17. Fun and Games
Once George’s voice had recovered, the remainder of the tour sizzled to its conclusion to the sound of screaming girls. At the same time, true to their word, Jazz and Simon managed to free us from our contract with Innervision.
As a parting slap in the face, the label released the ghastly Club Fantastic Megamix, a medley of the hits so far, without our consent. We could do nothing to stop it, but they would get no more from Wham!. We signed a new deal with Epic Records in the UK and Columbia in the US. And, looking forward to being more fairly rewarded for our efforts, we began thinking about the new record.
George had the songs to make swift work of the creative process and quickly recorded the first single, making use of studio time originally booked to record the aborted ‘Wham Shake!’ The new song’s lyrical inspiration came from an unlikely source: a note I’d stuck to my parents’ fridge before going to bed. It read, ‘Mum, wake me up up before you go go.’
From little acorns . . .
Quite what, as a twenty-year-old pop star, I needed to get up for remains a mystery. What caused me to double up on ups and gos is easier to guess at. But the note caught George’s eye, triggering thoughts of the effervescent rock’n’roll records of the fifties and sixties. The song that followed captured it all and more. From the jitterbug and finger-snapping that announced its arrival, every part of ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ fizzed with fun and energy. Its infectious melody, relentless bounce and sing-along chorus were irresistible. With ‘Wake Me Up’ under our belts, the new album had its opening track. Next up was the song that ended up closing the album: ‘Careless Whisper’.
After giving up on the Muscle Shoals recording, George booked himself into SARM West Studios in London with an engineer in early 1984. We had lived with that song for three years now and both of us understood how it needed to sound. Now, installed in a studio and free of any outside influence, George got to work on trying to finally capture that. When he finally emerged from SARM with the finished master tape, the new recording of ‘Careless Whisper’ carried all the sparkle of the original and more. Much more. After hiring and firing ten different sax players, George eventually heard what he was looking for from number eleven. At last, the nuanced melody that had lived inside his head for so long found expression from a saxophonist with soul and sensibility as well as virtuosity.
The recording was definitive. One of those rare classics that has been covered by a myriad of artists as diverse as Gloria Gaynor and alternative metal band Seether. George had recorded his first masterpiece and nobody was more pleased about that than I was. ‘Careless Whisper’ was a song we’d written together.
In the wake of his passing it’s been suggested that George gave me a co-writing credit as an act of generosity, the implication being that I couldn’t have helped him with the writing. That misunderstands the nature of our relationship at Wham!’s inception. It goes without saying that when it came to musical talent, George was in a completely different league to me – as he was to most people! But in those early days we bounced ideas off each other without even knowing we were doing it. I was a sounding board and a creative sidekick who shared an instinctive understanding with George. The creation of ‘Careless Whisper’ was inextricably linked to our shared experience. We were so close that it was never much of a surprise to either of us when we arrived at the same idea completely independently of each other. It would have been a whole lot weirder if we hadn’t been so in tune with each other’s thinking. By the time we wrote ‘Careless Whisper’ we communicated almost exclusively through shared jokes, knowing references and comedy quotes. So much so that Simon characterised our relationship in terms of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
But now, as close as our bond remained, the nature of the relationship was changing. I found myself in an unusual position. Our decision to defer to him completely for the songwriting meant I was out on something of a limb. As George began to gather material for our second album, part of me began to rue the fact that I no longer had the same involvement in the creation of the music as I’d once enjoyed. I understood why and I had readily and happily agreed to it, but I missed the fun and bonhomie of thrashing out melodies, lyrics and arrangements with George. The thought of simply being famous for being in Wham! didn’t appeal. Despite what some of the papers were saying – and it was becoming an increasing source of sport for them – I loved making music and performing. With any opportunity for the former now stripped away, it was hard to avoid becoming a target for the press, who poked fun at my lack of involvement in the band. While George threw himself into writing and recording, I became a lightning rod for media interest in Wham!.
With no reason not to I went out more and more and my reputation as a party animal and hellraiser gathered momentum. Along the way, headlines like ‘Randy Andy’ and ‘Animal Andy’ attached themselves to me. Newspaper editors seemed to revel in presenting me as a slightly wayward character, but in reality I was really behaving no differently to how any other 21-year-old might have done in the circumstances. I liked hanging out with friends over a beer or two. And, after breaking up with Shirlie, I was able to play the field without ever really settling into a relationship. Not that there was actually much time to have a serious girlfriend. With Wham! going global that meant promotional appearances, photo shoots and tours around the world. The result was that there were a number of fun, fleeting encounters throughout that period of my life. The acres of newsprint they seemed to generate in their wake usually enjoyed only the loosest relationship with the truth. It was often hilarious, too.
