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OIL |
posted by jim on 13/07/06
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I’ve been busy. Not proper build a house, asphalt a motorway busy. But busy. Aside from the odd gig here and there though, I can’t tell you much about it because it’s all stuff that’s still ‘in the pipeline’. And for fear of my pipeline drying up like it’s doing in the real world of oil and pipelines, I’m keeping my cards close to my chest. So I’ll just keep on mixing as many metaphors as I can and keep mum and perhaps schtum too. If I tell you what I’ve been up to it might curse what it is and it won’t come to fruition. So why did I even mention it? Because I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’d just been sitting around all summer in my own sweat, watching the World Cup and eating biscuits.
I have watched a fair bit of World Cup by the way. Being the indie Rod Stewart I’m technically Scottish but I haven’t been all anti English about my football supporting like that grumpy tennis dude. There’s no red and white flag on the front of my house or increasing the petrol intake of my car by fumfty per cent, but I was rooting for England anyway. On the subject of flags, when is the right time to take them down? At the end of the competition? When England were knocked out? It’s only my nimby snob’s opinion, and I know the flag’s been reclaimed etc but now the football’s over, the area where I live looks a bit like a BNP stronghold.
Anyway, I played a couple of gigs. One was a benefit in Bolton, which was superb. It was in a pub but the pub was more like a house really and the whole occasion felt more like a party than a gig. The kind of gig that if it was in a TV drama programme, people like me would say it was too unrealistic. ‘Gigs aren’t like that.” I’d say.
The other gig was at Blissfields Festival. The stage was made of grass. I didn’t play my usual heroic set. I didn’t have enough time onstage to build to a victorious finish and I had onstage sound difficulties that I won’t bore you with. But it was a lovely little festival, I was just a tad disappointed with myself.
I can probably tell you that I – along with the rest of Team Jim Bob – have appeared in a promo vid for the fine Sheffield band Little Man Tate. Look out for it on the TV. Mr Spoons is very convincing as a policeman. The kind of policeman that if he was in a TV drama programme, people like me would say he was too unrealistic. ‘Policemen aren’t like that.” I’d say.
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THERE'S A HERON ON MY ROOF |
posted by jim on 18/06/06
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One of the great things about being a father is Father’s Day. You get presents and a card and get to not feel guilty for bumming around on a Sunday with your hangover when you should be mowing the lawn or putting up shelves or something. The hangover is from last night’s Carter message board gig at the Windmill in old Amsterdam (Brixton). I didn’t drink that much but I’m a bit of a thimbleful lightweight nowadays and one pint of booze will do the trick quite well. For my set I managed to slip in a bit of My Way and also a bit of Heroes, which I thought was quite clever of me. Very Bono. Anyway, a great gig, I expect it turned a bit Sodom and Gomorrah
after I left, it looked like it was heading that way and I’m too old and borderline Cliff Richard for that.
Other things I’ve done recently was a gig in Nottingham which I enjoyed. Chris T-T was back for the day and it was as if we’d never stopped playing together. Rehearsals, reshmearsals.
Seeing as how it’s so sunny and hot and nice outdoors, I’ve been sitting inside typing on a hot computer, getting steadily more vitamin D deficient by the minute. I need to either do more or remember things I’ve done to justify this blog thing. I’m going to go and break my teeth on my American hard gums and Father’s Day Toblerone.
More soon.
Surely.
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HATS |
posted by jim on 4/06/06
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“I’m going to see my sister in Devon for the weekend, perhaps I’ll get my first of many swims in while I’m there. Yeah right.” Yeah wrong. I did go swimming. It was a small pool so I managed a few sort of lengths, getting cramp in my toes, something that’s happened to me whenever I’ve swam ever since I was a child. My toes twist around each other in a painful way. After the swim I treated my family to a flash slap up lunch of cheesy chips and watery mystery brand cola. Since my return to stinky London I admit I haven’t made it in the water for my second swim as yet. We live in hope.
