Boy George - The Unpredictable Karma of the Chameleon
Multifaceted, colourful and scandalous: everyone knows who Boy George is. Very few, however, truly know his long, schizophrenic and anything-but-predictable solo career; a career that, from 1987 to today, has crossed every boundary of convention, giving us a fair share of anecdotes and dramas, but also a few gems unjustly left buried under the dust.
by
Damiano Pandolfini
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Piero Chiambretti: In the 80s, you sold, with your band and then also as a solo artist, 50 million records. And then, little by little, you lost yourself! You went into a tunnel, and now, little by little, you're coming out of it. What happened… what happened?
Boy George: Well, maybe I disappeared from his life, but I've stayed in the lives of plenty of other people… maybe he's a bit old… The fact of not being on TV doesn't mean being in a coma, for all these years I've been doing other things besides television! I've been in prison, I've been arrested… I've had a hell of a lot of fun!
An answer like that should be more than enough to get the picture. Half measures have never been George Alan O’Dowd’s thing — alias Boy George. A life lived against the grain from childhood, when at just 11 years old he managed to talk his father into letting him go to a concert by the alien Ziggy Stardust, and a few years later found himself fronting Culture Club in front of millions of people — and today he clearly hasn't lost the attitude. Love him or hate him (like Marmite, so dear to the British), because across his constant media ups and downs Boy George has racked up criticism, lawsuits, trials and sentences, filling up every available line on his criminal record: by comparison, the Sex Pistols look like choirboys.
What's suffered as a result, of course, is the attention paid to his art. Boy George has always been a substantial pop songwriter, blessed with a sharp ear for melody and a witty pen, with which he writes songs that are touching, sarcastic and biting. But, with the exception of Sold (released all the way back in 1987), his long post-Culture Club career has gone almost entirely under the radar, surfacing, if at all, in underground circles with his more dance and electro-leaning output. It wouldn't be wrong to say that, for many, Boy George the singer is still frozen as the porcelain China girl of "Karma Chameleon". Yet his solo path has been anything but predictable. He might occasionally turn up at some sad nostalgia night, rehashing his old band's hits, but he only does that to cover a bail payment now and then. The truth is that over more than 30 years of activity Boy George has proven himself a tireless, all-round personality. He's made every kind of music imaginable (pop, soul, acid-house, techno, electroclash, glam rock, reggaeton, an acoustic record, blues and more), he's written a hugely successful musical about the new romantic scene he himself frequented back in the day ("Taboo", 2002), he's published a couple of memoirs (irreverent and defamatory, naturally), he runs his own label affiliated with Virgin — More Protein, through which he specializes in launching underground artists (like E-zee Possee of "Everything Starts With An E") — and a fashion house called B-Rude, through which he gives free rein to his cult of image, always a central part of his persona. On top of that, since the late '80s he's also turned into a DJ of real standing, regularly booked for nights in Ibiza or at private clubs (usually alongside his friend and collaborator Marc Vedo). Anyone unfortunate enough to follow him on Twitter knows he'll hound you daily with requests to vote for him in DJ Mag's Top 100.
Of course, his famously rough, blunt tongue has never left him. He's got an ongoing feud with BBC Radio 1 because, in his view, there's an unspoken conspiracy behind the fact that his songs haven't gotten airplay in years ("but if they're waiting for me to write a new 'Karma Chameleon', they can go to hell"). More specifically, though, it was his much-discussed arrest a few years back, and his conviction for falsely imprisoning escort Audun Carlsen, that truly backed him into a corner. He says he took it with philosophy and irony, but these were genuinely dark times, both for him and for an audience that, disgusted, turned its back on him.
It seemed like the spotlight had gone out for good. Instead, Boy George pulled himself back together, lost a ton of weight, even grew a beard, and is making his comeback in 2013 with a new album called This Is What I Do; the attention he's getting could bring him a level of success he hasn't seen in his solo career in over twenty years.
Everyone's entitled to their own opinion of the awkward Boy George. To some he'll remain a kitsch caricature from the plastic archives of the '80s, while for the entire transgender movement and its offshoots (Antony first and foremost) he's always been a source of inspiration; some remember him as the disco Hare Krishna with the eyeliner, others as a refined acoustic songwriter. One thing, though, is certain: whether he's doing good or pulling one of his stunts (if you'll forgive the term), Boy George never hides. Between punches thrown and taken, between nearly three decades of on-and-off drug abuse, depression, or the imposed status of a fallen popstar, his working-class Irish fighting spirit has only grown stronger over time. And today, past the half-century mark, George O'Dowd is England's most exposed, vulnerable and, at the same time, truthful public figure. Just listen to him sing, with that voice turned hoarse, thick and melancholy like a seasoned bluesman, to understand that beneath the makeup lies a bundle of nerves and emotions always just under the skin. So I'll try to give as much space as possible to the music, but in keeping with the rules of the character, we can only begin with a drama.
Sold Out
We'd left him in court, towards the end of 1986, after being arrested for drug possession, with his former band Culture Club in total meltdown and a ban on setting foot in the US. Instead, here's Boy George again, just a few months later, done up and with a bleached mop of hair like a San Francisco clone, candidly swaying to the synthetic reggae beat of an old standard like "Everything I Own". The contract with Virgin is still in force, so, less than a year on, Sold (1987) follows the implosion of Culture Club as if nothing had happened. Solo or not, the bills still need paying.
But with so little time available — and with far more pressing personal matters at hand — the quality of the work once again settles below average. Even with the return to the producer's chair of Steve Levine, the historic producer of early Culture Club, Boy George serves up the same old mix of danceable R&B, reggae, layers of brass, funky guitars (in tribute to his new idol Prince), and a glossy, plasticky late-'80s production where the heavy use of synthesizers flattens any excess of melodic spark. But above all, what really clashes is the singer's own image, which seems to keep playing the innocent, carefree popstar by contract, without expressing a shred of the evident drama unfolding in his personal life.
With the exception of a few bland lyrics championing freedom of expression ("Freedom") or an ironic "leave me alone" ("Next Time"), there's barely a trace of the honest, tragic, foul-mouthed Boy George everyone knows. Songs about love gone wrong ("I Asked For Love", "Just Ain't Enough Love") or on the road to recovery ("We've Got The Right"), weak social protest aimed at the Thatcher government ("Sold"), a bit of late glam ("Little Ghost") or vintage R&B dressed up with a jaunty horn section ("Keep Me In Mind") offer little to nothing. Even the obligatory ballad, "To Be Reborn", is underwhelming — made famous mostly for its video, which would be blatantly copied by Madonna a few years later for "This Used To Be My Playground".
