In fact, no. In fact, short of Jockrock’s Golden Clefts Awards (which I organised myself, so they don’t really count), the only award cermony I’ve been to was The List’s Eating and Drinking awards (I’d reviewed Stereo, and The Kalpna, the latter in particular disgracefully overlooked, but anyway, the wine flowed and the canapes were, as you’d expect, very tasty).

But aside from the massively expensive (and all for charidee) Tartan Clefs, we don’t really do awards ceremonies for music in Scotland. Which is presumably why we’re here tonight, for the inaugural SNMAs (as we’ll call them). And while they’re not quite at the £100 a ticket level (yet), that is probably the point – more of a grass roots event for sure, but without the indie-schmindie shambolic nature of something like the Jockrock show. And yes, despite much cynicism in the run-up to Scotland’s newest awards, they (spoliler alert) turned out quite nicely.

Whatever the point behind the SNMAs is, it is about honouring Scottish music. Although, what constitures ‘Scottish’ is, as in football, a grey area. There are a set of rather complicated residency conditions that could have seen Craig Mackail Smith show up if he’d made a record, and to be honest, the absence of Kevin Rutkiewicz was a bit of a surprise given the level of some of the nominees. As it happens, the equivalent of the Scottish granny rule does allow The Skinny Magazine and Fresh Air FM to collect awards, but most of the accents heard tonight are a little more broad, with presenter The Wee Man (a former Plimptons drummer, no less) and rappers Werd and Wardie Burns carrying the torch for the Scots brougue.

Nationality issues aside, the awards are open to anyone not signed to a major label – that rather vague recurring condition which excludes the big hitters like Biffy Clyro, although the boys are present in spirit – more of that later on. The organisers have already stated that the Tartan Clefs covers the big hitters, and other ceremonies such as the Scottish Alternative Awards are there for largely indie-oriented music.

So the SNMAs attempt to cover, well, pretty much everything else..

That means we have a massive and in-places baffling array of categories – 40 in all. I know from bitter experience that a 6-award ceremony will be a nightmare to organise, though to be fair we had bands playing half-hour sets. Here, it’s one song and you’re off. There’s a bunch of ‘industry’ awards to present first (which is why I’m here, having both Jockrock and isthismusic.com up for Best Website) to be followed by the more obvious ones such as Best Band. As I hinted, the category nominations are what’s caused most disquiet, with some decidedly odd lineups in ‘Rock’ and ‘Alternative’ (and, as far as I know, there may be similar mutterings among the Roots, Jazz and Folk communities).

The guest performers and presenters listed beforehand are likewise an array of same-old-same-old, and “whooooo??”, but as we arrive – 6.30 sharp! – Edward Reid is wooing the crowd. The camp comic (TM Daily Record) – I think he may have been on the X Factor? – changes his outfit around 10 times during the proceedings, but is exuberant and grabs the attention of a increasingly inebriated crowd, as well as showing off a decent singing voice, his Mariah-style version of ‘Ally Bally Bee’ keeping the comical theme going.

Indeed, the biggest name on the performers’ lineup is probably cult bluesman Dave Arcari and as we arrive he’s been roped into presenting an award, but as it turns out, the organisers must have called in a few favours or thrown some cash at the event – Des Clarke, Sanjeev Kohli and a Leon Jackson /Sandi Thom dream team double act read off the nominees in batches of five or so.
Admittedly, there’s no-one quite as big as Gary Lightbody out of Snow Patrol, but hey, we can’t expect the same highs that the Jockrock Awards reached.

Celebs aside, there’s a surreal atmosphere – former BBC presenter Tony Currie does a kind of disembodied Mysterons voiceover as Celtic Music Radio broadcasts to Glasgow and the world. Though not as surreal as “self-trained classical singer” (according to the programme) Nicola Cassells who does an operatic version of ‘Many of Horror’ backed up by function band Dignan Dowell and White.

