As Jeff said in his email to me the magazine/fanzine/newsletter or however it’s described was photocopied and sent as promo material along with demo type stuff (‘ freebie to certain selected correspondents’ is the actual wordage). This is the materiel you’ll find on discogs and elsewhere. Small run cassettes of various compilations of CC members and others from the large output we did over the years. This is stuff that we didn’t really deem fit to grace the grooves in vinyl having the Crawling Chaos epithet which is why they’re not dwelt on in this website. Blood Samples From The Pox Clinic is but an example .
However it’s interpreted, what happened was that we recorded stuff in various veins and only afterwards was it decided what to do with it….
The intro makes an interesting read.
Hi cultural lovers. Gathered here today is a varied selection of works by some members of Foetus Products.
Plenty of super doopa photies, useful recipes, classic poetry, and some wonderful art work which when gazed on will make the mind.
We are lucky enough to have put together the talents of The Marquis Glissanda Ermies Tourdé whose poetry reading has turned many a W.I. meeting into anarchy.
Also we have included some lyrics by The Crawling Chaos which can be heard on the last L.P. So now everyone can sing along to Wee Jimmee whatever the occasion may be.
The photos were all taken by the official foetus vet, Fabian Shyte.
The holiday snaps series was some very rare and early work by David Bowie, which since this publication he has denied that he was the actual person in the pictures.
Vex Dhole is just a cunt.
Flambard d’Quinceteth, the local drunk, is Tyne and Wear Council’s chief advisor for flower arranging, and isn’t terribly good with words.
I think that covers everyone involved, so all that’s left to do is wish you all a very happy Birthday.
The time at the Pits started with Jeff and me (Doomage & Strangely) living above it, accessed through the black door on the left in the picture which is number three. (We were forced out of the top flat in Front Street just down the road by the landlord who wanted his property back in sensible hands… <g> ). The Pits is on the right. The flat was freezing since we couldn’t afford to heat it. It had a combi-gas water heater thus I’d spend many an hour in the bath warming up.
The Pits was a serious pun, since it really was the pits… both up high and down below in Baldy’s flat. True, it was a time of intense creativity, this creativity extending into the time when Jeff and me had to find another place – this was in the prison-like dwellings in Killingworth, Gazza (gary Clennel now adding to us making us a trio). We were in C-wing…. Callaly Tower. This had blown air heating with the front door up some stairs on another level which meant all the heat shot outside when the door was opened. It was truly shite.
The kids used to climb up and down the pillars supporting the pathways such was the level of angst. The pathways were extremely slippy in winter and rain. More pictures of the shitehole can be found here.
During this time Jeff, Gazza, Baldy, me and a young lady called Maxine formed a short-lived troupe playing covers stuff like Moonage Daydream, Heroes and Scary Monsters by Bowie (say) called Maxine & The Lurchers. AFAIK, this is the only photie of it all. German Filmstar comes to mind too…
Don’t it drone on…
For about a year or so, our lives were full of creativity, yet still, the pits. Despite the creativity, there was always the brake, which naturally led to the break.
For a descriptive level of pits-ness, apart from the creativity, a highlight (for me) was one night when Gazza and myself were cycling back to C-Wing pissed up. On passing the Earsdon roundabout I looked left and saw Gazza fall asleep and with the biggest grin on his face tip off left right across the path into the ditch/verge just past the roundabout. – (SP)
Now that was funny, oh how we larft, but it was still the pits.