There
is a row of buildings in Notting Hill, a few blocks from the Portobello
Road Gents. It consists, starting with the South End, of a large
whitestone that appears fairly new in contrast with the brownstones
surrounding it, occupied by a few lower income families living in
decrepid terraced properties or operating small ground level business
premises. Sarn Studios, one time tailor’s shop occupies the street level
space in the middle of the white building. The ground and first floor
are occupied by the exclusive ‘Keyhole’ Club where patrons don masks of
secrecy to preserve their identity. On the second floor there is a
sedate suite of offices that serve the studio owners with expensive
coffee machines and executive toys. All these buildings are owned by
affiliated members of the ‘Keyhole’ Club.
Behind
the outer, crumbling skin of the old building there are steel
corridors, painted blue, containing brisk, alert young people as well as
highly complex masses of modern machinery for business and
communications.
This
is the heart and brain of the organisation known as Z.T.T. (the
initials themselves standing for something secret). Its work crosses
national boundaries so that a mountain top telegram from the Himalayas
fails to raise any eyebrows.
The
range of duties tackled by Z.T.T. is immense and catholic. There will
usually be the smell of something international in the wind, although
Z.T.T. will often find itself called into local situations.
Anything
affecting large masses of people or what might set up a general
reaction across several continents is the work of Z.T.T.
Whatever
the situation, certain we are that from his office on the second floor a
slight, quiet spoken, dark haired man will set a trap to ensure that
all hell lets loose. He will not hesitate to set himself up against
seemingly impossible odds. If an agent is lost his one concern is to
replace the casualty and salvage the operation.
That man is Paul Morley, lore enforcement agent for Z.T.T.
WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GAUGUIN
WEARING DALI'S BRA
MICK MERCER
ENTERS THE POISONED WORLD OF
ART OF NOISE
(AS DICTATED BY THE P.M.)
A few days before my interview with Paul Morley I waited, watching in
horror, as my bus missed a fatal collision with ‘Big Mister Oil Tanker’
by centimetres. The art of noise would have been pretty colourful.
But
that never happened and I remain alive; to play the latest record
incessantly, because putting it on isn’t like putting a record on. So
you could say The Art Of Noise whipped my family.
“One,
the parody of the pop group and the second is they’re ZTT’s house band,
so if you want to know what ZTT is about you’ll get it in its most
undiluted sense through the Art Of Noise. You get the sound of ZTT, you
get the feel of ZTT, you’ll get the joke of ZTT and of course — what
we’ve been talking about — you’ll get the sense of ZTT coming up for its
first real confrontation against the machinery that has killed so many
ideas and ideals before now. You’ll get all of that out of The Art of
Noise.”
Paul
Morley used to pose around in big gloves, but we’ll get to that. When I
enter the cosy Portobello Road public house Paul Morley is sitting in
the corner. Around him young men drink and caper, dancing on tables,
seeking to impress. They kick drinks this way and that, they tickle old
men under the chin and goose fat women in crimplene slacks. Morley
doesn’t bother himself with this, sitting quietly to one side, chewing
on ulcers, a cookbook balanced on his head. Weird.
“Jerry
Lee Lewis did a really good record. It was a four track EP with ‘Never
Smile At A Crocodile’ on it. ‘Sunday, Sunday Driving’… ‘I Got A Picture
Hanging Upside Down’. What we wanted to do — it’ll happen more on ‘Daft’
(AONLP-2) a lot more — was apply that sense of Tex Avery… that sense of
turning things upside down a little bit, applied to sophisticated
techniques of new recording… which is why the Industry has taken over;
Phil Collins is a supreme example of that. I want to combine the spirit
of Charlie Drake — ‘Boomerang Won’t Come Back’ — and Jerry Lee Lewis’s
‘I’ve Got A Picture Hanging Upside Down’, with sophisticated recording
techniques, where Michael Jackson will simply combine rock‘n’roll
tradition with sophisticated recording techniques, which simply becomes
fascist in its form. So that was our intention.
“Good
answer that. The question was probably, ‘Do you remember Jerry Lee
Lewis’s ‘I’ve Got A Picture Hanging Upside Down?’, which of course I
do.”
Thunderbird One rises vertically from the gloom.
“Well
side one will be a track called ‘Basil d’Olivera’. I’ve always found
intelligent people respond quite positively to cricket… Samuel Becket,
Harold Pinter… and The Art Of Noise respond heavily to cricket.”
