Category: 1994

Dear Jawbreaker – 3rd August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Shaun
c/o xx Mallard Road
Wimborne
Colehill DORSET

Dear Jawbreaker,

Excerpt from tour diary

Monday 28th September 1992
Tuesday 29th September 1992

Hi, my name is Shaun, I interviewed you guys for 3 Parent Family fanzine back in 90/91 (?) and was looking forward to seeing you guys play. Unfortunately, destiny has dealt me a bad hand on that score as you can see from the above tour diary, and now to finish it off you are playing in my local scene just weeks after I leave to go and live in Australia!!!

Maybe you could dedicate a song to me when you play? How about the tour song off Bivouac??

Hope it all goes well for you and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to see you guys someday.

Let us know if you’re ever planning to play Australia!!

Love and Respect

22nd Oct 2024 – If memory serves me correctly I gave a copy of this typewritten letter to Rich Levine in the hope that he passed it to the band before they played in Southampton that year. I’m not sure if that actually happened or not though.

It’s getting so hot people are dripping with sweat – 2nd August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Sheila turned up first (Broni’s cousin) after a six hour train trip down from Newcastle Under Lyme. Then Lisa and Mykala (how do you spell that name!?), Simon (pictured), Rich, Barry, Garry and Mark , followed by Mick and Ray, all the Southampton gang and Murray and Jasper.

Tony took on the record decks but Barry offered us a couple of hours of 3 string guitar entertainment outside. The dance floor rocked, alcohol drunk, and people dropped, then more came (and more) and people we didn’t know took over and mingled and mixed and left again til about 3am some neighbour asked to be quiet outside so we took everyone in ‘cepting the record fair boys who elected to sleep under the stars.

And at about 4am me and Broni headed for bed, where most already were, to be showered with confetti by John and Rob! And the next thing I know, an almighty thunderstorm, in and around my dreams and then I wake up real zombie-like, wishing those left farewell as they slowly sauntered off home to nurse their hangovers and headaches.

I took John, Kerry (another Kerry), Shiela and Broni down to Bournemouth to see the guys at the record fair. Barry was crashed out in the back of his van and Garry and I couldn’t get a word out of him (he did groan some). Everyone looked fucked but said they enjoyed themselves. They’d just woken up as the rain began this morning too.

Then off to the Russell Cotes museum for an hour of zombied interest. Lots of beautiful Japanese things in there but as you can imagine, we saw everything through blurred eyes and double vision.

Back home (sort of), I helped John move his stuff to my mum’s, where he’s staying for 7 days before his trip to Europe, while Broni and Shiela slept back at Kerry’s. Thankfully the rest of the day passed by without too much incident and sleep crept over us around 10pm.

Monday morning woke us happy and giggling and wow, I feel like I’ve never been so much in love with my beautiful girlfriend, best friend, Broni. Her beautiful soft skin turns me on and our bodies compliment each other as they fit together (I don’t just mean sexually) in embrace. Snug fit baby!

More later – this wrist is on it’s way out I’m sure! The chiropractic helped but I just can’t help abusing my body in one form or another!

Tell yer ma, tell yer pa, our love’s gonna grow – 1st August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Well here I am, many days later – time has been against us once again. Now I’m at work, all stirred up caffeine wise and about to briefly run down some of the stuff that’s been going on this week.

I must mention the Danish hitchhiker I picked up. A real relaxed cool dude who told me of his travels hitching across Europe, Russia, Siberia, China and into Tibet. And going to places where they’d never seen white people before, camping under the stars and spending days in countries with nothing to do except watch the world go by in all its beauty (can you imagine me doing that!!). I asked him what started him off travelling and he said it was an English sunset. Time and travel had turned him into a beautiful person, not craving after the greed of modern life. A balance I would find difficult to cope with what with my possessions which I love so much, although I know they are meaningless in my heart and in my soul. Much respect to that dude anyway and he showed me it back. We understood each other and knew we were both good people.

