Bit of a Blur: The Autobiography

Bit of a Blur: The Autobiography

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0316027588

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

For Alex James, music had always been a door to a more exciting life—a way to travel, meet new people, and, hopefully, pick up girls. But as bass player of Blur—one of the most successful British bands of all time—his journey was more exciting and extreme than he could ever have predicted. Success catapulted him from a slug-infested squat in Camberwell to a world of private jets and world-class restaurants. As "the second drunkest member of the world’s drunkest band" Alex James's life was always chaotic, but he retained a boundless enthusiasm and curiosity at odds with his hedonistic lifestyle. From nights in the Groucho with Damien Hirst, to dancing to Sister Sledge with Björk, to being bitten on the nose by the lead singer of Iron Maiden, he offers a fascinating and hilarious insight into the world of celebrity. At its heart, however, this is the picaresque tale of one man’s search to find meaning and happiness in an increasingly surreal world. Pleasingly unrepentant but nonetheless a reformed man, Alex James is the perfect chronicler of his generation—witty, frank and brimming with joie de vivre. A Bit of a Blur is as charming, funny, and deliciously disreputable as its author.


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things. There are your thoughts, which you are constantly expressing in your music, and being probed about by journalists and presenters. There are your clothes, which have to say who you are, too. Hair is cheap but hard to get right. You have to be able to think of things to say that are worth repeating, or at least repeat things that are worth repeating. You’ve got to be able to play an instrument, or sing, if you want to get any satisfaction out of it. You need to enjoy travelling, because

next to him and pinch him when he looked sleepy. Being on tour is a hard feeling to explain or even remember, a gale of constant accelerations and stimulations and no time to dwell on anything. All our petty wishes were granted - sex on tap, bars that never closed and where we didn’t have to worry too much about the bill. It was a constantly unfolding escapade. I loved it, but I felt crap the majority of the time. The part of my brain that makes sense of everything was having a great time, but

model, and went back to her warehouse in SoHo. She was on the cover of Vogue. It was on the coffee table. Another one-night stand. It wasn’t like I pursued these women. It was suddenly as simple as not resisting. Still, I was more than willing and it was the same act of betrayal. There were so many reasons to say yes and only one reason to say no, and she was an ocean away. When I woke up it was gone breakfast time and I scarpered back to the hotel. The manager was waiting outside the door. He

turning up in the Sunday newspapers. We’d all suffered a bit from tabloid shame. Graham was going through a phase of getting run over by cars. Damon’s ex-girlfriend, who he’d once written a sickly, sentimental ballad about, sold her story to one of the more ghastly newspapers. She looked small and plain in the photograph, not like in the song. The stories came thick and fast. One tabloid had me dating Helena Christensen. According to the front page of the Daily Sport I was involved in a

something irrational, it usually turned out that he was slightly more worried about something slightly further fetched. I worried about a lot of things. Unsupportable anxiety was commonplace, especially in the mornings, when the gross misconduct of the night before came flooding back. Despite all our triumphs and conquests we all worried and felt just as hopeless and stupid as everybody else. All four of us drove each other into rages occasionally but we all wore each other’s company well,

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