The music I loved in my teens

Who says men are the music geeks? After attending my first ever gig - Transvision Vamp at Folkestone Leas Cliffe Hall if you are interested, and experiencing the twin joys of the mosh pit and cute boys in skinny jeans, I went through a stage in my early teens where if I couldn't buy a track as a limited pressing white label 12", preferably on Sarah Records, or Creation I was, like, so uninterested.

Fortunately I calmed down a bit a few years later and only needed a band to be in the NME...which explains part, but not all of my obsession with Pop Will eat Itself, Ned's Atomic Dustbin, The Wonderstuff, The Sandkings et al...

I found a box of gig tickets in the attic this week and it all came flooding back. The tiny venues, the PWEI Pepsi rip off logo, sitting on the floor at the James gig...kissing a boy I was madly in love with at Carter (but not realising it at the time)...

I'm even in the Carter video shot at the gig at Brixton Academy. That was the same summer I saw them play at Reading too. (The summer before was The Pixies at Reading.) Blissful salad days.

Adamandevil show in Los Angeles

Adamandevil is the very talented & not un-attractive pairing of musicians Scott Fairbrother (l) & Julian Shah-Tayler (r)

I'm biased where LA band Adamandevil are concerned: I stayed for a month or so this spring in the vast Los Angeles house where the band often write & practice, so I heard their extremely addictive music morning noon & night, as well as going along to their gigs. Sure the boys are good friends of mine, (I've known Julian since high school), but I can't recommend their very particular brand of highly charged electro indie pop highly enough.

They are no amateur production: after 3 years of touring the world with seminal London band Whitey and co-writing tracks for the second album (including Wrap it Up which has been heard on The OC, House, and Grand Theft Auto IV) the boys decided to go out on their own, forming Adamandevil together after they had both decided separately to move to America's West Coast in 2007.

Altho they both have solo projects (more of this later), they are currently mixing Adamandevil's self-produced debut album with Danny Saber (David Bowie/Rolling Stones/Black Sabbath/Marilyn Manson), & are celebrating the release of their new video Outnumbered with a free show at the Key club in Hollywood this Wednesday, the 14th, from 9pm.



Key Club, 9039 W Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

Find Adamandevil on Facebook page & MySpace

www.impossiblethingsrecords.com/adamandevil

The Pixies: On a Wave of Inspiration

I'm no Nick Hornby, sitting in my bedroom making up lists of my favourite songs or artists, but if I had to really, really think about it, then the Pixies would probably be in my top three bands of all time list.

I think it's probably safe to say that they fall into the 'world's most influential rock bands that didn't play on Top of the Pops or Radio 1' category. Thom Yorke worshipped them, and Kurt Cobain admitted to trying to rip off the Pixies when he wrote Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Els, my best friend at the time, & I saw them play at The Reading Festival in August 1990. Stuck in the middle of the mosh pit, perched on the shoulders of two guys we had just met, we were deliriously happy, in that carefree yet slightly scared teenage way and it remains one of those caught in amber moments for me.

They were hot off the success of their second album Doolittle, and the amped up, grubby indie pre 'festivals are hip' crowd couldn't get enough of them. (The version of Debaser that they played that day has gone down in fan history.) Although Surfer Rosa, their first album has both the glorious Gigantic AND Where is My Mind?, it's Doolittle, that will always be thought of as the seminal Pixies album, a masterpiece, and to see them play it live was, well, awwwwwwesome.

I know every word to every song the Pixies wrote, and when I read this review in The Times today of their four night residency at London's Brixton Academy, where they are playing Doolittle in its entirety, I ground my teeth with frustration that I couldn't be there. (Mind you, the tickets sold out in 20 minutes.)

For neophytes try these songs on Pandora (US) or Spotify (UK): Wave of Mutilation, Debaser, Monkey Gone to Heaven.

Vote Beatnik Jr!

Back in April I wrote about the fantastic Beatnik Jr. They were competing, as one of 150 bands across America, in the Hard Rock's Battle of the Bands. The ultimate prize: an all expenses-paid trip to appear in London at Hard Rock Calling in Hyde Park on the same bill as Neil Young, The Killers and Bruce Springsteen.

I was dragged to their LA show, thinking they would be rubbish (Hard Rock? Yeah right). I was wrong. They were properly good, and it would seem that I am not the only one to have worked that out.

After demolishing the local competition, they went on to the Battle of the Bands private judging round against the other 20 regional American winners. They sailed through that, emerging as one of just five bands in the on-line public voting final.

