SPANDAU BALLET WANT YOU TO DANCE. THAT’S ALL.
On the day that Bobby Sands finally starved himself to death and two hours after Spandau Ballet’s first ever press conference I’m in the coffee shop of a Manhattan midtown hotel arguing with Gary Kemp— Spand’s composer and synthesizer/guitar player.
SPANDAU BALLET WANT YOU TO DANCE THAT’S ALL.
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Iman Labadedi
On the day that Bobby Sands finally starved himself to death and two hours after Spandau Ballet’s first ever press conference I’m in the coffee shop of a Manhattan midtown hotel arguing with Gary Kemp— Spand’s composer and synthesizer/guitar player. A blanded-out piano tinkles continuously in the background, becoming increasingly irritating; various Spandau Ballets and fashion designers show up and then disappear, and as they finally make their way to our table, the coffee shop goes quiet and heads turn to watch these exotically dressed weirdos. Our waitress takes it all in stride, but can’t make out what they’re saying to save her life. Gary and I talk in circles for ten minutes; finally, in exasperation, Gary says: “Ask me a proper question. Forget about the music; ask me something about the band, or about the people you met today. Ask me how Spandau Ballet started. That’s a really easy one. Come on, I’ll help you along. How did Spandau Ballet start? Alright?” Alright.