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Pet Shop Boys
Pet Shop Boys never do things by halves. Each and every project the intrepid duo have undertaken in their 18 year career has boasted an attention to detail, a sense of occasion, of grandeur - albeit frequently tinged with comedy ridiculousness - unrivalled by their fellow modern music merchants.
It is therefore agreed that Chris will talk on the telephone at a later date, but Neil shall attend, face to face, as planned.
St Pancras Chambers, London, WC1. A colossal gothic Victorian building, originally erected as a luxury hotel in 1873; its Dracula's Castle-esque magnificence, totally at odds with the beat of today's surrounding streets. In the 1960s, having been semi-derelict since its closure in 1935, the building was saved from demolition and awarded Grade 1 'listed' status. A painfully slow restoration job has since been in progress. Meanwhile, it towers erect, but forlorn, over the various vicey goings-on of the notorious Kings Cross area; a reminder of when this part of the Capital was still considered swank.
Inside, SN is met by lan MacNeil. He is a 'top' set designer and, in conjunction with the Pet Shop Boys, has arranged some bizarreness for their current round of press and TV interviews. We embark on a quick tour of the building, before Neil - munching Indian fare in a local restaurant - arrives. First, to the impressive marble lavatories, which reek of historic urine and must require oceans of Ajax to keep nice.
Then, up and up an asthma-inducing curved staircase - past intricately tiled walls, ex-hotel rooms with bare floorboards and crumbling plaster - the faded splendour all overlooked by the high-in-the-sky domed roof. As we venture down a corridor, lan (under) states: "They wanted to play on the typical ‘journalist-interviewing-pop-group-in-their-hotel-room' situation." He points to some video monitors/screens lining the walls. "Those'll be showing their new video, and projections." He then opens the door to what will be the Pet Shop Boys' parodic interview HQ. This special room is vast, has been painted a brilliant white and benefits from expensive, subtle lighting. Two trendy-looking (era unknown) chairs are perched upon a raised, under-lit perspex platform - still being knocked into shape by a couple of technicians. It is not hard to mentally picture Neil and Chris here; new stately queens, regally holding court with gob-smacked Japanese hacks - whose pop grillings are the first scheduled to commence next week. Once more, it seems, the Pet Shop Boys have triumphantly gone over the top.
SN feels short-changed, though; a tad cheated from the 100% Pet Shop Boys media-high-jinks-experience. Why? Because the interview is to be conducted downstairs - back in the reception area. SN makes its chagrin known to a just-arrived Neil, after he has seated himself and Englishly requested his manager procure him a cup of tea. "Well, you had such an early deadline." mock tut-tuts the man, who once sang of 'never being boring'. "You couldn't wait till next week, otherwise you'd have had the whole thing. " Presumably, the 'whole thing' will include the Pet Shop Boys donning the full, ludicrous regalia of their video? (More on that in due course). "Oh, I don't know if I can be bothered really..." Neil sighs, “…putting on wigs every flamin' morning for Japanese press. We might do it for TV things, though. We just wanted to do interviews here because it's a little adventure. It's good to do every single thing you do in a different way - it's boring for a journalist to go and sit in a hotel room in the Dorchester or wherever, which all seems very routine...”
Not on your telly, Neil looks his 45 years of age. His frame is stockier than the wisp of yesteryear; his hair, once fey and curly, now short and greying with a respectable degree of male pattern baldness. Dressed in blue jeans and a well-pressed black shirt, he looks rather like a school teacher. Over the years, he has often been branded aloof and/or pretentious - usually by sorry musos who believe guitar music to be more sincere/emotive, than sounds which embrace the new-fangled. And/or by people, who harbour suspicion towards all things London - a key source of inspiration for much Pet Shop Boys' output. Actually, (one of his and Chris' favourite words, and the title of their 1987 album) Neil is down to earth, worldly-wise - a little weary at times - mostly very gregarious. The North Eastern twang is still evident.
The new Pet Shop Boys single is called I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Anymore. Neil believes it to be “A very cruel song, about the end of a relationship. When you first hear it, it sounds quite slight - it's got a very European, Giorgio Moroder quality - but the more you hear it it's quite intense really." And, it has a ridiculously long title, doesn't it? "I didn't think it was that long," he reckons, "until everyone said 'Aren't you going to shorten it?' We have the Guinness Record for the longest hit single title in British history - for Where The Streets Have No Name (I Can't Take My Eyes Off You), so [counts fingers] this is shorter." (Just).
