#742: 1992, BMX Bandits, Serious Drugs

by Ray_North on August 20, 2013

I can’t for the life of me remember how this came about, but, in another
time, me and Jackie lived for about year with a gang of four Irish girls. They’d come over from Dublin to London in pursuit of fun and perhaps a job and brought with them a voracious appetite for partying. We were 19, they were a year or so older. They lived on our couch in our lounge. Disappearing to temp jobs in the City before we’d got up, then going out every night.

The most fragile of them was Nelly McAvoy. She liked to read, listen to music and get off her tits. She was as pale as a February tuesday afternoon, and, in my own mind may well have come to a bad end somewhere.One day I came home from college and she asked me if I wanted to go and see The BMX Bandits at ULU – ok, I said. I remember nothing about the gig, apart from us both buying bootleg cassettes which I still have somewhere.

Scottish week has seen the BMX Bandits referenced a couple of times as a great Glaswegian band – and they were, quirky and clever in a Gregory’s Girl way that Scottish youth can pull off so well – they took you to a place that seemed to force you to consider your place within the world along with all the other vulnerable, weak, flawed and confused individuals who hide away what they might be really feeling.

I don’t think they played this song, maybe they did. But, it became my favourite song of theirs. They’re still going, or so I’m led to believe. I wonder what happened to Nelly McAvoy?

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