They are in second place right now, so I urge you to check out their MySpace and, if you like what you hear, click through below to vote to send these charming LA boys to my home city.



ps I was blown away not just by Beatnik Jr's live set, but by the charming email they sent to thank me for writing about them. Manners: few & far between these days, I find. (Hmm - I am well aware that I am turning into my mother.)

So Beatnik Jr (John Maro, Jordan Vernik, Drews Jones & Collin Winner), I wish you the very best of luck!

Thursday: Beatnik Jr in LA at (sshh) The Hard Rock Café

Because I like to be perverse, I’ve spent more time in Los Angeles going to gigs than I have immersing myself in film. This is because one of my oldest, and most talented friends, Julian Shah-Tayler lives here, and I have been staying in the large rambling clapboard house in Koreatown in which he and several equally talented & charming musicians hole up. (The only drawback is trying to sleep when they are jamming in their rehearsal room at 4am.)
On Thursday night I needed distracting, (I was missing my suite at the Hotel Bel-Air.) Julian’s idea of diversion was the Hard Rock Café. Yup. That would do it.

Frankly I would rather stick pins in my eyes than go to a Hard Rock Café, whether in Hollywood, Hyderabad or Hong Kong, but I was made to drive to Universal City under duress, with JST promising that Beatnik Jr ‘one of the best upcoming bands in LA’ were playing in the LA final of the Hard Rock's Battle of the Bands competition.

I can’t possibly judge them against other LA bands but I can judge them against New York and, maybe, London bands. And they were excellent, head & shoulders above the level of the majority of bands who thrash about idiotically at similar competitions.

They're a four piece, in the slightly experimental rock mould with, in John Maro, a lead singer who also plays keyboards and transforms from polite & personable face to face to gleeful, possibly manic, exuberance within seconds of hitting the stage.


The last time I saw an unsigned band I enjoyed so much were White Rabbits, who I wrote about here & who, incidentally, have their second album, It's Frightening, out on May 16th

Anyway, Beatnik Jr go onto the national round of video judging against 21 other US bands, before judging is thrown open to the public on-line. The winner gets to play at Hard Rock Calling in Hyde Park. Or Hyde Park, London, as everyone calls it over here.

(I'm afraid my photos of the other members of Beatnik Jr, in the main, have very enthusiastic audience members covering just about every shot.)

Jonathan Rice at Soho House

To Soho House for a low key performance by Jonathan Rice, organised by Artists’ Den, who specialise in tiny, secret gigs in unlikely locations by upcoming artists.

There’s something very indulgent about watching a brilliant acoustic set from a genius singer songwriter, whilst ensconced in a deep velvet armchair, with a glass of Merlot on a Sunday evening.

I’m not quite sure what scruffy, plaid shirt-wearing, baby-faced twenty-four year old Jonathan Rice thought of doing a showcase at Soho House. He opened with, “I’ve never done a gig in a place with moisturiser in the bathrooms”, before going on to ask the audience to rattle their jewellery if they enjoyed the set.

Still, whether he was laughing at or with the audience, he sang an extraordinary set, packed with great deadpan lines, including “An investment banker started something so I broke his neck,” from his single, "We’re All Stuck Out in the Desert", which seemed particularly apt for the audience.

He may look about eighteen, but he's already supprted REM, played the part of Roy Orbison in Walk The Line, and dates Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley. He supports Matt Costa at the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow (Monday).

Le Rev & CC Sheffield in Manhattan

During CMJ in October I hopped it down to Fontana's on the Lower East Side for Los Angeles' Viper Rooms' series of showcase gigs. On the Friday I was there to support my gorgeous friend Julian aka Shah (ex-Whitey) who had flown in from LA to play bass for CC Sheffield's band Le Rev.

A somewhat odd evening. Julian whisked us up to backstage before the show, and I sat down with CC who charmed me from the get go. Intelligent, self-deprecating and funny, she is a talented actress & model who puts a large chunk of her earnings into her self-financed band. She hasn't taken the easy option of churning out pretty girl pop, and instead plays a fantastic post-punk set. It has to be said she also looks fabulous.

After jumping about like a Mexican bean during their (very good) set, I retired backstage to regroup & get stuck into the vodka. Which is when Julian appeared, uttering the immortal line, "Harvey Weinstein wants to meet you."

