The launch of unbreakable records

Quite a start for the new label this week, and I attended the big launch party at Weller Towers.
Of course, Yours Truly was the belle of the ball, clad as I was in my standard shindig rig-out (a leather and animal print combination – I did look good). Almost everyone who was invited to the launch of Unbreakable Records turned up, except for that stay-at-home milksop singer with the initials H.S. He’s been crossed off my Christmas card list for 2025 (though I might reinstate him for 2026 if he’s nice to me). Or maybe I won’t. After all, he once described me – to my face – as “Keith Richards in a dress.”

“Silly boy,” I replied casually before slapping his mush, “I look like Pete Doherty in a dress. And besides,” I drawled, while sucking on my Marlboro Red, “I’m incredibly feminine. Just like you.”

Anyway, H.S. missed a great party. He really is an artist with a promising future behind him!

Highlights? Well. At first, it was frightfully formal as the owners made speeches about Unbreakable Records’ “mission,” “business plan,” and “target operating system,” and I must admit I was getting just a teensy bit bored. Big boss Honey had turned up in a powder-blue tracksuit, and ever anxious to ingratiate myself with the upper echelons of the company that’s hired me, I asked him where he got it. He seemed a little abashed.

“I saw Jonathan Ross wearing something similar once,” he told me. “But I could never find anything remotely like it until one night when I was at an after-hours party in Ibiza Old Town. The boyfriend of the French Ambassador to Spain was there and— the hour being late—he (the Ambassador’s squeeze) decided to skinny dip in the pool of the Villa D’Artagnan, which was where the party was at. And it so happened that the French lad was indeed wearing a powder-blue tracksuit as previously seen adorning the shanks of Jonathan. Well, temptation’s a terrible thing, and once I judged the coast to be clear, I couldn’t help myself except to help myself to his clothes and make off with them while the thinning crowd was distracted by the orgy in the pool.”

“Do you feel any— you know— guilt?” I asked the blushing MD of Unbreakable Records.
“Not really,” he said. “This tracksuit looks much better on me than it did on the other chap.”

Things loosened up after that. Those naughty boys from Tin Cry turned up—Messrs Nelson Moretti and Harley Taylor. Now, Tin Cry are Unbreakable’s first major signing and we have high hopes for them. Nelson seems to be the brains in the band, and Harley appears to be the nutter.

Then Andy Weller, Unbreakable’s Chief Operating Officer, introduced me to my new team: Charlotte the Harlot, Rita the Man-Eater, and Little Owen Unwin, who has a face that only his mother could love. Indeed, Owen is the kind of young man who would be ill at ease in a room on his own with the door locked from the inside. But no matter! I will mould these characters into the best A&R team in the music business. I just need time, an iron will, and my celebrated tolerance of idiotic behaviour.

I asked Rita to describe her approach to A&R in a single sentence, and after due consideration she replied: “I’ve got a vulgar vulva.” Not the best of starts.

Little Owen was taking notes of everything I said, which was a waste of time because by then I was pretty drunk. We all were, I think. Music was blaring. Plates were smashing. Strong drink was being consumed. Then some rotter played a cruel practical joke on me. I got a text saying that H.S. was sorry he couldn’t make the party, but he’d love to meet me later at his hotel. I nearly fell for it until I noticed that the address of the hotel was the Premier Inn just down the road. Even H.S. isn’t that cheap, darlings!

I suspect the perpetrator was none other than Harley Taylor, and we will be having words about this in the not-too-distant future.

We’re just getting ready to launch Tin Cry on an unsuspecting world. Their debut album, Legends in the Art of Underachievement, is recorded and ready to ship (as we say in the world of A&R), and the first single will probably be a corker called It’s Hard to Get Up (When You’re Bringing Me Down).

Like a fool, I asked Harley what the song was about.
“It’s about four minutes,” he snarkily replied, before collapsing in a heap on the floor, literally rendered unconscious by his own bludgeon-like wit. He’ll go far. Hopefully very far.

Other characters at the party were either interesting or disturbing. I was introduced to Graphic Bob, who, alas, was all too graphic for my personal taste. A mysterious musician called Blue—who we’re probably going to sign—insisted on trying to teach me obscene limericks in British Sign Language.
“I’m a man of few words,” he explained. “That’s why I only do instrumental tracks.” Fine.

It didn’t help that Little Owen Unwin got wasted, was sick in a wastepaper basket, and couldn’t stand up. I had to take him home in a wheelbarrow I borrowed from a building site. I think he might have a bit of a crush on me. Silly boy! I’m old enough to be his sister.

Pretty soon now I’m going to start inviting unsigned bands and artists to submit their material to Unbreakable Records, as we’re keen to expand our roster as soon as possible. And remember:
At Unbreakable Records, we specialise in having fun!

See you anon…