It’s a busy crowd in the former porn cinema (downgraded from the Barras), although the amount of attendees who’ve actually showed up to collect their flashy-looking trophies is quite small, which means that proceedings crack on at a fair old pace. Adam Stafford gets an award but, sadly, was not a recipient of a pass from the flood of free tickets, so he is unable to pick up his gong for directing the video for The Twilight Sad’s ‘7 Years of Letters’. Brendan O’Hare delivers the shortest acceptance speech – “Piss off!” – for his Live Engineer prize, but despite Chemikal Underground winning Best Label, there’s no-one to collect (unusual for former Delgado Stewart Henderson to miss a chance for a party). Though given the speed we’re rattling through the awards there’s not much time for chatter, which is just as well as the venue is pretty much in pitch darkness anyway.
Artist Manager Dee Bahl (Biffy) is likewise absent, perhaps just as well given the murdering of his charges’ hit, which makes Matt Cardle’s version seem almost bearable.

That’s it for indie-ish content in the ‘Industry’ half, apart from the studios, Berkley 2 and Green Door respectively – and curiously, it’s the big hitters who seem to miss out – Celtic Music Radio winning over obvious favourites like Radio One’s Muslim Alim and Mandi Freeman. It’s not clear if these are picked by a public vote, or by judges, though given the reception that some winners receive either there’s a serious black market for tickets, or that I have been wrong about every aspect of music in Scotland. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

Another surreal moment arrives when we’re informed by Voiceover Man that the awards are running an hour UNDER time. So Edinburgh act Metal Tech – Fisher Price Slipknot in appearance and Bon Jovi-with-a-rhythm-unit musically – do a couple of numbers as the organisers attempt to pad out the missing 60 minutes.

On with the presentations. Not long to go now. ‘Roots’ goes to an infeasibly tall and blond Scottish woman, Joy Dunlop… ah, the penny drops – “that kind of Roots!” I exclaim. Though isn’t that Folk/Traditional? Apparently not.

Metal DJ Tom Russell comes up to cover the noisy end of the categories, and lives up to his stereotyope – doing the macho metal thing to a tee, he ushers his rather more glamourous colleague centre stage to give us a twirl while he hogs the mic, though he does deign to let her open the envelope and announce the winners.

Ah yes, those categories again. We have Rock, Loud/Metal, Alt/Indie… but bizarrely, no Classical. Glasgow indies Suspire are a surprise winner in the Alt category, though not as big a surprise as ska act Bombskare in Punk – the band more surprised than the audience. Sandi Thom picks up a Jazz/Blues award and tries to explain away this given that her first 2 albums were folk, Merchants and Thieves had “a more jazz / bluesey feel”. Ohhhh-kay…
Sandi then presents a batch of prizes with Leon Jackson, before wee Leon takes the stage to give us some self-penned material. Among all the oddness of the event this is the biggest surprsie – the Bathgate X-factor winner has a surprisingly fine voice, and his songwriting isn’t bad either… however, an increasingly drunken crowd are in chatting and ligging mode by now and the acoustic tunes aren’t strident enough to grab the attention.

To be honest, we’re flagging now, and as Edward fills in with some Hi-NRG disco, it’s time to call a halt – we’ll miss ‘Group of the Year’ but since we’ve heard of none of the nomimees it shouldn’t be a great loss.

As we hit the motorway, a dissection of the night’s events.
In some senses, the night was a disappointment. We’d expected a car-crash of an event with Sam Fox/Mick Fleetwood pairings, cocked-up lines and stumbling bands. What we got was some great turns from the presenters – especially Sanjeev who appeared twice owing to an absent Michelle McManus – very slick performances from Bombskare and Leon Jackson and the always-entertaining Dave Arcari. However, it lacked excitement – a performance from Jill Jackson, formerly of Speedway and a top 10 act (really?!?!) kind of summed things up – competent but ultimately a little bit safe and corporate, And, although potentially sounding like sour grapes, objectively there are some decidedly odd choices in some of the categories, and as the event grows, more transparency in the voting will be required – if like the Jockrock awards it’s chosen by a judge or judges, that’s fine, as long as it’s upfront, as public votes are if anything more open to abuse. But fine tuning aside there’s not much to fault about the event – if they can only figure out precisely why it exists. Adam Plimpton may have been wrong about past events, but I suspect we’ll be seeing a few more of these in coming years.

