Mercury in Retrograde

My 2009 Mercury Music Award Experience

UNDER REPAIR

Jools Holland: The winner of the 2009 Barclaycard Mercury prize… for lovely album… is [clears throat and pauses]…

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Wait. Our band name starts with that sound.

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No… No fucking way. They’re not going to pick a band who keep getting mistaken for their own roadies by the TV crew at the Grosvenor House Hotel in London, although - in truth - technically, we are always our own roadies. That being a fact, it’s probably good that the producers didn’t let us bring the B-flat dishwasher used in the recording, along for our performance of Kalypso.

In contrast, Kasabian managed to soundcheck without being there at all. They also had lava running down the stage wall behind them, thanks to some amazing lighting design. I think we had some fairy lights, but thankfully we didn’t have to untangle them.

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Oh god oh god oh god… Relax: re [deep breath] laaaaax. I did enjoy Led Bib’s soundcheck. A worried looking woman with headphone mic and a stopwatch, gently pushing and pulling the thunderous free improvisers into their allotted four minutes.

And that hug from Natasha / Bat For Lashes before we went on was a lovely moment, as was a post-soundcheck visit to the Blue Peter Garden. #PETRA4EVA.

L-R: David (keys); Me; Alistair (drums); Anthony (bass / vocs)

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Oh shit ! THIS IS HAPPENING. What face do I need to prepare ? Unsurprised / cool ? No, too cocky. Tearful / grateful ? Tricky without any recently departed relatives to dedicate our award to, thankfully. How about ‘thirty-something man, live on TV, two seconds after a hornet flies up his t-shirt’ ? That’ll have to do. Might have to combine it with ‘two whiskies and fifteen years past Indie band cool’ and ‘is that Noel Fielding on the table next to ours ?’ but I reckon I can pull this off.

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Is there spinach stuck in my teeth ? I’m not sure I’ve eaten any spinach, but I bet it’s there - waiting for the cameras. I’m going to be ‘Green-toothed Mercury Winner, Tim Elsenburg’ from this day forwards.

Dave Grohl: YEAH ! SPINACH-GRINNIN’ MERCURY GUY !

(minus the spinach-referencing, this did actually happen backstage at Reading 2010)

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Quick sip. Don’t spill your drink. Don’t spill your drink. Don’t spill your drink. And if you do - not into your groin. Early-onset incontinence is not a good look for the cool-as-fuck victory stroll to the stage.

You know, now I come to think of it, it was weird climbing into a stretch limo to drive 50 yards across the road to the red carpet, before the driver went back around the block to pick up Glasvegas. Not quite as weird as drummer Al answering Newsround’s question on the red carpet, ‘Who would play Tim in a biopic about the band ?’ with an immediate ‘Stephen Merchant,’ though.

He didn’t pause. Not for a second.

Tim is alone in ignoring the flasher hidden amongst the photographers on the red carpet.

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OK. I’m ready now. Let’s do this. Oh hang on. I’m forgetting something aren’t I. There’s another nominee that starts with an ‘S’. Who is it again ? I’m so flustered. Got it ! It’s…

SSSSSSSSSpeech Debelle !

OH, FOR FU_____

[camera operator crouches by our table and points his lens at us]

[confused smile; blinking eyes; over-fast nervous clapping; my own head doing the post-speedbump, parcel-shelf dog-nod; ‘whoo-ing’ like a confused owl; mentally unsigning Noel Fielding’s bare chest and returning an already purchased Gibson Flying V to its imaginary guitar shop]

“…Stephen Merchant, apparently.”

Note: To be clear, just being nominated for a Mercury award is an amazing experience for any band, so huge congratulations to Ezra Collective for their well-deserved win. Personally, I had everything crossed for Lankum, but this is still a brilliant result.

Does a nomination change anything ? Well, in practical terms, not that much - for us anyway. A sales surge for the week following the announcement, and then another brief burst of purchases following the ceremony, but even a 500% increase in not very much, amounts to… not very much. But that’s not really what it’s about.

What it has done over the years is to ensure that when we’re asking for something, or trying to get a foot in the door somewhere interesting, it’s a bit easier to convince people that we’re not a bunch of dads getting together on a Sunday to play Jumping Jack Flash (not that there’s anything wrong with that, obvs), so that it’s become a tremendously useful calling card, albeit one that doesn’t fit easily into a wallet.

At my lowest ebb, a few weeks back (documented here), I accidentally knocked the trophy off the shelf and it missed my right foot by nanometres. A couple of the long pins surrounding the central shaft fell off, and it all felt too much like a terrible metaphor for a career in music, so I cleaned it up, glued it all back together and made the conscious decision to ignore any ill-omens.

I mention this just in case, in the coming weeks, you read about Mercury-nominated songwriter Tim Elsenburg being trampled to death by a stampeding Salvation Army band while bending down to pick up a discarded plectrum outside a music shop, while listening to Speech Debelle on headphones.