A CONVERSATION WITH DAVE WAKELING

Dave discusses the history of the Beat, song-writing, politics and social activism.

Describe the UK's musical atmosphere in the late '70s.

We were very lucky because we came immediately after punk. They tore all the buildings down, there was dust in the air and nobody had rewritten the rules yet. The energy of punk hadn't been contained yet and manufactured into new wave.

If you managed to get your music across in an eye-catching and ear-catching way, you could be on 'Top of the Pops.' That's what the Beat did, along with the Specials, Elvis Costello, the Pretenders, the Jam. We were all on 'Top of the Pops,' and in the Top 40 at the same time.

Quite a lot of those groups have managed to keep their music and reputations intact through the fog of history."

What was the state of race relations around the same time?

In the late '70s, race relations in the UK were a mixed bag. People of all colors in the Midlands where we lived were working in the factory lines and drinking in the same pubs for so long, it was common for black and white musicians to be playing in the same band.

When people of all colors started losing jobs, they found themselves in the unemployment lines – again in the same boat. Skinheads were recruited to exploit the white working class, but one of the great charms about 2 Tone was that it turned up at exactly the same time, not because of it. When you had people of all colors drinking in the same pubs, wearing the same clothes and dancing to the same music, it's difficult to foment a race war.

There were black kids, white kids and Asian kids as well. It was rather nice because everyone had Birmingham accents. We all sounded like Ozzie Osborne.

Tell us about Birmingham's history in terms of music.

Birmingham has a musical pedigree much like London, Detroit or San Francisco. Lots of groups hailed from Birmingham: Black Sabbath, Robert Plant and John Bonham of Led Zeppelin, Judas Priest, ELO, the Moody Blues, The Move, Traffic.

Then it had been sort of quiet for a while. Around '78 and '79, all of the sudden there was Dexy's Midnight Runners, UB40 the Au Pairs and the Beat. And then shortly after that, Duran Duran.

Is there a story behind the Beat Girl?

The Beat Girl image had a real purpose. Our early shows were mainly dominated by males. And of course they were drinking, so there were a lot of fights at the shows. That was the reason why we had the Beat Girl. We hoped the Beat Girl logo would draw more women to the gigs. With women there, the guys would stop trying to break each others noses. They'd dress a little more dandy and be on their better behavior to impress the women. It worked.

The 2 Tone logo came first – the black and white 'Walt Jabsco.' And you couldn't tell if he was black or white. The Specials' bassist, Horace Panter, designed it.

Hunt Emerson, the famous cartoonist, drew the Beat Girl. It's from an original photo of a woman dancing with Prince Buster in Jamaica in front of a juke box in the 1960s. You couldn't tell if Beat Girl was white, black in negative, or Asian. That was on purpose.

How did the 2 Tone bands interact with one another?

It was more comradeship than competition among the 2 Tone bands, and we tried to be more utilitarian rather than 'pop stars as demigods.' On one of the Specials/Beat tours, we alternated on who would headline the shows. The Specials were from Coventry, just down the road from Birmingham.

How did you fit in with the London scene?

Bands that didn't hail from London could have a hard time of it once they got there. London is only 100 miles from Birmingham, but every mile means a great deal, even more so psychologically. Being from Birmingham, the Londoners look down on us 'Brummies' as being purely provincial.

I didn't meet any of musicians from the London bands too often, except Mick Jones of the Clash. We got on well. He's a great arranger with a great sense of space – the notes and lyrics he leaves in and leaves out. Very creative.

Describe the Beat's songwriting process.

There were a few ways in which the Beat wrote songs. Probably the most exciting or original was when bassist David Steele would say, 'listen to what I've written,' and it was something nobody had heard before. Then we'd put a reggae beat behind it and I'd write a melody around it.

The other process was Andy Cox and I singing and strumming our guitars along in the background, kind of a folk idea.

Other times, a song would just come out of jamming at rehearsal. But that only happened once or twice.

Who's most responsible for the Beat's sound?

Everett Morton and Saxa were most responsible for the Beat sound, and Saxa taught us about the spiritual connectivity of music, but everybody was a creative force. Dave Steele was the Mozart of the band, and I tried my best to be the Shakespeare. Andy Cox was particularly adept at bringing other people's ideas together. Ranking Roger could make an audience clap and dance even without music.

What about your songwriting now?

When I write songs today, I often have to wait for it – hold on and let the pressure build up. For whatever reason, the songs have to visit me. It all comes out like one projectile vomit. Then I have to find a pen before I forget it. As a mnemonic device, I try to remember images that go along with a line. Sometimes I just come up with a rhyming verse. Then the challenge is 'where's the music in this?'

Before I pick up a guitar, I sing it and sing it and sing it to find the most comfortable key for my voice. then I get the guitar and try to find out what note it is.

I don't have any recording equipment around me. If I did, I feel like I'd be recording music all day and thinking 'oh, that's good,' when it really isn't. I could write songs about anything, but I only want to write songs about what moves me.

