The first full-length article I contributed to Star Hits was a feature on the group Madness. The piece turned out fine, editorially rendered in the trademarked Smash Hits fashion, but getting there turned out to be no fun at all. This excruciating interview taught me a lesson about journalism if not life itself.
Now We Are Six: England’s magnificent seven, Madness, cope with the loss of founding member Mike Barson. Whither now the nutty boys wonders Mark Coleman.
The musical circus called Madness has always lived up to its name. From the snazzy reggae-flavored ska of “One Step Beyond” (which kicked off their career in England) to humorous pop portraits like “Our House” (which broke them in the States), Madness sound like they’re having a blast and playing music at the same time. These seven young Brits just have a way of drawing in listeners and making them feel like part of the celebration, too.
Better make that six young Brits. Just when Madness’ much-awaited Keep Moving LP hit the streets, keyboardist Mike Barson announced that he was leaving the group he founded. That’s a tough break for any band, but for a group whose friendship was a big part of the sound, it could have been fatal. How will singers Carl Smyth and “Suggs” McPherson, bassist Mark Bedford, guitarist C.J. Foreman, sazist Lee Thompson and drummer Woody Woodgate carry on?
Sire Records resided on 54th Street just off 5th Avenue, spread across several floors of a slim high-rise. It was a far cry indeed from the humble Lower East Side flats where I’d interrogated Sonic Youth and Bush Tetras. Exuding a professional friendliness, which I found neither seductive nor off-putting, the publicist guided me into a plushly carpeted conference room.
Vocalist Carl Smyth and “Suggs” hunched over an upright piano in the corner of the room: toying with the ivories rather than tickling them, I’d say. They immediately admitted to abruptly cancelling the American tour that brought them here — because they couldn’t find a suitable pianist to substitute for the departed Mike Barson. They were quotably honest about their uncertain future, and with my polite probing out of the way, obviously relieved to recount past glories for the duration of the interview.
We chatted for nearly an hour and I quietly decided it had proceeded rather well. “Hey I’m really hitting it off with these guys!” When the publicist re-entered the room, I turned to greet her and the two Madness members drifted back to the piano for more tuneless tinkling. I switched off my tape recorder and prepared to to leave. Before I could say goodbye and thanks, “Suggs” asked the publicist where to find some authentic New York pizza and I piped up: “John’s on Bleecker St is fantastic!”
My suggestion wasn’t acknowledged. Nor was my presence in the room. As though I no longer existed! I tiptoed out, humiliated beyond words. Perhaps I overreacted, but the experience burned a tattoo on my brain: POP STARS ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS.