CHRIS AWOKE AT 3AM IN PARIS WITH A NOOSE around his neck, and thought he was going to die until benign forces dragged him through a wall and into another bedroom. The house he was staying in was built over a plague pit.
Emma was walking in Regent's Park with a friend when a white apparition appeared on the path in front - they completely ignored it until it dissolved, at which point, Emma says, she "bricked it and ran off".
Phil's luxury Camden batchelor pad recently got "caught between this world and a twilight parallel dimension." Phil was rudely wrenched from his dream world to find his bedroom walls and ceiling covered in hair. Hair.
Miki has never seen a ghost, "but I very badly wanted to be possessed by a poltergeist as a child. I wanted to wreck my mother's house, then turn around and say, 'Not my fault, mum'."
Lush's last album was called "Spooky". Ha ha ha ha ha.
THE stopwatch has just started on the cab driver's 15 minutes of fame. 4AD have paid £3000 to paint his cab with large, luminous lemons, the Lush logo, and the title of the album in suitably swirly 4AD style - apparently, bedraggled punters hailing him are, for the most part, under the impression that his cab is promoting a new soft drink called Lush Split.
"Awww, God," Miki sighs, fending off a large, beige Labrador who evidently wants to be petted to death. "If we start getting associated with soft drinks it'll be the end of us."
We're in a cute restaurant in Kensington, around the corner from Emma's house. The cab picked up Lush from rehearsals in a Camden back road that looks like the site for murders and muggings, and immediately ran into north London's never-ending traffic jam. Much Feminax is imbibed in the back seat, as rehearsals were cramp-inducingly ill-fated: various pieces of technology broke down, blew up, emitted disturbing whining sounds, then produced just the right amount of acrid smoke to prompt thoughts of the pub.
Chris - Just 17's third most eligible batchelor, apparently - lolled against the cab window on the way to the restaurant and fell hopelessly in love with various nameless female passers - by. Miki talked about ghosts. Phil pouted. Emma went home to change. The cab driver dropped us off outside the restaurant after blagging tickets for the next Lush gig.
And now there are four different kinds of wine on the table, a suspiciously Eric Cantona - like waiter hovering around, and the soothing background sound of the novelty restaurant parrots ripping each other's wings off.
Let's chat.
LUSH have been up for a kicking for the past two years. As soon as the 1991 honeymoon ended between the press and bands that went "Ooooo-eeee-ooo-ee-ooooo", and the grunge revolution started, Lush were first up against the wall. Albums were dismissed. Gigs were winced at. The only people who seemed glad to see them were gossip columnists with three column inches to fill on Friday nights.
Lush, in the eyes of many, stood for a lot of things: shoegazing; ligging; lager; strobe lights; the biz. Miki's boyfriend is press officer for Suede, The Fall, Echobelly, James, Elastica and Pulp, and therefore Big Cheese at the industry's Delicatessen Counter. Emma's boyfriend is a music journalist, Phil has been in nearly every band ever, and Chris knows everyone, and their mothers, and their mother's chiropodists.
This situation is viewed by many as a sneaky kind of nepotism - artists are supposed to be aloof! Distant! Untouchable! Not lolling at the bar of the Forum drinking beer with all and sundry! Especially sundry! Ipso facto: inevitable backlash. For those who view the industry with cynical eyes, a vote against Lush counts as a vote against The Man.
Except! Lush's last album, which was subjected to critical GBH, entered the charts at Number Seven; Lush played to several million people during the 1992 Lollapalooza tour; the new album, "Split", is a thing of sighing beauty; and Lush don't go out that much now, anyway.
"I can't remember the last gig I went to," Miki, Lush's flame - haired, tab - lighting, cider - swilling, etc, chanteuse says, scanning the menu and deciding that the time has come for 24 snails to die. "I'm getting tired of the whole music scene. I prefer seeing friends and staying in."
"The times that I've enjoyed most over the last six months have been those where I've gone fishing, or perhaps played a nice round of golf, with friends who have nothing to do with the music industry," says Chris.
"Anyway," says Miki, "there's an appaling amount of hypocrisy with music journalists. Every music journalist I know only has friends that are music journalists. You see gaggles of them at gigs, standing in the corner and slagging everything off. People seem to age and get bitter so quickly when they work for the music press. Whereas musicians retain their enthusiasm, and their innocence, if you like - which, I guess, makes it very easy to take the piss out of us."
