It is 1991. John Major is the prime minister. Nirvana have just released Nevermind. Britpop is just a twinkle in Damon Albarn’s eye. And in the small Essex commuter village of Elsenham, Stewart Shaw (15), whose loft-bound drum practices echo out over the village crossroads, and his mate Darren Bardoe (18) blessed with a rock star voice beyond his tender years and a haircut from the glam rock era, are hatching dreams of stardom. But the young and beautiful guitar boys from school have deserted them for better-equipped, and let’s face it, more talented local bands.
In the meantime, Dave Todd, a full eight years older than Stewart, is becoming known as an awkward, twee solo performer in Harlow and Bishop’s Stortford. Dave’s mum babysat Stewart when he was two, and Dave remembered him as being a bit of handful. Little did he know how much of a handful he was to become.
Stew got in contact with Dave, who lived a stone’s throw away, via walkie talkies (Duracell batteries, obvs) that he’d left at Dave’s ten years earlier, suggesting a jam. And so it was that they hauled Dave’s guitar amp into Stewart’s loft, and jammed All or Nothing by the Small Faces. There was potential, but the band needed a musical direction, actual structured songs, and, most importantly, a name. And then Dave had a dream, in which he saw a Tin Foil Circus. It was a sign. A crap sign, but a sign nonetheless.
It was clear from the outset that a punk/pop/indie hybrid was going to be the easiest genre to embrace. Darren thrust a bass guitar into the hands of fellow pub-lover Guy Rowland, and the band was formed. Their first song, ‘We’ve Had Enough’, was a song about their own experiences of dodgy pubs in Bishop’s Stortford; an homage to disaffected, directionless youth. Darren wasn’t convinced that this song was the cement to bond this bunch of bricks but then when he popped round to Stewarts in December 1991, Dave and Stew played him their song ‘Dead Generation’ (with real casio keyboard drums) and at that very moment, he knew this was special. Full of brio and perhaps also Lego, Stewart entered the band for the Harlow Rock Contest. It was November, and the heats were going to run from January 1992 across two months. The band had rehearsed possibly six times. “All we need,” Stewart assured the lads, “is not to get drawn in the first heat.” They were drawn in the first heat.
Now, at this point, only Dave had already experienced playing live on the local scene and had any semblance of confidence in front of an audience. Stew maintained his usual punchable arrogance, and was apparently unphased - but Darren and Guy were only confident in front of a barmaid with huge jugs (of beer). On hearing the news, Guy anxiously legged it and this prompted Darren to stub out his John Player Superking (98p for 10) and run after him, shouting promises that could be heard half way down Elsenham high street “we'll sell literally tens of records if you can just hold it together”.
Thankfully he did and after down tuning his middle finger, Tin Foil Circus hit the stage for the first time.
Their adversaries were the modestly-monikered The Good, whose singer wore a fur coat over his otherwise hairless chest. That’s all any of us can remember about them other than that they were from Epping and that the singers father had some money. Sadly, The Good had practiced, had better equipment, and sounded more rock-n-roll. Our heroes, clutching a mere handful of original songs and two or three cover versions, could not match them.
It wasn’t enough to be rock n roll, TFC had to sound rock n roll too. And so it was decided to recruit a fifth member, Dan Willson, who wore a leather jacket, and had not only an electric guitar but a wah wah pedal too. Dave, already grumpy at not being the singer, was now grumpy about not being the main guitarist either. But soon TFC’s songs were drenched in layers of grungy overdrive and sounded a whole lot better, and Dan turned out to be quite a nice chap too.
Despite their ropey initial performance, the band were invited to the Rock Contest ‘B’ Final, on the back of overwhelming popular vote. How Darren had so many mates is still hotly debated. Armed with more original material, TFC took to the stage fearlessly. A huge crowd (no really, we’re not taking the piss, there were loads of them) was there to support them, and there was stage-diving and general debauchery in bucketloads, which alarmed Dave, who was used to playing to two mice and a cockroach.
