Bob: Because
pop is ruthless, and I agree with that really. You have your
moment where you define that period and other bands, if you're
having hits, they look at what you're doing and think, ok,
that's what it is at the moment. And then the audience moves on
and you think you're still ahead of the audience, or you think
you're bringing them with them, but, intellectually you
understand what's happening but creatively it's difficult
because you still think you're working pretty well and they're
not interested.
Michael:
But I suppose also too in your case, I mean, whatever you have
achieved in music has been spectacularly overwhelmed by what you
have achieved in other areas.
Bob:
In the social arena yeah. I mean there's no comparison with me
and the Beatles but that's what happened to them in that their
music at the beginning was absolutely superb but what made them
extremely famous was their accents and their haircuts and their
suits. They went outside the narrow confines of the day. And
when I was in The Rats I was on your show and stuff and then the
Band Aid and Live Aid stuff happened and then the entire country
joined in with that. And then you become known for that and as I
say it's fair enough.
Michael:
Is that you got known as Saint Bob, is that a burden to you,
Saint Bob?
Bob:
It got bad when it first started because I didn't know what to
do with it at all. I'd always been called several things
Michael, you know? (Laughter) Generally this thing would happen,
you'd be walking along a street and older ladies would come
along touch the hem of my garment (touches Michael's sleeve) and
they'd start crying (gestures for them to go away) (laughter)
And that was very disconcerting and they'd put upon you things
that you didn't really represent or things that you couldn't
possibly live up to and that's, you know confining and a bit
scary. And I wrote a book and that did well and I hoped to
deflate the whole cult of personality that had built up but it
really didn't. But over the years they've got used to me.
Michael:
Let's go back to those formative years then. It seems to me that
reading about you that your childhood was defined by the sudden
death of your mother when you were seven. It seems to me that it
was a crucial point in your life that changed you.
Bob:
I think that it would be in anyone's life. I mean, my Mum woke
up one night and my Dad who's called Bob as well and she said,
'Bob I've got a headache' and dead. And my dad was forty one,
she was forty, he was destroyed. And that for my two sisters and
for my dad who was ninety in November was I suppose for any
family the moment. And there is a perpetual sense of, loss isn't
the word and emptiness isn't the word but there's a void
somewhere and I assume that it must be at that point that it
happened. And it's not filled with God, it's not a God-shaped
hole or a Mum-shaped hole, it's not. Love puts it at ease and
I'm sort of melancholic and gloomy by disposition anyway, fairly
famously, so that's where you root it.
Michael:
And how did it manifest itself when you were a child? Did it
make you an awkward child?
Bob:
I was OK in school up until about the age of ten and then for
some reason I just opted out and I also developed asthma at
about eleven. And I think it possibly, apparently classically,
you know Dorothy Parker wrote interestingly about this, when you
actually need someone around like your Mum and Dad and they're
not there you develop this sense of breathlessness and that was
the asthma which I grew out of at the age of about nineteen or
twenty.
Michael:
But you were a lonely child weren't you? You must have been
because your Dad was away a lot of the time on the road selling
stuff.
Bob:
Dad sold towels and things like that so he'd go away on Monday
and come back Friday. And my sisters were older and my elder
sister got very ill and she was given six months or something to
live and so my father was really going mad and we really had no
money. It was hard for him, he's a great man and anyway that was
resolved in a bizarre manner and my middle sister was the school
swot so she stayed in to study and so largely, yeah, you bring
yourself up. So the upside is you learn to be organised, you
need to organise your life. And you learn to be independent but
it's not independent, you become very dogmatic more than
independent. There was no one there to temper my opinion to say,
no you're wrong.
Michael: Yeah,
I was going to wonder where that came from that awkward streak,
that cussedness.
Bob: That
would be the Irish probably! (Laughter)
Michael:
It's not just the Irish, it's more than that. Irish is gift of
the gab but this is something more you're got. What I like about
you is that you're fearless and that you have an opinion and
you're not frightened to put it forward, politically correct or
not. And that's a great gift in my view, I mean not many of us
are that brave and I just wondered where that came from?
Bob:
Well it could be that but I'm not brave. I mean I'm often afraid
when I go into these big meetings, that I'll make a big fool of
myself. And often I do and I go away and I think (tuts) but
somebody says something that is wrong or you can't agree with
then you must say it and from that point you get discussion and
things can be worked out. And it was ever thus, I mean I wasn't
particularly interested in sports but I always liked politics
and music and I hit the right year when I was eleven in 1963 or
4.
Michael:
Why was that the right year?
Bob:
Because music came to the fore in the British Isles, it became
the main cultural arbiter. And it was to do with politics
largely.
Michael: Did
you ever in that period of school and after the loss of your
Mum, I also read something extraordinary somewhere that after
the loss of your Mum you actually used to walk round on your
hands and knees.
Bob: I
forgot about that, my sister reminded me.
Michael:
What was that about?
Bob:
For some reason I took to walking around like this. ('Walks'
with hands on floor behind him). (Laughter)
Michael: You
went everywhere like that?
Bob: Yeah,
I'd get on a bus and go upstairs like it. (Laughter) And after a
while, my father used to just put up with it. We'd be walking
along the street and I'd be walking along like that. (Laughter)
I mean he is an extraordinary man. And that went on for about a
year. But I did forget about that until my sister reminded me.
But I don't know why, and I don't know why I did it. Yes of
course now I know. Anything to get attention of course.
Michael:
That was is was it?
Bob:
I suppose so, why else would you possibly do it? (Laughter)
Unless you want to come back as a crab in a later life.