Neil - who swapped Newcastle for London (Chelsea) in the 1970s - could now, justifiably, be termed the Ultimate Metropolitan Man. "What does that mean?" he puzzles, brow furrowed, before confessing, "I know what you mean really [laughs] of course I am!" Indeed, he is: well-dressed (Issey Miyake being his favourite designer), media-savvy, keen on, and a collector of art (Chris gave him a Damien Hirst 'spot' painting, as you do), about design and history also, plus good restaurants, what's on at theatres, and the like. One can imagine him living a 24 hour, glossy gay lifestyle, fresh off the pages of Wallpaper magazine. "It's not true," he huffs, shuffling in his chair, "I'm not Peter Mandleson. I mean, Chris lives a minimalist life - we've all seen his flat in Elle Decoration. [Truly, a chintz-free zone ]. I wouldn't live in a minimalist interior because I find it a bit bleak - I like comfort." When probed for details of his des res, Neil retorts "Oh, is this the Hello part of the interview?" before disclosing, "I have two homes... one is a house in County Durham - which I never thought I'd go back to, coming from Newcastle. But I've lived mostly in Chelsea since 1978, when I had a bedsit on the Kings Road. My London home now is a classic Chelsea Georgian house. What's in it? Well, it's got a lot of paintings - I've more recently been collecting contemporary art but l've also got pre-Raphaelite art - which I started collecting 12 years ago. [So don't show this to burglars]. I collect work by Victor Pasmore, and by Simeon Solomon, who was a very good artist. He was done for cottaging in the 1880s and sent to prison for two years. After that he lived in a working mens' hostel off the Charing Cross Road, and made his living by doing chalk drawings and selling them." Neil is, of course, au-fait with contemporary art world stars, too. For example, Sam Taylor-Wood rudely gasps on a cover version of Je T'Aime for the Pet Shop Boys' latest B-side. Neil: "Mmmm, she does a very good orgasm."
He continues, "It's funny, because Chelsea used to be dead trendy and now - this is what I like about it - it's just so not trendy. When I first lived there, there were still Punks and Teds and I used to be scared to walk about. In fact, we've written a song the for B-side of the next single called The Ghost Of Myself and it's all about when I used to live there, and be staight, and go out with this girl. I thought it was sad, but Chris thinks it's hilarious. [Laughs] He goes 'Oh, that hilarious new B-side of yours..."
Please describe a typical Tennant day. (He bats no eyelid): "Well, I get up at about 9.30 in the morning. I have breakfast [sounds like lyrics from Left To My Own Devices] usually wholemeal toast, with Olivio margarine and Marmite. Although recently I've defected from Marmite to Vegemite. When I went out with this Australian girl, who I was telling you about before, she always used to say [does quite bad Australian accent] ‘I've gotta get Vegemite!' It has got a milder flavour, I find. I used to have tea, but now I have coffee, and one of my extravagances is to buy Blue Mountain coffee from Jamaica. I love Jamaica, and it's the best coffee in the world - sort of mild So, I grind it and stick it in the cafetiere... oh, and I normally have a glass of apple juice too. In summer I'll sit on the little terrace which looks down on the garden. I bought my house because it has a garden, it's quite a small one, but quite big for Chelsea..." (Visions of Neil going all Percy Thrower abound. SN demands to know if he is green-fingered, good with... a lawn-mower, maybe? But he's on a roll, and continues the charmed life monologue, oblivious). “Then I read - the New Statesman or Times Literary Supplement. I don't like glossy magazines in the morning. [Laughs - at SN?]. Then, the 'phone rings... sometimes it's Jon Savage [journalist/author] and he says 'Who do we hate this week?' We laugh about some tragic popstar or other and erm, then normally I go to the studio or have meetings." And when dusk falls, what then? "In the evening, I normally go out to eat, or to the theatre, or the cinema or just to meet friends..." (Incidentally, Janet Street Porter is one such pal. She wanted Neil to go rambling with her in her recent TV series dedicated to such pastimes. "I refused to be filmed walking though the countryside," he scoffs, "I said 'No, it's bad for my image, I'm not getting all tweedy.’") More Pet Shop Boys-ishly, then, does he still frequent the discotheques of London Town? "Occasionally, not as much as / used to. Clubbing is a bit like pop music," he rues, "It's just an industry now. It's all so ghetto-ised." So, no cutting-the-rug for Neil, then? "Erm... I dance sometimes - more so at parties. I went to lan Mckellen's 60th birthday and danced at that. Monica Lewinsky was there, dancing next to me. I said to her 'Hi, I'm Neil Tennant' and she said [adopts yank tone] I know you are! I grew up in L.A in the '80s and we all used to listen to you guys'. She seemed very nice..."
Neil's polystyrene cup of lemon tea was gamely sipped ages ago, and our hard, plastic chairs have, by now, become increasingly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the allocated slot with this Pet Shop Boy ran out half an hour previously. His manager appears at the door, her eyebrow slightly arched. SN accelerates the pace, with a few last, hasty questions... Does Chris have a nickname for you? "Naughty Neil, because of the time The Sun called me it. We'd been doing ‘Top Of The Pops' and I'd got a bit drunk before-hand. This little BBC commissionaire appeared and said I couldn't carry my bottle of lager downstairs. I just flicked his peaked cap and then ran off down the corridor. [Laughs] Later on, I went back upstairs and he was saying ‘There he is! That's the one who was trying to hit me!' I said ‘I'm sorry, I had two bottles of Pils and I shouldn't have done that'. Then they went and sold the story to The Sun, but, you know, that's their prerogative."
