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Hulme

exhulme

About Me

Hulme Is Where The Heart IsIt's 1989 and everyone is off their tits on E listening to Acid House, the Mondays and the Roses. The Hacienda might be banging, but John Robb says the real action is taking place in The Kitchen, a club made from three box flats knocked together on a Hulme council estate...
1989 and Manchester is the scene.The clubs are full of either acid house or Roses and Mondays anthems. Every night is a party night and drugs are fuelling the scene. Suddenly everyone is 'on one' and looking baggier (and saggier). No-one seems to get to bed until daylight. It's an endless rat run - blagging guest lists and partying. Good times.The real epicentre of this bacchanalian action is not the Hacienda though, the real raw beat central is just down the road from the legendary club, in the concrete wasteland of the council high rise of Hulme.Rebuilt in the sixties after the biggest demolition in Europe, Hulme is a collection of flats and rat runs built around the notorious crescent flats.
By the early seventies it had swiftly developed into an area of cheap housing for students and skint outsiders. By the mid-eighties it had become a squat central with dog shit and post punk idealism everywhere, full of boarded-up flats and great parties, everything covered in graffiti - from ornate murals to the anarchy symbol, to half crazed magic mushroom inspired slogans; it was a wonderful lunatic place to live.
It seemed like every band in the city had done time there, the cops left it alone and the pubs were full of drugs. It was a magnet for every crazy, every loon, every counterculture inclined freak in the north of England and beyond.By the time of acid house the structure of the area had totally decayed and it was a boom time for the party mob. Before house music became the staple of wine bars and overpriced DJs, it was the soundtrack to wild squat parties and guerrilla clubs just setting up where the fuck they liked.Hulme was perfect for this. A concrete wilderness with no control, a virtually independent freak scene run by the freaks for the freaks. No wonder it got a little crazy in there.On a Saturday night when you finally went to bed you could hear the boom-boom-boom of loads of sound systems blasting out from all over the estate. The epicentre of all the action was a club called The Kitchen. Three flats way up on the third floor of the Crescents, which had been knocked clumsily with a pick axe into one super-squat-club.The Kitchen was box flats three stories high in the middle of a concrete wilderness - the real heart of Manchester acid house culture. It may have been a ten minute walk from the Hacienda but it may as well have been a million miles away.In the Kitchen was minimum lighting. Want a bigger club? Well get a big fucking hammer and knock the walls through to next door... and that's what they did.There was a massive sound system in the front room - the downstairs kitchen had been turned into a bar selling Red Stripe, and the whole block seemed to ooze spliff. Not that it matters because every one is E'd up - gonzoid-eyed and scrunched-up faces leering into the dark haze. Careful as you wander around that staircase that sort of goes to the second floor.
The wall joining the flats together had been removed and the floor seemed to have gone as well. There were a couple light bulbs as well blinking in the murk.The music is booming acid house circa 1989, you can hear it all over the estate - it's like a beacon to every leering crazy in town and the glass strewn car park is chokka full of beat-up cars arriving through the night from all over the north of England. A couple of years in and there are already acid house veterans; crevasse faced all night people with tales to tell. Here?s one car load just back from the Blackburn all-nighters, giving the cops the slip and chasing the music all over the beaten up ex-cotton towns of mid Lancs. A whole bunch of heads have just arrived from The Hacienda, a ten minute walk down the road, cutting through the dimly lit subways and the gonzoid graffiti, and up the piss-stained flights of stairs in the feral Hulme crescents to the Kitchen party. They're looking for a 48-hour rave and are dancing around like loons, and they've not even got into the party yet.The corridor outside the flat is full of the sort of people who curse daylight, milling about buying drugs, popping E's or just doing Bez style bug eyed dancing on their own in small circles - oblivious to the music - oblivious to everything apart from the tactile pulse of the ecstasy.The cops don't come here. The cops haven't come here for years. This is a no go zone.

