Depeche Mode Arrive...

It was March 1980, and Vince Clarke and Andy Fletcher formed a band called Composition of Sound. The lads had been in various bands for a couple of years, with no success - but they were very young at the time and international stardom was probably not their aim.

In fact, even in 1980, none of the lads could have dreamt of what was about to happen.

Andy Fletcher then met up with his ex-classmate Martin Gore at the Van Gogh Club and asked him to join.

Official Depeche Mode history: The new band was called 'Composition of Sound' at the time of their first gig at the end of May 1980. The original Depeche Mode line-up was all present and correct by that time as Dave Gahan had just joined. More here.

After the formation of the three-piece Composition of Sound, Clarke and Fletcher switched to synthesisers, working odd jobs so they could buy them - or borrowing them from friends. The group was soon joined by the essential lead singer Dave Gahan and DEPECHE MODE was born. The location was Basildon, Essex, England.

In December 1980 their local paper, The Basildon Echo, commented: 

POSH CLOBBER COULD CLINCH IT FOR MODE -

Some of these perfumed, ponced up futuristic pop bands don't hold a candle to these four Basildon lads. They are Depeche Mode who would go a long way if someone pointed them in the direction of a decent tailor.

The photograph above was taken around 1981, the year the group first charted, and I think they look great! I love Depeche Mode.

Their first "hit" - Dreaming of Me, released in February 1981, reached No 57 in the charts, but the follow-up, New Life, released in June, went all the way to No 11. By the end of the year, the group had broken into the Top Ten with Just Can't Get Enough and released their first album, Speak and Spell.

Vince Clarke departed the band in late 1981 (we hadn't heard the last of him!) and Alan Wilder joined in early 1982.

Depeche Mode had arrived. Back in the early 1980s, I remember my mates and I pronouncing it "Depeché Mode" - in fact it seemed to be quite a widespread thing.

Why? 

'Cos we woz fik.

A First Glimpse Of Prince...

A first glimpse of Prince - the funky American pop maestro, who was bringing what was being touted as "US Punkfunk" to England in this 1981 newspaper ad for the New Musical Express.

Whilst some attribute the origins of Punk to the likes of Iggy Pop in the America of the late 1960s, America's fully-fledged Punk scene was, of course, later than ours and lacked the snarling attitude (and repeated 1950s guitar riffs!) of bands like the Sex Pistols.

Prince first charted here in February 1983 with 1999.

Bruce Springsteen was also heading our way and were the Rolling Stones about to split up? There was only one way to discover the answers - buy a copy of the New Musical Express, "your ruder rudder through life's stormy seas".

The ad's "Di" and "Charlie" references reflected 1981's outbreak of Royal Wedding fever.

New Romantics

 August 1980 - the release of Ashes To Ashes, with its groundbreaking video, was a great moment for David Bowie - and propelled the Blitz Kids and others towards the pop scene to form the New Romantics, the first big 1980s music and fashion scene.

20th Century Words by John Ayto traces the term "New Romantic" to 1980. So, what was a New Romantic? Late 1980 saw the emergence of two acts - Adam And The Ants and Spandau Ballet - into the upper echelons of the pop charts. They gave us Ant Music and To Cut A Long Story Short, respectively, and although both songs were very different, the Ants and the Ballet blokes were both heavy on the face make-up and the dashing outfits of years long, long past.

And, suddenly, we were all talking of New Romantics.

1981 brought a flurry of them into our lives - including, of course, Duran Duran and Ultravox. Planet Earth, complete with video, was very typical of the scene - synths, futuristic setting, OTT dandy flounces, lashings of lippy, and bizarre hairdos. The movement crossed over to America and Kim Carnes sent us the divine Bette Davis Eyes. 

TV Times, June 1981. How would you feel if your son looked like Adam Ant? If he'd lived where I lived, he'd probably have got seriously punched. But although nobody I knew was brave enough to adopt the image, Adam And The Ants were immensely popular with us lads.

So, the first big new pop sensation of the fledgling 1980s. How did it all begin?

Well, that's not quite what it seems! Read up on it elsewhere and you'll find that it all seems to have originated from a club called The Blitz Club in London, whose patrons paid homage to David Bowie - apparently dubbing themselves "Blitz Kids". Or was it somewhere called Billy's? Or both? Or...

Anyway, it was a dressy night club scene - or a couple of dressy night club scenes - where men wore make up and/or flamboyant outfits

The UK press created the "New Romantics" tag when Adam and the Ants and Spandau Ballet first hit the pop charts in late 1980.

David Bowie, of course, had been exciting the pop scene since 1969, and was very heavy on image. Was he Ziggy Stardust? A Thin White Duke (goodness, I thought that particular image was bloody boring and so retro!), but whatever he was he attracted dedicated followers in droves and his music brought flashes of sheer brilliance. 

