Terminal Jive

Creative projects by Abigail Ward

Tag: 1988

Not Going Shopping: audio documentary

This audio documentary was created to mark the 30th anniversary of Manchester’s anti-Clause 28 march, 1988. Attended by 20,000 people, the protest was a seminal moment in UK LGBT+ history. The piece seeks to evoke the sounds and emotions experienced on that day through interviews with marchers, fragments of archival material and music.

It was also conceived as a tribute to the LGBT+ activists who organised and took part in the demonstration.

The title comes from the chant, “we’re here, we’re queer and we’re not going shopping”.

Section 28 or Clause 28 formed part of the Local Government Act 1988.

Section 28 of that act stated:

(1) A local authority shall not:

a) intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality

b) promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship

Contributors:

Angela Cooper
David Hoyle
Kath McDermott
Louise Wallwein MBE
Luchia Fitzgerald
Paul Fairweather

This piece was commissioned by Manchester Pride and Superbia.  Special thanks to Greg Thorpe and all who contributed.

It forms part of the Queer Noise exhibition for MDMArchive:

Produced by Abigail Ward.

Abigail Ward is a curator, musician and DJ. Her work explores the place at which music, politics and protest meet. For 10 years she has been documenting the history of LGBT+ music and club life in Greater Manchester through her digital heritage project, Queer Noise. She is a co-founder of Manchester Digital Music Archive.

Love Will Save The Day

[From the vaults: a blog for Pop ‘Til You Drop, 2011]

“When you’re feeling full of doubt
And fear has got you in a bind
Love will save the day…”

I have done my best throughout my life to avoid the work of Whitney Houston. That never-ending winter of 1992 still casts a shadow. There was I, fifteen years old, miserable, watching ‘I Will Always Love You’ on The Chart Show for the umpteenth week, just yearning for something (anything) else to hit the number one spot. And there was Whitney, splay-legged, hands in that saintly clasp, wobbling her jaw to achieve maximum vibrato… God, she made me want to slash my armpits with boredom. No wonder records like this sounded so good.

But recent events have forced me to re-evaluate one tiny section of the Twitney back catalogue. At the second Pop ‘Til You Drop back in April, my partner in crime DJ Danielle Moore dropped ‘Love Will Save The Day’. I had just wedged myself into the toilet and was happily adding to the graffiti (I <3 Shep Pettibone) when the disquieting realisation that I was enjoying a Whitney Houston record hit me. Then, seconds later, lettuce barely shaken, I found myself careering around the dancefloor like an inebriated farmhand whilst paying customers looked on aghast.

By coincidence, last Monday evening, during an extravagantly lubricated Spotify session here at Pop Heights, ‘Love Will Save The Day’ surfaced again, confirming my suspicion that the tune is a wig-lifting, wab-wobbling, gusset-splitting anthem of titanic proportions, in spite of its cloying ‘message’.

The next day, after a couple of light ales, I was persuaded by my Whitney-loving friend to investigate the White Vest album further. One fraught listen off cassette on a car stereo, during which I left bite marks on my own fist, revealed there is little else on there for the taking. Whitney’s version of ‘I Know Him So Well’, performed with her mother (somewhat inappropriately), sounds like two car alarms arguing in an empty turbine hall. ‘Didn’t We Almost Have It All’ is another wallpaper-stripping ballad that Ms. Houston approaches with all the subtlety and restraint of a newly promoted drill sergeant. The whole album is plastered in the kind of electric piano that makes you feel like you’re having the contents of a Cadbury’s Creme Egg squeezed into your earhole as you listen. It really does make a girl want to smoke crack.

Which I almost did, back in 1993, when eventually Whitney was knocked off her perch by this:

Hard times indeed.

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