'I became a writer through failing to become a rock star.' Photograph: Murdo MacLeod
So one day my mate Craig Smith phones up and says something like, "Why didn't we ever get that band together when we had the chance?" And I say something like, "Don't know. A shame, really." And he says, "Yeah. Well why don't we do it now?" And because I can't think of a logical response to his question (there are dozens of logical responses to his question, I just can't think of one immediately) I say, "OK, let's do it." By the time I put the phone down, I am the singer-songwriter of a two-man band: one being a perfectly respectable web manager who wears glasses to read; the other being a 44-year-old poet and father.
Two hours later, having sobered up, I call him back and hint at some of the obstacles which would appear to stand between our new band and rock-and-roll mega-stardom.
One of which, of course, is deciding on a name. It's one of the most important things: it defines the whole direction of the project. Maybe to the outsider it doesn't matter, otherwise how would acts with names like Bat For Lashes or Steely Dan or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah or even U2 have found any success? But to the band itself the name is EVERYTHING.
You would be forgiven for thinking that, with the whole of the dictionary to choose from, finding the right name would be a straightforward task. But almost every word or combination of words carries unwanted luggage. It's too indie-pop (The Wheelybins) or it's too derivative (Dragnet). Or it's too 80s (The Cagoules), too easily mispronounced (The Xoanons), too easily misunderstood (What's New On The High Street?), too self-conscious (The Autodidacts), too self-deprecating (The Has-Beens), too disingenuously self-deprecating (The Late Lamented), too 70s (Trespass), too heavy (Troopcarrier), too 90s (The Jupiter and Barnsley Choral Society), too daft (Kneetrembler), too capricious (Fond), too northern (Pork Pie), too camp (The Shamefaced Sparrows), too much like the sound of a real ale or a brand of rolling tobacco (Hobson's Choice), too playground (The Wagon Wheels), too cheesy (Terry And June), too hostage-to-fortune (Royal and Ancient i.e. which one are you, then?) etc.
We are absolutely determined not to choose anything literary or anything that makes promises we can't live up to, so Jude The Obscure and Pepperspray are vetoed at an early stage. Every time we do find what we think is a decent name, it turns out that it already belongs to a neo-punk band from Ohio, who, even if they haven't released any records, have created a swanky website and patented the brand.
Part of me thinks that we should say sod it, do our own thing, go our own way, and if the universe wants us it can come and find us. But Craig Smith says otherwise, and he speaks the truth. Arctic Monkeys might not be the best band name ever, but the incongruous coupling of those two words ensures that any half-decent search engine will pinpoint the required target within a fraction of a second. Call yourself Fishfingers, on the other hand, and would-be listeners have to wade through pages of Tesco's latest frozen food offers.
After two weeks of giddy emailing and misspelled texts, we narrow it down to a mere 280, from which we agree on a final short list:
Peroxide Miracles Tracksuit Jesus The Numpties Sheriffs of Play-Doh Uncle Bob Katnip The Lemsip Junkies I Wish I Was You I Wish You Were Me The Soft White Pillowcase Boys Zirconium Thatcher Versus Thatcher Dirty Brenda Donkeywork Jiggerfish The Bearcatchers The Shameless Helligans The Gone The Gone But Not Forgottens The Gone and Good Riddance White Rastas Are Patronising The White Rastas Stair-rods Meltham is a Dangerous Place New York Loft Living (Comes To Marsden) Hoss
In the end (and we're not sure how) we become The Scaremongers. When I say to people, "We've decided on a band name," and they say, "Oh yeah, what is it," and I say, "The Scaremongers," they say, "Yeah, that works," or they nod appreciatively. Which is a good sign.
My dad, somehow, has also got wind of the proposed band.
"Thought of a name, yet? How about Midlife Crisis."
For a moment, I'm almost tempted.
·Visit The Scaremongers website
·Read the full story of The Scaremongers in Weekend magazine