In 1980, David had another one of those flashes - with his Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) album, and a single which would be included on this album, released in August 1980, although not officially classed as a New Romantic song, was what kick-started the scene. That song was, of course, Ashes To Ashes.

The video (or "promo" as we referred to them back then) was striking and hugely expensive, and featured Steve Strange, who wowed the pop charts in 1981 and 1982 with Visage hits like Fade To Grey and Mind Of A Toy.

But not all of those considered New Romantics in the early 1980s were part of The Blitz Club scene - Adam And The Ants for instance. 

And I can certainly state that I'd never heard of the Blitz and what attracted me to the New Romantic style was that I had simply had enough of the gobbiness and run-down seediness that had dominated the previous decade.

Several years before the New Romantics, as I lurched into my teens, I was yearning for something a bit more flash, a bit more stylish. I was depressed with the thick layer of mould up my bedroom wall, my threadbare "make do and mend", often hand-me-down clothes. 

I craved for glamour and excitement. I'm sure I was not alone! There was simply something in the air - many of us wanted a change. 

After the likes of Slade shouting their mouths off - as tacky as you please, the sleaziness of the Disco scene and the hopelessness (and, of course big gobbedness) of Punk, plus the oh-so-unoriginal 1970s revivals of 1950s style, 1960s mods and rockers (no thank you, Paul Weller!), plus the '60s ska scene and rockabilly, I was hungry to dress up, desperately hoping that the 1980s would be different.

And they were.

And probably the first manifestation of that was the emergence of the New Romantics in late 1980.

The wonderful Roxy Music, still going strong in the early 1980s, are considered to be an influence on the New Romantics, and I'm sure the group was, but the New Romantics, despite their precursors, were still startling and fresh at the time.

Boy George, of course, was part of the Blitz Club scene, he worked as a cloakroom attendant there, and he was an early New Romantic for sure -  but by the time he made his chart debut in 1982, the New Romantic thing, which had burned fiercely from late 1980 and throughout 1981, had fizzled as far as we the public were concerned. So, The Boy was, at the time, greeted as a stand alone newcomer, a unique individual, loved or loathed. Similarly, A Flock Of Seagulls, who had chart success in late 1982 with Wishing, whilst looking very New Romantic indeed, were not, at the time (as far as I remember!) labelled as such.

Let's hear it for the boy - Boy George, of course - before fame, pictured in the Daily Mirror in April 1981. Although an original New Romantic mover, shaker and trendsetter, by the time he arrived in the pop charts in 1982, the New Romantic scene was just about dead and buried. So, he was regarded simply as Boy George. And his own very personal sense of style inspired admiration, clones, and some homophobia. Soon-to-find-fame George (as seen in the newspaper picture), then simply referred to as George O'Dowd, 19, was wearing Chinese slippers (£3.99), old school trousers he'd tapered himself, and leg warmers. A 1920s dress (20p, Oxfam) was draped around his waist. The tassle belts, the long scarf, and Oxfam beads around his neck, cost him a few pence, the crimplene blouse came from his mum and the wooden cross from a friend. A black felt hat and assorted earrings completed his outfit.

Adam and the Ants.. well, Adam - AKA Stuart Goddard - has stated that his early '80s pop venture was not part of the New Romantic movement. I never knew at the time. Loved the band and saw it as very much part of the New Romantic thing way back then. Sorry, Adam! I still love you and the Ants - whatever you were!

Two groups which I was labelling "New Romantic" long after 1981 were Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet. They were always and forever "New Romantics" to me. I loved the way the Duranies dropped the frillies for those gorgeous brightly-coloured suits - and the 1982 Rio video marked a turning point in my own personal fashion statements. 

 A change of image for Duran Duran, seen here in 1981 and 1982. Loved the colourful suits with pushed up sleeves and large shoulders!

Even now, knocking on towards fifty, I still feel a stirring of youthful (if that's possible at my age!) excitement at the thought of the New Romantics and the blossoming synth pop scene of the early 1980s in general. Combined, these two factors were the first indication that 1980s music and fashion were going to be OK for me. And, as it turned out, brilliant!

Madness

The '70s revival of the '60s scene brought about the creation of bands like the Jam, the film Quadrophenia and a revival of Mods and Rockers style. 1979 saw a ska revival bubbling up in the charts. Although Ska was a revival, the groups had a very turn-of-the '80s attitude.

A band which had had two very brief incarnations as The North London Invaders and Morris And The Minors became Madness in 1979 and were very much part of the ska revival scene when they first charted in the September of that year.

Madness soon brought us their very own "Nutty Sound", incorporating elements of ska, fairground music and other things. The Madness logo seen above seemed to be everywhere in the early 1980s.

