Part 28 (1/2)
”What the f.u.c.k is Britpop?”
”Um ...”
”Brit. Pop. Brit ... ish ish. Ah! And Pop ... ular music ular music. I get it! Well, we're we're Britpop! The Beatles were Britpop. Manfred Mann were Britpop. The Real Thing, Hot Chocolate, Thompson Twins, The Lotus Eaters, The a.s.sociates, The Goombay f.u.c.king Dance Band.” Britpop! The Beatles were Britpop. Manfred Mann were Britpop. The Real Thing, Hot Chocolate, Thompson Twins, The Lotus Eaters, The a.s.sociates, The Goombay f.u.c.king Dance Band.”
”Actually, they were German,” puts in Martin, above the rising murmurs.
”Well done,” you smile, clinking Martin's champagne gla.s.s with yours and knocking it back. ”Spotted the odd one out. Martin Fox, ladies and gents! Petra, can I have a refill?”
Amazingly, the journo is persisting.
”Okay, call it the current explosion of new music. What do you think of it?”
There's a bit of unease in the air and you realise a serious answer might be required.
”Oh, it's all right right. I mean, I can sort of see why you lot are getting your knickers in a twist over it, that's pretty predictable. But in reality, it's just a decent crop of new bands, and they're all doing fairly decently. It happens. I'm not convinced it's earth-shattering. I haven't heard anything that, like, radically influences me or sends me scratching my head back to the drawing board. But it's pretty healthy, I s'pose. A f.u.c.k sight better than the c.r.a.p around when we first came out. I quite like Sleeper, she writes good lyrics. Supergra.s.s are cool. Will that do? Can I start talking about The Goombay Dance Band again now?”
Heidi picks a serious-looking chap at the back.
”Kai Johansson, Svenska Dagbladet Svenska Dagbladet, Stockholm. I'd like to ask who you would like to be number one from Blur and Oasis.”
Feeling the need for some variety you look at your band.
”Guys?”
”Uh ... dunno,” mutters Martin.
”Blur,” answers Craig, firmly.
”Anyone but Oasis,” offers Dan.
”And you, Lance?” asks the writer.
”Neither. I think both songs are s.h.i.+t.”
”But which band do you prefer?”
”Slade.”
Then you notice that tool from Craze Craze has his hand in the air. You're bored. Time for one more sc.r.a.p, after which it really would be nice to see some music. has his hand in the air. You're bored. Time for one more sc.r.a.p, after which it really would be nice to see some music.
”Heidi, pick him,” you instruct.
”Who?”
”The guy over there from Craze,” Craze,” you say over the microphone in a stupidly loud voice, pointing at him, ”who's had his hand up for about forty minutes.” you say over the microphone in a stupidly loud voice, pointing at him, ”who's had his hand up for about forty minutes.”
”Okay, you,” she squeaks. Craze Craze bloke smiles cordially, so you smile back even wider. bloke smiles cordially, so you smile back even wider.
”Tony Gloster, Craze.” Craze.”
”Tony! Welcome! How nice nice that you made it along. How ... that you made it along. How ... difficult difficult it must have been to drag yourself away from Noel Gallagher's a.r.s.ehole.” it must have been to drag yourself away from Noel Gallagher's a.r.s.ehole.”
You're rewarded with a gratifyingly loud blend of laughter and outrage.
”There's no need for that,” frowns Gloster.
”Oh, yes? Just like there's no need for some of those intelligent, thought-provoking things you wrote in your alb.u.m review. What was it ... 'like a bitter, alcoholic old uncle arriving for Christmas-they're back'?”
”Er ... it's called a bad review. Live with it.”
”Well, you're right, it most certainly was was a bad review. And there was another thing that tickled me: 'Quite why Webster and others believe they are required in 1995 is baffling.' You want me to explain it to you?” a bad review. And there was another thing that tickled me: 'Quite why Webster and others believe they are required in 1995 is baffling.' You want me to explain it to you?”
”If you want.”
”Was that what you put your hand up to ask?”
”Well, as you haven't given me a chance to even speak yet-”
”Aw ... Tony. Poor Tony! Sorry, please ... ask me what you wanted to ask me.”
”It'll be a letdown now.”
”Just ask, and ye shall be answered.”
”I was just wondering whether you saw yourself as part of, or an alternative to, the current explosion?”
”Oh, booooring,” you moan, having expected something far more fruity. ”Why would anyone want to know that?” that?”
”I think it's important. For you, and for your fans.”
”Well, I must tell you you that I really don't understand why we have to be either, but I would also imagine that none of our fans give the slightest s.h.i.+t as long as we keep making good records. I mean, who cares? Really?” that I really don't understand why we have to be either, but I would also imagine that none of our fans give the slightest s.h.i.+t as long as we keep making good records. I mean, who cares? Really?”
”Were you ever concerned that the Magpies would be superfluous to the whole thing?”
”Sorry, Tony, I didn't go to university. I don't understand words with more than two syllables.”
”Did you worry that you'd be rendered unnecessary?”
”Hmmm ...” you think, glancing over at Heidi, ”that one's got five five syllables. Oh, I dunno. You tell me. Why would we be?” syllables. Oh, I dunno. You tell me. Why would we be?”
”Well, you're part of the old guard.”
”The old old guard. The dear old guard.” guard. The dear old guard.”
”Pretty much everyone else has been swept away.”
”Swept away! Yes, sweep us away, under the carpet, before Alan McGee spots us!” you cry, swigging a bit more champers. ”Whoever said press conferences weren't fun? Sorry, Tony, I haven't got the foggiest idea what you're talking about.”