Legacy is a 6-part mini documentary series (directed by Daniel Alexander) and book (from co-writers Casey Bailey and Jess Munroe) all in collaboration with Punch Records. The synopsis of both the book and the documentary series lies in exploring the untold stories of Birmingham’s grime, hip-hop, and rap scenes. It celebrates the artists who have been responsible for and have influenced the city's Black music scene, allowing new sub-genres and artists to follow in their footsteps.
Ammo Talwar, founder and CEO of Punch Records here talks about Legacy, and his own history of music, in the heart of Birmingham.
Looking Back to Look Forward
Twenty five years ago; where was I? Most likely I was behind the counter at Punch Records; the record shop I had started in Perry Barr, Birmingham back in 1997. Prior to the shop, my childhood was all about electro street sounds like Pac Jam and Wicky Wicky Wicky; Motown and James Brown. My brother Suki was bigger on New Jack Swing and Hip House, bussing tunes like Doug Lazy, Turn Up The Bass, Pump Up The Jam, Fast Eddie and early Teddy Riley. At home, our Punjabi parents always had their Gurbani Sangeet - Sikh hymns - playing on the radio - so we'd missed exposure to the classic Rocksteady or Calypso sounds our friends had already picked up and internalised. To make it easier, yeah that lack was probably what drew me straight to rebel music - Reggae, Hip Hop and Bhangra - and ultimately led me to set up a business where I could legitimately spin records all day long.
I started Punch Records in Perry Barr. (Now, those endz may not be familiar to you; but read on.) Perry Barr is one of our electrifying, unapologetically multicultural and typically British communities. An urban musical mixing desk where the sounds of a big British city can mix up together. In Birmingham’s inner city heartlands the stories are not that different to those in Brixton, St Paul’s, Toxteth or Chapeltown. We had racism, we had oppression - and uprisings in 1981 and 1985. But for me, Birmingham has always had a deeper integration at the grassroots. South Asian, Irish and Jamaican dads and uncles worked side-by-side on the assembly line, turning out British Leyland cars. Moms would feed whoever was in their yard fresh roti, soda bread or jerk chicken. We all played in the same streets and our aunties looked out for everyone. As kids we shared our music - C60 mixtapes; not playlists - and started bands together, inspired by Steel Pulse, UB40 and The Beat. Our generation was one more divided by class than by race or religion.
So Perry Barr is where Handsworth, Aston and Great Barr meet - classic urban Downtown. Punch Records thrived as a hangout for aspiring DJs, musicians and community stalwarts - plus hipsters from the nearby university campus; a drop-in for drop-outs. The Powers That Be always know there's money to be made in Downtown somehow; but they never know quite how to unlock it. So in 2021 Punch Records was demolished along with much of the local neighbourhood to make way for a much-hyped “award-winning athletes village” for the Commonwealth Games. But I was gone by then. In 2004 I'd relocated Punch to Digbeth in the city centre - we'd moved Uptown.
Downtown to Uptown
One definition of "entrepreneur" I like is someone who finds value in something simply by moving it from one place to another. The key to understanding the music revolution in Birmingham is the value that comes out of the creative tension between our contrasting "Uptown" and "Downtown" scenes. For generations, Birmingham has aspired to build a "destination" city centre with world-class civic amenities and an "Uptown" cultural vibe - think London's West End, Chicago's Andersonville or NOLA's Bourbon Street; just with less red carpets and more Baltis. This emphasis on investing in an area of 0.8 square miles has often resulted in the neglect and marginalisation of the communities where people actually live - Downtown. However when no-one - except the police - is watching you; can’t you more-or-less do what you like? From the 70s onwards, multiple different cultural scenes - mostly built around music of Black origin - developed in parallel just a few miles away from each other. Soundsystems in Handsworth, Blues parties in Aston, shabeens in Newtown, warehouse raves in Ladywood. Downtown venues where now-international names and genres gained traction included the Frontline, the Ridgeway, the Tower Ballroom, Parklands, Santa Rosa, Winson Green Community Centre, the Irish Centre, the Crown and Cushion, the Rialto, the Monte Carlo and even Handsworth Library; where Steel Pulse played one of their first gigs.
In Birmingham, the Uptown scene was shaped by one man; Eddie Fewtrell. His clubs famously birthed Duran Duran and the New Romantic scene, but in reality; everything in the Uptown scene happened either because of him or in spite of him. Fewtrell started Bermuda in the 50's, Cedars in the 60's, Barbarella's in the 80's, plus his eponymous "Edward's" clubs - Edwards No 7; Edwards No.8, etc. His clubs brought Hendrix, the Pistols, the Clash, the Ramones and the Buzzcocks to Birmingham (plus the Krays; but, reputedly, he managed to keep them out). Of course - from a working-class family in Aston - "Mr Nightclubs" remained an outsider to the city illuminati. And Fewtrell was genre-agnostic - whatever filled his floors was what his DJ's played. His clubs saw people on the turntable or the mic that others wouldn't have let in through the doors. Event organisers, bar supervisors, door managers and DJs learned their trade in his nighttime empire; and moved out across the city in the 1990s when he sold out to Ansells Brewery.
