Winning the Mercury brings mixed blessings.

The Mercury Prize winner is announced next Tuesday, but one former victor - Tom Grey from Gomez - writes exclusively for MW about the so- called curse of the Mercurys

As the last festival closes the last of its heavily secured and poorly signposted entrances, as autumn leaves begin to be trod underfoot, the anticipation of another Mercury Prize drifts in and does a pretty good job of joining the leaves, under our feet. It's not that I'm bored of talking about the Mercury Prize - well, perhaps a little - there's just a touch of mettle fatigue.

Winning the Mercury Prize was truly the most astonishing event in my life. I was 21 years old, had joined some friends in making some music for pleasure, had suddenly and quite unexpectedly got a record deal, made one, and within six months won the biggest single award for music in the land. It was a freak occurrence. I doubt very much that a story such as ours could happen again. Untouched by a marketing man, unfettered by stylists, without any of the nauseating fake mythology that the press loves to devour. However you perceive us, we were just trying to be unlike everything else.

It changed our worlds. We went from being a few lads who wanted to put out a gatefold album simply to see what it would look like to skin up on, to selling over a million records. Ten thousand was our highest hope. To this day, I travel the world playing music. I think it's clear that wouldn't be the case if we hadn't won the prize. I am indebted to it, its media whirlwind and its support of originality.

Though not abroad, the prize has considerable negative ramifications at home. With an establishment/critical stamp of approval, we were bound to be re-assessed almost immediately.

In fact, it's inevitable you'll be called crap and told to leave the dancefloor within seconds of winning. Unlike other industries where people might just put this down to envy, an ...