Rob writes – 1st April 1995

Hi there!

I’ve just gone round Chrissy’s to show her the photos – yeah, they’ve come out and are pretty cool! (Although one whole film didn’t come out – bad news man!) 

Amanda’s going to a party today, so was really restless and punched and jumped on me all the time! And Rebecca’s gonna have her picture taken today – professionally done.

I’m gonna get a few photo albums to chuck the pictures in so I can show everybody. I’ll send you some over when I get the chance. 

My writing routine which I set myself is already shot away but I’m gonna try harder next week. Sorry for writing just about anything – there’s so many distractions – 5 minutes to scribble this rubbish, then off to Southampton post office to post this. They don’t close til 5 o’clock so thank goodness for that, otherwise you’d never get anything from me.

See you when I come over again (whenever that is!?)
Love
Rob

30th Jan 2024 – Even a slow news day was appreciated in those pre-internet times.

You see, you feel, you know – 5th September 1994

Change. All change involves a challenge. I remember when I lived with my mother I was content there, I was also fussy and finicky. A cup of coffee was only nice out of my special mug. I had particular knives and forks that I had to use, no others would do. Those two tiny things were barriers I had made to stop myself from leaving. Wrapped up in a golden blanket of security, I would dread the thought of having to use a different knife.

Then I left, scared of watching all that security get old and withered. I learnt how to use a washing machine and how to cook and I learnt that I didn’t have all the time in the world and started using my spare time to good effect instead of wasting it. I slowly discovered who I was and became content again.

Broni gets herself home from work early, now she’s finishing up things she’s on a self-admitted skive but remember back when I was telling you how hard she worked, now at last the slow down.

So with time on our hands (yes, time, that funny thing that you can never have enough of and when we feel so short of it all of a sudden we are presented with some) we take off on a whim down to Poole Quay and the aquarium which is full of fish on the ground floor, swimming around in their swimming round circles, round and round. Only the piranha seem to stay in some territorial still, and Broni sits and watches the silver dollar fish, light reflecting prism-like into her eyeballs, hypnotic, entranced.

Upstairs, crocodiles lounge like dead things in their 12 inches of water, not a blink nor a twitch, then Broni walks into a room where a man sits waiting to take your picture with a 20 foot python, 6 inches across. But Broni doesn’t see the snake until it’s rubbing her hand and she makes a quick exit! The rest of the snakes we watch through glass, most being lazy and restful. But beautiful, the nest of vipers all piled on top of each other like it was cold and were seeking warmth.

Snakes and spiders, then upstairs to a model railway which fascinates the child in me watching a little replicas stopping starting whistling shunting chuffing. A great place to go and visit despite the steep entrance fee, maybe Poole Aquarium is a bit of an odd description too.

By this time we are exhausted again and return home to comfy chairs and brief dreams for a half hour. Next on the agenda is a meal we’ve planned, so I goes with my sweet to pick up my mum and we drive with a remarkable sunset behind us up to Ringwood where we joined Kerry, Ron, Cath and Simon, drinks already underway. I wanted to come back to this restaurant, the India Cottage, as it is the first place I was introduced to Indian cuisine by my boss at the time, now some six or thereabouts years ago. We were served by two young beautiful people, both English but dark skinned. Him in bright white shirt and black trousers, the nervous and anxious to please gentleman, and her also, dressed in a tie-dye one-piece dress, dark and pretty as her skin. With seven of us all giggling away we took some time in there and the best thing was the slow service which gave us all plenty of time to digest one course before stuffing another and I, probably for the first time ever, managed to eat everything I ordered. So the atmosphere was nice and relaxed right through to the last Tia Maria.

So arrived the weekend, Broni off to get her haircut then us both over to Rosemary’s for lunch where we sit and play with Jade, kid cute, running around or having us to run around after her. I feel really good around kids, I enjoy the freedom they express and their ignorance of worry, real life giver.

