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| Robbie Williams: Russian video shows pop's licensed rogue still unpredictable Robbie Williams: Russian video shows pop's licensed rogue still unpredictable | |
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| Robbie Williams has been in trouble before, but never with an entire nation. At 42, long after outgrowing his role as British pop’s licensed rogue, he has caused uproar in Russia with his gaudy new single Party Like a Russian. The state television channel Vesti mocked a singer whose popularity “in recent years was becoming a memory rather than a reality”. | Robbie Williams has been in trouble before, but never with an entire nation. At 42, long after outgrowing his role as British pop’s licensed rogue, he has caused uproar in Russia with his gaudy new single Party Like a Russian. The state television channel Vesti mocked a singer whose popularity “in recent years was becoming a memory rather than a reality”. |
| That would needle such an intensely ambitious star if not for the fact that only last year Williams was headlining Moscow’s Olympic Stadium, and even his least successful albums have gone platinum. Williams has been bucking expectations ever since he left Take That in 1995 and was widely compared to the less successful member of Wham! “I was supposed to be Andrew Ridgeley, remember?” he told Q magazine eight years and several million record sales later. “I think I’ve proved I’m not.” | That would needle such an intensely ambitious star if not for the fact that only last year Williams was headlining Moscow’s Olympic Stadium, and even his least successful albums have gone platinum. Williams has been bucking expectations ever since he left Take That in 1995 and was widely compared to the less successful member of Wham! “I was supposed to be Andrew Ridgeley, remember?” he told Q magazine eight years and several million record sales later. “I think I’ve proved I’m not.” |
| Williams is driven in part by a ferocious need to prove his doubters wrong, whether they be critics, his former bandmates or fellow musicians, most notably Oasis. He views pop as a competitive sport. After a successful Glastonbury debut in 1998, he said: “I won the festival, didn’t I? I won.” For many years his success failed to bring peace of mind but this volatile star, now a married father of two, finally seems to have found some equilibrium. | Williams is driven in part by a ferocious need to prove his doubters wrong, whether they be critics, his former bandmates or fellow musicians, most notably Oasis. He views pop as a competitive sport. After a successful Glastonbury debut in 1998, he said: “I won the festival, didn’t I? I won.” For many years his success failed to bring peace of mind but this volatile star, now a married father of two, finally seems to have found some equilibrium. |
| Neil Tennant, one of Williams’ friends and inspirations, once theorised that all celebrities are frozen, on some level, at the age they were when they became famous. For Williams, that was 16. The son of a nightclub singer and comedian from Stoke, he joined Take That with more than enough hunger, flamboyance and livewire charisma to be a pop star. “He had a gigantic personality,” remembers music journalist Sylvia Patterson, who conducted Take That’s first major press interview. “You could tell there was something burning in him that wasn’t quite burning in the others.” | Neil Tennant, one of Williams’ friends and inspirations, once theorised that all celebrities are frozen, on some level, at the age they were when they became famous. For Williams, that was 16. The son of a nightclub singer and comedian from Stoke, he joined Take That with more than enough hunger, flamboyance and livewire charisma to be a pop star. “He had a gigantic personality,” remembers music journalist Sylvia Patterson, who conducted Take That’s first major press interview. “You could tell there was something burning in him that wasn’t quite burning in the others.” |
| But Williams struggled with life in the boy-band bubble. Believing himself “socially inept”, he shored up his confidence with alcohol, ecstasy and cocaine, which fuelled increasingly erratic behaviour. By the time he left in June 1995, aged just 21, he was “tired and scared” and experiencing “one of many nervous breakdowns”. | But Williams struggled with life in the boy-band bubble. Believing himself “socially inept”, he shored up his confidence with alcohol, ecstasy and cocaine, which fuelled increasingly erratic behaviour. By the time he left in June 1995, aged just 21, he was “tired and scared” and experiencing “one of many nervous breakdowns”. |
