I have to admit, I went into this book with pretty low expectations. I thought it was going to be another one of those self-indulgent rock star memoirs where they just list every famous person they’ve ever met. But honestly, Alex James can seriously write.
His writing tone actually reminds me a lot of Anthony Bourdain. They got that same swagger, that effortless storytelling vibe where you feel like you’re just sitting at a bar listening to a friend ramble on about their wild 20s. It feels like a real conversation.
The stories are short, punchy, and chaotic. He captures that 90s "Cool Britannia" madness perfectly: the private jets, the Damien Hirst art, the sheer amount of champagne. He’s totally open about being a "lad" and a professional hedonist, but he’s self-aware enough to know how ridiculous it all was.
I was the Fool-king of Soho and the number-one slag in the Groucho Club, the second drunkest member of the world's drunkest band. This was no disaster, though. It was a dream coming true. - Alex James
I really, really wish there was more Graham Coxon in here. The moments where Graham shows up—usually causing chaos or being brilliant—are easily some of the best parts of the book. I know it’s Alex’s memoir, not a band biography, but the dynamic between them is so interesting that I found myself skimming pages just hoping for another Graham story.
But even without enough Graham, it’s still a great read. It’s funny, it’s messy, and it’s surprisingly warm. If you want to know what it felt like to have too much money and zero responsibility in 1995, this is it. Definitely recommend, especially if you’re a Blur fan.