Read How Soon is Now?: The Madmen and Mavericks who made Independent Music 1975-2005 for Free Online Page B

today.
    Along with Chelsea’s Lots Road and the avenues of squats in north Kensington which were home to many of the people affiliated to Rough Trade, London’s East End remained one of the undeveloped areas of the capital. It contained London’s highest density of post-war council rehousing, which had been built alongside semi-demolished terraces that were now derelict.
    ‘It was a very charged atmosphere much of the time; Hackney was a strange place then, nothing like it is now,’ remembers Chris Carter. ‘There was still a strong racial tension then, that and skinheads and gay bashing. East London was still finding itself and didn’t have a specific vibe, unlike, say, north London, which was always more chilled out and liberal. You really did take your life in your hands if you went out alone at night in some areas.’
    Carter was a teenage long-hair with a deep love of kosmische electronics, who first visited the studio of COUM Transmissions on Martello Street in Hackney in February 1978, at the invitation of its founders, Genesis P-Orridge and Cosey Fanni Tutti. ‘It’s funny, because when Gen and Cosey first introduced themselves to me they just seemed like a couple of colourful hippies with a lot of mad ideas,’ he says. ‘Even though we were obviously from quite different musical backgrounds, within hours we discovered all these shared interests and points of reference and really bonded.’
    The difference in backgrounds between Carter and his new friends was pronounced. Carter was a shy bedroom engineer who had done lighting for Tangerine Dream and was sufficientlydexterous with a circuit board to build his own synths. Tutti and P-Orridge were performance artists who had decided to explore music as part of their practice. To the technologically astute Carter, it looked as if they needed some help. He recalls, ‘They invited me to their studio in Martello Street. They were playing with all these half-working, broken-down and borrowed instruments: guitars, drums, keyboards – some things were home-made and many were on the verge of self-destruction. And there was Day-Glo paint everywhere. It took me days before I could take them seriously; I thought I’d come across some offshoot of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band.’
    Tutti and her partner P-Orridge had formed COUM Transmissions during the swell of the early Seventies performance art movement, rising through provincial beginnings in their native Hull to appearing at the Venice Biennale. Joining the duo and Carter was Pete ‘Sleazy’ Christopherson, a freelance sleeve and graphic designer whose clients included Hipgnosis, the iconic design studio who framed progressive rock in witty, often photographic-based, abstractions that complemented the self-consciously complex music contained in the record covers to perfection. This was the basis for the project Carter, Christopherson, Tutti and P-Orridge undertook together: Throbbing Gristle.
    ‘Sleazy’s work with Hipgnosis, and his knowledge of layouts, printing, photography and so on was a real asset,’ says Tutti ‘because we had at our fingertips first-hand knowledge of all these techniques used by the industry. He put together the finished art works, knew about printing methods and the best printers to use. Between the four of us we had everything necessary to be TG and run a label.’ The Industrial Records/Throbbing Gristle quartet had a unique skill set which allowed the label to have a distinct modus operandi, one which had thelingering air of analysis and enquiry, and of a risk-taking avant-garde sensibility.
    ‘Chris’s technical ability was the key, really,’ says Tutti. ‘He did the final production and mastering on all TG releases.’ Carter’s hands-on ability as an engineer, along with Christopherson’s knowledge of design ensured Industrial releases had an incredible attention to detail.
    Industrial’s sleeves had the clarity and authority of Hipgnosis, but in a monochrome, austere