| As a solo artist, he was defined, at first, by what he was not. Patterson remembers seeing him perform a barbed punk-rock version of Take That’s Back For Good. “It was a gigantic middle finger to everything that he’d been before. He wanted to be as far away from them as he possibly could.” The title of Williams’ debut album, Life Thru a Lens, suggests he knew that if it flopped, there would be nowhere to hide. “I was scared that this could fail, that I could fail,” he told Q. | As a solo artist, he was defined, at first, by what he was not. Patterson remembers seeing him perform a barbed punk-rock version of Take That’s Back For Good. “It was a gigantic middle finger to everything that he’d been before. He wanted to be as far away from them as he possibly could.” The title of Williams’ debut album, Life Thru a Lens, suggests he knew that if it flopped, there would be nowhere to hide. “I was scared that this could fail, that I could fail,” he told Q. |
| The album sold modestly at first but in pop music one song can change everything. For Williams, that song was Angels, the soaring, post-Britpop ballad he wrote with new collaborator Guy Chambers. It made him a heavyweight contender and the hits kept coming – big, colourful, self-aware singles like Millennium, Rock DJ and Let Me Entertain You — even as Take That songwriter Gary Barlow’s own solo career was floundering. | The album sold modestly at first but in pop music one song can change everything. For Williams, that song was Angels, the soaring, post-Britpop ballad he wrote with new collaborator Guy Chambers. It made him a heavyweight contender and the hits kept coming – big, colourful, self-aware singles like Millennium, Rock DJ and Let Me Entertain You — even as Take That songwriter Gary Barlow’s own solo career was floundering. |
| As a songwriter, Williams had a gift for earworms and a magpie eye for different styles. “He was like a hook machine,” says one former collaborator. “And he could come up with lyrics at the drop of a hat.” As a lyricist, he was funny and candid, with a keen wit that could occasionally slip into the lazy and glib. | As a songwriter, Williams had a gift for earworms and a magpie eye for different styles. “He was like a hook machine,” says one former collaborator. “And he could come up with lyrics at the drop of a hat.” As a lyricist, he was funny and candid, with a keen wit that could occasionally slip into the lazy and glib. |
| As a character, he was simply riveting. Williams was the ideal pop star for an age when celebrity increasingly seemed like a poisoned chalice, dramatising his ambivalence towards fame as Eminem and Kanye West later would, but in the guise of a cheeky light entertainer. | As a character, he was simply riveting. Williams was the ideal pop star for an age when celebrity increasingly seemed like a poisoned chalice, dramatising his ambivalence towards fame as Eminem and Kanye West later would, but in the guise of a cheeky light entertainer. |
| He doubted his own abilities, feared live performance, hated being alone, worried about his weight, displayed a Nixonian capacity to bear a grudge, and constantly fantasised about retiring. He suffered from depression, which he treated with Effexor after giving up drink and drugs in 2001. Fame, he told his biographer Chris Heath, had made him “miserable and loaded”. | He doubted his own abilities, feared live performance, hated being alone, worried about his weight, displayed a Nixonian capacity to bear a grudge, and constantly fantasised about retiring. He suffered from depression, which he treated with Effexor after giving up drink and drugs in 2001. Fame, he told his biographer Chris Heath, had made him “miserable and loaded”. |
| “He became the first superstar of self-loathing,” says Patterson. “He was spilling his intestines to anyone who was willing to listen, and everyone was: the coke, the booze, the groupies, the isolation. He was completely willing to engage with the public about all these things. That was unusual.” | “He became the first superstar of self-loathing,” says Patterson. “He was spilling his intestines to anyone who was willing to listen, and everyone was: the coke, the booze, the groupies, the isolation. He was completely willing to engage with the public about all these things. That was unusual.” |
| It was in the music, too. “He would say things in songs and you’d think, why are people making up stories about Robbie when all you need to do is listen to his lyrics?” says the ex-collaborator. “It’s all there.” | It was in the music, too. “He would say things in songs and you’d think, why are people making up stories about Robbie when all you need to do is listen to his lyrics?” says the ex-collaborator. “It’s all there.” |
