John Weaver,an unsung hero of Merseyside Music and record retailing
Skeleton Records
1st
Floor, 11 Oxton Road, Birkenhead, Merseyside CH41 2QQ
0151
653 9003
Monday-Saturday
11am-5.30pm
Established
1971
Stock:
Vinyl, CD, Pre-owned
“We must be the only shop in the country who has
Hawkwind as their biggest-selling band.” John Weaver - Skeleton Records
Any
vinyl fan visiting Liverpool should make the effort to take the ferry across
the river to visit the legendary music institution known affectionately as
Skellys. As a 13-year-old schoolboy, growing up in Bebington, I would get the
bus each weekend into Birkenhead to visit Skeleton, a magical and mystical
experience. The shop had no window and to enter you walked along a dark
corridor. The throbbing sound of progressive rock could be heard coming from
the end of what seemed like a cave, while the air was filled with the heady
smell of joss sticks and patchouli oil.
Time
has not dimmed the memory of my first visit. I recall entering a dimly-lit
world where anyone with less-than-perfect eyesight would struggle to read the
sleeve notes of the LPs on sale. At the
counter sat a man with long black hair and a droopy moustache. This was my
introduction to the owner John Weaver. He looked like Frank Zappa’s younger
brother and referred to everybody as “Man”. I am pleased to say he is still
going strong 40 years later. The long hair is a now grey and shorter, the
moustache has gone. But he still refers to you as “Man”.
I
found that the shop had moved. The directions I received from a passer-by were: “Just stay on this road till you see the
Recession Bar [surely the most depressingly named pub in the land]. Opposite
there is a road. Turn down there and Skeleton is between Mr. Yummy’s kebab shop
and the funeral parlour.”
Although
the shop still has no window, a huge mural of a skeleton is painted on the
exterior with a gigantic red arrow pointing to the shop’s doorway. I would be
interested to hear the funeral director’s opinion of the mural, which cannot be
great for their business. You enter the doorway and climb the stairs, which are
decorated with classic LP sleeves and posters promoting local gigs.
The
shop itself is divided into two rooms, one for new product, the other for
second-hand. The floor is covered in piles of collectable magazines such as Q, Mojo,
Record Collector, Kerrang! and Blues & Rhythm. If you
are a collector of Blues & Rhythm,
get in touch with John, because the issues he has for sale go back as far as
1972.
John
lives above the shop so he can sleep late every morning. His commute consists
of a mere twelve steps. John has spent his life in Birkenhead as his family
owned a chain of bookmakers. It was “odds on” that he would start work there
when he left school. Instead he started work in what he called the “Toytown
Savings Bank” better known as the TSB. Although he was good at his job, John
was keen to work for himself. Spotting a gap in the market thanks to
Birkenhead's lack of a proper record shop, he packed in his job to fulfil his
dream.
Finding
cheap premises next door to a printer’s, he opened Skeleton Records in August
1971. As well as dealing in second-hand records, he also sold posters, books,
underground press, incense, costume jewellery, joss sticks and patchouli oil.
He took the name from a line in the Syd Barrett song “If It's In You”, from his
1970 album The Madcap Laughs, in
which Syd sings “Skeleton kissed a steel rail”.
Although
they bought new stock, Skeleton was mainly a pre-owned emporium, selling
reasonably-priced stock. In the 1970s, I thought it was the best record shop on
the Wirral, and nothing has happened to change my view. Every week I would
purchase from John and if I didn’t like what I bought I would take it back and
he would let me trade it in. Many people preferred to sell their records to him
for cash. I was always impressed that no matter how dark it was in the shop,
John would be able to pick up any scratch on an LP that someone was looking to
sell, giving him the opportunity to knock them down on price. If you took
records to sell to him he would inspect them and divide them into three piles.
If
he raised his eyebrows and uttered the sound “ermm!” you knew you had given him
something of interest. A second pile of
records was the “OK” pile, where John made out he was doing you a favour to
take them off your hands. The third pile was stuff that John didn’t want
clogging up his racks, and would elicit a look which said “How come you brought
me this crap?”
One
Christmas I had been given a Ronco compilation album. Although it had the odd
song I liked such as Blackfoot Sue’s “Standing in the Road”, most of the stuff
was easy listening such as The Carpenters, Middle Of The Road and Sammy Davis
Jnr, singing “The Candy Man” (a song now played constantly by Chris Evans on
Radio 2, still sounding as bad as it did then). Although somewhat disappointed
with my present, I took solace in the fact that I could take it to Skeleton and
swap it for something decent. To this day, I have never forgotten the
embarrassment of handing over my brand-new copy of Ronco’s 20 Greatest Hits LP to John and hearing him saying, in
front of a crowded shop, “Sorry man, even I can’t sell this.”
In
1976 John started promoting gigs in and around the Birkenhead and Liverpool
area by acts such as Motorhead, the Jam, Fairport Convention and the Dead
Kennedys. He must be the only man to
have booked the Sex Pistols three times and, even though every gig was
cancelled, managed to make a profit. On the first two occasions, the band
cancelled, but each time John was able to rearrange the gig. For the
long-awaited rearranged concert, John hired out a large cabaret club in
Birkenhead called The Hamilton. Recent artists who had played there included
Tom O’Connor, Tony Christie, Stan Boardman and the Grumbleweeds. It was a place
that served chicken in a basket and would have a raffle after the first act had
performed: hardly a venue where you would expect to find the most controversial
band in the country performing. On the day tickets went on sale, the shop had
more than 80 people queuing outside. Tickets quickly sold out for what was to
become the most anticipated gig in the history of Birkenhead.
