Post by nooks on Jul 29, 2009 8:33:27 GMT -5
SPIN Doctor has immersed himself in the hurly-burly of rock'n'roll excess this week by spending idle moments in the company of Andy Taylor, guitarist, heart-throb and self-confessed wild boy of Duran Duran.
When I say "in the company", I mean I've been traipsing merrily through the pages of his new autobiography, Wild Boy: My Life in Duran Duran But Not in Power Station, the Supergroup I Was in That Sucked in Ways No One Up to That Point Had Thought a Rock Band Could Suck.
Not all of that title has made it on to the cover of Andy's book, but in the future, when I look back on reading it, I will always think of it in that way. Anyway, Andy has quite a lot to say about being a member of Duran Duran and indeed about the scrapes and capers he and his four colleagues got into during their visits to Australia in the glorious 1980s.
There were appearances on Countdown, for example, where Andy and the lads befriended "a lovable old bloke" called Molly Meldrum. At a party in Molly's Melbourne home, Andy got to meet a lovable middle-aged bloke, Dennis Lillee.
Crazier still, Andy lets slip the fact that on numerous occasions Down Under, the Duran posse went to nightclubs. And got drunk. And took drugs. I am not making this up. It's all there in black and white. Andy's most startling revelations, however, relate to matters of the ladeez.
The famous five, during their heyday, had a competition to see who could bed the most babes. Australia fared particularly well -- or badly, depending on your point of view -- in that respect. "We soon found out that the local sheilas were just as mad for us as the English girls were," quoth Andy, "except they were much noisier and were never afraid to get their kit off."
Clearly our sheilas couldn't help but be bowled over by Andy's charm and sophistication. Andy goes on at length about the queues of gorgeous sheilas lining up outside the dressing-room door at gigs, hoping for a kit-off canoodle with one of those inside.
At every opportunity, by Andy's account, Duran Duran went out of their way to be helpful. Where he stops short is in naming names or detailing in any way the kind of antics favoured by wild boys of the Duran persuasion during moments of intimacy.
Now it strikes me, from the evidence provided, that there must be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of middle-aged sheilas out there for whom planet Earth may or may not have moved all those years ago.
Since Andy goes all coy in print just at the crucial moment, perhaps it is down to the sheilas to reveal the salacious shenanigans that went on at Duran central in those heady days. Sheilas of Australia, a nation awaits.
www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,24601755-5016490,00.html
When I say "in the company", I mean I've been traipsing merrily through the pages of his new autobiography, Wild Boy: My Life in Duran Duran But Not in Power Station, the Supergroup I Was in That Sucked in Ways No One Up to That Point Had Thought a Rock Band Could Suck.
Not all of that title has made it on to the cover of Andy's book, but in the future, when I look back on reading it, I will always think of it in that way. Anyway, Andy has quite a lot to say about being a member of Duran Duran and indeed about the scrapes and capers he and his four colleagues got into during their visits to Australia in the glorious 1980s.
There were appearances on Countdown, for example, where Andy and the lads befriended "a lovable old bloke" called Molly Meldrum. At a party in Molly's Melbourne home, Andy got to meet a lovable middle-aged bloke, Dennis Lillee.
Crazier still, Andy lets slip the fact that on numerous occasions Down Under, the Duran posse went to nightclubs. And got drunk. And took drugs. I am not making this up. It's all there in black and white. Andy's most startling revelations, however, relate to matters of the ladeez.
The famous five, during their heyday, had a competition to see who could bed the most babes. Australia fared particularly well -- or badly, depending on your point of view -- in that respect. "We soon found out that the local sheilas were just as mad for us as the English girls were," quoth Andy, "except they were much noisier and were never afraid to get their kit off."
Clearly our sheilas couldn't help but be bowled over by Andy's charm and sophistication. Andy goes on at length about the queues of gorgeous sheilas lining up outside the dressing-room door at gigs, hoping for a kit-off canoodle with one of those inside.
At every opportunity, by Andy's account, Duran Duran went out of their way to be helpful. Where he stops short is in naming names or detailing in any way the kind of antics favoured by wild boys of the Duran persuasion during moments of intimacy.
Now it strikes me, from the evidence provided, that there must be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of middle-aged sheilas out there for whom planet Earth may or may not have moved all those years ago.
Since Andy goes all coy in print just at the crucial moment, perhaps it is down to the sheilas to reveal the salacious shenanigans that went on at Duran central in those heady days. Sheilas of Australia, a nation awaits.
www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,24601755-5016490,00.html