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2nd March 2003
What happened to good, honest hate?
DAVID BECKHAM clearly has the power when it comes to protecting himself from media rumours or impending scandals, and can even get away with wearing an Alice band. We have just-add-water lesbians at the top of the charts and Christina Aguilera has boys kissing in her video, which cannot be shown on kids' TV, but the aforementioned lesbians, Tatu, dressed in short tartan mini-skirts and crisp white school shirts, are being given free rein.
Avril Lavigne, with her lyrically-awful song that says "could it be any more obvious?" (I doubt it) has even sanitised anger, and what hope is there for controversy when the revolution has been televised? Is it all over for pop?
The highlight of this year's Brit Awards was a bottom grope between Kylie and Justin Timberlake, and Kylie screaming to her minders to get her model boyfriend away from her. So, girls are finally wearing the trousers but have they got them on the wrong way round? I add Beckham to the list, as he is an honorary girl. If a male pop star or celebrity were to treat a woman the way Kylie treated her bloke, he would be called a "cad". But at least a few of us know that however sweet Justin might be, Kylie has conquering America on her mind. And I imagine Justin is well aware of this and is fluttering his eyelashes at the queen of British pop for further column inches over here.
Whatever happened to pop stars being honest in their irreverence towards each other? Duran Duran hated Culture Club and we hated everyone as much as they loathed us. It was great to read the snipes of Holly Johnson about how I was a "tired old pantomime dame", or Pete Burns saying he was going to "send me a wreath" on hearing that one of our songs had failed to chart.
These days everyone loves everyone but the recent photo of Christina Aguilera giving the evil eye to Holly Valance at a fashion show has more of a ring of truth. I realise I've jumped from my opening rant about Beckham but I meant to react to another blatant lie on the Internet gossip tree Pop Bitch that I tried to con my friend, Zee Asha, into a recent search-for-a-diva reality show. The facts are that I was asked to be part of this show on the premise that it was finally an attempt to search for organic talent. After all, the term "diva" hardly makes you think of an anorexic, washboard-style, anaemic pop strumpet! One thinks of a big, camp woman who could cause an earthquake with one note.
THIS brought to mind my friend Zee, who has landed a role in Chicago as Mama Morten. The fine-voiced Ms Asha was dragged through an embarrassing audition full of the typical "I want to be a star at any cost" dregs. The panel was horrified to discover Zee could sing and it was red faces all round. So, I was misinformed and, as I have been very vocal about these "boil-in-a-bag" pop acts, it would be rather like selling my soul to the devil. I guess having a veto over the media is all to do with how powerful you are at the time. Not that I'm trying to put myself across as some media-shy type.
Mind you, I think it was a bit of a cheek for Rhona Cameron to host that stupid TV show The Luvvies and then accuse me of being a desperate celebrity. Especially when she took part in that recent I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here! travesty. You'd think Rhona would have more respect, bieng one of my kind, but she probably needs the purse. I abhor the term celebrity because it conjures up some prat in designer clobber racing from party to party. I do party and it's no crime but I'm also a worker. I do stuff.
9th March 2003
Gagged in the land of free speech
ONE HAS to shake one's head in amazement at the news that the US has gone anti-French because they won't join in the war against Iraq. Apparently Americans are renaming French fries freedom fries, taking all French cheese off their burgers and boycotting the import of anything French.
All this in a country where freedom of speech is held in such high esteem. Does this not prove that what is really revered is freedom of speech just so long as you agree with us? Actors including Martin Sheen and Sean Penn, who have spoken publicly against the impending war, are being forced off TV and run the risk of being blacklisted.
Haven't we been here before? Remember Senator Joe McCarthy and the "Reds under the Bed" campaign that forced actors and writers to flee their country? Clearly, Saddam Hussein is not the most friendly knife in the drawer, but let's remember that it was our Government, along with the US, who tooled him up in the first place and put him in power. In all the coverage of this war, why is no one discussing the fact that we, along with many other Western countries, continue to trade arms and chemical weapons with countries who are known for torture and using those weapons to kill their own people?
George Michael is being harangued for doing the publicity treadmill and talking about the war, but despite what I might have said about him in the past, I uphold his right to say what he likes. It's not important whether anyone agrees with him or not, nor even whether he has a record about to be released. Does anyone seriously believe he timed it to coincide with this war?
The idea that if you've made pop records or movies, that somehow removes your right to have political views is insulting. When I appeared on Question Time to debate Section 28 with Stagecoach magnate Brian Souter, the media was full of snipes about the TV show dumbing down. But I don't recall Mr Souter's replies to any of the logical questions thrown at him attracting comment. I think, when it comes to homosexuality, that I am most definitely not out of my depth.
