In February 1994 we were invited to the Brit Awards by London – my first Brits.
The others had been before, of course, in 1988, when New Order received the Best Video Award for ‘True Face’ (the name on the award) voted for by Radio 1 listeners. The group had been estranged at the time, with me being a very angry young man indeed. I was off negotiating a deal for Revenge so turned down the opportunity, instead watching it on TV. I must say that Barney’s crack about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s boring speech was spot-on and did make me laugh, even if it resulted in big ‘boos’ from the audience for New Order.
Somehow I’ve ended up with the award, complete with one spike missing off Britannia’s trident and spelling mistake in the title.
So anyway, back to 1994. The awards were on Valentine’s Day but I was single, so it wasn’t a problem, and along I went. ‘Regret’ had been nominated in the Best Single category and Colin Bell and Tracy Bennett were convinced we were going to win. ‘We’ve got inside information,’ they said. They had even managed to persuade Barney to come. The evening started well; we were staying at the Halcyon hotel in Holland Park and everyone was very buoyant. A huge limousine arrived and then it started snowing, outside the limo and inside too. There was a massive traffic jam at Alexandra Palace because of the snow, and because of the snow inside we were all gagging for a drink when we did get in.
It was a very grand affair but when we got our table, alarm bells started to ring. We were miles away from the stage, literally miles away. If we had won, it would have taken me and Barney at least ten minutes to walk to the stage. Colin and Tracey were panicking – ‘It must be a mistake’ – and set off running round like headless chickens trying to sort it out. There were normally five nominations but an exception had been made this year, we’d been told, there being six, of which ‘Regret’ was one. As the evening progressed we ended up messier and messier, and of course no one ate, our table being the only one full of piled-up food.
When it got to our category we were very excited, even though we needed binoculars to see Noel Edmonds, the host, who went through the nominations and . . . we weren’t even nominated.
This caused consternation at the table. Me and Barney were shouting at the London boys, who once more went and did the chicken run. It was so embarrassing. I still don’t know what happened. Whether it was a scam by the Brits to sell another table (they cost about £10,000 each even then) or by London Records to show a presence, who knows. We stormed out. Of course, no one noticed. We were then joined by Tom Watkins and two rent boys. Then Barney and a young lady I’d never seen before. The limo was packed. The next stop was Heaven Club, so I bowed out. It was too weird even for me.
Meanwhile . . .