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In 1996 there
was still a Tory government, David Beckham was yet to
play for England and people were still buying Oasis
albums in their droves. At this same time in Loughton, a
small forested town that sits neatly in the commuter
belt between Essex and north east London a group of
teenagers were starting a movement that would be far
bigger than Oasis would ever be… at least on this
website.
Alan had been
playing guitar in his room for a while now. Anything to
act as a distraction from his GCSE finals and that
awkward period of adolescence when you are too old to
sit round your mates’ houses and play Nintendo but too
young to go down the pub. He and Rich would break up endless
hours walking the streets and fields of the local area
with the other wasters by listening to Green Day,
Soundgarden, REM, Tool, Metallica and more or less
anything that was a little livelier than Wonderwall or
fucking Bittersweet Symphony.
Alan and Rich,
together with Toby, Tom Simms and Mark Flaherty swiftly
came to the conclusion that it was about time that they
did something a little more constructive than wax
lyrical about the conceited Mecca of synthetic
materialism that was Essex. Instead, they would play the
rock songs that expressed their alienation as loudly as
they could without getting arrested. Alan could already
play the guitar and Toby had been drumming for five
years. Rich cited his very un-rock ‘n’ roll background
at stage school as grounds for his right to be the
singer and Tom was as willing to buy a bass as Mark was
to be the second guitarist.
That’s nearly a
band, that is.
The hall at the
back of the King’s Oak pub in nearby High Beach where
Toby and Rich both had Saturday jobs as potmen was the
venue for this unprovoked assault on late ‘90’s
alternative rock, punk and grunge. They mauled Foo
Fighters, ravaged Nirvana, tore The Offspring apart and
rendered the Red Hot Chili Peppers totally
unrecognisable. It was fun, but not entirely listenable.
By September all
five started their A-Levels at Epping Forest College so,
mercifully, the residents of High Beech could sleep at
night. Toby still drummed in his basement, Rich still
did a few plays and Alan played to his bedroom walls but
they would not be seen in the same room with their
instruments again until… well, until Epping Forest
District Council lifted the injunction preventing it.
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