Back in the day, all of us would take the bus to Brum's Uptown clubs and pubs for our Big Nights Out. Uptown was the only place big enough for Birmingham’s diverse communities to mix - or mass up in huge numbers. Our book, Soho Road to the Punjab, documents how the 1980s Bhangra daytimer scene exploded here; principally at The Powerhouse (more here). Originally the Locarno Ballroom - and a venue for the BBC's Come Dancing - The Powerhouse already had a history of running Soul & Jazz all-dayers, Later, rebranded as Pulse, it would host the legendary Sundissential dance nights.
A generation of early pioneers eventually bridged Uptown and Downtown, crafting a creative ecosystem across the city where artists, DJs and promoters could build their skills and grow their audiences. These included Mambo, Lonny, and Shaun Williams, as well as the legendary Erskine Thompson. Erskine T became a global force, managing Total Contrast, Loose Ends, Maxi Priest, Chaka Demus and Pliers, Carol Thompson, Sly and Robbie and General Levy. Erskine's success helped open doors for many of the British Black music scene's players: Trevor Nelson, Danny D, Tim Blacksmith, Keith Harris and Pete Tong. In particular, props must go to Lloyd Blake, who started out in sound system culture and then went on to open and run The Hummingbird in the 1980s. This was one of the few clubs that could pull in an audience large enough to entice visiting Reggae legends "up country" from London - Garnett Silk, John Holt, Yellow Man, Shabba Ranks and many more. By the 1990's The Hummingbird was hosting club nights like Snapper and Hipnoziz - becoming Birmingham's incubator for the House, Garage and Jungle scene.
021 To 0121
In 1995, Birmingham's area code changed from 021 to 0121. Most people didn't care - and why would they? Adding an extra digit to your phone number really did nothing, except to annoy the people who had your name down in their Motorola Flares. But the advent of 0121 coincided with a massive growth in aspiration felt by Birmingham’s musicians and an increased maturity across the local music ecosystem. Thrifty business owners resented the cost of this one extra digit - shopfront signs, flyers and business cards weren't reprinted for years. However, local musicians and music entrepreneurs readily embraced the change. Because overnight; Birmingham was becoming something different - something packed with potential. All of us could now have our shot at defining what was in that extra "1"; what it could mean for us as Brummies.
We've all seen how area codes - postcodes, for instance - get tagged on walls to create a sense of community. A false sense, maybe; one that can be bad as well as good. But in 1995 we had seen how 01 For London had defined the capital's creative voice, and we all wanted that for Brum. Before "digit day" in Birmingham there had been 021 Records - which released the first tracks by local heroes Musical Youth. There was the 021 Network cable channel and 021 Television - the regional ITV outside broadcast unit. But suddenly after "digit day" there was an explosion: 0121 Festival, 0121 Media, 0121 Television, 0121 Skyline, 0121 Radio, 0121 Productions, 0121 Recordings 0121 Records, Studio 0121, 0121 the sitcom and on and on - hashtag 0121!
This is something we've tried to capture in our new book and film project: 0121 LEGACY. From Moorish Delta 7 to The Streets - back in the day - or MIST and Jaykae right now; Birmingham has brought on its fair share of raw talent. But more to the point, Brum has consistently provided a safe space for artists working in niche genres - Reggae, House, Garage, Techno - while they ready themselves for the nation. Stormzy himself said Birmingham was the "unsung hero, carrying the torch for Grime" when London's influencer echo chambers thought Grime was dead, irrelevant or both.
What we’ve tried to do with 0121 LEGACY - working with co-writers Casey Bailey and Jess Munroe for the book version, and Daniel Alexander for the film version - is give an insight into how and why this happened. Here I've touched on how the "parallel worlds" of the city's heart and heartlands operated in sync to create a virtuous circle. The 0121 LEGACY book goes into much more depth, unpacking the stories of the studios and radio stations, the background to the crew rivalries and the infamous clashes that resulted. There's interviews with or features on Badness, Big Mikee, Bowzer, C4, Deadly, Despa, Hitman, Invasion Crew, Jaykae, Lady Leshurr, Malik, Mayhem, MIST, Preditah, RM, Remtrex, RoxXxane, M1llionz, SafOne, Sox, Stardom, Swifta Beater, Trilla, Vader and many more. There’s photographs from Jamie Drew and Jonathan Williams, plus design by the MOBO's Ryan Killeen.
