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Around one thousand years ago, I was deeply interested in a musical group known as My Life Story. It was the year 1996: British culture was on the rise and anything that happened in the Camden area was considered hip, even a poorly done piercing that quickly became infected. But My Life Story was different – they were talented and charming, self-aware and a bit pretentious. Their music was incredibly melodic and they didn’t care about the fact that having a 12-piece orchestra was not a practical way to make money.
In retrospect, they came close to achieving success multiple times. Their first album, Mornington Crescent, reached No 2 on the indie chart in 1995, though the significance of this was unclear. The following year, they joined Parlophone, a popular label amongst trendy people.
It never really felt as if they were on a one-way trip to the big time, however. Not only were they not particularly famous, but they weren’t even the most famous band with way too many instruments.
During my time at the Evening Standard, I had a column dedicated to music. I invested a significant amount of effort into convincing London that My Life Story was not a lesser version of Divine Comedy, but rather a more sophisticated and high-class alternative. Unfortunately, my efforts were in vain as the band disbanded in 2000. However, their lead singer Jake Shillingford pursued a solo career.
(“In 2017, they reunited for a Britpop festival and in 2019, they released an album through crowdfunding. Most recently, on Saturday, they performed at the intimate 100 club in central London, where the 200 attendees were all dedicated fans of the band.”)
It felt similar to if a person with a great amount of money hired Beyoncé to perform at their birthday celebration, solely because they have the means to do so. However, in this situation, there were no wealthy individuals present. This gives a glimpse into the atmosphere: astonishment at being in such close proximity to an idol, mixed with a daring sense of belonging. One pair even chose to walk down the aisle to the unconventional and unromantic song, “You Can’t Uneat the Apple.” Shillingford was selling his own merchandise at the end of the event. It was like attending a concert before music became a commercialized industry. It was simply a gathering of people who happened to know all the songs, but only one had a microphone.
If my advice was ignored 30 years ago, it surely will be now, so I’ll simply state that “My Life Story” is a highly recommended read.
Source: theguardian.com
