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[Kirsty
opens the envelope with her subscription copy]
My god! It is here. Here's the transcription....
INTERNATIONAL
AESTHETICS
Fourteen years
after 'West End Girls', the Pet Shop Boys are still selling Out arenas around
the world. Typically theatrical, they're latest show Features orange hair,
exaggerated eyebrows and a radical set by architect Zaha Hadid. We caught
up with them in New York to ask: What's the wig idea? New York City, early
November. The Pet Shop Boys' world tour is coming to End of its first leg.
Having kicked off in Miami and done the rounds of The Sates, it concludes
with a couple of nights at Manhattan's Hammerstein Ballroom which coincide
(sic) with the arrival of Elton John. For all his money, he looks down from
the second floor balcony with as much delight as the sweating throng below
when the Pet Shop Boys launch into a finale of 'Go West'. Only the promotion
of Watford to the Premiership can have given him more pleasure all year.
Backstage afterwards, Neil Tennant isn't so much concerned with Elton's
thoughts on how the set looked or how the concert went, as with one tiny
detail. 'Did you catch my little reference to Geri Halliwell?' he implores
excitedly. 'Learn to ignore what the photographer saw', he bursts, putting
a circled forefinger and thumb to his eye to recreate Geri's laboured gesture
in the video for her debut solo single, 'Look At Me'. Fourteen years on
from their first hit, '
West End Girls', the Pet Shop Boys' most recent album, 'Nightlife' has been
one of their most coolly received in Britain. It hasn't stopped the dynamic
duo selling an arena this month, but does come as a bit of a blow that more
people would rather live Ricky Martin's 'La Vida Loca' than bounce to 'New
York City Boy'? Having set off to find out where pop's most articulate artists
see themselves as we head into the next century, I have my answer before
we've even said hello. They're having the time of their lives. A band who
chose to be pictured sitting down on the cover of their debut album, the
Pets never used to be known for much more in the line of passionate expression
than a good yawn. A few years on, they finally paraded themselves on stage,
albeit buried among and often replaced by a case of dancers. Since then,
however, they've moved closer and closer to revealing themselves both on
record and in front of their fans. The new album is their most personal
and intimate since 1990's acclaimed 'Behaviour' and, despite the presence
of four very hairy eyebrows, two orange wigs and one pair of voluminous
trousers, the show's stripped-down ambience almost verges on 'rock'... Well,
rock by Pet Shop standards. 'Our first show was theatrical mainly because
we thought rock shows were boring, 'recall Tennant, 'And maybe we didn't
have the confidence we would be entertaining enough! In the new show I have
tried to push myself to communicate with the audience, but there is still
something larger than life about it. We do tend to run counter to
whatever else is going on and this decade', Tennant pauses and smiles, 'Hasn't
been the most *visual* time in music'. Before images of Oasis swapping Ben
Sherman shirts for Pet Shop Boys' orange space helmets (circa 'Very') have
time to form, Tennant continues. 'We live in an age when pop culture is
very naturalistic; everyone looks the same. I think Pet Shop Boys work in
an area of style and design which people find puzzling, because in pop music
there's no desire to do anything out of the ordinary'.Nightlife Review Pet
Shop Boys: Disappointing album By the BBC's Chris Charles If Neil Tennant
were ever to resume his career as a teen-pop journalist, I wonder what he
would make of the Pet Shop Boys? Chances are he would pontificate about
them being as relevant and important now as they were 15 years ago - dismissing
more realistic claims that they were, by the turn of the century, a spent
force. Tennant has already gone on record as saying Nightlife "reminds me
of one of those Frank Sinatra albums from the 50s...it's a sort of modern
pop-dance version of one of those". They must have sent me the wrong CD.
But wait, delve
into the lyrics on In Denial - a dreary 'father/daughter' duet with Kylie
- and you find a more realistic assessment of the current situation. "I
feel like quitting this job for a while, getting away before it gets any
worse today", he groans. The words of a man whose heart is no longer in
it, one suspects. Sure, there are sprinklings of magic dust within Nightlife
that briefly raise expectations. For Your Own Good, for instance, is a rousing
opener which mixes Twin Peaks mystique with thumping beats and trippy synths
- spoiled only by that familiar nasal whine. Similarly, the hip-hopping
Happiness Is An Option, with its whispered rhetoric about bodies, beds and
Russians offers a ray of hope, but it is a faint flicker in a large, grey
area. You only have to hear the singles for the broader, inferior picture.
