Manchester was a crucible for UK music in the wake of punk rock. Joy Division, Buzzcocks and The Fall were just a few of the key bands to emerge in 1976-77, inspired by the Sex Pistols’ legendary gigs at the city’s Lesser Free Trade Hall. These groups were supported by a cohort of entrepreneurial managers, promoters and producers. Added to this mix were local record labels like Factory, New Hormones and Rabid, and together they helped to define a “Manchester sound”, even though the bands themselves were musically diverse.

But by the very early 1980s, the city had gone off the boil again, with a number of those influential post-punk bands on hiatus. Major names such as The Smiths, James, Happy Mondays and the Stone Roses were not yet established, and “Madchester” was still several years away.

Around the same time, my family moved from the leafy suburbs of south east London to a semi-industrial town about 20km from Manchester. So the city became my second home during my time as a student at Leeds University.

In those far-off, pre-internet days, fanzines were an important source of information (alongside the weekly music papers, New Musical Express, Melody Maker and Sounds). City Fun was a key Manchester publication, and I found myself getting involved as their “Leeds correspondent”. This included writing a few articles, selling copies at gigs and trying to blag free concert tickets under the pretence of writing glowing reviews. (More on that another time….)

The editorial team on City Fun was led by Liz Naylor and Cath Carroll. In September 1982, I went with them to see Nico performing at Manchester’s Band on the Wall. After the gig, Liz, Cath, Richard Boon and myself travelled to the infamous Haçienda nightclub (which had opened just a few months earlier) in a white Ford Escort estate car driven by Howard Devoto.

The Haçienda that night felt like a hangout for off-duty musicians. Mick Hucknall, following the demise of his band the Frantic Elevators, and yet to achieve fame in Simply Red, was sulking on the balcony. Members of A Certain Ratio were propping up the bar. Vini Reilly from The Durutti Column was dancing to David Bowie’s “Fame”. I’d heard that  one of the reasons Howard Devoto was in town was to re-unite with his mate Pete Shelley. Both Buzzcocks, the band Devoto and Shelly formed in 1976, and Magazine, the band Devoto formed after he left Buzzcocks, were on hiatus at the time, so there was a strong suggestion that the pair were going to start recording again. (They did, but not for another 20 years.)

Seizing the moment, I walked up to the bar where my new best friend Howard and his old mate Pete were deep in conversation. In my slightly inebriated state, I tried to insert myself into the discussion, much to the bemusement of both Shelley – who looked at his companion as if to say, “Is he with you?” – and Devoto – who replied with a look of “Don’t blame me!”

Not the finest hour in my annals of rock star encounters.

As a footnote, I met Howard again a few years later, at a house party in London. We got talking, mostly about the pros and cons of being called for jury service. (Knowing his penchant for 19th and 20th century literature, I managed to avoid making any obvious references to Dostoevsky, Kafka or Camus…) If Howard had any memory of our previous encounter, he had to good grace not to bring it up!

Next week: Measuring musical success