| Williams told Heath that he was “Morrissey for naff Britain”. The line reveals a fundamental tension in Williams’ work. His head admires clever English pop, especially the Pet Shop Boys and the Smiths, but his heart belongs to Saturday-night television: he is torn between Tennant and Lowe and Ant and Dec. “Sometimes he’s appeared conflicted, as if it’s not enough to just be a really popular entertainer,” says an ex-collaborator. | Williams told Heath that he was “Morrissey for naff Britain”. The line reveals a fundamental tension in Williams’ work. His head admires clever English pop, especially the Pet Shop Boys and the Smiths, but his heart belongs to Saturday-night television: he is torn between Tennant and Lowe and Ant and Dec. “Sometimes he’s appeared conflicted, as if it’s not enough to just be a really popular entertainer,” says an ex-collaborator. |
| Between Angels and 2002’s Escapology, Williams’ instincts (guided by mentor and manager David Enthoven, who died recently) were unerring. His 2001 album of American standards Swing When You’re Winning, an idea resisted by his label EMI, was a blockbuster smash. His 2002 EMI contract, reportedly £80m, remains the biggest deal in the history of the British music industry. In 2003 he set a still-unbroken record of three nights at Knebworth, eclipsing Oasis’s two. | Between Angels and 2002’s Escapology, Williams’ instincts (guided by mentor and manager David Enthoven, who died recently) were unerring. His 2001 album of American standards Swing When You’re Winning, an idea resisted by his label EMI, was a blockbuster smash. His 2002 EMI contract, reportedly £80m, remains the biggest deal in the history of the British music industry. In 2003 he set a still-unbroken record of three nights at Knebworth, eclipsing Oasis’s two. |
| Success on that scale has a way of silencing critical voices in one’s inner circle. “You have to wonder if there has ever been anyone brave enough to go against him,” says the former collaborator. Williams fell out with Chambers after Escapology and relocated to Los Angeles in an attempt to crack America. Intensive Care, his elegant 2005 collaboration with singer-songwriter Stephen Duffy, did well but the brazenly eccentric Rudebox bombed. America remained uncracked. | Success on that scale has a way of silencing critical voices in one’s inner circle. “You have to wonder if there has ever been anyone brave enough to go against him,” says the former collaborator. Williams fell out with Chambers after Escapology and relocated to Los Angeles in an attempt to crack America. Intensive Care, his elegant 2005 collaboration with singer-songwriter Stephen Duffy, did well but the brazenly eccentric Rudebox bombed. America remained uncracked. |
| After a desperately unhappy tour, Williams in effect retired for two years, during which time he entered rehab for addiction to prescription drugs. “I’d lost all my confidence,” he later told Q. | After a desperately unhappy tour, Williams in effect retired for two years, during which time he entered rehab for addiction to prescription drugs. “I’d lost all my confidence,” he later told Q. |
| After 2009’s lacklustre Reality Killed the Video Star, he rejoined Take That in a mutually beneficial arrangement: Take That got their biggest star back and Williams set the stage for a rebooted solo career. “Take That haunted him,” says the former collaborator. “He seemed to despise Gary and then suddenly they were best buddies again. He didn’t have to front the whole show but he could steal it because he had the bigger hits.” | After 2009’s lacklustre Reality Killed the Video Star, he rejoined Take That in a mutually beneficial arrangement: Take That got their biggest star back and Williams set the stage for a rebooted solo career. “Take That haunted him,” says the former collaborator. “He seemed to despise Gary and then suddenly they were best buddies again. He didn’t have to front the whole show but he could steal it because he had the bigger hits.” |
| When Williams left in 2012, the job was done. His Take the Crown album restored his lustre, with Candy his first No 1 single in eight years. Swings Both Ways, a quasi-sequel to Swing When You’re Winning, performed even better. He clearly relished being popular again. During a show at London’s O2 arena he announced: “I’m back. And I ain’t going nowhere.” | When Williams left in 2012, the job was done. His Take the Crown album restored his lustre, with Candy his first No 1 single in eight years. Swings Both Ways, a quasi-sequel to Swing When You’re Winning, performed even better. He clearly relished being popular again. During a show at London’s O2 arena he announced: “I’m back. And I ain’t going nowhere.” |
