‘I don’t really care if the new album is a hit or not’
Older, wrinklier and only three-strong, Take That are still a force to be reckoned with. They talk to Neil Mccormick
Britain’s original boyband, Take That, turns 30 next year. “We’re not boys any more,” says Mark Owen, once the band’s sweet-faced pin-up, now a grizzled 47-year-old. “But I don’t think the word boyband had even been invented when we started. We thought of ourselves as a pop group. And pop never gets old.” A 25-track career retrospective,
Odyssey, is released this week, and next year Take That embark on a massive arena greatest hits tour. “It does feel like the end of something,” says Gary Barlow, carefully. The band’s original songwriter and frontman, he is dapper and bearded at 47, with the deliberate speech patterns and patient conviction of someone who leads from behind.
“But it’s not farewell,” interjects the third member, Howard Donald, the eldest at 52, unshaven, unkempt, lounging in sportswear with an air of laidback amusement, as if he still can’t quite believe stardom is his life.
“It’s a dangerous word, farewell,” says Barlow. “It gives you nowhere to go, does it? It gives you zero options.”
“Well, it gives you a few years off. Then you can come back,” responds Owen, with impish humour. “Which is what we did!”
Seated in a plush London hotel suite, the hirsute, wrinkled trio don’t exactly look like boyband material any more. To be fair, they don’t seem remotely concerned about it, exuding the bluff, relaxed air of grown-ups comfortable with their life choices.
“If I could be bold, I don’t give a s--whether the new album’s a hit or not,” says Barlow, a man once almost defined by a sense of pressing ambition. “The music is only a piece of the pie now, its not the be all and end all.” There are three new songs on Odyssey, and others have been re-recorded and remixed to create a narrative telling the band’s story.
Despite the phenomenal global success of their successors, One Direction, Take That remain the biggest-selling British boyband of all time, with
28 top 40 singles in the UK and seven number one albums. But the music business has changed almost beyond recognition since Take That first got together in 1989.
“We can’t worry about streaming and new platforms and whether it’s going to be played on the radio. Even if it’s a flop, we’re still going to go on tour next year and play to 600,000 people, which will be more than most acts.”
Originally there were five members, including Robbie Williams and Jason Orange,in the band that was assembled by Manchester impresario Nigel Martin-smith. “Before we even had a record deal, he used to tell us we were going to be superstars,” says Barlow.
The manufactured band life is often characterised by restrictive rules, but Barlow considers that exaggerated. “They were guidelines really. The thing is, Nigel really cared, so it wasn’t like him ruling over with a big stick, it was imparting knowledge. We were all really ambitious. Nigel impressed upon us the idea of hard work. If there was a room full of people, we would shake everyone’s hands.”
“He used to say: ‘Be nice to people on the way up, and they’ll be nice to you on the way down,’” recalls Owen.
“No one was, though, were they?” says Barlow, to guffaws of laughter. “Goddammit! He lied!”
In 1995, following controversies over drink and drugs, Robbie Williams quit, going on to become one of the most successful solo artists in British pop history. “It started to feel restrictive,” admits Barlow.
“We were big everywhere in the world, and it was before
Youtube, so you had to go in person. One of the recurring horrible feelings I used to get was waking up and going: ‘Where am I?’ And you’d go to the book and go: ‘F---, I’m in Japan.’ And you can’t go out and get p-----, cause you’ve got 12 hours of interviews. I think Rob possibly felt it the most because he was the youngest. He just wanted to go crazy, but he’s in this band who work their arses off. We went days and weeks without a break. It was exhausting. And it wore us out.” After soldiering on for a year as a fourpiece, the band broke up in 1996. “This idea that pop stars are invincible is a crock of s---, and I think the public knows that,” says Donald, keen to emphasise they have no complaints. “Everybody goes through hard times. But I’ll tell you what, working nine to five your whole life? That’s harder.”
Owen recalls the young Take That meeting Ringo Starr in Monaco in the Nineties. “He said, ‘Don’t let them work you too hard.’ So whenever I meet a young band and they ask for advice, I pass on Ringo’s words.”
“I think it’s really bad advice,” retorts Donald.
“Well, we never listened anyway.” says Barlow. “We still work too hard.”
Take That reunited as a quartet in 2005, essaying sophisticated anthemic pop rock, with all members sharing songwriting and lead vocals.
“It was originally in our diaries as five days’ work,” says Barlow. “We really didn’t know if anyone wanted to hear from us again.” The mature version proved even more popular. In 2010, Williams rejoined for the hugely successful Progress album and they went on to win best British group at the 2011 Brit Awards. “We danced, we were on the tables, we celebrated, which is something we don’t do very often.”
Williams subsequently departed to concentrate on his solo career, and so did Jason Orange, tired of touring life. The surviving three-piece released two hit albums, though 2016’s Wonderland was held off the top by Ed Sheeran. They had to keep working though, because in 2014, their involvement in a tax avoidance scheme led to a Inland Revenue bill of £20million. Barlow has called it “one of the most stupid things I’ve ever done.” Embarrassed, the band repaid their debt in full.
They have maintained positive relationships with both ex-band mates. “We have walked through so much life together. It’s like there’s a private language we can only speak together,” says Gary. “For me, it would be a wonderful thing if maybe, one day, the five us would do something together again,” says Owen.
So it would appear that it is not yet the end of the saga of Britain’s longest-running boyband. “It is the end of part two,” says Barlow. “And that excites me. What’s next? We don’t know! But I think knowing that this is the end of a chapter will make us come back hungrier, and work harder.” This declaration appears to alarm Owen. “I’m already working as hard as I can!” he comically protests. “Don’t listen to Ringo,” quips Donald.
‘I used to wake up and go: “Where am I?” And you’d go to the notebook and look and say: “F---, I’m in Japan”’