Reviewed the Best New Acts (Mojo Awards)/ on Radio 6 on a Friday. I didn’t know some of the acts’ work I have to admit, but pretended I was more knowledgeable than I was by cracking woofers and being my usual man of the people hilarious self. After the show me and Marc my über manager met up with the rest of Team Jim Bob (Mr Spoons, off the wagon and pissed) to go see the reunion My Life Story gig, which was fantastic. MLS Singer Jake Shillingford open with caution looked like he was enjoying the chance to strut around the stage in a series of loud jackets and throw some impressive Vegas shapes. In the bar after the gig no less than five people spoke to me thinking I was Jake, including the keyboard player from My Life Story! I think that warranted an exclamation mark, I’m not a big fan of excamation marks usually.
While I was at the MLS reunion my daughter was across town watching Take That (no exclamation mark, strange) and she said it was the greatest gig ever. Note to self: All these reunions, don’t go getting any ideas.
Yesterday I played the Strawberry Fair festival in Cambridge. I didn’t realize how big it was. It was huuuuuuge. A very hot and sunny day and I started to get nervous before playing, that perhaps the audience might leave the tent while I was playing, not knowing who the hell I was, wondering why I was on stage with my terrible guitar playing and shouting. I love to be proved wrong and everyone stayed, in fact the crowd increased, the tent was proper packed, it was like the Arctic (my boys) Monkeys at Reading last year – I expect people will be saying that this morning.
Oh, and I wore a hat.
a bit like this one
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I'M UNFIT AND I KNOW IT |
posted by jim on 17/05/06
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I don’t get out much. Well, it’s not safe is it. I’m getting fat around the middle, I’ve been thinking and planning on going swimming early every other morning or so. I haven’t quite managed it yet as the determination I go to bed with doesn’t stick with me till the early morning, when all I want to do is drink coffee and watch the same piece of five minute TV news going round and round and round. I did go and see
Morrissey on a Sunday Night at The London Palladium. All the great vegetarians were there: Morrissey of course, Chrissie Hynde, Stella McCartney and me. Morrissey was great, although he seemed to be having a bit of a ‘Bloomsbury’, complaining of sound problems and getting more and more agitated. He didn’t play an encore and there was a certain amount of booing. I’m going to see my sister in Devon for the weekend, perhaps I’ll get my first of many swims in while I’m there. Yeah right.
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CHUCK |
posted by jim on 6/05/06
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It’s a widely recognised dictum (is that the right word?) that you should never meet your heroes. The other night I went to The Purcell Rooms on a busy and hottest-day-of-the-year-so-far South Bank to watch and listen as my hero Chuck Palahniuk read from his latest book. After the reading, an interview, some gags, great anecdotes and a few questions from the audience, there was a mad scramble to get down the front. A mad scramble to get down the front not seen since they opened the gates for the Beatles at Shea Stadium. This particular front was the front of the queue to get stuff signed by – as I’m now going to call him, because we’re now on first name terms – Chuck.
When I finally reached the queue’s front I was sweating from the hottest-day-of-the-year-so-far heat and also because I was nervous. I didn’t want to make a nob of myself or have my picture taken with a phone camera that didn’t work. I didn’t bring half a library with me to be signed, like so many in front of me slowing down the pace of the queue’s progress.
“Shall I dedicate it to somebody?” Chuck asked, or something like that, I was too struck with awe and embarrassment to listen.
“Jim Bob.” I said. I thought this would be good, instead of just saying ‘Jim’. I figured it would look better in the front of the book and my own self-inflated ego told me it would be like having something autographed from one star to another. Like an Elvis record dedicated to John Lennon and signed by the King. “Jim Booowwb?” Chuck said to me, like Meg Ryan did to Kevin Kline in that film French Kiss.
He wrote ‘to Jim Bob – no pearl diving! -– Chuck Palahniuk.’ And as I left he said “see you later, Jim Booowwb” like Meg again. As I left the building, walking past the rest of the long waiting queue of people with their malfunctioning camera phones and Chuck libraries they all looked at me and I knew they were laughing. Earlier on in the evening while writing to go in for the reading, Matt Johnson from The The was sat nearby. When we all went in, he had the seat next but one to me. Not important, just adding a bit of colour to the story.
