I, also, am who I am because of Wham! Part 1 (of 4)
June 25th 2023: George Michael’s 60th Birthday
This week is more or less one year since I first posted here on Substack. I wanted to mark this with something a little bit different, and also something more personal, a glimpse into my world so to speak.
This Sunday, June 25th 2023, would have been George Michael’s 60th Birthday.
In mid-1982 I met and became a friend of George’s, and we shared a similar circle of friends for perhaps the next three or four years. Then we lost contact.
Sadly George passed prematurely on Christmas Day 2016. The following day, one of the friends from that ’80s circle, Tolley Casparis posted about George and that brief time we shared, on FaceBook.
What follows is Tolley’s post and my response. To be clear these FaceBook posts were, as far as I know, only viewable to friends (in the know). With this and clarity in mind, I will redact some of the names, remove or add some links, and add some explanations [in brackets, in italics].
Tolley’s post
December 26th 2016
Remembering all the happy times we had together.
I am who I am because of Wham! At 18 years old I found myself with Erin and Susan [close friends] on the island of Ibiza staying at Pikes Hotel where the other guests were George & Andrew, the crew filming the video for Club Tropicana, and the ambassador from Singapore to France (another story). If you pause the video at :49 and look to the right of the screen you will see me in a black dress.
On that trip I met Nic Briscoe with whom I fell madly 18yo kind of love with and soon moved to London to be with him leaving behind USC and my dreams of being a lawyer. Nic's band Physique was managed by the lovely Sally-Anne Cooper and included Paul Ridgeley [Andrew Ridgeley’s brother] on drums and Jaime Petrie as vocalist and frontman. London was ours as we held court every Monday night at The Camden Palace with the lovely Rosemary Turner [door-picker at Camden Palace] and Carol Hayes [a close friend, and a very well known London based PR and model-booking agent]. And Sharon [a close friend] was part of the publishing team. I worked at Premiere Models where we represented John Pearson who became a great friend and went on to star in the Freedom 90 video.
But back to the 80's......does everyone remember the party when "Wake me Up...." hit #1? Or the shit I gave the boys for those Choose Life t-shirts? (they really didn't know, they thought they were YOLO [aka carpe diem], but they oh so weren't)? George and Andrew were acquaintances of mine, but they permeated my time in London in a particular way. There were a lot of fun, young bands then and some of them had moments of greatness, but then there was Yog, in the closet to the World, so shy and sweet, wanting to be one of the lads but always standing out, always shining as a true star does. As he matured, so did the music which made us think Choose Monogamy [I think this is a reference to the ‘Explore Monagamy’ t-shirts etc included in Georege Michael’s merchandise, after the 1987 ‘I Want Your Sex’ monogamy remixes — not sure?]? Shaking your ass is a mistake built to last? [References the lyric from Freedom, the actual lyric is: But when you shake your ass, They notice fast, And some mistakes were built to last.]
Tear down your image while you still can and for Christ's sake be real, be who you are and never shrink from that and especially don't accept another definition of who you are and what you stand for.
Thank you to all those who were part of that minute in time. You put the Boom Boom into my heart.
Having read this post above by Tolley, I sat down on Boxing Day 2016 and wrote a response. Here it is below, my FaceBook post.
I’ve updated it slightly, in particular, to make it read more like an article than a personal post. I’ve added a few things here and there, however, it is more or less what I posted on December 27th 2016. It contains one or two anecdotes, some of which may be of interest to those interested in the development of modern recording techniques, and George’s not insignificant contribution to this.
George R.I.P.
From the off, I guess, I should make a few things clear. I'm no big user or fan of FaceBook, so maybe I totally make some FB faux pas here in my choice of usage, and I am purposefully not tagging names.
Well, Tolley's post about George Michael has left me feeling that I want to write more. For sure Tolley evokes perfectly and succinctly how it was. It was a magical time.
My reason for writing? Well someone much wiser than I once said that whenever anyone does or says anything there's always two reasons: the real reason, and then the reason that they tell everyone — kind of the cover story. I'll try not to waste your time and immediately peel back the veneer of any cover story, hopefully revealing the real genuine reason.
It's not so much that the record needs to be set straight, it simply feels that now, today is the best time just to say it like it is, or perhaps more accurately how it was.
There is already a vast amount of information available confirming what a great man George was. I don't think that is in question. Nevertheless, the focus of what I want to share, the purpose let's say, is to highlight that George, and my brief connection to him, quite literally changed and shaped my life, in the most catalytic sense one can imagine. And I can now see with the benefit of hindsight that this is true for so many people whose paths crossed with his.
I don't want to give the impression that somehow George and I were the best of best friends, I knew him briefly, during a period of maybe three or four years, and we were never super close, but we were mates, and it all started on a very level playing field, both of us young, definitely naive and at the beginning of adult lives.
