“Artistic differences” have killed many a band, but financial wrangles have generally buried them. Once you’ve taken each other to court, you’ve pretty much danced on the grave of your last performance together, right?
The newly announced reunion of Spandau Ballet suggests otherwise.
With a burst of bitterness not seen since Johnny Marr and Stephen Patrick Morrissey severed their alliance, four members of the original line up found themselves facing off in court. Singer Tony Hadley, drummer John Keble and saxophonist Steve Norman claimed guitarist and songwriter Gary Kemp owed them a small percentage of royalties as per a verbal agreement.
Bassist Martin Kemp stayed out of the conflict, either because Gary is his brother or because he had better things to do like being in EastEnders and recovering from a brain tumour.
The judge found in favour of Gary and, really, after that you can’t imagine the phoenix of the band rising from the ashes. And yet…
I was very young when I first became a Spandau Ballet fan. My older sister was in primary school when To Cut a Long Story Short (now, bewilderingly used as the accompaniment for financial news on a Greek news station – true story) was released. By the time my toddler self had fallen in love with Gold, they had already firmly established themselves as the kings of New Romanticism.
I went on to be a firm fan; I remember seeing them play the then Docklands Arena as a child and gaining a sympathetic look from Martin Kemp when my dad sang along to Communication. This didn’t really come to an end until the final demise, following Be Free With Your Love, in the 1989.
Around that time I discovered – again courtesy of my sister – The Wonder Stuff, Kingmaker and The Levellers and spent a few years wondering if it was possible to be an indie kid and still take regular showers. But I never lost my fondness for the kings of big girls blouses; it took several years before I could admit to actually liking any of the records put out by archrivals Duran Duran, who somehow achieved much longer-lasting and more international success. At the height of their popularity, this was tantamount to fighting on both sides of a civil war.
To this day, Through the Barricades is one of my favourite songs. I find Fight for Ourselves to be excellent gym music. In fact, pretty much the only song from the North London quintet I’m not still extremely fond of us True, mainly because I never really liked it in the first place. Yes, even when it was sampled by PM Dawn.
So, as you might imagine, the return of the Spands fills me with a certain amount of glee. And, of course, trepidation.
I worry that this return will bring with it the same burst of disappointment that comes with watching DVDs of your favourite childhood TV shows. Okay, there’s a difference – those things were made for kids, and you’ve grown up whereas the music was made for adults – but there’s still an awful lot of expectation there. I’m willing to admit that Raw was not an experiment I’d like to see repeated. Alright, there were two tracks I haven’t missed. And it’s impossible not to be cynical about the reasons for burying the hatchet anywhere other than each other’s skulls, especially after Hadley’s short-lived career resurgence and the fact that the last time anyone saw Gary Kemp in the public eye he was busy divorcing Sadie Frost.
I am intrigued by the suggestion that this is going to lead to an evolution of the band. Hey, it worked for Simon Le Bon and company – Ordinary World and Come Undone caused a gentle murmur of surprise when they managed to channel pop cheesiness into an appropriate format for the 90s. Spandau has always had a slightly offbeat element – think Instinction - which could make for some great pop.
So, I’ll give them my cautious benefit of the doubt. I’ll put my nostalgic heart out there, and hope that it isn’t pummelled. “The boys,” says Hadley, “are back in town.” I’ll line the route and wave the flag – for now.