Have you and Chris ever thrown a TV out of a hotel window?
"Erm... I don't think I've ever even thrown a teabag out of a hotel window."
Bet you've both agonised over the title for the forthcoming album?
"It's not going to be funny. It's not going to be called 'Bananas' - despite what it says on the internet."
When did you last wee in the street?
"It wasn't in the street, as such, but it was outside, when I was in County Durham. It was behind a dry stone wall, actually."
Five days later, Chris rings up on a crackling mobile telephone and can talk for exactly half an hour, before his lunch arrives. His deceased gran was 92 years old, and, of course, a Pet Shop Boys fan. "She had a really good life," he says, brave in the face of bereavement. And, looking on the bright-lights side, adds, "She lived in Las Vegas for a few years, you know. She used to go and watch Tom Jones, and throw her knickers at him... well, not actually throw her knickers at him, but she had a great time."
Still, Lowe-life goes on. As do the shenanigans in St Pancras Chambers, which, by now, are in full global promotion swing, with both Pet Shop Boys present. Cheeky Chris, who hails from even cheekier Blackpool, refuses to reveal his real age ("say I'm 32") and guffaws infectiously and frequently, has entered into the surreal spirit of the occasion with ease. "We did Japan yesterday and the day before, and we've moved on to England now," he breezes internationally. "With the Japanese media it’s strange, though, because none of them have commented on what’s going on here. I don’t know what they make of it all. They probably just think we live here and this is our bizarre living room.”
Has he paid a call to the aforementioned impressive marble lavatories? "The ground floor ones, you mean?" he asks - a hint of sheepishness creeping into his voice, "erm, well, we're two floors up from that so l've been secretly pissing in the wash basin on our floor - I can't be bothered going down all those stairs! Anyway, I love pissing in public places... actually, [alarmed] what magazine am I doing here? Sleaze Nation? Oh well, there you go, perfect for you..." (?)
Here is what happens in the big budget video for I Dont Know What You Want But / Can't Give It Anymore (By the way, Chris thinks the new single is about "someone being a bit demanding, not doing the washing up and stuff. “):
Neil and Chris lie in an operating theatre, while hairless people inject substances into them with syringes/ There are many test tubes - some appear to contain blood/ Neil and Chris then possess, as if by magic, big new barnets - slaggy-blond, spikey, with dark roots - and are dressed by the hairless people, with much ritualistic twintzing and tweeking/ Neil and Chris now sport small pairs of dark sunglasses, and Chris looks ever-so like Johnny Rotten (densely drawn-on eyebrows suggest something more Dennis Healy)/ Resplendent in Samurai flared-to-the-point-of-skirt-type trousers, leather gloves and wintery cagoules of mass-produced nylon, Neil and Chris step outside into a drizzly, grey land/ Locals do not threaten to twat them for such brazen flamboyance, as they too are similarly attired/ Expensive-looking pedigree dogs appear - Hey bingo! - out of nowhere/ Neil and Chris take them for a hasty, rather joyless walk, before sitting on a bench/ And looking very fucked off.
At this point, SN (MA Hons in Fine Art) earnestly waxes lyrical an highly elaborate, personal 'interpretation' of said video - far too 'complex', too mind-blowingly 'profound' and, it turns out, too shit to print here. When the deafening gales of Chris' laughter eventually die down, he offers an infinitely more pedestrian explanation: "It was a collaboration, between me, Neil, lan MacNeil and Pedro Romanyi, the director. The costumes had already been designed by lan, and it was a case of 'How do you put them in the video?'. It's based on 3 films: 'Ridicule' - there's a scene with this whole ritual of getting ready to go out. And there's '2001 A Space Odyssey' by Stanley Kubrick - the end scene of that, when they're in the living room with the illuminated floor, and then the other film is 'Clockwork Orange' which has that brutalist concrete setting. So, those are the 3 key images behind it. Oh! [suddenly gets all excited] At one point in the video, there were body doubles to stand in for us and the camera panned over their jock-strapped buttocks. Anyway, they didn't pick flattering people to stand in for us, so [laughs] we cut that bit out!"
When not busy, callously tossing strangers' rancid VHS rears aloft an editing suite floor, Chris can be found idling away the hours in various exotic locations. Like Blackpool, where his parents still reside, and which he reccomends for the cosmopolitan ambience: "It's got a great party atmosphere. It's the number 1 destination for hen and stag parties now. When you go out in Blackpool it's amazing. really. I like the way that all the girls queueing up to go in the bars and stuff have got, like, short mini-skirts on, and its December and it's freezing. No one wears a coat - even if it's raining and they're drenched." For sunnier climes he will nip over to Ibiza. "I like the clubs in Ibiza. You've got to go and get wrecked haven't you?" (Though, Body and Soul in New York is his current favourite niterie).