The band launched themselves on the brand new decade with gusto - and were the first band to appear on Top Of The Pops in 1980, performing My Girl on 3 January.

From the Daily Mirror, 6 May, 1980:

Sheer Madness! Nutty Band Drive The Fans Crazy

Madness are a crazy gang of cheerful loons who live up to their name.

Their outlandish brands of lunacy drive the fans barmy.

And that bouncy, ska-type music - the "nutty sound" they call it - has shot the odd-ball group to success.

Their album "One Step Beyond" has sold more than half-a-million copies.

The seven-man outfit from North London used to waltz on stage doing the "nutty train", a ska-type conga. Now they have a new trick - the "nutty pyramid", with all the guys hanging off each other. They've nicknamed themselves "The Flying Fellinis".

Nuttier still, says Chas Smash, was the group's Spanish version of their hit single "One Step Beyond".

"We heard a Spanish group was going to do a cover version so we thought we'd get in first. None of us can speak Spanish but we learned the words for that."

Chas, 21, was a fan who used to jump on stage and bop away.

They couldn't get rid of him - so he was drafted into the group.

Now he's the leaping, lunatic resident dancer.

Madness got together as a group two years ago.

It all started as a bit of a giggle - something to do on a Saturday night.

In those days most of the guys were musical novices.

Lead singer Suggs - real name Graham McPherson - had such a lousy voice he was kicked out of the band at one point.

Gradually they got better - and persistence paid off.

It's all got beyond a joke now. People actually take the group seriously.

They finish their current twenty-date British tour on Saturday.

Then it's off to Europe for another tour, back here for more dates, and then into the studio to record more nutty sounds.

It just shows what can happen when you take a joke seriously!

Madness did not subscribe to Pink Floyd's Another Brick In The Wall theory that school teachers were out to subdue and mould their charges. Suggs thought that his teachers had found school as much of a drag/challenge as the pupils. So, in 1980, the band came up with Baggy Trousers.

Loved it. Still love it.

All together now: "All the teachers in the pub, passing round the ready-rub, trying not to think of when that lunchtime bell will ring again!"

Talking of school days, Madness saw me through the final years of my compulsory education, and out into the world of work.

Those early '80s school days seem a very happy time. In retrospect. Rubik's Cubes and fags in the bike sheds. Young love and Adam And The Ants. And our gorgeous year tutor. She was a highly attractive and witty woman. And when I meet with old schoolmates now we're still known to drool at the memory of her.

Her wit was legendary. One hot summer's day, she requested that somebody open one of the windows in the classroom. Usually known for my sluggishness (and greasy hair and zits) I flew to do her bidding. Said Mrs B: "Good heavens, Andrew, you'll have a leg fly off behaving like that!"

On another occasion, in the fifth year, my mate Chris came in sporting a large love bite.

Said Mrs B, as she passed us in the corridor, "I'd kill that ferret of yours if I was you, Chris!"

Happy days. Lots of laughs at school. And then home for gloriously unsophisticated grub like sausages, instant mash and baked beans and then Crossroads...

Our House In The Middle Of Our Street...

From the Sun, 16 October, 1981:

Madnificent seven can't miss

By Nina Myskow

MADNESS may be nutty, but they are certainly not daft. Our Baggy Trouser boys are no red-nosed clowns.

No band can score with NINE consecutive hit singles and just be a bunch of buffoons.

Because that is exactly what the seven-man North London band have achieved.

Their single, Shut Up (Stiff), is the ninth Top Twenty hit in a row. Their new album, Madness 7 (Stiff), is perched solidly at No 5. They just cannot miss. So what next?

Lead singer Suggs, 20, says: "You just write the songs, record 'em, release 'em and they go up the charts. Failure is the only thing left!"

Their career is now taking off in another direction - into films.

On Wednesday, "Take It Or Leave It", the story of their early years, was premiered at the Gate Three Cinema in Camden Town. Their local.

The boys put up half the money for the film, £250,000.

And, after the mad movie, thee was a family knees-up in the Dublin Castle, the Camden pub where they first found fame - and shot the final scene of the film.

The boys loved every moment of the nutty nonsense.

Suggs said: "A year ago, we got a bit tired of all the silliness. People expected us to behave like idiots, sort of on-tap loonies. We struggled against it, but in the end we realised that people must take us as they find us."

I find them smashing. They haven't changed a bit from the day I first met them almost two years ago.

Lee Thompson, for instance, is unlike the average wealthy star.

Not for him the flashy Rolls-Royce. Instead, a pushbike.

Thompson says: "I could get a maid to do my washing and that, but I don't want it. You could get lazy like that. I like to wash my own socks."

Suggs says: "The film is based on fact. It has been exaggerated and dramatised a bit. but that's how it was. The only slight problem was that only a certain number of non-Equity members were allowed to act. Some of our Mums and Dads and friends are played by actors and actresses, which is a shame.

"Our work is fun. We love it - as long as the music goes on getting better and better."

And as long as they go on having fun they'll keep on going. The Magnificent, MADnificent Seven.

There was a trend in the early-to-mid 1980s for covering jacket lapels with badges - tiny button badges were particularly popular. Favourite subjects were pop groups (I was a Madness freak), Rubik's Cubes, CND, Greenpeace and slogans like "The Only Good Tory Is A Lavatory".

Our brilliant Nutty Boys simply couldn't help churning out classics. House of Fun, that wacky tale of an attempt to make an important first purchase at the chemist's, was Number One in the pop charts when I left school in 1982. Years later, Suggs described Madness as "The Fagins of the schoolyard," and certainly the band was extremely popular with me and the other lads down at the local comp. We continued to follow its glorious pottiness avidly after we left, too.

In 1982, I walked through the school gates for the last time and out into the big wide world. Memories of the time are surrounded by a strange fairground-type aura, probably courtesy of Madness being at Number One, and their lyrics being on everyones' lips, and deelyboppers, which arrived at the same time!

Deelyboppers - bonkers fashion for 1982! 

Thoughts of Madness bring back happy memories. And their lyrics weren't always simply nutty. Remember Embarrassment?

If you're a Madness fan, you probably find that their lyrics can pop into your head at any moment. I do. Only last week, I managed to make several pretty large errors at work. My colleagues frowned. My colleagues scowled.

And for the rest of the morning I was singing to myself: "Now pass the blame and don't blame me..."

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 07/08/2009. UPDATED 18/8/12

The Human League

The Human League arrived - first hitting the Top 40 in May 1981 with Sound of the Crowd.

The original Human League had formed in 1977, and there were several changes in line-up (two of the original members who left in 1980 later formed Heaven 17) before the vast majority of us discovered a rather different version of the group which came together in 1980.

One of the pivotal moments in the band's history was when vocalist Phil Oakey asked Susan Ann Sulley and Joanne Catherall (then school girls aged 17 and 18) to join, having spotted them dancing at The Crazy Daisy Nightclub, Sheffield, in October 1980.

Oakey was faced with the highly difficult task of recruiting new band members within a matter of days when he spotted Susan Ann and Joanne.

The girls were originally recruited as "guests" to the group, to dance and provide incidental vocals on a European tour. Many fans of the obscure original Human League group were disgruntled to see the dancing girls, expecting the original all-male line-up. Legend has it that thrown beer cans and some heckling was the result.

But, despite this, on returning to England in December 1980, the girls were made full members of The Human League.

The band gave us a distinctly unseasonal Christmas Number One in 1981 - Don't You Want Me.

Classic.

I love the Human League. If I hear one of their early-to-mid 1980s hits, I'm transported back... I can smell the hair gel, see that jumbled Rubik's Cube sitting smugly on the settee, hear the Space Invaders and Pac-Man machines burbling, feel the tensions of O' Levels and job hunting and the happiness of becoming a wage earner...

It's not just nostalgia. I think that the Human League are brilliant - then, now, forever.

Buster Bloodvessel And Bad Manners

I loved Buster Bloodvessel and Bad Manners - one of the best things to ever happen to our pop charts. This is the Special Brew picture disc - cheers, Buster!

Here, Buster demonstrates posh nosh for the 1980s on Tiswas - pork pie broken up into a jar of pickled onions and swigged down straight from the jar. Yum!

The Sun, 8 July 1981 - and Buster Bloodvessel and Bad Manners are kicking up their Doc Martens for their version of The Can Can. Bliss. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

FRILLY BUSTER

Can-can your eyes believe it?

Big, bald, beefy Buster Bloodvessel, the lead singer of Bad Manners, as a can-can girl?

If you saw last week's Top Of The Pops they certainly can-can!

Buster, 22, is notorious in the pop world for looking outrageous.

But this time he has really done it. He turned himself into an ooh-la-la lovely to celebrate Bad Manners' sixth hit single, Can Can, which shot to No 3 in just ten days.

I was invited to Buster's final fitting of the bouncy, frilly frock.

There was our pin up-in all his glory. A lurid, yellow, shiny frock festooned with petticoats and ghastly black lace.

And poking out from under it all, his massive Doc Marten boots.

It took dressmaker Roz Tosh about twenty minutes to get round him. At 5ft 9in he measures 46-42½-45.

Our hero grinned and flexed his muscles.