In America Sold would be largely ignored, but the British public took to Boy George's new incarnation enough to send "Everything I Own" to number 1 on the chart, while the other three singles all landed within the top 30. Nothing too spectacular, but still a solid result, because given what had come before — and the far from stellar quality of the album — such success was anything but a sure thing. The record also sold fairly well across Europe, while in Italy it even achieved his biggest ever success, outselling and outpopularizing even the "Colour By Numbers" days! Better late than never, as they say.
B-Boy George and His Crew
Just one year on and things change drastically. Shedding the day-to-day trappings of the famous popstar, Boy George finds comfort back in the familiar underground world he'd come from with Culture Club in the new romantic era. The scene is now completely different from the early-'80s post-punk environment, but for Boy George these are equally intense months, full of heavy psychedelic experimentation, frequent visits to raves, a new and not always stable relationship with Michael Dunne, the forging of great new friendships — like the one with the foul-mouthed Caron Geary aka McKinky, a tiny white girl capable of some of the roughest toasting around — and a creative drive that doesn't always find proper direction. It's during this same period, for instance, that he launches his label More Protein (which still helps him indulge his passion for dance music and promote underground artists today) and also starts up the fashion house B-Rude, which still keeps its shop in the decidedly trendy area of Shoreditch, London.
Musically, too, things change. Immersing himself in London's nightlife, Boy George exposes himself, body and soul, to the various currents animating the thriving dance scene. Hi-NRG and house are blasting out of the speakers, but not only those; over in Chicago, a trio of DJs going by the mysterious name Phuture had gotten their hands on an old Roland TB-303 without really knowing how to use it properly, and in warping its bass function beyond recognition, had unwittingly laid the groundwork for what would become the acid-house phenomenon. "Acid Tracks" (1987), "The Creator" and "We Are Phuture" (both from '88) are still considered to this day the genre's founding tracks.
Mixing these new house trends with the black music phenomenon sweeping across the Atlantic under the name new jack swing, along with the usual vocal soul-pop required by his Virgin contract, gives a rough idea of the hodgepodge that makes up Tense Nervous Headache (1988) and its rather unworthy follow-up Boyfriend (1989). In the minds of some industry figures, Boy George might be turned into a sort of b-boy to be launched as an answer to the likes of Janet Jackson or Bobby Brown. Bobby Z, Prince's former drummer, contributes to the production of Tense Nervous Headache, while among the collaborators are Teddy Riley (a fairly well-known figure on the scene at the time, already working with the aforementioned Bobby Brown) and Mike Pela (Sade). However, partly due to the general confusion reigning in the studio, and partly due to the singer's well-known idiosyncrasies (and his debilitating drug use), the sessions quickly take a zigzagging course.
Finding a common thread among the album's various sounds is impossible, but in certain moments the new look oddly works. Trimming the acoustic sections wherever possible, while paying far more attention to the synthetic side, Tense Nervous Headache sounds shamelessly eighties, and at times feels like two albums in one, yet the reinvented Boy George hits the mark with a couple of excellent songs on both fronts. On one side are the tracks that wink at the trends of the moment, while on the other the songwriter throws himself into a desperate dash toward freedom of expression and confession of his own personal dramas, even at the cost of commercial suicide (which, indeed, duly follows). On the more conventional pop side, "Don't Cry" stands out without question, a splendid old-school soul song that easily ranks among his finest vocal performances ever — a shame, then, that its fortunes as a lead single were nothing short of disastrous. "Something Strange Called Love" and the other single "Whisper" are also pleasant enough listens, even if they've undeniably aged with all the creaks of the period. Pleasant but hardly essential are "Mama Never Knew", the jaunty "I Love You", or the more conventional "I Go Where I Go", while "American Boyz" attempts to echo Bowie's "Young Americans" without quite pulling it off.
When the relief valve is left open, though, the results improve. With "You Are My Heroin" (another title that tragically speaks for itself), a painful confession arrives: across six minutes of powerful, tense and embittered Motown, Boy George opens up for the first time with a voice cracked by emotion, delivering dramatic lyrics steeped in a ruthless yet thoroughly truthful self-destructiveness. Nothing short of disorienting, yet brilliant, is the bizarre ragamuffin experiment "Kipsy" (featuring the charismatic toastin' of his friend McKinky), along with the dark tale of interracial love "Girl With Combination Skin", bolstered by production so tight it could have come from the hand of Trevor Horn. Elsewhere, Boy George bares his claws against Thatcher's Conservative government with the cheeky and hugely entertaining "No Clause 28", written in response to Clause 28, which banned "any promotion of homosexuality by a public official"; the accompanying video/parody says it all.
At Virgin, however, Tense Nervous Headache doesn't go down well. Deliberately under-promoted, and never pressed in America, it is quickly deleted from the catalogue and consigned to oblivion, where it remains, a little unfairly, to this day.
Undeterred, Boy George doubles down, but this time the damage is foretold. Boyfriend (1989) perhaps has the merit (or rather, the recklessness) of diving headlong, without a net, into the world of dance music — confirming itself as a deeply important personal work for an artist who would soon officially reinvent himself as a respected DJ — but on a purely qualitative level, it's rock bottom. After all, rather than a proper album in its own right, the eight tracks of Boyfriend should be seen as an ideal continuation of the previous record, as even the cover photo suggests, being the same image shot from a slightly different angle. Still, few people nowadays have the stomach to face tracks like the plastic new jack swing of "Don't Take My Mind On A Trip", or the various warped house stages of "Lies", "Big Dark Man (Waiting)" or "Girlfriend" (seasoned with a spoken intro that only Divine could pull off better). Incidentally, that's the best Boyfriend has to offer. When Boy George returns to pop songcraft, we get tracks like "I'm Not Sleeping Anymore" (which would look out of place even on Michael Bolton's worst), the belated teenage rage of "You Found Another Guy", or the nihilistic nursery rhyme "Whether They Like It Or Not", which could easily have ended at the two-minute mark, yet instead has its chorus repeated endlessly, stretching it out to five.