LUSH have some bizarre fans. When they played at the ICA during last year's 4AD anniversary celebrations, half the audience was made up of Scandinavian back packers in full hiking gear, waving gently from side to side during the slow numbers, and, when the gig finished, running to the front and making a note of the FX pedals used.
"That's nothing," Miki says, as Phill calls over the Eric Cantona - like waiter for a mineral water. "During Lollapalooza, we were cornered by a mountain of a man..."
"...a brick shit - house of a man - he was one of Ministry's roadies, and they're frightening," Emma chips in.
"...who beckoned threateningly and asked to have 'a quiet word'," finishes Miki.
"You have to bear in mind that this guy looked like any word you had with him would start with an 'A' and end in 'aaaaaarrrgh'," Chris adds.
"Anyway," Miki says, "we're huddled in the corner under his gaze, and he leans over and says, 'If you don't play "Thoughtforms" by the end of the tour, I'll rip off your head and shit down your neck.'"
And did you play 'Thoughtforms' before the end of the tour?
"No, we forgot, and so did he," Miki says. "But if he hadn't, we were prepared to offer Chris as a sacrifice."
"Heh?" Chris says, suddenly rejoining the conversation after tussling with a tricky piece of fish. "What's this?"
"Nothing, Chris. Just that you almost died horribly."
"Hey," Chris says with a Radio 1 grin, "happens all the time in Lush."
"WHAT would happen if insects took over the world?"
As you may be aware, by now there is a veritable glass palace of empty wine bottles stacked up around the table. The words, "Never mind the vintage, look at the proof on that," have been bandied around. The talk has turned to insects - nothing to do with Chris' side salad, I hasten to add.
"Do you think that, like, their evolution would mirror our own? And, like, in a million million years' time, there'd be an insect Lush playing at the Falcon?" Miki asks. "That would be, like, cool."
"Don't say that," Phil says.
Say what?
"'That would be, like, cool.' Ren and Stimpey are better than Beavis and Butt - Head. We must remember this."
A brief, multi - directional squabble ensues. Vites are asked for and given in. The conversation continues.
If you could leave a message for that insectoid future - Lush, what would it be?
"Be careful of your song titles."
What, like spelling "ethereal" as "Etheriel"?
"I did that on purpose," Miki protests. "It's a combination of two people's names - Meriel, who used to be our singer [now in the Pale Saints] and her boyfriend Ethan."
I hate to say this, but I have no idea about any Lush lyrics. What do the lyrics of "Etheriel" mean?
"Well, um, ah..." Miki flounders for a minute. She is obviously grasping for a brief, descriptive insight into this Lush song, one which I previously announced had been so beautiful that it saved my life, although I feel the proof - rating of the Hungarian Chardonnay may have had something to do with it. So Miki thinks very carefully before she says:
"Basically, it meant, 'Meriel, you have a really shitty boyfriend.'"
Oh, right.
A FRIEND's insane mate called Horton keeps an eye on internet, the international computer noticeboard for freaks and sages. Rumour has it in the electronic sad boys' world that a comet is due to crash into Saturn on July 27, and the resulting, thousand-mile-wide debris will shower the earth for up to a decade, and result in a million - year nuclear winter. This is the truth.
"Oh f***," Miki says, after a very long silence.
"That'll screw up the Reading Festival," Emma morosely points out, staring into her soup.
"I'm going to die a virgin," Chris moans.
"Are you sure about this?" Phil asks me.
Yes.
"Christ. It doesn't leave much time to do anything, does it? It's barely enough time for the bouncers at the Brixton Academy to find your name on the guest list," Miki points out. "Chris, what will you do? No - what would you do if you had three hours left to live?"
"I would retreat to my country hideaway and write the great novel I've always known was inside me," Chris lies. "It's a very short, great novel."
Emma?
"I'd listen to the new Lush album three times," she giggles.
Phil?
"Well," he says, and the table becomes silent because Phil has lived through many long dark nights of the soul, has almost certainly come up with the ultimate way to kiss the world goodbye. "I'd, um, put all my CD's in alphabetical order."
It would be crass to say that Lush drink to this. But they do.
'Split' is out now on 4AD
Click here to the Melody Maker selection page.
Get your own Free Home Page