Walking along Archway Road at about 5pm, I notice a tall, thin, attractive young man with a guitar on his back coming the other way, accompanied by a couple of others. Clearly a band on their way to rehearse, or to a gig. As we pass, I see it’s Pete Doherty. He’s obviously off to soundcheck at the Boogaloo, where Babyshambles are playing once again. He looks at me, and I pull what I suppose is an expression of polite recognition without pretending that I know him personally, because I don’t. Somewhere between blanking and actual acknowledgement of mutual acquaintance. Though in London, it’s considered perfectly acceptable to exchange effusive kisses on both cheeks with someone that you’ve spoken to once in 1997 – and that was only ‘excuse me’ on the way to the Good Mixer’s toilet.
Later on, as a local keen to catch the big events across the road, I watch the Babyshambles set in the pub. The gig is packed, with tickets selling out minutes after they were announced. The trouble with these so-called secret gigs is that you have to tell some people, or you run the risk of the audience purely consisting of the band’s friends and the venue’s extended family of associates (my place being in the latter) . The last time Mr Doherty played here, it looked worrying that this might be the case. Half an hour before stage time, and there was hardly anyone in the room. Thankfully the venue quickly filled up just in time.
Tonight, the balance is about right in the Boogaloo. People can move about between bar and main venue floor, and even the most eldery regular finds a seat given up for him. He always sits at the bar at 10.30pm every night without fail, and has been doing so since the days when the Boogaloo was the Shepherds.
Kate Moss watches from the side, joining in on occasional backing vocals. Babyshambles play for well over an hour, and cover The Stone Roses’ ‘I Wanna Be Adored’. The support is The Outside Royalty, consisting of a lead singer in full dandy garb: high collar, suit and waistcoat, silk tie. He’s backed with a violinist and cellist, and despite this acoustic set up, they play a fast, frantic and winning Roxy Music-like set that’s right up my street. Literally right up my street.
I’m told Babyshambles played a similar ‘secret gig’ at the Dublin Castle a few nights ago, and the venue was so packed it was unpleasant, even frightening for people who were there. But I sympathise with those behind such ventures. Who do you tell, and where, in order to strike the balance between a decent crowd of fans, and a sweaty, gridlocked rugby scrum? ‘Don’t tell anyone, but there’s a gig tonight… Well, actually, DO tell some people!’ How can you ever tell how many will drop what they’re doing and suddenly come to Highgate on a Monday night? Londoners are so fickle, their mobile phones dissolving their schedules like rain. So many choices of what to spend your limited time upon. The phones make the choices flexible even during the evening. You could do anything.
If you go where the zeitgeist is, such as a secret gig across your road by Pete Doherty, it makes it feel more like it Matters. With so much to choose from, the handrail of the media’s chosen few names of the day gleams in the rain of alternative plans. You know the names. They become currency, even a meal ticket if you make a living from their surveillance. A few hundred words mentioning Pete Doherty, Lily Allen, Russell Brand. It will be printed. It will be read. Even poor Germaine Greer is forced this week to write a Guardian piece about her thoughts on Russell Brand, and it’s advertised on that vital space above their masthead. Why? Because she needs to hold on to the handrail, and so does everyone else. It’s a sin to miss out. Doing anything at all is missing out on doing anything else, but missing out on the Zeitgeist seems more so.
In my local corner shop, while I’m photocopying flyers for Beautiful & Damned, a middle class, middle aged Indian woman is avidly chatting with the shop assistant about the latest update on Shilpa Shetty, the Bollywood actress currently in the Celebrity Big Brother house. Her inclusion is possibly the best thing the programme’s done in years, in terms of connecting worlds beyond the usual worlds. If celebrity is measured in terms of how many strangers know your name and face, Ms Shetty is far more famous than the likes of Jade Goody. Not just in India, either. Bollywood movies are bigger in the UK than ever, with the nation’s Top 10 box office chart often including an Indian title that mainstream critics rather shamefacedly have to admit they haven’t seen. Because the whole Bollywood scene is separate from the arthouse World Cinema scene. Bollywood is mainstream, but not in English. Between worlds.
Ken Russell was in the house for a few days, equally not recognised by the younger housemates (or inmates). Before Christmas, I attended a party full of people under 30, and we sat down to watch a DVD of Mr Russell’s Valentino. They all know who Ken Russell is. But then, the young people I know are not the kind you see in the BB house. It would just be too confusing for viewers. The format prefers its young people, especially women, to be a bit dim. Survival of the dimmest. As long as you’re not dim when it comes to maintaining a career of self-promotion.
Hence Ms Goody’s status as a multi-millionaire former housemate turned celebrity. She came fourth in one of the UK Big Brother seasons a few years ago. Kate Lawler, the winner of that year, has ultimately lost to Jade in the longer race of Mattering. And the more Ms G remains famous, the more people seem fascinated with her.
This year’s Celebrity BB house installed her and her family as masters over the ‘real’ celebrities. They had to dress as butlers and maids and literally serve Jade Goody. It was truly a microcosm of the state of celebrity in 2007: acknowledging there’s other worlds to be famous in (the inclusion of Ms Shetty), with the fast-tracked reality show stars (Ms Goody) lording it over the old fashioned, hard working celebs with achievements they can point to.
On entering the house, Jade Goody is approached by one of the others who doesn’t recognise her.
Housemate: So, what do you do?
JG: I was in Big Brother?
With the faux-uncertainty of her Australian Questioning Intonation on top (and all the cultural implications of UK AQI in itself) this single utteration in and out of its context is enough to generate volumes upon volumes of social study, explaining to future generations what identity, celebrity, achievement and recognition means in 2007.
