Post by nooks on Jul 31, 2009 14:42:50 GMT -5
Andy Taylor of Duran Duran - Exclusive interview
Jon Howells of Waterstone's catches up with Andy Taylor, to discuss among other things, his brand new autobiography, Wild Boy.
I joined Andy Taylor for lunch with his publishers. He was in an effusive mood, holding court on anything and everything from Duran Duran now and then, to the state of the recording industry, Amy Winehouse and Newcastle United. He was happy to answer questions on his history with Duran Duran, but any expected bitterness didn't show - more an air of frustration and disappointment that things didn't work out as well as they could have. I spoke to him after lunch for Waterstones.com, about his book and the reasons for writing it, how Duran Duran started, how it ended and what working with some of the greatest musicians in rock and pop history has meant to him.
A lot of the time when rock stars and other celebrities write a memoir, they'll commit to a couple of days publicity and that's it, but I get the sense you're taking this really seriously and are really going to 'work' the book. Why is it so important to you to get this story out there?
This is my day job at the moment. I'm not on the road. I've been writing and recording music but I don't have any commitment to be anywhere or do anything on that side. So I decided to do this properly. You only really get one chance, one bite at the cherry to tell the story of your life so you have to stand behind every word, especially with the amount of interest in the book. It's more than you get for a new record in some instances. I'm used to big PR campaigns where you sustain momentum to get your message over. It takes more than a few days, and a book has a different dynamic to a record, you can't go on TV reading a few pages the way you'd go on and play a song, you can only talk about it and give it a presence.
Word of mouth seems to be really strong and I'm enjoying it - at the end of the day I'm lucky to be asked to do it. Look at what a lot of the guys that do what I do end up in - one of the guys from a recent boy band is a flight attendant now. It's a brutal business now. So if you're in a position, after 30 years, to do something interesting and that will provoke the public, you've got to do it, stick your head above the water and say "come and get it, come and get me."
The thing I wasn't expecting was the very private, raw emotional detail in the book about your parents. Was it difficult putting that down on paper?
Yeah - my fathers dead, my mum's still alive, but most of my family that were around when I was a child are dead now. It is so fundamental to who you are, how you make decisions that, say, took you to Birmingham. I think you have to explain that this goes back a long way - with all the members of Duran Duran. It all goes back to when we were very young watching Top of the Pops and The Old Grey Whistle Test, and that aspiration to become a pop star. The little triggers you get as a teenager that make you devote your time to it, what happens in your life, who allows you the space to misbehave, stay up late, go to concerts. And when you explore it, you remember what happened; you know what happened at Christmas when your mum left - you got an electric guitar. My mother probably wouldn't have put up with the noise, but my father worked on a building site and he was happy I had found something to take that anger out on, he was totally supportive.
Where you are from and who you are, it's the most fundamental thing about anything you do later in life, particularly creatively. Oasis, you look at them - it's where they're from, it's who they are, it's something you can't lose sight of. So when you are trying to explain the A to Z of 30 odd years of Duran Duran then the whole journey is important and the people who are interested want to know. It's the time you have to explain the whole thing, how some of the earlier stuff puts the way you are later in life into some context. For instance, everyone knows we took drugs, but unless you admit the highs and lows around that, put some reason around it - the consequences - the public see through it. You can't just jump in with "here we go, Birmingham 1980, I'm gonna be a pop star, girls with big knockers and all that" - you've got to get to that point. The bit before the band formed was so important to me, without it I wouldn't have been the musician I am. I was lucky, my father had great tolerance - he let me say, "I'm not going to school", he told me as long as I was doing well at what I wanted, then forget school. In the North-East, in the 1970s, that was energising.
I had a friend over the road who took Mick Ronson's place in the Spiders From Mars who was a phenomenal guitar player and taught me all sorts of little tricks that helped unlock the magic that you needed to know. That fundamental honesty to the audience is something that, for all our achievements, is the centrepiece of what you do. Births, deaths and marriages - underneath it all it's the story of the life we all live, we're all the same, so I've tried to connect to people who have the same kind of experience. Grief - everyone can understand that - the day you go back to work after the death of a parent: it's just the same for me. You want to put people in a frame of mind where they can understand you're human, and this is a human story and not just a hedonistic waste of money. You try and get a balance to try and justify your behaviour.