SHOULDN'T we musicians, like anyone else, worry slightly about the motives behind this war and whether the US is getting it right? After all, the FBI who are trained to perfection recently managed, after 30 years of hunting for a wanted fraudster, to arrest an innocent 74-year-old who had flown to South Africa with his wife for a wine-tasting holiday and chuck him in jail for several weeks. They discovered later that the real criminal was living it up in Las Vegas.
Let's think about apartheid: it took long enough for the caring world to put that reign of evil to bed, but it was perfectly all right for musicians to campaign against it. Staying in that part of the world, why are we not doing anything to help contain the spreads of AIDS which is decimating the African population?
We are very selective when it comes to which dictators we confront. Funny that no one is seriously challenging the French for inviting Robert Mugabe to Paris with his wife who went on a £70,000 shopping spree. Was she pondering the plight of her country as she popped from Prada to Gucci?
It was left to gay activist Peter Tatchell to attempt to wrestle Mugabe to the ground. It is a brave man who is prepared to take on the might of the gendarmes, just as he had the guts to race down to Brixton and square up to Mike Tyson and convince him to renounce his homophobia. Maybe we should send him out to Iraq.
16th March 2003
It's scary when leaders lose touch
AFTER all the fuss in the media about pop stars and celebrities speaking out against the war, I was surprised to see our Prime Minister on MTV - that's music television - trying to convince a group of teenagers to support him and delue them into thinking they have a say.
Then, after last week's column, I received lots of letters agreeing with my defence of George Michael, who I tried in vain to persuade on to my weekly LBC Radio talk show.
Apparently George M was annoyed about a joke I made about him on a previous show. All I had said was that we had both made terrible records about war. I was referring to his Shoot The Dog track and my own cringe-worthy War Is Stupid ditty.
Anyway, it was also pointed out to me that the night Labour stole the election from the Tory Party (the Tory Wake), hip pop group of the day D-Ream were roped in to perform their optimistic dance anthem Things Can Only Get Better. Or was it "Bitter"?
Then of course there was a party at Downing Street where Oasis, Blur and a whole host of musical heavyweights were summoned to give New Labour a hip edge. I was noticeable by my absence but so were the Nolan Sisters and the Wombles. Why is Blair allowed to abuse the pop medium when the media rages against any musician who dares to challenge him?
Last week I spoke to a friend at ICM, one of the biggest musicians' and actors' agents in America. Some hack had realised that many of the actors defying their punch-drunk President were clients of ICM and managed to get a quote from one of its employees. The conversation was broadcast on national TV and the ICM e-mail address was published. The company was bombarded with 10,000 enraged calls and its phone lines went down for a whole day.
I AM told that Bush has a 50 percent national vote for his war on Iraq but one must remember that the American media does not really focus on covering international news. Which, in a way, is rather like the methods of suppression used by dictators. Bush looks extremely puffed up and confident while our Prime Minister looks emotionally drained and in need of a month in a health farm. I get the impression that he was not expecting the reaction he has received from his party or the British public and he might be regretting being so quick to support Bruiser Bush.
It's a bit like the Queen was when Princess Diana was killed. How quickly did she return from Scotland when Buckingham Palace was swamped by mourners? Sometimes those we entrust with power are seriously out of touch with public opinion. Isn't that scary?
It might sound crazy to defend Saddam Hussein but while most other countries, including Israel, have enough arms to protect themselves, Saddam must feel like some little child being ordered around. And, sorry to repeat myself, but there was a time when both America and Britain considered him fit for his position.
I applaud Clare Short for threatening to resign from the Government if we go to war without another resolution at the United Nations. Mind you, why would George Bush be concerned about a second vote? He snuck into power without adhering to the democratic notion of voting.
As a kid, I remember seeing a slogan sprayed on a wall that said: "If voting changed anything they would make it illegal."
23rd March 2003
Blair's like Maggie on a Bad Hair Day
AS I WRITE, I've got that genius Smiths song that goes 'Panic on the streets of London / panic on the streets of Birmingham' buzzing round in my head. It seems that now is a good time to start thinking ahead about what might happen to our cities after the war in Iraq. The threat of random terrorist attacks will, I am sure, become very real. I am hearing more and more friends say they will no longer ride on the tube because they are scared of being blown to bits or trapped after a chemical attack.
And one has to ask, did the government in cahoots with America have this Middle Eastern war up its sleeve for longer then we realise? Before any fighting started in Iraq there were construction contracts being offered to rebuild the country after war. It makes me suspicious about the true motives behind this conflict.