My last contact with George was maybe eight or nine years ago when I was about forty-five or so. And what's key, what struck me so hard, was essentially he was the same person that I had first met back in London when we were both about twenty. He was friendly, open, seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and about ninety percent of our conversation was him asking me about me. For sure he didn't recognise me instantly, it took a few seconds for him to realise who I was, but once that was established there were no formal airs and graces, he was just totally normal and relaxed as if the twenty-year gap between our last meeting had never happened.
The truth was at that time I worked for a charity, and my board of directors and trustees were very keen, let's say even zealous, for me to utilise to their benefit some of my past music industry connections. And to that end, I had the opportunity to just happen to be somewhere where George would be. But when I met him and talked with him I just didn't want to do it. For me, George was a good mate from my twenties, part of a group of people that I had untold adventures with. And actually, that's how I wanted to keep it. Anyone who has spent any time in the music industry will tell you this is true — there is always someone who either wants something from you, to use you as a resource or wants to use you to get to someone else. Manipulation is the name of the game. Probably all par for the course, you'll say, part of being in the public eye. But George had never tried to manipulate me, he'd never been anything apart from friendly and generous, and the main thing I remember about him is him laughing and smiling. I just didn't want to ask him for anything, I was just very happy to see him. And that's the last time I saw him.
Interconnectedness
Tolley's post starts with 'I am who I am because of Wham!' I just want to underscore that this is not an exaggeration or some shallow dramatic comment. And also it quite literally applies to me, and I am certain this applies to many others too.
It's not so much that George had some ability to change peoples' lives, possessing some divine or shamanic powers, that's not where this is heading. He was a normal bloke, a highly gifted, talented normal bloke, but a normal bloke nonetheless. The following true account is more about how a chance meeting can transform and influence one's life and the lives of many others, and how the resulting connections can shape who you become. In this sense, George was truly an influential catalyst in my life, and many around me. I don't think he realised any of this, and I definitely never told him, which is partly why it seems so important to me to at least try to express this in writing now.
When I heard George had passed I felt quite literally winded, and even now two days later most of my thoughts are pervaded by this event. A big question for me is — why, why did I feel this way? Hopefully, you already understood that George was not my close friend, and it's been more than thirty years since we were first mates back in our twenties. For sure, it's sad news, but I'm not known for being overly sentimental — so why then has this news hit me so hard? Part of the answer is obvious. George was only fifty-three, he was young, he was a phenomenal talent, and his music touched so many, undoubtedly his passing is a tragic premature loss. But I'm not even a big George Michael fan! His music is great, don't get me wrong, he's written some of the best pop songs ever, however, I don't think any of them would be on any playlist I would create (apart from maybe 'Faith'). So what was it? What had put me so off-kilter?
And then I received an email notification about Tolley's FaceBook post, and there it was, so clear, so obvious — I, also, am who I am because of Wham!
So many really positive aspects of my life started on the very day that I first met George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley, so many amazing things developed from that day onwards, that when I look back on it all, even with the benefit of hindsight, I quite literally feel joyfully overwhelmed. I think, to cut to the chase, that what I am feeling today is pure gratitude to George and Andrew and all the others in that group of people that I knew back then. It's gratitude that I never really expressed. It's gratitude that I will never be able to express to George, and that's what I want to express now to all those guys — let's say — back in the day. Maybe, somehow, this gratitude is part of grief, not being able to thank those that have passed, maybe, I don't know, this is new territory for me.
For sure, I will not be able to include everyone from back in the day here, but I think the main ones will be covered as this unfolds (or unravels — you decide😜)
And for sure I'll get some of this wrong. My memory is good, but probably I will mix a few things up, so to those who were also there please feel free to correct me.
Maison Rouge Studios, London 1982
I think the best place to start is 1982, in the now legendary Maison Rouge recording studios (seriously, it really is legendary, search it, if you are into recording studios with a pedigree, well you’ll get quite a pleasant surprise), just off the Fulham Broadway — a spit from Chelsea FC's stadium.
This studio had belonged to Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull, who had recently sold it to Nick Richards (I’m not 100% certain about this, maybe Ian Anderson sold it to someone else, then Nick bought it, also could have been Nick’s father who bought it/helped him buy it… it’s a blur). The sale was prompted by the looming digital age, and Maison Rouge's vintage analogue Helios kit seemed scheduled for the boneyard, and huge amounts of money needed would need to be invested in the then, as now, industry-standard Solid State Logic digital mixing consoles… many studios in London were in a panic about this, and many studios changed hands at this time.
In this analogue-to-digital transition period, I arrived at Maison Rouge, twenty years old, a budding sound engineer with already three years of studio experience under my belt at Norman and Barry Sheffield’s legendary Trident Studios (think Bowie’s ‘Ziggy Stardust album in Soho), CBS Whitfield Street studios1 (think Earth, Wind and Fire), and, the then, Island Record’s Basing Street Studios (soon to become Trevor Horn and Jill Sinclair’s SARM West) in Notting Hill (think Bob Marley).
