January 13, 1999
Manchester Night & Day
"Fresh from supporting Jean-Michel Jarre," the compere bellows, "it's [a]Badly Drawn Boy[/a]!" [B]Gough[/B] drags out an acoustic guitar and starts to play songs that can only be described as 'ditti
The young man reportedly worth '300,000 lights a fat cigar and then stubs it out. Clearly, Damon Gough has money to burn. Probably doesn't even smoke. Still, it looks like fun, and fun is the operative word tonight. Or that's the plan.
You join us in a pub in Manchester where the city's most promising cottage industry, Twisted Nerve Records, has decided to charge New Year revellers an unfestive '16 to watch two of its discoveries shine like stars.
Of course, the main reason most are here is for Gough's alter ego, Badly Drawn Boy. There have been gigs in the past, sure, but all were either conceptual cobblers or strings of esoteric one-liners delivered by one man and his Bontempi organ. He likes a joke does Damon, but you get the feeling that his new employers, XL Recordings, who apparently shelled out '300,000 for the Mancunian wonder kid, won't always see the funny side. Moreover, with only three infuriatingly limited singles to date, most people haven't even had a chance to believe the Boy's impressive hype.
Before Badly Drawn Boy is joined by his 'showbiz pals', the excellent Doves, though, we must negotiate the pre-midnight musings of Dakota Oak Trio, three men with Mogwai on the mind and a murmured appreciation of Labradford. Not strictly party music, but you can't argue with the noisy indulgence of 'Hell Exit Fuck'. So - how do you say? - 1998.
"Fresh from supporting Jean-Michel Jarre," the compere bellows, "it's Badly Drawn Boy!" Gough drags out an acoustic guitar and starts to play songs that can only be described as 'ditties'. "I bumped into a hypochondriac downstairs. Made me sick, his attitude," he quips before the sweet strum of 'Jewel Thief'. Brilliant - and the tune's not bad either. It gets better. Damon and Doves play a delightfully sloppy version of The Smiths' 'Oscillate Wildly', as if he's accepted his fate as, y'know, The New Smiths or as some other tenuous appendage of Manchester's colourful rock family tree.
We leave Badly Drawn Boy in his rightful place: standing on top of a monitor during the beat shuffle of 'Disillusion', axe in hand, howling at the New Year moon. It's still wilfully, stubbornly incompetent, but at least now he's trying to get it right. Because from now on, even in his beloved Manchester, he can't afford to mess around.
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