BILLY THEN, IDOL NOW

BILLY THEN, ODOL NOW

"I hope if I get it right, it’ll be a great record. If I get it wrong, it’ll be in the trash-bin. I wouldn't be surprised if it bombed!” That was Billy Idol talking earlier this year when he broke off the Whiplash Smile album sessions to do a single interview (which appeared in the August issue of this magazine).

But that story was somewhat premature, as Whiplash—originally scheduled for a July release—didn’t appear until four months later. What to do? (Ignore him?—Ed.)

An overview on the whole Idol phenomenon is perhaps in order I’ve known Billy for 10 years, watching his rise to superstardom. As we shall see he didn’t just spring into the world with a “Rebel Yell” on MTV...

by Kris Needs

“If I tried to live my life by the rock 'n' roll myth, Yd have had to have been dead 10 years ago.”

I first set eyes on Billy’s peroxide spike-top in mid-1976 when he was in Chelsea, an early punk band still going today. Punk rock was exploding all over Britain: the first records were appearing and it was obvious the Sex Pistols had detonated the most exciting thing to happen to rock music in years.

Everyone was picking up instruments and forming bands. Early in ’76, William Broad—former Sussex University student and suburban rock fan—changed his name to Billy Idol and dyed his hair blond. He was among the first of the Pistols’ fans. New name in hand, he joined Gene October’s Chelsea with his friend Tony James, but the pair only lasted a few gigs before splitting to form their own group, Generation X.

Idol and James both shared a dream of what rock ’n’ roll should be about. They found their band’s name on the cover of a paperback in Billy’s mother’s bookcase and recruited drummer John Towe (later to be replaced by Mark Laff) and guitarist Derwood. Generation X played passionate punk with an ear for rousing choruses. Their songs had titles like “Your Generation” and “Youth Youth Youth.” And Idol’s sneer and golden image made him punk’s first pinup.

The group was accessible and rather a contrast to the anarchic speed-thrash or shambolic DIY charge of the other punkers. Generation X became the acceptable face of punk—highly marketable with Bill’s looks—and were quickly snarfed up by Chrysalis Records.

It was around this time that Billy Idol started coming in for the press flak which has dogged him—and pissed him off— his entire career. Idol has always been passionately in love with his music, but also made no bones about the fact that he wanted to Make It. His image and tunes spelled success, but laid him open to boring purists who took printed potshots.

And so Genratiop X unleashed a volley of successful singles—“Your Generation,” “Ready Steady Go,” “Wild Youth,” “King Rocker,” “Valley Of The Dolls” and “Dancin’ With Myself,” to name some. They toured incessantly. I saw them frequently during their four-year lifespan: opening the infamous Roxy Club at the end of ’76, in small Northern clubs and on various teeny-TV slots.

The first time I really spoke to Billy Idol at length was in May, 1977, outside a small bar club in the town of High Wycombe—just outside London. He’d dyed his hair red for the month and bubbled for an hour about his music and belief in punk. Despite some claims to the contrary, Idol’s personality has changed little since then—warm, honest, with a ready grin and a rapid speech pattern fired by his love of the music. His interviews have always been stream-of-energy roller-coasters; you know he means every word he’s saying.

By 1978 Generation X could tour the club circuit and pull good crowds. I went on the road with them and noticed that their image was getting more Rock Star (frilly shirts and velvet coats), the songs were getting more intricate and deep (“Promises Promises”) and Idol’s voice had improved drastically.

Our next interview was in the toilet in a club in Bradford, Yorkshire. Billy perched on the bowl and reflected on the press, the way his music was developing and (once again) his unrelenting belief that rock ’n’ roll was the only vehicle to assert himself. We then went on to get shit-faced on Idol’s then-favorite drink, a lethal concoction called a Jellybean (vodka, gin, pernod, blackcurrant and lemonade). We both managed seven and ended up looking at the underside of a table.

Generation X started to fall apart around the time of the partly-successful Valley Of The Dolls album. He admits the group was then more interested in the studio video games than in recording the album itself. In 1980,1 saw him performing “Dancin’ With Myself” on TV clad in jockstrap, thigh boots and tail-coat. It was to be his last appearance with Gen X.

When Generation X dissolved, Idol couldn’t face the drudgery and uphill climb of putting together a new group in the U.K. He decided to try his luck in America, so he up and left...which incurred a fresh volley of criticism from his home country. Cries of “sell out” were heard in every posey watering hole.

But it turned out to be the best move Billy Idol ever made.

Immediately the rumors started that he’d gone to New York to make porn movies, when actually he was taken under the wing of Bill Aucoin, who’d steered Kiss to stardom. Idol was groomed and readied for the inevitable.

It is fair to say that Idol rose to fame on the basis of the MTV rock video revolution. Hits like “White Wedding” and “Rebel Yell” were ably assisted by the accompanying footage in heavy rotation. He came to the U.S. in 1980—by 1983, he was a megastar.

“I wanted to show people punk rock meant something, and I think it does, really,” said Idol at the time. “They just thought we were all stupid and arseholish. They thought people like me could never sing to anybody...! didn’t think I was a wanker! These sort of things don’t really hurt me. I wouldn’t be in a group if they did, ’cause then I wouldn’t stand on a stage and ponce about, being me...”

Eighteen months ago it was time to record his next album—the first he’d do with the world in waiting. He entered the studio in May of 1985, and wasn’t to put the seal of approval on the new album until over a year later. And, of course, the media had a field day: Idol had AIDS, Idol was on drugs, Idol was dead. Meanwhile, he just kept on working. Splitting up with his girlfriend, Perri Lister, provided much of his inspiration. He was now working with a basic nucleus of guitarist-partner Steve Stevens and producer Keith Forsey. Everyone else, even Aucoin, was gone.

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First taste was the single, “To Be A Lover — a juddering chunk of pure rock ’n’ roll. He found the song on a reggae album by George Faith. It was originally recorded by Booker T. The sound seemed more basic and up—Billy can be seen grinning his way through the video and the sleeve of the record shows only a hint of the sneer.

Then the album, basically in the same mold —instantly recognizable as Idol, but less glossy, more ballsy. In the end, the project took 18 months.

In 1987—March, we’re told—Idol and Stevens will set out on the Whiplash Smile world tour (Billy was recently in London auditioning musicians—no one’s been named yet). His fans will see that he is, in fact, very much alive.

Idol personally scoffs at the death rumors. He denies having AIDS (although cheerfully admits to having had AYDS—‘Another Year of Dodgy Sex”!). “It’s much better for newspapers to say ‘he’s dead’ rather than making an album,” says Idol. And he does admit to having a previous flirtation with drugs, but one that’s over. “If I tried to live my life by the rock ’n’ roll myth I’d have had to have been dead 10 years ago,” he says.

Hit, myth or both, Billy Idol is cracking the whip again and looks set to become bigger than ever. The trash-bin remains unfilled.