The Ron Chatman Experience of Skateboard Decks

I love skateboards, probably because they were so rare when I first started skating. My pre-teenage life in the small Scottish town of Carnoustie didn't offer much opportunity to visit skate shops, but I could get skate magazines and would spend hours intensely scrutinizing the products, particularly the decks. I would ascribe them characteristics relative to my own skateboarding ability, and convince myself that a certain board would help me skate in a certain way. This is true, but in my mind the link between my board and my own capability remains ridiculously exaggerated.

I was obsessed with the boards of other skaters. I was fascinated by the inscrutable griptape graffiti on the decks of the older guys I'd see in Dundee: Factory Sensibles; DEVO; ELVIS LIVES arranged in a Dogtown-style cross. What did it all mean? My 12-year-old mind did not know, but I loved it all anyway.

Cease and Desist (C&D) is a company that reproduces classic skateboard decks from the late 1980s/early 90s in limited runs. They've reissued a lot of the SMA World Industries and Blind decks from around this time, many of which have graphics by Marc McKee. These decks are so evocative of that era and all that was exciting about it: the move towards double-kick boards as street skating started to realise its potential; the unique shape of every professional skateboarder's pro-model deck, redolent of their skating style; the exclusivity of skating, which was then an entirely niche subculture far removed from the sportified athletic activity it has been wrenched into today. Most of all, it reminds me of a time I was completely wrapped up in skating, when I could learn a new trick every day and ollie so high that my knees would smash into my face.

Some of Marc McKee's graphics for Blind and World Industries in the early 90s

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I recently bought a C&D reissue of the 1990 SMA World Industries Ron Chatman 'Ron Chatman Experience' deck. I will not skate it; it is to hang upon my wall. The graphic is a pastiche of the Jimi Hendrix Experience 'Axis Bold as Love' album art. I remember boards of this era being coated in a heavy gloss lacquer-varnish that is absent here, but it's otherwise an accurate reproduction. Importantly the hue of the woodstain seems authentic to the era. There is something potent in the contrast of the fluorescent screen-printed cartoonish graphic screaming off the stained wood background. I love this effect, and wish it was more prevalent in skateboards today. I hated it when boards went to full-cover graphics - there must be an economic or practical reason for this, as it is aesthetically inferior.

Cease & Desist 2011 Reissue of the 1990 SMA Ron Chatman 'Ron Chatman Experience' deck

Ron Chatman came to Scotland with John Cardiel, Alan Peterson, The Gonz and Salman Agah in 1992. I went to see them skate at Livingston skatepark. I got so hyped watching the skating that I wanted to skate as well, so I left the crowded skatepark to go roll around a nearby carpark. Some of the visiting pros wanted to escape the park as well, because Alan Peterson and Salman Agah showed up and skated with me. I had an H-Street Dan Peterka deck. Salman Agah skated it and said it felt weird, which was a bit of a diss, but I was stoked anyway.

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I still love skateboard decks, and have only just gotten over leaning boards against my bedroom wall in sight of my bed so that they are the last thing I see before I go to sleep (sentimental in my middle years, I now prefer to see my wife). I remain very particular about the decks I skate and I bloody love a nice graphic, which is why I bought one of Alien Workshop's recent Andy Warhol series of decks, a Tyler Bledsoe pro model. I sat it by my fireplace until I was ready to set it up and skate it, but when that time came I decided that I like looking at it so much that I'm now loath to skate it. So I bought another board and it remains by my fireplace, unskated, where I think it will stay. It looks nice, yes?

Alien Workshop Tyler Bledsoe from Andy Warhol series

Malvern Star Skidstar Bicycle Restoration Project

A couple of years ago I bought a late 1960s Malvern Star Skidstar bicycle with a view to restoring it. It was my first attempt at rebuilding a bicycle, and I decided to restore it to an appearance of my choosing, rather than strive to recreate the original appearance.

unrestored Skidstar

I stripped and sanded the frame down to the bare metal, laid down a coat of primer spray-paint, then spray-painted with a matte ivory (creamy off-white) finish. The paint has since chipped a little bit; next time I'll use a powder-coating. The mudguards are Velo Orange US imports. These have been a touch problematic too, as I can't achieve enough rigidity in the forward section of the front mudguard to avoid it rattling as I ride. Cottered crankset and bottom bracket have been replaced, pedals are original, new sprung leather saddle, new Schwinn stitched leather handlebar grips. The handelbars themselves were salvaged from another bike, and have a bit of chrome peeling/blistering. 

I fitted a nice leather chain guard, and I kept the original Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub gear, fortunately still in fine working corder, fitting new cables and shifter. Hub-geared 3-speed bikes are just the ticket for commuting - I loved riding my Raleigh around London. They'll allow you to climb a decent hill and steam down the other side, they have no unsightly and greasy derailleur, but none of the restrictions of a single-speed.

The original Altenburger Synchron dual-pivot calipers look great, but they don't work brilliantly. I had to remove some perished plastic pivot bushings from them and bodge replacements. 

The  wheels were heavily rusted - the front wheel is an alloy replacement, rear wheel is a problematic original - the steel rim is indented, I guess the idea being that it would bite into the brake pad and skid (hey, it's a Skidstar!), but the actual effect is that it eats brake pads very quickly, consequently the braking is weak.

 

The restoration was an intense and frustrating process, but I learned a lot from it. I love the bike so much that I named it - I call it Barlow, after Lou from Dinosaur Jr and Sebadoh. But the project also exposed the limitations of an amateur restoration without a dedicated workshop, extensive toolkit, or expansive budget. I've reached the limit of what I can do with it, and the rattling front mudguard and brake/rim issue prevent everyday enjoyment of the bike.

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I have a road bike with panniers that I use for work and chores most days, so old Barlow has been indoors for the past year, only out for occasional slow cruises. When I do take it out it attracts a lot of jealous glances. It is a beauty.

 

I've decided to sell the bike on Ebay and maybe scratch back some of the money I've thrown at it. I can't afford to have a barely-used bike taking up space, and it's time to say goodbye to Barlow, the gorgeous and frustrating old thing.

Briscoe.

It is a new(ish) year, and I have decided to start a new blog under a new name, which is Big Wow. There were a few other blogs called Terminal Moraine (the name of my previous blog), so I opted to remove myself from that crowded marketplace, and Big Wow reflects the diminished expectations I have about creating and sustaining a readership."Big Wow" was a sarcastic phrase used to shatter enthusiasm in the playgrounds of my youth, and it may articulate the sentiment that forms in the mind of the reader as they alight upon another fucking blog.

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My friend Bart Denaro has a band. They are called Briscoe, and they are great. They have recorded an album, which is not yet released, but my wife's in the band so I have heard it, and I will let you in on a secret - it's brilliant. I love them so much I wrote their name on the griptape of my new board.

Briscoe played their first gig at the Lansdowne Hotel in January, and they smashed it. I was all a-tingle with goosebumps. My objectivity is out of the window with this band, and I can't help but feel excited about them. Early reviews on Triple J Unearthed and some blogs have been very positive, which reassures me that my critical faculties have not been entirely clouded by the affection I have for these guys.

My impartiality is further compromised by my involvement with the music video clip for Briscoe's debut single, Animal. Bart directed Dee, who is the star, and me, who held the camera, and the result should be playable below:

I think it turned out well, and we had a good time making it. Here is an outtake featuring Briscoe bass boss Dave Anderson and Bonnie, who is a dog and a very good girl.

Briscoe are playing Sydney, Canberra and Newcastle to launch the single - the details are here.