I want to tell you a story about the place I grew up. Not the home I lived in as a child, or where I went to school, but the place I came of age.
To many it was nothing more than a dark room at the top of the stairs, a dingy club with worn out carpet and patrons who had seen better days – but not to us.
To us, and you know who you are, it was home. It was the JR.
Inside those walls, I felt the first flutter of (what I thought was..) love, found the comfort of sanctuary and forged the bonds of friendship.
They were the days when fringed jackets and bike pants were cool, girls were envious of their boyfriend’s hair and ‘our’ musos were stars.
Back then we were at a crossroads, an age when everything was in turmoil. There were break-ups, breakdowns, broken hearts and busted lips, but the one thing you could count on was walking into the JR and finding your friends.
My cousin Archie, how I miss you, Legend and Dude sat like sentries at the side of the bar, their backs the first thing you would see as you turned the corner. Penny, JR Number One Dancer, her shirt told us as much, holding court on the back dance floor. I went to school with Penny, she was in my year, and for all, we went through in our high school days it warmed my heart to see her up there – at home, on the dance floor. Chris, and his hair, in the kitchen ready with a smile, and there was, of course, Victor. The patriarch of the club, Victor was the holder of drink cards, the gatekeeper of the stage and the person who more than once had to drive me home because I spent all my money on shots of Tequila. So much for the drinks cards…
Yes, there were other clubs back then, but there was something different about the JR. It provided a certain comfort that I for one, never found at other places. More than four walls, the JR felt like home because it held all the qualities of a rough and tumble best friend. The kind of friend who paid no mind to airs and graces, who didn’t care when your hair was a mess, and who you could call up at 2am – on a weeknight. There was no judgement at the JR. If you fell (and many of us did…) someone would be there to pick you up, and most importantly, it bore witness to some of the greatest nights of our lives.
I think we all have stories about the JR. They are the kinds of stories that linger even though the dust has long since settled on the site we once called home.
When I think about the JR so many things come to mind.
The music
Bands like Raiding Party, Baron, Idol Motion, Jezebel’s Trash and my own personal hysteria that would accompany any appearance by Judge Mercy.
The people – put simply, my friends.
And then there are the small things. Things that will forever remain uniquely tied to those nights. The sticky carpet, graffitied band room, worn out lounges, pebbled stairs in the village next door and the infamous wooden sleeper out the front.
For me, the JR was more than a club, and the memories I have are stronger than simple anecdotes. They built the foundation of who I would later become.
A simple gesture, the offer to buy a drink that inevitably allowed two people to form a friendship that would last long after the doors closed. The lesson he taught me, revered now, that the ones who love you always hurt you the most, and the belief he had in me when I had not been able to find it for myself.
But we all have our memories. We all had our nights.
It seems almost fitting now to know that it’s gone, because in many ways so are we. For most of us, the labels that once resonated have changed. They’ve grown into new words like mum, dad, husband and wife. These are the labels we now wear with pride and if it was still there, lingering like a spectre, we may be fooled into thinking those days were better than the ones we live now. But that wouldn’t be true. Yes, they were great and yes I do miss them, but would I want to be 20 again? Hell, no!
We are lucky, blessed even, to have the memories we do and despite the lines starting to appear around my eyes, I can recall with joy how each one was formed.
Every laugh, every smile, every tear.
The JR was a chapter, a verse perhaps, in the songbook of our lives and it was a great one; maybe even my favourite.
And while I wouldn’t trade my now for yesterday, it would certainly be great to see you all again.
The JR reunion will be held at Honeysuckle Hotel on Sunday 16th October from 2pm – 6pm and feature the music of DV8, Flashback, Roadhouse and Idol Motion.
