Paperjam

Jane was going to write this up but the poor thing is suffering from memory loss due to the effects of extreme poverty. We're doing all we can, but please help. Just five pounds will buy some menthol fags and just ten will pay for the postage on two unwanted leather coats. A hotline will be set up shortly.

Anyway, last Thursday she drove over to Brum where after a fairly humourless drink in the usually humourous Bacchus bar we have the inevitable noodles before heading to a heaving Academy where the average age is a lot younger than me and the air temperature is rising rapidly.

It's about £12 for three drinks, one of which I didn't order. however it comes in handy for throwing over Jane when she faints after I tell her the price of the round she has just bought.

Larrakin Love come on and do Six Queens which is pretty good, they play a load of stuff off the album, but not Meet Me By The Getaway Car, which I really like.

We slipstream some indie kids to get nearer the front, it really is very busy in here indeed. When DPT arrive things go a bit crazy, and the crowd surges all over the shop to the opening Wondering and Gentry Cove. Looks like I've lost Jane, crowd surfing has kicked off, is that her going over the top? I hope not as the treatment from the bouncers for those reaching the barriers looks a little unfriendly.

Deadwood is great, the crowd is bouncing around and I reckon I've lost about half a stone in sweat so far, it's going in my eyes and stinging like a swine. Some bird drags me almost to the front, before realising that I'm not "Tony", she's not happy.

There goes You Fucking Love It, very good and a welcome Libertines interlude in the shape of The Good Old Days. A bang on the back of the head and here is Jane looking almost as sweaty as me. The trumpet is out and they finish with Bang Bang You're Dead.

There follows a really, really, really dull encore, which cheers up a bit when they conclude with I Get Along, but where is Don't Look Back Into The Sun, or maybe Time For Heroes? Oh well, they are off as the drummer applauds the crowd and we go outside to marvel at just how sweaty we are and I take the piss out of Carl Barat for his rolled up t-shirt sleeves. Jane drives back while laughing at me and the general concensus is that it was Ok but the encore really was total shit.

First it was The Young Knives rapidly selling out the poxy Academy 2 and forcing me into the hyper-inflated world of Ebay (my arse is still sore from paying for the last lot of tickets I got there). Now my nightmare is compounded by the release of the Art Brut tour schedule. Are they playing anywhere round here? Anywhere even vaguely nearby? Are they fuck.

The closest is either Manchester or Reading, the most likely is London, or possibly even Paris. I can only hope that this boycott of the Midlands is not due to the unfortunate confusion at the bar the first time we saw them in Birmingham. If so can only apologise.

And could I buy the Beck album in Woolworths today? No. No I fucking couldn't, not even after a ten minute wait in a queue listening to some Bon Jovi attrocity blaring out with Steve hanging around - a seething mass of indignation. Get to the counter with the box and after another ten minutes, the two rocket scientists on duty realised that Beck was probably filed under "B" and then that they had sold the one copy that they had.

No wonder they're going to the wall.

It's 2 cans of lager on a sweaty train for me and Nick followed by a mix up with ginger chicken noodles and a very tactile waitress. Then a couple of subterranean drinks in the deserted Yard Of Ale before we head to the Academy. Nightmare at the bar; I get two pints and a pair of double whiskies, £17, I feel faint. Balancing the empty glasses on a precarious ledge somewhere we head back in when the band start up.

Laid back guitar pop with plenty of spliff smoke hanging in the air. Chilled. After a bit, (Dr ?) Anton Newcombe's blood alcohol level reaches the point for him to start giving a bit of love to the crowd. It's something of a ramble about the germans bombing the chippy and how we all need a blow-job - but it is quite funny. The BJM start getting into it and the music gets really good, if a touch riff-tastic, it could just be that I am pissed by now. Some of the songs descend into extended workout action, which is quite good. We try to get a bit of crowd action going, nothing happens - they are all completely stoned, but the band are jumping around regardless.

We meet the lovely Jo who works at the council in Worcester, she acts like she isn't a lawyer but I suspect she might be. Her pissed friend got her a ticket for her birthday. Dr Anton dedicates a song to her and says he would like to shag all the housewives in the country on her behalf. No-one understands, they play a song theat sounds a bit REM, Nick and I are unimpressed. Jo goes to the bar for us, what a star.

The music gets more shamelessly retro but is still totally entertaining, Anton gets his kit off to reveal the sort of strange child-like torso that can only be acheived by maintaining a really strict heroin habit. The ranting between songs is going on a bit now, the bombed-the-chippy stuff is getting a bit tired. Is he going to kick off? Thankfully no.

It all finishes up in an appropriate hail of riffs and drum rolls, Jo's mate reckons they are getting a lift home with the band, Jo really doesn't look so sure. We wish her good luck and get to Moor Street in plenty of time for the last train. We both enjoyed it immensely without really being able to say why. If you want to see the BJM I would definitely recommend somewhere smaller like the Academy 2 where it can be intense and closed in, also get a few drinks down your neck beforehand, it will help immeasurably.

Finally a word for the crowd tonight: You were shit (mostly).