No doubt Sid vicious is the most infamous of all punks that have passed on since
the explosion onto the music scene back in 1976. Sid, born John Simon Ritchie
on May 10th 1957 grew up in London and after dropping out of secondary school,
quickly tagged on to the Bromley contingent and started to follow The Sex Pistols
around. Before Malcolm McClaren replaced Glen Matlock with Sid on bass, he
had played drums with Siouxsie and The Banshees at a gig. Sid's mum Anne
Beverly had her own drug problems and didn't look out to much for her son.
Within months of joining the Pistols, Sid was starting to spiral out of control,
helped by an American groupie called Nancy Spungen, who prior to meeting Sid
was working as a prostitute in London. Despite countless plea's from Johnny
Rotten to dump her, Sid could see no fault in Nancy and her manipulation of Sid
was obvious to everyone bar the man himself. After the Pistols tour broke up in
America in 1978, Johhny Rotten returned to the UK, and so the final dice were
thrown, as the last remaining stabilising figure in Sids crazy life departed. Nancy
joined Sid in New York and they moved into the Chelsea Hotel, with Nancy
appointing herself as Sids manager and the financial controller as well. On Oct.
11th, 1978 , Sid and Nancy bought a knife while out shopping together and
were flush with thousands of dollars that Nancy had, from Sid's appearances at
Max's and also money that Malcolm McClaren gave to her that Sid was due (Fact).
They bought an entire stash of heroin from a local dealer and returned to
apartment number 100 in The Chelsea Hotel and proceeded to shoot up. There
are many different versions of what happened next, too many in fact, but the
following one is the one I believe is what happened. I have spent countless hours,
reading police reports, and also statements from Sids friends and it is obvious to
me, that Sid was the easy target for the police to charge with Nancy's murder.
After shooting up, they were in a drug crazed stupor. At around 3am, the drug
dealer returned to the apartment looking for some of his drugs back as he needed
a hit in the morning. Sid was out of it on the bed and Nancy stumbled towards the
door where she promptly told the dealer to fuck off and tried to close the door.
The dealer pushed his way in, and seeing Sid unconcious on the bed, grabbed
Nancy shouting for the drugs. He grabbed the knife that was on the bedside table
and stabbed Nancy in the stomach then leaving with the drugs and cash that was
in the flat with some other stuff as well. Sid woke up on the morning of the 12th
Oct. and he found Nancy covered in blood on the floor of the bathroom.
He immedietely called reception and asked for an ambulance to be sent
straight away.(Fact) The police accompanied the emrgency medical personnel
to the hotel and Sid, still in a drugs induced incoherant state was arrested. He
immedietely and always denied killing Nancy, and was released on bail but had to
remain in New York. He had attempted to commit suicide 10 days after Nancy
died on the 22nd of Oct. Sadly the vultures were already cashing in on the events
of the past few days and it was Malcolm McClaren who epitemised the ultimate in
"Bastard buisness ethics", by selling t-shirts in his shop on Oct. 15th with a picture
of Sid on it, surrounded by dead roses with the slogan, "She's Dead, I'm Alive, I'm
Yours". On the 9th of December Sid was in Hurrahs disco bar and Patti Smiths
brother Todd started to argue with Sid and punched him in the face. Sid retaliated
with a broken bottle. He had violated his parole and was promptly arrested and
spent the next 7 weeks in jail going through the slow painful process of drug
withdrawal symptoms while detoxing. On the 1st Feb., he was released on $50,000
bail and was greeted at the gates of the jail by his mum and his junkie mates. His
mother subsequently bought heroin for him and after taking some asked for more
which his mother gave him, at the party held to celebrate his release. On the 2nd
Feb. 1979 Sid was found dead in his bed by his mother. And so the final chapter
of the most famous iconic punk that ever lived drew to a close. I for one don't
believe that Sid killed Nancy. He loved her too much, he adored her, besides this,
the police had no explanation as to why all the money that Nancy & Sid had, was
missing. Further to that there were no drugs found in the apartment. As well as
those two points , Sids gold record was missing as was some of his Sex Pistols
stuff that he had held onto as some of his most precious keepsakes. Finally through
all his drug withdrawal agony, through all his interogations by the police, through
all his conversations with his friends, Nancy's mum, his legal team and his fellow
prisoners, he always maintained that he did not kill his beloved Nancy. There is
one final part of this story that concerns another rumour that has done the rounds
about Sid. he was cremated, and rumour has it that his mum fell as she was
arriving at Heathrow airport, dropping the urn and most of his ashes were blown
through the ventilation system. That my friends did not happen. Anne Beverly
took Sids ashes after he was cremated and went to Philedelphia , where on a cold
snowy night in Feb 1979, she sneaked into the cemetry where Nancy had been
buried by her family and scattered his ashes in the snow over Nancy's grave. Anne
Beverly used proudly show a piece of paper that had a poem scrawled on it which
Sid had written while in Riker prison. It was simply titled Nancy.