The
Hamilton Club started getting pressure from both the council and the police to
cancel the gig, something they had never experienced when putting on Tom
O’Connor.
With
stories dominating the tabloid press to the effect that the band were
corrupting the youth of the nation, the owners of the club met with John and
told him that with much reluctance they were going to have to cancel the gig.
John braced himself for hundreds of fans coming in to the shop to claim a
refund, but the rush never materialized. Only a trickle of fans came in to ask
for their money back. John made an £800 profit on the gig because fans
preferred to keep the tickets as a souvenir of a Sex Pistols gig that never
happened, rather than claim a refund. And who knows what one of those tickets
is worth now?
One
of the earliest punk gigs John promoted was Siouxsie & the Banshees. On the day of the gig he was surprised to
receive a phone call to ask if Siouxsie could not only borrow the support
band’s equipment but also go on stage first. It turned out the band could not
afford to hire a van, so they had purchased some cheap day return tickets for
the train instead. The problem was that the last train back to London was at
10.30pm. The punters who decided to give the support band a miss that night
witnessed a performance by local band the Accelerators who couldn’t believe
their luck, playing to a sell-out crowd.
The
most pleasing gig John put on was Elvis Costello. He received a phone call from
Elvis’s management, asking if he could promote a gig in the Birkenhead area.
The only problem was that John was not allowed to advertise it or put up
posters. Clearly this would not work as he could only make money if people
attended. He need not have worried, because he found a venue in New Brighton
and through word of mouth alone, more than 400 people turned up to see Elvis
play. It was only during the encore that the reason became apparent why Elvis
had wanted to play the low-key gig: he had brought his mum, who lived locally,
onto the stage to sing her “Happy Birthday”. With a packed venue, it was a
great atmosphere and something his mum would never forget.
John
formed the Skeleton Records label in 1978, releasing records by Attempted
Moustache, Afraid Of Mice, Wayne Hussey (who went on to find fame with The
Mission), Windows, The Relations, Geisha Girls, Instant Agony and This Final
Frame. Both Instant Agony singles reached the top ten of the indie charts. He
also passed up the chance the chance to release the first ever single by
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. He had seen the band perform at Eric’s, the
famous Liverpool venue, and was so impressed by their electronic sound that he
offered to release their debut single. OMD had decided to release a song called
“Always” but John persuaded them that the B-side “Electricity” was a better
track. He had booked a holiday to America and when he came back he was
disappointed to discover that OMD had gone for a deal with Factory Records.
“Electricity” became a cult classic helping OMD to become one of the most
successful chart acts of the last 40 years.
John’s
financial position didn’t improve as none of the label’s releases were making
him a profit and he lost his Christmas trade after the shop closed during that
crucial trading period, due to a flood. As is often the case, the insurance
company paid him a lot less than the value of the stock and business he had
lost. Debts were piling up and John was advised to go bankrupt. He was warned
that the receivers would come and confiscate all his stock, so he devised a
cunning plan. John hired a van and drove down to the Record Exchange in London.
He offered to take as much stock off them as possible if it was priced at 10p
or below. The Record Exchange were delighted to clear out thousands of
unsellable records and John drove back to Birkenhead with probably the worst
music collection ever.
Back
in Birkenhead, John arranged with a mate who ran a pub to store all the good
stock from the shop. John then replaced the empty racks with the stock he had
bought from the Record Exchange. What he didn’t count on was the receivers
turning up so early, as he was still transferring the quality stock over to the
pub. He allowed himself a smile when the receivers commented that it was no
wonder he went bust, “selling this crap”. Due to the stress of going bankrupt,
John took a bit of time out to recover before starting again at the address he
still has today under the name Skellys. He waited a few years for the fuss about
his bankruptcy to die down before reverting to the shop’s original name
Skeleton Records. I am glad to say this avid Tranmere Rovers fan and legend of
record retailing is still delighting music fans of The Wirral and it is worth a
visit just to see the Skeleton painting on the wall outside the shop.
Taken from the book 'The Vinyl Revival and the Shops
That Made it Happen' by Graham Jones
ReplyDeleteI used to contribute with others to a friend's Manchester based fanzine called Penetration 1974/75/76 We often came to Liverpool to see shows at the Empire and we always visited Skeleton records. On one happy occasion I was excited to find the Nuggets album and I also bought a Blues Magoo's album. Very fond memories🙂
Sorry I posted last comment...
ReplyDeleteTim
Great to see John's still doing it.. All the best John from the madhouse across the pond
ReplyDeleteGreat Blog...
ReplyDeleteShop Front Suppliers Liverpool
Thanks Simon
DeleteSo glad you enjoyed it. You can hear more of Skeleton on my podcast and in my book The Vinyl Revival and the Shops That Made it Happen. https://soundcloud.com/recordshoppodcast/funny-tales-from-liverpool-record-shops