12.17am: Hello and welcome. Two years ago you may recall that I live blogged the Mercury prize. It was a momentous occasion. The New York Times, for instance, described it as "an unpredictable literary whirlwind, why hasn't this Jonze been promoted?". And most set texts regard it as a peak of modern journalism that will surely never be topped. At least I assume that's why I haven't been asked to do another one in the past two years. Anyway ... to cut a long waffle short, I'm back in business and from 6pm today you can catch me blogging my knuckles to the bone live from Grosvenor House in London. Who will win? Who will do a runner? And who will make an embarrassing fool of themselves after too much free pinot grigio? As long as the answer to the last question isn't "me", this should be a lot of fun.
Oh, and to keep you occupied up until that point, here's the list of nominees:
Biffy Clyro – Only Revolutions
Corinne Bailey Rae – The Sea
Dizzee Rascal – Tongue n' Cheek
Foals – Total Life Forever
I Am Kloot – Sky at Night
Kit Downes Trio – Golden
Laura Marling – I Speak Because I Can
Mumford & Sons – Sigh No More
Paul Weller – Wake Up the Nation
Villagers – Becoming a Jackal
Wild Beasts – Two Dancers
The xx – xx
You can remind yourselves what they sound like by watching our rather brilliant How I wrote sessions, put together with the Observer New Review team.
6.25pm: Ok, I'm in, perched on the balcony cheap seat (I've got the only seat) looking down on the posh tables. Sniff. After watching a very boring red carpet ceremony in which I did not – in any way, shape or form – sneak off for a cheeky gin and tonic in the bar, I am looking forward to some action. Rosie Swash has been on the red carpet with a tabloid reporter who confessed to not knowing a single band ("I'd rather be at the GQ awards – there's proper celebrities there"). What does she mean? Did she not know Tom from Wild Beasts was coming?
Talking of which, jonbeat is in the comments section here chanting for "foals, foals, foals, foals" whereas there's a general feeling (fear?) that Weller will win despite him "not deserving it". We'll find out in a second as it looks like Weller's about to take the stage ...
6.37pm: Who should win? It seems you lot can't decide. Knowles1 reckons that the xx or Wild Beasts deserve it, wheras Biffy "wouldn't be a terrible choice". I have to say that's almost exactly my thoughts too. The xx album actually sounds like it was made in the last year (unlike most of the nominees on the list) although I can't help feeling they had their moment in the sun with all the Album of the Year gongs last year. Because of that I'm joining Rosie Swash who seems to be frequenting Twitter on an hourly basis to shout "Wild Beasts WILD BEASTS" at all her followers.
6.56pm: Jools Holland is on stage! The only stage (there's three) that I can't see because I'm sat behind a bloody big speaker stack. Jools says that U2 are part of the show! Oh, "you too", sorry.
6.56pm: "Thank you Barclay card," says Jools to bizarrely wild applause that goes on for ages. Do that many people really have such affection for plastic-based credit? What are they going to be like when they announce the musicians?
7.00pm: maceasy says "What was the Speech Debelle debacle? I bought the album last year, and it is excellent." Fair point, just because few people bought it doesn't mean the result is somehow invalid. Right, Paul Weller and his haircut are on stage.
7.01pm: There's been much talk of Weller's "eccentric" and "avant garde" career revival. Personally, he just seems to be playing mod rock songs that are over in two minutes, but I'm not here to crush any myths.
Christ, Weller's gone already, that was quick. He had a great guitar - a butterscotch blonde telecaster, for fans of that kind of thing. Now it's Wild Beasts and Rosie Swash is screaming from the balcony: "WOOOOOOO!"
7.06pm: Wild Beasts on now doing Hooting and Howling. All I can hear is "WOOOOOOOO!"
7.07pm: I'd love these guys to win but they're such a Marmite band I can't see it happening. The chance of anything approaching a unanimous decision over these guys is pretty unlikely. Most people I know can't even say their name without putting on a dramatic falsetto voice.
Here's the live session they did for us, if you want to recreate the scenes here. For added authenticity, hunch over a laptop with bad WiFi connection and type until your knuckles bleed while a colleague shrieks in your left ear.
7.12pm: Without skipping a beat, the xx are on. Wild applause (although not as much as for everyone's favourite band Barclay Card) when they finish. Rumour is they're going to win, not just from bookies but from what people know already about the judge's personal tastes – NME editor Krissi Murison put them on the cover, Jude Rogers loves them, etc.
ENOUGH OF THIS! SIMON NEIL FROM BIFFY CLYRO IS ON STAGE WITH HIS NIPPLES OUT!!!
7.21pm: In case you're sitting there frantically hitting "refresh" after my last announcement, there is no more news. Biffy Clyro were tuning up topless. Now they have gone.
7.27pm: Biffy Clyro are on. They're playing Captain. I spent most of my time as a music journo at the NME ignoring/mocking this band but, you know what, I was wrong. Only Revolutions has more planet-sized tunes than any other nominee – it's basically the pop fan's choice here, even if they do dress their songs up with wiggly guitar riffs and big stadium rock dynamics. So there you go.
