Deathblog:
The Montague Arms

Extremely sad news this week about the closure of The Montague Arms in New Cross, following the deaths late last year of Stan and Bet Pownall, who had been co-managing the pub and serving behind the bar since 1967.

Admittedly, this will probably be of limited interest to readers outside South-East London, but the Montague was a unique and frequently wonderful place that I think deserves some sort of tribute here in view of its position as, at its best, about the finest drinking/music establishment I could possibly have imagined.

It was one of the first places I found myself visiting when I was first thinking of moving to London about six or seven years ago, and it’s fair to say I was pretty blown away. Beyond an exterior which frtankly looked pretty unpromising, I found myself in a room that was as much like some idiosyncratic folk museum as a bar, full of looming stuffed animal heads, antique diving apparatus and a full-size Victorian hansom carriage driven by a zebra – all clearly genuine, and clearly acquired long before lesser pubs started routinely adding such ‘quirky’ paraphernalia in a doomed attempt to create character.

The beer was great, and pleasantly affordable, and served by a white-haired gent with a set of droopy dog braces to die for*, who honestly seemed like the friendliest man in the world. The elderly staff and regulars (all depicted in a collection of mystifying, in-joke filled cartoons framed above the bar) seemed to be getting along splendidly with the assorted punks and art student-y types also in attendance, whilst on the stage at one end of the room, a bunch of ropey bands who all sounded a bit like Liars (this was what, around 2005-ish?) belted out their stuff at excruciating volume which somehow didn’t compromise anyone’s ability to hold audible, indoor voice conversations at the other, non-music end of the bar.

I don’t know quite what anyone else’s idea of a perfect night down the pub might be, but that one did quite nicely for me I think.

The most memorable band I ever saw play there was of course the legendary house band, comprising Pete the aforementioned barman on drums and a friend of his on the organ, performing some of the most extraordinary renditions of ‘60s pop hits I’ve heard in my life (imagine two OAPs trying to recreate the bombast of the E Street Band, to give you some idea). I remember going down there for a quiet drink with a friend once, seeing the previously empty pub suddenly full of dancing couples as the two of them wandered on stage and struck up ‘Daydream Believer’ – a beautiful moment, and it brings tears to my eyes just thinking that it will never happen again.

Apparently they put out a couple of LPs in the early ‘70s, under the name The Two Petes – I’d genuinely love to hear them.

In 2009/2010-ish, I spent a year living just down the road from the Montague, and whilst variable opening hours and entry fees for gigs sometimes made it a difficult prospect for a casual beer, the stars did align often enough for me to enjoy a few more great nights there. A lot of pubs put great emphasis on being ‘welcoming’, and most get about halfway, but how many places are there that you could wander down to on your own on a random night, have a few drinks and a chat with whoever’s around, and enjoy a wildly divergent selection of musical acts (I caught nights of stoner rock, skronky avant-jazz and electro-whatever type pop during my infrequent visits, as well as actually playing there once in my own all-too-divergent combo), all whilst feeling completely comfortable and among friends?

I didn’t get a chance to visit much after I moved to the other end of Lewisham Way in 2010, but now it feels like a real privilege to have been able to spend some time at the Montague, and I wish I’d made the effort a bit more often. I’m very sad to see it go.

Plenty of further info, photos and memories over at Transpontine, who have also put together this quick tribute video, featuring The Two Petes performing an utterly astounding take on ‘Macarthur Park’;

*By which I mean actual braces, with the character Droopy the Dog on them, not some kind of weirdness you might be about to look up on urban dictionary…

Labels: bad news, deathblog, The Montague Arms, The Two Petes, venue talk