Max's back room · the Anarchy Tour · a fortnight on our sofa
LEEE BLACK CHILDERS
He stayed with us for two weeks and paid the rent in stories. Rest in peace, Leee.
Words · KULTUR · Photographs · Leee Black Childers
In Memoriam
Track A — The story
He arrived with a camera bag and a laugh you could hear through a wall, and for a fortnight the kitchen was Max's Kansas City. The back room, he'd say, was less a venue than a waiting list. He got puked on by Billy Idol in it. He babysat Iggy. He said both jobs required roughly the same equipment: patience, a towel, and somewhere to put the ashtray.
London came later, and it came sideways. He turned up here managing the Heartbreakers, went down the Roxy on the off-chance, and walked straight into his old friend Gail Higgins. The two of them went off to mind the band on the Anarchy Tour — a tour that by then existed mostly as a list of cancellations and a rumour about a television programme.
They arrived in a plume of tackle smoke the day after the Grundy affair, into a country that had just decided, overnight, that it was frightened. Half the dates were gone. The other half looked at them like weather.
The Pictures
Track B — The pictures
What delighted him most wasn't the thing everybody photographed. Gilm took him to see Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets — heterosexual rock'n'roll badge and all — then Crazy Cavan, then Levi and the Rockats. Drape coats, brothel creepers, quiffs built like architecture. He said the Teds had a discipline the punks hadn't earned yet: nothing safety-pinned, everything tailored.
And he fell, hopelessly and publicly, for Smutty Smiff.