Anyway, they're now playing a Dizzee video because Dizzee ain't here. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that what I really need right now is a really quiet version of Bonkers.
7.32pm: Oh, Dizzee IS here. He just didn't play. He's doing a speech instead. Has he popped in from the GQ Awards?
7.33pm: There's barely a pause for breath. Laura Marling is on. The first time I Speak Because I Can has been played straight after Bonkers, I'd wager.
7.36pm: marckee has joined us to show some rather back-handed love for overlooked jazz nominees, the Kit Downes Trio. "None of the shortlisted albums really excited me. Wild Beasts and Kit Downes Trio are the pick of a polished, but unremarkable bunch. As long as the braying Mumford and Sons, the pseudish Foals and the pacified Biffy Clyro don't win, I'll be happy."
Not that I'm on commission to push our live sessions or anything, but I thought this was a rather lovely song.
7.38pm: A brief break, says Jools. Which is good because I don't think anyone really wants to read me live blogging my own bladder bursting. See you in a sec.
7.45pm: Pakistan all out for 89, Bresnan delivers a stormi ... sorry, wrong live blog. Still not much happening here. Although I can see I Am Kloot tuning up. They have a string section.
7.51pm: Maybe now is the time to have a chat about who should have been nominated but wasn't. Any suggestions commenters? Hot Chip with their best album yet, One Life Stand? These New Puritans classical/art-rock fusion Hidden? Richard Hawley's stripped back sixth album Truelove's Gutter? Any of those would have been worthy winners, let alone nominees I reckon.
7.56pm: "All the nominees are shite so who cares .....there is no great music around any more," says rsaviour. And you know what? They're dead right. I'm packing up, see you same time next year. Good night!
8.00pm: I Am Kloot have been and gone, and before I can get my act together Corinne Bailey Rae is doing her thank you speech. It means so much to her to be nominated etc. Rosie Swash's theory is that the nominees who don't think they've got a chance of winning give it their all with a Kate Winslet-style meltdown when all they really need to say is "thank you for my nomination". It backfired in 2008 when Elbow blurted their hearts out during their nominee speech and had to do it all again an hour or so later when they won. Although actually that was kinda sweet.
8.02pm: Kit Downes Trio are playing Jump, Minzi, Jump. Chatter in the room has increased ten-fold, which is pretty damn rude if you ask me. Someone shouts "shhhh". Everyone shuts up.
8.19pm: marckee says "I'd have like to have seen any of Fuck Buttons, Four Tet, Steve Mason, Male Bonding and Ikonika in there. Did the Mount Kimbie album fall into this year's nomination period? If so, that one too."
When the nominations were announced there was a lot of talk about Fuck Buttons missing out, along with rumours that they hadn't actually put their album forward. Either the band thought winning was a bit of an albatross, or they didn't want to have to make Jools Holland say "fuck" on the BBC.
Foals are on now playing Spanish Sahara, not the most immediate track from Total Life Forever I have to say.
8.24pm: Villagers are on, Villagers being a guy called Conor who looks - and sounds - like another Conor, Bright Eyes frontman Conor Oberst. His performance is more intimate and captivating than anything else we've had on tonight. There's an awful lot of folk (or nu-folk as I'm trying not to call it) on the list tonight, but at least Villagers play a twisted version of it.
8.25pm: Mumford and Sons. Have to say, the atmosphere is really polite this year. Polite being a polite way of saying dull.
No sooner have I spoken than there is drama - Mumford's double bass is out of action! A couple of deafening booms and now it's not making a sound. It's like the Pistols at the 100 Club or something. Can you remember where you were when Mumfords played the Mercury Prize?
8.29pm: Now I'm no Mumfords fan but you can at least see from that performance of the Cave why they're selling a gazillion records at the moment. Frenzied, uplifting pop tunes that don't mind doing their little barn dance in the middle of the road.
8.32pm: Wow, the performances are over already. No they're not! Mumfords are coming back on to do it with their bass working. In other news, Sex Pistols to perform again with no spitting while Sid Vicious buys Nick Kent a beer.
8.36pm: My good lady wife has picked up my hint earlier about Paul Weller's guitar. Christmas is coming up etc
8.38pm: Mumfords are back on. No pressure double bass guy.
8.43pm: The bands are done and the music is over. Over, I say, save for the sound of a few violins. And those violins, readers, are the soundtrack to me opening my squashed Pret Ham & Mustard sarnie and gazing forlonly at the music industry bigwigs stuffing their faces on top class nosh below.
8.57pm: I remember having a similar existential crisis two years ago when I realised I was effectively live blogging a couple of hundred suits eating a three course meal. I kept myself sane then by creating a drama and going on a mission to find out the menu but I'm not sure you'll fall for that trick again. Come on, if I tell you they're eating grilled sea bass with rosemary and lemon, will you really give a flying one?
