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4th March 2001
Too Old To Party but Not to Jump Around
TEN years ago I probably would have left the door open and joined the party but I'm clearly not as young, willing or as rock 'n roll as the groovy rock group Placebo. We have been staying in adjacent rooms here in New York, at the very trendy Soho Grande Hotel, and Placebo were having one of those late night bashes. Brian, their androgynous front man, warned me that door between our penthouse suites was open so I rang security and told them to lock it. Brian and his band are on the kind of whirlwind promotion tour that would make a beginner dizzy. Forty-eight hours in New York, then off to Italy and Paris. How do they do it?
I've been on the road for three weeks and, after doing five gigs in a row, I just need to hug my pillow. My first ever DJ tour of the Americas has been a success but it has felt like starting from scratch. Strangely, my last date, at New York's trendy Twilo Club, was poorly attended but it was a Wednesday night and the wind was bitter.
Getting American clubbers around the idea that I DJ has not been easy but my first US DJ mix compilation has entered the electronic chart at No. 3, so someone gets it. The highlights were gigs in Washington, Boston and Los Angeles and the crowds have been open-minded and, to quote Liam Gallagher, "mad for it".
At home, dance music has become very corporate and segregated but here in America they seem happy to be educated or surprised. One fellow DJ in Washington exclaimed: "Man, I thought you would be playing much softer but this is banging."
In my DJ sets, I tend to jump around from style to style because I like variety but some folk see that as a crime. A reviewer from a US dance mag wrote: "As a pop star, Boy George was all about style but as a DJ he seems confused." When will people learn that I live for confusion?
You have to remember that I first discovered the power of music in the Seventies, which was a very eclectic and confusing decade for music. On one side you had Michael Jackson mincing about in front of a Laurex curtain and on the other, the Sex Pistols spitting and causing mayhem. Then you had lover's rock, reggae, disco and The Wombles. Oh! What a glorious mess! I am constantly dismayed by the lack of musical variety on radio and on the dance scene & I certainly donıt wish to add to it.
Sing it with Soul
I HAVE just been told that my radio show, Clubversive, which has been regional on the Galaxy network (bless em) for the past year, has just been picked up by Kiss Radio in London and I am one happy bunny. I have tried from day one to support dance music of every genre, even though I loathe the term. Of course, it all comes down to personal taste but I canıt help feeling that some of the most genius records keep on getting ignored.
The latest single, Get A Life by Rae & Christian featuring the legendary Bobby Womack, should be sitting at No. 1 but we live in an age where true soul is neglected for insipid, dreary, anaemic dross. Iım not suggesting that only black musicians or singers can be soulful but it obviously helps. Irish folkster David Gray is brimming with soul and every shop or eatery you go into in America, especially the health stores, seem to be playing his album.
Itıs great news for Eighties singer Marc Almond because Gray does a version of one of his hits, Say Hello Wave Goodbye, and itıs glorious and reminds you of what a great songwriter Almond is. Now, if I could only get Marilyn Manson to cover Church Of The Poison Mind or the Baha Men to do a Calypso version of Karma Chameleon!
11th March 2001
Great Music is More Than Mere Hear'Say
I realise that this subject could get tiresome but when you feel as strongly as I do about the art form we call music, I am happy to risk tedium, sorry! I am not one of those sad twits who were glued to every episode of Popstars because I found the whole thing depressing. Unlike some of my less discerning gay friends, I didnıt suffer years of abuse and ridicule to stand by and watch my saviour, music, being dragged into the gutter.
I have no real beef with the kids in Hearısay they seem sweet enough. But I feel utter contempt for the greedy, talentless record company trogs who are abusing their power and insulting the art form that they are being paid handsomely to protect.
Whoever told the Popstars judges that they know anything about talent? Who set them free from Butlins? Is it any wonder they look so jittery in interviews as they attempt to convince us that this blatant money-spinner has heart and soul?