Somewhere I have a list of all the engineers, producers, and bands/recording artists that I was so privileged to be able to work with due to being a permanent fixture that came with booking these studios. It reads like a who’s who of the music industry at that time. I did everything from making the tea, to editing imported Jamaican dub-reggae masters, to recording radio/TV jingles, to assisting on philharmonic orchestra recordings, to recording live gigs, to singing backing vocals, to assisting on entire album projects, to doing guitar sessions (me playing), to recording singles for indie labels, to actually doing major-label album track mixdowns… and of course, it included using as much downtime as possible for my own projects… with or without permission…
I think it's safe to say I was beyond relaxed and self-confident, I literally thought I knew it all, I thought I was indestructible and that anything was possible. Oh, to genuinely feel like that now, just for five minutes, would be bliss!
My boss was Tony Taverner, he’s now a music industry legend (maybe just check this one Sound-on-Sound article to get some ideas of who I am talking about). It's taken almost my whole working life to understand that he was the absolute best boss I've ever had, he was also a great friend. I never told him that back then, due to the arrogance of youth, I thought Tony was just like any other boss...
From day one I was looking for the angle. Deep down I didn't really want to be just an audio engineer, I wanted to produce, and beyond that, I wanted to write songs, I don't think I really ever wanted to be a pop star — and somehow, stupidly, I did not see any incongruity, any of the conflicting imbalance, in all of this — that you could not have that kind of success without the limelight, and if you were not comfortable in the limelight, well maybe another profession would be better... somehow at twenty there was none of this logical rational thinking, I just knew I loved where I was, I loved what I was doing, and the rest would sort itself out, somehow.
My main goal was to somehow get me and my songwriting partner and vocalist, Jaime Petrie, into one of Maison Rouge's two studios, for free, as often as possible, as quickly as possible... so we could work on our tracks, frankly, I wasn't really interested in anything else. I’d been introduced to Jaime maybe six months beforehand by Peter Kent, founder of Manchester indie label ‘Situation Two’ (at that time home to The Associates, and later The Charlatans). Peter heard some of my demos and immediately said he knew I guy I should meet. Jaime was this super talented, super cool, super stylish guy, a great singer, an awesome songwriter, a debonair dude-about-town, a dynamite performer, and driven. Imagine a combination of Mick Jagger, David Bowie, James Stewart, Salvador Dali and Darth Vader, and you're somewhere close.
Today, more than thirty years later, Jaime and I have no contact at all, yet we spent possibly ten years of our lives working together very closely and living in one another’s pockets (which were quite often empty). Maybe I am biased. Maybe I have to say this to maintain some sense of justification for my choices back then, but am totally confused why this man is not a household name. Back then there were bands like Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, and ABC, just to name a few. I met all these guys, saw them up close and personal, and Jaime could have had them all for breakfast without breaking a sweat. He was a better singer. He wrote far better songs. He was a better performer. And he had a real original sense of style. As I said, maybe I am biased. And this is not to say that Jaime has not been successful in music, he has, as a writer. But as I say, it confuses me that he wasn’t up there with the great performers, including George. However, the older I get the less this surprises me. Last year I was in Germany and I did a gig at an event in front of 6,000 people or more. Most of the band I knew well, however, the other singer/guitarist I was working with then had met a lead guitarist from Venezuela, he was available, and he joined us for the show, he rehearsed with us for maybe two or three days. Honestly, in perhaps thirty-five years of working with musicians I never met anyone this talented, it was like being on stage with Hendrix and Gilmour at the same time. I think the point is that for every musician that makes it to the top, there are hundreds if not thousands equally as talented who never quite get there…
I arranged it so that Tony Taverner, who was the chief engineer and the studio manager, could meet Jaime casually in the bar at Maison Rouge. This place was amazing, basically a full-on private bar and restaurant open twenty-four hours a day (if you had access to a key, which I quickly made sure I had), where pretty much anybody who was anybody in the music industry would come to at some stage during the year for some reason or another. If you wanted to get connected, that was the place.
I asked Tony point blank if maybe sometime in the future I could maybe possibly get a little bit of ‘dead time’ (time when the studios were not booked out to clients) so that I could get to know the studio equipment a bit better and also maybe possibly work on some tracks I was working on with Jaime?
Normally studios wouldn't do this, it would be a point-blank no, and if they did do it, well they owned the recordings, but Tony basically just said YES, sure. And that if anything happened commercially with the recordings we could sort it out later. Tony even looked out some decent ‘gashed’ two-inch tape for me to use (a reel of two-inch multi-track tape cost about £60, and lasted about 15 to 20 minutes at 30 inches-per-second, ‘gashed’ tape was significant lengths of tape left-over after, for example, an edit). Super cool, super relaxed, super easy. That's how he was. As I say, the best boss ever. I think that Tony was just genuinely a nice guy and he liked Jaime and I, and wanted to help.
