Pop music
Hairstyle hysteria
Marcus Berkmann
Confusion reigns. Millions of pre- pubescent loins quiver with shock. Western civilisation may never recover. Yes, Take That, those clean-cut darlings of the teeny- bop market, have decided to grow their hair.
So what? Such metamorphoses may mat- ter little to the rest of us, but in the hor- monally imbalanced world of pop music they can have serious repercussions. Every photograph of the boys with short hair, for instance, is now rendered worthless. All- new posters and t-shirts must be manufac- tured, and all-new large cheques must be written by teenage girls' parents to buy all this rubbish. The career of a teeny star is but brief, and every opportunity to top up the nest-egg must be exploited to the full. But there is a problem here. Take That are five boys with rock-hard pectorals and even tans, and until now with short hair. But only three of them, by my reckoning, are converting to the new shaggy look. This lack of unanimity is surprising, especially when you consider it's probably not actual- ly their decision to grow it. Managers of pop groups are powerful men, and rarely like to delegate to mere performers. Per- haps the new look — three hairy ones, two sleek ones — is a way of keeping the group's options open, a way of ensuring that, between them, the five lads will appeal to every small girl in the country. Or `My winning the lottery has given me the finance necessary to fulfil my lifelong dream to start a terrorist group.' perhaps the managers just can't make up their minds.
If it's the latter, I can't say I'd be entirely surprised. For matters of hair are at the very heart of the pop music story, and as pop has lost its way, so have the hairstyles. When pop was thriving and confident, hair fashions were rigorous and unforgiving. In the late Sixties and early Seventies, you wore it very long and very greasy, like Charlie George of Arsenal. In the late Sev- enties, you wore it very short and spiky, and had to keep it in place with any old industrial adhesive that came to hand. That was the way of things. There was no choice. But now pop is uncertain, divided, split into thousands of tiny warring factions, and the hairstyles have reacted accordingly. No- one knows what to do. Grow it? Cut it? Dye it green? Stuff your cushions with it? The result is pandemonium, a leaderless, aimless agglomeration of disparate hairstyles that reflects the sorry state of pop music today.
In the grow-it-long camp, for example, are a very varied bunch: Mick Hucknall of Simply Red, and that smiling ninny out of Wet Wet Wet, and all the grunge people. Grunge, in fact, is rock's only recent attempt to put things back on course with a recipe of viciously loud guitars and unfor- tunate personal hygiene that is guaranteed to alienate anyone over 25. But it hasn't really caught on.
For the rest of the nation's youth are into so many different types of music that grunge has been relegated to the periph- eries. In the clubs, I'm informed, hair is still worn short. Unless it's long. Or halfway in- between. No wonder teenagers are so con- fused.
What's ridiculous is that their elders can't make up their minds either. In recent years, figures as mighty as Eric Clapton, Sting and Peter Gabriel have all grown their hair to shoulder length — only to look in the mirror one day, come to their senses and have it all cut off again. And the current situation is as confused as it has ever been. Michael Hutchence of INXS and Jon Bon Jovi, for instance, both had it long for ages before undergoing radical attention-seeking shears. Both are now growing it long again. Bono of U2 retained the greasy ponytail option for many years, but is now shorn once more. Some younger performers have given up altogether, and concentrated on growing silly little goat- like beards — a tragic abnegation of responsibility if ever there was one.
This leaves Take That and their current coiffure conundrum. Their chosen solution is, of course, no sort of solution at all compromise, in these situations, never works. But they should beware the fate of Luke Goss, once of alien-cheekboned Bros and now a struggling solo artist. He has grown his hair long, and no-one wants to know. Tricky business, pop music — when the difference between success and failure can lie in a simple haircut.
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