Blur bassist Alex James has a lot of plates spinning. Not only did he reunite with one of the biggest bands in history for a whirlwind tour and a new album, but he organised his yearly Feastival, wrote a book and kept life as a dad-of-five on the go. It all comes to a head on Over the Rainbow: Tales from an Unexpected Year, his latest biography which could be seen as a cash-in from the post-Blur reunion. But it can also be seen in the same way we view Richard E. Grant and his diaries. There is a candid nature to this book, despite all the name-dropping and boozing, the desire for a giant Frazzle juxtaposed by the crisp manufacturer’s disinterest. But once James warms up to the year, to the shock return of Blur even when drummer Dave Rowntree didn’t think it was going to happen, Over the Rainbow becomes a real treat.
Much of it is, inevitably, something for Blur fans. Those little tales of meandering travel or the extraordinary made to sound like the every day are part and parcel of the live music experience. James writes well of these moments. The memories which linger are not the performances at Wembley or the rush of emotion from The Ballad of Darren (an album which still stands as Blur’s best moment), but in the oddities and post-gig delirium. Packing up a patisserie worth of Parisian exports and lugging it cross country and back home, Dave the security guard, all those little features which make a world of difference gives us a glimpse into James’ homestead, which he says is stronger than ever.
Hard it may be for goodwill to seep in, the genuine joy and physical, mental and moral improvements made by James throughout Over the Rainbow is a joy to read. He may be scant about the details, the juicy gossip on what went down during the Amsterdam gig or what niggling doubts there were about Wembley, but the book was never meant to be about that. What it becomes is an incredibly readable and touchingly personal diary of events, though James manages to carry himself through as a man worried but not rattled by Blur getting back together at a time when planning a festival and balancing his busy home life is all part of the package. Being asked to push the very limit of his work by Albarn is one thing, but the unspoken contract provided by the Blur group is a weighty factor which presents itself the whole way through.
From exercising his way back into Britpop pants to launching a wine to tie into the times which, a year or two removed from it, did feel like a soft reboot of the era which defines Blur. Pulp was playing gigs down the road while Suede and Manic Street Preachers geared up for a double headline date. Oasis was on the verge of announcing something big the year after. Life repeats itself. Nostalgia is a hungry beast but for James, it is just part of being in a band. His return to Blur is as much a part of his day-to-day going on as fixing the faulty drainpipe at the back end of his farm. Over the Rainbow does well not to buff out the magic of a reuniting band but does scratch away the veneer of gossip. What purpose does it serve to know the squabbles and salacious details, after all? It may sell books and turn into an interesting story, but it would have removed the sincerity to be found in Over the Rainbow.