I got the sense that once the band gelled, it all happened really quickly - did it seem like that to you?
I joined in April, May 1980, Simon in May, June. By July we'd written everything and done our first gig, and we got the deal in December. The day John Lennon died we were talking to EMI - there was 6 months from committing to the band to getting the deal - in December 1980 we started recording Planet Earth - I mean absolutely phenomenally quick. I remember going to Birmingham and I knew there was something right about it and 6 months later I'm going "d**n, I was right". There was such kudos in getting a record deal back then, it was a dream; the retainer, money to record, marketing money - not like now when it's all about cutting corners. It came so quickly - the first two songs were Girls on Film and Planet Earth, then the rest of what became the first album. I remember the guys from the record company saying "they've got side A and side B, and more, and it's all their own material." I remember Dave Ambrose, the A and R man saying - "You're a teenager! It's all your own material?" And I'm like "Well, yeah, so what? Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" And Nick Rhodes and me were very strong about that - nothing else from no one else - even The Beatles first album had cover versions, and the Stones covered Beatles songs. Maybe we should have written for Spandau Ballet!
That's an interesting point. Obviously there was some rivalry there, some real, some fabricated, but nowadays Spandau's first single is relatively obscure while Planet Earth is instantly recognisable and vital. Any real idea why DD's song lasted and the others didn't?
There was only one writer in Spandau, Gary Kemp, and Tony didn't write lyrics. Simon did, so the diction of his expression was his own so it's always going to be more convincing. The shared thing of writing meant that a lot of ideas would come in and it was not just dependant on one guy. But I think a lot was down to me and Nick and our kind of commercial instinct. Nick Rhodes has commercial instinct and grinds it out. I have it and play it out. But that lesson I had in the bands before Duran Duran, doing cover versions for years, learning how songs are written by playing them - we had 150 songs in our repertoire, changing the playlist every night, playing for 6 hours a night - you learnt how chords and keys work in certain ways, you learn the technique and skill. If you listen to Save a Prayer, the chord progression in that is very generic, you find it in a lot of Sam Cooke or Sam and Dave songs. It's a used progression in a sense but there are certain things that just work and we had a very intense sense of what a pop song was, what a hit was.
You're very kind in the book about everyone's contribution to the songwriting, but that songwriting has never got the respect it's due in the UK. It has overseas, especially in America: is that a cause of bitterness for you or the others guys?
When we were younger we really did get pissed off with the kind of elitism in the NME and the established critics of the day because we had amazing success - 7 platinum albums in 4 years in America, and I don't think any other UK act could make that claim. All self-penned apart from the Bond song, which we wrote with John Barry - and writing with John Barry isn't exactly chopped liver, it's an accolade, and it's still the biggest Band song ever. And you look at all that and you go, "they hate us?" But that was because we were in control, we were young, we could do what the fcku we wanted and they couldn't say "here's a new song for you" they had to say, "give us a new song." We had all the power, and we were probably pretty thingyy with it. But we were the masters of our own destiny because of the creative control we had, no one can take credit for any of it - it was all our own invention.
When we took the Reflex to Capitol, the Nile Rogers remix, they said, "we're not releasing it, it's too black". What? I mean, a racist statement in itself! But he pushed the edges of production, and it turned out to be Capitol Records' first hit for 2 years - they couldn't stop us. Power Station? They didn't want to know - didn't want to know - we said, fcku it, we'll take it to another label. They said "oh, well hang on". 2 million copies later... Some Like it Hot was number one in the US, Get It On number 2. Even when you were successful they still wouldn't respect you. I used to think, if Bob Dylan came up to you, or Freddie mercury, they'd say "yes sir". But because we were 23 they wouldn't. There was a big old Texan at Capitol, and he said to us "you'll be long out of here before I am" - 6 months later he was gone, too old school. I don't think the label were great supporters of our credibility, nor were the media.
Second time around we got all the accolades. I remember walking into the MTV awards and no one took much notice, but when we walked out and that street was full of the Americans hollering for us - hip hop guys, the lot - that started a chain reaction of getting awards. We even turned one down, the World Music Awards, because it was one too many. The Ivor Novello for songwriting was cool - that's about achievement, that's worth a lot. And the Brits was nice - I mean, that's home, isn't it? I remember going to the Brits with Rod Stewart in '93 when he got the same award, and I watched and thought, "I'll never get one of them". So it still means something to get the recognition we didn't back then. I was never bitter we didn't get it back then, but I thought it was cynical that, say, The Smiths would. I mean, do sales not count for anything? That's one of the reasons we did Power Station, and spent a lot of time with Robert Palmer and people like that to prove I was more than a one trick pony, and Power Station really did do that for me. It helped me stretch myself, and learn to write hits with others. I learnt so much from him.
