Incinerators, Spotted Cow, York, 1987

Earlier this year I spent some time making digital copies of various old cassettes from the ‘understairs cupboard archive’ — boxes of bits of York’s recent history. Photos, leaflets, bits of ancient 80s ephemera. One of the old tapes, a recording of York band the Incinerators, a quarter of a century old, had begun to disintegrate and had to be carefully and painstakingly stuck back together with sellotape.

Also from last century, but thankfully not rotted away, a few photos of the Incinerators playing at the Spotted Cow, in 1987/8. There’s at least one other person in York who remembers these times, and many remember the Incinerators, and the Spotted Cow as a venue, so I thought I’d share them. I don’t know who took the photos, so if you do, please let me know. Or if they’re yours and you’d like them back.

And here’s some music to go with these photos. Recorded at another fondly-remembered York venue, the Arts Centre.

Or on this link if that embed doesn’t work for you. Many more at soundcloud.com/incinerators-york.

Sadly I’ve not found any photos of happenings at the Arts Centre, so here’s a couple more of the Incinerators playing at the Spotted Cow.

Incinerators, Spotted Cow, York, 1987

In the photo above, in the audience, Mike Bennett, who died earlier this year.

Incinerators, Spotted Cow, York, 1988ish

Not far away, the Spread Eagle on Walmgate, which lured us in with free Yorkshire puddings, and live music, on Sunday lunchtimes, as this snippet from a local magazine records …

Free Yorkshire puddings! – at the Spread Eagle, York (from YourKMusic, 1988ish)

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Comedy Shack leaflet, Nov-Dec 1993

As I’m sure many of us remember, the Bonding wasn’t just a venue for music. Under the arched brick ceilings, by the iron pillars, we gathered around tables to watch many comedians whose names are now familiar.

In what I think is the last of this collection of pages on the Bonding Warehouse (‘Bonding Warehouse Week’ I should perhaps have called it), a few reminders of how the Bonding hosted comedy as well as music, thanks to Mike Bennett’s Comedy Shack.

I remember in particular: Jo Brand, Mark Thomas, and Jeremy Hardy. Here in York’s own Bonding Warehouse.

Press cutting, the end of the Comedy Shack, 1993 (Yorkshire Evening Press)

The Yorkshire Evening Press ‘Preview’ in November 1993 reported the imminent end of the Comedy Shack, a brave and and memorable venture, and one of the things making that building – the Bonding (as we called it) – ours, in that time.

Those of us who were lucky enough to be there might remember, as AJH did in a recent comment, ‘trying not to go to the loo during a performance for fear of being humiliated by an eagle eyed comedian’.

There are no doubt many copies of the Comedy Shack leaflets/posters in boxes in houses in York. But as far as I know there were only a couple of posters signed at the Bonding Warehouse by Jeremy Hardy. And one of them is mine.

Signed poster, Jeremy Hardy at the Bonding Warehouse, York

And this one had a declaration of love.

The cad … disappeared off back Down South and I’ve never seen him since.

Some more reminders of this time:

Comedy Shack, Bonding Warehouse, York – Nov-Dec 1993, programme

Comedy Shack leaflet, Nov-Dec 1993

Comedy Shack leaflet, Sept-Dec 1993

Comedy Shack, Bonding Warehouse, International Women’s Week event

Thanks again to Mike Bennett for making all this happen, at the Bonding Warehouse, when it was ours.

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Hunt saboteurs benefit gig, early 1990s, Bonding Warehouse

The Bonding Warehouse is being remodelled and gentrified. It was ours. It isn’t any more.

This place meant a lot to me, it did to many of us.

When I knew it best it was a place I associated with music. Thought I’d share a few documents rediscovered recently in boxes in the York Stories understairs cupboard ‘archive’, dating from the early 90s to just before it closed in 2000.

Though most of the images on this site are my own work, these aren’t. I’ve added photographer names where I know them.

Bonding Warehouse, early 90s gig

Poster for This Happy Breed and Muleskinners gig, 1992ish

Poster for This Happy Breed gig at Bonding Warehouse, 1993ish

Slider, at the Bonding Warehouse, 1995ish. Photo: ? (unknown)

A reminder of the interior, being at gigs there back then.