(Laughter)
Michael:
We'll talk in just a moment. Back soon for more of a chat and a
song from Bob Geldof. (Commercial Break)
Michael: Welcome
back. Bob, I've known you for a while now and I think it's fair
to say, you're not a slave to fashion are you? (Laughter)
Bob:
I brought three suits here with me this evening and a few
shirts.
Michael:
You do look smart.
Bob:
The thing is I do like clothes but I look crap. (Laughter) And
when we were talking earlier about when you're bringing yourself
up. I think this is it, all theory but, when you're a little boy
and you're going off to school by yourself and doing your
breakfast and all that, really you just put on the first clothes
to hand and if there's no one there to iron your shirt, aged
nine you're just not going to do it, you're not going to iron
your shirt. But you don't really pay attention to it and you
just grow up without that sense for it. And I'm not saying
that's an excuse for it now and I've got a huge floppy face and
it's all baggy. (Ahh from audience). No but that's it, imagine
if I stood beside Mr Dapper here.
Michael:
Mr Dapper! Cheeky sod. (Laughter) Did you have any sense in
those days though of what you wanted to be? You said that you
wanted to be famous, that you wanted to be known. I mean that's
a perfectly normal thing.
Bob: No,
I didn't say that then. When the Rats started in one of the
first interviews they said, 'what do you want to get out of
this?' And I said ' I want to get famous, get rich and get
laid.' Which was not what you're supposed to say in the middle
of that punk kind of thing that was going on but I said it to
annoy people.
Michael:
What about the first gigs? What do you remember about the first
gigs you did?
Bob: I
remember them perfectly, we did Halloween night in the classroom
in 1975. And I remember in one of your first interviews you
said, 'how would you describe your voice?' And I said, bloody
awful and that's what I thought really. I'd never heard myself
and we were making a racket, a good racket and Gerry the guitar
player came and said we'd got a gig and I really was frightened
because I just thought it was a bit of fun. And I said, how
much? And he said thirty quid. And I said, you've got to be
kidding, sixty at least. And so he came back the next day and
said, OK then do it so I was done for. And we pitched up and
we didn't know how long to play for so we'd got three hours
worth of stuff. And we'd thought of this name, the Nightlife
Thugs because I thought you needed a name that suggested
something before you've even heard the band. But I'd been
reading Woody Guthrie's book Bound for Glory and I'd come
upon a bit when he was eight and he was in a gang called
the Boomtown Rats and so I started with my hat and scarf
and coat on. And we started with a disaster because our guitarist
forgot the opening riff. So we were just staring there. So
I turned my back on the audience and gradually the sound
of clapping filtered through the racket and so I turned around.
And the coat, hat and scarf came off and we took a break
after an hour and fifteen minutes and I'd read about this
stuff happening in England in a magazine called Forum that
Alistair Campbell was editor of. And this girl walked up
to me, there was thirty people in the classroom and said,
'I'd like to shag you'. (Laughter) So this was the career
for me, clapping and shagging! (Laughter) And so I went to
the blackboard and wrote Boomtown Rats on the board. And
the second gig there was a hundred and twenty people in the
pub in P******* in the Dublin mountains.
Michael: And
more girls?
Bob:
Well that's the thing, they were going completely berserk. We
were playing on the floor and they were looking at us
differently. And I looked round at my friends and they look
different. It was like I was watching them on television. I was
singing and looking around and no one in the audience was seeing
Geldof, because no one ever called me Bob or Robert, I was
always Geldof. I wasn't that, I was something else. And I looked
up to get a pint and the barman was dancing up and down the bar
and I just thought, I'm never going to be anything else.
Michael:
Did you take the lady up on her offer?
Bob:
Erm, yes. (Laughter)
Michael:
And?
Bob:
Well I was so freaked out. I mean, it was alright, I didn't blow
it completely. (Laughter) But you know, this was Catholic
Ireland 1975 and it was so great because you know you think you
have to be a gentleman and say, 'shall I see you tomorrow' and
she said 'no'. So it was your first rock and roll shag and she
just wanted to do it and I just wanted to do it and no more need
be said which was great at the time. (Laughter)
Michael: Is there a pecking order? I mean I assume you
get the first choice and then?
Bob:
Absolutely!(Laughter) And then the lead guitarist. But then you
know if there's a points competition going on the singer always
gets handicapped. So I was always pulled back.
Michael: Did
you dream of coming to London? Did you dream of escaping from
Ireland?
Bob:
Yeah, London was the centre of the universe don't forget in the
mid 60s. It really was, anything that was happening was here.
And I felt I wanted to be there more than anywhere else and that
turned out to be true and when I finally pitched up here a felt.
Michael:
This sense that you had from the beginning though, politics and
music. I mean, music in the strict sense has not changed
anything has it? It changes the way people feel, the way people
move but it doesn't change much politically. But what you've
done, you proved that you can use your fame and celebrity to
bring together a change that did change things. And that was
Live Aid.
Bob: Well Live Aid did that but I don't agree
with you, I think that music does change things.
Michael: You
think so, you think a song changes a politicians mind?
Bob:
Yeah I do?
Michael: What
examples would you give me?
Bob: A
couple of Bob Dylan songs. I think that music articulates a
change that's happening in society before a society knows it's
happening within them. So when you have the Beatles for example.
Michael:
But that reinforcement more isn't it?
Bob:
It is but without being tossy about it, you know, what an artist
does, and I'm excluding myself from this but they tap into that
which is happening anyway and articulates it back to society and
if that becomes a hit it becomes a very powerful political tool
because a million people perhaps are buying that one song and
that can be used. And so when people are marching in the streets
and singing Blowing in the Wind or the Times are a Changing or
something like that.

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