‘Total Stranger: The Unseen Photographs of Pete Burns and Dead or Alive 1979-1983 by Francesco Mellina.’ Featuring an introduction by Paul Du Noyer. Published by March Design www.march-design.co.uk
I didn’t expect to feel quite as emotional as I did after receiving an advance copy of ‘Total Stranger’ but the pull to one’s hometown, in this case, Liverpool, is like an invisible umbilical cord no matter how far away you might find yourself. Originally from Calabria, Francesco Mellina relocated to Merseyside seeking a cultural connection. He found it as a photographer immersed in Liverpool’s vibrant post punk music scene. I got to know Francesco whilst in my early twenties as he was dating a friend of mine. It was easy for world’s to collide in Liverpool as it is a relatively small place as far as those plugged into certain strands of music. I had already briefly encountered Pete Burns, how, when & where obscured by time although I think it was at a one-off screening of Andy Warhol’s ‘Bad’ at a seedy sex cinema that occasionally dabbled with the outré and underground. Even then, glimpsed in the briefest instance, Pete appeared unearthly yet grounded by a tendency to be mouth almighty, his deep voice with a sarcastic scouse lilt reverberating around the cinema’s blood red and gilt lobby. Francesco meanwhile was honing his craft, documenting visiting bands as well as home-grown talent. It was under these auspices that Mellina cast Burns who he found ‘fascinating’ as his muse.
‘Total Stranger’ captures Pete as an exotic ingénue at the commencement of his quest not for fame but to be recognised as an extraordinary being. With Mellina’s encouragement, Pete Burns learned not just how to pose and pout but to relax in front of the camera. The innocence and camaraderie of his first band, ‘Nightmares in Wax’ is apparent from some of the earliest photographs in ‘Total Stranger.’ Off camera however, Pete was a little frustrated by ‘Nightmares’ progress. Although Burns was always a riveting presence on stage, then in his ‘Hiawatha’ phase, all fringes, face paint, buckskin and moccasins, the dirge like quality of the songs may have had something to do with the band stalling. I had caught their inaugural gig at Eric’s Club, then the epicentre of everything new that Liverpool had to offer as a venue. Not long after, Pete took his frustration out on Generation X when they played Eric’s, riding on the crest of a successful 45 ‘King Rocker.’ Almost as soon as they stepped out on stage Pete started throwing bottles at them and heckling, although he made it seem like a lark. Clearly Burns was peeved not just by how pretty Gen X were but by their chart prominence. I wish I could recall when Pete began another metamorphosis. A dark butterfly, he was always in a continuous state of evolution as ‘Total Stranger’ attests. The black contact lenses which filled the entirety of Pete’s eyes was a stark contrast from Generation X’s multi-hued rock n’ roll palette.Whether it is true or not, Pete told me that he’d got the lenses from the man who designed them for the demonic dogs in ‘The Omen’. The lenses hurt after a few hours but it was apparently worth the pain as the effect was both mesmerising and terrifying.
The major transition in Pete Burn’s trajectory as a performer from ‘Nightmares in Wax’ to ‘Dead or Alive’ is deftly documented by Francesco’s photographs of the band in the sand dunes of Hale Beach. There is a certainty to the images of Dead or Alive as a cohesive unit primed for success. By this juncture, Burns had already asked Francesco if he would be their manager. The unusual familiarity between Mellina and Pete allowed for more candid pictures than in Burn’s post Liverpool years, where he is a fantastic unyielding creature rather than a preternatural individual connecting with the camera and his band mates. Looking at the images I was reminded of how bleak Liverpool was then but also inspiring, as if the chill salt breath of the Mersey was sweeping everything along at a rapid pace. Pete Burns was like no other and although he could be vicious in his repartee he could also be kindly and funny. When I turned up for a gig 7 months pregnant, he loudly proclaimed ‘You’re not going to have it here are you!?’ whilst getting me a chair to sit on. Similarly when my daughter Severina was born, he arrived unexpectedly with a bottle of wine to toast her arrival. Wayne Hussey, the guitarist in Dead Or Alive was by then rooming in the house where myself and my ex – husband, cartoonist and Byron about town, Kris Guidio, lived. Everything in those far off daze seemed to move too quickly on to the next episode. There was a free Dead or Alive gig in Liverpool city centre attended by thousands. Was this their swan song before departing for London? Francesco got them a major record deal but then was ousted which is often the way when bands get their big break. After telling me he’d had enough of discussions about leather jock-straps Wayne Hussey defected to what would become The Sisters of Mercy.
The irony of this wonderful book is that Francesco Mellina didn’t really want to be a manager and Pete Burns didn’t want to be a mere popstar. Burns never could have been a ‘mere’ anything. Life was too small for him and his restless fantasies too great. Of all the photographs in ‘Total Stranger’, the sweeter side of Pete Burns is in evidence in the photo shoot of him and his wife, Lynne. There is a tenderness in his features which was never again replicated as the pursuit of plastic surgery consumed him.
Thank you to Paul Du Noyer.
Nina Antonia 