‘I just like getting on stage
WHEN A BOX HIT Mark King at the end of a Level 42 concert in Germany, he knew it contained a gift from a fan, but what? “We had a track on the album called I Want Eyes,” Mark, 64, tells me. “And the box was in a bag with a note inside the bag saying, ‘Mark, for you I will give my eyes’. I opened the box and they were two real eyeballs in there. I don’t know whether they were sheep’s or goats’ eyes, but they freaked me out.”
Opening for The Police at a German sports hall two years earlier in 1981, the crowd’s “gifts” seemed deadlier.
Bassist-and-singer Mark heard a bang and felt something hit his arm. “I thought I’d been shot but it was a banger,” he recalls. “Then Boon” – guitarist Rowland Gould – “reeled back and said ‘I’m bleeding’.
“He wasn’t. Someone had thrown a melting choc ice at him and under the stage lights it looked like blood.
“After that we started to move around on stage a lot more because a moving target is a lot harder to hit.”
Actual hits came easy for Level 42. They had six Top Tens in the 80s, including Lessons In Love and Something About You – their first US smash.
King’s fast, fluid slap-bass technique – played with his “thunder thumb” – was as much a component of their unique jazz-funk infused pop as his velveteen vocals.
In 1987 Polydor Records insured Mark’s right thumb for £3million, inspiring the headline, The Man With The Golden Thumb. “I did a lot of DIY,” he grins. “One slip of the saw…”
Father-of-four Mark still does DIY at the Isle Of Wight home he shares with second wife Ria and daughter Marlee.
At the height of his success, he spent like a Lotto winner – Aston Martins, a Ferrari Testarossa, 18-carat Cartier watches – but, he says, “Material things never seemed important.
“Yes, I had the Aston Martin but I got no pleasure from the car. I get more buzz from the Tesla I drive now, trying not to destroy the planet.” He adds: “What really mattered to me was being a better player.”
Cowes-born Mark has vivid memories of his tough early life. “My dad trained as a boat builder and carpenter, but when he finished his apprenticeship the shipyard was shut down. He had three young kids so he joined the prison service doing a job he absolutely hated – slopping out the cells.
“We lived on a prison officers’ estate, a converted army barracks. We had one brass tap, an outside toilet, and a zinc bath in the kitchen which I had to share with two slightly older sisters.
“If the neighbour came knocking for a cup of sugar, mum put the lid on the bath and started chatting.”
Growing up Mark was “nuts about music” and had a natural inclination to drum. Hearing there was a kit for sale in Newport, he walked five miles to see it – aged nine.
“It didn’t occur to me that Mum and Dad didn’t know where I’d gone. I walked home and Mum was freaking out, but Dad drove me back and spent ten quid on this beaten-up kit. “He was on £17 a week then, so it was a big outlay.
“My mum was the one we were terrified of. She coined the phrase ‘Wait till your dad’s gone out!’ No ‘Wait till your father comes home for us’,” he laughs.
King joined his first band, Pseudo Foot, at 11 after jumping on stage and drumming with them at a holiday camp in
Forness Bay. “Two weeks later they contacted my parents to recruit me, which meant Mum had to do all the roadie-ing.
“I got £5 a gig, so I was on £15 a week at 11, which was nearly as much as Dad.”
They played as a trio on the Ryde Queen – a paddle steamer turned nightclub – and at the local pub, frequented by his teachers, covering pop hits of the day.
Mark sang songs like Rocking Robin and Long-haired Lover From Liverpool. He put a fiver in the family pot and spent most of the rest on vinyl.
He adored Cream’s Wheels OF Fire double album. “I used to crank it up and drum along. It must’ve been a nightmare for the neighbours.
“I used to make cardboard cutouts of Cream on lolly sticks” – the poor man’s Youtube. “I was far more into players than pop stars.”
Especially jazz fusion musicians like Billy Cobham, and Lenny White of Return To Forever, whose bassist
Stanley Clarke had a huge influence on Mark’s style.
Kicked out of school for wearing denims, King worked on the Ronson’s cigarette lighter factory-line before becoming a milkman.
In 1976, aged 17, he set off on a pilgrimage to Lenny White’s home in New York via a Freddie Laker flight.
White’s advice was simple: “New York, London, New York… wherever you are, you’ve got to make it happen.” And that’s just what King did. He moved to London at 19 and was 21 when Level 42 played their first gig at the Guildford School of Music, where keyboardist Mike Lindup was studying.
Mark had known drummer Phil Gould since he was 14. Phil’s younger brother Boon completed the classic line-up. They took the name of the band from The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy’s meaning of life – 42.
KING WORKED at Macari’s guitar shop in London, where he tried to emulate Stanley Clarke’s bass-playing and watched closely when US musicians dropped in and played. “I soaked it up and took that knowledge and a borrowed bass to rehearsals” – paid for by generous pal Robin Scott (of M and Pop Music fame).
Andy Sojka, of Elite Records, caught them and offered to release one of their instrumentals if they added lyrics.
Cue their first single – 1980’s Sandstorm.
“I was crashing in Walthamstow in a rundown flat living close to the bone at the time. Andy stuck it out as a white label just as the British funk movement was emerging.
“Radio Caroline made us a powerplay. To hear our music played on radio was so exhilarating.”
Polydor signed them in 1981 and they made Top Of
The Pops with Love Games. Seven minor hits later they went Top Ten in ’83 with The Sun Goes Down. “For us it was slow and steady, always gigging – work, work, work. You’ve got to graft.”
In 1987 they toured the US for four months supporting Madonna. When did you feel rich? “When I was able to get the first mortgage, my girlfriend” – his Dutch first wife Pia – “was pregnant and our landlord was selling”.
A £5,000 advance for a solo album did the trick.
They divorced after ten years and three children. In the 90s, King bought a pub in Ryde, now sold, and named it Joe Daflo’s – a contraction of their names, Jolie, D’arcy and Florrie.
“Financial success is a blessing but that’s not the whole thing for me. I’ve got lovely kids, we’re one big love fest. I’m very happy my children are proud of what I’ve done.”
Level 42 split in 1994 but reformed in 2001.
The current line-up has Mark’s younger brother Nathan on guitar plus Mike Lindup (keyboards), former fan Pete Ray Biggin (drums), and a three-piece brass section.
The Kings enjoy simple pleasures. Ria gardens and grows vegetables, Mark does the cooking.
Lockdown was a downer. “I’d always had a purpose and suddenly all the certainties were gone. But I learned not to take anything for granted. What I like best is getting on stage and making people happy; that’s 100 per cent joy.”
So why is their music so resilient?
“It takes us back to happier times,” he says. “The world seems a much harder place these days.”
Level 42’s UK tour runs from October 8 to November 4. Details at level42.com/event-listing/tickets: aegpresents.co.uk