An Introduction
This is A Certain Romance. An inside account of an aspiring author trying to get his first (and possibly only) book published.
Having written and moulded over 160,000 words to form a manuscript, writing about writing a book feels a little odd. Make no mistake, there is a book that is more than ready to be released. In fact, it already is out there as a 480-odd page pdf file. Certain friends have a copy, so do certain literary agents but not yet a publisher. That's the main reason for this publication, to introduce a book that you cannot go out and buy. Not yet anyway.
There are comparable titles out there which gives me a reason to believe that a potential audience exists for mine. One is 'Meet Me In The Bathroom: Rebirth and Rock and Roll in New York City 2001-2011' by Elizabeth Goodman. You could even argue that Goodman's book works as a precursor, or even a prelude, to my book.
While my book is not entirely an oral history, both myself and Goodman have used quotes from active participants. I spoke to around 50 individuals who I felt would offer insight into the New Yorkshire Wave. How it began, why it progressed, and how it ended. Using the testimony of others offers non-fiction a sense of authority and authenticity. I had my one singular account from the records I bought, the club nights I attended, and the gigs I went to. The main appeal of the book is through collecting other accounts I can create a rich tapestry from which to explain it all, warts an’ all.
Genesis
Back in September 2018, Arctic Monkeys were touring the UK to promote their six album, Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino. Me and my good friend Tom saw them at Sheffield Arena, the first time we'd seen the band together since 2007. We reminisced about those early days when Sheffield seemed like the epicentre of the cultural world. As if we were living in New York City and great bands simply emerged every few months or so. What an exciting time it was.
From 2005, I was part of an outer inner circle to Arctic Monkeys themselves. Not so much AAA passes but certainly closer than a lot of fans. I was known to the band's mates and even their family. A few months before their debut album was released, I had exchanged numbers with the drummer's Mum which granted me some insider access. Most of the time this meant catching up over a coffee or sending football score updates as Jill and her husband, Clive, were watching the band while something like the World Cup Final was on.
On the odd occasion, I would be entrusted with precious updates that even the press were not aware of. February 2007 marked six months since the band had been on hiatus from August Bank Holiday 2006 when they were second on the bill at Reading and Leeds Festival. The previous 12 months had been a whirlwind of number one singles, a record-breaking album, and worldwide tours but they were yet to hit headliner status. Part of me worried that the band were a flash in the pan and that the media and record-buying public would have had enough. When it became their time to re-emerge with the follow-up album, a string of secret gigs had been announced to road-test new material. I was entrusted with knowing the location and the date of their homecoming gig and I trusted Tom with the news.
After their gig in September 2018, I went home and wrote down all I could remember from those halcyon days. How huge the local music scene became in such a short space of time. I had no explanation for it back then, no real context, and no insight to rely on. The book is an attempt at that, not just to reminisce but to try to explain. I had only seen it at close quarters so I had to draw myself back and speak to other people. Especially those in Leeds.
A Set Of Special Bands
Those were the good old days, now Arctic Monkeys are truly an arena band and it felt like we'd given them up to everybody else. As I looked back, I was surprised at just how much detail I remembered from those days. How Arctic Monkeys had emerged from the pack when it could have been Milburn, The Long Blondes, or Harrisons. How Leeds’ music scene had arguably already peaked when the Kaiser Chiefs and The Cribs emerged. There was no competition between the bands but there was certainly a sense of healthy rivalry as each one battled for their time in the spotlight.
How those bands became as big as they did was largely down to the music scene around them. Sure, they have to generate their own hype through their own songs yet showcasing them was made a lot easier. Club nights showcased their genres of music before these bands emerged, keeping the burning embers of indie music alive. Venues allowed them a stage on which to perform and hone their sets. Record labels and recording studios offered them an avenue into getting their music out there without breaking the bank.
Each band had their own story, their own journey, and their own set of loyal fans. You could enjoy the music of each one yet there was a fervour when each of them performed onstage. A belief that each band was destined for greatness yet, as it turned out, only one of them was.
Finding The Time
I put some words down about those days and how exciting they were then simply left them on my laptop for 18 months. That's when the COVID-19 pandemic happened and suddenly I had a lot of free time on my hands. While many were furloughed from their jobs, I had only recently gone freelance as a copywriter while working a couple of days a week at a Sheffield-based energy company. Instead of going full-time, I decided that I'd stick it out to see how far I could push writing freelance for a living on a part-time basis.
That was a mistake. Marketing budgets had been decimated to the extent that few businesses saw a point in advertising during a global pandemic. The yoga retreat closed, the travel writing ended, and there was no point writing about Irish bars when none of them were open. With so much spare time, I invested in a few books and one of them was 'Meet Me In The Bathroom'.
The book took me straight back to my youth. Of reading about The Strokes, Le Tigre, Moldy Peaches and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in NME Magazine. If anyone can cast their mind back to the British music scene of the early Noughties, they should recall how bleak it was. Britpop had ended, the New Acoustic Movement had moved in while American Grunge, R 'N' B, and Rap-Rock were threatening to dominate.
Then 'The Modern Age' EP emerged and there was a glimmer of hope. Sure, it was from the same side of the pond yet The Strokes were seen as saviors. They looked cool, they sounded cool, even their names were cool. Julian Casablancas, Albert Hammond Jr, Nick Valensi, Fabrizio Moretti, and Nikolai Fraiture. The British music scene changed tack and people picked up electric guitars.
Little did I know that individuals in the cities of Sheffield and Leeds were inspired too. Alex Turner and Jamie Cook of Arctic Monkeys got guitars, the Carnall Brothers from Milburn decided to form a band. Harrisons emerged from the same Northern Sheffield postcode of S35 and The Long Blondes formed after Dorian Cox saw Kate Jackson spinning Le Tigre at a Sheffield club. She could sing, she could also dominate a stage looking immaculate in tights, a skirt, and a beret.
In Leeds, those same American bands had helped The Cribs to work out their own guitar-wielding futures after hearing that EP. They were joined by Kaiser Chiefs, Black Wire, The Sunshine Underground and others. Club nights were formed to exchange ideas and a music scene began at roughly the same time as the one in Sheffield. The Americans didn’t know it but they had started something in Yorkshire.
Long before I saw them all onstage, the New Yorkshire Wave had begun. Arguably, the seeds had been sown back in 1997, it reached its peak in 2006 and had ended around 2009. My book looks to chronicle those 12 years through the words of those who were there.