Unfortunately, Guy’s already tenuous hold on the fundamentals of playing the bass were exposed that night, as he was unable to tune it correctly. As well as that, he wasn’t turning up to rehearsals, due to having a social life and waking up on Sunday mornings in strange girls’ bedrooms. So Guy had to go. But not before he’d played on the demo.
Affording a proper recording studio was out of the question, so the band attempted to record their four-track demo cassette on Dave’s bottom-of-the-range VestaFire 4-track recording machine (cos our Facebook followers NEED to know that). It didn’t take long for the project to fall to pieces as high expectations failed to match with reality. In frustration, the recordings for the ‘She’s a Pistol Packin’ Mom’ EP were quietly shelved. As was Guy.
For Gig Three a temporary bass player (Ali McKay) was found, and the sound began to gel. The bands’ parents were even there to give moral support, and help get the amps home at the end of the gig. But a permanent bass player was needed. Dan knew Mark Francis, who had bass aspirations, so the band persuaded him to buy Guy’s bass and amp off him. Mark was a mod, but soon ditched the suit for the more standard indie-kid T-shirt and jeans. He was a novelty to the band in that he actually practiced between rehearsals, he could tune his bass, and he had a Ford Capri. He was in.
Gig 4 at Harlow’s Square was a delight, and new songs Train Song, You Make me Happier and Mr Scrapper’s Chip Shop (written by Danny) became firm favourites. The band ventured further afield, playing gigs in Saffron Walden and Bishop’s Stortford.
The Square’s promoter, Mac, saw promise in the band, and invited them for ‘a chat’ about their future. He promised us the earth, like gigs at the Kentish Town Bull and Gate and guaranteed Vimto for our underaged followers. But Dave had been offered a university place in Oxford (honestly) and the friction of creative rehearsals was beginning to fray at his nerves. So they were honest with Mac and the Bull and Gate became another distant, might-have-been dream. After a last gig, supported by ‘Salamanders Dream’ and ‘Headswirl’ (Paul Epworth’s band – what happened to him?) they disbanded.
Dave went off to University. Darren, eager to continue in his quest for greatness, was quickly snapped up by local band Touch of Blue, who had proper equipment and everything. But Dave wasn’t having a great time at university, and when he came back for summer wanted to carry on where they’d left off. Everyone was there in rehearsal, but Danny had a terrible secret – his dad had booked him into a long holiday at Center Parcs. He was never to perform with Tin Foil Circus again.
Dave was the main guitarist again, which suddenly felt a bit of a bugger, as he had to do all the bits that Danny had done. The band played a very small gig at the very small Bridge House pub in Bishop’s Stortford, followed by their absolutely final gig, a return to the Square. There were new songs such as Don’t give me that hippie bullshit, and Listening to the Biscuits, but it wasn’t enough to keep things going. As the final twisted strains of Jilted John came to a close, Darren said “Night night forever!” – and so it was.
And so the members moved on. Mark disappeared down a girls cleavage. Dan became an artist, then took up the guitar again to forge an international solo career under the moniker of Withered Hand. Darren spent some time with Repelephant, Grimly Flick, DC Effect and became a regular of the covers band scene with the epic Love Marbles. Stew enjoyed a short stint with all female rock band “Black Widow”, before moving to Bristol and after a brief flirtation with nascent grunge trio ‘Sven Electric’, lost his kit in a midnight house move, never to drum again. And Dave carried on solo for a bit, before forming folk band Spiderwoods in Oxford and doing a few gigs with them.
In the meantime, the band members did the usual things people do – got jobs, got partners and children, moved around a bit. But Stew, Dave and Darren stayed in contact. After realising that children grow up and suddenly become embarrassed by their parents, they knew that the only way to move forward was to embarrass themselves and their offspring further by regrouping. And so it came to be!