xlad

Heaven In Fire

PopStar Chronicles.
Heaven In Fire.

Within a few months I recorded enough songs to fill an album. Instead of weeding out the best ones for a demo tape, I was greedy and all puffed up with my own amazingness. Why bother trying to get a record deal when I had an album in the can ready to blow?

I decided I was going to release my own album, I'd start with Hastings then branch out nationwide. Once I'd dominated the UK, the world would be mine. I honestly thought I could do it all.

The most important thing apart from the music was of course the album cover so I arranged a photo shoot with a local photographer. I wanted something classy in black and white, but the photographer wanted to snap me with my top off. I offered a compromise by getting down on the floor and firing off my most seductive look.

I wanted the front cover to show my sophisticated side, the back cover I imagined to be a greyscaled brick wall with the song titles sprayed on like graffiti.
Over 50 photos were shot but I wasn't really happy with any of them. I couldn't afford to get any more done so selected a few of the more passable ones.

In the local classifieds section I spotted an ad for CD duplication and put an order in for an initial 100 units. All I had to do was send off the master tapes and artwork (as well as a large amount of money) and wait a week.

Finally I got the call - my Cd's were ready. I was too impatient to wait for them to be delivered so demanded a friend take me to collect them. I didn't dare open that box until I got it safely home. A small gaggle of friends gathered for the grand unveiling ceremony. We oohed and ahhed until I discovered the covers were the wrong way round.
The front cover was now the brick wall, my 'stunning portrait' was relegated to the back with the song titles now on the inlay.

No matter, the music was what really counted and the music was why my friends were gathered round. Up until then I tried to keep my album project a secret.
But as the first song played I realised that no matter how semi-professional the product looked, you couldn't escape the fact that the songs had been recorded on a karaoke machine. The songs were there, the sound quality wasn't.

The album was called 'Heaven In Fire', I can't remember why, I think it was a bullshit artistic flourish. The 17 tracks included some I've already shared here (Josephine, No Angels, Baby & I, Prisoner Of Love) as well as a smattering of faux rock:

and a great big dollop of cheesy pop

All I needed to do now was get my limited run of 100 in as many shops as possible causing a buying frenzy and panic as the stock sold out. First step was to drum up support from the local press. While I scanned the pages for the entertainment section I recognised one of my old buddys looking a bit poorly. According to the story he was suffering from Leukaemia and was setting up blood screenings with the aim of finding a bone marrow match. For a while my silly album was shelved and I took myself along to one of the screenings. I promised Matthew I'd do everything I could to help.
And then it struck me - how about a charity album?!

It was perfect, for every copy sold I'd donate 30% to charity as well as raising awareness for myself!
Obviously looking back it wasn't perfect at all, I was literally dancing on poor Matthews grave. On the other hand I did raise a little bit of cash for the Anthony Nolan Bone Marrow Trust. Inside each copy of the album was a little information pack about the disease, I was educating as well as entertaining.

'Heaven In Fire' did make it to a few of the local stores and thanks to the local press as well as orders from readers I sold all but two of my initial stock. I didn't set the world on fire, if anything I was a small town star but I proved I could do it.

Most importantly of all, Matthew got better.
I wouldn't dare think that had anything to do with the healing power of my songs.

PopStar Chronicles
Greatest Hits.

Part 1 Boyfriend/Girlfriend

Part 2 Intermission

Part 3 Open Mike & The Pervert

Part 4 Live & Sexually Frustrated

Part 5 In The Studio

Part 6 The Transexual, The Married Man & Me

Ladflims Proudly Presents ...

Xlad - The Movie!

Project Strawberry.

When I was round my grandmas on Friday I asked her what she wanted for christmas. I expected her to request either another bottle of Tweed or a signed photo* of her favourite grandchild (which obviously would be me), but instead she asked for the new Westlife album.
The way I raised my eyebrows and wrinkled up my nose told her to hope for something else.
"How about the new Michael Buble CD?" offered Granny, nervously. That was a much better choice, no grandmother of mine is listening to Westlife.

Anyway, I didn't start tippytapping to tell you about granny matters, what I originally wanted to share with you is this:

My favourite TV show at the moment is ... Project Runway or as it's better known, 'Bitches & Stitches'.

