may its good works carry on. I recommend St. James Church to you all. and, whilst I’m here, NUFC Fans Foodbank will be collecting for Newcastle Foodbank outside St. James Park on Friday night and Saturday afternoon before the friendly matches. I hope and believe that this is the last season that we’ll have to do this, that the new government will eliminate the need for citizens to do its job by feeding the 62,000 people who needed assistance from the foodbank last year, but we have a job to do in the short term at least.
I also hope and believe that there will be no racist riot in our streets next Saturday. Anyone stupid enough to kick off near Grey’s Monuments should know that there are lots of cameras there and the various “Statue Defenders” are still encased in HMP Acklington, probably wishing they were somewhere else, like a good gig on a warm summers night. So, from a city which does favours for friends, those who we know and some that we don’t, I’ll tell you that acting the racist in a city whose star centre forward is the son of a refugee, whose team come on to the theme from “Local Hero” which was written and performed by the son of a refugee and this article’s author is a grandson of a refugee and a Benwell pitman is unlikely to help you make new friends. Let’s stay friends and look forward to a city with more culture and no foodbanks. The last words are from my Pitman Rescue Brigade Benwell grandad – “Keep a’had and leave no one behind.”