For this Pet Shop Boy, getting out on the road - be it leisure or work - is a joy. "I love staying in hotels," he chirps, "because, you know, you get your bed made every day. your room cleaned, fresh towels and everything. That's ideal living." He is looking forward to Creamfields in August - which the Pet Shop Boys will be headlining - and to their first UK tour for nine years, commencing in December. Plans are of the full-on persuasion, as have been previous live events: In 1989, the late Derek Jarman created a lush theatrical extravaganza for a tour of Japan, Hong Kong and the UK, their 1991 world tour was overseen by avant garde opera director David Alden and designer David Fielding, and, in 1997, artist Sam Taylor-Wood collaborated with them for a three week residency at the Savoy Hotel in London. This time, an adaptable, modular stage set is being designed by 'world famous' architect Zaha Hadid, who wouldn't normally do this sort of thing. "It's going to be great," approves Chris, "I do like a bit of architecture."
He was, however, at the vanguard of what has since become fashionable 'loft living' - long before every Tom, Dick or fashion-Heroin-addict decided that East London was chic. "I love living in Clerkenwell," he says," but I think they're overdeveloping it now. You can't move for all these buildings being converted into lofts. You get all these naff property developers moving in, so they can make a quick buck…”
Rather than simply gut an old space, Chris had his pad freshly built atop the flat roof of an old building. "I got my mates who I did architecture with at college to come in and deck it out for me. They had the idea of cutting a huge hole in the roof, and putting an opening skylight in it. I thought 'that's a mad idea, it's bound to leak', but it hasn't done: It's really nice in the summer - you open it and you can lie in bed and see the moon and the aeroplanes flying over."
But it must be a bugger to keep one's slick and streamlined urban space free of clutter? "Oh, you can't be untidy," Chris warns, "you have to put everything away all the time. I've got a cleaner, though, who comes round twice a week... and no, it's not a houseboy, before you say it! No, I'm not telling you his name, he wouldn't want to be mentioned in a magazine." SN trusts Mister Char is from a reputable showbiz-friendly cleaning agency... "Oh, he's exceptionally good," Chris insists, “I certainly get my money's worth. Actually, I don't know how much he charges. I don't even know how he gets paid... must be some direct debit thing." Does he snoop? "He probably plays my CD collection... I like compilations best, I've just bought The Clubbers Guide To Ibiza' and Ibiza Classic Cuts." Which must drive the neighbours er, mental? "Oh I don't know them... [laughs] who wants to know their neighbours?"
Having by now concluded that Chris is, without doubt, one of pop's more happy-go-lucky characters, SN seeks to probe his inner-most vaudevillian psyche. Can he do any good impersonations, for instance? (The remaining 4 minutes of interview time descend into sitcom-type chaos). "Erm... no, I'm no good at that sort of thing," he claims, "but Neil does a great one of Vic Reeves, swearing. It's very good. Actually, he could do it for you now... [shouts to Neil] Oi! Do you want to do your Vic Reeves impression?" "I'll shout it from here," yells a distant Neil. "Oh, he can't come to the 'phone at the moment," explains Chris, "he's just trying on a top hat and tails. [Hollers]: No, that doesn't look smart enough, Neil!" Smart enough for what, chimes SN? "For Elton John's dinner," Chris giggles, "it's a white tie affair. Look out for the pictures, they'll be in Hello...”
Then: "MONICA LEWINSKY IS AN ABSOLUTE CUNT!" foghorns a sinister voice in the background. Neil's 'Vic Reeves' voice. "Oh, sorry, I'm doing it in the wrong accent," he wails, "I did it in Yorkshire...” The line goes briefly muffled, as Chris passes the mobile to an in-a-flap Neil. "Oh, it's you again, is it?" he asks SN, most witheringly. "It went wrong, and I did it so good the other day. It should be Middlesborough, not Yorkshire. It should be like this: 'Monica Lewinsky is an absolute cunt!’ [Sounds more like Vera Duckworth] Oh, I've done it wrong again... oh, sorry. Honestly, I could do it so good the other day, I kept doing it and, erm... actually, she's not a cunt, she's very nice. I'll try and do it again, it's more like this..."
Chris snatches back the phone: "Yeah, he lost it, this time, but he has been doing it very well. He did it very well in the restaurant the other night. I think it takes a couple of glasses of wine and it just comes out right."
Tell us a joke Chris. "A joke... a joke…” he ponders for an eternity. "No, I don't think I know any... [to Neil] Do I know any jokes?" (Neil deigns to help him out again - still chuntering indignantly from afar about his Monica debacle). "I'm not very good at jokes..." sighs Chris. Suddenly, he perks up "We're having our lunch in a minute!" Finally, as his gastric juices begin foaming like Niagra, SN determines to glean 40 seconds worth of quality career advice - on behalf of each and every budding future pop star - from this veteran entertainer. Chris is most obliging:
"They just need to be very young and good-looking. Like we are."
