So It Started There: From Punk to Pulp chronicles the life and career of drummer Nick Banks, telling the story of how he came to be in one of the UK’s most iconic bands. Ahead of his appearance at Off the Shelf, Nick spoke to Joe Food about the experience of opening up on his past, Pulp’s painstakingly slow rise to fame and how a pesky bulldog almost ruined his big shot!
Let’s start with the process itself. How did you find writing a memoir?
I found the process not too painful, really. I didn’t have a deadline to work to, which always helps in that respect! In the first half, I mostly talk about my life and personal development, which is pretty easy as you’re just talking about yourself. However, once Pulp comes into the equation, you’ve got to think about all of these things happening at the same time and to different people. I found myself really delving into the inner reaches, the dusty cupboards of my mind, to tease out some of those stories.
I basically set out to create a timeline. I’d write a section then maybe leave it for a while, take the dog out for a walk, and as things were whirring around my mind, I’d eventually remember where to head next.
And what spurred you on to do it in the first place?
It was written during the Covid lockdown. So, as many of us were, I was looking for a project. But also, within my family, we’ve got some books that some members have written about their lives, family story books to be handed down to kids. It seemed like a good idea to get my story down while I still had my marbles.
So, that’s how it began. Then, before you know it, you’re 400-odd pages in and begin thinking that maybe there will be people out there interested in my daft anecdotes and what happened during the Pulp years.
“I found myself really delving into the inner reaches, the dusty cupboards of my mind, to tease out some of those stories.”
Has revisiting the past, or certain parts of it at least, gleaned any surprises or fresh perspectives?
I think there were a few things, like realising just how many times Pulp was floundering and came close to falling through the cracks. We were very close to dissolving away, as so many bands do, and I suppose looking back you realise how vulnerable we were to that. But I suppose that’s also the appeal of the story: the idea that Pulp fought through that period and giving up wasn’t an option.
The title references your journey from punk to pop. Could you talk a bit about your early music awakenings and how they shifted over the years?
A lot of people see their discovery of punk rock as Year Zero, the year everything changed. Before that, around the mid-70s, I was still getting a feel for the music out there. Mum would have the radio blaring out of the kitchen and the whole family would sit together and watch Top of the Pops. As a ten or eleven-year-old lad, I’d see people going nuts for bands like The Bay City Rollers and start to develop an opinion about the music on show. It might just be, “Ooh, that Lynsey de Paul looks nice” – but, you know, it was a start.
Once I got a bit older, around 1978, it was time to decide which tribe I was going to be in. The new stuff on the block appealed to me, and when punk rock came along, it was genuinely exciting. It kind of found me in that sense.
You grew up in Rotherham. Was it then a case of jumping on a bus to Sheffield for gigs and the local music scene?
That’s right, the 287 bus from Maltby to Sheffield. The first gig I went to was to see The Damned at what was Top Rank, around 1979, so I would’ve been about 15 years old. A load of us got tickets and started to worry slightly when we saw the doormen and over-18 signs. We devised a strategy to push Graham, the punkiest looking one, to the front so he’d get waved through and we’d funnel in behind. As he got to the front, the bouncer asked him what school he went to and, perhaps feeling a bit nervous, he immediately answered “Oakwood.” As he got pulled out of the queue, we were able to shuffle in through the door undetected. You had to take your chances in those days. Thanks, Graham!
“We were very close to dissolving away, as so many bands do, and I suppose looking back you realise how vulnerable we were to that. But I suppose that’s also the appeal of the story: the idea that Pulp fought through that period and giving up wasn’t an option.”
When did you go from a music fan to a drummer?
It might sound a bit cliché, but it genuinely was a case of a few lads around a school desk at dinnertime deciding to form a band. We took that conceptual leap from being mates to being in a band – no instruments or owt, of course. Eventually, once that’s settled, you go to the next conceptual leap of deciding whether you should bother getting instruments and actually learning them.
I started out on bass. My guitar broke after about six weeks, though. My brother had a drum kit and didn’t really take to it, so I spent some time on it and realised I could play. Things moved on quickly from there.
Fast forward slightly to that sliding doors moment: an ad placed by Pulp in the Sheffield Star putting the call out for a drummer. I’ve heard that the audition involved a white bulldog?
Apparently, there was an ad in the paper, yeah, but I’d seen a note stuck on the wall in the Leadmill. Pulp were already my favourite band on the local scene, so I had to go for it.
I’m not sure I’d call it an ‘audition’, however. I went to the Pulp practice room up at Intake, which was Jarvis’ grandma’s garage, and as I knocked on the door I could hear some right commotion going on. The door opened a crack and Jarvis grabs me by my collar and pulls me into the kitchen, where I could see a white bulldog going ape shit, and at the other side of the kitchen door, there’s another dog going equally crackers. Jarvis told me that this white bulldog had followed him home and I had to help him get rid of it. So, we ended up walking around the streets of Intake with this bulldog, hoping it would get bored and go back to its house. We couldn’t get rid of it, so in the end we had to press the nuclear option, which was picking the dog up and putting it behind someone’s garden gate before legging it. We got back to the house, Jarvis checked his watch and said, “Me grandma’s got tea on now, so…” and that was that. It was over. We did eventually try out playing some music together and the rest, as they say, is history!
You joined Pulp in the late 80s, and I guess the big boom for the band, where things really took off, was early-to-mid 90s following His N Hers.
Yeah, we rattled on with little success until around ’91, when the almost imperceptible green shoots of success started coming through, and the slow climb continued until 94/95 when it all went a bit crazy.
Apparently, there was an ad in the paper, yeah, but I’d seen a note stuck on the wall in the Leadmill. Pulp were already my favourite band on the local scene, so I had to go for it.
On reflection, how do you think you handled that first dose of fame?
I’d like to think with a level head! I suppose because it happened so gradually, I didn’t notice it as much, a bit like the frog being boiled in water, you know? It wasn’t like we were practicing in a garage in Intake and then playing Top of the Pops the next day.
Of course, if you’d offered us overnight success rather than rattling about for years, I’m sure we would’ve taken it! However, you can look back and be proud of how we kept on battling – sheer South Yorkshire bloody-mindedness, that’s what it was!
What, if anything, do you hope readers will take away from this memoir, both in terms of understanding Pulp’s story and your personal journey?
Mostly that I’m a brilliant, handsome, talented chap… [Laughs] Honestly, I think when you read an autobiography you don’t want to be bored. You want to be entertained and educated, so that’s the main aim. Hopefully, people see it as a story worth telling: about Sheffield in the 80s, about Pulp’s slow rise to national consciousness, and what happens to bands and musicians afterwards.
So It Started There: From Punk to Pulp is out now through Omnibus Press. Nick will appear at Off the Shelf Festival on 19 October at Crookes Social Club to discuss his memoir. More info at offtheshelf.org.uk