At the end of the last piece I wrote we went to Southampton and we saw us some bands. One from Belgium called Byetail, their drummer later purchasing some of my beloved records. When they played they impressed me enough to donate the Mission of Burma album to him too. He was pleased! (He was a cool guy too). And back home, intending to pack some more but knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

And then, Monday out for a meal at Rosemary’s. She is a fellow speech therapist friend of Broni’s. One of the few who is okay and works hard and is friendly. Some of the stories I hear about the others are incredible. Real typical social climbing stuff and putting themselves into positions where they don’t have to work so hard and when they do do some work they make sure they get the really well-paid jobs. It seems whatever your profession there’s always some of that bullshit going on. Well, we had a great meal and lots of wine which meant we had to stay over the night (night four of being drunk!).

Tuesday, Broni went out with Danny, Joe and Stella (over from Amsterdam) while I did some packing up and crashed out fairly early, all the late nights are catching up (but I think Broni got in at about 2!).

And Wednesday more packing before racing up to Newport via Southampton to see the excellent Wholesome Crack, okay Swine Flu and the fucking awesome Drive Like Jehu, whose music just took me away and made my body jibber and twitch that my head nearly fell off. Unbelievable!

Back to Simon’s and to sleep about 4.30, me and Broni in the hallway, Rob, Rich and two Irish guys in the front room. Of course with Simon’s kids we were up at 8.30. Young Elliot first shy but then running around shouting and screaming. A real cutie! We hung around Newport so long, a planned game of golf went out the window. Eventually driving back zombiefied and home where I slept for an hour or two as Broni continued packing stuff up. I woke up for a couple more hours to eat some food but couldn’t keep my eyes open so once again went where the Sandman walks.

Friday, we moved a ton of stuff down to Kerry’s – I think that took all day, I can’t remember. And then went up to Wimborne to show Kerry another nice Tandoori, suitably stuffed and we went back and crashed out – a small day in descriptive terms but a huge one in reality. Our old house now empty of all possessions.

It’s Saturday, up at 5:30 to take Kerry up to Heathrow to catch a plane for Helsinki to Tokyo. Had fun watching people from a hundred different countries go by, hustling and bustling! And back to make preparations in our old house for the party later that night. We hired out a big disco and set it all up and decorated the house with balloons and streamers and spray string. And waited for the masses to come and slowly but surely they did.

Later dudes!

Searching for pictures to use on this post led me to this page: https://abstractanalogue.tumblr.com/post/167514322499/drive-like-jehu-uk-tour-1994-press-clippings
which, would you believe, is written by one of the Irish dudes who stayed with us all at Simon’s house!

He feels life his strongest connection, between the yelling and the sleep – 26th July 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Phew! I’m sat in our room, now bereft of most of the items one would consider creature comforts. TV, video, computer, stereo, table, chair etc all sold or packed up or returned to their rightful owners.

Today was the first day of rain for a couple of weeks I’d guess. Just a light drizzle on a grey day, the air now fresh and sweet with the scent of thirsty flowers. Myself, a flower child thirsty for the waters of life pouring all around me and, here and there, I dip my hand in making gentle ripples across my universe. Though the last few days seem like I’ve been jumping up and down in the puddles, splashing my way through the madness!

Oh yes! I drove across the farmland again last week, to the farm with the handsome farmhand and had to deliver some stuff into one of the chicken sheds as before. This farm is an egg farm and I’d guess in each shed were thousands and thousands of chickens crammed in, laying eggs for Joe Bastard to eat for breakfast.

So, the first time I’m in the shed I look around – it’s very dark, above is a floor with big slats and beyond, the roof. On the floor above are cages, the whole length of the shed (about 100 metres). I look up where we are and the cages are empty. The only sound to be heard is like a whistling of the wind. The stench is awful. I look across the width of the shed and see the floor stacked up to 6ft high in places, in chickenshit. Guess they hadn’t had time to clear it up yet. I left a bit wiser, a bit curiouser.