The Art Of Noise look dreadful on TV, rather like the Rah Band.
“Well, yes ... um ...”
Should Gooch and the other traitors be allowed back into the England team?
“Nah.
In two seasons time we’ll have about six… I’m talking about the Alan
Lambs… they find a way to seep into your culture by becoming English all
of a sudden. I don’t like Alan Lamb playing for England, He’s not
English! Cricket’s one of the few places where you can be racist. He
should play for South Africa and if they can’t play they can’t play.”
He’s got a bloody silly voice as well.
”That’s what I mean. When he speaks it’s like Tony Grieg.”
Alan Ball!
“It was bad enough Mike Denness playing for England, he’s a Scot! Arrhhhh… Alan Ball! Emlyn Hughes!”
I
buy him a distillery for this fluency and those men mentioned earlier
have taken to seated slimemongering, listening in? A&R men? I can
smell ‘em a yard off, but Morley knew what they were all along. CBS (was
it?) saw at the chandelier above our heads.
“It
was a combination really — what we’re trying to do — between the two
things that seem to inspire the nation at the moment. Ice skating and
pets. Like a Blue Peter video y’know? Tortoises called Fred and then
they turn out to be called Freda so they add the ‘a’ (anarchy!) and then
they say, ‘But don’t you do it because the paint might be toxic and
seep through the shell’. So it was Torvill & Dean, pets and the
video cliches.”
Paul
Morley has attracted the arrows of outrageous fortune like a porcupine,
but he isn’t flaunting them. Or at least not here. He knows Art Of
Noise are rebels. Our A&R companions haven’t twigged (and won’t) so
Morley raises his voice. He is, as it turns out, capable of brawling
with the best of them, but if you asked him he’d say it was nothing.
“In America Trevor Horn. In Britain Paul Morley and Trevor Horn and in Europe J.J. Jeczalik, Gary Langham and Anne Dudley.”
Tell me something that hurts.
”Hurts who? Hurts me? You want me to admit to an embarrassment?”
A LARGE embarrassment.
“Large?”
The spies list anxiously to port. “I think now it’s verging on the
ordinary. I think in two years it will be past the extraordinary. The
only reason it’s verging on the ordinary is just a manifestation of
Frankie in a way… that after a while the rhythm and momentum of that
machine finds a way to chuck you. In a couple of years hopefully —
because we like cricket — we’ll have the intelligence to overcome that
dilemma.
“It
is a dilemma,” he adds, raising his voice yet again. “It’s what I
disagree with about this fucking business, that they won’t argue or have
discussions in a constructive way. They smother you with their logic.
Their logic is always based upon their marketing, and marketing
techniques, about what a fifteen year old in Hull will enjoy, which is
why those magazines like Ms. have come up… and I hope The Art Of Noise
will apply a more rigorous logic to it.”
Violence
grows. A fop-headed exec delivers hesitant, fast forgotten, sarcasm…
regretting it instantly as the PM’s mocking glare sweeps away such
idiocy. The whisky is moved aside and Morley leans over to strike.
SLAP! (A pleasing sound.)
“Ha
ha ha ha, a precis!” he giggles over the sudden silence. “Why are The
Art Of Noise important? Because they have an intelligence, a distance
from what they’re doing, so therefore they know it’s a process and have a
way of keeping the music intact, so that… people do find out about
music, so they can at least put it on and enjoy it. The process around
it, which I term a farce, I hope people know it’s meant to be an
entertainment, in the sense that Graham Greene writes his books. An
entertainment. No more, no less. The music is important. The responses
you get from ‘Moments In Love’ is important.”
He
slips forward whilst an ogre’s back is turned and plops some scrabble
letters into a dry martini. I gasp at his audacity and ask about their
recent spate of tedious videos. Morley is unhappy! Art Of Noise records
are dedicated to a servile society but Island, the label whose
reputation was saved by ZTT, make far too many ultimate decisions for
Morley’s liking. His life may seem to be a bed of roses but who wants to wake up with thorns in their side?
“I
wish I knew how people can hear albums these days, I really do. When we
put out ‘Who’s Afraid Of The Art Of Noise?’ that’s why it was called
that. Who plays albums? Who can hear albums? It’s a really strange
thing. The only thing nowadays is they ride on the back of singles. It
never used to be like that. I used to buy loads of albums without
hearing a single. And with Peel slowly being elbowed out...”
Aye!