Like its predecessor, Boyfriend will be ignored both by the general public and by the record label (which won't even press it in America), and remains out of print and hard to find to this day. If you happen to find an old original copy in your attic, feel free to skip the listen, but don't throw it away, because its collector's value keeps rising. In any case, for the rare few interested in that chaotic late-80s period, it's easier to track down High Hat (1989), a 10-track compilation — half made up of the best moments from Tense Nervous Headache and half from the worst of Boyfriend — which Virgin put together at the time to promote in the US. A small vindication for Boy George: the single "Don't Take My Mind On A Trip" would climb all the way to No. 5 on the Billboard R&B chart.
Jesus, Krishna and all the Saints — global reincarnation on the dancefloor
There's a long tradition of celebrities being reborn through religious conversion, and Boy George is no exception. With the help of Buddhist philosophy (and an obligatory trip to India), the former Culture Club frontman renews his artistic life, and above all manages to put a (temporary) stop to the drug addiction that had so plagued his recent past. Shaved bald, subtly made up, dressed in (almost) neutral colours and straight lines, the new Boy George appears nearly unrecognisable to the public, but undoubtedly more serene and relaxed. To avoid risking further damage to his reputation — which had grown a bit heavy of late amid scandals and flops — the new incarnation takes on a new name too: Jesus Loves You is the satellite group behind which the artist hides to release new material, and the alter ego credited for writing the songs is the enigmatic Angela Dust (a surreal pun on "angel dust", slang for cocaine). The only exception is the US, where Virgin will insist on using the name Boy George.
Of course, satellite project or not, George isn't exactly working alone. Several musicians — friends in life and companions on this new spiritual journey — help him cover the instrumental range needed to support the new songs. Among them, the most important and noteworthy is undoubtedly the unassuming guitarist John Themis, who will remain by his side for years to come and contribute to the composition of many of the finest songs of his career, replacing the backbone once formed by Roy, Jon and Mickey (some, in fact, argue that Themis is the "fifth Culture Club member", since his contribution will also be evident on the band's reunion record "Don't Mind If I Do").
Jesus Loves You release the new songs onto the market in a freer form, and you can immediately sense a new melodic vitality that suits the singer's soul-inflected voice far better, finally abandoning the plasticky r'n'b contrivances of the past. The aching "After The Love" (incidentally co-written by Boy George with his ex-lover Jon Moss) is followed by the now-classic "Generations Of Love", coloured with gypsy guitars, the sensuality of "One On One" and the bizarrely hyper-melodic Hare Krishna nursery rhyme "Bow Down Mister".
The peculiar thing is that The Martyr Mantras (1991) is actually a record made up of remixes of these very songs, plus a few other unreleased tracks. But this time the wheel turns the right way. Cut up, chopped and torn apart, the new tracks are transformed into genuine mantras, while the melodic loops are repeated obsessively in a kind of timeless prayer. Now it's the lyrics that reveal the new direction: themes of love lost and found, social injustice, spiritual searching, drugs and loneliness, romantic sensuality and sexual desire, all find their place in the new compositions, but the music is certainly no less compelling. Dance music is said to age badly compared to other genres, but The Martyr Mantras is far too intelligent a record to fall into that trap, and from its modest corner — in media terms — it captures a snapshot of a rather crucial moment, the turn from the 80s into the 90s. You can sense the esoteric new age of Enigma's "MCDXII a.D" — a true trailblazer of the genre: just listen to the treatment given here to "After The Love (Ten Glorious Years Mix)" or the melancholy tread of "Love's Gonna Let You Down (Popcorn Mix)" — the Bristol sound of Massive Attack (who did in fact lend a hand to an excellent remix of "One On One", unfortunately not included here), the sensual disco-soul à la Lisa Stansfield (on the breezy kitsch of "Siempre Te Amaré"), the peculiar crossroads between pop melody and acid house found in the patchwork of Saint Etienne's "Foxbase Alpha" (Oakenfold's touch on "Generations Of Love" — prominent bass, insistent electric piano, dub inserts and a fierce toastin' from McKinky), and even a faint hint of the smooth "Love Deluxe" by Sade still to come ("I Specialize In Loneliness"). The old "No Clause 28" is completely overhauled by Pascal Gabriel and dressed in a vicious house beat and swarms of robotic voices that only heighten the anger directed at the Iron Lady in question.
Rounding out the record are the warm electro atmospheres of "Too Much Love" and, the icing on the cake, the gleaming disco sheen of "Love Hurts (Lp Mix)", whose rhythm makes it simply impossible not to tap your foot.
Public success, however, falls short of expectations (No. 60 in the UK for the album, No. 30 for the highest-charting single, "Bow Down Mister"), even though the various remixes, "Generations Of Love" above all, will go on to dominate the clubs.
The new record under the Jesus Loves You name was originally meant to be called "Popularity Breeds Contempt", and the first lead-off EP, Sweet Toxic Love, sees the light of day as early as 1992, in two versions each with its own set of remixes. The title track follows in the footsteps of "Bow Down Mister", but with country touches, once again playing with religious themes, and comes with a genuinely striking video. The second track, "Am I Losing Control", is an excellent example of Boy George/Themis songwriting, especially in the Dizzy Tequila Mix (though it will be shown to much greater advantage when revisited in an acoustic version 10 years later), while "Oh Lord" is a kind of techno redemption to be enacted on the dancefloor — Boy George, in a white sari with henna flowers painted on his hands, will grant you absolution. However, the commercial failure of Sweet Toxic Love is too much for Virgin, and the plug is pulled prematurely, sending the whole project crashing down.
Still, the Jesus Loves You and The Martyr Mantras period has its devoted followers. Its reputation has only grown over time, and thanks to a slow but steady word of mouth, it has become one of fans' favourite records, and above all an album recommendable even to those who don't usually have much sympathy for the artist. In the world of dance music, meanwhile, the record has always been regarded as a small gem, and "Generations Of Love" alone has been the subject of more than 15 different remixes. A certain Madonna has repeatedly cited the record as an influence on her music (a claim that can in fact be traced in certain moments of "Erotica") and has admitted to using it as background music for yoga; coming from someone usually so sparing with praise, it's undoubtedly a huge compliment. Even more heartfelt, perhaps, was the tribute from Matteo B Bianchi, who named one of his hilarious novels precisely "Generations Of Love". More a curiosity than anything else, in 2005 Boy George released, under More Protein, an old track titled "Love Your Brother", credited to Jesus Loves You, apparently one of the very few unreleased tracks still locked away in the archives.