With ‘Wake Me Up’ and ‘Careless Whisper’ in the can it was decided we should record the rest of the album in the South of France at the same studio where Pink Floyd had put the finishing touches to The Wall. Studio Miraval was hidden away within acres of vineyards and so peace and quiet, away from the media spotlight in London, was guaranteed.
From the moment I first joined him in France, I was impressed by George’s optimism about the next record, which we were calling Make It Big. He was in a good place, fully immersed in the studio environment and happy to be in complete control of the creative process.
George was blossoming as a songwriter. And at such a rapid rate too. The leap from ‘Wham Rap!’ to ‘Young Guns’ had seemed dramatic at the time, but by the time George was writing Make it Big, those early hits were already starting to sound dated. ‘Club Tropicana’ had broken the mould at exactly the right moment, though, allowing us to approach the next album with a new creative freedom. We’d been pushing out the boundaries with the first few singles, but now, as far as George was concerned, the shackles were off.
What excited him most was the prospect of exploring themes on Make It Big that would help propel him towards his solo career. While the new songs were immediately catchy and effervescent, the lyrics were becoming more sophisticated and mature. ‘Everything She Wants’ had a seriousness and depth that would have been unimaginable when we worked up those first early Wham! demos. A wry commentary on the challenges of young married life, it was shot through with wit and insight. Over a pumping funk bass line finely turned lines like ‘If my best isn’t good enough, then how can it be good enough for two?’ or ‘And now you tell me that you’re having my baby, I’ll tell you that I’m happy if you want me to’, were evidence that George was now writing for an audience that was older, wiser and more careworn than the Whamania-crazed kids that had fallen for Fantastic.
Whenever he finished a new track it was usually played back at full blast. He was particularly excited about ‘Freedom’ and couldn’t wait to play me the rough mix he’d been working on. Although my own contribution to the creative process was now limited to playing the guitar and providing backing vocals, George still sought my opinion as confirmation of his thoughts and I was only too happy to provide a little input whenever needed. And it was while listening to ‘Freedom’ that I probably first considered George’s lyrics in the context of his sexuality. We’d recorded Fantastic before he confided in me and Shirlie in Ibiza, and so I’d always assumed he was writing about girls from school or the girlfriends he’d had in his late teens. But when the chorus of ‘Freedom’ claimed ‘Girl, all I want right now is you’ and spoke of ‘a prisoner who has his own key’ and a ‘lover with another’ it did make me pause.
Hmm, I wonder what this is about? I thought.
Whoever might have inspired the song, George was keeping their identity shrouded in mystery. What was beyond doubt, though, was the quality of the songs themselves.
And any frustration I felt at being sidelined during the songwriting was balanced by the knowledge that we would soon be going on tour again, playing the songs for hundreds of thousands of fans around the world. I’d come to terms with the division of responsibility, putting aside my personal feelings and accepting my side of the bargain. With Make It Big we were preparing for lift-off. It couldn’t come soon enough for me because the press stories about me were becoming more lurid than ever.
In one memorable ‘exclusive’ that appeared a little later, two Page Three models were photographed standing either side of a cardboard cutout of me. Published alongside it were paragraphs of nonsense and innuendo. Apparently I’d been two-timing both girls. In the scoop that followed I was described as both a ‘super-stud’ and a ‘rotten Romeo’. They described how I was driven back to my flat by one of the girls. While I stroked her knee and kissed her neck she caressed ‘the gearstick . . . of her car’. It was enough to make Jilly Cooper blush. And not a word was true. I’d never met either of them, but we let it go. I understood how the game was supposed to work. Our faces sold newspapers and, in return, that helped sell records and concert tickets.
That didn’t mean that while George was out of the spotlight my efforts to keep the band in the public eye were entirely comfortable, nor were they always completely harmless.
Aged nine, I was swimming widths underwater at Wall Hall College, where my mum was undergoing her teacher training, and slammed into the side of the pool. I clambered out in a daze, trailing blood from a broken nose. The operation to widen the airways damaged by the collision was successful, but only partially so.
‘When you’re twenty-one,’ the doctor explained, ‘your septum can be straightened out. Your breathing will be much better from then on.’ None of us anticipated that, at twenty-one, I would be living through Whamania. I decided to use the time before recording Make It Big to undergo the surgery so that I would have time to recover. If the press thought I was going under the knife for a nose job they’d have a field day. Then Simon thought he’d come up with the perfect smokescreen to explain the surgical dressings criss-crossing my face.
While I recovered in hospital, Nomis leaked a story to the press that I’d been the victim of an unfortunate dance-floor calamity.
I’d been at a party, they suggested, when an over-exuberant David Mortimer, who had now changed his name to David Austin, had picked up an ice bucket and started swinging it round his head in a wild dance.
Crack!
I walked unknowingly into his path. My nose took the full brunt of it and had required immediate corrective surgery.
Poor Andrew!
