Sunday 27 May, 1990. That day, in the UK, there was only one place to be. And that place was a park and nature reserve in the middle of an industrial estate beside the Mersey: Spike Island.
This was where the Stone Roses were due to play an outdoor show for a crowd of 30,000, kicking off what The Face – the magazine I edited, at the time – decided to call the Third Summer of Love.
All the energies that had been bubbling up in the clubs, at the raves, through the Madchester scene were destined to meet in this inauspicious place. No one knew exactly what was going to happen on Spike Island. The full details had all been kept pleasingly mysterious.
But a few things seemed certain. The Stone Roses were about to become global superstars, sweeping all before them. This event would be the final consummation of a new relationship between indie rock and dance music, genres once viewed as polar opposites.
This would be our generation’s Woodstock. And it was all going to be brilliant. Totally, unbelievably brilliant.
This is the start of my introduction to Spike Island, a new limited-edition book by IDEA documenting a chaotic event that in the end couldn’t quite live up to the hype. The book is a collection of brilliant pictures by three of the photographers sent to cover the day: David Swindells, Patrick Harrison and Peter J Walsh. (Plus a cover image by Juergen Teller.)
The main text is a conversation in which the photographers share their recollections of covering the day. My contribution is minimal. I went to Spike Island, and worked regularly with all three photographers. So I was happy to contribute a short intro.
How is this relevant now?
The book serves as a glorious document of the fashions, the attitudes, the optimism of the summer of 1990, when it felt like Britain was changing for the better. Old barriers were breaking down, new alliances forged.
But most of all, I think it conveys the concept of scenius. This is Brian Eno’s idea that culture is never created solely by talented individuals. It’s an ecosystem of creatives and collectors, innovators and imitators, promoters and press all working with and against each other, stimulating and sharing ideas.
In the Madchester scene you had DJs, clubbers, graphic designers, producers, indie bands and labels, fashion designers and entrepeneurs. Even architects played a part. (Think Ben Kelly’s iconic Hacienda interior). There were club promoters, writers, artists, drug dealers and all kinds of blaggers. Plus allies around the country encouraging, influencing – or simply organising coaches to events.
This book offers a snapshot of what they built together, a historical document of a specific time and place. But it also shows something we need to see, right now. A reminder of the kind of joyful gatherings we’ll eventually enjoy again, once this long pandemic is finally over.
Finally, it illustrates one of the fundamental messages I’m trying to make at The Creative Life. Keep your copyright, and look after everything you create.
I’m not sure anyone at Spike Island that day would imagine a book documenting it all, 31 years later. Or an era when gathering in huge crowds to dance and watch bands would seem impossibly strange and exotic.
But here we are. And here’s Spike Island. It’s in a limited edition of 1000, with only 300 copies available online, at £35. And it is beautiful.
What do you think?