However, in this instance the Pet Shop Boys do, literally - (title of a 1990 book about them) - do things by halves. Because, two days prior to SN meeting them, a telephone call comes from their record company: Chris Lowe's gran has died, very suddenly, therefore he cannot be present on the day of questioning. (Pop stars - however amusingly deadpan, as this one is prone be - have feelings too, you know).
It is therefore agreed that Chris will talk on the telephone at a later date, but Neil shall attend, face to face, as planned.
St Pancras Chambers, London, WC1. A colossal gothic Victorian building, originally erected as a luxury hotel in 1873; its Dracula's Castle-esque magnificence, totally at odds with the beat of today's surrounding streets. In the 1960s, having been semi-derelict since its closure in 1935, the building was saved from demolition and awarded Grade 1 'listed' status. A painfully slow restoration job has since been in progress. Meanwhile, it towers erect, but forlorn, over the various vicey goings-on of the notorious Kings Cross area; a reminder of when this part of the Capital was still considered swank.
Inside, SN is met by lan MacNeil. He is a 'top' set designer and, in conjunction with the Pet Shop Boys, has arranged some bizarreness for their current round of press and TV interviews. We embark on a quick tour of the building, before Neil - munching Indian fare in a local restaurant - arrives. First, to the impressive marble lavatories, which reek of historic urine and must require oceans of Ajax to keep nice.
Then, up and up an asthma-inducing curved staircase - past intricately tiled walls, ex-hotel rooms with bare floorboards and crumbling plaster - the faded splendour all overlooked by the high-in-the-sky domed roof. As we venture down a corridor, lan (under) states: "They wanted to play on the typical ‘journalist-interviewing-pop-group-in-their-hotel-room' situation." He points to some video monitors/screens lining the walls. "Those'll be showing their new video, and projections." He then opens the door to what will be the Pet Shop Boys' parodic interview HQ. This special room is vast, has been painted a brilliant white and benefits from expensive, subtle lighting. Two trendy-looking (era unknown) chairs are perched upon a raised, under-lit perspex platform - still being knocked into shape by a couple of technicians. It is not hard to mentally picture Neil and Chris here; new stately queens, regally holding court with gob-smacked Japanese hacks - whose pop grillings are the first scheduled to commence next week. Once more, it seems, the Pet Shop Boys have triumphantly gone over the top.
SN feels short-changed, though; a tad cheated from the 100% Pet Shop Boys media-high-jinks-experience. Why? Because the interview is to be conducted downstairs - back in the reception area. SN makes its chagrin known to a just-arrived Neil, after he has seated himself and Englishly requested his manager procure him a cup of tea. "Well, you had such an early deadline." mock tut-tuts the man, who once sang of 'never being boring'. "You couldn't wait till next week, otherwise you'd have had the whole thing. " Presumably, the 'whole thing' will include the Pet Shop Boys donning the full, ludicrous regalia of their video? (More on that in due course). "Oh, I don't know if I can be bothered really..." Neil sighs, “…putting on wigs every flamin' morning for Japanese press. We might do it for TV things, though. We just wanted to do interviews here because it's a little adventure. It's good to do every single thing you do in a different way - it's boring for a journalist to go and sit in a hotel room in the Dorchester or wherever, which all seems very routine...”
Not on your telly, Neil looks his 45 years of age. His frame is stockier than the wisp of yesteryear; his hair, once fey and curly, now short and greying with a respectable degree of male pattern baldness. Dressed in blue jeans and a well-pressed black shirt, he looks rather like a school teacher. Over the years, he has often been branded aloof and/or pretentious - usually by sorry musos who believe guitar music to be more sincere/emotive, than sounds which embrace the new-fangled. And/or by people, who harbour suspicion towards all things London - a key source of inspiration for much Pet Shop Boys' output. Actually, (one of his and Chris' favourite words, and the title of their 1987 album) Neil is down to earth, worldly-wise - a little weary at times - mostly very gregarious. The North Eastern twang is still evident.
The new Pet Shop Boys single is called I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Anymore. Neil believes it to be “A very cruel song, about the end of a relationship. When you first hear it, it sounds quite slight - it's got a very European, Giorgio Moroder quality - but the more you hear it it's quite intense really." And, it has a ridiculously long title, doesn't it? "I didn't think it was that long," he reckons, "until everyone said 'Aren't you going to shorten it?' We have the Guinness Record for the longest hit single title in British history - for Where The Streets Have No Name (I Can't Take My Eyes Off You), so [counts fingers] this is shorter." (Just).
