‘Being in a band now is like being in the Royal family’
Blur bassist-turnedcheese guru Alex James tells Cara Mcgoogan how Chipping Norton is the place for foodies
Alex James is giving me a tour of his 200acre Cotswold farm, plucking home-grown tomatoes from the vine as we go and rattling ice cubes around a wine glass filled with coffee. Idyllic. And yet, he’s got something to grumble about.
“When we moved here it was a beef farm and there was a pig farm at the end of the road,” he recalls. “There was the Daylesford farm shop, but no Soho Farmhouse. Now the Beckhams and Markles have moved in. We’ve had to weather the storm.”
From where I’m standing, in the 30-degree heat, there’s barely a cloud in sight.
Once a slightly unfashionable hinterland, where Britain’s media elite rubbed shoulders and shared bottles of wine with politicians, Chipping Norton and its surrounding villages are now something of a celebrity hotspot. Weekends see an influx of visitors from London, seeking sanctuary and fresh air. On Friday nights, the M40 is crammed with 4x4s and has earned the nickname the “west London corridor”. While James’s permanent neighbours now include Zara and Mike Tindall, Kate Moss, Gary Barlow and Dom Joly, reports have suggested that newly-weds the Duke and Duchess of Sussex are having a home built nearby.
“Chipping Norton was a toxic brand five years ago,” says James. “But we seem to have turned a corner.”
Although he’s been an Oxfordshire staple for more than a decade, James hates the idea of being part of a “scene”. When the photographer suggests he stand under a pagoda, he shakes his head: “That’s a bit bourgeois, Chipping Norton c---.”
“Some people move here expecting there to be a scene,” he says. “I’m really lucky, I’m obsessed with cheese and we’ve got the festival. You can’t expect to be hanging out all the time hobbing and knobbing.”
He doesn’t deny mixing with the Chipping Norton set, but tones down his association. It’s not all picnics with the Clarksons and dinner parties with the Camerons. Rather, it’s blissful seclusion, Michelin-star pub lunches and chance run-ins with A-list celebrities in the park.
“I was at a swing park a couple of years ago with the kids and there were two other dads,” he says. “One of them came up to me and I bristled a bit. But he said, ‘Alex? I just wanted to say hi; Guy Berryman from Coldplay’.” He laughs and waves his arms to demonstrate the third dad’s shock.
A decade ago, James would have no doubt relished the prospect of spending his weekends down the road at Soho Farmhouse, drinking cocktails with the likes of Meghan Markle and Margot Robbie. But, as he approaches 50 – his trademark floppy hair flecked with grey and with the slightest of paunches visible – the Blur musician-turnedcheesemaker lives a calmer life. It’s a far cry from his heady youth cavorting in Soho, dining at the Groucho Club and topping off the fun with a million pounds’ worth of champagne and cocaine.
“That quote about spending a million pounds on cocaine when I was promoting my book has come back to haunt me,” he chuckles.
James commends himself for not “f------ hiding anything from anybody” – though he admits this might make it difficult to set an example to his five children (Geronimo, twins Galileo and Artemis, and daughters Beatrix and Sable – aged eight to 14), as they reach their teenage years – even if they are a little isolated on a farm in the Cotswolds.
“I gave my eldest, Geronimo, my book today and said, ‘You might as well read this before your class does’,” he admits.
“You’ve got to have an open-door policy. I never had any secrets from my mum, even when it appalled her. All you can say is, ‘Don’t join the stupid club.’ But it’s hard when you were a fully signed up member of the stupid club yourself.”
After a pause, he adds: “Hedonism is fine so long as you’re running towards something and not away from it.” Chipping Norton has afforded James the luxury of maintaining one element of his city lifestyle: the food. “It’s become a mecca for food tourism and producers,” he says. “There’s a footpath that goes straight from our farm to the nearest pub.” Once a year, James cohosts the Big Feastival, on his farm, with Jamie Oliver. It attracts chefs from across the country, as well as the Chipping Norton set. “I literally build a Groucho Club in the back garden,” says James. “We have more Michelin stars at the festival than there are in London.”
Along with music, food has always been important to James. “In the Nineties, I was spending loads of money in fancy restaurants thinking I was wasting it. Actually, it turns out I was doing research,” he says.
On his farm he prefers to combine haute cuisine with home snacking. When his friend and festival partner Marco Pierre White asked how James liked to eat cheese, he answered: “I really like Blue Monday with Frazzles. You know, the way you eat cheese when you get home and you’re really hungry and you get a bag of crisps and hack off some cheddar?”
“There was a terrible pause where I didn’t know if he was going to punch me,” James recalls. Luckily, White “f------ loved it”. In the Cheese Hub, at this year’s festival, his own brand of Alex James cheeses will be served alongside – yes – crisps.
So which of his passions have his children inherited?
Geronimo, James says, wants to be a DJ – “I don’t get the DJ thing, it’s mental” – while his daughter Sable knows exactly when the strawberries will ripen. None has shown much of an interest in emulating their dad.
“I don’t think you can really be in an indie band any more,” he says. “That lovely romantic ideal of living in a transit van and playing in pubs around the country has gone. But, if you’ve got an interesting recipe for pickled onions or chutney... that spirit of independence and fun absolutely lives on in food production.
“Being in a band now is like being in the royal family,” he continues. “You park badly, somebody tweets it, everybody hates you and that’s the end of your career. Doesn’t Ed Sheeran just want to get naked and be an idiot?”
As if to cement the idea that he’s all food and no music, James adds: “My heart sinks every time I hear the word Britpop. It wasn’t really a movement, was it? It was two great bands and everybody else copying them.”
He swishes his locks. “So, I’ve decided to turn it into a marketing opportunity. I’ve trademarked the name Britpop and I really want to make a British sparkling wine.”
You heard it here first – Meghan Markle could be sipping from a glass of Britpop at Soho Farmhouse any day now.
‘I don’t think you can really be in an indie band now. That spirit of fun lives on in food’