with a warning.
seven
MADNESS
IN DECEMBER 1979, we opened at the Whisky for Madness, an English ska band whose recently released first album,
One Step Beyond
, was earning them raves and a handful of hits, including “One Step Beyond …,” “The Prince,” “My Girl,” and “Night Boat to Cairo.” They hit the town with a unique sound and the fun attitude of English boys out for a good time.
At sound check, I clicked with the group’s lead singer, Graham McPherson, who went by the name Suggs. By showtime, we were flirting and having a good time watching each other onstage. Afterward, everyone from both bands went back to their hotel, the Tropicana, and partied pretty hard. I woke up the next morning in a chaise longue next to the pool. Suggs and several others were asleep in nearby chaises.
I shook my head, then checked my watch and suddenly bolted upright. I had to go to work!
After Madness left town, Suggs wrote me a few letters and sent me some English cigarettes. I knew he liked me, but I didn’t let myself imagine anything developing since I knew from following the bands in the English magazines that he was involved with punk beauty Betty Bright. Still.
A few months later, Madness returned to L.A. and I don’t know why I let myself, but I hoped Suggs would try to start something. He didn’t. I heard he might have had a dalliance with a cute waitress, but that was mere rumor and I didn’t want to turn my quaint romantic fantasy into a disappointment. Better to maintain the memory of a fun flirtation and not let it get messy.
That decision was probably smart, too, because Madness liked us andbefore they left town they invited the Go-Go’s to open for them on their UK tour that spring and summer. We jumped at the opportunity.
We knew going to the UK was one of the necessary ingredients on the way to success. It gave U.S. bands credibility. We saved for months before we could even think about affording to get there, but the prospect of touring the UK inspired one of the Go-Go’s most creative and prolific phases. During the first three months of 1980, we played at least every other week in L.A. and San Francisco, and Jane and Charlotte, separately and together, went on a writing tear that produced “How Much More,” “Lust to Love,” and “We Got the Beat,” which Charlotte wrote in about two minutes while watching a rerun of the old TV series
The Twilight Zone
.
I loved those songs the first time I heard them and thought they were going to be hits. They sounded even better when Paul Wexler, the son of Atlantic Records cofounder Jerry Wexler, helped us record a four-song EP so we would have something to sell when we went overseas.
We flew to London in April, which was on schedule, but only after Ginger, showing more dedication than her job as manager required, sold everything she had, including her Mercedes, to make sure we could get overseas. Once there, we faced another issue, namely figuring out where to stay.
We arrived without a predetermined destination. We didn’t have a travel agent and couldn’t afford nice hotels. Those days were far off and merely a fantasy then. We crammed into a couple small and cheap hotel rooms while Ginger frantically searched for a home base. After a few days, she managed to rent a shabby but charming five-bedroom house in Belsize Park.
We turned the house into a crash pad for girls. Besides the eight of us (the band, Ginger, and our two roadies, Connie and Lydia), we sublet a room to some models from Los Angeles, a girl in the Belle Stars, and another from a local punk band. Everyone shared a bedroom, except for Lydia, who lucked into a single when her roommate, Connie, went back to the States.
Lydia occasionally made extra dough by renting her room to thoseof us who wanted, or needed, privacy for the night. Boys were always prowling around the house, but we didn’t have money to do anything. It was not fun being broke. Even beer was a luxury. When we