A party central. A concrete maze perfect for crime and even better for mental parties run under their own rules. "Leave 'em to it" sniff the local cops who prefer to stay in their concrete fortress station just up the road. The whole area is full of travellers' buses, dogs-on-a-rope types, junkies, squatters, freaks, outsiders - its also full of ex-cons, muggers and mini gangsters, but you can't have everything can you? In the summer it feels like the last stand of the party culture - a never ending chemical high in the winter- and it dies off as everyone drifts into smack and starts moaning about the weather. For a couple of glorious summers though, it was the real acid house party in Manchester, when the whole area seemed to pulse to the ghetto BPM and party like one mad shitfaced bastard.Of course it couldn't last and the bulldozers moved in in the mid nineties - these days it's all yuppie flats and wine bars full of shaven-headed thugs; the party is pretty well over even though some of the freaks remain.The days when Hulme M15 was a byword for party action are long gone. The yuppie scum have pushed up the house prices and the Hulme soundtrack is more likley to be Dido than mad crazy drug music. Welcome to the 21st century.JOHN ROBB

My Interests



Hulme (pronounced hyoom) is an ex-industrial suburb to the south of the City of Manchester, England. It is known chiefly for its social and economic decline in the 1960s, 70s and 80s, and its subsequent redevelopment in the 1990s, as part of one of Europe's biggest urban regeneration projects.The area received its name from the Danish expression for a small island surrounded by water or marshland which, in fact, it probably was when it was first settled by Norse invaders from Scandinavia. It was evidenced as a separate community south of the River Medlock from Manchester in 15th century map prints.Until the 18th century it remained a solely a farming area, and pictures from the time show an idyllic scene of crops, sunshine and country life. The area remained entirely rural until the Bridgewater Canal was cut and the Industrial Revolution swept economic change through the neighbouring district of Castlefield where the Dukes' canal terminated, and containerised transportation of coal and goods rose as an industry to support the growing textile industries of Manchester. It was this supply of cheap coal from the Dukes' mines at Worsley that allowed the textile industry of Manchester to grow.The Industrial Revolution eventually brought development to the area, and jobs to the urban poor in Hulme carrying coal from the 'Starvationer' (very narrow canal boats), to be carted off along Deansgate.Many factories (known locally as mills) and a railway link to Hulme soon followed, and thousands of people came to work in the rapidly expanding mills in the city. Housing therefore had to be built rapidly, and space was limited. Hulme's growth in many ways was a "victim of its' own success", with hastily built, low-quality housing interspersed with the myriad smoking chimneys of the mills and the railway, resulting in an extremely low quality of life for residents. Reports of the time suggest that even in an extremely residential area such as Hulme, at times air quality became so low that poisonous fumes and smoke literally "blocked out the sun" for long periods.The number of people living in Hulme went up 50-fold in the first half of the 19th century and the rapid building of housing to accommodate the population explosion meant the living conditions were of extremely low standard, with sanitation non-existent and rampant spread of disease.By 1844, the situation had grown so serious that Manchester Borough Council (now Manchester City Council) had to pass a law banning further building. However, the thousands of "slum" homes that were already built continued to be lived in, and many were still in use into the first half of the 20th century.

In 1904, two businessmen known as Henry Royce and Charles Stewart Rolls created a business partnership after meeting at Manchester's Midland Hotel and decided to start to build their own versions of the relatively new invention of the motor car - and chose Hulme for their first Rolls-Royce factory, though moving to Derby shortly afterwards.Many street names in the current Hulme commemorate this little piece of history, such as Royce Road and Rolls Crescent, though the Royce public house, a popular drinking establishment with a distinctive ceramic historical 'mural' was razed for the creation of modern flats, in the 1990s regeneration of Hulme.At the end of World War II, Britain had a dramatically high need for quality housing, with a rapidly increasing "baby boomer" population increasingly becoming unhappy with the prewar and wartime "austerity" of their lives, and indeed, their living space.By the start of the 1960s England had begun to remove many of the 19th century 'slums' and consequently, most of the slum areas of Hulme were demolished. The modernist and brutalist architectural style of the period, as well as practicalities of speed and cost of construction dictated high rise "modular" living in tower blocks and "cities in the sky" consisting of deck-access apartments and terraces.

