For the past two years, and based on feedback I’ve got from the wee daft stories I’ve published on Medium, I’ve been writing an entire autobiography about my time in the mid-00s indie punk band We Are The Physics, called ‘You’re Doing It Wrong — My Life As A Failed International Rock Star (In The Best Band You’ve Never Heard)’.
Unbelievably, the kind folks at Last Night From Glasgow are going to publish it, and it’ll have a very limited physical run later this year. You can pre-order a copy here.
I’m astounded by the positive response I’ve received about this, it really does blow my mind given that we were such a largely ignored band and I have no cultural clout. I think, perhaps, that’s why this book is important — music memoirs are usually written by notable people, not those who didn’t ‘make it’, and yet there are thousands of hard working, jobbing bands travelling up and down the UK now, all with their own bazillion anecdotal tales of perpetual mediocrity and near-misses.
Sure, it’s exciting to read about conception of the bands we know and love, who inevitably went on to acclaim and, often, implosion — but what about those that didn’t go on to anything? Those who tried and failed, or those who continue to try, propped up by their passionless day jobs?
Venue closures up and down the country, the shrinking of avenues to success, and the gentrification of pop music in general, are all erasing the future stories and experiences of new artists and musicians, who used to be able to form a band with their pals, and somehow eke a living before the spotlight of fame found them. The brazilification between huge levels of mainstream popularity and gutter-tier toilet circuit bands increases every year, but there are also many artists who don’t want to ‘make it’ in a traditional sense. Those whose very existence is not judged by the barometer of success, but by how full it makes their hearts. Where are those stories? Why didn’t you mention any of that, Slash?
Unlike traditional music memoirs, this is less an ode to sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll, and more an ode to budget hotels, grim backstage boredom, and doing Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ on BBC Radio, but accidentally changing all the words so it’s just about a plastic bag.
Plus, it’s all told with a sense of wry, self-deprecatory Scottish charm. I hope. So, yeah, I think this book matters, and maybe you’ll think it matters too.
Some folks have been asking questions about it, so I thought I’d put together this exhaustive and continually updated list of answers that might convince you to part with your cash:
Q: Why would I read this? Who the fuck do you think you are?
A: It’s a great question, and I think I answered it above, I’m nobody. That’s why it’s a good book.
Q: Do I need to know anything about the band / music?
A: It’s probably better you don’t, to be honest. I wouldn’t say this is so much a music memoir as a story of imposter syndrome, failure shame, grief, and, mostly, being Glaswegian, which means all of that is delivered as comedy rather than tragedy. All you need to know is that it’s framed around being in a band in the 2000s. Which we all were at some point.
Q: Before I part with my King Charleses, what are the stories like?
A: I’ve published a few on Medium over the past couple of years, try them out.
Supersonic Balding
Do You Ever Feel Like A Plastic Bag?
Chair Songs
The Jurassic Park Dossier
Q: Will they be any different in the book?
A: Yes. Consider these stories as drafts of what they became in the book — they’re also written to be standalone, so they’ve been edited to make sense without the context of the rest of the story.
Q: Does it have a narrative arc?
A: While it’s not a story in the traditional sense, I’d say there’s a pretty obvious narrative arc, and several threads, that join it together. They’ll tell me what those are in my scathing Radio 4 review, I’m sure.
Q: What are all the options to buy?
A: At the moment, we have paperback and digital available to pre-order. If we receive enough orders, we may be able to release on hardback, as well as include photography / alternative covers etc. However, there would be no additional cost to those who pre-order now. So, effectively, you may get a full colour hardback for the price of a wee paperback.
Q: How many chapters are there?
A: Why don’t you just buy it, for fuck’s sake? Listen, all you need to know is there’s around 23 of these stories.
Q: Will there be an audiobook?
A: I’m trying to record one, but I keep having to stop because my belly is making noises. If anyone can help, please help (with the recording process, not my hunger).
Q: Will this be available on Amazon?
A: Eventually, I believe the ebook and audiobook will be available, but we’re trying to raise money for the physical print to begin with.
Q: Why is it limited?
A: Because printing books costs money, and we simply don’t know how many people would be interested in it, so if you’re able to pre-order, we can make sure you secure a copy and help with the printing costs.
Q: Will it be available in shops?
A: Right now, probably not. The hope here is that by showing the interest in book of this nature, a larger publisher will come on board and distribute this widely. But, what do I know?
Q: Will there be photos?
A: I’m positive we’ll raise enough money to be able to afford to include photos inside the paperback — colour or otherwise.
Q: Is the cover final?
A: Again, that’s down to how much money we raise — I’d love to be able to have alternative covers, but everyone deserves to be paid, so TBC.
Q: OK, you’ve convinced me — how do I pre-order?
A: https://shop.lastnightfromglasgow.com/products/the-michael-m-youre-doing-it-all-fundraiser