1992/1994 The Wild Years
The disappointment of the implosion of "his" Jesus Loves You doesn't stop his love for dance music, however. Still a well-known personality and a flamboyant presence in clubs, Boy George is hired by the organisers of the legendary Fantazia raves to curate the mixtape "The House Collection 2", which goes gold in the UK. From there follows an invitation from Ministry Of Sound, and the first compilation he curates for the famous club promptly sells 100,000 copies (forcing him to keep going all the way to volume five!).
The surprise of the period comes in the shape of the curious remix EP The Devil In Sister George (credited to Boy George & Jesus Loves You), which is now considered a rarity but at the time reached No. 26 in the charts, against everyone's expectations — the artist himself included. The cover, with good old George's face dyed a demonic red and assorted little horns on his forehead, says it all. The five tracks on offer are all remixes of varying quality, ranging from the lighthearted (the then-recent "Love Hurts (Disco Moment Mix)") to the laid-back, joint-in-hand vibe of a Caribbean beach — the old hit "Everything I Own (Redemption Extension Mix)", which incidentally is better than the original — to the robotic — "Generations Of Love (Ramp Club Mix)" — to the brilliant — "Am I Losing Control (Metal Bird Mix)", which sounds like it could have come off Bjork's "Debut" — and, why not, even the pointless Culture Club-era "Miss Me Blind (Return To Gender Mix)", which, all things considered, adds or innovates absolutely nothing.
However, the pop song side of things isn't entirely neglected. Boy George duets with PM Dawn on "More Than Likely" (1993), but the real gem is something else, and it probably doesn't even need much introduction given the success it achieved at the time. We're talking about "The Crying Game" (1992) – an old song originally performed by Dave Barry – re-recorded for the soundtrack of the film of the same name. Maybe it's the soft electronic production of the Pet Shop Boys in a state of grace (a year later they'd release, to great success, the excellent "Very"), or perhaps Boy George's textbook performance – never so elegant and controlled vocally – but the song literally takes flight, both in the public's hearts and on the charts, where it finally cracks the American top 20, something that hadn't happened since '86.
Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am! A Kamikaze-Queer Throwback to the Glam Era
As already mentioned, labels aren't really Boy George's thing. Right when his career as a DJ had taken off, and the success of the electronic pop of "The Crying Game" had won back American audiences too, he decided to pull off the most drastic of proverbial "back to the roots" moves. This wasn't a return to the new wave roots of the early '80s, when he was knocking around the scene with Culture Club, but rather a return to the glam era of the previous decade, and to the exploits of Marc Bolan and his undisputed idol David Bowie. Anachronistic or not, Boy George released Cheapness And Beauty in 1995, and it remains to this day one of his most solid records. It's a lean, electric, nervy and aggressive sound, loaded with acidic guitars, tight rhythms, punk cheekiness and "Jesus Christ Superstar"-style androgyny – a guise that a born showman like Boy George slips into with total ease, delivering some of his finest vocal performances.
The first five tracks make up a thoroughly brazen rock run, highlighted by a successful cover of Bowie/Pop's "Funtime" (the video is great too, recalling certain looks of the future Marilyn Manson), "Genocide Peroxide" for his old friend Marilyn, and "God Don't Hold A Grudge", dedicated to the desperate parents of every gay child. Also riding that acidic groove are the lopsided swagger of "Evil Is So Civilized" (lovingly dedicated to all "queer-killer rednecks") and the lashes of "Sad" and "Blind Man". However, when the waters calm, Boy George pulls out a couple of textbook pop songs, like the sparkling "Cheapness And Beauty", or the chill-inducing symphonic blend of the dreamy "If I Could Fly" (among the best of his career). And how can one not appreciate the sheer brilliance of a lyric like "Same Thing In Reverse"? It's genuinely surprising how little impact such an anthem for the gay community had at the time (only the remix version achieved modest success in the US), because in three and a half minutes it brilliantly manages to pack in all the answers that so many would love to be able to give to hundreds of intrusive questions. Years later, the song would be re-dedicated to Eminem following a couple of homophobic comments from the rapper (and the message to him would eventually be capped off by Neil Tennant, who wrote for him the playful jibe "The Night I Fell In Love", included on "Release").
The album also closes with a small gem: dedicated to a friend on his deathbed, "Il Adore" moves over the faintest dusting of guitar and a symphonic arrangement so carefully calibrated, yet so emphatic, that it brings to mind the orchestrations on Nick Drake's "Five Leaves Left". Among the b-sides, special mention must go to the deliriously fun cover of "These Boots Are Made For Walking".
In retrospect, there are several reasons behind the commercial failure (No. 44 in the UK) and the complete lack of a legacy for Cheapness And Beauty. Virgin did the bare minimum to promote it at the time, infuriating both the fans and Boy George himself, whose contract was subsequently not renewed. Part of the "blame", however, also lies with the record itself, which landed in the hostile climate of the period like a bolt from the blue. The stylistic leap from the dance sound of Jesus Loves You to this record's glam guitar workouts was undeniably jarring, baffling even some of his most devoted fans, but that's not really the point. In 1995, britpop was at its most hysterical peak – with the historic chart battle between Blur and Oasis fought out that August – and if anything, the pinnacle of "glam" was embodied (wonderfully) by Suede frontman Brett Anderson, while the love for grunge certainly hadn't faded with the death of Kurt Cobain – if anything, the legendary "Nevermind" producer Butch Vig had just injected its malaise into that clever pop creature called Garbage. In a climate like that, the forced purging of anything that even remotely recalled the fleeting '80s was fierce like nothing else. And for many, Boy George was still the poster-boy of that era (or, at best, the recovered drug addict reborn as a Hare Krishna over new age rhythms... go figure!), and nobody really wanted to be caught holding one of his records.
It's a shame, but it can always be fixed. After all, with such a lean and essential sound, the energetic Cheapness And Beauty has aged decidedly well compared to plenty of other records more fashionable at the time, and it has the potential to appeal even to those who would never dream of listening to a Boy George record. Give it a chance.
