Hotel shampoo
I mentioned the other day that I took the uncharacteristic step of leaving a fan letter at Harrogate Theatre, where I was playing the other night. The object of my affections was Gruff Rhys, the lead singer of the Super Furry Animals, who I’ve been a fan of since I was 16. Although SFA were never the biggest band in the world – their popularity peaked at ‘relatively well-known cult figures’ level – they probably put more effort than any other band into making their live shows spectacular and memorable, and their music is exceptionally uplifting and pretty much unlike the music of anyone you can name. As a solo artist (though the band are technically still going), Rhys has continued to be amazingly prolific and to take on a huge range of projects. I shan’t bang on about his career or the Super Furries’ because you can easily find out for yourself if you’re not familiar with them; and I’m aware that listening to someone try to explain how much they like certain types of music is, for non-music geeks, a bit like watching someone eat a sandwich going ‘mmm. Mmm. That’s lovely. Mmm’ over and over again. But the important thing is, he’s kind of a hero of mine. Maybe not a hero, but a role-model. Or, anyone, someone I think is great. Let’s leave it at that.
His latest album’s called Hotel Shampoo: the title refers to the fact that, over the course of many years’ touring, he’s built up a very large collection of complimentary toiletries from hundreds of hotels. He said that when he started touring he was kind of repulsed by the amount of crappy free disposable items everywhere, but also his kleptomaniac side naturally wanted to grab them all. Before the album came out he made a model hotel out of hundreds and hundreds of these bottles – a kind of permanent landmark out of the millions of emphemera he’d come across in all that hotel time – and attempted to sleep a night in it, in the Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff.
You can perhaps see some ways in which I’ve been inspired by Gruff. On top of all this, as we both get older, I flatter myself that I am starting to look like him. The promotional shots for the Hotel Shampoo album (I’ve put one above) suggest more than a passing resemblance between the musical innovator and me, the gangly not-quite-Welshman who used to watch wide-eyed as Gruff sloped onto the stage with a re-strung left-handed guitar. And given that they’re taken in a hotel, it pretty much could BE me. I like to think so, anyway.
And now, after faithfully following SFA’s career during those early touring years when Rhys was first awed and alarmed by the sheer amount of tacky free stuff on offer in hotels, I find myself on much the same career path – partly thanks to him and his inspirational band. Our paths are converging. When I got to Harrogate Theatre and found flyers for his show in mid-July, I realised I was closer than ever before to overlapping with the man who has done so much to inspire me as a live performer. We only missed each other by a month. Next perhaps it’ll be a few days. And then eventually we’ll be on the same bill and collaborate and become best friends and one will speak at the other’s funeral.
But, as we all know, you should never meet your heroes. Gruff Rhys is a quiet, unassuming man who talks very slowly and doesn’t take his music too seriously (except in the sense that he works very hard on it), and I can only imagine it would be enormously awkward if we actually contacted each other. I’ve never been one for ‘networking’ with people I admire, partly becasue of the huge embarrassment of it, partly because it’s hard to see what good it could ever do. It could indeed do harm, by making me look like some kind of weirdo in the eyes of someone I’ve looked up to all these years. All the same, the near-overlap of the venues seemed somehow too much to ignore. So I gathered my courage and wrote him a small note on one of his flyers, simply saying that he’d been quite an influence on me and (without actually asking him to) leaving it open for him to get in touch. Maybe through this blog, for example. But most likely he won’t, and perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. Quite likely we’ll never hear any more of this. I mean, he might well not even read the note; the people at Harrogate could forget to give it to him, or he might glance at it and think ‘I tend to make a habit of not looking at these kind of things, in case someone mental has written them’. It could end up languishing somewhere in a recycling box in a storage room, just one more ephemeral item in this hotel-culture world of ours.
Or, maybe something more interesting will happen. Watch this space. If we make an album together I’ll definitely mention it.
Posted by Juliet on June 8, 2011
I thought it was you as well. Or that teacher who contacted you on Twitter that looked exactly like you.
I have only met one of my “heroes” and it was quite strange. Not only that but I bumped into him once during a comedy gig and it was awkward, because he looked like he remembered who I was, but it seemed quite unlikely to me, so I never said hi and, eventually, ended up looking like a rude asshole.
I think I’m going to Britain next year and I HOPE I can meet you. That’d be absolutely amazing. And hopefully, a little less awkward.
Posted by Sue (DiB) on June 7, 2011
We are so alike… I’m a bit of a fan-girl too.
Posted by Lydia on June 7, 2011
I, like everyone else, thought that photo was you.
