Briefing Room
DCI Plook –
“Those of you who know Mr Hummels will know that he is a shapeshifter, ethereal and somewhat un-pindown-able. So for Mr Hummels to not be himself, is par for the course. Rumours that he shares his identity with some capitalist shill, a no-mark, lifeless drone, operating on Edinburgh’s Southside, have been quashed and all word on Mr Hummels has been lost.

Mr Hummels has gone to ground.
Mr Hummels is off the grid.
Mr Hummels has gone dark.

Reports of an apparent sighting came in last Saturday where apparently he was spotted at a concert in Edinburgh’s Summerhall. We’ll give it due diligence but expect a blanket response.

Earlier in the week a contact close to Mr Hummels provided the following statement:”

DCI Plook plays tape-
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…
I haven’t done this in a while.
I’ve not been myself. (So far, so melodramatic. Ed.)

DCI Plook – How dya mean, you hadn’t been yourself?

I woke up on Sunday feeling as though something had happened. I’d spent the night dancing, despite my injuries, to beautiful music. So Saturday I felt myself over and, despite my injuries, I was in one piece. And, despite my drunkeness the night prior, was not particularly rough. My ears rang and my eyes adjusted to the light. I felt light and happy and full of energy. It was beautiful maybe because I wasn’t rough and deserved to be. Perhaps it was just the remnants of a space cake, or an edible as the kids these days call them… The kids were everywhere, that place is a real fucking scene you know… it was probably just because I was older than all the band. That’s the first time that has happened too…

DCI Plook – I’m sorry but how is this relevant…

Doesn’t matter… I’m getting there… The weekend passed in somewhat of a blur after that. I spent the days in pyjamas and eventually we watched Limbo, which was beautiful, I guess. After the weekend I felt transported to the moments of aliveness and deadness through which we’ve all suffered recently, it felt personal. We’ve had this threat to life in close proximity and the stalling of life all in one, should have been new, fresh, exciting but… You know… Anyway, I cannot comment on the immigration experience, especially now when it is as raw and immediate, I mean it’s politically convenient for it to be newsworthy, but the film showed ways of empathising and also revealed parts of Scotland which I could relate to. All in all a solid 8/infinty.

DCI Plook – Why are you talking like that?

Because I wrote it earlier…. Anyway, we’d been to see Black Midi at Summerhall, for those who were wondering. They were loud and brash and hard to get on with at times, somewhat like myself, eh?!

DCI Plook – Stop…

However, the moments of release and relief are intense and verging on orgasmic, set between violent thrashing. I don’t want to comment on the music as I love it and description won’t do it justice. I’ve played On Schlagenheim and Cavalcade repeatedly since they came out and spoken highly of them already.
I’d previously seen them during the Edinburgh International Festival and found the otherworldly. Geordie Greep prowled in a cheap, ill fitting suit as we sat in allocated pods. They played at us and we had to take it in, which made the bands every physical movement was imbued with an extra something. This time, there was a fanboy mosh-pit, a palpable superspreader event, and Greep wore velvet. Two very different experiences of an incredibly talented band…

DCI Plook – “And then what happened?”

“Well… Mr Hummels was there. He was dancing and shouting and singing but for some reason he took umbridge with Greep’s tracksuit. I couldn’t understand why, it was blue velvet Adidas…
Anyway, Mr Hummels kept shouting at him from the back, then I’d lose him in the moshpit…

He was staring down these members of the crowd, having a go at their 90’s clothes, at the strange masculinity, all the while dancing. I went over to him, to see if he was enjoying himself and he pulled me in by the scruff of my neck and shouted something like ‘Fuck the internet and it’s echo chamber, they’re all the same. I shouldn’t have heard of them, I shouldn’t know about anythinggggg……’ I suppose he got a bit drowned out and then disappeared in to the melee.

DCI Plook – What you reckon, he was high?

I dunno… he seemed lifted in a way. It was right when they started to play Near DT, MI so who’s to say… Then when everything finished he was having a word with the sound guy and then one of the band members. I got held up but could hear him, he kept on saying something like ‘if Greep dresses down again he’s a dead man’. Pretty strong stuff for a travelling musician with no prior warning or understanding of the in-joke. I suppose that was a little out of order. Eventually the two faced off outside as Greep carried gear to a van but Hummels was too far gone to carry out his threat, just as well as Greep had been implicated in something on-stage earlier on, something ugly. I do remember Hummels signalling to him like the undertaker which again is not very OK, I hope Greep didn’t get offended by the pretend death threat.”

DCI Plook – “One second, how did he get access to the band?”

“Good question… they were just kind of there? I didn’t expect it myself. I was lucky enough to speak to Cameron Picton of Black Midi aka DJ Dairy as I bought a t-shirt and he said that the rumours were true – Greep was on Mr Hummels hit list, and he deserved to be for dressing down. Blue Adidas, jheez… But that’s not fair, he had a chance to get the joke.
Anyway, I was with a loose crew who couldn’t really get it together and bad jokes were just one of the takes. One of us tried to proposition the saxophonist and another was sick later on. Made himself sick. Stuck his fingers right in their.