Buster said: "I've always fancied the Can Can dancers - very ooh-la-la - but it wasn't until I heard the original version that I realised we should do it.

"Orpheus In The Underworld it is, actually.

"It came on the car radio one day when I was driving to a mate's home. It just blew my ears off.

"The others were as knocked out by it as I was."

Bad Manners have hardly put a foot wrong since.

The nine-man North London band have had little bovver when it comes to hits.

Buster (or Doug as his friends call him) is a nice, cheerful, friendly, fun bloke.

"Of course I'm happy," he said. "Of course I'm jokey. You have to be when you walk down the street and can hear people shouting 'Look at that fat bloke with the bald head'."

Buster lives at home with his mum in Stoke Newington, North London.

"We are all on £60 a week, so there's no way we can be flash on that," he said. "But I'm not complaining.

"I couldn't be happier. I couldn't give THIS for money."

And with an almighty effort he whooshed his right Doc Marten boot up in a kick as high as his head.

Roz said: "I'm thinking of offering his dress to Lady Di when Buster's finished with it."

It could always double as the marquee for her wedding reception!

The Sun again, October 23, 1981:

O Buster!

A Superman hit means he's quids down!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's... Buster Bloodvessel!

Pop's loveable bruiser donned his Superman suit this week after losing a £10 bet over Laurie Anderson's smash hit O Superman.

Bad Manners lead singer Buster, 23, says: "I went round to a mate's house a couple of weeks ago and he was playing this weird record called O Superman.

"He was jumping up and down, saying, 'Listen to this. It's going to be a big hit.'

"With great wisdom I said, 'Pull the other one.'

"It's a smashing record, but I never thought it would be a hit. So I bet him a tenner.

"Now it's at Number Two, and it looks like it'll soon be Number One!"

But Buster - real name Doug Trendle - is taking his losses lightly.

This week, Bad Manners notch up their fifth Top Twenty hit with Walkin' In The Sunshine (Magnet), and their new album Gosh It's Bad Manners has hurtled in at number 26.

What's more pop's unlikeliest pin-up looks set for a lucrative career in advertising.

He says: "I have to shove my head every morning. And I figured that since I use so much shaving foam and razor blades I might as well get paid for publicising it. Makes sense, dunnit?

"So I wrote off to a couple of companies and, would you believe it, they're interested.

And he is writing to the Milk Marketing Board (he drinks pints of it) and to every beer company (he drinks gallons of that, too). But his greatest ambition is to promote picked onions. He says: "Pickled onions are unbeatable. My trick is to open the jar, eat half the onions, then stick a pork pie in and shake it about a bit before swallowing the whole lot down. Lovely!"

British audiences will be seeing a lot more of Buster and the boys on stage. The nine-man band kicked off a marathon British tour last night in Birmingham.

They are playing 23 gigs in as many days and Buster does not deny that even his legendary energy will be sapped.

The boys drink "a few crates" before each performance and Buster downs six pints afterwards.

"Otherwise," he says, "I would be in danger of losing my figure." Beefy Buster has never considered his rippling 18 stones to be a problem.

He says: "I never used to think about my size until people started saying I was fat.

"But I don't care. My Beauty is part of my irresistible charm to women."

The Sun's Gossip Column revealed exclusively this week that Buster has been asked to pose in the all-together by a woman's magazine.

Buster still lives with his parents in Stoke Newington, North London. He would love to buy a place of his own, but he is in no rush to marry.

He says: "I'm a young lad yet with women dropping at my feet - literally.

"I might be big and bald and beautiful, but it's my boots they go for!"

The Human League

The Human League arrived - first hitting the Top 40 in May 1981 with Sound of the Crowd.

The original Human League had formed in 1977, and there were several changes in line-up before the vast majority of us discovered a rather different version of the group which came together in 1980.

The pivotal moments in the band's '80s history came when vocalist Phil Oakey asked Susan Ann Sulley and Joanne Catherall (then school girls aged 17 and 18) to join, having spotted them dancing at The Crazy Daisy Nightclub, Sheffield, in October 1980.

Oakey was faced with the highly difficult task of recruiting new band members within a matter of days for a European tour. The original group was in tatters after two founding members (Ian Craig Marsh and Martyn Ware, who later formed Heaven 17) had suddenly left, but a European tour had been arranged before this and now Oakey was faced with honouring it, or being sued by the promoters. He was looking out for a female vocalist when he spotted Susan Ann and Joanne dancing.

The girls were originally recruited as "guests" to the group, to dance and provide incidental vocals on the European tour. Many fans of the obscure original Human League group were disgruntled to see the dancing girls, expecting the original all-male line-up. Legend has it that thrown beer cans and some heckling were the result.

But, despite this, on returning to England in December 1980, the girls were made full members of The Human League.