Somewhat tipsy, and very unbelieving (Fontana's isn't exactly a glam venue), I followed him downstairs, weaving through the grubby dancefloor to the front bar where Harvey Weinstein was indeed perched across a bar stool, talking with CC, who had told him a writer from XXXXX was in the house. Hence the summons. Turns out he's a very big fan of the band and of CC, who he thinks will go far. We chatted for a while, and then I made myself scarce, whisking into the bathrooms to scrawl down, rather illegibly, Harvey's pearls of wisdom.

Check out Le Rev's MySpace, and CC's blog.

Karl Lagerfeld & Amy Wino

Oh for crying out loud. I am so fed up with Karl Lagerfeld's muse bandwagon. It seems like every other month he announces that some high profile female celebrity is his new muse. WGSN ran this quote today, "She is a style icon. She is a beautiful, gifted artist. And I very much like her hairdo. I took it as an inspiration. Because, in fact, it was also Brigitte Bardot's hairdo in the late Fifties and Sixties. And now Amy has made it her own style. So, when I saw her, I knew it was the right moment. Amy... she is the new Brigitte."

ACK. As I have said before, dear Karl would appoint Princess Fiona as his new muse if he thought it politic.

Saturday occupation

I had a perfect Saturday, which ended up in the Union Square cinema with a bag of popcorn watching the sugar-sweet new Disney romance-fest, Enchanted, starring MacDreamy & Amy Adams, and a hamming it up Susan Sarandon & Timothy Spall.

I spent the day writing, checked out Project Runway for the first time on TV (so much better then the English one), and then popped on my heels and cabbed it to Sushi Samba (made famous by Sex & the City) on Park Avenue & 20th for girls' supper. Friday & Saturday nights in the city are flooded with weekend warriors. Everywhere is rammed, and the streets, especially in the East Village, are filled with drunk twenty years olds. So, a quiet, healthy, alcohol-free supper is exactly the way forward.

The girls were on their way home by nine fifteen, so I trotted down to Union Square to Virgin and bought the new Killers & The Cribs albums (both excellent), plus some My Bloody Valentine and Louder Than Bombs - The Smiths' 1987 America-only album, both of which I have on cassette. Does that show my age? After the movie, I marched home to the West Village in the sub-zero temperatures, dancing along to Editors and The Pixies.

CMJ circus hits town

I don't just spend my time eating in fabulous restaurants, going to fashion industry parties, lolling on the sofas at Soho House and drinking my body weight in raspberry martinis. Occasionally I engage with the music industry too. This week sees the annual CMJ Music Marathon & the arrival of industry reps from around the world - plus hundreds of musicians looking for that big break at the multiple industry showcases happening each night.

Having a New York apartment makes you VERY popular with out of towners, and so I am hosting my very favourite, super-stylish, supremely talented, very sexy, black clad rocker in my apartment for the week. Shah has flown in from Los Angeles to play at two Lower East Side venues this week: solo at The Delancey this evening (8.30pm) and at the Viper Room in NYC showcase at Fontanas on Friday with hotly tipped new band Le Rev, fronted by the ravishing C C.

Mini Mozart

Completely unrelated to fashion or New York post. One of my dearest friends runs Mini Mozart for toddlers & for babies at Lauderdale House in Highgate, North London. These fun & fabulous music-orientated sessions, with live piano, clarinet & violin, are based around fairy tales, singing, play & bubbles(!)

She is just about to start Mini Mozart up in Crouch End, N8. So spread the word if anyone you know wants their child to learn to how to listen to music, not just hear it, from an early age.

Mini Mozart is the brainchild of Clare-Louise Stuart. Not only is she staggeringly talented: She notched up a music scholarship at Uppingham School, a music degree from Newcastle University and a scholarship to jazz legend Berklee College of Music, Boston, Massachusetts, USA, but she has two adorable cherubs under five AND presented for BBC Music at The Proms and Young Musician of the Year AND has an amazing empathy with children.

She's beautiful, intelligent, charming and an all-round good egg, & I can't recommend her or her Mini Mozart sessions highly enough.

Lollapalooza round up

Lollapalooza was a great experience: to be at a festival in the heart of a city rather than the rolling English countryside felt other-wordly. Nice too to be in a bed each night than my battered old festival tent.

Alhough reporting on a festival isn't the most arduous assignment, I even managed to do some unexpected 'work'* at the rather fabulous Lollapalooza artists & performers CKIN2U relaxation & gifting suites at The Hard Rock Hotel. We left laden down with Skullcandy headphones, the delicious-smelling entire CK fragrance range, Calvin knickers & sunglasses, and even new super comfy plimsolls from PF-Flyers, and certainly refreshed by the vodka bar. We spent Saturday night at the private CKIN2U Blender Sessions back there, where I asked the on-site tattoist to touch up my tattoo. He declined - I think I may have been a bit tipsy by then.