When I went the second time, I was alone and so I had a look about bit more. The whistling wind was a bit louder this time and I heard faint clucking noises. I approached the piles of shit and looked up and saw hundreds and hundreds of skinny featherless chickens crammed into tiny cages, for what I would guess would be their whole sorry lives. But what shocked me was the lack of noise. All those chickens and no noise! Are they bred without vocal glands, do they have them removed or have they resigned themselves to confinement and given up hope of freedom? Did they even know what freedom was? Wow – all that stuff going on in my head!! I wonder if Joe Bastard thinks about stuff like that when dipping his soldiers into the yolk?

Friday, we went barefoot for an Indian meal with Kerry celebrating the end of term and the six or seven weeks summer holiday. She got a ton of presents from her class too, which really pleased her. We had to take her to bed quite early though as alcohol took her over – this time for a happy pissed!

Saturday, Broni and I picked up our wedding rings, mine now looking great – I’m really pleased with it and will treasure it forever. We got a couple of hours packing in before shooting off to Southampton to Chrissy’s, picking up Rob on the way. Sharon was there with her kids too, but once the kids were out of the way we quietly drank and puffed on a peace joint and gladly relaxed to ‘The Terminator’. One by one, people faded and finally ended up with me and Rob having that great talk about life, the universe and everything, just like I used to with Steve (God, I miss you so much Steve). Knowing the kids were going to wake up early we called it a day at about 4:30 just as it was getting light! Sure enough a couple of hours later we were up again, though fairly relaxed as Chrissy and Sharon took off with the kids leaving us to bum around before Broni and I had to go to Portsmouth for Stephanie’s christening.

Stephanie is Joe and Stephen’s daughter. Joe being the first person Broni got to know here in Poole. And Broni to be godmother for the third time. I’ll finish this off later as another cup of coffee is required right now!

It was a stunningly hot day and with my lack of sleep I was feeling very faint – it was actually nice to go into the chapel where it was cooler. Stephen is a Navy diver so the christening took place on HMS Nelson naval base with pretty tight security. Not being into the religious bit I watched Broni holding the wriggling tyke still as possible and smiled as the guy (is he a priest or chaplain or something?) poured holy water from an upside down divers helmet (!) over her forehead (Stephanie’s, not Broni’s).

With that over all thoughts (of mine) were on my stomach and sustenance. We went out of the base and over into a big stately home type place (all this in Portsmouth city centre) guarded by some young army dude carrying a machine gun. It occurred to me that the boy may suffer a heat madness and go on a crazy killing spree but that’s my twisted imagination for you! This old place was breathtaking. Huge staircases and pictures of Nelson and massive solid silver statuettes of Queen Elizabeth the Second on her horse. It was pretty breathtaking. We enter the big room with a bar and all leather upholstery, like imagine the meeting rooms at the House of Lords or something like that. Champagne flowed and food eaten (we stuffed ourselves and quite rightly felt sick after!) and I was taking in the surroundings, being totally alien to them. I love these new experiences, I really enjoy things that I sometimes expect not to like. In another room the walls were painted with scenes from old battles like the Armada and Trafalgar. Huge detailed paintings faded with time but still glorious in their nature. Tired and exhausted we left for Southampton.

I have to stop again till tomorrow – I just can’t carry on – my mind is a-racing with a trillion different things.

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top – 25th July 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Rollins teaches us (!) (found it at last!):

I wanted this to be the real thing / I wanted it to finally be the real discipline / The discipline / that I had been so well preparing myself for / I needed something to be real / I saw things / I saw all people around me / falling apart / caving in / I needed the discipline / I asked myself how long / I was going to live this life / How long was I going to let myself down / and blame someone else / Finally I kicked through the wall it was like a junkie / busting through the scar tissue / that keeps him from hitting / It was like slashing through the womb with your teeth / Lies make me weak / It’s the lies that are killing me / the lack of discipline / I was killing myself and I didn’t even see it I couldn’t even feel it / The dead painless days are over.

I see my connection in this – I feel like that. Not necessarily all the time. I’m still insecure. I’m still weak but I am getting stronger in my soul. I have lots to report as the helter-skelter of ambition thrusts me forward into my future. I’m coming. Later!

