A new lease of Life
Boy George is a rare breed of pop star. He’s never really been much fussed about what people think of him. Not now, and not 30 years ago when Culture Club first broke new ground. They were a band that could only have been born out of the renegade spirit of the Eighties, which took pride in challenging a world slowly marching towards capitalist conservatism and traditional values.
The New Wave band blended reggae and pop, their sound making them instantly distinctive, with lead singer George’s smooth vocals infusing the songs with heart and soul. Culture Club blended sensuality and spirituality, and Boy George became a figurehead for a new kind of queerness that revelled in fucking with stereotypes.
As the frontman of the band, George received most of the media’s attention, which was fixated on his androgynous look. Typical of his irreverent humour, he famously toyed with questions around his sexuality, saying he preferred a “nice cup of tea” to sex. George later revealed, in his 1995 autobiography Take It Like A Man, that he had been in a secret relationship with bandmate Jon Moss, adding that many of Culture Club’s songs were written about their aff air.
But George’s solo life was to take a darker turn in 2005 when he was convicted in New York for falsely reporting a burglary. A spell in jail in the UK on charges of false imprisonment followed three years later. His life was on a downward spiral of substance abuse. But, where other music stars may have struggled to find their way back from the seemingly limitless temptations that fame and fortune can deliver, Boy George picked himself back up, spent time healing and has since enjoyed a renaissance.
Not quite embracing history, but allowing his legacy and authentic self to step forward and reclaim his rightful spot as a music icon, he repositioned himself as a credible club DJ and producer, returned to TV as a judge on The Voice, and joined Culture Club on a huge US and UK tour ahead of the release of Life, the band’s first album in 19 years, which is out now.
The Attitude Awards 2018 honours Boy George and Culture Club for a legacy that helped put queer pop at the top of the charts. Without them, there would be no Christine and the Queens, Mykki Blanco, Lady Gaga or Ah Mer Ah Su, making them deserving winners of the Music Icons award.
“What makes an artist?” George ponders as we settle for our interview. “We live in an age where there are lots of great performers, great dancers, great singers, but it feels as if everyone’s writing the same song.
“It feels like everybody’s trying to get the fur coat, the limo, the house — everyone knows what’s possible now. I can honestly say that before I started Culture Club I had no passport, I had never been out of the country.”
Looking back at those more innocent times, George says he didn’t even have a bank account. “I had no particular aspirations. I didn’t really want to go anywhere,” he laughs.
He survived on the dole or occasionally working in a shop to get by.
“I guess I wanted fame, but I wanted it on my
More than 30 years ago, Culture Club put queer pop on the map. Now, as Boy George explains, they are back with a new album, a fresh take on the world — and the Attitude Music Icons Award
own terms,” he recollects. He turned down the chance to tour with Roxy Music when he was informed he’d have to pay for the privilege. It was apparently one of many opportunities that George rejected, much to the bemusement of others.
“I was belligerent,” he shrugs, while serving that crafty Boy George grin. The man may have matured but the boy is still very much in his spirit. “I’m definitely much less belligerent than before,” he assures me.
So, Life. Why a Culture Club album now?
Well, that’s what we do. I’d like to make a record every year. One of the things I did like about the Eighties is that people brought out albums all the time. What I’ve realised in the past few years, is that I don’t make enough music. I write a lot, record a lot, but in terms of releasing, I’d like to do more. There was no point doing Culture Club unless there was a new record. That’s always been the problem, and that’s always been the issue from the beginning of us discussing working together again. I’m not particularly a big nostalgia freak — the past can be a wonderful thing, but too much of it can give you crow’s feet [ laughs]. The fact that I’ve been doing other things such as the DJ- ing, I’ve had a break from nostalgia.
I don’t rely on nostalgia for survival and perhaps that’s the difference between me and lots of other people. I mean, nostalgia… it’s purgatory at a certain point and unless you can inject something new into that, there’s no point. And I’ve never really been someone who has lived in the past or solely relied on my past.
The whole point of you, what you came along and did, was such a page break, it was about a future. Pop music always looked to the future back then.
I think pop music was about selfexpression, it was about having a voice. My generation was brought up constantly being told to shut up, and when you’ve grown up without a voice, the natural place for you to go is the music business. That’s a place where you’re allowed to be loud, show off, be an exhibitionist, all of that. But I also wanted to change the world and make a difference, and I still do — I don’t think that’s changed. Of course, there have been distractions over the years but where I am now as a person, I’m very focused on what the purpose of my life is. Why am I doing? What is my objective? And in a funny sort of way it’s much more important to me now than it was when I was 20 because I was just being a typical 20 year old, and thought I had the undeniable right to be whoever I wanted to be. It wasn’t something that I even questioned.