DCI Plook – Nice…

Yeah, I was surprised more than anything though, surprised that the guy Cameron didn’t know where his t-shirts were from, surprised that the young ones were such pussios.”

DCI Plook – Pussios how?

“Well I’ve told you before, there recycled fashion bought new. But when I waited and talked shit with this guy, people seemed annoyed that I was talking morality. Like it’s ok with all their identity crises and political apathy, but fuck it, some kid has to make my fake 90’s platforms, cos I sure as hell ain’t doin’ it. Fuck, who knows. I’m not exactly the picture of your empathetic revolutionary but I don’t dress like a wanker.
Saying that, maybe I do. I bought a Black Midi t-shirt, didn’t I?”

DCI Plook – Good one, what about Hummels? What happened to him?

“Well we sat out in the great bar, under the stars and he posed in front of the Mercedes, told me it was his. It wasn’t of course, it was the van the band were putting their things into but he seemed happy enough. Anyway, we were talking about bands and who and he was talking gibberish. Something about authenticity and bands who’d had lessons. He said he used to not like anyone who sounded taught but that now there were exceptions. I suppose I agreed. But then he started talking about a curse. That he was cursed and that all the music he liked was cursed and that if he said any of it out loud, they’d be cursed too. He worked himself into quite a frenzy.”

DCI Plook – How do you mean a curse?

“Well he was saying that he’d spoken about people – Scott Hutchison, Scott Walker, others, not always exclusively called Scott, who after he’d expressed admiration for. All of them musicians though… Well they’d all died or disappeared or some shit so he couldn’t say he liked Black Midi. Else they’d die.
Some weird shit like that.”

DCI Plook – That’s crazy…

“That’s what I said but he said he’d been friends with one guy, a brilliant singer songwriter and he’d even invited him to his ill-fated wedding and as soon as he did so the guy up and vanished. He said there were other too… as soon as he liked something they turned.”

DCI Plook – Ok, ok, ok… so once he worked himself into the frenzy, about this (checks notebook) curse… What did he do?

“Well, he started to calm down and we sat and drank a little more. Then he leaned towards me and said ‘Okay, I’ll tell you what else…’ At this point he looked me dead in the eye and said he was scared to say it out loud. Naturally I remember that. Then he goes on a long, very eloquent rant about music. Something like… There are other bands who are doing things, not the fetishised autodidacts who he’d previously fauned after. People who knew the dark arts… learned… not Jamie Cullem and John Mayer… but Black Country New Road. Louis Cole and his troupe. Good fucking musicians who knew the trade…Then he whispered to me again ‘Bread Song is my most enjoyed song since Frightened Rabbit. The curse is true’ And he was off again. I tried to reassure him that there was no curse but he was up in a flash, chasing after the tour bus, shouting
‘Run! Greep! Run! Greep! Run! Run! Run! Don’t let Hummels grab your bum, bum, bum.
Bring your suit or 10oz’s next time, Run, Greepy! Run, Greepy! Run, Run, Run!’
Obviously to the tune of Run Rabbit.
Then he was gone.
I can’t remember much after that, I had a kebab and woke up like I told you…

DCI Plook – That’s it…?

“I suppose…
What more do you want?

DCI Plook – Did he say anything about where he was going? What he was doing?

“He said he might go to something called BC Camplight this weekend but was undecided. Said that all this living was taking its toll. He whispered that too, come to think of it. Then he mouthed ‘the curse.’ at me.

It’s a funny thing being in Limbo, both sides have their merits and demerits. It’s the middle, purgatory, that’s taxing…

DCI Plook – Hmmm….

“I’m sorry if I ain’t been much help to you. And I’m sorry if I ratted him out, stupid rat bastard. I suppose I can’t help but be in the middle…

DCI Plook – Some people are born there. I wouldn’t worry.

“Well, I will. It ain’t right sitting around consuming. Or working all the time. Or just existing, watching nothing but The Wire, Narcos and Heat on repeat.”

DCI Plook – So that’s what you do, is it?

“Have been. Nothing but The Wire. It’s a long ass bitch. But they say it’s the best so I’ll stick with it.

DCI Plook – And Heat?

And Heat.

It is the best.

DCI Plook – Goddamn. Well… Look after yourself, I can’t see it doing you any favours… You’ll end up writing all your goddamn posts in crime style reported speech if you don’t watch out…

“Fat chance, you motherfucker.”

DCI Plook – Hey… one thing before you go… You said Mr Hummels (checks notebook) had an ill fated marriage? What happened?

“What happened? He’s still married… That’s what happened!”

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That’s the end of the goddamn, mothafuckin’ transcript. You fuck.



Post Script
Word from the international desk
DCI Espot – Tambien hay informacion que refere a Snr Hummels. El esta en casa, en su cama, mirando Narcos Mexico. Es muy bien. No tiene mucho opportunidad a practicar su espanol despues el desastre con este puto buho! Entonces es bien que mirar algo y piensar poco. Y el verdadero es el no piense mucho. Hasta la proxima tiempo. Hasta la gloria. Viva la revolucion. Viva Snr Hummels.

Suerte amigos.