Jim Bob is heading to Eastbourne in June!

It's something I never thought I'd hear: Jim Bob - the man who once seemingly made it his mission to oust Maggie Thatcher Milk Snatcher through the power of bile-fuelled, politically charged indie music - quoting Phil Collins.

"I do still think of myself as a musician, I suppose," he shrugs as we discuss the fact that, when we spoke last year, he told BobbySix.com that he had no inclination to put out any new songs or albums in the foreseeable future. "In spite of all the books and stuff, that's what I'll always be I guess. I have moments when I think I want to write a new album, usually when I'm inspired by hearing somebody else's music that I either love or hate. Phil Collins said recently that he wasn't making new music because he had nothing to say. I hate to quote Phil Collins but I do feel a bit like that at the moment. I get confused if I think about it too much. I feel like I've betrayed myself as a musician by being lazy."

The good news for attendees of June's That Comedy Thing in Eastbourne is that Jim Bob's back-catalogue is bursting with quality. The singer/songwriter has released plenty of solo records and had best-selling singles and albums in the early 1990s as part of indie/pop/punk/dance crossover duo, Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine. So, considering that he has to squeeze over two decades of music into half-an-hour, what can people expect from his performance at That Comedy Thing at The Lamb Inn? "I'm not totally sure," he admits. "I imagine a fairly short set of songs played on the acoustic guitar. I haven't done a conventional gig for quite some time, so I'll probably make things up closer to the night depending on how I feel at the time." He pauses. "I've made it sound rubbish, haven't I? It'll be an incredible set of my most popular songs interspersed with great anecdotes and probably a bubble machine."

The low-key and intimate night in the ancient Eastbourne alehouse stands in complete contrast to the gigs Jim has in store later in the year. While Carter may have been best-known for silly haircuts and angry social commentary, they were also an absolutely brilliant live band. So much so that, when, in 2007, they announced that they were to reprise the sweat-drenched live Carter experience with shows in London and Glasgow that would simultaneously serve as reunion and farewell gigs, tickets sold out in a heartbeat. Due to their popularity, rather than acting as the full-stop they initially intended them to be, the gigs marked the beginning of an occasional coming-together of Jim Bob and his old mate Fruitbat (below). In November, they'll be stomping around the stages of the Brixton and Manchester Academies, and preparations for these shindigs are coming along steadily. "We've been talking about the gigs and have a rough idea of the songs we'll be playing. We want to make the shows as good if not better than the previous ones. At the moment we have no surprises planned but I imagine there will be some. I tend to spend too much time thinking about what I'm going to wear and what to do with my hair. I'm incredibly shallow."

More pressing than these nights of singalong mayhem is their first festival appearance in a very, very long time. "Need to get fit," Jim says of their headline appearance at Beautiful Days at Escot Park in the heart of Devon in August. "Festival gigs involve more shouting and running than conventional gigs."

Carter concerts and entertaining Eastbourne's most discerning punters aside, Jim Bob's focus lies away from music at the moment. Having released the critically acclaimed novel Storage Stories last year, his new book is well on its way to completion. Storage Stories, a fictional autobiography told in words and pictures, was laugh-out-loud funny, gripping and often rather touching, as Jim Bob combined darkness with the wonderfully witty and surreal to create a strange sense of doomed romance in an otherwise mundane, miserable and menacing England. Will his new offering take a similar shape? "I don't want to curse it yet by giving too much away but basically it's about two blokes in a car driving from Devon to London and one of them has discovered the other's secret. It's similar in style to Storage Stories. It's funny and there are pictures. It's probably a bit darker. I hope to get it out in time for Christmas."

From the enthusiasm with which he talks about his burgeoning writing career, and the fact that he mentions an idea he has had for another book and also a film screenplay, it's clear that this is where Jim Bob's heart lies right now. His creative juices have obviously been stirred and it seems that his foray into the literary world has opened plenty of other doors as well. "I've been enjoying what has happened to me in the past year or so. It was pretty unintended and unplanned. The little bit of acting in the musical Gutted, the comedy-related gigs and the literary events. I've met some amazing new people recently and every now and then one of them asks me to take part in something."

However, while it may seem that Jim's future lies away from the recording studio, excitingly there is still some musical output from this outstanding songwriter. "I've got one newish song on the Miles Hunt Shared album and I've recorded a cover of a song [Mr Blue Sky] for a radio comedy drama theme tune," he tells us. On top of this, two brand new acoustic tracks appeared on his Soundcloud page last month.

With so many creative ventures on the go, these are exciting times for Jim Bob and he is ready to embrace whatever the future throws at him. "Anything could happen really," he beams.

Jim Bob can be seen performing alongside Isy Suttie at The Lamb Inn in Eastbourne as part of That Comedy Thing on Tuesday 7th June. Such a strong line-up will ensure that tickets will sell out fast, so don't delay in booking yours today from Oxboffice.com For more information on Jim Bob, visit his website. In the meantime, here's one of his brand new songs:

LONDON 2012 by mrjimbob

Interview by Rob Townsend.