| Williams’ comeback coincided with stability in his personal life. He has two small children with Ayda Field, the American actor he married in 2010. He has mended his bridges with both Take That and Guy Chambers, who features on Williams’ forthcoming 11th album, Heavy Entertainment Show. Yet he remains a complicated character with a provocative spirit, vividly illustrated by the graphic anecdotes he told on The Graham Norton Show last week. | Williams’ comeback coincided with stability in his personal life. He has two small children with Ayda Field, the American actor he married in 2010. He has mended his bridges with both Take That and Guy Chambers, who features on Williams’ forthcoming 11th album, Heavy Entertainment Show. Yet he remains a complicated character with a provocative spirit, vividly illustrated by the graphic anecdotes he told on The Graham Norton Show last week. |
| “Everyone on the couch is passing out because they can’t believe someone on this level is talking about this stuff,” says Patterson. “It’s very rare in pop. He’s as stable as he’s ever been but he’s still unpredictable.” | “Everyone on the couch is passing out because they can’t believe someone on this level is talking about this stuff,” says Patterson. “It’s very rare in pop. He’s as stable as he’s ever been but he’s still unpredictable.” |
| She thinks he has become a case study for modern celebrity, commenting on its absurdity and cruelty from the inside. “Because he’s been famous for so long, he’s almost the definition of fame-damaged and he’s willing to share that with everybody. He keeps us very interested in his psyche with the added bonus of giant hits, and that’s all anyone can ask from a pop star.” | She thinks he has become a case study for modern celebrity, commenting on its absurdity and cruelty from the inside. “Because he’s been famous for so long, he’s almost the definition of fame-damaged and he’s willing to share that with everybody. He keeps us very interested in his psyche with the added bonus of giant hits, and that’s all anyone can ask from a pop star.” |
| At Knebworth in 2003, Williams told the vast crowd: “You’ve watched me grow up. I want to grow old with you lot.” He was not yet 30. Now it seems as if he is getting what he wanted – if not, perhaps, in Russia. | At Knebworth in 2003, Williams told the vast crowd: “You’ve watched me grow up. I want to grow old with you lot.” He was not yet 30. Now it seems as if he is getting what he wanted – if not, perhaps, in Russia. |
| Robbie Williams in a minute | Robbie Williams in a minute |
| Born: Robert Peter Williams, on 13 February 1974 in Stoke-on-Trent | Born: Robert Peter Williams, on 13 February 1974 in Stoke-on-Trent |
| Career: Joined Take That in 1990, left under a cloud in 1995 and rejoined in 2009, leaving in 2012. Established his solo career with his signature hit Angels in 1997. Has released 10 multi-platinum albums, sold more than 75 million records, and won a record 17 Brit awards. Has three streets in Stoke named after his songs. | Career: Joined Take That in 1990, left under a cloud in 1995 and rejoined in 2009, leaving in 2012. Established his solo career with his signature hit Angels in 1997. Has released 10 multi-platinum albums, sold more than 75 million records, and won a record 17 Brit awards. Has three streets in Stoke named after his songs. |
| High point: The trio of commercial triumphs, Sing When You’re Winning, Swing When You’re Winning and Escapology, capped off by three nights at Knebworth. | High point: The trio of commercial triumphs, Sing When You’re Winning, Swing When You’re Winning and Escapology, capped off by three nights at Knebworth. |
| Low point: The failure of his 2006 album Rudebox, followed by rehab and temporary retirement. | Low point: The failure of his 2006 album Rudebox, followed by rehab and temporary retirement. |
| What he says: “I’m middle England. I’m countless cabaret acts that I saw when I was growing up. As much as I have affectations to be Chuck D and Johnny Rotten and Liam Gallagher, I’m Norman Wisdom and I’m Roger De Courcey and I’m Rod Hull.” | What he says: “I’m middle England. I’m countless cabaret acts that I saw when I was growing up. As much as I have affectations to be Chuck D and Johnny Rotten and Liam Gallagher, I’m Norman Wisdom and I’m Roger De Courcey and I’m Rod Hull.” |
| What they say: “He’s grown up a hell of a lot. I was so happy that he got married because that’s what he needed – someone to keep him grounded.” – Howard Donald, Take That | What they say: “He’s grown up a hell of a lot. I was so happy that he got married because that’s what he needed – someone to keep him grounded.” – Howard Donald, Take That |