There’s a particular kind of happiness that comes from having done something irreversible1. By the middle of September 2007 all four of us had handed in our notice - we were soon to be full time and, dare I say it - professional musicians. The American tour had stopped being a ‘could happen’ and was now a ‘will happen’, which is the best kind of happen and lifted our spirits:
13.09.07
Myspace friends: 8148
“Everyone’s much happier now, as all our great gigs and American trip looms closer, and may actually happen! (apparently Elizabeth is just sorting out the tickets…)
Alex was especially chirpy at last rehearsal as he’s left his job and is free!”
Alex had gone first. His last day is recorded not with fanfare but with a very specific domestic worry:
07.09.07
Myspace friends: 8111
“Alex’s last day at work today, and he’s very happy about it. Spoke to Tom last night who was worried that Alex would need to be motivated now to avoid having him sitting around the house all day in his underpants. Nothing wrong with that as far as I can see.”
The rest of us were still counting down the days until freedom. In an email that week, I was keen to remind everyone: “We’ve also got just 13 more working days before leaving jobs.”
A week or so earlier, we’d played The Pressure Point2 in Brighton, my home town, more or less, and The Argus had run a feature to preview it, written by their entertainments reporter, Bella Todd. The diary from the day before the gig had been almost unbearably pleased about the whole thing:
22.08.07
“There’s a great write up in The Argus down in Brighton where I’m from. The journalist rang me for a chat which was nice, and she said she’d much rather write about us than Alison Moyet, whom she’d interviewed the day before!”
She began by pointing out that, in a parallel universe, she could have been trying to interest her readers in a band called Hamster Chairs who wore baggy purple jeans.
“It’s all sliding doors,” laughs frontman Nigel. “The name came about because we’d spent the whole morning arguing about band names — Hamster Chairs wasn’t even the worst — so we took a break and went for a walk. I looked up and on the side of the terraced house where I lived there was this 6ft metal fox stapled to the wall.”
“But that wasn’t even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was I’d never noticed it before. So we took it as an omen and called ourselves The Foxes.”
She went on to explain the white jackets, the survivors of “a long line of ill-fated attempts to find eye-catching matching stage clobber,” which had ended only when we found four identical ones somewhere in Camden. My contribution to that section of the article was a philosophy of live performance I still stand by:
“You’ve got to have a look haven’t you,” Nigel observes. “You’ve got to put on a show.”
And then the origin story, compressed into a single sentence that made a year of chaos sound like a plan:
“We just want to be a really entertaining band that make people happy,” says Nigel, who decided to form the group with bassist Al when they met at a Supergrass gig, and auditioned 70 guitarists before he found a suitably talented candidate in Steve Vai fan Jonno. “We don’t want to make three-chord Status Quo music but on the other hand we’re not quite ready for our Kid A stage.”
Seventy guitarists. I slightly3 exaggerated. There was also, in the article, a detail about the American woman, the one who’d flown to the UK to catch a single gig, and the packs of T-shirts and signed photos I’d been posting to fanclubs in Brazil and Austria, and a line noting we were “currently being sized up by scouts from EMI and Sony BMG.” All true. And then, right at the end, the quote I’d least expected to see in print, in which I picked a fight with a much more famous band:
“I think we do stand out,” says Nigel. “We spend so much time working on every song, tearing it all apart and putting it back together again, and we always rehearse twice a week. I’ve never understood bands like Babyshambles who don’t do that. Getting the music right — that’s what our attitude is all about.”
Oh yes, I was confident, I’ll give myself that.
The gig itself went, in my own contemporary assessment, “down a storm,” and a few days later I wrote to Bella to say thank you:
From: Nigel Thomas (nigeljthomas**@****.co.uk) Sent: 31 August 2007 12:51 To: bella.todd@theargus.co.uk Subject: Argus preview
Dear Bella,
Hi, it’s Nigel from The Foxes. I thought I’d just write and say thank you for giving us such a fantastic write-up in The Argus last week. Your article had made sense of my rambling responses to your questions, and it was a funny and engaging piece! If you’d ever like to come and see us live, you only have to ask and I’ll put you and your friends on the guest list! (this offer stands when we’re playing Wembley too by the way!)
She replied the same afternoon:
From: Bella Todd (bella.todd@theargus.co.uk) Sent: Friday, 31 August 2007 2:20 PM Subject: RE: Argus preview
No worries, really glad gig went well and sorry couldn’t make it. do get in touch if you’re gigging down here again x
This offer stands when we’re playing Wembley too. I want to be clear that I meant it entirely sincerely.
Meanwhile America kept getting more real, and more absurd, one booking at a time.
07.09.07
“American gigs coming on nicely! Just booked a gig in New York at the aptly titled “OTTO’S SHRUNKEN HEAD4” – bizarrely, the booking details included the information that we’d be given “a fried chicken meal” and also that amps would be provided, although we may need to supply “the brains.” Fuck knows what they’re on about!
Which reminds me, I must remember to pack the larger of my shrimping nets for America.”
That last line has a footnote in the diary that just reads: “A ‘Blackadder’ quote.”
The gig the night before had been a good one, and it had been watched by an old friend of this story:
07.09.07
“Very good gig last night, though it wasn’t very busy. Chris Welch was there and seemed really impressed with how much progress we’d made, and how much better we sounded. Need to call him soon to arrange a beer he said. He’s also giving us his American contacts.”
It was the second time Chris had watched us at The Purple Turtle in Camden and he was impressed and handing over his American address book, which is exactly the kind of thing that made the whole plan feel underwritten by people who knew better than us.
The other thing I was doing that fortnight was, frankly, hustling — working every angle for a mention, because I’d worked out that radio could, in fact, be FREE, a price I was willing to pay.
13.09.07
“I got us a mention on Chris Hawking’s5 radio show on BBC 6 Music this morning. They were doing dedications for all the songs…I wasn’t going to bother to text in until he said they had one more slot left, so I sent a message asking him to play a song for my band The Foxes as we’re all leaving our jobs in 2 weeks and going to tour America so could do with the boost….he read it all out, before and after the song! I was quite amazed! All good free publicity. I managed this before when I called up Chris Evans on a Friday and asked for “Reelin’ in the Years” by Steely Dan to be played and managed to drop in The Foxes when we had our on-air chat. Got to do this more!! Maybe target Chris Moyles with dounuts?! Still annoyed Steve Lamacq hasn’t played us after physically giving him a copy.”
I can’t properly describe the joy it gave to hear a DJ on a radio station simply mention the NAME of our band, even if they didn’t play our music (which he didn’t). It would work again on Radio 2 the following year in a much bigger way. I’m STILL annoyed at Steve Lamacq, but there’s still time for him to make amends and I’m always on the lookout for him.6
Two weeks to go. America and joblessness were calling. Thirteen working days, then twelve, then fewer7. Weirdly enough, I remember always thinking previously that when I was in a position to leave my day job, I would just sit somewhere and cry with joy, but I didn’t ever do that. Money worries and wondering if we’d survive put a slight crimp on it - but only slight. Things really were only just getting started…
Next week: we discover that Scottish audiences are generally better than English ones, another packed Borderline gig hours before flying to the lovely Channel Island of Jersey and an EPIC argument conducted entirely by email nearly causes the end of everything.
Formerly ‘The Richmond’ where I played in 1998 with my school band. Now closed of course.
Gloriously, this venue is still open in New York.
Of course, I meant ‘Chris Hawkins’ who I’m pleased to say is still doing great work on BBC 6 Music.
Not in a stalker kind of way. Honest.
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