Every year I used to go to Reading Festival and always used to bump into somebody called Roger. We used to end up spending the day together and he’d always get spectacularly drunk, one year he was there with his girlfriend (at least I think she was) who an actress and the daughter of the bloke from Randall & Hopkirk . She’s since been on telly quite a bit. That same year we also hung out with a pre fame Denise Van Outen. Roger used to be in a band called FMB, I found out this week he won 1.8 million quids on the lottery. That’s nearly two million pounds. Inspired by his work, yesterday, after laying a carpet for my mum, my girlfriend and I bought two Euromillions tickets. And guess what? That’s right, we won fuck all.
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LIBRARIES & SUPERMARKETS, CHEESE & POETS |
posted by jim on 22/04/06
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You may recall me writing on here in the past about Morrisons buying out my local Safeways and then shutting it down, leaving me with nowhere to buy my cheese. I was pleased to hear this week that Sainsburys will be opening a new supermarket in its place in the summer. Just in time hopefully for me to buy some multi-packed ice lollies before the sun goes in.
I played a gig in Wimbledon Library this week. It was always going to be a bit different. The gig was upstairs from where all the Harry Potters are kept, the audience arrived before the gig was open and had to carry their own (swivel) chairs up to the venue.
Because a library is an unlicensed venue the wine was free and so it felt like a small party rather than a gig.
I read some stuff from my Carter book (‘gulp!’ as Time Out would say) and played some songs. I chickened out of reading anything from my new unpublished book but did have a stab at a passage from an Elton John biography that was on the windowsill behind the ‘stage’. I resisted saying that I had a stab at Elton John’s passage there, I hope you’re proud of me.
When the enjoyable gig was over, a couple of ladies were telling me how they’d enjoyed the gig and one of them said I had a charming manner, the kind of manner that would allow me to get away with saying any old nonsense. They particularly liked my reading of the Adrian’s Magic Pants story – pooh and all. It turns out she was Dylan Thomas' daughter
This completely made the evening for me.
This morning I played a couple of acoustic tunes and had a chat on Crystal Palace FC radio.
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THE LONG GOOD FRIDAY MORNING |
posted by jim on 14/04/06
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Would it be going too far if I said that Mike Skinner is a genius?
I’ve been playing the new Streets album The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living
a lot and it’s really that good. It’s got sad moments and funny moments and it’s all over in less than forty minutes. No dicking around with beats and loops or guest show offs, just straight in there with the story and out again when it’s finished. Morgan from the Senseless Things is involved with The Streets in a fairly big way, I bumped into Morgan about a year or so ago at a party on a boat. There were a lot of music business types there from my past and many of them had either forgotten who I used to be or thought it would be best to pretend that they had. Morgan on the other hand was the same as he ever was…same as he ever was. A charming young man as Morrissey once said.
I’ve been passing much of my day and night writing. Not songs though, which is a slight worry. Considering that’s what I supposedly do for a semi living. I wonder if I’ll ever write another song and making my recent pledge to myself that I wouldn’t write songs just because I had to ever again may have been a foolhardy mistake.
I’ve got a gig in a Library next Thursday. details
I’ll be playing some songs and reading from my Carter book and possibly also something from my unpublished ‘novel’ because Marc (manager, style advisor) has told everyone I will. I need to find something short enough so people don’t start shouting “Play a fucking song!” at me halfway through. I may attempt one of the more self-contained ‘funny stories’ and hope for the best. It’s a library, what’s the worst that can happen.
I’m reading this book at the moment
it's good
More soon.
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SCHOOL TOUR DIARY PART LAST |
posted by jim on 1/04/06
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As the Big O once said through coal tinted glasses, it’s over, it’s over, it’s ooooooooverrr. Just as I was staring to get warmed up it’s time to unpack my fag stinking personals and go back to my day job (watching Neighbours and not shaving).