As far as the Festival itself was concerned, rather than the being given free stuff bit, dancing like a fool at Daft Punk as the light came down, and the skyscrapers lit up was one of those transcendental experiences. Watching the Daft Punk pair, dressed in their traditional black leather jumpsuits (designed by Hedi Slimane no less) & robotic, LED enhanced helmets, perched on top of a pyramid on the main stage, and illuminated by a staggering light show, I did wonder about the urban myth - started on Popbitch –that Homem-Christo & Bangalter pre-programme everything, hire two guys to wear their robot outfits on stage, and bugger off elsewhere). Still, hearing brilliant mixes of Around The World & One More Time and giggling as they incorporated Stardust’s ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ into their closing mix, whilst we jumped around like Mexican beans in that setting in a huge crowd, it didn’t matter who might have been under those helmets.

We loved & danced to like fools: The Rapture (to get a crowd to dance in the 95F midday sun to your rocking tunes is an amazing feat); The Fratellis, Daft Punk, Electric Six,

We loved and listened to from a prone position (too too hot, too hungover) Kings of Leon, Amy Winehouse, The Cribs (“ We’re from Wakefield everybody”), Satellite Party, Rodrigo y Gabriela, LCD Soundsystem, M.I.A

Disappointments: CSS cancelled at the last minute, delayed at JFK. Modest Mouse, Muse, Snow Patrol (hardly a surprise there), Blonde Redheads, Sparklehorse.

*Meeting the US PRs for the brands I often write about - not often one gets to mix work & play in such pleasant surroundings.

Going loop la loop at Lollapalooza

A grown up rock festival held in a huge city park ringed by skyscrapers, where bunny rabbits occasionally hop over your ankles, is a wholly new experience to an English festival journalist, who has been more used to greeting each festival day by crawling out of a sauna-like tent to queue at a standpipe to brush her teeth, than by popping into Starbucks for a double espresso on her way to catch the subway to the festival.

I'm loathe to describe Lollapallooza as a festival, in the sense that the English would use it. The nearest English equivalent is a three day Party in the Park but with rockers rather than boy bands. When you take the need to camp out of the equation, it means attendees must either live in the vicinity or have the wherewithal to pay for accomodation. This immediately weeds out the more impoverised, and often more amusing & interesting attendees.

There is none of the sense of anarchy that underlies English, and some US festivals. No grown men dressed as pixies, no fairy outfits, no hippies, no dogs on strings. I've seen just two people with dreads. And barely a soul is smoking, discernably drunk or chasing imaginary friends. There is also no mud, a very pleasant change from Glastonbury.

Lollapalooza is about as alternative as a Buckingham Palace garden party. I'm writing this in the AT & T emblazoned aircon open access tent which is full of dozens of laptops with internet access, cell charging stations, Playstations, luxe sofas and plasmas showing sports and live feeds from the main stage. Treating the plebes like VIPs is a remarkably clever way to get your brand across to your target audience.

Most importantly, the music booking & scheduling is intelligent: a clever mix of the good, the bad, the new, the old and the evergreen. It is staggeringly hot though and dancing in the midday sun at The Fratellis was an (enjoyable) effort. We have spent rather a large part the following sets lying under various trees tapping our fingers & toes. Stand outs so far: MIA, The Rapture, & Electric Six. Pottering off to LCD Soundsystem & Daft Punk now. Then I shall be doing collapsing.

The Fratellis play Manhattan

I am feeling a little guilty that I keep going to see British bands over here: Kaiser Chiefs, The Kooks, Arctic Monkeys, and tonight, The Fratellis. But how could I not? These are all bands who I listen to on a daily basis, so the chance of seeing them live, and in New York, has been far too good to give up. I just regret that I haven't been doing more gig going in London over the past ten years - it does help that it's often less than half the price in the UK to see bands here.

The Fratellis at the Roseland tonight were excellent. They're here in the States supporting The Police on their stadium tour, and tonight's date was a last minute schedule addition, I suspect, because they are cresting a wave of popularity on the back of the tour. I know that some elements of the music press deride them for all their la la la choruses and general perkiness, but the lead singer has an astonishing voice, and I'm a big fan of a catchy, danceable tune. And, surprisingly for a New York audience, there was a lot of dancing going on. Altho I do suspect that there was a very healthy British contingent in the audience - I spotted at last two Saltires being waved from the balconies, and some super-nutty pogo-ing that definitely looked authentically lager-fuelledly English.