I know it is very easy to be paranoid about whatever you say to someone you admire being stupid. But I think you just have to assume that people who share the things that they make are doing it because they want a response. Music is one of those things that brings people together and makes people feel like they’re not alone (obviously. Again I win on stating the obvious!), so I would have thought that hearing that what you had spent your life doing did exactly that, even if it was a lot of times and sometimes a little crazily, would be inspiring.
Also, if someone left a note like that for you, I’m guessing you’d be pretty happy about it. So why would it be any different for him?
Posted by Rachael on June 6, 2011
Your reasons for not meeting heroes seems to be all about the worry that you might come across as a weirdo but what about the fact that they might be disappointing? Most people I have had the opportunity to come across are lovely but there was one that was not so great and I haven’t been able to listen to his music since.
Posted by marcus aloisi on June 5, 2011
I am a fan of yours, and people i can actually call fans are dwindling in my 30′s – ie all my heroes – maradona, woody allen and martin amis are now all **** or have turned out to be complete idiots. I once approached you at edinburgh, and you were terribly nice, even though you were with your wife. In hindight I should have written you a note and placed it into your back pocket.
Posted by Zoe Fell on June 5, 2011
I too, thought that was you in the photo until I got to that key paragraph. I’m somewhat of an expert in terms of sending/leaving letters for people admire. Comedians are now totally used to a page of scrawled plaudits being passed on to them on my behalf. I’m sure that Gruff will get your letter and be in touch soon – I’m optimistic of that fact anyway.
Posted by Misha on June 5, 2011
I did briefly think that was you in the picture. I imagine this pleases you.
As for meeting your heros well. I met you, and you’re lovely. But then I suppose not everyone is as lucky, or picks as nice people to be enthused and fanatical of? I’m not sure. This has gone a bit odd.
All I can think of from your blog though is Ellis James’ last Edinburgh show, about his love for a band. I think the lead singer of Gorkys Zygotic Munky (sp?) actually did end up taking some kind of injunction out on him mind…
Posted by Ingrid on June 5, 2011
I looked at the picture for a few seconds trying to figure out if it was you or not. But when i saw the T-shirt i was like ‘well it must be mark!’
I’m always to terrified to go and speak to the people i looked up to. Like when i saw russell howard on the train. I just had no idea what to say! I mean how do you even start? ‘Hey… you’ve never met me but i follow you on twitter and watch you on tv…’ It’s just a bit weird, so i ended up not saying anything.
But when I’m in Edinburgh this year I’ve promised myself that i will speak to one comedian i respect. I wish it could be you, but I’m leaving the day before you do your gigs. Talk about bad timing…
Posted by Josh (the magnificent one) on June 5, 2011
A Picture!
Posted by Jen on June 5, 2011
grrr wrong use of ‘your’ in my comment…should be you’re…hmmmm maybe…i don’t know…shouldn’t have highlighted it really….it’s one of those things i do…doh…heyhum never mind!Jx
Posted by Jen on June 5, 2011
hehe…it seems like i did the same as everyone else…looked quickly at the pic and assumed it was you…i like his jumper!….Fab blog…i think people do worry about praise and showing your a fan of things…its such a shame as well because surely thats the aim – surely when we all do things we want people to appreciate it in some way…its difficult when people become ‘well known’ i suppose but the aim should never be forgotten…thats why i like your blogging so much i suppose…ta!Jx
Posted by Alex on June 5, 2011
I didn’t look properly, assumed it was you, and wondered what the hell you were doing.
Posted by ChrisP on June 5, 2011
It’s blogs like this that make this worth reading daily.
I guess you could look at it the other round though and say that maybe some day someone will be influenced by you to go into some sort of performing career and give it a few years and you’ll have a note from an ex fan-boy waiting at a venue.
(Didn’t someone write a books about how everybody’s lives overlap a little bit?)
Posted by Anji on June 5, 2011
I’m hoping that in the time it takes me to do this someone else has posted coz I’m not about to say anything that warrents first comment!
As I was quickly scrolling on my phone I did just assume it was you in the picture, wasn’t until going back and looking that I agreed with the blog that it wasn’t you, but could be! And you should know, you are you! Is this your entry into your lookalike competition?!
Today I found my tickets to see you on Tuesday! After having to move and grabbing the tickets so the ex couldn’t go, I had gotten Mum to put them ‘somewhere safe’ – which i then promptly forgot! Luckily my Mum is wonderful in so many ways, and she remembered! And because she is so wonderful, and because this will be my first gig in my new life, I’m bringing my wonderful Mummy along with me! So, we’ll see you Tuesday. (I know, how lucky are you!)