Belinda Carlisle

A couple of years ago, Belinda Carlisle’s life was everything it wasn’t supposed to be. The band she sang for, the GoGo’s, had established themselves as one of the most massively popular all-girl groups ever with Beauty & The Beat and Vacation. They were foisted on the public as fun, bubbly, effervescent California girls singing about inconsequential—yet happy—things.

Meanwhile, Belinda Carlisle was becoming an alcoholic. Her friend and fellow band member, Charlotte Caffey, was having drug problems of her own. Their third album, Talk Show, flopped. Guitarist Jane Wiedlin left the band. Belinda and Charlotte decided to clean up and then leave the band themselves. Their last performance with the Go-Go’s was in January, 1985, in Rio, in front of 350,000 people. The next time Belinda and Charlotte took the stage, it was in front of about 400.

“The band was rapidly deteriorating after Jane left,” says Belinda, sitting on the edge of her bed in a small hotel room. She’s slimmed down quite a bit since her Go-Go days; no longer does she look like a prospective Campbell Soup girl. But she seems as Californian as ever: tanned, wearing white pants and a white T-shirt, pronouncing “really” as “rilly.”

“Charlotte and I both had the same sort of feelings about going to rehearsal and the songs that were written—written, you know, for the fourth Go-Go’s album. We talked to each other one night—it was after a really unpleasant rehearsal—and we just decided .this is it Why bother if it’s not fun anymore?”

Two Go-Go’s—Kathy Valentine and Gina Schock—wanted things to go on. I had heard that Carlisle and Caffey had made their manager tell them the news; both deny it.

“We just called a meeting and told them, that’s all,” says Belinda.

“We sat there and explained,” adds Charlotte. “But see, it’s really strange because no one was getting along. It was obvious to everyone—everyone surrounding us and ourselves—and Gina and Kathy, I don’t know—”

“They seemed a bit surprised,” Belinda interrupts. Well, perhaps they weren’t quite as miserable as Caffey and Carlisle.

“I think that they really thought probably—” which must be quite a trick, when you get right down to it—“that the Go-Go’s still had some life in them,” Belinda offers. “Which is fine, but that’s not the way we felt.” And so, the split was an unpleasant one. At the time, Valentine and Schock vowed to deliver a fourth GoGo’s album to I.R.S., but it never materialized. “I think it’s a bit too late now,” Carlisle says dryly. One tends to agree.

For Belinda and Charlotte, in any case, things have moved on. Charlotte helped out on Carlisle’s first solo album, Belinda, and is also playing guitar on Carlisle’s tour. Belinda is a collection of love songs written by people like Caffey, Tim Finn of Split Enz, Susanna Hoffs of the Bangles, Paula Brown (Go-Go for a couple minutes) and others. The cover shows Carlisle in an obvious Ann Margret pose, which is good because it’s supposed to be an obvious Ann Margret pose.

“I don’t really want to sing about cars, getting laid and all that crap. ”

“Of all the people in the world”—and there are many, I might add—“I admire her the most,” says Belinda. “And I sort of feel like her a lot. I just thought, well, if she was in the ’80s, what would she do on her album cover?” Wait a minute, Ann Margret is in the ’80s, right? I mean, no one kicked her out or anything. Well...

Belinda says that “some of the album is a little bit derivative of the Go-Go’s, but it’s mostly more progressive...and a bit more mature.” As far as the observation that it is a collection of love songs, she says this: “We didn’t really think about it; the songs that came up just happened to be on that topic. I don’t really want to sing about cars, you know, getting laid and all that kind of crap.” OK by me.

In the studio, Carlisle was helped out by some big names: Susanna Hoffs sang back-ups on three or four songs, Jane Wiedlin pitched in, Lindsay Buckingham co-wrote a song and even Andy Taylor— yes, the Andy Taylor—played guitar, as he’s done to amass a considerable fortune in Duran Duran. Such a pal is he that he even joined the gals in L.A., at the Roxy, when they were kicking off their tour. Caffey and Carlisle fairly gush over, not his looks, of course, but his talent.

“He’s so talented,” says Charlotte. “I mean, he’s done so many good—”

Belinda interrupts. (They do this to each other a lot.) “I personally love the stuff he’s written and I love the way he plays.”

“Yet many would perceive him as a twink,” I offer.

“He’s actually the guy behind Duran Duran, I think,” ventures Belinda, rather boldly.

“And Power Station,” Charlotte adds quickly.

“And Power Station,” Belinda affirms, in case I have trouble hearing. “He’s the talented guy.” Then—perhaps realizing she might’ve spoken too quickly, she adds: “Well, they’re all talented, but I think that he’s real special.” Of course they are and of course he is. When I was growing up in Detroit, we had a different name for special boys like him, but that’s another story.

If Belinda’s paid a price for her success—and I think she has—it certainly doesn’t show in cynicism. For example, I asked her why she felt bad at the end of the Go-Go’s tenure, and she said this: “I missed being new, I missed not experimenting and just—I don’t knowwatching MTV and seeing a new artist, I’d get really jealous because they looked like they were having fun and they looked like they were still fresh and spontaneous.” To term that feeling unbelievably naive—especially after having been through the Go-Go’s experience—seems practically charitable. In fact, her naivete is sort of charming. Michael Lloyd, who produced her album, has also produced Sean Cassidy, the Osmonds and the incomparable Pink Lady. Imagine what one could do with that, were one so inclined. But when Belinda says, “He’s just great, he’s such a wonderful person, he’s so great,” one is tempted to believe the fellow’s pretty much been summed up. That Michael Lloyd was also an actual member of the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band should be added, though, for historical reasons if nothing else.

Belinda’s naivete extends even into politics. In April, she married Morgan Mason, the son of actor James Mason. (He can be seen in the video for “Mad About You.”) I’d read Mason described as a “noted legal advisor to many top politicians.” Being a little green myself, I asked Belinda what that phrase meant.

“He was the youngest chief of protocol in the White House,” she replied. “He was President Reagan’s special assistant.” Well, great. She explained that her husband has since moved into the private sector, before offering me the noose: “The view I have is that we only have one president for the moment and I think that every American should be behind him.” Not too long ago, Dave Marsh slammed Paul Westerberg of the Replacements for simply saying that Reagan “looked good.” What he could do with Belinda’s cliched statement is mind-boggling. But, as Belinda says, “To tell you the truth, politics really bore me.” I guess Marsh could do a lot with that one, too.

Belinda, though, is into being the best entertainer she can be. After leaving the Go-Go’s she saw a vocal coach three times a week, and admits “there’s still a lot of improving to go.” She realizes that it’ll be awhile before she’s in front of 350,000 people again: “We know we’re starting over and I’m really going to enjoy this—the space of being able to experiment onstage and find myself as an individual performer without having the pressure on as a headlining act.” But onstage, playing her new stuff, she’s animated—by the way, the album sounds way punchier live—and, above all, happy. My God, this girl likes to smile.

Charlotte: “I think that we’ve learned a lot from the past eight years and that, if we’re smart, we’ll remember the things we’ve learned and use those experiences. I think that we’re in a healthier frame of mind now. But you can’t have giant expectations of selling millions and millions—just kind of take each step—”

“One day at a time!” Belinda finishes for her.

Well, maybe she has reason to smile. Rilly.