Graham Clark’s story moves through some of the most creative corners of Manchester’s music history — from late-1970s experiments with Graham Massey to the improvisational roots behind bands like Danny & The Dressmakers, Biting Tongues, and later 808 State.
His journey is a reminder that the city’s culture wasn’t only shaped by the famous names, but by people quietly pushing boundaries in basements, back rooms, and makeshift rehearsal spaces.
Graham’s first band formed in 1977 — an experimental outfit called Aqua. He remembers seeing a strange lad in patched jeans and a deerstalker hat at Gong gigs, who later turned up at rehearsal with a homemade percussion instrument built from coat racks, cans of dried peas, and hubcaps.
That lad was Graham Massey.
Their early gigs — including three shows on Silver Jubilee Day — were loud, raw, and anarchic. Some venues struggled with the volume and unpredictability, but inside the chaos was something important: freedom. Experimentation wasn’t a side effect — it was the whole point. As Graham puts it, “a racket” wasn’t an insult.
From there, he entered a world where improvised noise, home-built instruments, and outsider thinking were the norm. He recalls connections with Here & Now’s drummer Kif Kif Le Batteur, and the earliest versions of Biting Tongues.
University took Graham to Brighton, where he shifted from prog-rock violinist to jazz improviser — playing pubs, learning by listening, and absorbing everything around him. This mix of jazz discipline and experimental spirit eventually led him somewhere unexpected: into Gong itself.
Growing up, Graham adored Gong — but by the time he became a professional musician, the band he loved no longer really existed. Then, in 1988, a chance meeting with founder Daevid Allen opened the door to a 25-year partnership. A missed gig due to a family funeral nearly derailed it, but Allen simply said, “There’ll be another one.” And there was.
Graham went on to perform with Invisible Opera Company, Gong Maison, and eventually Gong, alongside original members Didier Malherbe and Pip Pyle.
Later, returning to Manchester after his mother’s death, he reconnected with the city through the Northern Quarter — Night & Day, Dry Bar, The Boardwalk, Matt & Phreds, Band on the Wall — playing jazz jams, meeting musicians, and becoming part of its musical DNA once again.
His reflections on Bryan Glancy — the quietly magnetic songwriter loved by Elbow and the wider Manchester scene — are especially moving. Bryan didn’t need to do anything to seem iconic. He just was.
This interview is a deep dive into experimentation, improvisation, community, grief, humour — and how music threads people together across decades.
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