Full results, I assume, will be online at www.scotmusicawards.co.uk

Such is the respect afforded the venues by the cooler clubbers of the city that even hardened carnivores are prepared to at the very least sample the range of beers and wines – no sign of the ubiquitous T here – or organic soft drinks.

Decor in the bar/restaurant area is like everything else understated – housed in a listed, Mackintosh-designed building, exterior sineage is, it seems, forbidden, but full advantage is taken of the large picture windows. The interior is unfinished in appearance, the unisex toilets clean but spartan. All of this adds to the indie cool.
Likewise, service is friendly and not overbearing, and the extensive menu offers a laid-back flexibility – a comforting soup of the day arrives with organic bread, baked on the premises, but breakfast options are available all day so the tofu scramble serves as an evening starter. Complemented by the equally tasty tomato and apple chutney, the smoky aroma hits the nostrils before the first forkful.

The calzone comes recommended to us and with good reason, puffy pizza dough (again baked inhouse) conceals a zesty sun-dried tomato and courgette mix. The cottage pie – napalm-hot – is perhaps the only ‘traditional’ vegetable dish on the menu with lentils the meat ‘substitute’. However, it’s surprisingly moist and tasty with the potato topping showing just the right amount of crispness.

Desserts come from a daily selection of cakes and pastries, available for all-day takeaway at the deli counter, but the special – non-dairy cheesecake – tests out the vegan credentials. Thankfully, though the consistency is a little blancmange-like, a crumbly base and raspberry jus easily compensate.

With its central location and impressive housing, it seems Stereo has the lot – well, apart from the built-in record shop that its Kings Court sister venue Mono boasts. However, its stated aim is to be known as a good food establishment rather than simply a veggie restaurant. On first showing, it seems that these objectives are well within reach.

20-28 Renfield Lane, Glasgow, 0141 222 2254
Open seven days for breakfast, lunch and dinner (last orders 8pm)
Average price for two-course evening meal: £10

(review originally appeared in The List just after the venue opened in late 2007)

Until we saw a piece in the Herald that morning. A tribute to Lafayette, a superstar magician of from the early 1900s – in fact, one who’d perished 100 years ago, to the week. In Edinburgh’s Festival theatre.
It all looks like an interesting diversion. Ok, the magician paying tribute is Paul Daniels – a cheesy TV showman at best, a fairly rabid Tory supporter at worst – but putting that aside, an interesting night out. And I’m a sucker for magic and illusions, and Daniels can be relied upon to deliver. So we order online, getting cheap seats pretty close to the front of the stalls (cheap due to their being a bit to one side, I guess, but not a big problem – since much of the show turns out to involve close-up magic this proves to be a good option).

Following a quick preamble and a slideshow on Lafayette, Daniels announces that he won’t be recreating the trick that Lafayette was performing the night he died. Since that involved a lion and a horse (the magician died going back into the burning building in a vain attempt to rescue his equine partner) that’s understandable, though the theme of the tricks is pretty much vintage. and low-tech. David Copperfield this certainly ain’t.

The show itself isn’t bad. In two parts, the first half is a mix of Daniels pretty much in the persona you know from his TV appearances – doing stand-up comedy and the odd close-up trick, combined with a couple of showpiece illusions – an assistant bursts out of a dolls’ house the set almost peaks too early such is the surprise element of this trick. Some more card trickery and another more involved illusion, where a woman in a standing cabinet is split into 3 (achieved by 3 large bladed sections that slot into where her head, stomach and legs presumably weren’t).

The second half is better in a sense, though the use of doves and rabbits might have animal rights types up in arms, though none of these were harmed in the making of some convincing slight of hand by guest Scott Penrose. His short set, presumably based around the tricks of Lafayette’s time, includes a set of Chinese Linking Rings, a trick which has fascinated me since a friend of my father’s – the late Henderson Lynn, a Glasgow magician – showed me the trick up close. It is baffling (solid brass rings link and pass through each other as if they had gaps cut in them. No, they don’t).
One of the most fun afternoons of my childhood was when Harry (his real name) got me up on stage at a kids’ party and proceeded to draw blood from my arm, and then changed it into coke and squirted it into a glass for me to drink.