On paper it had all the hallmarks of a Simon classic: alcohol-fuelled high jinks, slapstick comedy and a little pathos. But neither of us had anticipated that David would end up being the real victim. While I convalesced at home, surrounded by cards, flowers and gifts from family, friends and fans, David had become the fall guy. He was bombarded by angry phone calls and abusive letters accusing him of inflicting grievous bodily harm on me. As the newspapers scented blood, Wham! fans descended on his house threatening revenge. Less than twenty-four hours after the story broke, his mum called me in a fury.
From one of Mum’s scrapbooks.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Andrew,’ she told me. ‘What a disgraceful thing to have done! Did you have any idea how bad this would be for David?’
And of course we didn’t. I’d never felt so chastised in all my life. There really is nothing quite like taking a scolding from a mate’s mum. Her son had been burned and now I was getting singed. In the end I had to come clean about what had really happened: I’d had corrective surgery and David had nothing to do with it. The angry mob camping out on his front lawn soon lost interest.
On this occasion, the furore had been self-inflicted, but it did nothing to ease what had become an increasingly fraught relationship between me and the showbiz press.
‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ was released in May, crashing into the charts at number 4 before hitting the top spot a week later.
Our first number 1!
George and I were thrilled at the thought of making it to that coveted position, driven by airplay on the same radio shows we’d listened to so avidly as kids. We marked the occasion with a party at Jack’s restaurant in Edgware. Even George’s dad now realised we’d done something worth celebrating. With its radio ubiquity and heavy presence in the clubs, ‘Wake Me Up’ had grown our audience beyond the screaming girls who’d rushed us on the Club Fantastic tour and lent weight to George’s loftier ambitions. He’d proved to everybody that he was truly capable of making the Big Hit.
The success of ‘Wake Me Up’ was helped along by an exuberant video filmed at Brixton Academy in South London in front of several thousand screaming fans. While part of the performance was shot while we cavorted around the stage in the bright colours and short shorts we’d pioneered during the Club Fantastic tour, it was our change of wardrobe for which the video is most often remembered. Against an all-white set, the pair of us wore white T-shirts with ‘CHOOSE LIFE’ emblazoned across the front in heavy block lettering. Created by fashion designer Katherine Hamnett at a time of heightened Cold War tension when concerns about possible nuclear apocalypse seemed frighteningly real, the slogan was designed as all-encompassing rallying cry against the world’s ills. The Buddhism-inspired design had originally been spotted by a friend of George’s, who thought it might make for a striking visual image. Political sloganeering certainly wasn’t at the forefront of our minds when we decided on them for the ‘Wake Me Up’ video, but its irresistible incitement to live life to the full made it the perfect choice. It went on to be one of the decade’s defining looks. With ‘Wake Me Up’ providing a soundtrack to summer, it felt as if we were surfing a wave.
Perhaps emboldened by the song’s massive success and the realisation that his ideas now had truly broad appeal, George called his next shot.
Well aware of the huge potential of ‘Careless Whisper’, we’d decided, the previous year, to wait for an opportune moment to release it – one that would give it the best opportunity to shine. With the transatlantic number 1 success of ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’, that moment had arrived.
We both knew the song marked a massive departure from the up-tempo rhythms of everything we’d done before and had agreed, prior to the Club Fantastic Tour, that its release required careful handling. In a way, a moody ballad seemed like a radical move for Wham!. Its grown-up themes made it so very different from the rest of our back catalogue, but it was without doubt our best song so far. Alongside songs like ‘Wake Me Up’ and ‘Club Tropicana’ it stuck out like a sore thumb. It was also a test for us. We wanted to release it on the same day on both sides of the Atlantic. If we were going to be one of the biggest pop bands on the planet, we had to conquer America.
We’d agreed previously that the song would be released as a solo track for George in the UK, but the song was to be billed as ‘Wham! Featuring George Michael’ in the US. The thinking behind the move was that while Wham! was huge at home they weren’t quite there across the pond. If the band was going to lay the foundations for George’s solo career down the line, he needed us to be massive in both territories.
Despite the fact that I’d co-written the song I was quite content with the idea of George releasing it as a solo project: he had taken it to another level in the studio. And we both knew it would open the eyes of a sceptical minority to what might be possible for George beyond Wham!
Had we not built a limited shelf life into the band’s DNA from the outset, I thought that ‘Careless Whisper’ could have been to us what ‘Save A Prayer’ was to Duran Duran or ‘True’ to Spandau Ballet. But I understood George’s ambition to become an artist in his own right. He was always going to have to push forward alone at some point. Until that time came, I wanted to make sure that, in resolutely pursuing our mutually held ambition of helping to realise Wham!’s full potential, I’d done all I could to provide him with the springboard he needed.
I told George that I completely supported the idea of him releasing the song as a solo single.