Legacy is a 6-part mini documentary series (directed by Daniel Alexander) and book (from co-writers Casey Bailey and Jess Munroe) all in collaboration with Punch Records. The synopsis of both the book and the documentary series lies in exploring the untold stories of Birmingham’s grime, hip-hop, and rap scenes. It celebrates the artists who have been responsible for and have influenced the city's Black music scene, allowing new sub-genres and artists to follow in their footsteps.
Ammo Talwar, founder and CEO of Punch Records here talks about Legacy, and his own history of music, in the heart of Birmingham.
Looking Back to Look Forward
Twenty five years ago; where was I? Most likely I was behind the counter at Punch Records; the record shop I had started in Perry Barr, Birmingham back in 1997. Prior to the shop, my childhood was all about electro street sounds like Pac Jam and Wicky Wicky Wicky; Motown and James Brown. My brother Suki was bigger on New Jack Swing and Hip House, bussing tunes like Doug Lazy, Turn Up The Bass, Pump Up The Jam, Fast Eddie and early Teddy Riley. At home, our Punjabi parents always had their Gurbani Sangeet - Sikh hymns - playing on the radio - so we'd missed exposure to the classic Rocksteady or Calypso sounds our friends had already picked up and internalised. To make it easier, yeah that lack was probably what drew me straight to rebel music - Reggae, Hip Hop and Bhangra - and ultimately led me to set up a business where I could legitimately spin records all day long.
I started Punch Records in Perry Barr. (Now, those endz may not be familiar to you; but read on.) Perry Barr is one of our electrifying, unapologetically multicultural and typically British communities. An urban musical mixing desk where the sounds of a big British city can mix up together. In Birmingham’s inner city heartlands the stories are not that different to those in Brixton, St Paul’s, Toxteth or Chapeltown. We had racism, we had oppression - and uprisings in 1981 and 1985. But for me, Birmingham has always had a deeper integration at the grassroots. South Asian, Irish and Jamaican dads and uncles worked side-by-side on the assembly line, turning out British Leyland cars. Moms would feed whoever was in their yard fresh roti, soda bread or jerk chicken. We all played in the same streets and our aunties looked out for everyone. As kids we shared our music - C60 mixtapes; not playlists - and started bands together, inspired by Steel Pulse, UB40 and The Beat. Our generation was one more divided by class than by race or religion.
So Perry Barr is where Handsworth, Aston and Great Barr meet - classic urban Downtown. Punch Records thrived as a hangout for aspiring DJs, musicians and community stalwarts - plus hipsters from the nearby university campus; a drop-in for drop-outs. The Powers That Be always know there's money to be made in Downtown somehow; but they never know quite how to unlock it. So in 2021 Punch Records was demolished along with much of the local neighbourhood to make way for a much-hyped “award-winning athletes village” for the Commonwealth Games. But I was gone by then. In 2004 I'd relocated Punch to Digbeth in the city centre - we'd moved Uptown.
One definition of "entrepreneur" I like is someone who finds value in something simply by moving it from one place to another. The key to understanding the music revolution in Birmingham is the value that comes out of the creative tension between our contrasting "Uptown" and "Downtown" scenes. For generations, Birmingham has aspired to build a "destination" city centre with world-class civic amenities and an "Uptown" cultural vibe - think London's West End, Chicago's Andersonville or NOLA's Bourbon Street; just with less red carpets and more Baltis. This emphasis on investing in an area of 0.8 square miles has often resulted in the neglect and marginalisation of the communities where people actually live - Downtown. However when no-one - except the police - is watching you; can’t you more-or-less do what you like? From the 70s onwards, multiple different cultural scenes - mostly built around music of Black origin - developed in parallel just a few miles away from each other. Soundsystems in Handsworth, Blues parties in Aston, shabeens in Newtown, warehouse raves in Ladywood. Downtown venues where now-international names and genres gained traction included the Frontline, the Ridgeway, the Tower Ballroom, Parklands, Santa Rosa, Winson Green Community Centre, the Irish Centre, the Crown and Cushion, the Rialto, the Monte Carlo and even Handsworth Library; where Steel Pulse played one of their first gigs.
In Birmingham, the Uptown scene was shaped by one man; Eddie Fewtrell. His clubs famously birthed Duran Duran and the New Romantic scene, but in reality; everything in the Uptown scene happened either because of him or in spite of him. Fewtrell started Bermuda in the 50's, Cedars in the 60's, Barbarella's in the 80's, plus his eponymous "Edward's" clubs - Edwards No 7; Edwards No.8, etc. His clubs brought Hendrix, the Pistols, the Clash, the Ramones and the Buzzcocks to Birmingham (plus the Krays; but, reputedly, he managed to keep them out). Of course - from a working-class family in Aston - "Mr Nightclubs" remained an outsider to the city illuminati. And Fewtrell was genre-agnostic - whatever filled his floors was what his DJ's played. His clubs saw people on the turntable or the mic that others wouldn't have let in through the doors. Event organisers, bar supervisors, door managers and DJs learned their trade in his nighttime empire; and moved out across the city in the 1990s when he sold out to Ansells Brewery.