In Hulme, a new and (at the time) innovative design for deck access and tower living was attempted, whereby curved rows of low-rise flats with deck access far above the streets was created, known as the 'Crescents' (which were, ironically, architecturally based on terraced housing in Bath). In this arrangement, motor vehicles remained on ground level with pedestrians on concrete walkways overhead, above the smoke and fumes of the street.High-density housing was balanced with large green spaces and trees below, and the pedestrian had priority on the ground over cars. At the time, the 'Crescents' won several design awards and had some notable first occupants, such as Nico and Alain Delon.However, what eventually turned out be recognised as poor design, workmanship, and maintenance meant that the crescents introduced their own problems. Design flaws and unreliable "system build" construction methods, as well as the 1970s Oil Crisis meant that heating the poorly insulated homes became too expensive for its low income residents, and the crescents soon became notorious for being cold, damp and riddled with cockroaches and other vermin.Beginnings of Urban DeclineReports from local residents of the period also suggest that at this time, a combination of increasing economic hardship, poor maintenance and the Housing Act meant that many tenants who had maintained a sense of civic pride in the area left, as standards went into free fall as a result of the Act. The auspices of the Act allowed anyone claiming state benefits the right to a Council home. As a result, the now notoriously unpopular properties became a "dumping ground" for many of the city's poorest, most deprived, and indeed, anti-social members of society.



As a result, rates of drug addiction and crime soared in the neighbourhood.Local reports suggest that the City Council at one point almost completely lost control of the properties on the estate, and was reduced to handing out keys to properties to anyone who would take them, in order to ensure the use of empty properties. This resulted in a "black market" exchange of properties between squatters, eliminating any possibility of meaningful management of the properties by the council.Local commentators noted that the "neighbourliness" of the previously cramped housing conditions had been eliminated, and due to the "impersonality" of the crescent development any local "sense of community" had also been eliminated. An eventual overspill, and the need for quality housing of the existing communities, meant that large numbers of families were relocated across Greater Manchester, though a many were sent to Wythenshawe, a large "overspill" estate.

In the 1970s many punks, musicians and artists took advantage of the cheap urban housing available in Hulme, and the area became homes to an increasing number of nurses, students and other single people, as families increasingly moved out.The rise of youth culture on the estate made it a very lively place, and a club on Royce Road called The Russell Club which was owned and run by Factory Records and featured the first ever performance of Joy Division, A Certain Ratio and other bands that would eventually become household names, such as Iggy Pop.

Reports from locals suggest that however hard edged the neighbourhood seemed, residents appreciated the extensive creative mix that had settled in the neighbourhood. However, the problems of social and economic decline still continued.The large squatting community set up community newsletters, pirate radio stations, music and firework celebrations, and created a cultural vibrancy about the neighbourhood.

Hulme - The Late Show

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The Nautilus or the naughtybus as it was known was built over a 3 month period using a sherpa van, wood, steel and a lot of hardwork to turn it into this 25ft long ship, the Nautilus was fully functional but was sadly firebombed by local hoodlums, very few photos of it exist completed. Below is a photo of it flying about on Bonsall Street grass.

Hulme Pheonix

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Ex-residents also suggest that the community also tried to prevent the City council's destruction of various community assets including the Victorian Turkish baths, and the independent local cinema. The area is seen by many as the powerhouse behind the Manchester music and creative scenes of the eighties, that in turn created a profound influence on the UK and World music and cultural scene.Unfortunately, the lawlessness and lack of community cohesion that went with the change in demographics in the area, meant that it was a no-go area for most outside observers.1980s increase in rate of declineAn increasing drugs, violent crime and prostitution problem in the area stretching on into the 1980s made Hulme increasingly dangerous. Racial and Social tensions in the area culminated in race riots involving the SLP and local youths.Various government initiatives, focused around the nearby Moss Side District Centre, attempted to promote economic growth through job provision, but were deemed by most as unsuccessful. Unemployment remained very high in the neighbourhood, and local residents note that "just saying you were from Hulme or Moss Side gave you a great disadvantage when job hunting. You could not get credit easily either with a Hulme postcode."

I'd like to meet:

From 1992 - 1998 kElzO and associates covered all the Hulme estates with graffiti turning the area into one of the biggest outdoor graffiti art galleries in the world.

Bark Walk

Otterburn Close

Scarf Walk

Hodder Square

aRtTouRs

My Blog

Hulme website !

If anyone has any photos of the old Hulme that they would like to share then send them to [email protected] view Hulme in more detail then check www.eXhuLme.co.ukWe are moving the site to a new ser...
Posted by Hulme on Thu, 15 Feb 2007 09:03:00 PST