How Liam Maher from Flowered Up changed my life
Before their single Weekender became an anthem for hedonists, Flowered Up inspired me to put on my first ever gig
Thinking about it now, I owe my career to Liam Maher, the frontman of Flowered Up who died yesterday.
Back in 1990 I was just another a teenager in thrall of the music press itching to leave my hometown of Newport. There were no clubs in South Wales playing acid house or its low-slung rock’n’roll counterpart, “baggy” (not yet a term of derision). Flowered Up were part of that new breed. They had graced the cover of the Melody Maker before releasing a note. They embraced a club culture that seemed utterly vital from my voyeuristic standpoint on the wrong side of the Severn Bridge. I put a call in to Flowered Up’s record label – Heavenly Recordings – and asked whether I could book them to play “the legendary TJ’s”. I had never promoted a gig before – I didn’t even know what a rider was. With a float that I’d cobbled together doing summertime odd jobs, I set about learning.
You can read the rest of the story on the Guardian website:
& here’s the last recording the band made for Heavenly back in 1994, a fitting way for Liam to be remembered