Our joy takes us home for a brief encounter on the bed where we frenzy practice babymaking before diversion to Wimborne for pizza and then Southampton for our last gig there before we leave, now just three weeks away. Oh yes.

Atmosphere at The Joiners is, as ever, relaxed and exciting, but tonight tinged with some sadness for us as we say our farewells to some of the regulars, brightened up though by new people eager to get involved.

So at the end of the night, midnight we bring back Rob and Rich to Chrissy’s place, Chrissy out on the tiles but Sharon there to let us in. Rich soon leaves as the rest of us prepare to have a few drinks, Rich still on his straight edge kick and good luck to him if it makes him feel better about himself, which I’ve noticed it has.

We make an effort to wait up for Chrissy but all fall asleep dead drunk after playing every single kids game in the cupboard.

It’s light and Chrissy stumbles in, 7 am, she goes to bed and we get up and not only do we get up, so do Amanda, Luke, Sam and Rebecca, our company for the morning, four beautiful active screaming monster children. Rebecca amazes us as she is now walking herself about and saying ‘yeah’ whenever it takes her fancy. Snotty nosed Sam, quietly watching and wandering from here to here. Luke demanding to play Nintendo and demanding to play with me, and Amanda being unusually quiet and restrained today, possibly because mum is not there to antagonise, Chrissy now sound asleep oblivious to rowdy rabble.

After a while of preparation we all set off for the park, Amanda demanding piggybanks of me and Luke off Rob, Broni pushes Rebecca and Sharon looking after Sam. One child each, they will never beat us!

So how is it later on I get Sam on my shoulders, Amanda on one hand and Luke on the other and I’m sure if Rebecca could get out of her locked in pushchair she’d be demanding my affection too. But I know the kids see that I have lots of love to give them and I love ’em to bits. Sam called me dad, Luke kicked me till I wouldn’t play with him no more, Sharon then talking to him quietly and Luke coming back looking all forlorn and saying sorry under his breath, little beauty horror tike.

Amanda asked me if I remember when Steve and I took her tree climbing and I surely do, I remember it so well because it was then I realised I too, could look after kids, not be scared of that kind of future. It was something Steve showed me just by doing it and not by mentioning it. The only thing he ever said about kids was that he thought I would enjoy it, and as it made him so happy. Here I was, now free of all those old inhibitions about coolness and, ‘geez I wonder if anybody can see me?’ type thoughts that always entered my head when I was around children. My only regret is that Steve isn’t here to see that in me, because even though I realised it back then, I was still in a kind of awe of him because he was looking after Rebecca and Amanda so well.

When people die, you keep a little piece of them with you and it’s something I kept of Steve (amongst other things) and I find that particularly poignant as Chrissy said to Broni the night before that ‘Shaun is a good bloke, a lot like Steve in many ways.’ That kind of compliment makes me feel good inside, I really love all these people around me. Amanda surprised me by remembering that, maybe not sure how much a seven-year-old might remember about a year before, which is great.

I talk to her about the snakes we saw and carry her down to see the cygnets and the ducklings, then onto the swings and climbing houses where we try to wear the kids out but us with only a couple of hours sleep start flagging it instead.

Get back to Chrissy’s and cook some food, Chrissy now up and pale, looking barely alive as Amanda scoffs at her, her not liking her mum getting drunk because it makes her ‘smelly’. We force Chrissy to eat but she’s had it and at 2 o’clock or so heads back to dreamland. We leave around then too, dropping off Rob on the way, Sharon already gone with the kids to a party.

Broni sleeps in the car and I sleep on the sofa when we get back but only for an hour or so. The rest of the day slips us by slowly and gently as we slow down and let the love in ourselves roll around some and spread through our veins to our fingers and toes. We fall asleep with smiles on our faces and play with our friends in our subconscious.