The final two gigs brought Team Jim Bob and – surely now a full member of TJB – Chris T-T to Winchester and Shepherd’s Bush. Chris was born in Winchester and before the gig we went round to his mum and dad’s house for tea and biscuits and the first non-filthy and juvenile conversation of the tour. Chris’ parents are lovely.
Winchester Tower Arts Centre is another seated gig and once again makes for a polite but very appreciative audience and also once again makes me more of a stand up comedian than usual. I don’t know what it is, the seats and the theatrical nature of a venue – the bar was only open for ‘the interval’ – that makes me come over (ooer) all Eddie Izzard. It was also the drunkest I’ve been on stage for a while, mixing my drinks like an 18 year old birthday boy and all on an empty, yet rapidly expanding in direct proportion to Mr Spoon’s shrinking stomach. Mr S has shed a stone and a half through staying clear for the past month of the three horsemen of the apocalypse, sugar, fat and alcohol. Spoons now resembles a younger, cocknier Neil Tennant.
So. London. It always seems to end here. We once mucked around with the rules of rock ‘n’ roll and played the London date in the middle of the tour but it made one or two of the following gigs seem slightly anti-climatic, somewhat empty and also left Neil with a big fat drive home at the end of it all.
Bush Hall was built by the publisher William F. Hurndall as a gift for his daughter. He had three daughters and he built a dance hall for each of them, his favourite one was Bush Hall and he used to live upstairs – I’m presuming he’s dead and not the oldest man in the world. The venue is still covered in the original ornate plasterwork and if I could have reached them I would have swung from one of the chandeliers hanging from the decorative ceiling during ‘The Headmaster’s Song’.
Milk Kan were extra guests for London and were superb and Chris managed to not pick a fight with them (see previous blog). T-T was of course tremendous too, in spite of a few sound problems on stage. He should be more of a star than he already is to many of us. Still, in a world where Coldplay have just been told their latest album was the biggest selling record on the planet last year, should I really expect any different?
Me next. I don’t want to blow my own trumpet but if I did I’d probably say that I was brilliant in a big cheek swelling fanfare. I got a bit carried away at Bush Hall, I like it when that happens. When I’m like Pete Townsend or Keef Richards , ready to chop any mutha fuckers down who try to get onstage to give me a hug or ask for an autograph. Not really, but I like to think I gave it every last bit of my all.
40 people had advance tickets for London but mysteriously didn’t show up for the gig, I’d love to know why. Please send us a web message or tell us on the Carter forum. I hope it wasn’t anything tragic or awful and was just because you decided Razorlight at the Albert Hall would be better or you wanted to keep your ticket un-torn and intact to frame on your wall as a part of your expanding shrine to me. Thanks to everyone who made it along and likewise to everyone else who turned up at any of the other shows.
See you at the library.
This week’s recommendations:
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SINGING DUSTMEN (PLUMBERS & ELCTRICIANS) |
posted by jim on 27/03/06
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Part two in a trilogy of tour diaries and I’m pretty tired. Not like I’ve run a marathon, or even half a marathon like my fit – in so many ways – manager Marc, but just plain shagged out. Too much gin, too much tonic, not enough sleep, addicted to the plink, plink fizz of Alka Selzter type of tiredness. Anyway, I’m home for a couple of days, the tour has been fun and eventful. Chris T-T and I are fast becoming the indie Journey South, currently at Number 1 in the album charts with the singing dustman mmm smooooth at Number 2, Jesus, I leave the house for a couple of weeks and the whole country goes stupid and mad in the head). By the way, the dustman’s record is called ‘The Impossible Dream’, oh the many levels of irony. If it wasn’t for Russell Watson, Andrea Bocelli, Jack Johnson, Vitorio Grigolo, Barry Manilow, Dave Gilmour and Kelly Clarkson the LP charts would be full of middle of the road manufactured guff, thank God for my idol David Essex at number 7 with his greatest hits. Rock on.