On Thursday night hordes of teenagers descended on Parliament Square chanting "Blair out". On the news it was suggested that these young people did not offer a true reflection of public opinion and a Blair spokesman said, "We don't base policy on street protests." Perhaps our leader should remember that it was mostly young people - first time voters (myself included) - who helped him in to office. We foolishly thought we were ridding ourselves of Right-wing politics for good but Blair has turned out to be Maggie Thatcher on a bad hair day.
Why don't we replace the term democracy with "de-mockery"? Because the man or woman on the street counts for very little right now. Like many people I have lost faith in politics and my fear is that Tony's gamble may result in a huge Right-wing about-turn. Nothing would ever convince me to vote Tory but, come the next election, I'd sooner vote for a cabbage then Tony Blair.
This week, Americans who lost loved ones in the September 11th tragedy stood in the street to protest against this war. Does that not send a message of extreme bravery and compassion? I wish I had such an immense ability to forgive.
On April 24th, I and a collective of new voices will be taking over London's Café de Paris for an evening of complete and utter self-indulgence. We will be performing new songs only, and anyone who comes along will be disappointed if they call out for old hits.
I'm taking a leaf out of Eminem's book and creating a series of alter egos but unlike Eminem, I will be standing by every word that comes out of my mouth. Only the drag will change. I've being on a writing frenzy for the past two months and it's been like a writer's version of the movie The Red Shoes, in which the poor girl puts her shoes on and can't stop dancing.
As a writer you get these terrible bouts where you start thinking, "I'll never write another song", but suddenly ideas hit you like a tidal wave and it's full steam ahead. The bile and bitterness and snippets of joy have been pouring out of me like my tears over this war. Have you too been glued to the TV coverage, hoping it's all just an illusion and that Bruce Willis is about to appear and the director will shout "Cut"?
Sadly, it's all too real and the after-shocks will be just as scary. I know we can't live in fear, and nothing will stop me going about my business, but it's been a sad week for humanity.
30th March 2003
Nothing can beat Russia with love
ONE WOULD imagine that visiting Russia, or Moscow to be precise, as I did last weekend, could be somewhat scary with all this war and war-on-war stuff going on. However, it was much the same as ever - a little more commercial but still very Russian.
No one seemed remotely interested in the conflict but then Russia has had that sense of being self-contained, with all those chest-like buildings that serve to warn residents that the state is bigger than the individual.
For the first time in years I missed my flight and had to jump on a later Aeroflot departure, and then my two boxes of records did not arrive. I did wonder if it was deliberate because I was being a little huffy at the desk (think Michael Winner with PMT).
The officials at Moscow Airport are as friendly as ever. Imagine Alaska in bare feet and a fig leaf and you might just edge towards how cold they are. No apology for the records not being put on the flight. "You will come tomorrow to collect them," snapped the Russian version of Arnie Schwarzenegger. I sneered - inwardly.
Luckily, my two pals and fellow DJs, Bel Brown and Dave Davis, had their records and offered to let me borrow them. Not that it mattered because, like the rest of the world, Russia has become fixed on a certain sound.
The first gig was full of confused teenagers looking at my spooky make-up and not getting the eclectic mix of tunes being spun. The following night's gig was to a bit of a ritzy crowd and they seemed to get it, or were at least stylish enough to think they ought to. When visiting other countries, one is forced to trail around to certain bars and VIP rooms to be stared at by those considered important. I don't really enjoy all that clinking of champagne glasses and fake smiles.
However, I do adore Russia. OK, one should not base enjoyment of a place on the men but I have a weakness for Russki chaps. In fact, as you head towards any former Eastern Bloc city, the men just look ravishing. They are particularly unfriendly but being the weirdo that I am, I find indifference to be charming.
I met a very nice chap who kept me company for the weekend. He had a wife and two kids. Russian guys who swing are simply matter-of-fact and blunt about it.
THE city has blossomed since my last visit - lots of ritzy wine and champagne bars - but while the Westernisation of any city might make the residents feel more comfortable, it takes away the element of surpris.e Because of such things as MTV and easy access to new music, or the rise of home-grown DJs, they get set in their - or our - dull ways.
Trance music (which is gay disco for straights) is big in Moscow. I don't play it. It's so frustrating to travel anywhere and not get the local hips shaking. Still, it's much the same in many cities across this country. The world has become homogenised and the disco has been sanitised.
Still, the trip was an inspiration and I wrote a song called Sanitised. I haven't written one about my lovely Russian friend but then punk group the Electric Chairs have already written a ditty called I Fell In Love With A Russian Soldier.
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