Pop music
Commercial breaks
Marcus Berkmann
Remember 'musical differences'? Back in the Seventies, when groups split up all the time, no phrase evoked more clearly the atmosphere of mutual loathing that characterised a group's death throes. They begin in hope, they end in lawsuits and punches thrown in airports. Musicians grow out of groups. They grow out of each other. The gang mentality that sees you through your teens and early twenties is superseded by more self-centred considerations. What's my percentage? What's his? Before you know it, bassist and drummer are only conversing through lawyers and the singer is quietly negotiating a solo deal. The press release speaks of 'irreconcilable musical differences' and everyone else has a good laugh.
You don't hear much of musical differ- ences these days. Indeed, the recent disso- lution of Take That had an altogether different provenance. For several months rumours had surrounded the teen group's future. They had been together six years a mere burp in the endless careers of Pink Floyd or the Rolling Stones, but an eternity for a group whose main appeal was youth and freshness. Bone structures alter — as, more alarmingly, do haircuts. As soon as a teen group starts treating beards as a seri- ous option, its days are invariably num- bered.
The departure of Robbie last year tragically, no one can now remember his surname — made headlines and probably hastened the group's end. But there were no 'musical differences'. From interviews since the announcement, it's clear that the group's members still get on famously. No, this was purely a business decision. It may not even have been a decision the band made themselves.
This is revolutionary. In the past, even the most carefully manipulated bands decided when they had had enough. In one or two cases, it was virtually the only deci- sion they had ever made. By that stage, however, most such bands had achieved all they were ever going to achieve, and their managers didn't much care if they split up or not. Take That, however, have a song- writer of genuine talent in Gary Barlow, and the other members are probably popu- lar enough to kickstart between them at least one successful solo career. Take That didn't split because of musical differences. They split because, commercially, it was time to.
It just shows how nakedly commercial pop has become. We all know that the music industry is rapaciously capitalistic even Mrs Thatcher was eventually enjoined to praise its hearty contributions to the bal- ance of payments. But at least the musi- cians have always liked to pretend that some notion of art is involved. The Take That story shows that such pretence is sim- ply no longer necessary. When asked where he would like to be in a year's time, Gary Barlow said, 'In the Top Five in America.' His solo career has been inevitable since the worldwide success of 'Back for Good' last year. Most groups would claim to have some sort of artistic agenda. Take That have a business plan.
And they are not alone. The girl group Eternal recently shed one of its members, Louise, who has swiftly moved on to a suc- cessful solo career under the same manag- er. Again, no musical differences were involved, and Louise herself talks cheerful- ly of her good relations with her former colleagues. No, Louise left because she was the only white member of the group, and her whiteness was a barrier to the group's records being played on black American radio. (Apartheid is dead, except in the music industry.) The group seek American success, so Louise had to go. It was all part of the business plan. Now the group's man- ager has two lucrative acts where before he had only one, and the group's fans aren't remotely bothered. Musical differences have been settled, once and for all.
`We've got the same baa-code '
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