Fortunately, there's much to write about at the moment, not just in world politics. All the old ways of doing things aren't working anymore. Our cultural icons aren't working, including bombing people.

Aren't there a few unconfirmed rumors about the writing of 'Mirror in the Bathroom?'

One of the popular misconceptions about 'Mirror in the Bathroom' is that it was inspired by my habit of writing songs in the bathroom. It's true that I wrote songs in the bathroom, but it had nothing to do with the song.

The bathroom still is a place of refuge for me. The shower is a good spot. Most of my songwriting nowadays in the bathroom comes when I'm in the shower. The jingle-jangle of the water seems to trigger music for me.

The other untruth about 'Mirror in the Bathroom' is that it's about doing drugs – cocaine specifically. That's not true at all; I just didn't have the money for that sort of thing at the time.

How important is it for songs to have messages?

Every story has to be about something – that's the first line of 'Doors of Your Heart.' But it isn't necessary for every song to deliver a message.

I think music has different functions. Some of the best songs to sing along to are Gary Glitter songs, which have no lyrics.

I try to find ways of revealing my own human foibles and expressing them. I dig down into myself. I like to share my opinions through music and invite people that are listening and dancing to it to think about them. I'm sure my slant comes across, but you can't help that.

What are your favorite Beat tunes?

I have several favorite Beat songs. 'Save it for Later' I wrote it as a teenager, but some of the members of the Beat thought it was too rock, so it didn't make it onto the first two albums. It's the most covered Beat song. Pete Townsend and Pearl Jam have covered it.

I like 'I Confess' and 'Drowning' a lot. And 'Stand Down Margaret' not only because of the song, but for the social effect that it had – the political implications.

I like the bass rhythm in 'Mirror in the Bathroom' and 'Twist and Crawl.' I still haven't heard anything like it since.

 

Who profits from Beat song royalties?

Royalties from Beat songs are split six ways among all the band members, but songwriting in the Beat wasn't necessarily a six-person process.

There's a French saying: If you're not a socialist under the age of 40, you have no heart. If you're a socialist after the age of 40, you have no brain.

I'd like to think splitting royalties was an act of egalitarianism, but really I was just ashamed to talk about money in those days. I didn't know how to approach the topic. Because we made everybody in the band equal, nobody had to do anything. The smarter guys in the band took the do-nothing route and it became almost impossible to do anything – even to hold a rehearsal. There wasn't a competitive edge driving anybody.

How do you feel when you hear one the Beat's songs on the radio?

When I hear a Beat song on the radio, most often I feel agitated. Then I quickly look around to see if anyone's recognized me. By the first chorus, I start thinking about what we could have done differently in the studio: 'Oh, that should never sound like that. That should be louder. I hate my voice there.'

Then I go back and forth thinking, 'these songs are part of the culture. Let it go, Dave.' You get stuck in the minutia of it, but I suppose that's what musicians do. The band was such a dream that I thought would never happen, so when I hear a song on the radio, it does stir me.

Why was the band later known as the English Beat?

The way the Beat evolved into the English Beat is an odd story. I got a phone call one day from San Francisco's most famous promoter and manager, Bill Graham. He said, 'Oh, I hear you've got a group called the Beat. I manage a group called the Beat in America. You can't use that name.'

Then he asked if we had management and offered to help us when we got to America. I acted like a punk instead of a politician and told him that I was disgusted with him, that he was willing to sell his current band down the river.

So, first we wanted to be called the Beat Brothers, but they didn't like it and thought it sounded too much like the Blues Brothers. I don't even remember who 'they' were.

We were having breakfast in New York and we noticed English muffins – they're not called English muffins in England, by the way – on the menu. Something about 'English' is kind of quaint, where 'British' is like 'redcoats – those bastards.' So the English Beat stuck.

The other band called the Beat were known as 'The Paul Collins Beat' in England. We met them once as a sort of peacekeeping effort. We tried to make the best of it and be as friendly as we could.

There was some talk of us going back to the Beat, sort of reclaiming our birthright, for our third album. But some marketing surveys were quickly done and we were too well known as the English Beat by then.

Why did the Beat break up?

There are several reasons why the Beat split up. One of the main reasons was that the drummer and the bassist quit communicating musically. You could feel the distance on stage between the bass and drums and just getting rehearsals together was tortuous. It got hard and took all the fun out of it.

David Steele was a punk with a clear idea of what he wanted and where he was going. Everett Morton was a left-handed drummer; he had his kit set up like a right-handed drummer but played it left-handed. His was an original style and if you worked with it, it sounded real unique. But if you didn't, it sounded like a train wreck. Instead of working with it, David just turned his bass up and went for gold.

We tried to sign a deal with Virgin Records. Every time we got close, the band came up with 10 new things that we needed. We carried on for a bit longer, but the record companies said 'You know what? The Beat are done and you don't want a deal.'