I’d not expected to be taking the stage again, but yes, perhaps due to our closeness to the front of the stage, Paul Daniels picked (on) me to come onstage, along with another chap, Andy, “for laughing at him getting picked”.
Our task: to tie Debbie McGee to a chair, so that in a mock seance trance she would be unable to start throwing around a variety of tin cups and plates. To be honest, this trick is the least interesting of the show, or would be if I wasn’t standing on the stage – I say this because there’s not much to it and could be achieved by someone clad in black hiding in the seance cabinet along with the lovely Debbie.)
(Edit: In fact, Paul Daniels has blogged on the show and says: “I forgot to tell them to pick the cabinet up to show no-one was concealed inside it.” That would have changed things somewhat…)

After that, I’m forced into a bet with a fiver that he can’t pick the card I selected (he can of course, it turns up in his sealed wallet). and I’m offstage. That’s actually when the show hots up a little as Andy and another audience member end up sitting on chairs which mysteriously become ‘electrified’. Maybe for the best I missed out on that one.
Anyway, that was my evening and my brush with fame. In all, a fitting tribute to the man who was by that era’s standard, a magical megastar – on a level of Paul Daniels, but as he readily admits, a status achieved without the power of TV.
Happily, the 1911 show wasn’t recreated too accurately – no fire, no-one died. But as would have been the case in 1911, an audience left wondering exactly “how did he do that?” Well, as Mr Daniels would cheesily say, “that’s magic!”

And it is a sizeable throng that greets Moniack, another bunch of homecoming heroes. At this, their first Edinburgh gig in over three years, band and audience connect and seem almost overjoyed to be in each other’s company. Mind you, via their 70s prog leanings (as well as hair and shirts), the 5-piece are decidedly luvved up. Sonically they’re more aggressive – a steamrolling stop-start set is punctuated by some intricate moments of guitar; think King Crimson being bludgeoned by Motorhead.

Lapsus Linguae also have quiet contemplative passages in a multi-vehicle pile-up of a set – their trademark tinkling piano is more in evidence than in recemt gigs adding colour to their darkly gothic canon. They launch headlong into the Liberace-does-death-metal of ‘Parade’ and career through a set that mixes golden oldies with some nerve-jangling new material, which, they announce, will be on an album next year. “Buy it, you ****s” screeches an eerie disembodied voice which may have come from the merchandise table. Could be an ideal present for Xmas 2004.

Stuart McHugh

Will you be taking requests?
If someone yells something and I still know how to play it! A lot of people shout for songs that for the life of me I couldn’t remember how they go. I didn’t like doing Hüsker Dü or Sugar stuff with bands ,I thought it was nice to keep it intact, but as time has gone on I’ve sort of changed my mind on that.

Still getting shouts for Husker Du songs you didn’t write?
No. If they do I don’t hear them!

Ah yes, how is the tinnitus? (Mould famously stopped touring due to hearing problems).
On the band tour I worked with less amplifiers and less volume and it wasn’t so bad; I was able to get a lot of good sleep on the road – my head wasn’t ringing as bad as it usually does after a few shows.

You’ve been working with a lot of bands on remixes, that must be keeping you on top of what’s happening?
Yes, the Interpol remix turned out great, there was one for Low’s ‘Monkey’… here the music’s been pretty bad, the hiphop stuff’s been unbearable, though The Postal Service had a lot to do with merging electronic and pop. In Europe it’s always been a little more open… I have to get this Rammstein mix done today, I’m having a really hard time with it because it’s so fast – a really big German metal thing. I’m not really quite sure what I’m doing with it yet.

Any pre-tour butterflies?We’ve been rehearsing for the last few weeks and it’s sounding fantastic, so I’m not nervous about that. It’ll be interesting with the festivals in the summer when we’re third on the bill to Kasabian and Killers, but for our own gigs we can change lots of things around, playing songs a James fan wouldn’t expect at all.