Since my last post Team Jim Bob/Team T-T have been to Leicester, Sheffield, Hull and Hastings. Along the way we’ve discovered ‘the best deep filled chocolate pudding in the world’ (Chris T-T) in a café in Matlock, we’ve met the 118 guys -– also on tour in this van We also started another Arctic Monkeys rumour at the Sheffield venue where two members of the band worked till recently. The new rumour is that the singer is my love child.
Along the way we’ve had stage invasions, upset two support acts and at least one drunk woman wearing a skirt made from her front room curtains. In Hastings Mr Spoons took the afternoon off to go see Palace play in Derby. Whenever Spoons is absent things seem to go a bit norks up and so I wasn’t surprised to turn up at the venue to find the gig double booked and a band already sound checking enough musical equipment to open a parallel universe Charing Cross Road. Chris called them emo and as if to prove his point they got all emotional about it and said he was a beardy twat and it looked like we might have a dressing room brawl on our hands without Mr Spoons there to split it up with his size. There was no fight of course, although the double booked band’s mum did keep getting deliberately in our way all night.
The other trub with special guests involved a top hat, a mouth organ, an accusation of paedophilia and some hilarious musical/political/comedy in the unintentional style of Legs Akimbo
That’s it for now, things are potentially going well for the School album. If the promised reviews and radio play becomes fact I’ll be happy. I’m off now to respond to the critics on the Carter messageboard, be afraid, be very afraid.
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THE PAST IS A DIFFERENT COUNTY |
posted by jim on 20/03/06
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Within the first couple of days of this tour (Bath and Brighton) I would meet my daughter’s best friend’s mum, Carter’s press officer and three separate people I used to be in bands with way back in the very late nineteen seventies and early eighties. My past has moved South.
The School tour begins with a long slow drive North across London to collect the digital piano we’re borrowing, it weighs twelve and a half tons. Then the currently teatotal, dried fruit eating Mister Spoons aims the Popemobile in the direction of Bath for the first date of a short tour. It’s good to get away, I was becoming a right old misery guts and getting on the nerves of my homies.
Bath is a pretty unique place. I know it’s obvious but I was struck by how all the houses and buildings are the same shade of nicotined magnolia. I wondered if in spite of the beauty of it all the monochromia (that’s two new words I’ve invented so far) ever got local people down. I asked the audience at the gig and the general consensus was no, especially when the sun shines and the town glows like it’s made from gold. Great gig by the way,
Left early-ish the next morning to get to Brighton in time to meet a glazier who was going to remove Chris T-T’s front room window so we could get the biggest and heaviest sideboard ever built through the resulting hole. Don’t say I never do any proper work.
Brighton Komedia is a nice venue, with tables and chairs for the audience and a curtained off bar with whispering bar staff. It has a calming effect on the audience causing shyness. I think if the Americans had parachuted thousands of circular candlelit tables and chairs into Iraq instead of all the bombs everything might have been so different. It’s a wonderful gig, maybe I talk too much – as somebody once said, making it at times closer to stand up comedy than music. The bit of the set with Chris on the piano is taking shape now and sounds particularly good tonight.
Wolverhampton is more of a rowdy – and upstairs in the dressing room area at least – piss stinking gig. Still a great success though, I chuck in a few more Carter songs than on the other dates and up the bad language and everyone seems to be happy. It’s a diverse place is Britain. Bath, Brighton and Wolves could have been different countries in terms of audience and audience reaction.
We drop manager Marc off at a hotel near the NEC where he’s looking after Brian Blessed and Ben Fogle for the weekend. On the drive back, Mr Spoons, Chris T-T and myself bite into strong cinnamon Tic-Tacs ouch and then press the broken mints into our tongues to see how long we can endure the pain. I can only manage a couple of seconds but Chris can totally overcome the minty agony, mind you he is a Reiki Master.
Get home for a wash and brush up and to read the reaction on the Carter message board to the School album. Not enough metal guitars and too much cardboard in the sleeve it seems. Oh well, we learn by our mistakes.
More soon.
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