But let’s talk about cricket. Morley, a Surrey fan, remembers Ken
Barrington fondly but quite rightly keeps most of his admiration in
reserve for the British Brando, John Edrich. Morley is a wicket keeper,
which surprises me. I would have thought a spin bowler; his sweat
artfully employed. Did you dream of throwing yourself around on the big day and then not do it?
“No,
I used to throw myself around actually. I used to move myself this way,
then dive over. Big gloves? Yeah I did. Bit of a poseur.”
Kicker-booted cretins are smirking. Using words like blades Morley begins to stir the pot.
“You’ll
find anything new, like ZTT or Blanco Y Negro that comes along, comes
up against a machine that is thirty years old and is really rigid in its
set of rules and regulations… and you’re forced to fight against that,
and then fighting against that your true fight, which is against
banality and secondrate-ness, almost gets lost because you’re too busy
fighting against the industry to let you do what you want to do. And if
it doesn’t immediately make them a lot of money they don’t want to know.
You see, The Art Of Noise I always thought would take three years to be
successful. It happened after about eighteen months. I always wanted it
to be three years because it was like with U2, in a completely
different sense, by the time they’ve got the success they’ve been so
patient, so careful that when they get it they’re in a really strong
position and sometimes it’s better to sit and wait for your success
because then you are allowed to do things in your own way. U2 could do
some interesting things but their only act of uncompromising is not to
do a Smash Hits interview! 18 months wasn’t long enough really. I mean
you must have noticed it yourself how the first single has got to be the
hit, otherwise you’re deemed a failure, you’re deemed pathetic, your
record label hates you. Anne Pigalle for me would have taken five or six
singles. The first one got to 118. It was a miracle!
“I
chose the name The Art Of Noise very carefully, because to me the great
spirit of this century were things that were happening in art, know
what I mean? 1910’s and 1920’s. I got the name Zang Tum Tumb from
Futurism and I also got the name Art Of Noise from Futurism and it was
done in a very specific sense because Futurism to me, as well as making
some serious points about the role that you play on this planet, it also
poked fun at all those people…”
His
eyes do an intentional 180 degree sweep. “What I hate, what I really
hate is people who have made their minds up, completely. And that’s it.
They’ve got no fluidity to their approach… everything’s always
established, and they won’t budge from it. And I love the Futurists
because they poked fun at all those people that ‘knew’ what art was.
They’re too confident about it. They know what this is and they know
what to sell, so The Art Of Noise was always meant to be this thing that
could be anything.
“I
mean the industry won’t allow you to say, ‘This could be anything’. The
next record could be a glass being smashed over someone’s head, being
repeated forty-five times… and I still hope we’re allowed to do that.
Whether the industry allows you to is another thing.”
What do The Art of Noise think about Howard Jones?
”We
loathe the bastard. He’s a great indication actually of the efficiency
that now exists. Everyone is really efficient. I hate efficiency. People
like Howard Jones and all these hacks, go into a studio, very
efficiently control a melody and ally to that quite an interesting
lyric, and when I say interesting I mean in a sense that it sounds as
though it should go with the melody. Absolutely appalling gibberish and
to me Howard Jones is the ultimate example of that. I mean we used to
laugh at people like that because they were called Gilbert O’Sullivan.”
Hee haw. Are The Art Of Noise sexy?
“Well
I think they are. Probably the sexiest thing on the label, in the
purest sense. Obviously it was toyed around with, with Frankie and all
that rubbish but I think The Art Of Noise are really sexy, just on a
sensual level of a combination of sounds, flung together. I always like
things that are unexpected, that are flung together.”
Spandau Ballet, and their ‘style’?
“I
read something they said the other day where they offered their souls
to America to be the Number One band in the world and that says it all
really. I tell you, if you’re doing that then My God are you nothing!
You are NOTHING.”
This
sniping at jelly moulds proves too much for one of the slick kids and
he stands up, in that way, bolstered by booze. Oooof! Morley finds the
target. Time for action!
I
have never had a chair smashed over my back before: an interesting
experience. Morley unbelievably slugs it out, left and right, laughing
through the rough and tumble. Words are pretty irrelevant anyway with
The Art Of Noise, it’s the thoughts which are tantalising. Are AON
milking a void? If so we should thank them: eh mate, I remember thinking
as one more big girl’s blouse backed away from the skirmish. Morley
laughs again. “So the NME couldn’t find anyone to do Propaganda!!??” He
takes that hate out on these villains. “NME is a shambles,” he hisses,
nutting a belly-boy and for a moment the fury and violence escalates and
I think we’re goners!