The band gave us a distinctly unseasonal Christmas Number One in 1981 - Don't You Want Me.

Classic.

I love the Human League. If I hear one of their early-to-mid 1980s hits, I'm transported back... I can smell the hair gel, see that jumbled Rubik's Cube sitting smugly on the settee, hear the Space Invaders and Pac-Man machines burbling, feel the tensions of O' Levels and job hunting and the happiness of becoming a wage earner...

It's not just nostalgia. I think that The Human League are brilliant - then, now, forever.

CB Radio

Legal Citizens Band radio? The "Daily Mirror", 8/5/1980. Cockney model and actress Lorraine Chase is also on the front page as she had just begun work on "The Other 'Arf", a new sitcom.

In 1980, CB radio, invented by American Al Gross in the 1940s and in use in the USA since the 1950s, was illegal in England. Illegal CB usage had been known in a very small way here since the mid-1960s according to information in one of my early 1980s CB magazines, but 1980 saw the number of breakers swell enormously.
 
The Daily Mirror article brought hopeful news:
 
Good news for Rubber Duck and his two-way chats

HELLO TO ROAD RADIO

Britain's outlawed Citizens' Band radio fans got a welcome message last night.
 
Home Secretary William Whitelaw announced that the Government is in favour of introducing a legal two-way radio system.
 
If plans go ahead, motorists and lorry drivers using call signs like Rubber Duck could be chatting on an approved system called Open Channel some time next year.
 
Mr Whitelaw made it plain to MPs that although the Government backs CB radio in principle, technical problems will have to be overcome.
 
He also wants to sound out public opinion before taking a final decision.
 
CB radio is already widely used in the United States and on the Continent.
 
Lorries and many private cars are fitted with special transceivers so that their drivers can chat over the air.
 
Using their own slang, drivers can warn that Smokey Bear (the police) has got black ice (a radar trap) ahead.
 
They have peculiar call signs like Snowman, woodpecker - and Rubber Duck, made famous by the hit record and film "Convoy".
 
CB radio fans who have been campaigning in Britain for five years claim that between 30,000 and 70,000 sets are already on the air here.
 
Their operators risk a £400 fine or six months in jail.
 
Critics object to CB because it operates on a frequency which could lead to interference with emergency services and aircraft.

Food for thought for William Whitelaw from MP Clement Freud in July 1980. 


Remember good old Sheila Tracy on BBC Radio Two's You and The Night and The Music? Sheila provided music and chat for "all you night owls out there", and was a lovely presence on night time radio.
 
In 1980, she began a slot for truckers' messages and requests and was soon riding the crest of the early '80s CB radio wave.

As mentioned elsewhere in this post, CB was up-and-running in the USA in the 1950s, but in England it was illegal. 
 
Nevethertheless, small numbers of people had been flirting with it here since the 1960s, and a couple of films (remember Convoy?!) and hit records (remember Convoy the song?!) created a more general interest in CB jargon (and truckers!) in the late 1970s.

Around 1979 a very small number of people were using illegally imported CB radios in this country. In 1980 the number of breakers rose sharply. Legalisation was now in the air, although this did not actually happen until 2 November 1981.

One of the things many people forget - or simply don't know - about the '80s CB radio craze is that it wasn't until the 1980s that even 50% of the UK population had a land-line phone (no mobiles until 1985 - the first 'bricks'). Being able to chat to people in your front room who weren't actually there with you was novel and exciting to many.

In March 1981, CB jargon (and illegal CB!) was going great guns with enthusiasts in this country, not least truckers, and Sheila Tracy was their heroine...

From the Sun, March 17, 1981:

The voice has those soothing "Family Favourite" tones that you expect to hear asking Bill Crozier what the weather is like in Cologne.

It brings to mind twin-sets, pearls and sensible shoes.

But the vocabulary comes straight from the American freeways.

"This is Tiger Tim, how am I hittin' you good buddies - wall-to-wall and tree-top-tall I hope."

Sheila Tracy, Britain's first and least likely truckers' deejay is on the air again. And all over the country night-drivers tune in to the ten-four and smokey-bear jargon that is sweeping Britain.

Once there was wireless and long-distance lorry drivers. Now, following American fashion of course, we have Citizens' Band radio and truckers. And Sheila. Just over a year ago, she started including a truckers' hour in her once-a-week, all-night record programme on Radio Two.

It has become such a runaway success that the BBC are now going to put it out five nights a week. And Sheila is frantically studying her CB dictionary.

As Tiger Tim - her handle as they call nicknames in the CB world - she plays truckin' songs, Country and western music and relays messages to the night traffic.

A driver who thumbed a lift and left his atlas behind. Wives sending love to their travelling husbands.