Neil - who swapped Newcastle for London (Chelsea) in the 1970s - could now, justifiably, be termed the Ultimate Metropolitan Man. "What does that mean?" he puzzles, brow furrowed, before confessing, "I know what you mean really [laughs] of course I am!" Indeed, he is: well-dressed (Issey Miyake being his favourite designer), media-savvy, keen on, and a collector of art (Chris gave him a Damien Hirst 'spot' painting, as you do), about design and history also, plus good restaurants, what's on at theatres, and the like. One can imagine him living a 24 hour, glossy gay lifestyle, fresh off the pages of Wallpaper magazine. "It's not true," he huffs, shuffling in his chair, "I'm not Peter Mandleson. I mean, Chris lives a minimalist life - we've all seen his flat in Elle Decoration. [Truly, a chintz-free zone ]. I wouldn't live in a minimalist interior because I find it a bit bleak - I like comfort." When probed for details of his des res, Neil retorts "Oh, is this the Hello part of the interview?" before disclosing, "I have two homes... one is a house in County Durham - which I never thought I'd go back to, coming from Newcastle. But I've lived mostly in Chelsea since 1978, when I had a bedsit on the Kings Road. My London home now is a classic Chelsea Georgian house. What's in it? Well, it's got a lot of paintings - I've more recently been collecting contemporary art but l've also got pre-Raphaelite art - which I started collecting 12 years ago. [So don't show this to burglars]. I collect work by Victor Pasmore, and by Simeon Solomon, who was a very good artist. He was done for cottaging in the 1880s and sent to prison for two years. After that he lived in a working mens' hostel off the Charing Cross Road, and made his living by doing chalk drawings and selling them." Neil is, of course, au-fait with contemporary art world stars, too. For example, Sam Taylor-Wood rudely gasps on a cover version of Je T'Aime for the Pet Shop Boys' latest B-side. Neil: "Mmmm, she does a very good orgasm."
He continues, "It's funny, because Chelsea used to be dead trendy and now - this is what I like about it - it's just so not trendy. When I first lived there, there were still Punks and Teds and I used to be scared to walk about. In fact, we've written a song the for B-side of the next single called The Ghost Of Myself and it's all about when I used to live there, and be staight, and go out with this girl. I thought it was sad, but Chris thinks it's hilarious. [Laughs] He goes 'Oh, that hilarious new B-side of yours..."
Please describe a typical Tennant day. (He bats no eyelid): "Well, I get up at about 9.30 in the morning. I have breakfast [sounds like lyrics from Left To My Own Devices] usually wholemeal toast, with Olivio margarine and Marmite. Although recently I've defected from Marmite to Vegemite. When I went out with this Australian girl, who I was telling you about before, she always used to say [does quite bad Australian accent] ‘I've gotta get Vegemite!' It has got a milder flavour, I find. I used to have tea, but now I have coffee, and one of my extravagances is to buy Blue Mountain coffee from Jamaica. I love Jamaica, and it's the best coffee in the world - sort of mild So, I grind it and stick it in the cafetiere... oh, and I normally have a glass of apple juice too. In summer I'll sit on the little terrace which looks down on the garden. I bought my house because it has a garden, it's quite a small one, but quite big for Chelsea..." (Visions of Neil going all Percy Thrower abound. SN demands to know if he is green-fingered, good with... a lawn-mower, maybe? But he's on a roll, and continues the charmed life monologue, oblivious). “Then I read - the New Statesman or Times Literary Supplement. I don't like glossy magazines in the morning. [Laughs - at SN?]. Then, the 'phone rings... sometimes it's Jon Savage [journalist/author] and he says 'Who do we hate this week?' We laugh about some tragic popstar or other and erm, then normally I go to the studio or have meetings." And when dusk falls, what then? "In the evening, I normally go out to eat, or to the theatre, or the cinema or just to meet friends..." (Incidentally, Janet Street Porter is one such pal. She wanted Neil to go rambling with her in her recent TV series dedicated to such pastimes. "I refused to be filmed walking though the countryside," he scoffs, "I said 'No, it's bad for my image, I'm not getting all tweedy.’") More Pet Shop Boys-ishly, then, does he still frequent the discotheques of London Town? "Occasionally, not as much as / used to. Clubbing is a bit like pop music," he rues, "It's just an industry now. It's all so ghetto-ised." So, no cutting-the-rug for Neil, then? "Erm... I dance sometimes - more so at parties. I went to lan Mckellen's 60th birthday and danced at that. Monica Lewinsky was there, dancing next to me. I said to her 'Hi, I'm Neil Tennant' and she said [adopts yank tone] I know you are! I grew up in L.A in the '80s and we all used to listen to you guys'. She seemed very nice..."
Neil's polystyrene cup of lemon tea was gamely sipped ages ago, and our hard, plastic chairs have, by now, become increasingly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the allocated slot with this Pet Shop Boy ran out half an hour previously. His manager appears at the door, her eyebrow slightly arched. SN accelerates the pace, with a few last, hasty questions... Does Chris have a nickname for you? "Naughty Neil, because of the time The Sun called me it. We'd been doing ‘Top Of The Pops' and I'd got a bit drunk before-hand. This little BBC commissionaire appeared and said I couldn't carry my bottle of lager downstairs. I just flicked his peaked cap and then ran off down the corridor. [Laughs] Later on, I went back upstairs and he was saying ‘There he is! That's the one who was trying to hit me!' I said ‘I'm sorry, I had two bottles of Pils and I shouldn't have done that'. Then they went and sold the story to The Sun, but, you know, that's their prerogative."