Carter USM at Brixton Academy

It was always going to be an emotional night. Having been a devout follower of Carter USM since my teenage years, this final full-stop had been circled on my calendar for many months, yet it took arriving at Victoria station and seeing pockets of punters in an array of Carter T-shirts for it to dawn on me that this really was the end. From that moment onwards, the evening was an odd mixture of feelings that skipped between the mortal sense of all good things inevitably coming to an end and a joyous journey down the streets of reminiscence. As I travelled the tube, I noticed that the Carter fans dotted around were older, more sensibly dressed, yet visibly excited at this one final hurrah. Having to push past a posse of touts at Brixton tube station reminded me of a bygone era, but it was arriving at Brixton Academy that really felt like a step back in time: the sold-out sign, the large queue snaking down the road, the flurry of activity at the doors.

This was where it all began for me, in 1993, as a wide-eyed teenager on Carter’s Post Historic Monsters Tour, and so it seemed a fitting place for it to conclude. I took a deep breath and stepped into the auditorium. Here was where the story ended.

As I stood on the exact patch of carpet from where I had first seen my favourite band all those years ago, I bumped into someone I know from my current hometown of Sydney, and it instantly became clear just how much effort people had made to be here for Carter’s swansong. Because of that, the mood at Brixton was buoyant and celebratory and, at 8.30pm, as the band’s hand-picked mix of tunes belted out over the PA, there was a mass singalong to The Wonderstuff. By 8.45, people were crowd-surfing to The Fratellis. It was obvious that this was going to be one hell of a party.

On the dot of nine, Jimbob and Fruitbat bounced onto stage. Jim looked typically focused and handsome; Fruity cheerful and trim. They were welcomed by a full-house that greeted them with an appreciation which bordered on hero-worship. Some of the crowd had followed the duo’s solo careers closely, others hadn’t bought a record since 1992. Regardless, everyone was here tonight to pay tribute to a band that mean a great deal to them. Before the first song had even begun, the stranger next to me had one arm round me and the other high above his head. It was that kind of night.

The set was long and, while not a comprehensive anthology of Carter’s lifespan, was a crowd-pleasing collection of old classics. Opening, of course, with Surfin’ USM, and ripping through tracks from their acclaimed first two albums, 101 Damnations and 30 Something, the band kept the tempo high in the early part of the set, and were even brazen enough to throw away their two biggest hits, The Only Living Boy in New Cross and After The Watershed back-to-back fairly early on. These songs were met with the delirious fervour.

It was loud. Holy fuck, it was so bowel-shakingly loud that my ears are still ringing two days on. The critic in me would perhaps suggest that the sheer volume drowned out some of the subtleties that make Carter’s tracks so special and, at times, they would have benefited from being turned down from eleven. Ultimately though, this mattered not a jot, as everyone in the room sang along to every word anyway. This was less a gig, more a raucous singalong amongst five thousand friends reunited.

 
Highlights included a belting version of The Music That Nobody Likes, an atmosphere-drenched rendition of A Prince in a Pauper’s Grave, the powerful Bloodsport For All and the fitting paean to the underdog, The Impossible Dream. Elsewhere there was a charmingly shambolic version of their first ever single, A Sheltered Life, delicious covers of This is How it Feels and Rent and a typically epic delivery of A Perfect Day To Drop The Bomb.

There were some glaring omissions though, most notably the earth-shatteringly disappointing decision not to play their standout song, Falling on a Bruise. Equally, there was no Midnight on the Murder Mile, arguably Carter’s most underrated track, and, Glam Rock Cops aside, nothing from later than 1993 (in other words, the songs with real drums). However, with just two hours of stage-time and nine years’ back-catalogue, there were always going to be a few casualties, and therefore we had to do without the aforementioned classics, as well as Let’s Get Tattoos, Alternative Alf Garnett and, disappointingly, Re-educating Rita.

The songs Carter did belt out though, and there are too many to recount, were delivered with vigour and energy. Jimbob’s acoustic solo work has really given his voice impressive dexterity, and his former angry and bile-ridden vocal was often replaced by a slightly softer approach. Between songs an affable Jim joked with the crowd, while Fruitbat smiled throughout. They were clearly having a wonderful night and, as the evening drew on, their dreamy gazes into the crowd noticeably grew in length, as they drank it all in for one last time. Equally, individuals in the audience yelled and clapped and jumped and danced with abandon. To my left a man sang every word to every song with his eyes closed, as though he were imagining an earlier time. To my right, a gaggle of men and women linked arms and danced in a circle, like they were at the best wedding reception ever. I repeatedly found myself simply gawping around the venue, mesmerised by the sea of faces that were lost in the moment. It was such a warm feeling, to be amongst so many people that shared a love for my favourite band. Thousands of misfits, united for one last time.


Encoring with an exceptional version of Sheriff Fatman which had the crowd turning cartwheels, Carter fittingly said their final farewell with G.I. Blues. Arms were raised, lungs were opened and tears were shed before the house lights came up and, sadly, it was time to go back to our lives. As I meandered to the tube station past a gang of wide-boys selling knock-off T-shirts, it felt as though a piece of me had been laid to rest in the Brixton Academy. Heavens knows how Jimbob and Fruitbat must have felt.

And so, on November 2nd 2007, the rather strange rollercoaster ride that was Carter The Unstoppable Machine finally stopped. “Tell your kids,” Jimbob said as he held his bottle of wine aloft and exited the stage.

Carter will continue to live in our stereos, our memories and our hearts, and this was a perfect way to say goodbye and to draw a line under a chapter of our history that none of us will ever forget. Goodnight Fruitbat, goodnight Jimbob. Thanks for the memories.

UPDATE: So successful was this reunion, that the band have gone on to play annual shows!