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Around one thousand years ago, I was a big fan of a band called My Life Story. It was during the year 1996, when Britannia was on the verge of becoming popular and everything in Camden was considered cool, even a poorly done piercing that ended up getting infected. But despite all that, the band was great. They were clever, flashy, and self-aware, and they didn’t care about being too pretentious. Their music was melodic and they didn’t worry about the fact that having a 12-piece orchestra made it difficult to make money.
In retrospect, they came close to achieving success on numerous occasions – their first album, “Mornington Crescent,” reached number 2 on the independent chart in 1995, although the significance of this may have been unclear. They also joined Parlophone the following year, a label favored by trendy individuals.
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.
I used to have a music column in the Evening Standard. I put in a lot of effort trying to convince London that My Life Story was not just a cheap version of Divine Comedy, but rather more high-end. Unfortunately, my efforts fell on deaf ears and the band disbanded in 2000. However, the frontman, Jake Shillingford, pursued a solo career.
In 2017, they came back together to perform at a Britpop festival, followed by a crowdfunded album in 2019. Most recently, on Saturday, they had a show at the small 100 club in the heart of London. The audience of around 200 consisted entirely of devoted fans.
It was as if someone extremely wealthy had hired Beyoncé to perform at his birthday celebration simply because he could, but none of the attendees were actually billionaires. This conveys the approximate tone of the event – a mix of astonishment at being in the presence of an idol and a carefree sense of belonging. The ceremony included a couple walking down the aisle to the tune of “You Can’t Uneat the Apple,” a surprisingly unromantic choice, but to each their own. Shillingford even sold his own merchandise at the conclusion of the event. Imagine a concert in the days before music was a prominent industry, when a group of people gathered in a room and knew all the lyrics, but only one had a microphone.
If nobody paid attention to me three decades ago, it’s unlikely they will now, so I’ll simply say this: I highly recommend My Life Story.
Source: theguardian.com