It is outrageous that Hearısay have been given slots on CD:UK, with Ant and Dec blowing smoke up their bottoms, and worse still to see them on the (oh so cool) Priory, which promised us the cutting edge but continues to wield a blunt knife. The greatest crime of all is that the Brits committee chained, funnily enough, by the head of Hearısayıs record company allowed them to appear at this yearıs supposedly prestigious Brit Awards. This shows huge disrespect to the many great talents in this country who have no chance of receiving the amount of hype and media backslapping that this band have been afforded. It seems as though everyone is buying into the notion that talent and self-expression are not worth a look in. We must start demanding more from the music industry because its rule is to present and encourage talent, not force-feed and brainwash us with mediocrity.
Nina Simone said that America has racism in its veins. Well, Iım starting to think that we are riddled with naffness. A case of too much anemic blood, processed sugar and white bread? Is the record industry being run by a bunch of farmers or butchers? How long can it go on culling real talent and chucking us chicken feed?
FORGET about Hearısay. Whoıd blame them for jumping at a career offered on a silver platter? Why would anyone serious about a career in music bother with integrity when justadd-water stardom is up for grabs? I am constantly being asked for advice from youngsters who want to break into music but I can only offer them gloom. Even as an artist who has made millions for the industry, I still get record execs telling me that I need to make another top 40-style record.
When I first started writing songs, I had no concept of what made a hit and I still donıt. But if todayıs mentality had prevailed back then, or in the Sixties, Seventies, or Eighties, just think what we would have missed.
I fully accept that most big record companies are just funky banks with suspect morals but the amount being spent on Hearısay cannot be justified when passionate artists and real singers are being cast aside for the equivalent of a fast food snack.
Recently, I have started to feel frustrated by my level of negativity and sadly itıs much easier to find things that I hate. So Iım going to start making lists of things I love, such as the new Missy Elliot tune, J Majik and Kathy Brown, El Hula, Depeche Mode and Bushwaka, Persecution Complex, Dark Globe, The Colein, Dylan Rhymes and Meat Katie, Jill Scott.
Phew! I feel better already. Going one better, Iım gonna buy several copies of my fave tunes and send them randomly to my friends, like a musical chain letter, with the promise that it will absolutely improve their lives.
18th March 2001
Why I Was Right to Reject Big Brother
I was asked to be on Celebrity Big Brother but a mixture of snobbery and sheer terror made me decline. After watching a couple of episodes, especially the one where Vanessa Feltz went on an emotional frenzy and started daubing on the table, Iım very glad I said no. My hero, David Bowie, recently said that rock nı roll had been completely demystified. Well, maybe stardom in general has been brought down to base. I donıt think itıs a terrible thing to discover that famous people have problems Iım living proof of that - but maybe we are taking it too far. Watching the stars under the microscope on CBB was depressing because even when they were expressing sadness and shedding tears you couldnıt tell if they were being genuine. It seemed as if they were working the camera far too much but then they are skilled at it.
I didnıt really enjoy watching the last series of Big Brother because it was boring and futile but at least there was a hint of realness - or was there? Can anyone act real with a camera shoved in their face - and who wants to be filmed getting out of bed looking like a bomb site.
If I had appeared, I would have gone to bed in full make-up and dressed in my stage clothes the whole time. Back in the 80ıs, I never let anyone see me without my full regalia and on tour I was known as The Hand. When room service waiters brought food, I would only open the door wide enough to grab the bill and shout: ³Leave the tray outside.² These days, Iıve relaxed a bit but I loathe it when people ask to take photos of me in my casuals.
Any woman who likes to pay attention to her appearance will understand. Call me paranoid or weird but I am really only Boy George when Iım in my full paint; the other guy trying to buy organic veggies in Waltrose is an imposter.
I must add that Vanessa was only voted out because she was too camp and vulnerable and because she is a gay man trapped in a voluptuous Jewish Princessıs body.
Lord knows what my fate would have been. It would have been a relief to be booted out because I love my home comforts and I like nothing more than dimming the lights and slobbing around in a pair of ripped sweatpants, dipping sugar-free ginger biscuits into a hot cup of Bancha Tea.