But
that never happened and later, in Charing Cross Hospital whilst
awaiting check ups and comparing wounds I ask Morley (a split lip but
quite content) why Art Of Noise exist?
“Two reasons.”
Eventually
Paul Morley, a Grace Darling for a generation, gets put to bed. The
blankets are pulled right up to his chin and the sheet turned back on
top. Neat. A little bruised smile hovers above the material and he asks
for the light to be left on. Good night Peter (Barkworth, just passing
through), Good night Paul.
“To
be well dressed and in health, and very impudent, in this licentious
and undistinguishing age, is enough to constitute a person very much a
gentleman.”
EIFFEL TO PIECES
ANNE PIGALLE: ZTT Chanteuse. Hé Stranger on the Shaw (William)
For
over a year and a half Anne Pigalle sat around with a pile of songs
that she’d written with Nick Plytas waiting for something to happen. To
emerge out of the mess, ZTT had signed a rich gaggle of performers but
they’d struck a rich lode in Frankie Goes To Hollywood and everyone else
had to wait in line. With a French distaste for queueing, Pigalle had
bristled with impatience, so throughout 1984 ZTT had tried to placate
her with a series of Anne Pigalle ‘coming soon’ ads in the press. But
eventually Pigalle decided she couldn’t wait any more… “Trevor (Horn)
thought he was the only guy who could do it, because it was a very
subtle job and because he’s very clever. But he had to do Frankie. After
‘Relax’ he couldn’t really let them go back to what they would be on
their own,” Pigalle explains unpussyfootingly. “So he never had time to
do it and I decided to get someone else to do it. I didn’t exactly go
great, so I got ill. That’s my way of resigning. ‘Stranger’ wasn’t going
to be the single, it was just a song that was ready and I couldn’t wait
any more…”
LA
PLUME DE MA TANTE… ‘Hé Stranger’, Pigalle’s first offering since her
appearance as Via Vagabond on Nick Plytas’s ‘Hot Sagas’ EP, was — truth
to tell- an abysmal product, a rambling mess of intentions and
mistranslated ideas. The idea was to play the French post-war
songstress, the ballroom performer of De Gaulle’s boom time, but just to
use that as a springboard for her own song about a stranger being
adored and despised in a strange place, and sung of course by a stranger
in a strange place… (Albert Camus come on down). But slices of Trevor
Horn copybook production emerged from nowhere and withered away and the
whole lot emerged as gross caricature… Could do better.
Pigalle’s unprompted opinion doesn’t run much different: “I think it could have been much better than that.”
Why wasn’t it?
“Because
you get people involved in the project who just miss the point. I don’t
like explaining things in black and white because I think it’s great
that people can discover something.”
I’ve probably missed the point as well.
“Perhaps
not 100% but quite a bit. What I’m doing is quite a poetic thing. The
French girl coming to England from France. It is a poetic thing, but you
can quite easily turn it into a really gross situation. The record
doesn’t really satisfy me. I mean it’s OK, but the fight goes on.”
DISSOLUE TYPIQUE WENT TO MARKET…
In Pigalle there lurks a sense of injustice, not just at the way that
her intentions have been misunderstood by the record company, but at the
fact that all the press have played on is her French image.
“At
the moment I’ve got a record out and nobody speaks about the record,”
she complains. “‘Oh yes, She’s called Anne Pigalle, she’s French. Yes
she’s got black hair’. It’s ridiculous. I’ve read them and I think ‘How
long is it going to take to put the point across?’”
What hasn’t been getting across then?
“Everything.
Absolutely everything that I try to do. You get the lesbian types who
think that what I’m doing degrades women — which in fact is the complete
opposite. All this feminist crap does less good for women’s lib than
anything. People just stop on the image.”
Well the image is pretty strong…
“You
see what I try to do is to paint on two levels. One is quite obvious,
like the image of the French singer, but the other side is completely
ambiguous and much more subtle than that. For example ‘Stranger’ sounds
like a French song but I’ve never heard a song in French which sounds
like that. Obviously here they don’t know so they can’t make a
comparison — that’s fair enough — but I think that they should try a
little bit more. OK, so it was my first record, but they’re still stuck
on the fact that it’s French.”
Perhaps people are a bit confused seeing you as part of ZTT.