There's obviously a huge affection from you, and John Taylor, for Robert Palmer.
Yeah, I spent an enormous amount of time with him. I was in an interview with him once and he was asked "Why do you like Andy?" and I thought "I can't wait to hear this one, cos Robert don't like anyone one". And he said "Andy fookin' takes care of business". And I thought, "that'll do, that's about the best thing you can say of anyone". Years later, just before he died, I played a gig with him and we'd been a bit naughty and stayed up late and I thought I was a bit ragged up on stage, but he said "you didn't fookin drop a beat". He was very critical, razor sharp ears, done the same as me, gigged as a kid, did all the cover versions, but the voice never went, he was tough, a road guy. Really clever and opened up the possibility for me to try other things - have a go at drums, keyboards. And meeting Bernard Edwards, the challenge of working with the second most successful record producer in America after Quincy Jones - he had such confidence. They'd go for you if you got it wrong, had that James Brown work ethic, and it raised your game hugely - can I get good enough to hang with these guys, can I go all the way up to that level? Bernard would get you in the room and push you and push you and wouldn't let go if he had that faith. I remember taking him to meet Rod Stewart and we started jamming and Rod said, "Fackin' Ell Andy, they're good", and he went on to make about four albums with Bernard after that. We did a lot of things together right up to the mid-90s.
It was difficult when he popped his clogs. We were working on the second Power Station album when he died and when Bernard went, Tony Thompson didn't play much after that, and he's gone now. It wakes you up - it's a wake up call. I'd have had Bernard in with Duran Duran in a second if he'd been around. Nile is a genius musician but Bernard - he could command such respect, especially from me. There's a chapter in the book where you talk about all those people you've worked with, many of them your heroes.
Is there anyone you haven't worked with that you'd like to?
They're all dead, aren't they? (pause) You know, I'd love to produce an Oasis album. 'Cos I know I could help them make a better album than What's Your Story. I was so near to having a band like Oasis in the 1990s - that sort of Beatles twist with a bit of T Rex, glam, a bit of Slade. As soon as I heard them I thought, "they've got it totally right", taken a mix like we did and melded it into something. I made records and played gigs with Robert Palmer, Rod Stewart, the Chic guys. I've done tracks with Paul Rodgers. The things that are not the centre of your gig, but the wish list - I think every great singer I've wanted to work with I've worked with - Rod, Rob, Paul Rodgers - I have to say he is the master, of all the singers, Paul is the man. He was brilliant in Queen - I was dubious at first as I was a big Queen fan, one of the first gigs I saw, but he was incredible. So when you've ticked all the boxes, don't look for anymore.
Any thoughts or regrets on the way it ended this time round, and any way back in the future?
Don't use email to communicate, and if only I had a time machine. I don't know where would you go to next it, would have to be something that hadn't been done before. Perhaps technology will come along that would allow us to do DD 3.0 - never say never but as it stands at the moment, they don't want me and I don't want them. It's mutual, we agree to disagree, no one should be under any illusion. That Timberland/Timberlake record (Duran Duran's Red Carpet Massacre) was, for me, outsourcing creativity in a way that Duran Duran should not do, but the reason I didn't go to the sessions was not because of that, as I say in the book, but because I did not have a work visa. Had I got there I might have quickly lost my rag and said "for fcku's sake, you're a lovely guy but this a Duran Duran record and I'm not sitting at the back of the room looking at the back of your neck, pal". Maybe it would have been a better record, because I'm not starstruck in a recording studio, and if other people are well, hell, that's not Duran Duran. I regret not being able to get there, to at least lose the argument but at least have the argument about it - and they know it. I'm glad my fingerprints aren't on the record. But if I had gone there, it would not have turned out like that, and the band wouldn't be in the position it is now, and the band know that. But you get to a point where you've all said too much and you come to a point where you can't take it back - we had got to that point.
www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/navigate.do?pPageID=1710
Jon Howells of Waterstone's catches up with Andy Taylor, to discuss among other things, his brand new autobiography, Wild Boy.