Drivers with names like Clog Dancer and Little Fat Man send cheerful and occasionally cheeky messages via Sheila.

"Tell Short Arms to get his hand in his pocket and buy the teas," she repeats faithfully.

And in transport cafes all over the country the drivers whoop with laughter.

It is not just lorry drivers either. Groups of schoolboys take it in turns to sit up and tape her show...

It has all left Sheila rather breathless. She is 46 and has been a BBC personality for years.

She was a television announcer for some time then moved to radio and was the first woman to read the radio news.

Before that she was a trombonist with the Ivy Benson All Girls' Band and worked as a variety artist in an act called the Tracy Sisters.

But none of this showbusiness pedigree prepared her for the impenetrable language of the truckers.

She first heard a truckers' programme in America, run by Big John Trimble, the truckers' deejay. And she decided to try a slot in her programme, "You, The Night And The Music".

A lorry driver sent her a copy of an American dictionary of CB truckers' language and now she speaks it like a native, even if she is not always sure what she is saying.

"Seventy-three and eighty-eight," she says, "and ten-ten till we do it again."

Whatever does it mean?

"I think it means love and kisses," she says, uncertainly, and has to check her dictionary to make sure.

Some of her fans have made her up an American-style number plate with the title "Tiger Tim - The Truckers' Friend," emblazoned on it. And she proudly displays it in the rear window of her car.

"But I haven't had a flash yet," she says.

Good heavens, I should think NOT.

No, Sheila explains patiently, a flash means a headlamp signal.

She has been caught out once or twice herself, though.

"Some of the blighters send me rude messages and I've read them out without realising," she says.

Several drivers sent messages to friends they described as bar-stewards. And it was only when she tried saying it quickly that she realised what they meant...

One of the fears about widespread use of CB, which had deterred previous attempts to legalise it, was the notion that it might interfere with other communications systems or electronic equipment. And not just remote controlled model aircraft. There certainly were times, as illegal CB usage rocketed in 1981, when those concerns appeared to be justified...

HOSPITAL HEART MACHINES HIT BY CB CALLS
 
Sun, 12/8/1981
 
Citizen band radio users were warned last night that their broadcasts can interfere with heart monitoring machines in hospitals.

The disturbing discovery was made by Torbay Hospital in South Devon, who said that electrocardiograph machines cut out when CBs are used nearby.

Hospital administrator Ken Dainton said: "We are particularly prone to it here because enthusiasts use their sets to warn others about holiday traffic jams on the Torquay road.

"So far only monitoring machines are affected. But it could be devastating if these broadcasts affect other electronic machinery."

Mr Dainton said local CB clubs had observed a radio silence within a mile of the hospital.

Another CB danger was revealed yesterday by fire chiefs in Greater Manchester.

They are trying to track down a chatterbox housewife whose broadcasts are blocking the wavebands of emergency services.

The woman's equipment is faulty and her chats about dogs, cats and birds "fan" out into the frequency used if there was a major train or air disaster.
 
Other reports of CB complications had a delicious touch of comedy as the illegal CB craze went into overdrive in the run-up to legalisation...  

CB FROM ON HIGH

Daily Mirror, 5/10/1981

Citizens Band fans are being received loud and clear on the Rev. Roger Hall's church microphone. One voice even broke in while Mr Hall was conducting his daughter Beverley's wedding.

As the couple took their solemn vows, it said: "OK - time for a tea break." Mr Hall, of Coventry, said: "It was just like the voice of the Almighty."

From the Sun, October 23, 1981:

Citizens' Band radio fans who break the new laws on their two-way sets could rapidly find Smokey Bear on their trail, they were warned yesterday.

Smokey - CB slang for the police - will crack down on people using unauthorised wavelengths when the craze becomes legal on November 2. Licenses will cost £10.

Home Office Minister Timothy Raison said there will be heavy fines for illegal operators.

Newspaper article from November 2, 1981.

2 November 1981 duly arrived and shops immediately sold out of the first British models as the public went CB crazy. As seen in the newspaper article reproduced above, CB's inventor, American Al Gross, made the first legal CB call in England from a Rolls Royce parked in Trafalgar Square - his "handle" was "CB'er No 1".

Do you remember these CB slang phrases?
Brown bottles = beer

Reading the mail = listening

Home 20 = CB'er's home town

Negatory = no

Handle = CB'er's slang name

In a short = soon

Wrapper = colour of car

Wall to wall = strong signal
Smokey = the police
Flip-flop = return trip

Eyeball = meet face to face

Remember the Rumbelows - "We save you money and serve you right"? The advertisement above is from the Daily Mirror, 16/12/1981. With CB radio now legal, many people could look forward to a very CB Christmas.

