Simon Williams - Pandamonium!: How (Not) to Run a Record Label

NEB 008

First published in the UK in 2022 by Nine Eight Books

An imprint of Bonnier Books UK

4th Floor, Victoria House, Bloomsbury Square, London, WC1B 4DA

Owned by Bonnier Books, Sveavgen 56, Stockholm, Sweden

@nineeightbooks

@nineeightbooks

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-7887-0728-2

eBook ISBN: 978-1-7887-0729-9

Audio ISBN: 978-1-7887-0730-5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Publishing director: Pete Selby

Senior editor: Melissa Bond

Cover design by Paul Palmer-Edwards

Typeset by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd

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Text copyright Simon Williams, 2022

The right of Simon Williams to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright-holders of material reproduced in this book. If any have been inadvertently overlooked, the publisher would be glad to hear from them.

www.bonnierbooks.co.uk

Now I see the sadness in the world,
Im sorry I didnt see it before.

Mother Ive Taken LSD
by the Flaming Lips

CONTENTS

*

*

I am beyond delighted to say that I had a massive role in the creation of one of the least-read NMEs of all time one that was to mark my farewell to life as a full-time music journalist. And all without lifting a finger.

The cover date tells us it is from 31 March 1999, a year of years. In big red and orange letters across the middle the headline screams: HERES PANDA! SULTANS OF NING BEARS ALL . In the top left-hand corner sits a frothy pint of Carling with a tagline of Darling Premier! New release on Vivid Beermat. To the top right, a live picture of a frothing Rat from Neds Atomic Dustbin accompanies a shout of NEDS HEAVEN : Big shorts, Steve Lamacq and why fraggle rocks.

The main front image is a black and white picture of some doofus with his face (very badly) painted like a panda. Hes lying flat on his back on the ground with his tongue poking out. In his right paw is something that is definitely not a cigarette. The picture was taken backstage at Glastonbury Festival circa 1995. This much we know because we is he and he is we its a picture of your author in his natural habitat, happily pissed and rolling around in the grass with a roll-up.

There are more words on the bottom half of the cover. Those words read as follows:

* FARMERS BOYS * GOTHS * JOHN HARRIS * NEW WAVE OF NEW WAVE *

* SUPER FURRY ANIMALS * RADIOHEAD * THE BLUETONES * ASH * EMBRACE *

* KEBABS * STEVE PERRYMAN * CHARLIE WRIGHTS * SAINSBURYS

WALTHAMSTOW * I ONLY SNOGGED HER * ITS EASY FOR YOU TO SAY

* MARK SUTHERLAND * STICK IT ON THE OLD BUNGOUS * LIGHTNING

NEVER STRIKES KAPOW! * SKUNK ROCK * BLUE POSTS * ... AND NO CHEESE *

Tucked right underneath the NME logo, in the tiniest of typefaces, it says: Well miss you when youre gone, a poignant response to my frequent office shout out of, Youll miss me when Im gone!

At the risk of spoiling the rest of this here book, that is a pretty mesmeric summary of my life up until that point. Some bands, some flatmates, some bars, some music scenes, some catchphrases ... and no cheese. This is hardly surprising as this had been carefully put together by writers and sub-editors and general roustabouts who Id been working with and gigging with and drinking with across eleven years of lobe-flapping, globe-trotting, strobe-boggling rock n roll writing palavers. Because this NME front cover was one of a kind, a kindly leaving gift. One copy only. Worst. Sales. Ever.

At another risk of spoiling the fun it is no exaggeration to say this story contains a million more gear changes than a gazillion laps of the Monaco Grand Prix. This tale is a mutant hybrid of neon-lit highs and near-death lows.

If you have this book in your hands, you may well have read some of those words of wisdom in the NME between 1988 and 1999. Or there is slightly less of a chance you may have bought a Jump Away ... fanzine from me in the mid-80s, or listened to my Dalston tones on Xfm in the mid-90s, or been entertained, or indeed sickened, at one of our Club Smashed! or Club Spangle or Club Panda or Club Fandango live shows at any point over the past thirty-odd years.

We may have shared gig space at the Lyceum in 1982. We may have shared dancefloor space at Pigeons in 1987. We may have shared bar space at the Powerhaus in 1992. We could well have shared drinking space at the Water Rats in 1996, or the Dublin Castle in 2002, or the Bull & Gate in 2007, or the Shacklewell Arms in 2014, or the Victoria in 2021, or ... oh, you know. Yet, despite all of the above, in spite of all those times, the chances are you havent got a clue who I am. Sometimes Im not quite sure either.

What we are certain about is that what has dominated proceedings for half of my so-called life is Fierce Panda Records. You may have heard of this label with the big heart and the small purse; the skinnyfit company with the fat furry face; the indie tiger with the golden ears glinting in the dark recesses of the gloriously fetid toilet circuit. But what is a record company? Who is a record company? Why is a record company?

First true fact: you dont have to be a lunatic to run a record company but oh, hang on you do. You also need to be a bit nerdy, a bit dweeby, a bit needy. Are you the kind of person who buys a new notepad to start a fresh to-do list and carefully writes down: 1) start a new to-do list so you have something to instantly cross off? Were you the kind of pop kid who sat staring down at the gramophone as the vinyl record went round and round and the logo kept spinning and spinning until you got a bit dizzy ... Jet Jet Jet Jet ... EMI EMI EMI EMI ... WXYZ WXYZ WXYZ WXYZ ...? Were you the kind of person who accidentally spent their school dinner money on that absolutely vital new Food single? Did you ever go to Better Badges in Covent Garden to make your own badges of bands too new to have their own badges on sale or, in some extreme cases, make badges for bands who would never exist? Did you used to give your own personal records your own catalogue numbers? Did you cut lyrics out of Smash Hits magazine and put them in the appropriate 7-inch sleeve (where they still lie)? Crucially, are you moderately happy in your own slightly offbeat body, the kind of person who goes to gigs to see completely unknown bands in the hope that youll accidentally find the new Coldplay, if not, at the very least, the very latest hot combo?

If you have nodded along to all of the above and muttered, Uh-huh, or He knows me so well, or Yikes, yeah! under your breath then stop reading right now and throw this book into the fire, or perhaps the nearest second-hand literary receptacle, possibly at your local recycling centre, because you are either already a record-company owner or you are in significant danger of becoming one.