To be honest, the Beat split up in the beginning of '84, six months before I left. Andy Cox and I always promised each other that if it ever got to where it was like swimming uphill, we would pack it in. That's what we did.

Unfortunately, we were managing ourselves at that point and probably just needed three months rest, a big glass of milk and some cookies. But saying that, the Beat probably ran its course by then anyway.

I tied the noose around my neck publicly and took the blame for leaving the group and signing with Virgin to form General Public with Ranking Roger, which was a mix of pop and soul and reggae.

Andy and David went on with Fine Young Cannibals with the idea of leaning less toward reggae. There was more Detroit than Kingston in it, but that was fine, too.

The Beat and General Public peaked in the 1980s. How do you handle the "has-been" label?

Actually, General Public had some chart success beyond the '80s. We had a No. 1 Billboard Dance Chart hit in 1995 with a mix of 'I'll Take You There.'

And To quote my father, who consoled me once when a Beat single didn't do as well as I thought it should, 'you should remember that it's better to be a has-been than a never-bleeding-wasser.'"

Is there a difference between your American and English fans?

There are differences in the way English and American fans appreciate the Beat. The English fans talk to me about the philosophical effect I've had on their lives and how their outlook about their bleak circumstances was uplifted.

The American fans talk to me about the social effect I've had on their lives. Where they were when they first heard one of our songs, or that they lost their virginity in the backseat of a car while the Beat was playing on the radio.

To a lot of people, particularly in America, Ranking Roger and I were the first black and white singing duo they'd ever seen, sort of a latter day Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. We were a symbol of inclusion.

Does the Beat have a lasting impact on music?

I can't say whether the Beat had an impact on future music, but a lot of people and the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame think so. There's been talk of inducting the Beat. Bands inducted are not necessarily bands that have sold a lot of records, but those who have had an impact on the next generation of bands. They have a lot of statements from bands who say that we influenced the way they approached music.

Then, there's the act of hybridity. My idea was to try and mix everything that has ever moved me – Motown, reggae, Van Morrison, punk and the Velvet Underground. I had this sense that through music, you could express the idea that people all have a great deal more in common – regardless of color, religion and geography – than was being advertised. Our commonality is more important than our differences.

But I must say, I'm more excited about my guitar being in the Hall of Fame than the band being in there. To have my left-handed guitar in there with Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain's left-handed guitar is something magical.

The Beat was political. Is it essential for bands to be political?

It's not essential that bands be political in terms of their songs, but everybody need to be political in order to live a full life. For an artist, it's important to be aware of your political surroundings, but it's not essential that politics be part of your mark. Art has a number of different functions, and one of them is expression.

Sometimes, not being political is in itself a statement. That Duran Duran came out with an album that didn't mention anything about politics was an incredibly political comment. And some of the most politically profound comments I've heard in music are included in songs that weren't meant to be political at all.

Music certainly goes in waves of pure entertainment or social commentary. After a while, either wave gets boring. I like the combination of them at the same time. You can have an optimistic beat with a social commentary.

Is it true that you don't drink anymore?

I haven't drank alcohol for many years now. I got a 'letter from my liver,' which means I can't handle it anymore. I tried drinking just one glass of wine in the evening for a while, but I would get such a headache that it wasn't worth it.

I come from a long line of drinkers. I was well-known as a funny drunk that could turn very spiteful very quickly with a sense of humor that a lot of people didn't understand. But that's all changed.

Tell us about your family.

My wife, Damessa, and I have two children, Maximilian and Chloe.

I also have two older kids in England. The oldest, Ingrid, lives in Brighton and is the mother of my young grandson, Josef. Adam lives in London. He was in a bad accident at age 17 and has spent his time in the hospital and rehabilitation.

He was hit by a car at 60 miles-an-hour while riding his bicycle with his guitar on his back. Adam was in a coma for seven or eight months and it was touch and go for a while. People weren't sure if he was going to wake up.

Once I got over the 'it's not fair' feelings, it really changed my perspective. Little things don't effect me as much. I don't make a mosquito into a speeding train, so to speak.

What do you like to do in your spare time?

I don't have a lot of free time to pursue hobbies or anything. I'm all work. I do walk the dogs and adore Max's sports. I'm a good soccer coach – 'Coach Dave.' I make a point of watching Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert every day, and I flick between CSPAN and CNN. When I'm not doing gigs, I work three-hour shifts at the computer with an hour's break in bed between each shift.

What is your involvement with politics and social change today?

I'm not a U.S. citizen, so I can't vote or sit on a jury. I wouldn't want to either; I don't think the system is a democracy. It's a financial meritocracy.

I've been involved with tying music to social activism like setting up an outreach program for Green Peace at pop concerts. I worked for a while with Heal The Bay, a nonprofit group working to make Southern California's coastal waters safe and healthy for people, plants and animals. I also support Smile Train, a non-profit that provides free surgery to children in the developing world born with clefts. Doctors can do the work for only $250. When I first saw that, I thought, '$250 – that's a music industry sushi lunch.'