Slider, at the Bonding Warehouse, 1995ish. Photo: ? (unknown)

On the Bonding Warehouse balconies, probably 2000, its last summer before closure. Photo: Mark Haigh

The Surf Sluts, who used the upstairs of the Bonding for band practice, on its riverside balconies. These photos probably date from summer 2000, the Bonding’s last summer before closure. Or it could be 1999. Let’s pretend they’re definitely from the Bonding’s ‘Last Summer’, because that makes them more poignant.

In the background, Queen’s Staith, Ouse Bridge, and that massive hotel just past Ouse Bridge.

On the Bonding Warehouse balconies, not long before it closed. Photo: Mark Haigh

On the Bonding balconies: York’s own the Surf Sluts, 2000 or thereabouts

Just making sure we have a record of those balconies from all angles, as most of us will never set foot on them again. Here with the lamps of Skeldergate Bridge in the background.

Bonding Warehouse interior, June 2011. Photo: Graham Stewart

And finally, in 2011, all quiet and empty. Photo emailed to me a few years ago by Graham, who went to view the Bonding Warehouse when it was up for sale (again).

I’m not sure which part of the building this is, exactly. But when I put this photo and a few others online I had one memory surface above all the others – me and my friend Alison dancing rather drunkenly to this, holding glasses of wine, at the end of a long and noisy evening.

It’s now going to be expensive residential accommodation, possibly office space and possibly a restaurant. All rather dull really, compared to its former life. Just glad I knew this building back then. It really was ours, held so many memorable times for so many of us.

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Bonding Warehouse, York, Feb 2014

(There are many, many pages on this building: all Bonding Warehouse pages)

I wonder if another language has the word for the feeling I had when I visited the Bonding Warehouse on Friday. I can’t quite find the right word. And when I say ‘visited’, I mean I went to view it from the road alongside, not that I went in. I doubt I’ll ever go into the Bonding Warehouse again, very few of us will.

It encapsulates, symbolises, stands for, the massive changes in this city in the time I’ve known it.

I remember this building mainly as a venue for music and other live events, through the 1990s. But it has been empty for more than a decade, so I guess whatever was suggested to make it habitable would be approved, which is why the small green area opposite is accommodating the concrete for a private bridge to the expensive accommodation on its upper floor.

All inevitable, no doubt. But this place meant a lot, it really did. Gentrification claims it, and takes it away from us, and its occupants get a private and permanent bridge. I think most people assumed the bridge to offer escape in the event of floods would be a temporary structure, not a permanent one.

‘Exclusive’ – no longer inclusive – Bonding Warehouse, York, Feb 2014

Looking at those ads for ‘exclusive apartments’ hanging off the end of this building was, for me, one of the saddest moments captured on camera in the ten years this site has been online.

I also accept that it’s the only way it could be.

But I’ll be adding to these pages some reminders of the real and recent history of this place. The days (mainly nights) when it belonged to us.

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September 2011

The Barbican Centre opened again this year after a long closure. I can’t remember why it was closed and I have to say I didn’t really care. I’ve gone to gigs here and a meeting, and every time, whatever mood I’ve gone in, I’ve come out in a worse one. For some reason this building has a deeply depressing effect. Kind of the opposite of being in the Minster. If I ever had an uncontrollable bipolar high I’d just go here to bring me down to a more normal miserable level.

Clearly other people frequent it and quite like the place, and it seems to be doing well, and has even hosted a Morrissey gig this year. But I’d only go here again if it hosted something truly and utterly remarkable. The only show I can think of that would bring me back to the Barbican would be if Thomas Fairfax came back to life, rode onto the Barbican stage on his famous white horse, wearing his buff coat, to give a detailed eyewitness account of the 1644 siege of York, and the lost Fairfax mansion in Bishophill, with 17th century poetic preacher Simeon Ashe as his special guest. And perhaps if the buff coat was thrown into the audience afterwards and I caught it. It would have to be all that for me to have even a reasonable night in this strange and soulless building.

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