The shows sold out in 2 hours, so there must be a few fans just waiting for this reunion?
Yes, 5000 people – it’s like the Pixies I think, you almost get bigger when you’re away. I think James has been very much taken for granted, so it’s great that the music’s done a lot of work for us in the years we’ve not been around.

Does the reunion mean the solo career is on hold?
I’ve two collaborative albums that are going fine, but I’ve had to put the acting down for a good 8 months – that and screenwriting, but you can’t be in two places at once. It’s not a wrench though, as I’m having such a great time doing the James stuff 

And the reasons for the band’s initial split, all put aside?
So far, it’s working really well. In the last few years of James, the way we were working… was very dysfunctional. 
So this is going to be alive and raw and creative – that’s the rule and if people can’t keep up with that they won’t be in James – and if WE can’t we won’t have a James, so we’re being quite ruthless on this.

Stuart McHugh

1. Gigs by the band are rare thanks to their peccadilloes – most famously turning down 80s TV show The Tube (and a helicopter ride there) because it clashed with a Tranmere Rovers match. Other means of transport are no more popular – the Renfrew Ferry even being rejected as a Glasgow venue owing to it being a (kind of) boat. (Long tours are out thanks to singer Nigel Blackwell’s “own bed, own bog” motto).

2. Their love of obscure or failed football teams means they have much in common with their large Scottish following (see ‘I Was a Teenage Armchair Honved Fan’, ‘Dukla Prague Away Kit’.)

3. They’re adored by journalists since any piece can simply consist of a string of song titles – ‘Paintball’s Coming Home’, ‘The Bastard Son of Dean Freidman’, ‘Twenty Four Hour Garage People’. See?

4. Take the chance to see what they look like as no proper publicity shot exists from after 1986 (perhaps due to Blackwell’s likeness to Dutch defender Jap Staam).

5. Aside from their fabled cutting lyrics they have a real knack for singalong anthems which have inspired ringing endorsements from fans ranging from Tracy Emin to Jarvis Cocker, while the late John Peel described the band as “a national treasure”.

HMHB play Edinburgh Liquid Room on October 1st

The Americans seem to love you, but you’ve been touring the world, so what’s your favourite place?
I have to say England because I live there… no, wait, I’d better say Scotland! My mum’s side of the family are all from Leith.
I really like Berlin, the people are having so much fun, drink’s cheap. And I like Moscow, I got this great big glam fur coat, which I can wear there.

You’ve picked up a bunch of celebrity fans like Graham Coxon, The Libertines, and Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter)
I remember reading that a while ago, I think (Radcliffe) just likes all guitar bands. People keep saying Madonna likes us. And David Johansen from the New York Dolls, which is kinda cool.

Your lifelong ambition was to appear on Top of the Pops – what is there left now that’s gone?
It’s rubbish, isn’t it? Pop music isn’t popular any more. Our plan is now to being back Top of the Pops, and write the theme tune.
There was a petition to get us on TotP, 7000 people signed it – now, if they’d just bought the single in the first place…!

Your new album is entitled It’s A Bit Complicated – how hard could it be?
Our first album was just all our songs at that time, and we couldn’t all go into the studio at the same time because we all had jobs – this album we had to sit down and write! Plus we could get there together and say: “What that needs is a trumpet and backing vocals.” So it’s more like a pop album.

You have a unique ‘franchise’ system where ‘other’ Art Bruts spring up across the world – e.g. We Are Scientists are Art Brut # 47. What on earth is that about?
Art Brut’s a good name, we felt guilty about having exclusive use of it. Though there must be hundreds of them now – people show up: “Hi, I’m Art Brut 17,” and give me a CD. I’m like a proud father, but I’m glad they’ve all left home!

Stuart McHugh

(More at www.artbrut.org.uk)

With a castle on its main street it’s a magnet for visitors year-round, but add the biggest arts festival – or festivals – in August and the streets turn into something resembling Delhi or Mumbai – the tiny ancient streets and closes a sea of people moving at glacial speed, making all an easy target for distributors of flyers for their “ephemerally challenging one-woman-show that offers a new take on life itself”.

