A Psychedelic Crusade: Bobby Gillespie’s Tenement Kid

Bobby Gillespie’s autobiography is a devotional, often hedonistic tale of rock and roll, punk and acid house salvation, writes Chris Bateman

Bobby Gillespie is a believer. A true disciple who, in his autobiography Tenement Kid, is going to take you on a spiritual journey through poverty and the struggles of a city at the end of time, in a country being dismantled by an evil overlord with all the might of the state behind her, and into the light and triumph of a band finding their identity. It is a tale of redemption, of how – through a spiritual and chemical path – rock and roll can truly save, taking you away from the suffering to your higher self. This is a tale of love; it is a tale of salvation.

If you were to only read the first 75 pages of Tenement Kid, you would go on a tour of a city in decay; post-war Glasgow slowly crawling to the end of its industrial era. You would experience a sense of confusion and wonder what this induced in the young Gillespie as he saw his neighbourhood slowly dismantled, becoming wasteland as entire streets were demolished and factories shape-shifted into giant, dangerous, playgrounds. It conjures up the imagery of Raymond Depardon’s Glasgow series of photographs (Depardon was famously commissioned by the Sunday Times to take photographs of Glasgow but they were considered far too depressing for the readership and thus never published): deprivation, poverty and bleakness, but look closely enough and you will find colour and light too.

If the first section is all bleak post-industrial Glasgow, then part two moves on to a David Keenan-like dreamland (although punk rather than post-punk) where Gillespie has his true musical epiphany discovering rock and roll then punk. Seeing The Clash at the legendary Glasgow Apollo is an experience that ignites “something that was lying dormant inside” him and his tales of the wild violence and thrilling sonic encounters on the Glasgow gig scene are evocative and often hilarious, especially when contrasted with the sometimes corporate, sterile live music environments of today. Along the way he regales us with stories of violent punks and drug use, with a cast of both notable and forgotten characters. All with the sheer joy and excitement present at the beginning of any new scene.

As was the case for many who went on to form bands, punk was an awakening that pulled him into a culture and a way of life. His writing about the power which bands such as The Clash, The Sex Pistols and Siouxsie and the Banshees had on him at times verges on the devotional. This quasi-religious sense of the divine is present throughout his writing and at points he seems tuned in to higher powers, with talk of “souls connecting” to achieve a state of “rock and roll grace” and of being like a pilgrim “on a psychedelic crusade to a holy shrine”. Music is Gillespie’s calling and Tenement Kid is at its best when he is in the pulpit rejoicing about his favourite bands.

Away from matters ecumenical, Tenement Kid does not disappoint as a rock and roll memoir in terms of two standard expectations of the genre: anecdotes and insight. His tales of rock and roll excess are often brilliant and written in a flowing, easygoing prose style. For example, acid tripping with the Jesus and Mary Chain back in their early days has an Irvine Welsh-esque dark comic feel to it. His literary credentials cannot be dismissed, with Alexander Trocchi and Charles Bukowski popping up among references to a whole bibliography of literary and cinematic counter culture titles.

Gillespie’s love for and appreciation of the Mary Chain really comes through and he clearly holds no grudges after he was fired as their drummer to be replaced, rather ignominiously, by a drum machine. Reading him talk of the Reid brothers and their ability to unleash “the occult power of rock and roll” is really touching, and is the voice of a man who, ultimately, is not just a connoisseur but a true obsessive, one who genuinely lives and breathes it.

The final sections of the book take us through the voyage of discovery that Primal Scream went on in their early career as they traverse from leather clad rockers to Andrew Weatherall-inspired electronic soul ravers. The interplay between Gillespie, the band, Alan McGee and, of course, Weatherall is a fascinating, hedonistic deep dive into the creative process (“stop fannying about… just fucking destroy it” was the infamous instruction to Weatherall as he did the breakthrough mix of “Loaded”). Acid house was as much an influence on them as Weatherall himself. Jeff Barrett later said in a Jockey Slut interview that this was the point Primal Scream moved on from Johnny Thunders to Chicago house; it was time for their rock and roll metamorphosis.

There has been some unfair criticism about Gillespie around this, with a tendency among certain writers to point to Weatherall essentially reinventing their sound single-handedly and therefore saving them from obscurity. Tenement Kid proves this to be nonsense, as the book charts Gillespie’s development as an artist and how he was committed to his influences and willing to take inspiration from others. Part of what makes Screamadelica such an essential record for me is the willing embrace of new forms. To take something new and exciting and harness it to your own art takes not only talent and vision but a sense of confidence and defiance of the naysayers. The musical landscape is a better place because of those who take such risks.

Tenement Kid is a close-up on how an artist can take their lived experiences and the world they see, and pour them into the thing they love the most. What happens within this creative alchemy is a question we all want to know the answer to and Tenement Kid offers more than a glimpse. It does what you expect from a rock and roll memoir but also achieves something rare for the genre: it gives the sense that Gillespie is still one of us. Someone who comes from a background familiar to many, who has stood in the crowd and on the terraces alongside us, bought the same records and embraced the feelings of joy and fraternity that comes with being part of a scene.

Tenement Kid by Bobby Gillespie is published by White Rabbit

Signed copies available from Monorail Music