(I wonder if UK bands playing New York realise just how many British people there are in the audience. Last month The Kooks played the tiny Fillmore, and Luke Pritchard screamed out "I can't believe you fuckers know all the words" and I really wanted to shout back, "That's cos 75% of the audience is British mate".

Splendid gig-going moment: Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline blasting out over the PA as we all left the venue. Immediately the entire British contingent started roaring out the words and doing little shimmying dances in the aisles. A proper Guilty Pleasure.

Are White Rabbits the best unsigned band in America?

Take out your stopwatches a la Alice in Wonderland, and start counting the minutes until this new group hits the big time.

White Rabbits may well be the best unsigned band I’ve seen play live in years. I’ve made it to several gigs this month, amongst which were The Kooks at The Fillmore (still breaking over here, small venue, not as strong live as I had hoped), and Arctic Monkeys at the Hammerstein Ballroom – terrible sound, static crowd, enormously disappointing and, apart from CSS's stellar showing on Friday, was getting used to underwhelming live sets in this city.

Hopping along to White Rabbits on Saturday night at The Bowery Ballroom at the very last minute (I’m late, I’m late for a very important date) my expectations were somewhere beneath ground level. Unsigned band, tiny venue. The only reason I levered myself off the sofa of death was that I was invited by my friend A who has immaculate taste (but then she does own a properly good indie record label.)

They describe themselves as purveyors of honky tonk calypso, but this doesn’t even begin to describe their (seriously credible) sound. With two lead vocals, plus frenetic piano playing, and extraordinary layered percussion (two drum kits, maracas, bells, tambourine,) it all melds into a glorious, uplifting noise. Although it’s hard to keep track as the band members hop around the stage swapping guitars for maracas, and drums for keyboards and goodness knows what else. A band this comprehensively talented makes their live performance an absolute joy. The anoraks will appreciate their musicianship, the girls their (extremely) good looks, the press their charm & manners – and everyone will love their live infectious energy and chutzpah.

Their debut album, Fort Nightly, has just been released here and, on mutiple plays so far, I reckon it’s one of the albums of 2007 already. If you’re in London, they play at White Heat @ Madame Jo-Jo's & at Water Rats in June, and they take to the Q Stage at Glasto. GO, go go….

Dancing, drinking & raining.

The condensed nature of this island, combined with cheap cabs and a 24hr subway system makes an evening with four or five engagements a breeze. In London, where it takes an hour to get anywhere, and a cab costs on average $30 a ride, an evening can feasibly only contain one event, unless one has a very large expense account or bottomless pockets.

Take Friday night: I had my first ever frozen Margarita (delicious) before a private view at Pierogi in Williamsburg, dropped into the US launch of Moleskin’s chic - & useful – City Guides at the Art Director's club (loved Zadie Smith's personalised version), and then lovely L & I went to see Brazilian dance rockers CSS play at the Fillmore @ Irving Plaza. I'm glad we caught them at this tiny 500 person venue: they play Wembley Arena, supporting Gwen Stefani this summer. The set was so frenetic that even the Concession stand girls were dancing on the tables during the encore. We loved them: an energetic, funny, sexy dance rock hybrid with a huge dollop of latin sex.

High as a kite from dancing endorphins, we checked out The Park in Chelsea for a piece I’m writing on rooftop bars,(beautiful garden, good drinks, lovely manager) told the not so cute boys hitting on us that we were lesbians, and then finished the night off with way too many Martinis in the Games Room at Soho House. Crawled home by way of Pop Burger.

It is therefore all the more admirable that I managed to haul my sorry ass down to the Bowery Ballroom to see White Rabbits play last night. More of the astonishingly good Rabbits later.

After a week of complaining about the weather, it’s now bucketing down. I have a supper tonight in Nolita with TvB, a French photographer who is in town to shoot for US InStyle. Guess I’ll be taking a cab…

Eurovision Heaven: Borat writers' next project

Oh My God. Variety has announced that the team behind Borat are making a...wait for it... EUROVISION SONG CONTEST movie.