"NANCY"
You were my little baby girl and I knew all your fears.
Such joy to hold you in my arms, and kiss away your tears.
But now you're gone there's only pain and nothing I can do.
And I dont want to live this life, if I cant live for you.
Sid Vicious............Jan 1979
Alan Confrey - Blood or Whiskey
1972 - 2006
Alan Confrey
Alan Confrey was one of those guys that you would be lucky to meet every now and again. He lived life to the full in every means of the word, he loved and hated life, and knew all the ups and downs, thats what made him a real man of the world. Thirty three is a very young age to leave this life but Alan fitted more into those years than most people would do in a hundred. I only knew Alan a few years, not like some of his, skin, punk and biker life time mates from Dun Laoighaire & Dublin. Alans idea of a good time or a good gig was that everyone was happy at the end of it. It might not have always transpired that way, but it wasn't for the lack of trying on Alan's behalf. Never one to be shy when having an opinion, he more often than not , went where angels feared to tread, and voiced his own point of view often against the run of the mill. Indeed , one of the more memorable occasions was when Blood or Whiskey were at a prison gig in Mountjoy and we were taken on a tour of the prison before the gig. Most of us were watching our P's & Q's , but not Alan , as a prison warder asked us outside a cell whether we'd like to see inside a prisoners cell. As a few of the group murmed yes, and followed the warder into the cell, Alan started to shout "No fucking way am I going into any mans private space and thats the only fucking free space they've left to call their own", and so ended the shortest cell visit in history, as the ashen faced warder proceeded on down the corridor. But more was to come as he stopped , regaining his composure and gave the official speel of how we were outside the condemed mans cell, and how they used have to stay there before their execution the next day. He then said, "It was very tough in those days", to which Alan shouted back at him, "I don't fucking suppose you make it any easier on them nowadays".
Yes that was Alan, to the front, vociferous, honest to a fault, but a gem that is more rare nowadays than one thinks. His funeral was a mark of how he was held in the music and punk world, with tributes coming in from the Anti Nowhere League, Angelic Upstarts, and Stiff Little Fingers who the band had only finished a tour with last week, amongst others, and with many people travelling far distances for his removal and burial with moving and beautiful music played in the chapel. Most moving or poignent of all most probably of all was a recording of Thin Lizzy singing as his coffin was carried out on his last journey. Yes Alan admired the original "Black Rose" of Dublin, Phil Lynott, he loved Thin Lizzy. But in a final and fitting tribute Beano (Blood or Whiskey) threw a black rose into the grave on his coffin as fellow band mates , Chris, Peter, Sean, Dugs and Napalm looked on. As we all hoped that one "Black Rose" finally met another. So one hopes he's up there at the big gig in the sky, and if he is, most likely he'll be arguing with Joe Strummer and Phil Lynott about the whole scene. But tell you what, it'd be one great gig to be at, yes, with Alan there, it'd be a stormer.
REST IN PEACE ALAN.........................YOU WILL BE MISSED.
