Bassist Alex James, along with Damon Albarn, Graham Coxon and Dave Rowntree, formed Blur in 1988. In 2023, Blur brought out their ninth studio album, The Ballad of Darren, and played two sold-out nights at Wembley Stadium. Alex started making cheese in 2003, and hosts an annual food and music event, the Big Feastival, on his farm in the Cotswolds. He is married to Claire Neate and has five children – Geronimo, twins Artemis and Gallileo, Sable and Beatrix. His book, Over the Rainbow, is his account of Blur’s reformation and tour in 2023.
Why Over the Rainbow?
I just think there was a proper sense of enchantment with Blur getting back together. It was magical. But it started with me cacking it on the M40 on the way into London for that first meeting with the band, to see if we could do it… four stone overweight, and just thinking: “What band doesn’t hate one another at this point?”
But it worked.
With bands, it’s either completely impossible or completely effortless. And going to the gym to get into my Britpop trousers was hard, the travelling was hard, keeping Feastival going was hard. But actually playing the bass with Blur, it was like riding a bike downhill, purely joyous.
You lost four stone through eating broth and working out every day. Did you never think of doing the weight-loss jab?
No. The great thing about going to the gym is it is horrible, but it works. When you’re running a festival, you never know whether it’s going to work. You know: Kelis turned up, didn’t do Milkshake. Natalie Imbruglia is there but her band didn’t turn up. It might rain. Did you see those tents going off in a whirlwind at Leeds this year? Terrible. Whatever you do, you can’t actually guarantee that a festival is going to work. But when it comes to the gym, when you are doing your 100th burpee, you know that it’s fucking working.
Let’s talk Feastival. It’s clear from the book that it takes up a lot of your time, even while you’re touring with Blur. It’s also clear that you love it, especially the cheese hub. What is the cheese hub?
It’s our party within the party of Feastival, the world’s stupidest nightclub that’s open three days a year. There’s food and music and geekery. Professors get a free pass: you can get a world expert in anything for much less hassle than a B-list celebrity. What I’ve learned from running a festival is it’s brilliant if you can teach people something in the daytime, and then let them forget everything in the evening. Geek out, freak out. That’s the magic formula.
Would you say that your personality leans towards having a good time?
Hopefully, yes. My dad was a thoroughly contented soul. He was evacuated to Wales when he was a kid and had a younger sibling who died. An incredibly challenging childhood, but he always saw the bright side in everything. I grew up in sunny Bournemouth, and Graham Coxon was the first person I saw when I arrived in London. I’ve been blessed. It’s a gift.
I’ve always thought that Graham plays against you in Blur’s music. If you think of Girls and Boys, you’re doing a disco bassline and his guitar is angular noise.
That’s called counterpoint. That’s the magic. You need your lemon juice and you need your honey. It’s like cookery. That’s why it works. We play off one another, all of us, not just me and Graham. We wrote She’s So High the first time we were all in a room together.
When you think about the 1990s, what do you remember?
For me, the 90s started in the Crown on Brewer Street. As soon as There’s No Other Way was a hit, I moved out of the condemned building in Lewisham where I’d been living, into Covent Garden, and never looked back. Drinking with people like you and the Smash Hits crew. Drinking beer, playing darts, telling stories, smoking, talking about how shit other bands were, talking about bands we were going to see that night. It was great when [Stephen] Jelbert from the Family Cat turned up, because he could empty the triv machine.
What music did you like when you were a teenager?
I got beaten up because I was the only one in my class that liked Wham! and the Smiths. I had them written on my bag, a book bag probably. That was where you stated your identity, and if you weren’t cool you got a kicking. “Wham! and the Smiths? Wanker.” The food of your childhood and the music of your teenage years are two things that you can never, ever escape from.
In the book, there’s a time when you are nearly bankrupted by the combination of Feastival and Blur.
It was hairy. Lockdown killed us – I couldn’t get a loan and I wasn’t going to get paid for six months. The band couldn’t pay, because we needed all the money for production rehearsals.
You survive because you borrow off Claire’s mum, and then the Vindaloo song royalties come in.
It’s a bit like having a Christmas record, having a football record. There’s football every two years, and if England have a good run, when they get to the quarter-finals, it starts kicking in. When they get to the semis, it goes fully bonkers. And it came in. Oh, my God, that was such a good day. I literally hadn’t had lunch all year. Maybe an apple. And the whole family went to [Mayfair restaurant] Scott’s. That was one of the all-time great lunches.
Blur played two nights at Wembley, what are your memories?
I really pushed hard for Out of Time to be included. And it starts off so quietly, and I actually had my eyes closed, and I was just floating off, in it, and it was really, really quiet. I was like: “Fucking hell, they’re not getting it.” And I opened my eyes, and everyone had their camera light up. Oh my God, I might start crying. Everyone.
Oasis are playing Wembley next year, what do you think about that?
I’m so happy for them. Delighted. They’re great. I like them. You know, there’s some people – mentioning no names – that when they walk in a room, you’re like: “Oh, fucking hell, he’s here.” But when either of them walk into a room, it’s like: “Heyyy.” He’s an incredible singer, Liam, and he can’t help being a rock star. And it’s nice that they waited till we got our shit out the way, you know? That’s very good manners.
When you first meet up, Damon, Graham and Dave are all making their own music and they ask what you’re up to, and you say you’re trying to make a giant Frazzle. Have you made it yet?
Not quite. I’m still trying to create it and I’m really hoping to have it ready for Feastival this year. But the recipe is basically a trade secret. The E-number stuff is all listed on the back of the packet, but it’s the technique. It’s like KFC. Everyone thinks it’s the Colonel’s special blend. But actually, it’s the pressure fryer that’s the real secret. We’ll get there.
Over the Rainbow by Alex James is published by Particular Books (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
