Shimura Curves

Friday, March 17, 2006

Wig Wam (not Welsh Folk version)

Errrr... blimey. Seldom has a band made me doubt my sexuality so thoroughly. Do I want to sleep with one of them? Or *be* one of them? Or both with both? I'm confused and need to lie down. I have yet to hear a note of the song, but have no doubt in its brilliance, even if it is conceptual brilliance.

However, it's funny that they're called Wigwam. Frances (ex-Shimura) used to be in a Welsh Folk band called Wigwam, that I panned so thoroughly in a long-forgotten review (What did they expect? They were playing a spacerock night! They were not spacerock or dronerock!) that she nearly never spoke to me. Until we met properly, DJ-ing at a Careless Talk night when no one else was sober enough to find the decks, let alone DJ. But that's another story.

This is about Alex James. Who I've had a massive crush on since the first time I even heard Blur. Which was, coincidentally, in a parking lot of a supermarket in Manchester, Vermont, sitting on the bonnet of my mother's car with Dare, in the midst of a mad amphetamine-induced quest to find the Dreaming Spire From The World Of Death (also known as the WEQX radio transmitter). The song was Bang and it was a deary, bell-end of baggy shuffle, but it featured the most manic, rolling, disco BASS I'd heard since Bauhaus (or possibly even Duran Duran). I was in love.

And then I actually read some interviews with Alex, and he was fond of lapsing surreal about French cheese and Andre Gide novels and astronomy and particle physics, and wrote songs about Planets. I invented a fake fanclub, called the AJSAS, based in equal parts on female hysteria and 18th Century Secret Societies. We spanned the globe, disrupting Blur concerts with chants of "Tabitha's Island!" I even wrote (oh the shame) a Fan Fiction epic (The Deep Field/Loving In A World Of Desire) which ran for about 5 years and chalked up something like 100,000 readers in that time.

Alex collaborated with Damien Hirst, sent probes to Mars, learned to fly a plane (you all know the story about how my desire to fly a plane turned me into a programmer) and now he lives in a country manor and writes columns for Country Life. Oh yeah, and he does all this while maintaining the best haircut in pop. In short, he IS MY IDEAL MAN!!!!

This had a point at some time, but now I can't remember it.

Oh yeah, something about how I thought I had totally lost interest in sex, and men, and relationships, and all that rubbish. But not, perhaps, while Alex James exists. Swoon.


At 9:26 PM GMT, Blogger Catty said...

Um, I was hazed into the AJSAS. Don't tell me that was all for NOTHING!!

At 10:34 AM GMT, Blogger Archel said...

That picture alone rekindled MY Alex James crush... sigh.

At 11:23 AM GMT, Blogger Masonic Boom said...

You were not hazed! You begged e.Beth and I to let you in, even offered to carry our books home from school until we had to make up some arcane ritual involving drinking brandy in the Lakeside Lounge and reciting the table of elements or... erm, something. I can't remember, but then again, I can't remember most of my early 20s.

At 3:23 PM GMT, Blogger Catty said...

I didn't beg – I was told to carry your books! And you made me answer questions, including what is a tesseract (my answer, a television set, came to me in a dream) and which Gide book are you reading etc AND as part of this "made up" arcane ritual, I had to write Alex James Fan Fiction and shout TABITHA'S ISLAND at all Blur shows.
It wasn't just a vicodin haze.


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