CBB proved that the masses find blatant neediness a terrible flaw and, while I donıt want to live in a world without it, there are better and safer places to vent your spleen. Try therapy and let our stars remain neurotically understanding.
A Sweet Message
Moving on now to the worldwide fear or romance and vulnerability. Iıve just seen Chocolat, a film steeped in romance and optimism. I had read that it was ³an unrealistic and juvenile flick² but I thoroughly enjoyed every romantically stupid moment. The filmıs message was, for me, all about the fear of romance. Film-goers, especially the chaps, are quite happy to sit and watch bombs exploding and people being shot, and they are equally comfortable with in-your-face sex. Itıs proper intimacy and, yes, romance that makes them squirm.
The film also showed that religion, with its condemnation and lack of tolerance, is hugely unromantic. Go to see this film but if you walk out saying that it was too soppy or too long then I suspect you need to take a look in the mirror. The chocolate was metaphorical and telling us that we could all do with a bit more sweetness in our lives. You don't need to run out and buy a bar of chocolate, just put romance on the agenda.
25th March 2001
Let's listen to this silence of the lambs
Oh, the power of words. Recently I wrote about the Starbucks coffee shop chain and complained that it had not added delicious "soy chai lattes" to its UK menu. Having been turned on to the delights of these in America, I felt it was my duty to demand them here.
Well, Starbucks bosses obviously read this column because you can now get soy chai lattes almost anywhere. Now, if we could only get more restaurants, hotels etc to start providing a better selection of dairy-free, slaughter-free dishes, I'd be an even happier boy.
With the foot and mouth disaster looking to spread further, the timing couldn't be better. I can't help feeling, as a vegetarian for 17 years, that these food crises are nature's way of telling us to change our eating habits. I keep hearing friends, mostly meat-eaters, saying how horrible it is to see so many sheep being slaughtered but they donıt mind digging into it with a dash of mint sauce. Letıs face facts, we are eating far too much meat and the farming industry is clearly cutting corners to keep up with the demand. I realise itıs foolish to expect the whole human race to turn to tofu but maybe we should seriously think about it.
Sadly, animals have no voice but maybe these diseases are their way of saying: ³Let us graze in peace.²
Cheap Shot, Priory
Clearly the producers of the music show The Priory read this column because they attempted a bitchy jibe at me this week. They do this pointless segment where a grocer or a waiter rings in to say that they serve someone famous. My local grocer appeared, telling us he sold apples to Mel C, and this week it was (past tense) one of my favourite Indian eateries. A stocky chap was filmed wearing a mask of yours truly and Zoe Ball said: ³He sounded more like Phil Mitchell than Boy George².
Ooh scratch your eyes out! Was this because I slated The Priory for putting the greatest manufactured band in the world, Hearısay, on the show? Well, I stand by my comments and I wish to tick them off further for making a spectacle of Danniella Westbrook. I realise the show is named after the starsı favourite drying-out clinic but it was a cheap shot to have an emotionally strung-out Westbrook as a guest. I wish Danniella had turned the tables and asked her hosts if they ever indulged in a little Bolivian disco powder. That would have been interesting viewing.
Danniella, please stop doing on-air confessionals and get some good therapy. Youıre no worse than anyone else. You just made the mistake of getting caught.
Well Done Wogan
Terry Wogan must be slapped on the back for helping to get Eva Cassidy, the late but great folk singer, into the UK charts. Apparently Terry was playing Cassidyıs version of Somewhere Over The Rainbow and then by chance a home video of Eva performing the song was shown on Top Of The Pops 2 and the album flew into the charts.
Who would have thought that Wogan would play a key role in saving modern culture from the grasp of stage-school brats and cheerleaders? Always liked him, heıs a nice Irish lad too!
It seems that we can only look backwards these days to catch a glimpse of how quirky pop music used to be. On last weekıs TOTP2 I saw a vintage live performance by Rufus Thomas, who was wearing a bright pink cape and matching half-mast trousers over white plastic platform boots. Camp? It was beyond camp!
There was a time when quirky spelt cool but those days are clearly long gone. How would Ziggy Stardust fare now? I Judge Dread to think!
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