Edmonton Journal

Wang Chung tonight and party like it’s 1986

- TOM MURRAY

There are several mysteries in rock ’n’ roll.

Who wrote the book of love? Why do fools fall in love? For listeners of another generation, the burning mystery might be, what exactly does it mean to “wang chung tonight”?

You won’t find answers to any of those queries here, though Wang Chung bassist and co-leader Nick Feldman has admitted the phrase, thrown haphazardl­y into the chorus of their 1986 chart topping hit single Everybody Have Fun Tonight, was simply a goof that producer Peter Wolf quite smartly realized could be utilized as an indelible hook. And so it was.

Wang Chung ’s heyday in the mid-’80s was short but impactful, with Dance Hall Days and Let’s Go joining Everybody Have Fun Tonight as songs that would go on to an extended lifespan as classic rock mainstays, as well as cue music for movies and television shows set in the era.

The band itself dissolved in 1990, but picked up again when Feldman and fellow core member Jack Hues decided to take another kick at the can in 1997. In between there were career shifts, solo records, and musical interludes for both, a necessary break that allowed youthful pigheadedn­ess to dissolve into mutual understand­ing.

Wang Chung is mostly a touring unit now, though Hues and Feldman did pop up with the 2012 EP and full length recording Tazer Up.

The band also serves as an integrated part of longtime road mates (and fellow ’80s veterans) Cutting Crew.

We spoke with Feldman from his home in Wimbledon, discussing career shifts, making movies with William Friedkin, and the Sex Pistols.

Q: There was a long period between reforming with Jack Hues in 1997 where you simply ducked out of performing. What happened?

A: It was creative fatigue, really. I didn’t want to generate anything myself, but I did want to be around other creative types, which is why I got into A&R. I worked with different musicians and artists at places like Sony and Warner, and that gave me new perspectiv­es. Eventually the call of the muse, and the need to create, came back. It was too strong to resist, and I’ve loved doing it ever since.

Q: It’s always interestin­g when someone has seen the industry from a few different vantage points.

A: There’s always been this dichotomy in my life, right back to the beginning of my career. It started after I was thrown out of university and blagged my way into being an agent for live bands. I discovered Adam and the Ants, but overall, the agency I was at had this terrible roster of bands. I decided then that my true heart lay with performing.

Q: That puts you right in the midst of the punk explosion in London, which must have been amazing. A: It was incredibly exciting. I worked on Denmark Street in the middle of Soho, which was the U.K. version of Tin Pan Alley. Just across the road was the room where the Sex Pistols rehearsed, and I’d always see them there. I was going to gigs and seeing amazing bands who were at the beginning of their careers, like The Clash. I actually got them a few gigs for hardly any money. The agency I worked for didn’t get punk at all, though. They considered it to be nonmusic. Very closed-minded. The punk thing was hugely inspiratio­nal, though, because it had people going out and doing it themselves.

Q: Which you did, moving from early groups like The Intellektu­als to Huang Chung, which you changed to Wang Chung at the behest of David Geffen. You had your bright, burning moment in the pop rock stratosphe­re, but closed shop in 1990. Why?

A: Well, the last record we did (1989’s The Warmer Side of Cool) was a bit of a polite, mild-mannered pop battlegrou­nd. Both Jack and I wanted to do separate things, so there was a power struggle. That record wasn’t the most fun to make, and we fell out for about a year. We’ve been good ever since, and as an A&R man, I often called on Jack to produce stuff for the acts I worked with.

Q: I’ve got a bit of a fascinatio­n for the soundtrack album you did for William Friedkin’s 1985 thriller, To Live and Die in L.A.

A: That was kind of insane. He’s still a friend and advocate for the band. I guess he used the song Wake Up, Stop Dreaming as a song for the rushes, and then decided he wanted to use us to score the film. We were bogged down in our next album, with the record company worried about what our next hit would be, so we jumped at the offer. He asked us for 45 minutes of music, and gave us so much freedom to work in. It was like the cavalry coming over the hills, a respite from having to come up with hits, a brilliant way of sidesteppi­ng commercial considerat­ions.

Q: Hit records did give you a career, though.

A: Oh, I know it. I love those songs because they changed my life. It’s also hard not to enjoy people’s enjoyment of those songs. Playing these concerts with Cutting Crew and Wang Chung, and seeing how people connect, is amazing. It’s a lovely feeling, and I’m very, very blessed.

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