1995 is also the year Boy George published his first irreverent autobiography, "Take It Like A Man", which is highly recommended, if only to pick up some juicy gossip about the heyday of British new wave from a genuine insider of the movement. And speaking of gossip, once again it's his private life that draws attention away from the music. In the biography, but above all in the sharp lyrics of "Unfinished Business" (also one of the finest melodies of his entire career), he openly recounts an old fling between Boy George and Kirk Brandon, who back in the post-punk era was a member of Theatre Of Hate. Brandon – married with children – was not at all pleased by the forced outing, and took him to court (where he would lose the case, though George would still end up footing the bill).
Bandito
Defeated once again by disappointing sales, and now without a record contract, Boy George found himself unable to follow up Cheapness And Beauty (for which he already had the title "Too Spooky" ready) and instead focused his energy on the Culture Club reunion and on writing their first album of new material in 13 years – "Don't Mind If I Do" – which would enjoy decent success in the UK, thanks to the singles "I Just Wanna Be Loved" and "Your Kisses Are Charity". The same period also saw a collaboration with Faithless ("Why Go"), Groove Armada (the gorgeous "Innocence Is Lost"), and a handful of dance tracks very much of their '90s moment, such as "Love Is Leaving" and, above all, "When Will You Learn", which would reach No. 3 on the charts in Italy.
If The Unrecoupable One Man Bandit (Volume 1) (1999) is, by definition, the most obscure record in Boy George's career, the reason is simple: not only did it come out at the same time as the new Culture Club album (inevitably being overshadowed by it), it was also a release made specifically at the request of his most devoted fans, on which Boy George included 10 songs written mainly for the follow-up to Cheapness And Beauty that had been left unreleased or in demo form, but which had been performed live on various occasions, becoming (much to his own surprise) fan favourites. The album was distributed in tiny quantities by the small label Back Door Records, with no commercial ambitions whatsoever. We're all still waiting for the announced Volume 2, but for now there seems to be no sign of it.
So it's not really a proper album as such, but even the "Bandito" has its standout moments. Once again, a jab at the self-righteous comes via the brilliant lyrics of "GI Josephine", which takes aim at President Clinton and the "don't ask don't tell" policy regarding homosexuality in the American military. As if that weren't enough, the track is arranged as a comical country march that only heightens its absurdist edge. By contrast, despite what the title might suggest at first glance, there's no trace of irony in "She Was Never He" – it's a genuine piece of masterful songwriting; over a gypsy-tinged guitar rhythm, Boy George skilfully sketches the portrait of Tasha, a transsexual woman who bravely lives out in the open in a society that isn't always kind to women like her, and who strains to appear proud and hide her loneliness as she walks down Old Kent Road (and anyone who's been there knows it's hardly the most glamorous spot in London). Also lovely is the melody of "In Maya", and the lyrics of "Mr. Strange" are rather amusing, recounting with irony the old diva-style rivalry between Boy George and Steve Strange, leader of Visage. The rest is competent but unremarkable generic pop-rock, with the unfortunate addition of a limp version of "Suffragette City", which really would have been better left alone.
Not essential, The Unrecoupable One Man Bandit (Volume 1) is nonetheless an entertaining collection of curiosities that achieves exactly what it sets out to do: making the fans happy.
The Peak – Taboo
Question: how does Boy George vent his pent-up creativity? Answer: "I write a musical". With a book by Mark Davies Markham, lyrics by Boy George, and music by Boy George, John Themis, Kevan Frost and Richie Stevens, "Taboo" opened in London's West End in 2002, and was a resounding success, running for two years on stage and winning the Theatre World Award. Such was the buzz that, the following year, "Taboo" was adapted for Broadway by an enthusiastic Rosie O'Donnell (where, however, it didn't achieve the same success and closed in under a year). In 2012 the show was successfully revived in Brixton for another 100 performances.
The story revolves around the historic Taboo club, which was created back in the day by the irreverent underground figure Leigh Bowery and, in its brief lifespan (85-87), became the hottest spot in the capital. The storylines of the various characters intertwine against the backdrop of the new romantic scene; some are fictional, others are real people (such as Steve Strange, Marilyn, or Leigh Bowery himself, played by Boy George in person). It's a fun, witty and outrageous piece of work, as you'd expect, and the songs written by Boy George cover the full emotional spectrum - from glam rock to new wave to acoustic ballads. It's also an enjoyable watch on DVD.
The record unanimously most praised by critics - and I'd add, rightly so - is actually a rather peculiar affair. U Can Never B2 Str8 (2002) is a semi-compilation in acoustic form of 16 tracks (plus the ghost track "Out Of Fashion"). Eight of these come from works Boy George had already released in the 90s and from the contemporary musical "Taboo", while the remaining eight are unreleased songs written mainly with Themis at other times. You could almost say the record serves a threefold purpose. First of all, it's a work that sounds stylistically coherent from start to finish, and its flow makes it a fully realized piece in every sense. Secondly, it presents itself as a mini-best-of, since it gathers the "softer", more pop episodes written by Boy George. Finally, the overarching theme of the chosen tracks forms a kind of concept album on the role of the gay artist on the threshold of the new millennium, looking back at the past while questioning the social condition of the present. Some tracks were recorded in a living room, or mixed by Themis and Kevan Frost at home. The delicate blend of acoustic guitar, occasionally seasoned with a string section or sparse piano notes, only serves to highlight Boy George's beautiful singing, his voice having grown mature and rich with the nuances of the seasoned soul singer that he is.
He may not be the Elton John of the golden years, or possess the damned flashes of genius of Marc Almond, but the George/Themis/Frost triad shows off the best of its skilled and sensitive songwriting, capable of drawing splendid portraits of people ("She Was Never He"), recalling the past ("Letter To A School Friend"), playing the caricature ("Ich Bin Kunst"), dedicating love-laden words to ex-boyfriend Michael Dunne ("If I Could Fly", "The Deal" and "Losing Control"), needling a certain "Julian", or winking slyly over a velvety jazz groove ("St Christopher").
There's no shortage of golden moments like "Il Adore", "Unfinished Business" and "Same Thing In Reverse", while "Bow Down Mister" is brought back in to close the circle. The ghost track "Out Of Fashion" - a mournful confession from a fallen popstar, lifted from the musical "Taboo" - was, bizarrely, released as a single in a remix version courtesy of Hi-gate.
