I was the only member of the band who didn’t have anyone there to support me. Webbo and Spike were both with their girlfriends, and at least Marsh had a mum and dad to be there, even if he was mortified by them. Despite the fact she’d turned out to be a two-timing bitch, I had a flash of wishing Samantha could be there to see us. But Marsh had heard on the grapevine that she’d gone back to the States and was now working at a Californian university as a lecturer in English literature.

Mum had passed away two years ago from a sudden stroke. I’d been on tour in Japan at the time, Cohen’s first international tour, supporting Radiohead, and I hadn’t even been able to come home for the funeral. I tried to explain to Pete on the phone, but he’d just shouted at me – the same old stuff: how selfish I was, how I never thought of anyone but myself, until I slammed down the phone.

I hadn’t spoken to him since. The band were my only family now.

Once everyone had downed a few drinks, Ray Newton-Berry, the company MD, gave an effusively OTT speech about Cohen and our ‘incredible’ first album for the label, how honoured they were to be releasing it, how he was sure it was going to be a worldwide smash, how delighted they all were to be working with us … blah, blah, blah. Marsh was staring at his shoes, Matty and Webbo were smirking delightedly at each other and Spike was examining the end of a dreadlock between his fingers, twirling it like a little girl fiddling with a ringlet. All the while, a photographer discreetly snapped away at us, standing under our huge monochrome portraits on the walls. We weren’t asked if we would like to speak – which was fine by me – then the album was duly played out at top volume through the studio’s sound system. I had to admit it sounded pretty amazing, and I could tell from everyone else’s expressions that they thought the same, as they whooped and hollered with genuine enthusiasm between every track. When it was over, Ray got back up and announced, to yet more ecstatic applause, that we would perform ‘Old Boys’ Club’.

Marsh heaved up the string bass he was playing on this pared-down version, and Webbo sat down with the bongos rammed between his knees. Spike and Matty slung their guitars round their necks, and I took my place at the microphone, taking a few belly breaths as the boys began the intro.