Next, I asked the engineer Dave Bascombe (very soon to be engineering Tears for Fears) if I could sit in and assist him with some super complex editing he was doing, so I could get more hands-on experience on the mixing console. He said yes.
And before you knew it Jaime and I were in the studio, late at night, after hours, at weekends, whenever we could...
Even though we had access to one of the first-ever Linn Drums (a digital drum machine), which was just hanging around in the studio control room, it soon became very apparent we needed a drummer and a bass player
Wham!
And it was in to this setting that Wham! First arrived at Maison Rouge. I'd never heard of them or their label. I'd heard a song of theirs one time, but I hadn't yet put two and two together. The song was called 'Wham Rap!' and I'd heard it in a nightclub... and my flatmate had a 12” copy of it, but that was it. I saw their name in the studio booking diary, and my name was next to the booking as the house engineer. I asked Tony about it and wanted to know if he was sure about putting me in as the engineer, because I was still relatively new to the studio and this was an album booking, six or eight weeks or more, and basically Tony told me not to worry, the producer was Steve Brown, he was an engineer too, Tony would help me set it all up, Steve would do almost all the engineering himself, I'd just have to babysit, and if anything went wrong Tony would be in the office upstairs or on the end of the phone really close. Ok, no problem, we do that then, easy.
So I first met George, Andrew, and Steve Brown a few days later. To be honest, it's a bit of a blur now, because it was actually a whole entourage that came in to begin with, including InnerVision label owner Mark Dean (unbeknownst to him AKA 'Dark Mean', which actually as time would reveal was pretty accurate), Shamsi (Mark's side kick and incompetent bookkeeper with the perfectly suited name), Dave Mortimer, Pepsi and Shirley, Jacky (Steve Brown's then-fiancé/soon-to-be-wife), George's sister (Melanie?), and of course the late-great Steve Brown himself. And last but by no means least, Andrew and George. There were also a lot of pro-session musicians, they were all great players (especially the guitarist and the keyboardists), but the main one I remember was the incredible USA bassist, Deon Estus.
What was clear from the very beginning was George and Andrew knew what they were doing but they didn't know how. Or put another way, they knew what they wanted, didn't quite know how to get it, but knew they would get it. Confident, brash, happy, friendly, loads of banter, lots of laughing, lots of smiles. They did not have a business manager at that time. And during the coming weeks and months, I would personally observe how Andrew reluctantly, yet confidently and competently, took the helm with all of this, leaving George to concentrate on writing and recording. Towards the end of the album recording, a new lawyer (I don’t recall the name) was much more on the scene handling the day-to-day ‘management’ with Andrew. Jazz Summers and Simon Napier-Bell didn’t appear as Wham!’s managers until later, just before or just after the album’s release, and George and Andrew’s skirmish with InnerVision’s Mark Dean over the inadequacies of their recording contract.
Fantastic
Steve Brown was the perfect producer for Wham! As I got to know Steve more over the years, I understood that he could talk the hind leg off a donkey, he was a genuine people-person, he was genuinely kind and generous, he had a joke for every situation, he played and partied as hard as he worked. And he knew EVERYTHING that there was to know about recording, he could get any sound you wanted from a studio, and he was a good songsmith as well. I'd say a genius, but one that acquired his skill not only from raw talent but also through sheer hard work. And it paid off. The album about to be recorded, Fantastic, Wham!’s first, was released in the middle of the following year, 1983, and went almost immediately to number one in the UK Album Charts. It included four top 10 UK Single Chart releases, three of which were produced and recorded by Steve during these Maison Rouge sessions. The album also enjoyed international success, in many territories. Steve’s reputation for having a golden/platinum touch was warranted. Generally, he had an impact, in his own way he left the world a slightly better place.
Anyone who believes the Dire Straits lyric 'money for nothing, and chics for free' is simply deluded. These pro-musicians, these studio professionals, these artists, all worked hard. I liked it. I felt very comfortably uncomfortable, more than a bit out of my depth, however, I liked it a lot.
To be continued (in parts 2,3 & 4)
Please note: I have another infotainment channel on Substack, called Unleashed & Unlimited, where I post podcasts, articles and content unrelated to music.🖋🎥🎙
There seems to be nothing online, no Wikipedia listing, or anything of substance about CBS Whitfield Street and the activity there in the ‘80s. Amazing. Whilst I was there, just for example, there was the Nolans, Julio Iglesias, Earth, Wind & Fire, The Psychedelic Furs, Joe & Co (jingle company extraordinaire)… If anybody knows of a relevant link that I could add, please let me know?