There is just the one flaw, the chosen title (objectively, it's atrocious), which probably contributed to the record's misfortune. Released almost reluctantly by Virgin exclusively in England and Japan without the slightest hint of promotion, U Can Never B2 Str8 slipped under the radar at birth and paradoxically remains a cult record, a genuine twist of fate for a work of such quality, released moreover at a time when its author's stock was riding particularly high, thanks to the success of "Taboo". No matter. More than a decade on from its release, Boy George's seventh wonder is still there to be discovered, and it's the ace up his sleeve with which to redeem his not always stellar reputation.
Yum Yum: glitter meatballs in electro sauce (blame Leigh)
Perhaps the collaboration with Sash! on "Run" (a 2002 single) should have been seen as a warning sign, but even to the ears of a fan well used to his sudden shifts, Boy George couldn't really sound more drastic. Disillusioned once again, tired and fed up with everything and everyone, here he is relaunching himself without a safety net into the world of dance music. The main inspiration this time comes from the sheer sense of freedom he felt playing the role of Leigh Bowery in Taboo - a legendary figure on the London underground scene, famous for his performance art, his eccentric outfits and an irreverent attitude (see the excellent posthumous documentary), as well as a friend and confidant of Boy George himself. The new alter ego - The Twin - is a riotous, conspicuously overweight drag queen, made up like a clown with demonic grimaces, who rides the night (and even the day!) terrorising the clubbing crowds of the capital (including the historic - and now sadly defunct - Ghetto in Tottenham Court Road), ready to hurl abuse with a forked tongue, referring to everything in the feminine (as far as the English language allows). The "twin", incidentally, is Boy George's evil side.
Hence the EP The Twin (2003), which Boy George produces with German DJ Kinky Roland. Just mentioning the opening track "Nothing" (with its prominently displayed "fuck you") gives you an idea: Boy George is pissed off, and he certainly has no intention of pretending otherwise. Gone, then, are the acoustic guitars and romantic violins of the previous record; only the clinical textures of a razor-sharp synthesizer can express his new fits of rage and disdain, and so the slippery sound of electroclash is undoubtedly the most fitting genre for the times. Not that it's much of a surprise, after all this is also the period in which, in the UK, Felix Da Housecat, Peaches and the synth turn of Goldfrapp's "Black Cherry" are all making waves, to name but a few, yet none of them seem to possess Boy George's sheer ferocity - indeed, he decides to release The Twin independently through his own label More Protein, so as to retain full creative freedom and avoid any possible censorship (while also being well aware that no one would sign him up with material like this anyway).
The taste offered by the EP is completed the following year with the release of Yum Yum (2004), and it's love at first listen. Musically, the trip is among the most acidic around. House, clouds of reggaeton, disco mutations, dry minimal textures, nervy rock guitar inserts, disparate sampling and apocalyptic atmospheres combine into a genuinely sharp and vicious piece of electroclash. At the controls, Kinky Roland compacts the sound, soaking it in diesel and hurling it at the listener like a flaming Molotov cocktail, and across the record's 13 tracks there isn't a single second of clean air to breathe.
Boy George, for his part, unleashes the most irreverent lyrics he's ever written, with no holds barred. There's sex ("Fire-Desire", so filthy it would make the Chaste Divo blush), repressed rage ("Sanitised"), full-blown homosexual ravings (the opening "Here Come The Girls", "Electro Hetero"), bizarre musings on original sin ("Garden Of Eden"), gratuitous abuse ("Disco Ugly") and one enormous fuck-you to anyone who brings up his (evident) weight problems ("I'm overweight!/ I'm sexually frustrated!", he screams on "Size Queen"). At times, though, Boy George still has the good taste not to entirely abandon melody (a form of which he's a master), hence the possessed, vampiric "After Dark" (a veritable manifesto for the night people), a rediscovered glam rock on "So Much Love", the dancefloor anthem "Who Made You", or the stellar "Never Over U", which wouldn't sound out of place coming from the best of Róisín Murphy (indeed, the former Moloko singer seems to have lifted its synth line wholesale for her "Movie Star").
Yum Yum is a work of genius. In its relentless unfolding, it shocks and fires at everything mercilessly, and while it's not exactly an easy listen, it's yet further proof of its author's versatility - an internationally famous figure who allows himself the freedom to explore the deepest recesses of dance music, laying bare every damned flaw of his tainted homosexual soul. Of course, a record like this can't (and shouldn't!) win over the mainstream, but for the underground world it's love at first listen. After all, the album was pressed in just 1,000 copies, with even fewer promos pressed for the various singles (now highly sought after by fans), and it was only made officially available for digital download two years after its release. One word of warning: approach with caution.
The side effects weren't long in coming. After the release of Yum Yum, unable to draw a line between the "evil twin" and real life, Boy George officially entered the darkest period of his private life, and for over five years there would be very few musical contributions. A covers project in collaboration with T-Total is announced and then shelved as early as 2003. The few tracks that surfaced show mixed results, including an overambitious electroclash version of "Somebody To Love" by Jefferson Airplane, and others still in a guise very different from The Twin project, such as a (decidedly poor) version of "Love Is A Stranger" by Eurythmics, but also a strangely fascinating "River Man" by Nick Drake (which says a lot).
2004/2009: The Very Wild Years
Anyone who still pictures Boy George as a tragic, fallen popstar, a dinosaur past his prime, or an 80s relic, probably got that image from this period; in reality, it's drugs and depression that are the main culprits behind his misfortunes (according to him, though, it's all down to eating too much sugar!). In October 2005 he's arrested in New York, visibly confused and with a flat full of cocaine, after reporting a fake robbery. The sentence - after a year-long saga moving between courtrooms - is a $1,000 fine and a week of community service sweeping the city's streets (later moved indoors due to media harassment that literally prevented him from working). And how does our man take it? "It's just a bit of cleaning… I like being a housewife…". In May 2008, meanwhile, he's found in suspicious circumstances selling his own B-Rude t-shirts at Spitalfields Market for £10 apiece.
