Swells – The Sonofabitch That Refuses To Die

Following the death of Steven Wells last week, I promised that I would throw up some of my fave Swells ‘bits’, whatever that might entail.

Swells grabs some Atilla

I expected a few items to appear online, some obituaries perhaps a few comments. Since last Wednesday there has been an absolute shitload of stuff posted around the internet.  It would be impossible for me to point you in the direction of all of it.  Frankly, anyone who isn’t familiar with his writing (and even those who are) would be better served reading his own articles, rather than other people’s tributes.  Google him at The Guardian and Philadelphia Weekly.  If you find any other gems elsewhere please tell Old Rope about them.

That said, I’ll whizz through a few bits and bobs before he emails me from beyond the grave, haranguing all and sundry for letting this all go too far.

Some of the comments, memories and anecdotes of the last week are quite touching and hilarious. If you are that way inclined or can be arsed have a read.  Philadelphia Weekly, to their credit, have slapped him on the cover of their current issue. Online they have tributes from Billy Bragg, Everett True, Attilla The Stockbroker, countless journalists (see comments in his last article), other acquaintances from over the years and his colleagues at PW.  Though they have produced an additional tribute article  (and I understand some bits in the paper, possibly, it wont work on my computer) the NME would have been wise to dedicate an issue solely to reprinting his best pieces – they would certainly have seen a sharp spike in their sales.

What was most striking from the ‘tributes’ that surfaced online, is that it seems Swells acted as a mentor to many a young intern, fresh out of college and trying to cut their chops in the world of journalism.  One of the most interesting things in the wake of his death is the sheer volume of people citing him not only as an inspiration, but as a man who actively encouraged young writers.  He always took the time to personally goad, slander and chide the young men and women who crossed his path, but ultimately, according to their own testimony, galvanise and help improve their work.  Said one intern:

“Steven was like Miracle-Gro for the crop of interns who came through the PW offices while he was an editor. He wasn’t okay with just letting us go about our anonymous business of fact-checking, hoping to get hired and slowly dying inside. He yelled at us, he read our college clips and told us, for the love of god, never to show them to anyone ever again. He threw writing assignments our way when few others would even look at our pitches. He kicked our asses out of the nest to see whether we’d hit the ground.”

Some of the tributes are a little humbling and remind me that, despite ten years of correspondence and relentless enthusiasm  -  if not outright heckling   -  on Steven’s behalf, I was too chickenshit most of the time to really pull up my breeches and crack on.   The man actually wanted drafts of my god-awful, barely written non-book called “BEEF!” (don’t ask).  He offered constructive advice when I (we) danced a merry dance with the wretched NME.

There’s bucket-loads of stuff appearing on blogs strewn about the place (search WordPress and Blogger just for a kick-off), tales from people who knew Swells, either in person or by his writing.  At the risk of lauding the cult of the individual, a sin Swells would have chastised us for, it is these personal stories and memories that interest me most.  

As I have already stated, I cannot mention them all, but a few honourable mentions must go to to Stewart Home’s always excellent blog (and notably his touching Swells piece), the reliably funny David Quantick’s obituary, Loft and Lost for being a gent, Squares of Wheat for having the foresight and sense to post some audio clips (as have PW in the Attilla piece) - deffo grateful for them; Dear Kitty’s nice post, Bleeding Heart Show, the infamous Everett True, A Fog of Ideas (both the original Swells post and a more than generous to Old Rope follow-up piece), Will over at When Hearts Turn Blue,  and many many more that I am too sad or too drunk to remember.  Some of the above I am grateful to for saying kind things about my own shitty effort. 

An especially honourably mention must go to the obituary in the Philadelphia Inquirer  -  aside from reminding me of the infamous NME review in which he simply wrote the word “NO” 387 times, it has some  quotes from his wife, far more cogent and loving than half the dross we now spew in Swellsie-Baby’s name.  I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he married a vegetarian, the wimp  -  kudos to Katherine!

Even the Socialist Worker avoids the temptation to lay too much claim to his name (and accurately notes the fact that he struggled with party discipline during his tenure in the SWP fold  -  surely the sign of a true revolutionary…?)

There’s some videos he did for Philadelphia Weekly on Youtube, on the subject of various American themes.  His tongue can practically been seen bulging in his cheek, but he loves every minute of it and they are funny.  Here is a good spread from his days as Seething Wells.  I am also thrilled that someone got their lazy arse in gear and initiated an online repository for all that is Swells.  No library could hold all that he wrote, but we owe it to the bastard to clog the internet’s fetid arteries with as much of it as we can.  Anyone got any of his old Molotov Comics?

And before I forget, that fucker said if I gave him a tenner he’d have me ‘killed’ in his next novel, Holy Joe.  I came up with the readies and where the fuck is the book Steve lad, you liar???!!!  You owe me a a bev in Hev lad.

 

::  Some archived Swells pieces care of Archived Music Press 
::  In Memory of Steven Wells, Old Rope 
::  A Gold Swimming Pool of Tits – Emails From Swells