I joined Andy Taylor for lunch with his publishers. He was in an effusive mood, holding court on anything and everything from Duran Duran now and then, to the state of the recording industry, Amy Winehouse and Newcastle United. He was happy to answer questions on his history with Duran Duran, but any expected bitterness didn't show - more an air of frustration and disappointment that things didn't work out as well as they could have. I spoke to him after lunch for Waterstones.com, about his book and the reasons for writing it, how Duran Duran started, how it ended and what working with some of the greatest musicians in rock and pop history has meant to him.
A lot of the time when rock stars and other celebrities write a memoir, they'll commit to a couple of days publicity and that's it, but I get the sense you're taking this really seriously and are really going to 'work' the book. Why is it so important to you to get this story out there?
This is my day job at the moment. I'm not on the road. I've been writing and recording music but I don't have any commitment to be anywhere or do anything on that side. So I decided to do this properly. You only really get one chance, one bite at the cherry to tell the story of your life so you have to stand behind every word, especially with the amount of interest in the book. It's more than you get for a new record in some instances. I'm used to big PR campaigns where you sustain momentum to get your message over. It takes more than a few days, and a book has a different dynamic to a record, you can't go on TV reading a few pages the way you'd go on and play a song, you can only talk about it and give it a presence.
Word of mouth seems to be really strong and I'm enjoying it - at the end of the day I'm lucky to be asked to do it. Look at what a lot of the guys that do what I do end up in - one of the guys from a recent boy band is a flight attendant now. It's a brutal business now. So if you're in a position, after 30 years, to do something interesting and that will provoke the public, you've got to do it, stick your head above the water and say "come and get it, come and get me."
The thing I wasn't expecting was the very private, raw emotional detail in the book about your parents. Was it difficult putting that down on paper?
Yeah - my fathers dead, my mum's still alive, but most of my family that were around when I was a child are dead now. It is so fundamental to who you are, how you make decisions that, say, took you to Birmingham. I think you have to explain that this goes back a long way - with all the members of Duran Duran. It all goes back to when we were very young watching Top of the Pops and The Old Grey Whistle Test, and that aspiration to become a pop star. The little triggers you get as a teenager that make you devote your time to it, what happens in your life, who allows you the space to misbehave, stay up late, go to concerts. And when you explore it, you remember what happened; you know what happened at Christmas when your mum left - you got an electric guitar. My mother probably wouldn't have put up with the noise, but my father worked on a building site and he was happy I had found something to take that anger out on, he was totally supportive.
Where you are from and who you are, it's the most fundamental thing about anything you do later in life, particularly creatively. Oasis, you look at them - it's where they're from, it's who they are, it's something you can't lose sight of. So when you are trying to explain the A to Z of 30 odd years of Duran Duran then the whole journey is important and the people who are interested want to know. It's the time you have to explain the whole thing, how some of the earlier stuff puts the way you are later in life into some context. For instance, everyone knows we took drugs, but unless you admit the highs and lows around that, put some reason around it - the consequences - the public see through it. You can't just jump in with "here we go, Birmingham 1980, I'm gonna be a pop star, girls with big knockers and all that" - you've got to get to that point. The bit before the band formed was so important to me, without it I wouldn't have been the musician I am. I was lucky, my father had great tolerance - he let me say, "I'm not going to school", he told me as long as I was doing well at what I wanted, then forget school. In the North-East, in the 1970s, that was energising.
I had a friend over the road who took Mick Ronson's place in the Spiders From Mars who was a phenomenal guitar player and taught me all sorts of little tricks that helped unlock the magic that you needed to know. That fundamental honesty to the audience is something that, for all our achievements, is the centrepiece of what you do. Births, deaths and marriages - underneath it all it's the story of the life we all live, we're all the same, so I've tried to connect to people who have the same kind of experience. Grief - everyone can understand that - the day you go back to work after the death of a parent: it's just the same for me. You want to put people in a frame of mind where they can understand you're human, and this is a human story and not just a hedonistic waste of money. You try and get a balance to try and justify your behaviour.
I got the sense that once the band gelled, it all happened really quickly - did it seem like that to you?
