
Being contrary sorts, while everyone else is Twittering away 20 times a day we prefer to post occasional but quite long blogs. They’re usually written by Andrew, who, believe it or not, spends most of his days writing for money.
In theory there’s supposed to be a new one every Sunday but life usually gets in the way. Keep checking back though, or read some of the older entries if you’re really bored.
I realised the other day that I love Dawn of the Dead and Titanic for much the same reason. This is not a joke.
I’ve been slightly distracted from the album release lately, having been at the Edinburgh festival pretty much solidly for three weeks. The festival does that to you - it is an enormous bubble, sealed off from the outside world. This is partly because it feels like the whole world is in Edinburgh, so that stepping outside it would feel like stepping into space.
In the top 100 ‘most horrible ideologies ever’ chart, rockism probably wouldn’t be in the top ten, alongside fascism. I don’t think I’d be prepared to go to prison in protest against it (not that this would happen anyway). But it really does make me cross sometimes.
I’ve always loved beaches. They fill me with a very strange mix of tranquillity (all that sand, and gentle lapping waves, and vast amounts of sky) and existential terror (it’s like staring into the face of infinity, looking out at the sea, even if the rational part of you knows that Ireland or somewhere is just over the horizon).
On Saturday morning, I suddenly realised I was going to miss the whole of Live Earth. There was a moment of mild regret. Then I read a description of the running order. “Black Eyed Peas introduced by June Sarpong.” “Damien Rice and David Gray introduced by Boris Becker.” Wow, I thought. The end of the world can’t come soon enough, really, can it?
I’ll get on to talking about our song The Fakester Genocide in a minute. First, though, a bit about a recent fakester murder. Wasn’t the JT LeRoy trial fascinating?
The next few blogs on this site are going to explain what the 11 songs on our album, The Regional Variations, are about. I know, isn’t it exciting? This one is about Drowning Nightmare 1. Sort of. Be warned: lengthy tangent approaching. Let’s begin. At a show we played at Metro in London last year, I got talking to a woman in the audience who seemed very surprised and disappointed to discover Hamish and I are not lovers…
I read the NME today, for the first time in a while, curious as to whether it was worth Ash, our PR person, sending them a copy of the album. Clearly we’re not going to turn down publicity from anyone (we are not idiots) but it really made me cross, as the NME generally does.
Back when we released our first single - a CD, which we spent much time and more money than was probably sensible or necessary packaging as beautifully as possible - I couldn’t help noticing how many people were suddenly predicting the imminent demise of the CD single.
I had a dream about OMD the other night. I’m walking through town with Andy McCluskey and someone like Janet Street Porter. Andy is explaining why he went from making landmark experimental pop albums like Architecture & Morality and Dazzleships to writing gloopy, predictable ballads for Atomic Kitten. To illustrate the different direction his life could have gone in, he takes us to Billy Childish’s house…