“I am none of the following, but have been described variously as: the pioneer of, the godfather of, the man who invented, the butcher of, and the forgotten man of Britpop (1990s version). Let’s not get too bogged down in tracing the lineage any further back. It’s never cost-effective and always leads back to a caveman banging a rock with the tusk of a woolly mammoth.”
Luke Haines was never really a part of Britpop. The Auteurs were a band on the outskirts of that scene, who predated most of the nonsense associated with those acts. He’s a brilliantly acerbic, extremely witty narrator (I read both of his books twice) and most of what he has to say about his contemporaries is not very complimentary:
“The full idiocy of the era has yet to be felt. But I already loathe the brashness, the vicars-and-tarts-forced-jollity of the Blur–Elastica alliance. The head boy and head girl appear to be doing rather well for themselves. I had more of a Carrie-style ending in mind for the nauseating couple.”
He reserves particular dislike for Suede. “The Auteurs are European, intense and intellectual,” he states. “Suede are a quick fix. Baked beans and sulphate. Brett’s pseudo-bumboy androgyny is more Grange Hill than Bowie.” He keeps coming back to them, too: “I’ve heard their single and I know I can outwrite them. Brett’s got a few good lines and knows there’s a bit of mileage to be had in writing lyrics about ‘retards’ and ‘dads’, but overall they’re just a little too reliant on the old wasted-glamour-in-council-estates routine.” He also has a bash at The The, who he toured and fell out with.
Haines depicts the rise and fall of The Auteurs, not shying away from his own self-destructive role in their ups and downs. By the sounds of it, they were never a “proper” band in the old-fashioned “gang of mates against the world” sense of the word. The bassist was his girlfriend and the cellist irritated Haines so much that he refuses to call him anything other than “The Cellist” throughout the text.
The book concludes with a happy ending of sorts – the formation of a second group, Black Box Recorder.
A savage satire on 1990s culture, Bad Vibes is hugely entertaining.
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