Have you and Chris ever thrown a TV out of a hotel window?
"Erm... I don't think I've ever even thrown a teabag out of a hotel window."
Bet you've both agonised over the title for the forthcoming album?
"It's not going to be funny. It's not going to be called 'Bananas' - despite what it says on the internet."
When did you last wee in the street?
"It wasn't in the street, as such, but it was outside, when I was in County Durham. It was behind a dry stone wall, actually."
Five days later, Chris rings up on a crackling mobile telephone and can talk for exactly half an hour, before his lunch arrives. His deceased gran was 92 years old, and, of course, a Pet Shop Boys fan. "She had a really good life," he says, brave in the face of bereavement. And, looking on the bright-lights side, adds, "She lived in Las Vegas for a few years, you know. She used to go and watch Tom Jones, and throw her knickers at him... well, not actually throw her knickers at him, but she had a great time."
Still, Lowe-life goes on. As do the shenanigans in St Pancras Chambers, which, by now, are in full global promotion swing, with both Pet Shop Boys present. Cheeky Chris, who hails from even cheekier Blackpool, refuses to reveal his real age ("say I'm 32") and guffaws infectiously and frequently, has entered into the surreal spirit of the occasion with ease. "We did Japan yesterday and the day before, and we've moved on to England now," he breezes internationally. "With the Japanese media it’s strange, though, because none of them have commented on what’s going on here. I don’t know what they make of it all. They probably just think we live here and this is our bizarre living room.”
Has he paid a call to the aforementioned impressive marble lavatories? "The ground floor ones, you mean?" he asks - a hint of sheepishness creeping into his voice, "erm, well, we're two floors up from that so l've been secretly pissing in the wash basin on our floor - I can't be bothered going down all those stairs! Anyway, I love pissing in public places... actually, [alarmed] what magazine am I doing here? Sleaze Nation? Oh well, there you go, perfect for you..." (?)
Here is what happens in the big budget video for I Dont Know What You Want But / Can't Give It Anymore (By the way, Chris thinks the new single is about "someone being a bit demanding, not doing the washing up and stuff. “):
Neil and Chris lie in an operating theatre, while hairless people inject substances into them with syringes/ There are many test tubes - some appear to contain blood/ Neil and Chris then possess, as if by magic, big new barnets - slaggy-blond, spikey, with dark roots - and are dressed by the hairless people, with much ritualistic twintzing and tweeking/ Neil and Chris now sport small pairs of dark sunglasses, and Chris looks ever-so like Johnny Rotten (densely drawn-on eyebrows suggest something more Dennis Healy)/ Resplendent in Samurai flared-to-the-point-of-skirt-type trousers, leather gloves and wintery cagoules of mass-produced nylon, Neil and Chris step outside into a drizzly, grey land/ Locals do not threaten to twat them for such brazen flamboyance, as they too are similarly attired/ Expensive-looking pedigree dogs appear - Hey bingo! - out of nowhere/ Neil and Chris take them for a hasty, rather joyless walk, before sitting on a bench/ And looking very fucked off.
At this point, SN (MA Hons in Fine Art) earnestly waxes lyrical an highly elaborate, personal 'interpretation' of said video - far too 'complex', too mind-blowingly 'profound' and, it turns out, too shit to print here. When the deafening gales of Chris' laughter eventually die down, he offers an infinitely more pedestrian explanation: "It was a collaboration, between me, Neil, lan MacNeil and Pedro Romanyi, the director. The costumes had already been designed by lan, and it was a case of 'How do you put them in the video?'. It's based on 3 films: 'Ridicule' - there's a scene with this whole ritual of getting ready to go out. And there's '2001 A Space Odyssey' by Stanley Kubrick - the end scene of that, when they're in the living room with the illuminated floor, and then the other film is 'Clockwork Orange' which has that brutalist concrete setting. So, those are the 3 key images behind it. Oh! [suddenly gets all excited] At one point in the video, there were body doubles to stand in for us and the camera panned over their jock-strapped buttocks. Anyway, they didn't pick flattering people to stand in for us, so [laughs] we cut that bit out!"
When not busy, callously tossing strangers' rancid VHS rears aloft an editing suite floor, Chris can be found idling away the hours in various exotic locations. Like Blackpool, where his parents still reside, and which he reccomends for the cosmopolitan ambience: "It's got a great party atmosphere. It's the number 1 destination for hen and stag parties now. When you go out in Blackpool it's amazing. really. I like the way that all the girls queueing up to go in the bars and stuff have got, like, short mini-skirts on, and its December and it's freezing. No one wears a coat - even if it's raining and they're drenched." For sunnier climes he will nip over to Ibiza. "I like the clubs in Ibiza. You've got to go and get wrecked haven't you?" (Though, Body and Soul in New York is his current favourite niterie).
