Boy George says the best thing about Narcotics Anonymous meetings is that “you
can sit down and not say a word”.
That I would love to see. He is impossibly candid, his tumbling words
roughened by that gravelly, camp brogue and flurries of laughter:
half-nervy, half-playful. Despite all the therapy and self-help he has
immersed himself in, he’s as opinionated and indiscreet as ever. Today he’s
got advice for Amy Winehouse and George Michael. He claims to have renounced
drugs for good. He bellows across a car park for a cigarette lighter.
George says he gave up drugs – specifically cocaine – last October, after
returning from New York, where he swept the streets in orange overalls as
his punishment for wasting police time. He had admitted to falsely reporting
a burglary at his Manhattan apartment; when the police arrived prosecutors
said they found 13 plastic bags of cocaine. Boy George said they weren’t his
and charges of cocaine possession were later dropped. “It was surreal and
quite fun,” he says of the street sweeping, apparently now inured to being
the centre of media firestorms, although the US authorities continue to deny
him a work visa, which means he cannot tour there. “But that’ll be sorted
out,” he says airily. He has a new single. He’s just starting a UK tour.
“Everything’s great.”
Is it? There’s a rather large elephant in the room. George, 47, is due back in
court next month in London, charged with falsely imprisoning a 28-year-old
man in a flat he lived in temporarily in East London in April 2007. “I will
be pleading not guilty, of course,” George says, cackling, sans slap
and dressed in slouchy leisurewear from B-Rude, his fashion label. He is
thickset, very regular-blokey, albeit one with dancing eyes and Clara Bow
lips. “I’m living in the moment. I know it’s coming but I’m not worrying
about it. I’m not saying it’s not a big deal, but life doesn’t stop. It’s
unfortunate it’s happening at a time when things are going so well for me,
but far better for it to happen at a time when I’m strong. It’s not as black
and white as people think. I’m a horny f***** [a cackle]. Cocaine and sex
are linked quite strongly and all the manic behaviour that happens when you
do that drug. When you stop you get more level-headed. A different kind of
libido has kicked in. It’s a lot more fun.”
Could he foresee returning to drugs if the verdict doesn’t go his way or if he
was sent to jail? “No. I’m clean and I’m staying that way. I have a lot of
clarity in my life. I’ve gone back to who I am: George O’Dowd in my purest
essence. ‘I have faith in these desolate times’, to quote Terence Trent
D’Arby.”
As befits this mood, the new single, Yes We Can, is a gospelly, discoey
whoosh of positivity, with a plaintive plea (“Please forgive these crimes
against myself”) and some snatches of Barack Obama speeches. Yes, he’s an
Obama supporter, “but the song’s personal: it’s about addiction, getting
clean,” says George and the second verse is for Amy Winehouse personally.
Who’s he asking for forgiveness? “Myself, of course – although with my
addiction it was only later I realised that I was hurting my family and
friends.” Did he ever feel suicidal? “No. But taking drugs, poisoning
yourself on a regular basis, is a form of suicide. Any kind of
self-destruction, anything that depletes your soul, is a crime, but it can
bring you wisdom.”
He says it was the media spotlight that saved him from heroin addiction in the
1980s. One morning last October, after doing cocaine, he woke up and felt “a
sense of loss. I knew that if I carried on there would be no happy ending,
just more misery. I looked outside and saw a tree. It was beautiful. I
realised how much I cut myself off from everything.”
And he just stopped? “Yes. You can with cocaine. I wasn’t at rock bottom but I
felt despair and bereft. The party was over. You get this idea that you’re
going to be less interesting off it, but I’ve discovered I was working with
half my vocabulary, half my brain.” He observes Winehouse sadly. “When
you’re hellbent on destroying yourself everyone else is powerless,
especially the people who love you most. Until she decides she wants to
change no one can do anything.”
He met her at a gig last year, but “I was as wasted as she was”. He told the
audience: “Amy Winehouse is brilliant but she’s a mouthy cow. Then I came
offstage and saw the beehive approaching. I apologised but she said, ‘No
you’re right, I am a mouthy cow’. She knows music heritage – she references
Donny Hathaway and Ray Charles. That’s the tragedy; she’s wonderful and she
makes it look effortless. Imagine what she’d be like at full capacity. I
know that when you’re in that state, you’re not appreciating all the amazing
things happening to you.” What should she do? “Therapy maybe. Rehab. NA is
amazing: there are people from all walks of life. It brings you down to
earth. When I first went I was really scathing: they mentioned God and I was
like, ‘I’m out of here’. I was quiet at the beginning, but you open up. You
have to help yourself.”
Despite the make-up and campy brogue, he was bought up, and remains, a hard
nut. His dad (construction worker Jerry, who died in 2004) was tough and
domineering; his mother Dinah, who shook him at his lowest moments and asked
why he was hurting himself so much when so many people loved him, is one of
his staunchest defenders.