The genius of this is so enormous that it's difficult to know where to start. Christ, the costumes alone.... Eurovision has something like 600 million people watching worldwide. This movie will be HUGE. Sod America: this is a film for the Euros. And, lest we forget musical giants including ABBA, Céline Dion and Buck's Fizz, the guiding lights of my childhood have won Eurovision. (I could do their entire dance routine with nifty skirt ripping off movement - not bad for a 9yr old)

Perhaps the script could rotate around England, France & Spain rebelling against the political block voting of the ex Eastern Bloc countries, thus righting a HUGE wrong. Ok, I know Jemini weren't really that good, but this year's entry wasn't THAT bad. (Hey, I may be in New York, but that doesn't mean I am giving up on my cultural heritage).

And, of course, there would have to be a major, major role for Terry Wogan. And his bottle of the hard stuff. ( For the Americans who are so kind as to read this blog, he is the septuagenarian Irish housewife's choice presenter who always gets progressively drunkerer as the live transmission continues.)

Oh My God (I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home)

It may not be true in miles, but sometimes New York seems a million miles away in attitude. The fabulously glamorous N (one of the best dressed girls I know), is the NME PR back in London, & sorted me out guest list for the sell-out NME sponsored Kaiser Chiefs gig at The Roseland Ballroom. One of the best gigs I've been to in years in terms of sheer continuous bouncing child-like enjoyment. Poor A - I don't think he realised he'd be spending the evening standing next to a Mexican jumping bean.

At one point during the completely over-excited encore (Angry Mob, Oh My God), I launched myself at least a foot in the air, arm punching the sky,(as everyone screamed "Oh my God I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home") and then for a moment duing my downward momentum had to seriously consider whether my heels would snap under the force of landing. (Note to self - very short skirts not so practical for jumping purposes.)

But here's the odd thing: all the New Yorkers just stood there like lemons for at least the first half of the set. (And this isn't germane to the Kaisers - it happens at most gigs here.) The Kaisers played an immaculate, anthemic Everyday I love You Less & Less second song in, and the the crowd barely reacted. There was a tight bunch moshing at the front, a little bobbing/airpunching/head nodding on the fringes of that, and then all these stock still New Yorkers. But, best of all, were these little pockets of obvious Brits (easy to spot - good looking & better dressed) jumping around amongst the statues.

I'm so used to the ebullience of London crowds, whether or not it's a famous band, that it was hard to believe we were at a live show. The Yanks will happily sing along, but dance, oh no siree. Far too cool. Still the irresistable force of the Kaisers, combined with a good sprinkling of British supporters meant that by the time the encore kicked off, the audience had too. The Kaisers should be thoroughly pleased with themselves. A cracking evening.

Saw MM loitering in the coat check queue afterwards. Went over to say hello, against my better judgement, as wanted to check if my judgement had been previously impaired by alcohol, but no, he is definitely a very, very attractive (& unobtainable) man. Sigh.

Oh, & another thing about Americans that struck me tonight. Why are they all so short? I'm only 5'6" (altho obviously I have 4" heels permanently welded to my feet) & find myself towering over men here. This does not bode well for my romantic chances in Manhattan - I only really fancy (with a few notable exceptions) tall men.

The Big Smoke vs The Big Apple

Last night we were guested for YoYo at tiny club Love in the Village. After all a Notting hill Arts Club night transposed to Manhattan & presented by Dazed masquerading as the after party for Lily Allen's gig earlier that evening seemed an obvious go to.



A club full of English people: a suited & booted Jefferson Hack & squeeze Anouck Lepere, Jacquetta Wheeler, Lily Allen, Sophie Ellis Bextor, Olivia Inge, loads more models, NY - LON magazine people and, er, us & all our mates.

Brilliant music, fantastic venue, shockingly badly dressed clientele - par for the course in New York it seems. We danced our socks off.

Click here for photo

British Vogue May 2007 cover

There are many, many reasons why I think this is a shockingly bad cover but I'll start with the most obvious. If you were a famous model would you want to be photographed with a dodgy rocker with the words 'Fashion's Big Easy' stamped just under your groin?

It cld be argued that now Johnny Borrell is shagging Kirsten Dunst, Vogue were remarkably prescient in putting him on the cover, but surely they could at least have run a cover that hinted at some chemistry between their chosen stars? We all know she's married with two kids, but hey, fostering the illusion that they wanted to rip each other's kit off would at least have made a visually interesting cover. And what's with the dragged-through-a-hedge-backwards hair on Natalia?

British Vogue does have a history of putting dubious celebrities on the cover. Robbie Williams with Gisele Bundchen in October 2000, P.Diddy with Naomi Campbell in October 2001 and Elton John with Elizabeth Hurley in December 2002... the last one in particular set a new low at the time.