It’s only when I play the interview back later that I realise that at one point, while Damon is talking, Alex is mumbling French in the background. Blur only came off-stage half an hour ago, but Alex already seems a little distracted. “The queen drinks it,” he says, knowingly. He waves a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne around nonchalantly. ![]() “I love the hype that you get in these things I do enjoy reading them,” he says with a sigh. ![]() With his lanky frame sprawled elegantly over the table, cheekbones almost touching the page of the Féile programme that features a potted history of Blur (he must be short-sighted poor lamb) he gurgles delightedly about how fond he is of enthusiastic band profiles. “We’ve got twelve hours off,” he announces happily. A woman old enough to know better sits down next to us mid-interview, introduces herself to Damon and Alex – though not, unsurprisingly, to me – and it takes Damon pointing out me and the tape recorder as evidence of an interview taking place to interrupt her stream of praise.Īlex is looking particularly relaxed this afternoon. People I know, people I respect, people I drink with on a regular basis, have developed a worrying tendency to display all the hallmarks of juvenile madness – the kind of symptoms usually left behind when you cancel your subscription to Smash Hits – whenever Blur crop up in conversation. It’s pathetic but true that 1994-model Blur have the power to provoke the most extraordinary responses. ![]() I didn’t share Lara's urges to go forth and reproduce at the prospect of being in a room with Damon and bassist Alex James, but I admit I did go around with a big, shit-eating grin on my face for the day. Backstage at Féile, there are girls and boys lingering hopefully around Damon Albarn. Lara from Greystones would like it to be known that she would appreciate the opportunity to “have Damon's beautiful babies.” Originally published in Hot Press in 1994.
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