I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More (with apologies
to the Manics) is pure disco claptrap, while the Village People-inspired
New York City Boy is about as funny as mouth ulcers. Of the rest, Closer
To Heaven is a mild irritant, Radiophonic is traditional Europap and You
Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk is a cracking title (and that's
it).
Not that the
PSB faithful care a jot what I or anybody else thinks. They'll still be
descending in their droves on a record store near you eager to pick up this
not-so-magnificent seventh long player. Lenny Beige, you can rest easy once
more - for this certainly won't raise any eyebrows. INTERNATIONAL AESTHETICS
(Cont...) The last time I saw Neil Tennant was when he took me on a tour
of Noel Coward's London for the 'Twentieth Century Blues' project last year.
While his gunslinger Chris like to lie low between Pet Shop Boys albums
(unless his work brings him closer to his beloved Arsenal), Tennant seems
to enjoy extra-curricular challenges, dealing with everything from gushing
strangers at gigs to putting together a major show with equal grace and
an almost parental gentleness. The first time I met the pair was backstage
on their first tour. Even then, Tennant had an air of the mother hen about
him. He admonished the dancers for feasting on brownies he suspected had
hash in and strove to make conversation with guests, while Chris pulled
silly faces in the other direction. Then, as now, they're music fans before
they are pop stars. When I saw them in Italy they were evangelical about
local groups from their trail of Eu rope; backstage here in New York, Chris
is on the sofa, just about recovering from last night's clubbing binge at
a Studio 54 party held in their honour. Tennant and Lowe have benefited
from being dance savvy.
Embracing the
most radically evolved musical genre of the past two decades as fans, rather
than merely adopting convenient aspects of it, has kept their pop from losing
it's fizz. When the duo seek some kind of context, they look to dance music
before rock or conventional pop acts. 'There are retro aspects to dance
music, though. Big beat, for example. I like *some* big beat,' Neil confesses,
'but there are a lot of old rock reference in it. Ultimately, I'd rather
listen to "Led Zeppelin 4".' He laughs and then adds, with a typically reflective
Pet-Shop-Boys-meet-Alan-Bennett tone: 'Actually, that isn't true'. But if
the likes of the Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim can be held up as little
more than '70s-rock pilferers, what does an act that's been around for two
decades have to do to stay fresh? Doesn't it get more difficult to please
the public? 'No', refutes Tennant, 'Because we write songs. I don't think
anyone else would write "You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk"
and I don't think there's other people doing song-based dance music to the
extend we do'. We're talking in their dressing room. The church-organ drenched
opening chords of 'It's A Sin' vibrate through the floor from the sound-check
downstairs. the night before, it was one of the show's rowdier moments as
the set carried the willing audience on wave after waved of emotional highs
and lows.
'During this
tour so far, we've felt a huge warmth between us and the audience', Tennant
continues. 'I think that's because people empathise with our songs. People
like what the songs reflect not about us but about themselves. We chose
songs which had a theme of overcoming problems, triumphing over pessimism.
And I think the presentation of ourselves always as outsiders strengthens
that feeling. The odd couple. It seems young people these days do old people's
music, like Westlife doing Garth Brooks. And we do young people's music!'
Sooooo, that makes you the old people... 'Well, I suppose I am 45. But that
doesn't mean I want to sound like Garth Brooks! When we started I was 31,
so I've never had the problem of having to get over the fact that I'm not
youthful any more', laughs Tennant. 'It Doesn't mean you can't keep evolving
in your image'. 'It's called ageing', Chris Lowe chips in, unexpectedly.
What, wearing orange wigs and big hairy eyebrows? 'Yeah', he expands, 'Wouldn't
it be nice if instead of a bus pass at 60, you got orange hair and big eyebrows?'.
