UB40: Signing on again

The miserable recent past of UB40 projects into the miserable present, with the band being declared bankrupt following the collapse of DEP and the wrangles with Ali Campbell.

The four members of the band - Brian Travers, Jimmy Brown, Terence 'Astro' Oswald and Norman Hassan - have been given personal insolvency orders; Ali Campbell, meanwhile, is being smug from the safety of not being in the band any more:

His spokesman said the bankruptcy court case showed Ali was right to quit the band.
"It is ironic that the very week they celebrate their first gig they have been declared bankrupt, after administration began in 2006, vindicating both Ali and Mickey Virtue's decision to leave UB40," she said.

She then went on to flip a shiny sixpence at Campbell's former bandmates and said "buy yourselves a cup of tea, why don't you?"

There's something sadly circular about a band whose very name spoke of the last Thatcherite economic collapse should be dragged down in the latest Thatchertie economic collapse.

Now, That's What I Call 1983: Let the past be, Michael Grade

Isn't a lavish celebration of the anniversary of a compilation album pushing the idea of 'a very special birthday' a little far, even for ITV? Regardless, they spun the 'useless female presenter' wheel, selected Denise Van Outen, and threw a show to mark the 25th anniversary of the first Now That's What I Call Music compilation. On television.

To be fair to ITV, they did at least invite back original artists to do their songs - normally, they'd have got Jamie Cullum and the Sugababes to have a crack at Hey You The Rocksteady Crew. But the format was still a bit of a puzzle - you might have thought that the obvious thing would have been to have 25 songs from across the years, but instead they stuck with 1983. Then, though, they selected 'the best songs from the year' rather than songs which appeared on Now 1 - which, given that there was just the one Now in 1983, released for the Christmas market, you might have thought would have represented the same thing.

True, there was a little crossover, but what are we supposed to make of the songs that were apparently good enough for ITV but not for Now? Particularly Nick Heyward, who turned up last night to do Whistle Down The Wind. Or "Nick Heyward (unless Boy George gets back to us)", as he will now be known. Whistle Down The Wind is a cracking song - and Heyward's performance was a delight - but it's hardly a song that screams 1983, is it? It would be a long production meeting at Crimewatch before they selected that song to soundtrack a particularly brutal crime from 25 years ago in order to jog people's memories.

Heyward also exhibited one of the problems of bringing back old men to sing pop hits - the high bits now lay far beyond them, in the blue-remembered hills of the teenage falsetto. It was a problem Tony Hadley had, too - it's surprising how much the line "listening to Marvin all night long" loses its impact when delivered gruffly. It's clear Hadley doesn't listen to Marvin all night long any more; I'd wager the only time he's awake past A Book At Bedtime is if his bladder calls for attention following one reckless Horlicks too many.

Hadley was there representing the entire Spandau Ballet clan - "named after a prison and a dance" guffawed Denise, "no, not Strangeways Hokey Cokey...". Actually, it might have been Wormword Scrubs Can Can - my ears welded over as soon as my brain detected the possibility someone had scripted a gag for her. Ali Campbell was also there taking a solo role for his entire band who hates him now; when Red Red Wine faded out earlier than he was expected he pressed on looking confused and a little afraid. Understandably, given what happened when his old backing group suddenly stopped supporting him altogether.

Hadley and Campbell were both shoved together at the end, as if to make it easy for the producers to edit down a version which featured just the original bands doing their songs. Perhaps the biggest coup in this respect was the reunited KajaGooGoo doing Too Shy. It was fitting for KajaGooGoo to be there, as not only was Too Shy on Now 1, but they also featured as the post-split KajaGooGoo and with one of Limahl's solo effort, so where better than a celebration of Now for the band to show they're back together, old differences settled?

Well, perhaps they're settled: Limahl seemed a little too determined to stamp his personality over the song by buggering about with it, as if he'd somehow got into his contract that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody can stop him this time. Consequently, the performance was rubbish:



Paul Young's reading of his song, however, was flawless and spookily identical to the record. You might suspect that he was miming to the original track, but given how red in the face he went when insisting that he wasn't saying that he didn't love us, either he's spent the last couple of decades on a diet of goose fat and chocolate and now even opening and closing his mouth is enough to put a strain on his heart, or he was actually singing.

Nik Kershaw looked like a man who really shouldn't have let those snoods go to charity - frighteningly, for a man who I used to really want to see cross-dress (it would have gone lovely with his eyes), he's now turned into the spit of Gary Glitter.

The most obvious missing element from the celebration was the no-show of Howard Jones' former interpretative chum Jed. New Song without someone miming out literal chains for the bit about throwing off your mental chains? It's just not right, is it?

Apparently, Jed would have liked to have come on the show, but sadly the invisible cage he is being held in proved too difficult for him to get out of in time to attend.

You know what made the evening, though? The audience, glumly clapping through songs that they once took painkillers and cider to chase from their heads. It's almost as if the last thing anyone wants right now is to be reminded how grindingly miserable a time of rising unemployment and economic malaise actually is.

UB40 split: Even less amicable than it ever was to begin with

In a battle which is less two bald men fighting over a comb, more a scrap over a combover, UB40 are now moaning that Ali Campbell is doing the songs he made famous on tour:

Guitarist Robin Campbell has slammed his older brother for his treatment of the group.

He says, "Ali is calling his tour The Best of UB40 - 1980-2008. That disgusts me. He wanted us to fall apart and disappear so that our fans would go to his shows. When we said we were touring without him, I think he was shocked.

"When our fans stuck with us, I think that was the biggest kick in the balls for him."