To make a living as an artist today you have to be associated with brands, and the point for your generation is that your talent was the thing you could speak through.
It’s a bit of a modern myth that you have to be associated with a brand. I’m not really associated with a brand. If young kids start buying into that they’re in trouble because it’s not sustainable. That’s a very trendy word isn’t it, “sustainable” [ laughs]? I understand what you mean. It’s so weird that we live in this time where everybody thinks there’s only this one way of behaving; it’s so interesting… There’s this lack of individuality. People don’t want to stand out because the internet is like a two- way mirror to everyone’s life, and what you see about young people is they’re so concerned with what their friends are doing and what’s trendy and what’s fashionable. They’re buying into this idea of brand ambassador/ fashion blogger/ internet model, but unless you’re an individual you’re not really making a cultural impact. People are being intimidated and scared to express who they really are. I call it “neutered by the net.” I made a joke the other day about saying my next album was going to be called Fear of Having an Opinion.
That’s the consensus for wanting to be liked isn’t it – getting the likes?
Well, I’m over that. When I was 19 and maybe in my mid- twenties, I was much more focused on why people didn’t like me. Now I just accept that some people don’t. It can be simply the way you walk into a room, the way your hat’s cocked, what you wear, what people perceive you to be. This is one of the weird things about fame — it’s such a projection. You’re only famous because people believe you are, and a lot of what
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people think of you has very little to do with who you are as a person. Sometimes when you’re doing gigs, you get these people who are holding this picture of me from 1983 and they refuse to accept that I’m 57 and I’ve got a beard. It’s like, “Thank you for bringing that to my gig.” It’s just such a weird thing to do [ laughs]. Some of them want it signed. They just refuse to move on and they’ve got this idea of you and they wanna stay with it. I’m very much focused on who I am now and what I’m doing now, bettering myself on a personal level.
How much of that is through song- writing?
There’s a positivity on this record that’s very diff erent to Do You Really Want To Hurt Me or Let Somebody Love You. I think it’s less “woe is me.” I’m not that person any more.
Obviously, the song that every self- respecting queen is gonna go to first on this record is
Resting Bitch Face [ Boy George laughs]. How do you explain that to the rest of the band? Is that a conversation that happened?
I don’t think we needed to.
What’s the dynamic of the four of you now?
In the past, it was me and Roy [ Hay] more as the kind of creative nucleus of the band, but on this particular record Mikey [ Craig] has stepped up much more, Jon less. So it isn’t an exact science, but one thing that was diff erent on this record was being a bit more open. Resting Bitch Face is a really good example because originally that was vocally in a diff erent pocket and Roy said, “Well what about doing it like this?” and I was like, “Mmm, OK,” and it sort of went a bit more Bowie. It’s slightly off the beat and I liked that idea and I was defi nitely much more open to not being so controlling.
How easy was it to let go?
Surprisingly easier than I thought.
Is it satisfying to do and is it a lesson to yourself about what you used to do?
It’s a lesson and it’s satisfying because you see how much pleasure it gives everyone else. It also takes some of the pressure off ; delegating is a bit of a relief [ laughs]. You go: “I don’t have to be in control.” I’ve done spiritual seminars and gone away on these self- empowerment weekends, particularly in the Nineties, and I was told a lot that I would learn more if I listened [ laughs]. What I’m discovering is that you need to keep replenishing that part of you that wants to learn and wants to change, and I’m doing that by not watching as much TV, watching more stuff on the internet such as TED Talks. I find myself listening to people who have interesting things to say about life and that aff ects what I write and the way I think, and every so often I’ll slip back into that person that I kind of am, at my core.
Which is?
I’m a lot of diff erent things. I’m a Gemini so I’m a cultural sponge. I’m a million diff erent people from one day to the next. I’m very multi- personality, but I think at my core I’m a very decent person and that’s what I’m always trying to get back to: being patient with myself, being patient with other people.
The grand love story that you entered into, we all know what that feels like. It’s the man who can never love you back.
I don’t know how I feel about that now because I feel, at this point in my life, that a lot of people I thought I loved I didn’t really love, and I didn’t really understand what love was. That is the question: was it love? Is it love? Is it obsessiveness? I don’t think it is. I think love is actually quite mundane and calm. I think because of where I am in my life now, because I view love in that way, it’s diff icult for me to look back. I don’t regret any of it, and I’m not editing my past.