Culture Club made him famous: the beaded hair, the paddle steamer in Karma
Chameleon, which became the group’s second No 1 (after Do You
Really Want To Hurt Me?). It sold 1.4 million copies and was the
best-selling single of 1983. The band broke up in 1986; by then George was
addicted to heroin and cocaine. They did reunite to tour briefly years ago.
“But we started arguing. Someone was shaving hookers in the bath,” says
George. “It was unpleasant. They fought against me wanting a more modern
sound. It felt very them versus me. I had no allies.”
Would he reunite again? “No. It’s like asking: ‘Would you go back to your ex?’
It seems a good idea at the time, but you’re dragging out all the old
skeletons. They made the mistake of replacing me with a man in make-up,
which is an insult. They shouldn’t call themselves Culture Club. But I have
no animosity. We have shared business interests.” And yes, he and Jon Moss,
Culture Club’s drummer and his much-pilloried former lover, are friends.
He doesn’t get nostalgic about the Eighties. “We were getting universally
slagged off. A lot of revisionism goes on. The Seventies was the most
interesting time: punk was fighting disco and reggae. Nowadays everything is
formatted. I don’t think what’s out there should be down to the public vote.
There’s something to be said for not giving people what they want. What
would Simon Cowell have said to Ziggy Stardust? ‘Change your outfit.’ He
would have based Bowie’s entire career on The Laughing Gnome.
When I was young I wrote to Opportunity Knocks and Junior Showtime.
Thank God I didn’t make it, it would have ruined me. I watch X
Factor and I voted for those Indian guys doing Michael Jackson
[Signature] on Britain’s Got Talent. But everything is based
around cruelty, eliminations. I want a world where Cliff Richard rubs
shoulders with Rihanna, Jay-Z with Status Quo.”
This week he started working on a song for Kanye West (“he loves Karma
Chameleon”), but claims not to care about returning to the charts.
“There is life beyond the mainstream and that’s a relief. I’ve never liked
selling myself. I’m not diminished if I don’t have a Top Ten record. If
someone offers me enough money I’ll sign a deal, or I’ll put out songs
myself. The internet has changed everything. I won’t sacrifice everything
good about myself for the sake of my career, like some.” He pouts. “No names
mentioned.” Is he having one of his periodic pops at Madonna? Their
animosity is rooted in a series of supposed snubs. “I admire that she’s
never become a drug or alcohol addict. Her tenacity. It would be fascinating
to discover what is real, her heart. I’ve heard she can be cruel. I wonder
what it would take to stop that behaviour.” He has “always been one to end a
feud”, so a diva detente is possible.
Love is “hugely important” for George. For the past four years, on and off,
he’s been seeing a sensible-sounding lawyer. “He hadn’t realised I was on
drugs, and why I was acting so strangely. I never wanted a Ming vase for the
sake of it: it’s got to be the real thing or not at all. As long as they
don’t tell me they love me, it’s fine. It’s when you utter that word you
enter dangerous territory [cackle]. Don’t go there unless you’re sure. My
capacity to love is quite huge and terrifying.” So he and the lawyer haven’t
said it to each other? “No. You can worry relationships out of existence.”
He’s been stung by those after money or fame or “who think a bit of the
glitter is going to fall off on them. I’ve always aimed above my station.
I’ve always gone for gold and got gold. Mind you, I do find some really
cranky f*****s attractive [cackle]. I’m no body fascist. Just because
someone looks good doesn’t mean they’ll make you happy.”
Are he and the lawyer monogamous? “I don’t believe you have to be monogamous
but you have to be respectful. Don’t come home and say: ‘Oh I’ve just had
sex with someone else.’ Telling them can be the worst thing.” He isn’t
seeing anyone else, though. And civil partnership? “My problem is what it
seems to be saying is ‘If we act more like you [straight people] you’ll
tolerate us more’ and of course they don’t. I would feel silly, but if the
moment overtook me I would do it and suffer the consequences of being a
hypocrite.”
He says he doesn’t care about turning 50 or the jibes about his weight. His
head and neck are sprouting numerous tattoos, including a Star of David.
“When I look in the mirror I think, ‘What a cute guy’.” He even has some
sympathy for his old punching bag George Michael following his arrest for
possessing crack cocaine and marijuana. “In the past he’s messed up and I’ve
laughed. But getting arrested is the worst thing in the world. I know. Maybe
he doesn’t care. But is he really having fun? When I look at Amy and George
I know where they are, I know what they are. I know what it’s like to be
clacking, sweaty and chaotic and to have no clarity. Seek the wisdom to
soothe the soul.” He has just returned from touring in Colombia: “As a
recovering drug addict, that’s a bit of a milestone,” he notes drily.
Some people think, “What a waste” when they think about him, I say. “I think
that myself,” George replies. “That’s why I want to remind people what I
actually do. Singing. Writing.” He adds that one of the big triggers for
doing drugs has been when things are going well professionally, so if he’s
feeling as good as he says he is he must also be at his most watchful.
Yes We Can is released digitally on Oct 12. Tour dates at boygeorge.live.com