“Well that’s it, isn’t it? A lot of people hate me because they don’t like ZTT…”
ZTT practice a deliberate policy of disorientation.
“Yes, but not really. What have they done with me?”
That’s true. They haven’t done much.
“Because
I don’t need it. I don’t want all the crap. Everybody is realizing that
what I first proposed to the record company is the best thing. On the
LP we’ve got a song where we’re going to use a real orchestra, so at
least I won’t get the ridiculous drum sounds and synthesizers which I
didn’t really want. Now everybody’s realizing that it has to be
appreciated in a more subtle way. I don’t need all that stuff.”
ELLE A DES IDÉES AU DESSUS DE SA GARE.
“‘Hé Stranger’ is about a stranger, or about people who have a bad time
because people think they’re different. It’s not a glamourous or a
romantic thing at all. The thing about what I do — and that French thing
— is that even if things are bad there is still some hope. It’s
actually a sense of humour that the English don’t have. The English are
pretty thick you know. Tell me right now, where is the English sense of
humour they are so proud of!
“I
see it in people like Spike Milligan, but it’s very rare. I can’t see
any love of life. At the moment it’s so grim. I just don’t want to stay
here any more.”
Would you he quite happy out of it?
“Well
I wish I was in France right now but I know that if I was in France I’d
want to come back here. I’m one of those people who’s never satisfied
because I came here in the first place and there was a reason why. It
wasn’t just a whim. It was because there was something that I preferred
here, but it doesn’t seem to have evolved that much. All that
frustration — instead of turning into something positive — just seems to
turn in circles and just creates grim and nothing else.”
Does the French stereotype Pigalle get your back up then?
“Well
you see I thought it was quite good in a way because it’s quite funny.
The English don’t like the French and vice versa, and I thought it’s
quite a good idea to sell them that — but there is something else. I
suppose I was expecting people to be a bit more intelligent and here
they are getting stuck on a couple of pictures. OK. Maybe it’s my fault.
Maybe I think next time they’re less intelligent.”
The channel tunnel is a ridiculous idea.
Pigalle
will very soon be releasing her first LP ‘…Everything Could Be So
Perfect…’ — “With three dots before and three dots after,” she explains.
“Maybe that will tell people that there was something before and
there’s something after.”
Then again…
“Yeah. Then again I’ll have to say it quite a few times, but that’s what I’m here for.”
DOCTRINE IN THE HOUSE
The art of speaking somebody else’s language:
Propaganda’s Ralf Dorper’s tersely enounced English verbs boom and echo
around a sparsely furnished room adjacent to the Island Records canteen
(plate of food 10/6, prices includes spoon). His conversation is best
described as non-dithering — a state which equates with an exactitude in
Propaganda’s music, or rather their records (Ralf: “We make records
rather than music”) which some might interpret as chilliness but which
appeals to me through its very lack of clutter or randomness. They sound
nice too! Concise pop records. Consise records about pop.
Ralf:
“We are working with music in a different way. It might be more
economical or disciplined (than other groups). And we are conscious of
what we do. We are part of the machinery and we want to use the
machinery. (As opposed to the machinery using them.) The machinery is
getting a record out, promoting it, touring, going back in the studio —
all this what people have lived for a long time. Having maybe one good
idea then repeating it till the death of the idea. It is not what we are
doing.
“It
is a problem that most of the audience are used to this kind of music,
they don’t bother if people don’t change. They (the audience) expect
them (the groups) not to change because he people want to know what they
are to get. If you are the audience and you have to follow something
that’s changing every time, it demands something. It is much easier jus
to sit down and consume. We want to have the people consume us but also
to follow us if we go in very different directions.”
Two
records with Propaganda in common; ‘Dr Mabuse’ and ‘Duel’. The first a
grand opus of Wagneresque aspiration, the second a calm piece of studied
emotion. And the key to their difference is…
“The
theme. If you deal with a theme in a song, everything should fit that
theme. You shouldn’t use tools that are not equal (to the theme), you
shouldn’t use a production that is not going to suit the theme of the
record. With ‘Mabuse’ we had a very bombastic sound, the character
Mabuse was symbolising something extraordinary, something more of less
unreal so we had to have an unreal production — go over the top with it.
The idea of selling your soul is an extraordinary situation and you
have to make people aware of this.
