Unable to sleep, unable to write, cursing the cheap pink fan I bought that only succeeds in redistributing London's hot air back into my face, even with the window open, I find myself thinking about Hobbyism. It probably doesn't help that I've also just watched the film "Adaptation", concerning as it does a writer stricken with self-doubt about his own talent, his own worth.

When strangers ask me what I Do, and they're not even a member of the Royal Family, I try to remain calm. Immediately my entire life is called into question. I am in the dock. I say I'm a writer, but my magazine pieces are very sporadic, and besides I'm just not interested, or more to the point very good at, being a Journalist. I'm more of a Book Writer, but I've never had any books published. Though that's mainly because the books are all unfinished, which doesn't help. I intend to do something about that shortly.

I sometimes say I'm a Professional Being, that I've had my photo taken by magazines in clubs for just being me, and even taken to lunch by the editorial staff of one style mag to dish out my Philosophy Of Dickonism. But it rarely results in a proper piece, because I have no Product to plug.

Well, I do: Fosca. And myself. But neither Fosca nor I have a bullying PR person, so I am effectively nothing. No one will listen to you if you don't have a PR person. Even Mr Christ was a client of Messrs Mark, Matthew, Luke and John Associates. Who also do Geri Halliwell.

As I believe Ms James of the late and strangely fashionable again Transvision Vamp put it, you are born to be sold. You just need someone to do the selling.

On top of that, it's all about PR timing as well. Articles, interviews and reviews have to be synchronised with release dates of Product. And then, if, say, the Radioheads have a new record out, everything else lesser gets cancelled or postponed. How to know your place, indeed.

It's the world where a single chart position much below #25 means Failure and being thrown off the label. All those people involved in plugging your music, most of whom you've never met and are likely to change jobs halfway through their sentences, so much money being spent without your say-so, everything depending on whether Mr Jeff Chins, 46, Head Of Music at Radio Snort, likes your singles or not. If he doesn't, you've had it. You're making music for no one but him. Which is, obviously, no way to make music. But that is the only Proper way to do it.

I tried being in that world once, with the band Orlando. The Proper Pop world in 1995 was a ruthless, masculine Britpop beast back then, too much for a fragile gossamer thing like myself. And it's clearly far, far, worse right now. When people, and this does still happen, stuff their demos into my hand and ask ME for advice on Making It in the pop world (stop laughing), I instruct them to go on one of those TV programmes and be prepared to sing some granny-pleasing old tune. Or be like The Coral, and make records that sound so completely akin to the hits of decades outworn without actually being cover versions, that it's impossible for Radio Q to NOT playlist you. People will always want the Old, but with the illusion of the New. That's a given. But what's the point?

I <i>could</i> try doing it all over again with Fosca. Hustle the right people until they give in. Stranger things have happened. One of the Headcoatees was in the NME the other week, for being in the same recording studio as Derek from the White Strokes. But my nerves couldn't take it, to be honest. And, the crucial difference this time is, I don't <i>care</i> about the Proper Music World anymore. It seems unfair to expect it to care about me.

So, the band I'm in, Creme Brulee, I mean Fosca, is PR-less. We couldn't afford one, as it is, existing as we do on earnings after the event rather than (as with Proper groups) before. Said earnings are all ploughed back into future band costs. Fosca makes a profit, but not enough of one for myself and my bandmates to do it full-time. We have to get by with jobs or benefits depending on how lucky we are. Recording dates and gigs have to be scheduled around work days. Sometimes people have to use their precious allotted holiday days for Fosca. I'm the luckiest one, surviving (just about) on benefits. The others really should nag me more, they've every right to.

Glen from Piano Magic once said to me, "The only good bands are the ones with day jobs". Where the lack of pressure to Succeed results in better music. That's a theory I don't entirely agree with, but the parable of Hear'Say is one that should be foremost in the thoughts of every contestant of Fame Academy.

I'm currently writing the rest of the third Fosca album. Which most of the Real World will never know about. Purely because Look Ma, No PR. We are a band on a tiny one-man cottage-industry indie label with no PR, no radio plugger, no tour agent, no press officer, no manager, and no millions in a marketing budget. Success is impossible, because you have to spend money to make money. We are, as far as the Real World is concerned, a Hobby Band. Hobby as opposed to Proper.

So why bother at all? If a job's worth doing it's surely worth doing Properly?

Well, as ever, it's partly the passive soul in me. We never hustle. For better or for worse. Shinkansen ask and pay Fosca to make records. Promoters invite Fosca to play concerts. At each gig we play, people buy our albums at the merchandise stall, so that helps us to do it again another day. And we get invited to play in foreign countries, which is highly recommended as an interesting way to kill time between now and the grave.

And today I had an email confirming that <a href="http://www.rockacola.com/music/artist.asp?artist_no=19100">our 2002 album, "Diary Of An Antibody" has just been released on license in Taiwan</a>. A friendly Canadian who resides over there has this to say (with apologies if they're reading this):

<i>They have done a fantastic packaging job. You might also be pleased to note that, although I live in a fairly small town in Taiwan (there are a grand total of 4 record stores in my entire city), there were no less than 5 copies of "Diary" prominantly displayed on the front rack of my small local store… There were also 5 imported copies of the original Shinkansen26 "On Earth To Make The Numbers Up" in the section next to 5 more "Diary" CDs. I was absolutely floored (I never found your CDs this easily in Canada, for pity sake!).</i>

So it's possible Fosca could be Big In Taiwan. Or at least, Vaguely Visible In Taiwan. We were invited to play a festival over there recently, but had to turn it down due to a big disease with a little name. As Mr Prince once put it. But it's likely we'll go there soon. And that, too, helps with the Justification of Fosca.

Also, I'm pleased about Fosca existing at all. Everything we've recorded, as the saying goes, brings something new to the party. At least, in my head. I'm immensely proud of "Storytelling Johnny" and "Rude Esperanto" in particular. If I hadn't written those songs, I'd be impossibly envious of the person who had.

I can't deny I'd like to be on the PR Radar a bit more than I am. But that's really for me as Dickon Edwards. Forcing Fosca on the current UK music scene seems harder than ever. With no PR and no desire to hustle, it's pretty much impossible. It's no good just making The Greatest Album Of The Year. You have to hire someone to tell people this fact as well. And then get the "buzz" going. With the right "angle". And so on. I used to believe in All That. Now I just find it boring and would much rather listen to The Supremes or The Smiths or Galaxie 500 for the 738th time. The Darknesses? The YeahNo YeahNo YeahNos? Well, I suppose they're All Right. If you like that sort of thing. Guitars, drums, heigh-ho. If you insist. If you say so. Can I go now? I'm nearly 32 and there's still so much I have to say, and have to do.

But enthuse about Richard Marsh's "The Beetle", or the new Alan Bennett play, and I will sit up and take notice.

So it's just as well I'm happy with Fosca's part-time, no-pressure little world. It's just as well that the current music scene has less interest for me than ever before, especially if the feeling is mutual. One thing's for certain about the new Fosca album. It won't sound like anything else around right now. Purely because, I haven't <i>listened</i> to anything else around right now.

The only CD I've bought this year, aside from the Hidden Cameras, is <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0563494352/qid=1059798068/sr=1-5/ref=sr_1_3_5/026-8463195-2166843">"Ladies Of Letters"</a>. Patricia Routledge, Prunella Scales. Marvellous.