Basically its like The Apprentice but set in the world of fashion. At the end of every episode the contestants have their designs showcased on the cheapest looking catwalk ever in front of industry bigwigs and minor celebrities. There's lots of bitching and a whole heap of nasty ass frocks. But the main reason I love this show so much is because of this guy... Mr Chris Straub.

Not only is he dreamymCcreamy but his surname is the abbreviation of my favourite fruit. I have a funny feeling that he was put on earth just for me. If I'm honest his designs aren't all that, but all I really care about is pretending I'm a thimble on the end of his thumb.

I'll leave you with this swoony 10 second video he youtubed just for me.

*I have been known to bestow signed framed photos of myself to my friends for birthdays. One christmas I gave everyone tshirts with a stunning portrait of me on the front and 'Xlad World Tour' on the back.

Throne Duty

In this weeks Hastings Observer there's an article about a fellow local homosexualist who's desperate to become famous. He's already been on a reality tv show and has now auditoned for Britains Got Talent.

He goes to the same skin clinic as me for his Botox and always signs his name in the guest book with a great big smiley face folowed by the name of the tv show he was on. He's in his 40's, possibly 50's and really should know better.

I'm tippy tapping this while I'm on the loo for two reasons. The first being that when I flush away the morning log, symbolically I'll be sending this laughable excuse of a contender for Hastings Most Important Gay down to the sewer from whence he came.

The second reason is to point out that on the opposite page of 'his story' is the headline:

"Police Warning Over Cheap Fags."

x

Rihanna - Exposed!

The new Rihanna album is a triumph. She's no longer a pop strumpet, these days she's a little bit dubstep, a little bit rock and a grimy motherfucking bitch. She doesn't want to sing about umbrellas, she wants to cut you up 'coz she's a fucking nutjob.

Just look at some of the song titles from her new long player:

Mad House
Hard
Rockstar 101
Russian Roulette
Fire Bomb
G4L (Gangster For Life - yeah that's right Rihanna's a fucking Gangster, not just for now or the next few days, she's packing heat.... for life!)

There's one track that stands out above all others. It's the albums pivotal chilled out moment where the bitch shows us she's still all tender and fuzzy and really quite human, just like you and I.
It's called 'Stupid In Love' and is worthy of dissection.

It kicks of with a triple beat of a timpani, a bit like the beginning of the Pet Shop Boys Paninaro. A piano twinkles over a bed of imitation finger snaps and Rihanna starts singing:

"Mm
Stupid in love
Ohhh
Stupid in love
Hmm"

The hmmmmm incidentally is completely not the same thing as a mmmmmmm, it's all in the inflection like the 2nd ella off of 'umbrella ella ellla eh eh eh'.
After a few more timpani hits she starts singing, although she's not really singing, it's more of a talkysing, she's good at that.

"Let me tell you something..."
Now that's a brilliant way to start, she's drawing me in to her confidence and I feel like she's about to share a secret, I'm genuinely excited.

"Never, have I ever... been a size ten in my whole life".
I wasn't expecting that. She's practically admitting she's always been chubby. I'm applauding her bravery and yet wondering where this is going.

"I left the engine running
I just came to see
What you would do if I gave you a chance to make things right"
Oh I was expecting something about pies and vomit.

"So I made it, even though Katy told me that this will be nothing but
A waste of time
And she was right.... Ummmm"
Who the hell is Katy? Now I'm interested, she's telling me her friends name, I feel closer to Rihanna already.

"Don’t understand it, blood on your hands
and still you insist on repeatedly trying to tell me lies"
Hold on a minute - she's singing about Chris Brown, you know... the guy that knocked her about, which means the blood on his hands must have been hers!

She then goes on to explain that she's dumb but she's not stupid when she's in love. Which is quite brave of her to admit, you don't get many popstars these days admitting how thick they are.

Now I know Rihannas been the victim of domestic abuse and she's now like the patron saint of bruises and I shouldn't be taking the piss - but the bitch didn't even write the damn song!
I mean come on Ri-Ri - if you're going to come out with a post abuse concept album at least write the damn thing yourself.