There had been some moans and organised protests about the allotted frequencies for legal Citizens Band radio and one or two other quibbles, but on the whole CB fans were pleased by legalisation...

The editor of What CB wrote:
 
There's little in the Home Office Legal CB announcement to give existing users much cause for celebration. Unless they convert their rigs to FM - or, of course, buy a new legal specification set - they stay outside the law. There will be no amnesty, nor a period of grace, which was probably only to be expected. But no one should forget that without the widespread use of illegal AM equipment, it is highly unlikely that a legal CB system would have been introduced.

Apart from this, however, it's tremendously exciting that CB can now be used without the fear of the knock on the door or the flashing blue light in the rear view mirror. As well as the vast number of breakers using the illegal frequencies (probably one-and-a-half million), there are just as many who have been waiting for a legal system to arrive. From November 2nd, a legal rig, a legal aerial and, of course, that £10 licence means you can natter away to your heart's content. 
 
One of the first British CB rigs, the 1981 Amstrad 901. All together now: "Breaker, break!" "Fancy an eyeball?" etc, etc...

Two more 1981 magazines for CB fans - "CB Radio" ("The first, the original, the most informative and the most copied") and "Breaker".

A specimen CB radio licence as featured in "Breaker" magazine.

Above and below: "Breaker" magazine, November 1981 - a CB rig guide.

"The CB market is going to make sliced bread look silly..."

It was all happening in the world of CB in 1981... 

Get kitted out here!

Early '80s sew-on patches. Now, how about that eyeball? 
 

Customised pottery from Devon featuring a CB flash, plus your "handle" on tankards and mugs if required.

"The Big Dummy's Guide To British C.B Radio" - essential for learning the lingo and getting started. 
 

Nobody had any excuse not to get turned on. To the world of CB radio. 

"The model M2.40 Channel-27 FM. - to meet full U.K. Government Specifications."

CB radio Smurf, dated 1981.   

The CB craze peaked in 1982 and 1983 - even becoming the subject of story-lines in popular telly shows Terry and June and Coronation Street in '82. In the former, Terry joined the craze and ended up stuck in his car in the back of a lorry; in the latter, Eddie Yeats (handle: "Slim Jim") met the love of his life, Marion Willis (handle: "Stardust Lil"), over the airwaves. Even Eddie's landlady, Hilda Ogden, was doing the "breaker, break" (well, briefly!) as "Shady Lady"!

The craze also influenced children's television with the introduction of a new magazine show on ITV called CB-TV. The idea behind this was that the presenters had commandeered the airwaves and the show was citizens band TV. Nonsense, of course, but a fun scenario. 

The highest number of CB radio UK licence holders was recorded in 1983 - 300,000.  

By 1984, enthusiasm for CB radio had waned a little, but it was still hugely popular. My mate Pete had a rig in his car and a speaker under the bonnet. "Kill that cat. Would you please kill that cat?" we requested over this brilliant PA system, and nearly wet ourselves laughing as puzzled pedestrians tried to locate the source of the message.

CB was fun, could be used for making pals and even meeting prospective partners, but there could be aggro. One evening, Pete was chatting to a breaker who became increasingly hostile.

Not known for backing down from confrontations (despite the white legwarmers he often wore), Pete got pretty steamed up, too. "Yeah? Well come on, I'm in the car park opposite St George's Church. Get down 'ere - I'll take you on!"

Mr Not-So-Good-Buddy assured us, in no uncertain terms, that he was on his way. By the sound of him, he wouldn't stop at an eyeball - he'd tear us limb from limb. 

Oower, Missis! 

Pete sat silently behind the steering wheel, face grim and set, staring at the entrance to the car park.

"See you, Pete!" I firmly believed (and still do) that discretion is the better part of valour, and prepared to get out of the car.

Pete grinned at me, delighted that he'd made me sweat: "Where'd ya think you're goin'? You didn't think I was serious, did you?" and he started the car and away we went. Phew! Curious though I was to see if the breaker was as fierce as his voice, I could live with it!

Despite this (and knuckle-dragging CB idiots were few and far between in my experience), I remember CB radio very fondly. With all the changes since - the World Wide Web and so on - it seems like a lifetime ago... good times...
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My local branch of Tandy was offering the Realistic TRC 1001 hand held 40 channel 4 watt C.B, introduced by Tandy on November 26 1981 at a price of £119.95, for the bargain price of £69.95 in August 1982. 

"One-Nine For Santa"... a treat for Christmas 1981 from "Tiswas" star Fogwell Flax and the Ankle Biters from Freehold Junior School.
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Breaking with Terry - "Terry and June", 1982.

Listen to Sheila Tracy and the first instalment of her five-nights-a-week BBC Radio 2 Truckers' Hour from May 1981 here.