Before stadiums and gold albums, it was a life of broken down vans, fish and chips, and dodgy sound systems. Some of the world’s biggest bands cut their teeth on the student circuit. And a new book, Rock Goes to College, by Paul Sexton, reveals what life was really like on the road at Britain’s university gigs. Paul says: “Everybody’s got a story, everybody’s got a memory of bands they saw. And people are continuing to tell those stories 60 years later.
“You’re picturing bands who went on to be absolute gods of the industry, who were either in the very formative stages or, in many cases, completely unknown, driving up the motorway in a van that might or might not make it.”
The sixties saw an explosion of universities and polytechnics being used for gigs, as bands sought new audiences. They quickly became an established part of the touring circuit. Dire Straits’ Mark Knopfler, who wrote the foreword for the book said: “When it all begins and you’re either watching or performing, it’s usually in darkened rooms with low stages, filthy, sticky floors and very loud music, everything smelling of damp, stale beer and sweat.”
Bill Bruford, of Yes, said: “Universities were pretty grubby. There were hardly ever seats, as far as I can remember. You played in the refectories. What did they do with the tables, I wonder? Push them to the side? Nobody knew much about security, or health and safety. There was none of that at all…And nobody there knew the rules, and neither did the musicians or the managers.”
In 1963 the student population stood at 118,000. By the 1979-1980 academic year, it had reached nearly 800,000, with more than 30 new polytechnics opened and ten colleges of advanced technology converted to universities in 1966 alone. Suzi Quatro was a veteran of the circuit, saying: “Oh, God, my whole life was in the kitchen. I can’t remember how many times I changed in the toilet.”
At one gig, the man tasked with bringing the band their drinks knocked on the dressing room door to find her, as one witness recalled, “stark naked, pouring herself into a leather catsuit.” His response: “Where do you want the beer?”
When Manfred Mann played Leeds University in January 1964, 1,730 students packed in. The following week’s student paper led with the headline ‘Record bar sales, record attendance – but hysteria causes damage.’ People tried to get a better view by standing on window ledges, on the piano, and trampled the salad bar. The “record 270 gallons” of beer sold in the new bar had not helped.
Union president Tony Lavender said: “Probably because people could not see Manfred Mann and his group, many people stood on chairs and window-sills, covering them with a liberal coating of dirt. Further to this, damage to the tune of £20 to £30 was done to many chairs by women’s stiletto heels.”
In October 1966, Eric Clapton was playing Regent Street Polytechnic with Cream when an unknown American they’d been told about seized the opportunity of a guest appearance. It was Jimi Hendrix. Clapton said: “Jimi just went for it. He played the guitar with his teeth, behind his head, lying on the floor, doing the splits, the whole business. It was amazing, and it was musically great too, not just pyrotechnics. The audience were completely gobsmacked by what they saw and heard too.”
Within months, Hendrix would have a top five single and be headlining his own UK tour. That night, driving themselves to a gig at York University in February 1967, his band’s car gave out on the motorway. Bassist Noel Redding said: “We set off at 5 p.m. and belted off towards Nottingham, but after only a few miles, the generator went. Eventually we hired a car and we turned up at midnight. Fortunately, we weren’t on until 1am.”
Led Zeppelin played their fifth-ever UK show at Ewell Technical College in Surrey for £175. Their van broke down at the gates and had to be pushed into the back of the refectory. Jimmy Page, who had come up to visit his mum in nearby Epsom, arrived early and was deposited in the dressing room with a sci-fi novel to wait.
The Rolling Stones had a rather different problem when they played Oxford University’s Magdalen College Commemoration Ball in June 1964. By the time the night arrived they had completed two UK tours, released a debut album, and played Carnegie Hall. They flew back from New York two days before the gig.
Bill Wyman said: “We did it just for a hundred quid, because it had been booked months before, when we weren’t earning much money.” Double tickets cost eight guineas, including dinner buffet, champagne and Saumon de Montrose Norvégienne. The Stones got none of it.
Dire Straits played Dundee Technical College in 1978 to discover that manager Ed Bicknell had booked the gig after the end of term. “We rang Ed up and said, ‘Have you booked this by mistake? It’s the end of term and 90 per cent of the students have gone home,'” said bassist John Illsley. “And he said, ‘Well, yes. But it’s got a good fee attached to it.'”
There were 30 people there, most of them workers from the university. When the band finished playing, said Illsley, “we just invited them all backstage for a drink.” For some bands the circuit was a matter of survival. The Moody Blues had gone from a number one in 1964 to their price per gig dwindling to £25.
Guitarist Justin Hayward said: “I think the students and the college circuit helped us up to about 100 quid, 125, which saw us through.” Pink Floyd drummer Nick Mason said: “We could safely say that we were not getting on very far with the business of growing the band. Universities were great, because we’d found the audience and the audience had found us.”
The Who immortalised Leeds University’s refectory on the Live at Leeds album in 1970. Pete Townshend, of the Who, said: “Those people were very, very loyal. So, for example, if they booked you at their university and then you went on to get a hit, they stayed with you. So a lot of those people became fans for life. And that’s unusual.”
Three years after the Beatles played their last show, Paul McCartney loaded Wings into a van and drove up the M1 with no plan and no bookings. He said: “We literally took off in a van up the M1, got to Ashby-de-la-Zouch, liked that name, ‘Great! Turn off here.’ But there wasn’t a gig, there was just a little village and nothing else there. It was a signpost. Anyway we kept going until we got to Nottingham University, and then it suddenly hit, ‘Ah, that’s it – let’s do universities.'”
A roadie approached entertainment committee member Elaine Woodhams, who went outside to find a red minibus parked in front of the building. He knocked on the window, the door slid back and there, in the driving seat, was McCartney.
The next day they put the word out on the tannoy, charged 50p a ticket, and packed 800 people in. Paul Sexton said: “People often doubt it, but there are plenty of eyewitnesses. They got to see a Beatle for 50p. It’s just ridiculous.”
*Rock Goes to College: The Campus Music Scene That Shaped a Generation by Paul Sexton, published by Mudlark, priced £25, is out now.
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