'Musically,
we live in very, very conservative times', continues Tennant. 'I don't think
there's been a less adventurous time since before The Beatles. Very few
people are prepared to take on visual aesthetics'. 'We had a review in the
NME saying, "Oh, no doubt the show will be fantastic". You know, as if it's
all very well getting Zaha Hadid to design the stage set and Ian McNeill
to design the costumes and Pink Floyd's lighting designer in, to spend a
fortune and lost money touring the world with it, but yeah, that's cheating!'
Wandering across Hadid's slab of raw urban landscape, Tennant draws you
into the Pet Shop world with subtle, elegant style. Unashamedly greying
beneath the comedy wig and eyebrows, Tennant can't help but bring his charming
reserve to even the sweatiest gig. While backing singers perform their slick
routines, he saves himself for the occasional trademark stroll in time to
the music. Somehow it fits the racing programmed beats perfectly. Seeing
this band live is like watching 'It's A Wonderful Life'. You can enjoy it
at face value,
but the more
times you watch it and the older grow, the more poignant it gets. If, like
me, you're such a pathetic sot that you start crying as soon as James Stewart's
brother falls through the frozen lake in the first five minutes of that
Christmas classic, make sure you have the hankies ready for the point in
the Pet Shop show when Tennant duets with old footage of Dusty Springfield
for 'What Have I Done to Deserve This?' 'We chose to do it because of Dusty
dying earlier this year. It was our tribute to her. Our tour manager was
saying, "You've got Dusty out on tour at last!" then we lift everyone up
for the end of the first set by going out into the night "New York City
Boy".' As vibrant as other Pet Shop Boys classics and easily as catchy,
'New York City Boy' (the second single from the new album) surprisingly
failed to be a huge success. 'I don't really know why it wasn't a big hit
in Britain', confesses Neil. 'But it didn't get radio play. I guess they
thought we weren't hip at the moment', he shrugs, unbothered. 'Which maybe
we're not. Dave Morales said we should do a disco anthem, and it was meant
to be fun. We did hear murmurs in England people thought it was too gay
or too camp! It was the first time I've ever felt any tremors of homophobia
around the Pet Shop Boys in Britain. We've always had something of that
here in the States, but here they just think "New York City Boy" is a fun
record! 'In Europe and Japan they don't think about it, they just get the
vibe and think: Wha-hey!' Tennant pauses and makes another dry,
Alan Bennett-style
observation. 'And ultimately it is a "Wha-hey!" record. In some ways, Britain
is more tolerant now and I think because of that, because being gay is totally
accepted now, and because women's rights are in a way accepted, it's seen
as somehow allowable to have a go, to be homophobic or to be sexist'. Tennant
isn't too bothered by the fall-out of laddism; statistics claim attendances
of museums and galleries are up 65 per cent in Britain this decade, while
TV viewing figures are down. Tennant is clearly chuffed. Pet Shop Boys might
enjoy a good collaboration with Kylie Minogue once in a while, but even
when they are working on something frothy and immediate, there is something
sophisticated about it. While most of the pop world is mooching around in
casual gear, the Pet Shop Boys are roaming around their one-off piece of
contemporary architecture on a stage near you this very Monday. Before we
know it, we've drifted into a conversation about interior decoration. 'Stripped
floorboards are just the new orthodoxy', Neil snaps dismissively, 'Oh God,
and stencilling!' they exclaim in unison with an appropriate mix of fear
and horror.
And, with the
realisation that somewhere we have strayed on to subjects better left alone,
we decide we've been talking for long enough. Just one last thing: are they
happy? 'We've done five shows over the years', reflects Tennant. 'And I
think this one is still theatrical whilst also being modern and beautiful
to look at. I like the fact we've got to a point of communication between
us and audience. We couldn't do it ten years ago. So I think the short answer
is... Yes'. After the show that night, a gathering is held for them in the
basement bar at the Chelsea hotel. It's crammed full of New Yorkers who
would queue for hours in the cold on the scent of the town's latest trendy
hang-out. Utterly defeated after two night in New York, I decide to bow
out and head for my hotel. Tennant, on the other hand, is leading a posse
of crew and cast through the squeeze, and looks like the night's only just
begun. I guess if you can live the lyrics of 'New York City Boy' at 45,
who the fuck cares about its chart position?
Many thanks To Kirsty for translation
this section Were very happy for you :) |