Rich Levine – STE Bulletin 22 – 3rd January 1994

MY HEART + THE REAL WORLD WITH RICH…

On Tuesday, December 28th 1993, Steve Burgess tragically died of a heart attack.

He was just 24 years old, married to Chrissy, with 2 daughters Amanda + Rebecca, aged 7 years + 3 months respectively.

Some of you may have known Steve from the bands THIRST, (+ earlier) ALL THE GLORY + CORPORATE GRAVE + as part of the Southampton punk/ hardcore scene over the last 8 or 9 years. To me, he was my best friend.

When I heard the news (whilst at the tranquillity of my Mum’s, in rural west Wales), I was numb. It didn’t sink in. It seemed so unreal like it was a big wind-up + suddenly Steve was going to turn up + say “Not Really!”.

Then came the tears + the pain. Tears of sadness, tears of anger at how cruel + unfair this world is, that someone with so much love, so much to live for, with so much purpose to his life, could be taken from us. My thoughts were with Chrissy + his family.

At times, I felt cheated – so many things I’d never be able to share with Steve. We all think we’re so invulnerable, take our lives for granted, that we’re going to be around for the next 40 years or so.

We never consider how fragile our existence is.

What can’t be taken away from me are my memories. I went to the

same school (Alderman Quilley in Eastleigh) as Steve + we became friends through punk rock. Going with him to his first gig (CONFLICT in Bournemouth), when he was just 15, forming our own punk rock band in his bedroom (the prototype CORPORATE GRAVE), seeing him on stage later on tape + record. Having the privilege of being the Best Man at his + Chrissy’s wedding + both of us being absolutely terrified of making our speeches! Witnessing what a proud father he was. So many scrapes + so many laughs…

Steve was a very thoughtful person. He had very firm beliefs but also liked to test these, by questioning even those which are considered sacred cows within our scene. A few weeks before he died, we had a long discussion about bands + ethics, until 3am.

We were both exhausted but as he dropped me home, we both agreed how much we’d enjoyed the debate. Steve loved life + had a wicked sense of humour (as witnessed in his occasional ‘Danny Zuko’ column for this bulletin).

Like all of us, Steve wasn’t perfect, he was a human being but it was impossible to dislike Steve – the number of people who attended his funeral is a testament to just how popular + well-liked he was. He loved + cared about his family + friends + was there when I was down + needed him.

For a time, I was thinking what’s the point in carrying on with the S.T.E. + this whole music thing. It all seemed so trivial. If that’s all it was (just music), then yes, that would be the case.

However, the friendships, feelings + sense of community spirit, that’s there in our scene, far, far outweighs mere notes + guitar sounds. At our regular Sunday night ‘Scrabble’ sessions, the day after a gig, Steve would often talk more about: the conversations he’d had with such + such rather than the bands who’d played.

If anything positive can come out of Steve’s death, it’s that you have to cherish + appreciate your friends. What we have in Southampton + the people who come to S.T.E. gigs are special – don’t take it for granted.

Right now, I’m listening to JAWBOX’s ‘Novelty’ album.  Their song ‘Dreamless’ (+ the other 2 songs played at his funeral, NICK DRAKE’s ‘Pink Moon’ + ‘Texarkana’ by R.E.M.) will always remind me of Steve. I’ll miss that laugh, I’ll miss making him tapes + him making me cups of tea + vegetable pate sandwiches + above all, I’ll miss him. Right now, I still feel the pain of his loss – time heals all wounds they say but the memory will always remain.

So long Steve, your friend Rich.

12th Jan 2024 – Rich was the first person that I really connected with in Southampton from attending and playing shows at the West Indian Club. Even though Steve and I had toured together in our bands I didn’t really connect with him until later. Rich, Paul, Rob, and Steve, along with Johnny, Chrissy and Selina became the group of folks that I was closest to and despite living quite removed from them I always had a feeling of kinship and warmth. For those closer to Steve in location, the impact of his passing must have felt even crueller.