Back in the day, all of us would take the bus to Brum's Uptown clubs and pubs for our Big Nights Out. Uptown was the only place big enough for Birmingham’s diverse communities to mix - or mass up in huge numbers. Our book, Soho Road to the Punjab, documents how the 1980s Bhangra daytimer scene exploded here; principally at The Powerhouse (more here). Originally the Locarno Ballroom - and a venue for the BBC's Come Dancing - The Powerhouse already had a history of running Soul & Jazz all-dayers, Later, rebranded as Pulse, it would host the legendary Sundissential dance nights.
A generation of early pioneers eventually bridged Uptown and Downtown, crafting a creative ecosystem across the city where artists, DJs and promoters could build their skills and grow their audiences. These included Mambo, Lonny, and Shaun Williams, as well as the legendary Erskine Thompson. Erskine T became a global force, managing Total Contrast, Loose Ends, Maxi Priest, Chaka Demus and Pliers, Carol Thompson, Sly and Robbie and General Levy. Erskine's success helped open doors for many of the British Black music scene's players: Trevor Nelson, Danny D, Tim Blacksmith, Keith Harris and Pete Tong. In particular, props must go to Lloyd Blake, who started out in sound system culture and then went on to open and run The Hummingbird in the 1980s. This was one of the few clubs that could pull in an audience large enough to entice visiting Reggae legends "up country" from London - Garnett Silk, John Holt, Yellow Man, Shabba Ranks and many more. By the 1990's The Hummingbird was hosting club nights like Snapper and Hipnoziz - becoming Birmingham's incubator for the House, Garage and Jungle scene.
In 1995, Birmingham's area code changed from 021 to 0121. Most people didn't care - and why would they? Adding an extra digit to your phone number really did nothing, except to annoy the people who had your name down in their Motorola Flares. But the advent of 0121 coincided with a massive growth in aspiration felt by Birmingham’s musicians and an increased maturity across the local music ecosystem. Thrifty business owners resented the cost of this one extra digit - shopfront signs, flyers and business cards weren't reprinted for years. However, local musicians and music entrepreneurs readily embraced the change. Because overnight; Birmingham was becoming something different - something packed with potential. All of us could now have our shot at defining what was in that extra "1"; what it could mean for us as Brummies.
We've all seen how area codes - postcodes, for instance - get tagged on walls to create a sense of community. A false sense, maybe; one that can be bad as well as good. But in 1995 we had seen how 01 For London had defined the capital's creative voice, and we all wanted that for Brum. Before "digit day" in Birmingham there had been 021 Records - which released the first tracks by local heroes Musical Youth. There was the 021 Network cable channel and 021 Television - the regional ITV outside broadcast unit. But suddenly after "digit day" there was an explosion: 0121 Festival, 0121 Media, 0121 Television, 0121 Skyline, 0121 Radio, 0121 Productions, 0121 Recordings 0121 Records, Studio 0121, 0121 the sitcom and on and on - hashtag 0121!
This is something we've tried to capture in our new book and film project: 0121 LEGACY. From Moorish Delta 7 to The Streets - back in the day - or MIST and Jaykae right now; Birmingham has brought on its fair share of raw talent. But more to the point, Brum has consistently provided a safe space for artists working in niche genres - Reggae, House, Garage, Techno - while they ready themselves for the nation. Stormzy himself said Birmingham was the "unsung hero, carrying the torch for Grime" when London's influencer echo chambers thought Grime was dead, irrelevant or both.
What we’ve tried to do with 0121 LEGACY - working with co-writers Casey Bailey and Jess Munroe for the book version, and Daniel Alexander for the film version - is give an insight into how and why this happened. Here I've touched on how the "parallel worlds" of the city's heart and heartlands operated in sync to create a virtuous circle. The 0121 LEGACY book goes into much more depth, unpacking the stories of the studios and radio stations, the background to the crew rivalries and the infamous clashes that resulted. There's interviews with or features on Badness, Big Mikee, Bowzer, C4, Deadly, Despa, Hitman, Invasion Crew, Jaykae, Lady Leshurr, Malik, Mayhem, MIST, Preditah, RM, Remtrex, RoxXxane, M1llionz, SafOne, Sox, Stardom, Swifta Beater, Trilla, Vader and many more. There’s photographs from Jamie Drew and Jonathan Williams, plus design by the MOBO's Ryan Killeen.
You can get your copy here.