For this Pet Shop Boy, getting out on the road - be it leisure or work - is a joy. "I love staying in hotels," he chirps, "because, you know, you get your bed made every day. your room cleaned, fresh towels and everything. That's ideal living." He is looking forward to Creamfields in August - which the Pet Shop Boys will be headlining - and to their first UK tour for nine years, commencing in December. Plans are of the full-on persuasion, as have been previous live events: In 1989, the late Derek Jarman created a lush theatrical extravaganza for a tour of Japan, Hong Kong and the UK, their 1991 world tour was overseen by avant garde opera director David Alden and designer David Fielding, and, in 1997, artist Sam Taylor-Wood collaborated with them for a three week residency at the Savoy Hotel in London. This time, an adaptable, modular stage set is being designed by 'world famous' architect Zaha Hadid, who wouldn't normally do this sort of thing. "It's going to be great," approves Chris, "I do like a bit of architecture."
He was, however, at the vanguard of what has since become fashionable 'loft living' - long before every Tom, Dick or fashion-Heroin-addict decided that East London was chic. "I love living in Clerkenwell," he says," but I think they're overdeveloping it now. You can't move for all these buildings being converted into lofts. You get all these naff property developers moving in, so they can make a quick buck…”
Rather than simply gut an old space, Chris had his pad freshly built atop the flat roof of an old building. "I got my mates who I did architecture with at college to come in and deck it out for me. They had the idea of cutting a huge hole in the roof, and putting an opening skylight in it. I thought 'that's a mad idea, it's bound to leak', but it hasn't done: It's really nice in the summer - you open it and you can lie in bed and see the moon and the aeroplanes flying over."
But it must be a bugger to keep one's slick and streamlined urban space free of clutter? "Oh, you can't be untidy," Chris warns, "you have to put everything away all the time. I've got a cleaner, though, who comes round twice a week... and no, it's not a houseboy, before you say it! No, I'm not telling you his name, he wouldn't want to be mentioned in a magazine." SN trusts Mister Char is from a reputable showbiz-friendly cleaning agency... "Oh, he's exceptionally good," Chris insists, “I certainly get my money's worth. Actually, I don't know how much he charges. I don't even know how he gets paid... must be some direct debit thing." Does he snoop? "He probably plays my CD collection... I like compilations best, I've just bought The Clubbers Guide To Ibiza' and Ibiza Classic Cuts." Which must drive the neighbours er, mental? "Oh I don't know them... [laughs] who wants to know their neighbours?"
Having by now concluded that Chris is, without doubt, one of pop's more happy-go-lucky characters, SN seeks to probe his inner-most vaudevillian psyche. Can he do any good impersonations, for instance? (The remaining 4 minutes of interview time descend into sitcom-type chaos). "Erm... no, I'm no good at that sort of thing," he claims, "but Neil does a great one of Vic Reeves, swearing. It's very good. Actually, he could do it for you now... [shouts to Neil] Oi! Do you want to do your Vic Reeves impression?" "I'll shout it from here," yells a distant Neil. "Oh, he can't come to the 'phone at the moment," explains Chris, "he's just trying on a top hat and tails. [Hollers]: No, that doesn't look smart enough, Neil!" Smart enough for what, chimes SN? "For Elton John's dinner," Chris giggles, "it's a white tie affair. Look out for the pictures, they'll be in Hello...”
Then: "MONICA LEWINSKY IS AN ABSOLUTE CUNT!" foghorns a sinister voice in the background. Neil's 'Vic Reeves' voice. "Oh, sorry, I'm doing it in the wrong accent," he wails, "I did it in Yorkshire...” The line goes briefly muffled, as Chris passes the mobile to an in-a-flap Neil. "Oh, it's you again, is it?" he asks SN, most witheringly. "It went wrong, and I did it so good the other day. It should be Middlesborough, not Yorkshire. It should be like this: 'Monica Lewinsky is an absolute cunt!’ [Sounds more like Vera Duckworth] Oh, I've done it wrong again... oh, sorry. Honestly, I could do it so good the other day, I kept doing it and, erm... actually, she's not a cunt, she's very nice. I'll try and do it again, it's more like this..."
Chris snatches back the phone: "Yeah, he lost it, this time, but he has been doing it very well. He did it very well in the restaurant the other night. I think it takes a couple of glasses of wine and it just comes out right."
Tell us a joke Chris. "A joke... a joke…” he ponders for an eternity. "No, I don't think I know any... [to Neil] Do I know any jokes?" (Neil deigns to help him out again - still chuntering indignantly from afar about his Monica debacle). "I'm not very good at jokes..." sighs Chris. Suddenly, he perks up "We're having our lunch in a minute!" Finally, as his gastric juices begin foaming like Niagra, SN determines to glean 40 seconds worth of quality career advice - on behalf of each and every budding future pop star - from this veteran entertainer. Chris is most obliging:
"They just need to be very young and good-looking. Like we are."