Your private matters need looking after, it’s way too late, though – 24th July 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

The girl obviously had a strange upbringing. Dragged naked from the burning barn. Certain things left emotional scars and for a lifetime.

She ran, pinny wrapped around her undignified body, down through the field, tripping on tree stumps he had left there last summer. She ran as though searching for something, turning at strange angles, here and there, in her misguided direction.

The road below thronged with tourists, keen to see the local attractions. This certainly wasn’t one of them.

Soon she stood naked, unknowing of anything around her. Of course, they just drove past. The men in the cars smugly thought they understood. Drugs – huh! The women cringed away disguising their disgust with tourist talk – ‘Oh – look at that hill.’ He laughed, ‘Look at those hills.’

They drove past – into another universe.

On Gaunts Common – 23rd July 1994

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Gaunts Common was a quiet rustic village in Dorset, the heart of the south of England. It’s only shop, Gaunt’s Common Post Office, closed down in 1985 due to lack of funds and use. No more would the children be able to gather outside its window in the small parking area perturbing customers and neighbours alike.

17th Apr 2021 – The picture above is all that is left to remind me there was once a post office here. The traditional red public phone box has gone too.

The village school still thrived though, taking in the five to eight-year-olds from many surrounding areas. Morning and afternoon would be the busiest time of day as parents ferried their offspring to the South end of the village, packing the car park with their vehicles and causing quiet traffic jams. Some of the luckier pupils need only walk across the road and into the school.

17th Apr 2021 – I seem to remember more foliage around the front and being able to run around all sides of the school as we would often play ‘flashlight’ here at night time.

The community was mainly a farming one, though several of the newer houses were built specifically for their rich owners who travelled into Wimborne Minster, the nearest town, about four miles away. So, slowly the community was diversifying though tractors were as frequent on the roads as buses or taxis, leaving behind them great clumps of mud from the sodden fields. Everyone knew by name the farmers who ploughed the land and looked after the cattle.

17th Apr 2021 – Occasionally we would steal one of these hay rolls and roll it down the road until we got bored, or roll it into the woods where we were hidden from view, set light to it and talk shit with each other whilst throwing asbestos into the flames to hear it crackle and pop.

There were several riding stables in the village and surrounding area, riders taking advantage of the woodlands which began at the top of the hill and spread out to the Northeast towards Holt and Holtwood (more woodland areas). Cars were often required to slow down driving through the village as they waited behind a troop of horses and riders on their way to the woods for a healthy gallop.

By night time, after the small of rush of cars carrying people on their way home from work, the village became quiet except for one or two of the noisier children who would gather at the bottom of the school field, away from the prying eyes of their parents. The focus would then turn to the football club about a quarter of a mile south of the village where people were welcomed by friendly faces to share a beer, a game of darts or pool or, most importantly, to catch up on the latest gossip.

17th Apr 2021 – On the left, the ‘impenetrable’ woods where, as kids, we built a BMX track, camps, fires, war zones and get drunk before we were of age, at which time we migrated to the Football Club, on the right.

The greatest thing is a box (but how can I contain my love for fire?) – 21st July 1994

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Last two days haven’t given us much time for reflection. We can’t see much further than 1st August at the moment, which is when we’re due to leave this house (hence the Rollins item not being here – I did find it but just ain’t had time).

Last night I got in touch with Marie, Jasper and Murray’s dad, to invite all these people to our party. All these names not even mentioned in this tome but integral in my upbringing and my past. Hope some of these guys can make it on the night.

Wrote all that by the river but had to leave to find some place to relieve myself. It is so hot today, even by the river the sun is burning down. Crazy Aussie weather and I’m still in England!

Broni and I were up late sorting out bits and pieces and emptying our room of furniture in preparation of packing. Though stressed out by all this we still have time for fun and laughing. I’m accused sometimes of being too serious but now is a serious time and it will be some relief to get this next couple of weeks out the way.

