THOMPSON TWINS

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, with the sun shining through the burnt sienna gauze of air on Manhattan's 57th Street. I was wearing my powder blue suit, with black shirt, tie and display handkerchief. black brogues, "navy” cotton socks with emerald tumbling dice on them. I was everything the welldressed CREEM reporter ought to be. I was calling on the Thompson Twins.

The Dauph’s file on the Thompson Twins was extensive, most of it provided by their record company, in whose offices the interview encounter would take place. Traveling upward in the compact elevator to the sixth floor headquarters of Arista, I flicked idly through the dossier. Some 8x10 black and white snapshots that would be useful in positively identifying the subjects. The expected assortment of press puffery—harmless background info, mostly, yet hidden among the biographical material, some intriguing references to replicants, plus an account of a violent incident between Alannah Currie and Lou Reed in New Zealand Hmmmmm. Rounding out the file, of course, were some Thompson Twins records, which could be used as evidence against them.

“We were like the young, foreign upstarts amongst those legendary names.”

—Alannah Currie

By now, everyone knows—unless they’ve spent the last two years living in a meat locker—that the Thompson Twins are not, in fact, twins or even Thompsons, having lifted their group name from a French comic strip. Once the inevitable confusion of this whole matter had subsided—presumably Tom Bailey no longer gets phone messages for Mr. Thompson—the trio blithely went on to fusillade the American pop charts with a barrage of hits from the dreaded dance music arsenal, culminating in “Hold Me Now,” a song so disturbingly pervasive that Ed Meese probably sings it to Mrs. Meese when they share a romantic moment alone, while the little Meeses are downstairs in the family room watching the corresponding video on MTV for the seven-thousandth time. Money bet “Hold Me Now” eventually winds up as the theme for Stay Free Maxi Pads. And why not? That’s the American Way, bub, and don’t you forget it.

The Dauph prowled along the cheery halls of Arista toward the interview lounge where the unsuspecting Thompson Twins were waiting.

First impressions can be misleading. Sure, boyo. But in this racket of private

eye journalism, you go by the book. And the book says that a rock hired guneven a battle-scarred “Frenchie” like myself—isn’t worth a pair of chewed-up Twisted Sister backstage passes if he don’t make note of initial observations. “Getting the artist in your crosshairs” is what we call it in pop music gumshoe parlance.

Alannah Currie. The band’s lyricist. Writes their videos too. Outgoing. Prettier in person. Self-proclaimed “Hostess With The Mostess” and it shows. Easily the most relaxed of the trio. In fact, when The Dauph strolled into the lounge, she was sprawled out face-down on the couch. “Don’t get up, Alannah.” She didn’t.

Joe Leeway. Half Nigerian. Half Irish. Used to be a roadie for the band, then joined on congas. Self-absorbed, aloof, shy or just disinterested? Take your pick. Introduced to The Dauph, he shook hands but barely looked up. Seemed more interested in working on a pen and ink sketch of someone’s face, which he concentrated on for most of the interview. Good artist, though, and he did perk up

when the conversation got around to androids.

Tom Bailey. Affable. Confident. Charming in a kind of gently argumentative way. Classically trained. Comfortable in his child prodigy role even though he’s pushing 30. Serious. Amusing. Kicks ideas around in a sort of oblique way to see where the hell they might lead. Think of the guy who ran for Student Government in high school, won by a landslide, then turned down the job. He showed up for the interview late and didn’t apologize, so The Dauph liked him right away.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 44

By the time you read this, the Live Aid concert viewed by a billion-and-a-half people ’round the world will be just a foggy memory or a seldom-watched videotape but on that mungy afternoon when The Dauph ventured into the lair of the Thompson Twins it loomed large in our collective consciousness (as we almost never say in rock detective jargon) due to the Thompson Twins’ participation in the JFK Stadium, Philadelphia portion, doing a sound-ravaged two numbers: “Hold Me Now” (hope the Meeses were watching) and an updated cover of the Beatles’ “Revolution.” As regards the choice of material, draw your own conclusions, but the band was adamant when it came to describing the sensation of performing sans soundcheck and adequate monitors before 90,000 sweaty fans. They considered it a public spectacle—as in Roman Coliseum. Alannah: Yeah, we were the Christians and they were the lions. But that’s very much an element—that’s why concerts live on. Dauph: Was that the biggest crowd you ever played to?

Alannah: We played to 80,000 once on a show with the Police—but that was different.

Tom: We’d never played to Russia and China at the same time.

