MADAME CURRIE OF THE THOMPSON TWINS

MADAME CURRIE OF THE THOMPSON TWINS

Joanne Carnegie

Within the last year, Alannah Currie of the Thompson Twins has been through a lot, but she’s come through it all a winner with her hopes set high. The past year, she lost a baby when she was 6 months pregnant, her mother died shortly afterward, and meanwhile, Joe Leeway decided to leave the group. Previous albums for the Thompson Twins have been major worldwide hits, while sales of the new Close To The Bone LP—mostly a personal album of the past year’s ups and downs—have been somewhat of a disappointment. All this—and Alannah still keeps it all in perspective and forges ahead.

Alannah, a native of New Zealand, wanted out of the small country ever since she was very young. She made her way to London via Australia and Singapore, began “squatting” (setting up house in abandoned buildings), and eventually met Tom Bailey and Joe Leeway, who shared squatter’s rights on the same block. She is a staunch feminist and has strong opinions about being a woman in the rock ’n’ roll business. Tom Bailey, her lover and partner in the group, is soft-spoken and seems less opinionated than Alannah. It’s no surprise then, that Alannah writes the Thompson Twins’ lyrics, while Tom takes care of the music. In the middle of their current U.S. tour, Alannah sipped coffee and smoked a lot of cigarettes in a hotel restaurant while discussing her role in the music business.

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How do you like being a woman in rock?

Well, that’s kind of difficult to answer, seeing as I don’t know what it’s like being a man in rock! (Laughs)

Were you interested in music as a child?

I wasn’t particularly interested in music other than pop stuff. I was really into the Jackson 5—for some reason, all black artists. When I was young, my brother, who I adored, played bongos and because I loved him so much I wanted to be like him so I’d wear matching shirts and I’d sit on his motorbike when he wasn’t there. I used to steal his bongos and play them in the garden until he found me one day and then I sort of got into drums. See, I was brought up—I’m almost 30 now— and when I was say, 10, 11, 12, young girls just didn’t get involved in that. You would’ve been laughed at if you said you wanted to be a drummer or a musician in a band. I also came from a poor family as well, and you got a job when you left school and you earned your living. You didn’t mess around being arty-farty or anything.

When did you know that you wanted to get out of New Zealand?

When I was five years old I saw a picture of the gardens of Babylon in an encyclopedia and I remember finding out it was in Egypt. I realized there was a whole other world out there and I lived on this tiny island so I wanted to go and that was my whole ambition in life: to leave New Zealand. As I was growing up, people would ask what I wanted to do for a career and I’d say, “Leave New Zealand.” They’d look at me in horror and I did it as soon as I turned 17.1 went to Australia for a year, then to Singapore for a while—making my way to London.

Was all this traveling for a career in music?

No, it was mostly for adventure. Looking for trouble. I was never sure of what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a writer, so I started being a journalist, thinking that was a way to write. But, that was completely unsatisfying—I wanted to write poetry. But, when I was in Australia, where I really wanted to be was in London. At that time punk had started to happen and I arrived in England in ’77 when punk was basically in full bloom.

Were you alone?

Yes. I didn’t know one person in London, but I went anyway and lived in poverty stricken conditions. I used to go to gigs all the time. I would earn money so I could go to gigs from Thursday night through Monday night. And what got me into playing music was the whole punk thing, where I would see all these bands onstage and think, “I could do that. I could do better than that.” It wasn’t until I saw women playing that I thought I could do it, too. And so I bought myself a saxophone and that was the beginning of the end. (Laughs)

That’s when you started your own band?

A friend of mine, Tracy, and I started our own band called the Unf—ables, which was really more than just a band; it was also an attitude and a lifestyle. We also used to do a lot of graffiti writing with spray cans and we’d fill eggs with black paint and hurl them at posters and we had a glorious time, it was wonderful. Tracy and I were the core of the band and then we’d incorporate other women that were living around us.

How old were you at this point?

Eighteen. Maybe 19. I just went for it! When did the Thompson Twins come about?

I started playing saxophone with the Thompson Twins because I lived opposite on their street. On occasion I would play, only for a laugh you know, because I didn’t take them very seriously. Being in the Unf—ables was far more important in the state of affairs, I thought. I didn’t really talk to Tom and Joe for a long time because I thought they were kind of wimpy at the time. They just didn’t have the attitude; I mean I was living on baked beans and I was really heavily into punk—the Sex Pistols, the Damned, all sorts of stuff. The Thompson Twins were too poppy sweet, you see—not odd enough. And then we just became friends and they asked me to play. Then the band got bigger and then I started playing percussion.

