Biography

Gursharan Chana (Born Uganda, 1971), aka the Boy Chana Born in Uganda, East Africa, the young ‘Boy Chana’ emigrated very early in his life due to the dictatorship of Idi Amin – an arrival that caused the death of hundreds of thousands of Ugandans.  Initially the family were housed in an army campus in Gaydon near the picturesque English town of Leamington spa – a cultural shift by anyone’s reckoning.  However, they soon moved to Birmingham arriving in Lozells when the ‘Boy Chana’ was between 3 and 4 years old.   In an already culturally diverse community, the family were made welcome, as Chana recounts, “English people helped us a lot as my father was blind.”  He recalls street celebrations with the Queen’s Silver Jubilee and Charles and Diana’s wedding day.  His family faced hardship however with the early death of one of his sisters, typical of the times, the information provided about her illness was patchy and the family received little support in coping with their loss.   His experiences of growing up in Birmingham were mixed, on the one side there was the sense of community found amongst local people, on the other side there was the prejudice experienced by many Asian migrants.  Chana distinctly remembers National Front marches taking place, recalling how predictions suggested that one march would be of a particularly large scale, and people were advised to stay indoors.  He remembers a real sense of feeling that they were going to be kicked out of the country.  His response was to gather stones and hide up in the attic, looking back Chana comments, “it seems funny now but at that time we were determined that if the National Front was going to come up our street, we were going to defend ourselves – nor were we alone in feeling that way.  As it was, we’d expected thousands of people and there were hardly any!”   This march happened shortly before his life changing experience with the Handsworth uprisings in 1985.  Chana and his family were at the geographical heart of the uprisings.  He experienced the sights, sounds and smells of these history-changing events in Birmingham.  For Chana “the day started off like any other day, I went to the temple with my mother, but whilst there, we were told to stay there.  In the end we stayed at the temple right through the night, till 5 or 6 in the morning when it had calmed down enough for us to go home.  We could see the flames in the reflection of windows, and the services – fire, police, ambulance – were all stationed there, it was scary, we saw petrol bombs and fighting, in the temple there was such uncertainty – mainly about why it was happening.”   The following day, it continued, Chana was in his house and saw police involved in fighting, “I saw a rioter cutting a fire hose, and scuffles take place with the police, it was a scary time.  I saw the debris afterwards, I saw how tired the police and firemen were and the damage that had been inflicted on the area, far worse than the physical damage was a crowd of Asian people gathering round the local post office – two people had been in the burnt down post office and they’d died.  I was shocked that this could happen.” Yet, he also comments that it was something which seemed as though it was just waiting to happen, “the police were constantly harassing people, although mainly African Caribbean people, and the National Front march had left its mark on the community, they were poorly served in terms of the services available and they were utterly disillusioned.”  Unsurprisingly, the usual suspects – politicians – visited afterwards, Douglas Hurd was one of the un-welcomed guests, none of them had visited after the National Front march, it was unlikely that they were to be welcomed now.  However, as Chana comments “we saw improvements immediately afterwards.” Chana also saw, close to hand, as they used his family’s phone, shelter and facilities, the journalists recording, documenting, writing, and crucially, photographing the stories unfolding before him.  To an impressionable young man, they made a big impact – as had the difficulties endured by the police - and this set him out on a different life course, one documented in this exhibition.  At this time, much of Boy Chana’s cultural experiences had been based around the gurdwara, he was a frequent visitor, supporting his father, and remembers music being an integral part of temple visits.   The Boy Chana hadn’t intended to become a photographer.  He first picked up a camera at the age of 14, during GCSE photography.  He’d grown up seeking the status of a job with the police force, along with the sense of being and belonging that he felt the job would bring him.  For someone who had travelled continents before making his home in Birmingham, this wasn’t so surprising.  Instead, however, Chana chose to document the cultural changes he saw happening all around him, to photograph and to write, but also vitally, to experience for himself the music – bhangra – the events – daytimers - and the stories of his time.   His growing interest in art, music and culture, inspired him to look for magazines, papers, radio stations and events that brought him in touch with what was happening locally.  To start with this was hard, the popular press weren’t writing about Asian culture, and bhangra music was very much seen as being part of Asian culture.  Finally, at 16, he came across ‘Multimag’ a locally produced magazine that looked at community awareness and health, but our fledgling journalist managed to persuade them to widen out and he began to write about local events and crucially, music.  His writing developed alongside the popular press’s interest in reaching out to Asian communities and he began to write for a magazine called ‘Merivoli’, or ‘My Language.’  Then, a year later, a new paper on the block caught his eye, and The Boy Chana began to write for Eastern Eye – a paper he carried on writing for right into the late 90’s.  He reviewed live events as well as singles, albums and gigs.  Bhangra inspires considerable passion in its fans and some of ‘Boy Chana’s’ reviews weren’t too complimentary, on four occasions he received death threats for his less than flattering critical feedback.   Journalism wasn’t an easy or obvious choice, and there weren’t the routes of accessing the profession that there are now – especially not for a young Asian.  Papers weren’t interested in hearing about Asian culture and competition was fierce for the few papers that existed.  However, Chana continued to write for a range of papers for many years, joining the National Union of Journalists.  He also did some voluntary work at Pebble Mill, manning the phones for the Asian programmes Unit, on programmes such as ‘Bollywood or Bust’, but finally he had to start thinking about paid employment.   