You’ve always had that incredible alpha quality. There’s a toughness to you that refuses to apologise for who you are.
I’m brash, I know that. I was thinking about this the other day. I suppose it’s a Gemini thing and it’s also a me thing, I often talk to people as if I’ve met them before and I’m quite brash and impersonable [ laughs]. I don’t realise I’m doing it. Some people don’t take kindly to it.
As a gay person you have to stand up for yourself more than straight people do.
When you’re my type of gay person the world is not quite as tolerant as you think it is. I encounter lots of what I call silent hostility. I come across people who are clearly not comfortable with what they think I am, and you see it a lot all over the place.
Two things that you’ve done to mythologise yourself are Taboo, the musical, and Take It
Like A Man, the best pop autobiography ever written, in my opinion. Were they about organising in your head what you meant and who you were or was there a degree of selfmythologising?
Colour by Numbers. No, I would like to suggest that most of the things I have done in my life were thought out and planned but they’re not really. I think it’s much easier to make sense of your life in hindsight, you can sort of say, “Oh, that’s what I meant,” but it isn’t what you meant. If I look back, the Nineties were sort of quite a spiritual phase for me: about 1995 I really thought that I’d found the Holy Grail and the elixir of existence, and I was very happy, and I was very sane and really thought that was a full stop for me. Then, I went on and did more research to find out how bad things could get [ laughs]… you’ve got to be careful when you start thinking you’ve got it sorted out.
What’s the quintessential Culture Club record from those first four albums that you’d take away with you? Actually, shall we reclaim Karma Chameleon? I always feel it’s given such a bad rap, but that song is fucking genius.
Do you know what? Prince loved that song, he used to play it over and over — he
was obsessed with it. I remember reading something about that a few nights back. It’s a song we’ve always done live, you cannot leave a show without doing Karma Chameleon. I’ve never really had an issue with it.
But it’s one of those things that I don’t feel is understood; the lyrics are heart- breaking. It’s about dreaming about the person being able to love you and yet because there’s a sort of lightness to the delivery of it, that’s a sort of clash against it. Like Do You Really Want To Hurt Me sounds like the lyric.
But it’s an oxymoron, Karma Chameleon, it’s sort of happy sad. But even with Do You Really Want To Hurt Me, on stage I smile and yet it’s such a sad song and again, I always say that song is an oxymoron, too. It’s sad but it’s also that thing of comfort and misery. I always go back to Joni Mitchell: “There’s comfort in melancholy when there’s no need to explain, it’s just as natural as the weather in this moody sky today.” There’s something really comforting about pain and drama. On the new record, there’s a song called Runaway Train, which has got a complete change in style. We’re waiting to do a recording of that with Gladys Knight.
[ Gasps] Shut up.
And I talk about that a lot on stage because I say when I was a kid I used to listen to her constantly.
You’re gonna duet with Gladys?
Yeah.
When’s this happening?
Soon [ laughs], soon.
That’s like…
It’s a moment [ laughs]. She’s always been my favourite singer, always. I’ve always loved her voice. Growing up, I used to listen to all those songs.
How’s that happened?
There was talk about me getting people on the record and I thought: “The only person that I want on this record is Gladys Knight.” What I said was it doesn’t need anyone else, but if it was gonna have someone else, it would be Gladys. I’m not a big fan of getting people on your record to sell more. I feel they should be the people who belong.
You’re not gonna do a duet with Little Mix?
Maybe. I’m not saying I’m gonna rule it out but what I’m saying is what I prefer to do is work with people who resonate musically with what I do. To me, it doesn’t matter if they’re young or they’re old, I can’t bear all that ageism. One of my least favourite sayings is: “You’re not relevant.” I fi nd that such a modern thing to say and it’s very annoying. But things are changing, and those rules about old, young, whatever, they’re going out the window and I’m really happy about that. Because when I was 13, I was listening to jazz of the 1930s, not sitting there going, “Oh, it’s not my generation, it’s not relevant.”
How do you imagine it’s going to feel being in the studio with Gladys? That’s gonna be amazing.
I can’t wait, I’m very excited. My smile was the biggest smile, I was like internal joy when my manager rang to say she agreed to do it. I was like [ gasps], “I’m so happy!” It’s a strange one because if you’d have told me when I was 14, “You’re gonna one day go in a studio with the woman who sang those songs,” I would have just been the happiest 14 year old in the world!