Will.i.am by Danny White Page B

tangible signs of how far he had come. Thanks mainly due to the stature of the band, and partly due to the changing face of
music-industry finance, the tour was bankrolled by two corporate sponsors: technology giants Verizon and motor company Honda. Not only did the band now travel first-class and stay in elite hotels,
they were even each given a limited edition, specially manufactured Honda Civic car. Month after month they flew first-class from country to country, from continent to continent, playing to huge
venues bursting with hysterical crowds. From Hong Kong to Honolulu, Tokyo to Tel Aviv, Santiago to Shanghai, they wowed audiences. Their road crew was now a multi-team operation. Even their road
manager now had a considerable team at his command: the entire operation was benefiting from the band’s success. Gwen Stefani was support act for several dates.
    Perhaps the crowning evening of the
Monkey Business
tour came in Brazil. The band arrived at Ipanema Beach to headline a New Year’s Eve concert. They did not expect the size of
the crowd that greeted them: around one million people. Given that it was one million Brazilianpeople – often a naturally festive bunch – and the sense of occasion
that the date brought to the party, and the audience made for a breathtaking, bopping vista. At the end of the show, which Will and the band crowned with an excitable rendition of ‘Where is
the Love?’, the band feared being crushed by the audience, which began to descend en masse backstage. Will and the others were bundled into ambulances, whose sirens managed to clear a way to
safety for the headlining stars.
    Among the purely commercial work were more philanthropic moments, foreshadowing Will’s subsequent march into such activity. While in South Africa, the band took some time out of their
schedule to hold a creative event for children from deprived parts of Soweto. It was there that Will had used the example of one fourteen-year-old boy to show what was possible.
    Another lad there, called Bongeni Moragelo, was like a mini-Will. As Moragelo rapped and danced, Taboo could not help but remember the Will he had first met in California, the Will who had so
bossed those rapping competitions. The fire, hunger and sheer ability of the boy were astonishing. Will invited him to join them onstage in Johannesburg, a memorable moment for all concerned,
particularly Moragelo. Will built a charitable sponsorship relationship with the boy, to ensure he made the most of his talents.
    Also during the trip, the band met South African legend and ex-President Nelson Mandela. It was a proud day for Will, who wore a neat white suit for the occasion. He was
unimpressed by Taboo’s comparative shabbiness of dress and punctuality, chiding his hung-over bandmate with a sarcastic: ‘Hey, glad you could join us’, when his still-wayward
bandmate arrived.
    This was an understated rebuke to a bandmate and friend who Will loves, rather than anything rougher than that. It would be easy for Will to have descended into full-blown diva behaviour at such
exciting moments as huge concerts and introductions to iconic world leaders, especially after seeing how his hero James Brown had behaved in the simple surroundings of a recording studio. Yet he
has largely maintained a sense of humour and balance. His demands on the road have rarely been monstrous. They mostly centre around the space and ability to continue his songwriting and creativity
wherever he is.
    However, one way to have him turn his nose up is to present to him a lavatory with no moist baby wipes as an option. If there is only ‘dry toilet paper’, he will not be happy. To
describe why this is important, he constructs a metaphor which is best skipped by the queasy or those eating. ‘Here’s proof on why people should have baby wipes: get some chocolate,
wipe it on a wooden floor, and then try to getit up with some dry towels,’ he told
Elle
magazine. ‘You’re going