I’ll apologise now if these entries start to lack any colour and flair. How many ways can you describe packing a box? Rest assured – if there’s any excitement I’ll be in touch.

This is an image that just won’t fade – 19th July 1994

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Then up to Old Sarum, the old town of Salisbury in Roman times, with magnificent views, particularly of the Roman roads that met their 2000 years back. We sunbathed and slid down banks, climbed up them and avoided paying to get in. A way cool place – go see.

We videoed some wildflowers and wild insects and then headed home to Poole where Broni, Rob, John and I went down the pub for dinner and a couple of beers to celebrate/commiserate, before walking down to Kerry’s to watch a video. Unfortunately we picked Body of Evidence. What crap! Nuff said.

So’s, after watching a bit of the third-place play-off in the World Cup (Sweden well ahead though still don’t know the final score) we stumbled home drunkenly and guess what? I can’t remember anything else of that night. Ho-hum.

But Sunday, once again I woke wrapped in Broni and let’s just say we didn’t get up for an hour or two us being too interested in each other. But breakfasted on, then mad rushed us fab foul four again to the beach to meet Chrissy, Sharon (Steve’s sister), Amanda (Chrissy’s daughter), Luke (Sharon’s son – The maddest baddest little bastard ever! And of course exceptionally cute in his few years of age – totally lovable!) and Jennifer (Amanda and Luke’s friend). So for five hours, we played football, catch, volleyball, frisbee and Luke’s special game ‘knock you over and jump on top of you and throw sand in your face!’ We all spent most of the day laughing and playing and having good old-fashioned childish fun. You can’t begrudge that can you?

Exhausted we came home, Rob back up to Southampton, me and John to watch the football (sprawled out in the front room) and Broni upstairs to watch the film ‘She’ll Be Wearing Pink Pyjamas’. The football, the World Cup final, was a slight disappointment though reasonably entertaining and a shame to be settled on penalties at the end, sparking the age-old debate of how to settle a stalemate match. It being late and us exhausted we still found some enthusiasm for an idea would come up with holding a party on the Saturday before we are evicted. The cunning bitch Julie left on Saturday afternoon, thankfully, which is an immense relief all round – the last we hear from her I hope though we may have to chase her up for bills sooner or later.

And so it came to Monday – the day of little occurrence of note, save John and I playing frisbee up at the park, in the most delicate beautiful rain and humidity, till darkness swamped the evening. When I got back me and Broni played silly buggers till bedtime recharging ourselves with each other’s love and closeness.

We also, over the weekend, decided that if Rob comes to Oz for the wedding, he’ll be our best man. Hey man, cool – will ask him soon. And everything will be mad frenzy now, packing, sorting, writing letters, changing addresses, closing bank accounts and fucking partying. Go dudes! Oh yes, good can come from bad – just watch us prove it.

(Later) Phew. It’s scorching hot, preparation for the coming summer in Australia (destiny – what the card!) Drove across some wide-open land today, fields upon fields of corn and crops, cows and the bull. Down dusty tired tracks by dung heaps, open space is like…it’s like….freedom. At the end of that journey was a farm with a pretty farmer’s daughter and her way cute two-year-old (I’m guessing) and a handsome farm boy who would charm the undies off a nun if maybe he wasn’t the village idiot, knowing nothing else but muck and chicken shit. (This is all in my mind of course – who knows what these people may do by night. I could see this guy at some nightclub bar with a queue of girls lined up to caress his rippling muscles – like I said, who knows?)

And I’m out in the sticks now, driving through some sleepy village that even has two names, like one had forgotten and another thought up – and imagine the village war between the farmers and the petrol pump attendant families over which name to use (out here they may still have a say – imagine us try to change the name of Bournemouth to Old Bastard or something).

And I gets to thinking, seeing some old dude bent over double with age, where I might be in 100 years time. Hmm? And I was thinking of something Rollins wrote which I’ll write ye down when I get home and maybe I’ll find a connection. Anyway, think about where you will be every year for the next 100 years okay – see what you come up with (go for it I say).