A few years ago Piers Sanderson decided to make a documentary based on the warehouse scene in sunny Blackburn. During the late eighties and early nineties, the warehouse scene exploded across the UK capturing the imaginations of young people from all walks of life. Helping to bring people together in musical harmony – a cheesy image, but actually true for the most part. Piers’ documentary has yet to see the light of day officially as much of music featured in his film needs clearance, however private viewings will be taking place around the country to raise money for the release of the film. The London premiere takes place at Village Underground in Shoreditch on Saturday June 3rd and features the film screening, Q&A's with Piers himself, and then an acid house after party which will feature some extra special guest DJ's from the acid house era.
All donations and ticket income will be donated to High on Hope, to help this special film see the light of day! Tickets: £10, Doors: 7pm-4am, Info: www.highonhope.com . Fully stocked bars serving for event duration.
Check out the High on Hope trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2q38mu3MKs
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Interview with High on Hope director, Piers Sanderson - by Marcus Barnes from The Independent:
So how did you get into house music?
I was 18 years old in 1988, the same year I was due to start university and arguably the moment acid house became readily available in the UK. I grew up in South Manchester and the Hacienda was the club that I first regularly went to. Around 1987 the club played a huge variety of music from hip hop to Madonna, however a couple of the DJs started dropping early Chicago house records and I immediately knew this was the music I had been waiting for all my young life. Instead of continuing my education I found a way to make a living out of what I was loving, which was the acid house scene and its subsequent offspring, for the next 12 years.
And where did the idea for the film come about?
By the time I was 30 years old I felt slightly off course and unsure whether I was still enjoying what I was doing. What had started as a way to get by without having to do a ‘proper job’ had ultimately become dj’ing and producing dance music, owning record shops and labels, running club nights that then led to owning bars, restaurants and pubs. I found myself at 30 with a reasonably successful bar business feeling unreasonably unhappy with what was taking up my working day. It suddenly felt like a proper job. My life had gone from a fun, creative one based around music and parties to one that involved too much time with accountants and grey men in dull suits. So I sold up (David Cameron’s Chorion Leisure bought a chunk of the business) and wanting to return to a creative life, but not one based around music this time, I decided on documentaries.
The most obvious first film for me was one about acid house, as it had been the most influential time of my life in terms of shaping my character and views on society. I wanted to make a film about the ‘golden era’ of acid house, the early years before the money and legislation ruined it and I wanted to explore what it was about that time that has stayed with so many people.
Did you have much difficulty in getting in touch with people who were involved in the 1991 warehouse scene covered in the film?
Well, 2004 was pre-Facebook and people were not linked up as they are now so some detective work was needed. I remembered that the DJ Rob Tissera was one of those arrested at the last ever party as he ended up going to prison for incitement to riot. Being a DJ he had a website and after meeting and interviewing him I got hold of some phone numbers that eventually led me to one of the two main organizers, Tony Kreft. I met up with Tony who remembered me from back in the day and he lined up the first batch of interviewees, although initially he declined to be in the film. Many people who were involved in what was Blackburn’s one significant moment on the cultural stage are very protective about the memory of that time and cautious about a perceived outsiders’ interest so a few people said no initially, but generally I was warmly received. Tony’s partner from the party days, Tommy, who was an unofficial spokesperson for the scene at the time, was living in India so he was not in the first version either.
How did you go about gathering footage and information?
While I was in Blackburn researching and interviewing I kept being told about a guy called ‘Preston Bob’ who had filmed the parties. His parents had a local corner shop and would rent out a video camera for weddings, christenings etc… If the camera was still in the shop on a Saturday night he would borrow it and filmed quite a few of the parties. It was only because he was part of the inner circle of organisers that he got away with using a camera inside the warehouses.
I left messages everywhere for Bob and on my last day of filming when I was on my way back to London I got call from him. He was recovering in a private hospital and after a few minutes chatting to him on the phone invited me over (he was only allowed one visit a week and usually gave this to his son so this in itself was amazing). Everyone had been after his footage but Bob didn’t trust the people that approached him (including the BBC) to make a genuine film with it. When he realized I had been to the parties and what type of film I wanted to make, he called his girlfriend I found myself driving back to London with a box of old VHS tapes on the back seat. Without this footage the film would have just been talking heads and a few photos. To be able to see the parties in all their grainy glory really makes the film special.
What impact did the warehouse scene have on the north of England in the late eighties/early nineties?
I would say that it is hard to quantify the impact of the warehouse parties and although this is something I set out to do I am still not sure it is fully achievable in a 72 minute documentary. However I would say that at the time a sense of community came back to the northern industrial towns’ youth that had been missing since the demise of mass industry, accelerated by the Thatcher policies of the time.
Can you give a brief summary of how life was in the north during the acid house era?
There was very little colour in our lives pre 1988/9, life seemed grey. Manchester was a damp city with no life in the center once the shops had closed. Its not like it is now with all the city centre apartments and cool bars. While looking for archive for the film I came across some footage of a car driving through the city at night and there was nobody about, it looked like a ghost town. For the younger generation we only knew of Thatcher as the prime minister and youth unemployment had hit an all time high. Musically it was pretty grim too. By the 1988 the new romantic scene had gone and there had been a void that was being filled by bands like INXS and U2, arguably good music but still music that did not come with an associated scene. The coolest people in the clubs looked like James Dean wannabees with turned up 502 jeans and doc martin shoes. It felt really derivative. The clubs were about looking cool. You danced in a ‘look at me’ kind of way, at the so called trendy end it was all very self conscious.
Then acid house came along. It was instantly seized upon as something new and exciting. The music had real energy and the nights became about dancing not prancing about trying to look cool. In fact the dancing was the opposite of cool. Swinging your arms back and forth manically, throwing your head from side to side.
Did you find there were any important lessons learned from the warehouse scene covered in High On Hope that could be applied to today’s rave culture?
If I had to pick out some lessons that I would hope the next generation would take from the film it would be that anything is possible if you believe it. That doesn’t have to be applied to warehouse parties. And to challenge authority. This doesn’t have to be done in a violent way, in fact I would hope that it was done peacefully, but we should never forget that the people who run the country work for us. They are our elected representatives and they don’t always remember that. And finally if there is a law that is criminalising a large proportion of its society then perhaps we should be looking at that law and questioning its validity.
Screenings of High On Hope will be taking place across the UK in the coming months, kicking off at the Retro Trax Festival in Bath on May 12 & 13, and hitting London’s Village Underground on June 2. For more information got to their website www.highonhope.com
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