| Tuesday May 30 Up to London, grey London once more. I manage the Melody Maker part all right: my post has already been opened, so no more two year old press releases from Channel 4 and ITV to throw away. Ian Watson is there, and he's a good sort. We discuss the forthcoming Graham Coxon interview. I don't mind that. It means I don't need to think for myself. Daniel gives me a pile of crap albums (I can always sell some of the reviews on), and Carol invites me down the Stamford for a smoky drink. I decline the drink, but stay for 15 minutes anyway. I have little to say. Graham in Camden is how I remember him - shy, awkward, chatty and extremely quiet. (Which doesn't half fuck up my tape.) We discuss what it's like to have people tell you that you have a drinking "problem" and the responsibilities of growing older. Jon's advice the night before is to avoid responsibility. We both appreciate it, but find it difficult to take. Anyway, Jon's a kept man. It's good to chat with him, cheers me up oddly. Beforehand, I was starting to really freak out at the prospect of spending the night in London, wanted to run back home - any home. Chelmsford, preferably. Pretend the last 20 or more years haven't happened. Give me another chance. Please. I'll make damn sure I'll stay away from the music press this time. ASIDE: Interesting, how this journal is self-censoring. Nowhere have I stated my real feelings about people in positions of power that I'm familiar with, for example. Nowhere I have been particularly catty about friends or work colleagues. I know I'll be sending this on. Visit Stephen and Emma and Otis. Stephen's hair is cut ridiculously short, making him look like a caricature of something. Don't know what. We discuss ideas for photo/words books - the coolest of which is retro. The Most Memorable Concerts of the 90s. At least it plays to our strengths. S still wants to play out his Ghost Towns Of America fantasy, which would be great if it wasn't for the American factor. Meet Lisa Paulon and Jon in Spitalfields - the 10 Bells, actually. The pub that the tourist Jack the Ripper trails start from, Eddie Campbell's book on sale in the Camden-ite hostelry. Lisa has dark hair now, wears more make-up than before. Started looking gothic again. She pumps me for drink stories, and we drink. Later, Chan Marshall (Cat Power) reduces the chattering London classes to absolute silence. Astonishing. She can't play either guitar or piano that well, her voice is too echoed and child-like.... yet she still evokes a Sixth Sense feeling, ghosts in the bedroom. Bump into Jennifer Nine very briefly on the stairs, giving away cassettes of one of her artists, and I tell her that I feel momentarily proud to be British. Especially considering the hubbub that was going on when Chan played the Crocodile in Seattle while I was there. Dave Callahan and Laney are there - an item? - Dave now working in his first proper job in 10 years, a runner for a film company. I dance briefly with Laney, and we all drink more. Lisa's charges, Queens Of The Stone Age turn up - and some of them remember me from various incarnations. I believe them, and drink. The very lovely Gina Birch (ex-Raincoats) affords me and Jon an introduction to Chan upstairs, and because we're drunk and Jon is in love and we're sticklers for hedonism, we end up going back to Chan's hotel with her, the Columbia. There she sings Portishead and Blur songs to us, reveals her true name, and Jon drops his book where he keeps her photo. Real charmers both; Chan buys all our drinks, pays for our taxis, listens to our drunken ramblings and stays up way past her bedtime and the boredom thresh-hold. The following morning, in two different cities, we both phone her within five minutes of each other to apologise. © Everett True 2000 |
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