I’m lucky. As a writer and section editor at Melody Maker I’ve had the best job in the world. You get kind of used to all the free stuff. Piles of CDs every morning, guestlist every night. Terrible life.
When I left the music press and moved out of London in 2003, I was not unsurprised to never hear from 95 per cent of the music industry people I dealt with on an almost daily basis for eight years. You could almost hear the address books opening and my name being crossed out as the removals van crossed the M25.
Times change, people move on. Ho hum. I continued to write about music, but the kind of jobs I was getting were becoming less and less interesting. It didn’t seem to me that I was actually writing about music any more. I was just plugging holes in website dykes. So I gave up. Did something else.
During Xmas 2007 I started to miss writing about music. I’m no great shake, but I do have a decent pair of ears. You can’t not when you’ve spent every day for years listening to pretty much everything released and seeing every live band going. I didn’t have the freebies, because I didn’t have the job title anymore.
But what if, what if you could actually be a music journalist without all that? You find your own bands, pay for your own gigs, buy your own records, dig out all the great stuff in the backroom that sank without trace. Conscience clear, no favours, no politics, no deadlines, just me and you and some really decent music.
You know what? You can.
Welcome to mynewfavouriteband.com.