Alannah: It was brilliant. My mother was in New Zealand. My sister was in Australia. And there were friends in England, in Japan and here. Everybody was on the telephone asking what time we were going on. I knew as we were playing that all those people all ’round the world were watching.

Tom: Did you notice that most of the American performers, apart from Madonna and the Hooters, were over 40? Which I think should be taken note of in the American music world. We were like the young, foreign upstarts amongst those legendary names. It felt a bit like that, but it didn’t hurt at all. And I certainly thought when we were doing “Revolution” that we were rocking the stage as much as anyone else was.

Alannah: We recorded that song on our new album. It’s the first cover version we’ve ever done. We did it in Paris. And when it came time to do it, it just felt right. Because Lennon was always bleating on about how you could stop things if you get together. You could spend a year talking about a problem, or spend a year doing something about it...

Joe: Or spend two weeks in bed.

(General laughter.)

Tom: The thing that was really personal throughout the weekend was that there was no major government involvement—just like there hasn’t been in the whole Ethiopian problem, anyway. It’s a personal movement of the people, using, if you like, people like us to provide a context to get money. Which is fine. I see it as no coincidence that Reagan chose that day to have his operation.

Dauph: In England, at least you had Princess Di and Prince Charles at the concert.

Tom: (laughs) That’s only because they’re fans of Status Quo.

Dauph: Reagan didn’t even send a pre-taped message.

Tom: No. And I’m pleased he said nothing. I’m pleased that there’s no involvement. I hope it’s really embarrassing to the government to be shown such a grand gesture, to know that people could do it without their help. You don’t have to wait for another five years and vote before someone’s life can be saved. You can go ahead and do it right now.

Dauph: The Thompson Twins are sometimes mentioned as a band that has benefitted greatly from MTV exposure. Does it help that you can control your own image that way?

Tom: Well, it cuts both ways, because people become saturated with one particular image and then everybody changes. You walk down the street and people say your hair’s longer, and you realize they’ve been seeing this video from six months ago—every day for six months.

Dauph: In previous times, little children—say, in the three to five age bracket—watched cartoons on television. Now they seem fascinated by MTV. Do you think that you’ve replaced cartoon characters in their minds, that you’re kind of living cartoon heroes for them?

Alannah: They may like us because we’re extravagant and odd. I mean you watch the rest of television here—or in any country—and the basic sort of people that appear are actually quite normal. (laughs) Though, of course, to me, they’re all extremely weird. And then you have these eccentric pop groups and kids are really attracted to that sort of thing in the same way they’re attracted to cartoons, because cartoons are outrageous. It’s like the way kids love fairy tales, all the costumes and everything. I think that’s just a thing that children have— that they love things that are odd and different. They can emulate it or just see it as another part of life.

Dauph: I understand you had a brief career in New Zealand as a rock reporter. Is it true that in 1975 Lou Reed threw your tape recorder across a hotel lobby in Wellington? Alannah: Yeah. Completely true.

Dauph: Good. ’Cause I have Lou outside in the hall.

Alannah: (laughs) Well, since then, I’ve actually met him. I met him in London.

Dauph: Did he remember?

Alannah: No, he didn’t remember. But he apologized profusely. He’s a changed man, I think, from what he was then.

Dauph: And if you were still a rock journalist, what would you ask the Thompson Twins? Alannah: Are we trash?

Dauph: Any parting words for the CREEM readers?

Tom: Yeah, we’ll certainly see them on tour—if they’re that hip. And there are going to be two mind-bending technological surprises. (His voice grows hushed.) One of our band members is not human.

Dauph: Is it one of you three here? Alannah: (laughs) You can find out by ripping off the flesh.

Dauph: I heard somewhere that Joe is a fan of the movie Blade Runner.

Tom: Draw your own conclusions. You’re on the right track.

Dauph: So a replicant is among us, eh? Tom: That’s right. Can you spot the replicant?

It was shortly after five o’clock when I came out of the Arista building onto 57th Street. It was still boiling hot. Exhaust fumes and the smell of summer tourists hung in the air like wash on a clothesline. I stuck a cigarette in my mouth but didn’t light it. I walked briskly up toward the park. There was an outdoor phone booth near the Sherry Netherlands where I could report in to my client, Mr. DiMartino. He was an OK guy and he was paying me $25 a day plus expenses. I thought about the interview that had just ended. I wondered if the Thompson Twins were really what they seemed. Then I wondered what they seemed. I was tossing those thoughts around in my noggin when I nearly got hit by a Fifth Avenue bus. I hoisted myself up off the pavement and decided to think about something else. Sometimes when you’re a private dick in the reckless world of rock ’n’ roll, it don’t pay to ask too many questions. @