The Royal Mile is worst – formerly a place to catch buskers and odd performance artists, it now boasts stages ‘Sponsored by’ the major banks (good to see they’re spending our money wisely) and the timetabled and fully-advertised performance slots are regimented to within an inch of their lives. Little wonder that the locals pack up and ship out, renting their flats to anyone daft enough to pay their sky-high fees.

It used to be (when I was a teenager) that we’d make a few trips through to Reekie, take in as many shows as we could afford, then retreat home to the sanctity of God’s Own City. Then, I lived in the city for a couple of years, and found that the best option was indeed to take our holidays to coincide with the influx of arties and worthies.

However, there are always worthwhile shows, if you can be bothered to wade through the chaff, and indeed wheat, and can afford what seem like sky-high prices for some of the major performers. So it was with some trepidation that I decided that this year, I’d make the effort to spend some time in the capital.

Anyone who knows me or reads my various websites won’t be surprised to learn that I kicked off with a gig, part of The Edge festival. The Unwinding Hours were magnificent, no surprise there either.

I’d been doing radio shows (I say radio – webcasts to be exact) at FreshAir.org.uk (sample playlist), each of which began with a mad dash from work and a sprint from wherever I’d dumped my car to get to the studio. The first of these included an interview and some live music with MJ Hibbett, and it such was the sense of fun that Mark and Steve exuded in their chat with me that I had to go and see the live show Dinosaur Planet.

This was my Big Day Out – a whole three shows to see (there was also an exhibition, apparently, of the work of Bernard Szajner at the Forest Café, but I managed to completely forget to go and see this). So, after killing some time, next up was Amoeba to Zebra. This is part of the Free Fringe – Hibbett’s show was part of the £5 Fringe and brought in a decent enough audience, but the free aspect obviously appeals even more. Looks like shows are the way ahead.

The same applied to John Otway in the evening, with his Really Free Fringe (see what he did there?) gig. I would implore everyone to see him at least once – he was on form this time round as he usually is – but would have to temper the oft-made “and make him a star” plea – it can only lead to trouble.

The festival is of course ‘arts’ based… and while the whole Edinburgh experience is divided up into fairly neat compartments – you can go see comedy, theatre, music – the twain (er, thrain?) rarely meet. However, in our favourite Edinburgh venue (its karaoke lounge notwithstanding) something very strange is stirring. Instruments of Darkness is an ‘event’ hosted by Edinburgh Printmakers as the last night of the Art Festival, and this made for a very long and actually quite uncomfortable night (in many ways, not least because my knee was giving me gyp). Headliners The Frankensteins eventually won through, but I do prefer my music festivals, or multi-band bills, to concentrate on the music. Even if there are clear Glasgow School of Art influences.

So hurrah for the Retreat! Festival, which is is, pretty much, about the music, even if they do tie a weekend of fun together with food, and comically-dressed comperes.

So, I’d attended the opening day of the Edinburgh festival, so it was apt that I also see the whole thing off with a couple of shows.

It was unseasonably warm at Bristo Square, which lies roughly between the Spiegeltent and Gilded Balloon, and which makes for a pleasant stroll in what is a quieter period, between many of the festival shows ending and the city returning to normality. For all Axis of Awesome’s humourous deconstruction of the world of music, there’s no better way to round off with Jack Lukeman hollering “you’re released!” to a rocking Spiegeltent. So long Edinburgh, see you in another year. Well, probably.

Teenage Fanclub – Star Sign
Tango In The Attic – Jackanory
Eagleowl – Sleep The Winter
True Bypass – Elskan
Josef K – Heart of Song
King Biscuit Time – C I AM 15
Curators – State of Grace
Young Fathers – Straight Back On It
Calvin – Supercar
Jesus H Foxx – Oh Messy Life
Meursault – William Henry Miller Part 1
We Were Promised Jetpacks – Crawling Home
Strangers Almanac – Walkabout
Persil – Light Up My Life
Smoking Popes – Need You Around
Burnt Island – The Moments Before
Hidden Masters – No-one Knows That We’re Here