“For
‘Duel’ we went for a simple approach. We used very consciously the
singer — the function of the singer and using both sides of the single
to have two opposites fighting each other. Each side is musically
symbolising one opponent. One side is poppish and smooth and the other
is really hard and percussive. The listener can decide which the winner
is. When we do music we go to the extremes and sometimes we meet them
together in one song but with ‘Duel’ we wanted to show both extremes in
that pure way.”
Twelve
months passed between the two discs. As Frankie went to Hollywood,
Propaganda relaxed in Dusseldorf and began tinkering with their LP and
the blueprint that was to become ‘Duel’.
“We
had a few problems with timing as Frankie were ZTT’s top priority. We
didn’t want to work and knew that people wouldn’t pay much attention to
us because of that. ‘Pleasure Dome’ took a ridiculous long time to
make.”
Propaganda
use the same engineer as Frankie. During this spell Andreas Thein left
the group to be replaced my Michael Mertens. Michael was “already in the
band” albeit invisibly.
“When
we did ‘Mabuse’ there was no real pressure, we had nothing to prove. I
would say’ Mabuse’ was a sort of classic, it was a hit in Germany and we
had to follow it with something which was hard work. We realised it
wasn’t going to be the constellation we had before.”
The constellation? This is star talk. And Andreas crack under the pressure?
“No comment.”
An LP to be called ‘A Secret Wish’. A headful of ideas and a fistful of themes.
“But
not an overall theme because then it would be like a concept album. All
the songs work on their own but there is a more or less theme of
hunting for something. Something you can’t reach, a certain kind of
perfection. This is the kind of feeling we want to get over on the
album. With ‘Mabuse’ it was a journey for perfection by selling your
soul to someone through whom you could reach it. Another song, is
‘P-Machine’, in this you give up your human values as machines are
supposed to be perfect. But I think in the end most of them look like
love songs really.”
Really? So the themes have no tangible effect on the listener?
“Like
I think that ‘Duel’ doesn’t need an explanation. It is a simple song
and like a good movie you can watch it and enjoy it and later discuss it
and find things in it that at first you didn’t realise.
“Most
records are just for consumption really, the record player then the
dustbin. We are just pointing out that there can be more behind the
record but it is not like we’re advocating that people have to listen to
find something. That’s not really the point. We are not working on a
level where you have to understand something — just, if you’re careful
about it, it’s worth caring about it, and if you don’t then it is still
okay because we deal with simple norm-pop format.”
I
first met Ralf at the cold end of 1983. Trevor Horn was downstairs
creating the instrumental finale for the 12 inch of ‘Mabuse’. As a treat
I was allowed in to hear the work in progress. After a complicated
series of instructions had been programmed, many minutes passed until
all were ready and the tape was rolled. A vile, cacophonous mess fell
from the speakers. “It doesn’t always work” grinned Horn. But on the
record it did.
Memorably.
“When
we signed to ZTT nobody knew what would happen to ZTT. ZTT are now
bigger than any other label just because of the building up of Frankie.
We are aware of this and that they are very hip in England. We can see
that people pay us attention because we are on ZTT but we see it more
generally because, for example, we are a German and in Germany nobody
knows ZTT (ZTT readers rush for the airports). People know Frankie and
they know us but they don’t know there is a label ZTT. They don’t know
who Trevor Horn is and they don’t know who Paul Morley is.
“If
you broaden your scope and go to different countries all the aspects
which are important here lessen the further you get from England. So, in
the end, the idea of ZTT is fine but it is not a worldwide appeal
really. We don’t care too much if ZTT is jut a fad, hip for two years
then destroyed by the press or whatever. We won’t suffer at all.”
Like
I said, Michael Mertens had been an invisible Propagandist until
Andreas’ departure left a vacant quarter in a metaphorical pop photo.
From Abba came Bucks Fizz. And, in another direction, Propaganda.
“We
are very conscious of this band format of having two boys and two
girls. Because of the Abba connotation and we think just for the outlook
it is the perfect pop group, the perfect modern pop group. The old pop
group had guitar, bass, drums and a singer, now we’ve moved into other
fields. Two girls and two boys could be the perfect pop group on a
broader scale just for the optics.”
The optics? Make mine a large colour transparency.
I think suddenly of Kraftwerk, fellow Dusseldorfians, even if from the posh end of town…
“I wouldn’t mind this comparison, I was influenced by the way they work but not exactly by the music.”