How is it different now in the ’80s as opposed to these experiences from the ’70s?

What angers me a lot is this whole attitude that people have about rock ’n’ roll and music, how liberal it is and how revolutionary it is, which is a lot of rubbish. It’s like a boy scouts club and if you’re a woman it’s really hard to be accepted and taken seriously. And they don’t want to let you in, and I’m not just talking about music. I think rock ’n’ roll is one of the more right wing businesses in terms of male-female politics. And the most conservative. What annoys me is the hypocrisy of it—this facade of it being cool. Is it any different in England?

No, it’s exactly the same in England. I think American women though, in terms of careers and career opportunity, are a lot more ahead than other places, particularly in England and Europe. However,

I don’t know if they are in terms of emotional relationships. I find that in America, there seems to be a lot of jealousy between women, fighting over men—which is silly—I’ve never met a man that’s worth fighting over! You know what I mean? I know women in New York who have a lot of power in their business, but when it comes to their personal relationships, they’re really insecure. And I think that English women—European women—are much more secure in their relationships, but may be not so happy in their careers.

I mean, I’m a feminist and what feminists are saying is not, “We want to be like you. We want to have the power.” What they’re saying is in order for this to be a well-balanced planet, for everybody to have a good time, men included, women must have equal opportunities to men. Whether they choose to do it or not is a whole different thing. If a woman chooses to stay home and have 10 babies and look after them, that’s as fine as anything else, but, it should also be given support. She really should be getting paid for doing that. She shouldn’t have to be relying on a man to be bringing home the money. And she should have means for independent income; I think that’s really important for women.

What kind of music attracts you nowadays?

I guess I’m involved in what we’re doing so much that I don’t listen much to other music. I do like the Pretenders and I’m a big fan of U2 and Prince. I sometimes feel like a person in the desert, because what I want to hear is something new and exciting and it seems that people get stuck in this generic rock ’n’ roll thing too easily instead of making something really new happen.

What about heavy metal?

I’m not interested in heavy metal; I find it utterly boring. What I liked about punk wasn’t necessarily the music—it was some of the most awful bloody music around. It was the attitude I liked—’cause the attitude was such that anybody could do anything and you didn’t have to take music lessons and you didn’t have to do anything. You just got up there and did it. You didn’t need technique, you just needed attitude. Later on, you actually discovered that you really did need a little technique! I suppose the closest thing I see in terms of that attitude at the moment—even though I hate it—is the Beastie Boys.

What da you think of that stuff?

I find it really threatening—not really nice at all. But it’s the same thing—I don’t think the Pistols would’ve lasted very long, either. And I don’t think the Pistols’ music was that great: it was rubbish, but it made you feel like you had a strong identity.

How do you like someone like Madonna, who relies a lot on sex appeal?

Madonna’s a funny one, ’cause I like her a lot. I think she’s a funny and very, very talented woman. I think she doesn’t get a lot of credit for things she does. I mean, she produces her own stuff—she’s done masses. And not now so much, but there’s still this attitude that she’s just a sexy bimbo, which is a lot of rubbish. She’s worked really hard and is really good. I think a lot of what she does is a joke.

How have you changed since the earlier days?

I have more money (smiles). I’ve got more choices. I think having hits gives you more confidence and I think I have a lot more power, not in a horrible way, but knowing myself—perhaps that happens as you get older. When I started out I had never written a song in my life and Tom and Joe said to me one day, “Why don’t you write a song?” And I thought, “Yeah, why don’t I? I could do it better than those two!” So I did.

How was it different writing such a personal album, Close To The Bone, as opposed to the earlier ones that were filled with bouncy and happy lyrics?

This new album, Close To The Bone, was the first album we needed to write as opposed to wanting to. This one I needed to do ’cause I had had such a bad time last year and such an awful summer. It was sort of like reconstructing, trying to make something positive, and putting those feelings into an album—feelings of grief, total sadness—and just to get rid of it. I think Close To The Bone is a rubbish dump for all my emotional dramas of last year!

Did it end up helping you?

Yeah. I mean it’s always helped. I write because I find it an important way for me to express those sorts of things.

Do you like being on the road away from home?

Yeah, it’s fun. I mean, I never had a home until last year. I had been living out of hotels, running from place to place, you know. Last year I decided I wanted a home, it was this nesting instinct I never realized we had in us! So, now we live between Ireland and London—which is really nice to have that security.