It was the heat of the moment.

I woke up in Hull, feeling strange. I had unfinished business.

Magic crab business.

I had to thank the magic crab for sending me back in time so I could interview Lewis Young, recording artist and founder of The Adult Teeth Recording Company. It was the proper thing to do.

I sat outside York Minster again, listening to Aztec Camera and thinking about Scotland. Then that ol’ glint caught my eye, and in a flash I was back on that weird beach.

Something wasn't right.
Something wasn’t right.

“Son, is that you?”

I wasn’t his son.

I wasn’t even a crab.

“Take a hold of my claw… I’m dyin’.”

What could I do? I’m a compassionate dude – I took a hold of his claw.

“Son… all we are… is dust in the wind,” he plagiarised.

“Every rose has its thorn.”

Clearly, AOR was providing the old crabby bugger with some comfort.

“Take… these broken wings… and… learn to fly again…”

Now he was taking the piss. Still, I was genuinely sad about the magic crab passing away. I started to tear up as I thought about what he did for me, even though I had been sort of a dick.

“In my life there’s been heartache and pain. I don’t know if I can face it again,” I blubbed.

“You can’t stop now, you’ve travelled so far to change this lonely life.”

“I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.”

I had gone too far – the crab died. I walked away, hands in pockets. Music began to play.

I will, little buddy. I will.
Ashes to ashes, funk to funky.

Life after Hull, based on true events.

Music is like a beach. You look under a lot of rocks, you find a lot of beach shit, sometimes you find something really special…

I’m getting ahead of myself. It was November, and I woke up with a strange feeling. This was because I was waking up in Hull and that’s not usually where I wake up. Not that I minded.

Hull was very good to me. I had a Subway sandwich, which was as reliably mediocre as any other I’ve had, and I spent some time admiring some very fetching architecture and dodging low-flying pigeons.

I have a perfectly rational fear of being shat on.

Ultimately, I found that I couldn’t really go into any shops because people were trying to buy Xboxes in them, so I left for York. On the way I got to see the Humber Bridge, which appears to stretch impossibly and infinitely. A truly awesome sight. I don’t even have anything flippant to say about it, it’s just amazing.

I sat outside York Minster, listening to Aztec Camera and thinking about Scotland. Then a glint caught my eye. Like any true Scotsman, I went over in case it was money.

It wasn’t.

It was a rip in space and time.

I was on a beach. A lot of people were listening to Mumford & Sons. It wasn’t very nice, so I went off for a bit of a mope.

I was having a bit of an explore when I saw something. It was like a rock, but it wasn’t a rock.

“It’s a rock lobster!” I shouted, feeling like an idiot but also a little pleased with myself.

I looked a little closer. It was actually a crab, and I was a crustacean racist. I thought it was dead for a while, but it started a-wrigglin’, then it started talking.


“You have awoken me from my crab coma – I hereby grant you three wishes,” he crabbled.

“Can I wish for more wishes?”

“You can fuck off.”

“There’s no need to be so crabby.”

“It’s one wish now.”

I thought about it for ages. I thought about all my regrets and near-misses. Then it came to me.

“I wish I could go back in time to the Adult Teeth showcase gig and interview Lewis Young, founder of The Adult Teeth Recording Company.”

“Your wish is my command.”

With that, the crab scuttled away to do crab stuff and I found myself somewhere a little more familiar.


I was back at the Adelphi Club, and there was Lewis Young sat opposite me.

“So, what’s it like running an independent record label?”