At the same time, Chana began to attend the new phenomena of ‘Daytimers’ – along the same lines as a club night but during the day!  His first daytimer was at the exclusive venue of ‘Bonkers’, an event for which he skived off from school.  The origins of daytimers began with large birthday parties.  These were originally held in pubs, with young people bringing tapes, then their stereos and then as the events grew they moved to clubs.  Chana had been a frequent visitor to the pubs, including well known venues such as The Farcroft and Red Cow.  His first visit was at the ripe old age of 16 when, along with his brother, he went to see bands such as Golden Star, DCS, Heera and Alaap.   Musically, it was local boys Apna Sangeet and DCS, who were starting to fuse bhangra with rock, that inspired Chana.  His first tapes were by DCS,  ‘123 Go’ and ‘Shankum’.  Sampling became increasingly popular as bands such as Pardesi were quickly followed up by new acts like Bally Sagoo.  Chana wasn’t alone in rating the new fusions that were opening up, producers were starting to search for new sounds and samples, exploring beatbox, and contemplating electric sampling, but always at the core was bhangra.   Daytimers were led by young Asian people looking for opportunities and spaces to celebrate and enjoy music that was never heard in clubs.  Economics were also a key factor as it was far cheaper to use clubs during the day since regular clubbers wouldn’t dream of going to a club during the day!  There were also more opportunities for Asian promoters new to the club scene.  Chana recalls how one of the key spaces in the development of daytimers was Matthew Bolton College, since, without the involvement or interest of the local media, promoters relied on the college as a place to distribute information on events, daytimers, live bands and as a ticket outlet.  The promoters there, Birmingham Posse Promotions, better known as BP Promotions, were vital in promoting events that lived through word of mouth contacts.   For Chana, these first daytimer events were awe-inspiring.  As he recalls, “at that time it was amazing to see so many Asian kids in one area and in a nightclub!  It was an entirely new experience, bringing for many a real sense of belonging, the buzz of being there was sufficient.”  Chana had found the sense of belonging that he had, at one time, looked to the police force for.  He wanted to do more than simply partake of this heady time however, so he began to photograph - the people, the places, the scenes, the sights and with it, the atmosphere.  For the first time, clubs were filled with young Asians in both Western and traditional club wear – only this included lengha, shalwar kameez and even sari’s dancing next to tight jeans, flares and batwing tops! It wasn’t just dress style that was a changing arena … the moves were crucial and our boy was equally into the dancing.  His moves, to Naramjayee by Golden Star, won him a dance competition at the Dome, where he was awarded his prize by the renown Malkit Singh co-presented by the rising BBC reporter Anita Bhalla.   Liking what he experienced, The Boy Chana sought to engage far more than simply attending the events.  Joining forces with three other emerging DJ’s they each put £100 towards lights, decks and crucially, records.  Their first stop was Don Christie’s record shop, long since replaced by the Bull Ring, where they bought a mix of Reggae and R & B as well as bhangra sourced from local shops.  So the Boy Chana began to DJ, first of all at school discos but later at a number of club events.  At his first big event, at The Hummingbird, he started out with between 100 to 150 people, by the end of the night there were between 600 and 700 people on the dance floor.  Bhangra had finally found an outlet.   So, you’re probably asking, where did the name ‘Boy Chana’ come from?  The boy explains, “I was bit zany when I was young, into Jean-Paul Gautier style clothing, I had a Black Levi jacket that I wore with added Jean-Paul Gautier style.  I needed a DJ name and this jacket had ‘Boy’ on the back so, partly because of ‘Boy George’ being about at the time – with his own distinct style – the name ‘Boy Chana’ came about.”   As his Djing progressed, Chana moved into radio, playing out on Buzz FM, now called Galaxy, he worked nights from 2 till 6am, playing a range of music that always included Bhangra.  The djing took a new twist when he started to play for the new Asian Radio on the block, Radio XL in the early 90’s, the first local radio station to transmit in Punjabi.  On his first day he played music for one hour solid, of this time he comments, “I was too scared to speak till the station director suggested it might be an idea to talk on the airwaves!”   Sadly, daytimers came with their own difficulties, being held during the day meant that young people were missing school and college to attend.  There were also frictions between groups, erupting into violence based on religion and territory – both geographical and female.  The Sikh’s from Handsworth formed the ‘Shere Punjab’ gang, whilst Muslims took ownership of Aston with the Panthers – the gangs existing today came a long time after these groups existed.  For our man, however, the gangs held no attraction – it was always about the music.   Ultimately, pressure was put on the live acts to stay away, the pressures frequently coming from places of worship.  Religious elders from a range of religions and places of worship visited daytimers, along with local authority officers and the growing issue of daytimers even became a subject for the mainstream media, such as with Ed Doolan’s radio programme.  The backlash reached a peak in the late 80’s and early 90’s that saw daytimers gradually dying out and slowly being replaced by night time events.  Yet, for the Boy Chana, these would never incite the excitement that those original events held.  He comments, “whilst I’m aware of the club nights that happen it does feel as if much of the honesty and passion from going to a bhangra gig has been lost.  Promoters are no longer so interested in the music – and the realisation that a space for playing bhangra can be created – as they are interested in the money.”   Today, ‘Boy Chana’ no longer Dj’s or writes professionally, but continues to be interested in the Bhangra scene.  As Chana comments “now a new generation of Dj’s have come up that are playing at weddings, mixing new styles and moving bhangra on, but I’ll always be glad – and excited – about that period of time, there was an energy and originality to it that young people don’t have today.”   Chana’s role in the emergence of bhangra and the role played by Birmingham’s clubs, pubs, producers, artists and audiences is one explored through this exhibition.  Comments (0) Write comment Name Comment Add Comment

 

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