More seriously, however, in December of that same year Boy George is sentenced to 15 months in prison for the false imprisonment of Norwegian escort Audun Carlsen, with whom he'd previously had an encounter. The story goes that, in the courtroom, the prosecutor asked him "did you really want to hurt him?". His sentence, to be served at Pentonville prison, begins in January 2009, and is later reduced to just 4 months. Once released, however, Boy George is denied entry as a contestant on Celebrity Big Brother. Fortunately so, I'd add with hindsight, but at the time it's a hard blow - his reputation is so low that Channel 4 doesn't even consider him fit to be a sideshow freak alongside the other contestants on the show.
The musical contributions from this period, obviously, are few but not entirely negligible. In 2005, the 5-track EP Straight is released alongside the autobiography of the same name, and it's a curious, if not essential, piece of work. "Julian" reappears, from the U Can Never B2 Str8 era, while three other tracks are mainly acoustic, steeped in a slow-burning romantic sentiment, such as "Panic" (which sounds like it was written to be sung by Boyzone), the musical-theatre number "Only Child" (whose melody could have been Whitney Houston's in the 80s) and the perky "Cookie Jar".
Decidedly peculiar, on the other hand, is "Song For a Boy", which defies any definition, partly because of the spoken intro lifted from a documentary, partly because of the curious dub groove and the languid sampled strings that frame the voice, now turned mournful (possibly over drugs) – in its own way, a "thoroughbred demo".
Among the collaborations, the most prestigious and beautiful of all is certainly the duet with Antony Hegarty on "You Are My Sister" (included on his album "I Am A Bird Now"), which needs no description and should simply be listened to: the official proof that, despite his troubles, Boy George is a Singer with a capital S.
On the Road to Recovery (Yes, We Can!)
He may have seemed down at his lowest ever, but Boy George was given up for lost too soon. Once again, his iron will manages to get the better of drugs, and to settle his sizeable debts. Over the years, his house in Hampstead had been mortgaged more than once, but it was never actually lost – "I'm glad to see you didn't manage to snort it up your nose," his friend Tracey Emin would later joke. The tributes start rolling in. First, BBC 2 dedicates a retrospective drama about his life to him called "Worried About The Boy" (which is actually pretty poor, but in this case the tribute counts more than the quality). Well-known presenter Vanessa Feltz, meanwhile, follows him for 24 hours for her Channel 5 show "A Day In The Life Of...". Musical contributions aren't long in coming either. Mark Ronson brings him in as a guest on the excellent "Somebody To Love" (included on "Record Collection"), while with Glide & Swerve he sings the autobiographical reggae track "Pentonville Blues", and it's immediately clear how much his voice has changed: husky, warm, sad and full of soul inflections as never before.
Boy George has matured, and he's crossing the bridge.
Ordinary Alien finally sees the light of day in 2010. Once again it's trusty Kinky Roland who gets to work on another 13 tracks – many of them recorded over the course of more than 10 years but left unreleased – crafting long remixes that, on paper, sit within the same electroclash territory as the duo's previous collaboration. In the opening tracks, however, the atmosphere feels completely different: a redeemed Boy George, calm and composed, answers his evil twin of six years earlier with positive messages of peace and love ("Yes We Can", for instance, even samples an Obama speech and closes on ecstatic gospel choirs!), and the moods become at times spacious, airy, dreamy and almost chill-out. That's the case with the telling "Brand New" (which could be sung by Cher), with "Turn 2 Dust" and with the almost devotional march of the single "Amazing Grace", complete with a sing-along chorus.
However, while the painfully autobiographical lyrics of "Don't Wanna See Myself" seem highly revealing of the new George, the melody once again wrestles between a driving riff that feels oddly out of place against a chorus that is far softer and more consoling. It's a telling detail, because this halfway point runs through the rest of the album's new material, and seems almost to show its author still torn between a pained look back at past wounds and a hopeful glance toward a future just glimpsed but not yet confirmed as real. The trouble is that the new incarnation also includes melodically more watered-down episodes, such as "Go Your Own Way", the mea culpa of "If I Were You", "Time Machine", or the overlong techno ride of "Psycology Of a Dreamer". The project ends up feeling even more muddled when Roland goes back to fish out – barely reworking them – two tracks from Yum Yum, namely "After Dark" and "Here Come The Girls", while "Human Racing" at least shows a slightly different electric guitar setup. But even a dense, claustrophobic piece like "Seconds" (with Phillip Something) feels out of place and would have worked better on the previous record – the sampled voices sound lifted straight from Daft Punk!
In a sense, Ordinary Alien is a half-hearted comeback. It's a work that shows plenty of good ideas, but never quite manages to bring them all into coherent focus. It looks back at the past of The Twin, and rightly disowns certain traits that had, all things considered, made it a brilliant record – spite, cheekiness and a cantankerous attitude – but it still doesn't present a wholly new guise capable of fully reflecting the miraculous rebirth that had taken place in its author's life. It could have been a triumphant return then – if only for the media attention built up over the years – and yet the sales and reception of Ordinary Alien are almost nonexistent. Granted, it's true that in 2010 a softened electroclash record is anything but fashionable, but perhaps that's not really the point. The real news is that Boy George survived a genuinely difficult period, and managed to take back control of his career against everyone's expectations, probably even his own. He never lacked talent, and future records would confirm it.
The Rebirth Is Complete: This Is What I Do
First it was his beautiful cover of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey in 2012, and then this year's featuring spot on "Coming Home" by new labelmates Dharma Protocol, that gave the right clue: Boy George has lifted his gaze back to the sky, and he's coming back. He's lost a ton of weight, toned down the excessive make-up and even grown a beard like never before. His voice has become warmer, huskier and more expressive than ever. The former blue-eyed soul singer has turned into a weathered, lived-in bluesman through and through – and his life story bears it out.
The title of the new album, This Is What I Do, is highly telling; Boy George is keen to remind us that he never really disappeared, but kept himself busy with a thousand different projects (which, incidentally, is true). But he'd never made a record quite like this one: it's by far the calmest and most reflective work he's ever recorded, and the lyrics are the true mirror of his new self. Like his fellow countrywoman Sinead O'Connor, Boy George too has gone through his own ongoing crises of faith, and today his Buddhist beliefs seem tinged with a Southern-style Christianity with curious Rastafari overtones, almost as if marking the arrival point of a long, deeply personal journey that began over 20 years ago, when he was a "member" of the disco-Hare Krishna outfit Jesus Loves You.