Robin, sweetly, doesn't seem to have realised that - unless they play neighbouring venues on the same night - it's more than possible for lovers of cod reggae to enjoy both acts without signing up to one or the other. It's not like Lassie, where the two parties are at either end of the street playing Red Red Wine to see who the audience gathers around.

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

Oh, cheers, brother. With Ali Campbell bounced out of UB40, the band have drafted in his own brother, Duncan, to fill the gap.

Duncan is something of a musician in his own right, you understand:

Duncan, a former professional spoon player, will join his other brother, guitarist Robin Campbell, in the group.

It's not clear if Duncan might be persuaded to pick up the spoons again. We'd quite like to see Red, Red Wine with spoons.

Fired, without a UB40

There's a beautiful piece in today's Times on the UB40 split. Pete Paphides (when did he drop the 'r'?) talks to Ali Campbell and tries to cut through the distrust and bitterness of the split to get to the truth. And for all Campbell's openness, it's a quote from UB40 drummer James Brown which sounds the most convincing:

“The truth is UB40 were no longer prepared to fund the extravagant lifestyles of two band members. After being given an ultimatum by both Ali and Michael [Virtue] to sack our staff, some of whom have worked with us for nearly 30 years, we chose to ignore their ultimatum and they chose to leave.”

Campbell, impressively, manages to combine name-dropping with bitterness:

On [Campbell's solo album] Running Free’s arrival in the UK Top Ten last October, he said that Paul McCartney was quicker to offer his congratulations than any of UB40. “All I got was a text off Norman [Hassan, the trombonist] that said, ‘Well done Piggy.’” Campbell’s nickname, presumably? “Yes. Well, it used to be.”

Sadly, no further light is allowed to fall on Macca's congratulations - did he call? Was it a chance meeting in a bistro somewhere? Was there a counterstrike, with James Brown rushing to get a telegram to Heather Mills applauding her progress through Dancing With The Stars?

The highlight of the encounter, though, is Campbell pretty much dropping his old chum Chrissie Hynde in it:

Just as telling, though, is the sense of a man keen to reassure himself that he has made the right decision. He points across the corridor to a studio where Chrissie Hynde – who duetted with UB40 on their version of I Got You Babe – recently rehearsed.

“She saw my band and said how brilliant they sounded. Then she says: ‘I’ve almost had it with my band as well. We went into the studio and it just sounded like the Pretenders . . . and who wants to hear that apart from four fat lesbians in Ohio? I wanna do what you’re doing.’ ”

We're sure Hynde will be delighted to be recorded as suggesting the Pretenders fanbase is restricted to the obese Sapphics of Akron. As, indeed, will her fanbase. Having done his bit to shake UB40 to pieces, it looks like Campbell is keen to destroy some other bands.

UB40 split: now even less amicable

The departure of Ali Campbell from UB40 is being handled as smoothly as a Tory MP giving dropsy to his kids.

At first, you'll recall, the band issued a statement announcing Campbell had quit to pursue solo opportunities.

Then Campbell issued a statement denying he was quitting to go solo; he was happy to continue UB40 alongside his solo work, but was leaving because he didn't agree with the way the band was managemed.

Now, UB40 have issued another statement denying Campbell's denials:

[A] spokesman for UB40 said: "The band would like to clarify that they do not have artist management and that all decisions relating to UB40 as a band - both past and present in their 30-year career - have always been by a democratic process of all eight members."

This was a process "which Ali Campbell has actively participated in" as "a fully paid-up member", the spokesman said.

The spokesman added: "Ali made a very simple decision, he chose to pursue and put his solo career over and above continuing to work with UB40."

But Campbell never said anything about there being a separate manager - he said he had problems of management difficulties. UB40's response is akin to responding to someone accusing you of driving dangerously by saying "we don't have a chauffeur; we drive ourselves.

So, do we believe Campbell or UB40? The thing is they can't both be right, and you'd have to assume that, all other things being equal, a bloke would know if he was stepping down amicably, or flouncing out in disgust.

Wonderfully, they've still got a bunch of dates to get through together.

UB40 split: not quite so amicable after all

The departure of Ali Campbell from UB40 isn't the 'happily leaving to pursure a solo career' that we had been lead to believe by the official statement.

Indeed, Campbell was surprised there was an official statement at all:

The 48-year-old denied reports that he was quitting because of arguments over his solo career. "That is not the truth. I released my first solo album 13 years ago and when I released my current solo album I had every intention of continuing to balance my solo career with my commitment to the band," he said.

"The reason for me leaving the band is that management difficulties, which have been ongoing for almost five years, had become intolerable. I have been deeply unhappy with administrative practices and with many decisions that have been made in recent years, and I have an ongoing investigation into the handling of my business affairs in relation to UB40," he said.

This could, then, be the first time a band have split over administrative differences.

Cod reggae singer cashes in chips

Ali Campbell has quit UB40 after thirty years. Campbell, it seems, wants to concentrate on a solo career; UB40 is going to continue without him, according to their official statement:

"Ali Campbell has taken the decision to focus on his solo career and in doing so, could not give his full commitment to UB40.

"The other band members of UB40 are naturally disappointed and saddened after being together as a band unit and as good friends and a family unit for almost 30 years."

"UB40 will continue to record and perform with the existing seven members.

"UB40 has never been about any one individual, but more a collective of band members, who have all contributed to create the unique sound that UB40 have become renowned for over the last three decades."

This is quite brave, isn't it? UB40's distinctiveness has always been down to Campbell's voice; take that away and you're surely just left with a fairly basic pub reggae band.

The sad thing, of course, is that had they split sometime during the first Thatcher administration, they'd probably have been recorded by historians as talented, innovative pioneers rather than grinding on into something of a punchline.