…which is what I was thinking just as Ralf was saying…
“You
must be aware that what you do right now might be forgotten in a year
or still of value in five years, we prefer the last. That means you have
to be very conscious of what you do so you shouldn’t really, even if
the market is positive, sell your soul to the market. You could sell
your soul to your dream and also to the public so that they are aware
that you are doing it. You can follow the path on which other people did
go but you have to know where the path is leading and you shouldn’t be
blind as you are walking on the path.”
Quite. And ultimately…
“It
would be nice to do what no German band has done, that means to be
enormous. We are interested to be part of the pop mainstream, flowing
with the stream but standing out of it. Like in so many medias, all the
groups that are considered to be the pop scene are English groups and I
think it is time to have different groups and we are the German group to
do it. To prove that it is possible, even on a scale like Wham! Or
Culture Club. Propaganda is about mass appeal and in the end good
propaganda will be like that — you reach an audience then you can use
propaganda. You more or less have to sow the seed.
“We don’t look back. In the end we will.”
Ralf tells me that Propaganda’s least interesting fan mail comes from Britain.
FINALE
**
The charges were simple enough! to whit, all those whose names appear
on the roll of execution did willingly consent to avoid the central
issues of their time, that Great Britain was being ransacked and the
people demoralised. Profit, status quo (hoot) and FAME were all
important. As such the lack of artists’ concern in mirroring or
confronting these or any issues marked them down as sympathisers,
cowards and expendable (lest this happen again). The day of the great
revolution had come. I mean they really were still writing poppy love
songs!
The molotov cocktail landed perfectly — erupting amongst Howard Jones’s
tousled coiffure. Where was his angst and toytown care now, as he ran
screeching for his jacuzzi? By the time the water was bubbling his face
was completely charred.
Out on the street Anne Pigalle had Andrew Ridgeley’s prize possession gripped in a pair of large wire cutters.
Julie Burchill,
unaware that she was in the wrong line, cheered her little head off
shouting, ‘All good things come to those who wait’, and promptly dropped
at the question, ‘Any last request?’
Paul Weller
put another call through, extending the pincer movement of his left
flank, warmly welcoming Jesse Rae into the HQ control room. Private Eye was demolished. Waugh on pop indeed!
And what a day it was for the Thompson Twins.
Fully recovered from exhaustion after recounting their own brand of
spoils: how they rued that decision to shoot yet another video on home
turf. They were stopped inside the chaos of Heathrow Airport, bundled
inside the engine cowling of Concorde and lascerated as the engine began
to whirrrr, by the very lovely mastermind of pop himself Mike Read, who was found several days later, dead at the controls.
The Redskins (gawd love ‘em) slept through it all but celebrated over the mourning papers.
Boy George and Spandau Ballet!
Prime working class stock and therefore guiltier than most of touting
themselves and their wealth like would-be Lords and Ladies. They didn’t
look half so glamorous being dragged round Spittalfields behind a
tractor.
I myself saw a baffled Nik Kershaw running for cover, ignored by one and all. And there was Malcolm McLaren, his undercarriage shot gloriously away, screaming for a new start.
Bono
out on the streets, white flag waving before he knew what was
happening. Caught by a gentle breeze and lodged unceremoniously in a
weeping willow.
Pete Townshend, right in the thick of it, oblivious-man. ‘I’m making a new album. Anyone interested?’ KABOOOMM!
Joe Strummer’s bath-chair, riddled with woodworm. Pete Burns strangling the contents. Reliable chap, Pierre. Marilyn trying to remind us who he was. Magnificent Simon Bates laughing, John Peel dressed all in red, Peter Powell
sky diving without a parachute but fully miked up (‘My goodness…
incredible! I’m dropping like a stone. See you in a minute!’) and good
old Tears For Fears without a hope in hell, tied on the railway lines as the corpse of Phil Collins (back catalogue included) thundered towards them.
DUGGA DUGGA DUGGA (the sound of vengeance beautifully and swiftly delivered.)
In the war crimes court the following day Big Country
wielded some mighty extenuating circumstances as defence but no-one
wanted them anyway. The court fell asleep as they danced in tandem,
grinning, grinding and sweating. On a balcony overlooking the main
gallows Paul Morley took another sip of his import
quota, approved the final artwork of the latest execution list and went
back to bed, hatching new plans for Britain.
Howard
Jones woke up in his bed, drenched with worry. His eyes bulged with
terror as he looked around him… at his own bedroom!!! Of course, it had
all been a dream!
The molotov cocktail spiralled neatly through his open window.
To be instigated…