Musically, the new incarnation dresses itself in blues touches straight from the Delta ("Bigger Than War"), gentle reggae rhythms ("Live Your Life", "Love And Danger") and dub reverbs ("My Star", the strange experiment "Play Me" and "Feel The Vibration", which directly recalls O'Connor's "Throw Down Your Arms"). There's no shortage of gospel touches either ("My God", of course) and a blend of acoustic guitars that evokes the dusty atmospheres of the American tradition, whether sketching out a vague country feel ("It's Easy") or on immaculate ballads such as "Any Road", which sounds like it could be sung by Michael Stipe, and the mournful, beautiful cover of Yoko Ono's "Death Of Samantha".
He then says that the single – "King Of Everything" – isn't actually an autobiographical reflection, but a tribute to a washed-up boxer (as the video also shows), and yet it's honestly impossible not to draw parallels between the song's lyrics and its author's recent life. "That's exactly why I chose it as the first single," Boy George explains, "because I knew people would talk about autobiographical hints, so I decided to get ahead of it straight away, a bit like when Dolly Parton jokes about her boobs." If he says so...
What can I say, mature and composed are two adjectives I never would have dreamed of writing about a Boy George record – given his track record – and yet they're the first that come to mind. Pure simplicity is the strength of This Is What I Do, and even a schizophrenic career like its author's sometimes needs a fixed point to catch its breath. One could also note that, musically speaking, better records have undoubtedly been made in the past, and this new work will most likely not be a smash hit on the level of "Colour By Numbers", but that's not really the point. What's truly wonderful is seeing that Boy George has redeemed himself, and has returned with a mature record performed with real feeling, yet still damned honest as ever. Without a doubt, a fine way to celebrate 31 years of career.
In 2020 it unexpectedly appears online This Is What I Dub, Vol. 1, namely the versions dub by This Is What I Do that Boy George had already been working on back when the latter came out almost seven years earlier. Maybe we shouldn't put too much weight on that "Vol. 1": a second collection might never materialize (also because, in theory, we're still waiting for volume two of the collection of unreleased tracks The Unrecoupable One Man Bandit (Volume 1) from 1998).
Certainly many of the tracks chosen for the rework already showed reggae influences in their original versions, but Boy George puts real effort into re-singing and rearranging them, adding or removing parts, and above all often stepping aside to give the numerous guests free rein to alter the song well beyond the idea of a simple remix. Thanks also to the three unreleased tracks on the tracklist, This Is What I Dub, Vol. 1 has all the stylistic hallmarks of a standalone work.
JC001 turns "Bigger Than War" into a kind of hip-hop with a relaxed gait downtempo, U Brown turns "Nice N Dub" into a fun beach-ready moment, and together with Joe Worriker steers the whole of "Dub Your Life" like a freestyle improvised during a sound system. The duet with Mary Pearce on "Dub N Danger" is thrilling, perhaps the song whose structure remains most faithful to the original form, its spare arrangement highlighting its lovely melodic line.
Boy George's affinity for dancefloor comes back to life in the rhythm of "Vibration Dance Dub", which could have come straight out of a live set by the Soul II Soul, in the drum'n'bass gait of "God Is Dub", and in that sort of dance ride with almost techno-tinged moods on the unreleased "Original Sin". The other two unreleased tracks hold their own too; "Vanity Project" is the song most typical of Boy George's songwriting, built around a bitter and - potentially - self-referential lyric, while on "Things Are Gonna Change" his voice pushes, with seasoned charm, toward Motown soul.
However, the finest moment is saved for the end, where finally – after years of snippets and waiting – we find Yoko Ono's "Death Of Samantha" sung by an intensely compelling Sinead O'Connor, another Irish artist with a turbulent life and a strong affinity for reggae's spirituality, who simply "lives" the song's lyrics as if they were her own.
Perhaps not an essential listen, but one that undoubtedly has a certain charm and shows Boy George's natural affinity for those Caribbean sounds that seeped into the fabric of British culture in the 60s and 70s, when he was still a child. These may not be the spectral, inventive dub versions of Grace Jones's "Hurricane" (only "Meditation Dub" and "Play Me Dub" venture into more experimental electronic territory, full of reverb and silences), but the right balance between melody and atmosphere makes the record worth a mention. Once again, Boy George proves far more creative on his own than when he's back to bickering with the other members of Culture Club – their most recent album together, "Life", quickly fades into obscurity, while this far more low-key This Is What I Dub, Vol. 1 has the potential to intrigue the more demanding listener.
Only time can tell what will happen next in Boy George's crazy career. Perhaps a return to rawer dance music? Or a soul-step record? Anything is possible, after all there's never been a shortage of plot twists. But something different might happen too: in an interview with Classic Pop, our man admitted he's finally managed to understand the difference – and draw a clear line – between Boy George the singer and George O'Dowd the ordinary mortal living day-to-day life. And if that's the case, many of the excesses that marked his past life might disappear, sacrificing the image of the foul-mouthed popstar so dear to a certain segment of the media. Which – incidentally – wouldn't be a bad thing at all, quite the opposite.
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Discography
| BOY GEORGE | ||
| Sold(Virgin, 1987) | ||
| Tense Nervous Headache (Virgin, 1988) | ||
| Boyfriend(Virgin, 1989) | ||
| High Hat(compilation, Virgin, 1989) | ||
| The Devil In Sister George(EP, Virgin, 1994) |  |
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| Cheapness And Beauty(Virgin, 1995) | |
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| The Unrecoupable One Man Bandit (Volume 1)(Back Door, 1999) | ||
| U Can Never B2 Str8(Virgin, 2002) | |
|
| Straight(EP, More Protein, 2005) | ||
| Ordinary Alien (PID, 2010) | ||
| This Is What I Do (Very Me, 2013) | |
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| This Is What I Dub, Vol. 1(remix album, BGP, 2020) | ||
| Cool Karaoke, Vol. 1 (BGP, 2021) | ||
| JESUS LOVES YOU/ BOY GEORGE | ||
| The Martyr Mantras(Virgin, 1991) | |
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| Sweet Toxic Love(EP, Virgin, 1992) | ||
| THE TWIN | ||
| The Twin(EP, More Protein, 2003) | ||
| Yum Yum(More Protein, 2004) | |
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Edoardo M. Cappuccio
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Gabriele Brombin
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