Let's face it, unless we catch the bassist in Foals munching on a live bat, nothing of any interest is going to happen until 10pm so let's just watch the England match and I'll keep an eye on your comments.
9.07pm: Ok, ok, since (none of) you asked, here's the menu ...
Leek and roquefort tart with poached pear and walnut dressing
Pan fried sustainable cod with bubble and squeak, roast vegetables and a thyme jus
Apple tart tatin with vanilla icecream
Yes, very nice. That ham sandwich tastes all the sweeter now. By the way, we have Guardian journalist Lexy Topping to thank for this detective work. She hacked Simon Frith's voicemail or something to get that.
9.13pm: PhilJones87 says "They should have stuck Wiley on uStream to provide the entertainment during the breaks." If they did that, it would be the end of this blog.
9.26pm: Honestly, you spend two hours blogging about every single live performance to the sound of tumbleweed. Then I mention a leek and roquefort tart and the world comes alive.
"Vanilla ice cream?" asks dothebathosphere. "Thats like the vanilla of ice cream. No wonder the Merc Prize is so mainstream and we're all sat around on tenter hooks waiting for jasonaparkes to post the annual 6,000 item list of albums The Wire mumbled about last year ..."
9.30pm: Sadly, muslimlancs, we are shut off from the 'slebs on the balcony bit and so cannot infiltrate to bring you gossip. I have no idea if Laura Marling has thrown a leek and roquefort tart over Marcus Mumford. If the double bass player in Mumford has been flogged to death outside, I would be none the wiser. All I know is I'm sat in a boring room that smells of cod.
9.40pm: The depressing truth of tonight is that I really don't think there's any gossip I'm missing. It's all very civilised down there. The most exciting thing Rosie Swash has heard is that one of Foals was "more relaxed now we've done our performance." Christ, where's a Glasvegas singer going AWOL when you need one?
Admittedly, I could just take muslimlancs' advice and make it all up. But that would be showing up my profession and I just ... OMFG, IS THAT JOOLS HOLLAND WRESTLING NAKED WITH VILLAGERS BY THE PRESS AREA?
9.51pm: It's dothebathosphere again, with a question: "any altercations with photographers up there in balconyland this year?"
They are, of course, referring to the legendary 2009 live blog in which Paul MacInnes, normally the most docile of timid creatures, got into a word scrap with nearby snappers blocking his view. If I recall he slagged them all off on his live blog but one of them happened to be following it on his phone. Anyway, the exciting news is that after last year photographers are no longer invited to the balcony bit. MacInnes 1 - Photographers 0
9.59pm: The lights have gone down. And back up. And down again. You can smell the tension. Well, you could if the place didn't stink of pan-fried sustainable cod.
10.16pm: I'm guessing, judging by past Mercury blogs, that we're about ten minutes away from the moment Jools arrives with his envelope. I hope he hurries the hell up, I'm struggling to keep this live blog above water. If I tell you that a large proportion of the audience are wearing suits and shirts but no tie, will that be a new nadir in the art of minute by minute reportage? Ok, thought so ...
10.21pm: tyyorkshiretealady has had enough: "Oh FFS. *in Holy Grail-style fashion* GET ON WITH IT!!!"
They are! Jools has just told everyone to take their seats. Exciting. Kind of.
10.21pm: Here we go
10.22pm: And the winner is … Barclay Card! A stunning album that really makes sense in these credit crunch times! *Roars from the crowd*
10.22pm: Oh I'm so funny
10.22pm: Quick recap of nominees
10.22pm: And the real winner is … drum roll please … the xx!
10.25pm: Hardly a shock then! The xx win it, like everyone said. But! We should celebrate. A great, great album, well deserved. One of the few on the list that actually sounds like it was made in 2010 (well, 2009 but you know what I mean).
Oliver says: "We've had the most incredible year. Every day we've woken up to something incredible we weren't expecting."
They sound humbled and thrilled.
10.26pm: As befits a rather calm night, the band receive a polite standing ovation. It dies down. They walk off looking chuffed. Then the chatter starts back up. It's not quite the shock, screams and tears that happened when "Elbow" and "Speech Debelle" were read out. But there's probably relief at Mercury Prize HQ that nobody (well, not many people) will be saying the judges ballsed it up this year.
10.30pm: If you've just joined us, The xx have just won the Mercury Prize 2010 for their debut album xx. It was our Album of the Year back in December 2009, of course. We loved the record because it recreated the melancholic feeling of London (or any big city) at 3am, and seemed to forge a completely unique sound - a minimalist indie outfit who took inspiration from R&B (Aaliyah) and dubstep (Burial). We particularly loved the "sumptuous vocal interplay between Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim". Let's hope this victory doesn't propel them towards too many coffee tables and, instead, gives them the confidence to produce an equally creative follow up.
It was the bookies favourite and a lot of people were expecting it, but it's probably the right result. Thanks so much for reading and for all your comments. I'm off to try and interview the notoriously press-shy trio. Goodnight!