Beautiful South T-Shirt. 1991.
The Beautiful South were a pop group from Hull, England, who were once described by the New York Times as having “the music of Mary Poppins and the lyrics of Charles Manson.” Of the two criticisms, however, the band would most likely have taken umbrage with the former. The group was so named for its members’ belief that Hull, and other industrialized counties of Northern England, were looked down upon by their more “sophisticated” neighbors to the south. Hence, this T-shirt reads: NORTHERN SCUM, a self-deprecating barb directed towards southern snobs.
The Beautiful South rarely performed in America, so I was looking forward to seeing my favorite group on their first trip through Los Angeles, where I was then living. Before the show that night, I went to my local hang-out, Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood, where, at the bar, I happened to strike up a convers-ation with a guy who happened also, coincidentally, to be from Hull. Needless to say, I asked him if he knew of the group called The Beautiful South and he said that not only did he know of them, but also was a member! He immediately introduced me to the rest of the gang, who were playing pool in the back of the bar, where we all forged a fast friendship.
As it turned out, rather than merely seeing the band perform that night, I was invited by the group to travel with them on the road. As you might imagine, I had the time of my life—no less for the free ticket and backstage pass I had to each night’s performance. In the interest of full disclosure, I should add that, along the way, I was frequently mistaken for a member of the band. So there are to this day quite a few Beautiful South fans between San Diego and Salt Lake City with my signature on their paraphernalia. My instructions from the group’s manager were, “If they ask you to sign something, just sign it—they’ll figure it out later.” My apologies to anyone who feels slighted.
This T-shirt was given to me by the group to commemorate our time together, and it soon became my favorite. I wore it to shreds and stowed what remained of it in the back of my junk drawer where it has been kept in mothballs for the past twenty-odd years. Perhaps forecasting their contribution to my little museum, The Beautiful South once recorded a song called "One Man’s Rubbish (is another man’s gold)," a title that, I would say, perfectly describes the spirit behind my junk drawer collection.