I joined in April, May 1980, Simon in May, June. By July we'd written everything and done our first gig, and we got the deal in December. The day John Lennon died we were talking to EMI - there was 6 months from committing to the band to getting the deal - in December 1980 we started recording Planet Earth - I mean absolutely phenomenally quick. I remember going to Birmingham and I knew there was something right about it and 6 months later I'm going "d**n, I was right". There was such kudos in getting a record deal back then, it was a dream; the retainer, money to record, marketing money - not like now when it's all about cutting corners. It came so quickly - the first two songs were Girls on Film and Planet Earth, then the rest of what became the first album. I remember the guys from the record company saying "they've got side A and side B, and more, and it's all their own material." I remember Dave Ambrose, the A and R man saying - "You're a teenager! It's all your own material?" And I'm like "Well, yeah, so what? Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" And Nick Rhodes and me were very strong about that - nothing else from no one else - even The Beatles first album had cover versions, and the Stones covered Beatles songs. Maybe we should have written for Spandau Ballet!
That's an interesting point. Obviously there was some rivalry there, some real, some fabricated, but nowadays Spandau's first single is relatively obscure while Planet Earth is instantly recognisable and vital. Any real idea why DD's song lasted and the others didn't?
There was only one writer in Spandau, Gary Kemp, and Tony didn't write lyrics. Simon did, so the diction of his expression was his own so it's always going to be more convincing. The shared thing of writing meant that a lot of ideas would come in and it was not just dependant on one guy. But I think a lot was down to me and Nick and our kind of commercial instinct. Nick Rhodes has commercial instinct and grinds it out. I have it and play it out. But that lesson I had in the bands before Duran Duran, doing cover versions for years, learning how songs are written by playing them - we had 150 songs in our repertoire, changing the playlist every night, playing for 6 hours a night - you learnt how chords and keys work in certain ways, you learn the technique and skill. If you listen to Save a Prayer, the chord progression in that is very generic, you find it in a lot of Sam Cooke or Sam and Dave songs. It's a used progression in a sense but there are certain things that just work and we had a very intense sense of what a pop song was, what a hit was.
You're very kind in the book about everyone's contribution to the songwriting, but that songwriting has never got the respect it's due in the UK. It has overseas, especially in America: is that a cause of bitterness for you or the others guys?
When we were younger we really did get pissed off with the kind of elitism in the NME and the established critics of the day because we had amazing success - 7 platinum albums in 4 years in America, and I don't think any other UK act could make that claim. All self-penned apart from the Bond song, which we wrote with John Barry - and writing with John Barry isn't exactly chopped liver, it's an accolade, and it's still the biggest Band song ever. And you look at all that and you go, "they hate us?" But that was because we were in control, we were young, we could do what the fcku we wanted and they couldn't say "here's a new song for you" they had to say, "give us a new song." We had all the power, and we were probably pretty thingyy with it. But we were the masters of our own destiny because of the creative control we had, no one can take credit for any of it - it was all our own invention.
When we took the Reflex to Capitol, the Nile Rogers remix, they said, "we're not releasing it, it's too black". What? I mean, a racist statement in itself! But he pushed the edges of production, and it turned out to be Capitol Records' first hit for 2 years - they couldn't stop us. Power Station? They didn't want to know - didn't want to know - we said, fcku it, we'll take it to another label. They said "oh, well hang on". 2 million copies later... Some Like it Hot was number one in the US, Get It On number 2. Even when you were successful they still wouldn't respect you. I used to think, if Bob Dylan came up to you, or Freddie mercury, they'd say "yes sir". But because we were 23 they wouldn't. There was a big old Texan at Capitol, and he said to us "you'll be long out of here before I am" - 6 months later he was gone, too old school. I don't think the label were great supporters of our credibility, nor were the media.
Second time around we got all the accolades. I remember walking into the MTV awards and no one took much notice, but when we walked out and that street was full of the Americans hollering for us - hip hop guys, the lot - that started a chain reaction of getting awards. We even turned one down, the World Music Awards, because it was one too many. The Ivor Novello for songwriting was cool - that's about achievement, that's worth a lot. And the Brits was nice - I mean, that's home, isn't it? I remember going to the Brits with Rod Stewart in '93 when he got the same award, and I watched and thought, "I'll never get one of them". So it still means something to get the recognition we didn't back then. I was never bitter we didn't get it back then, but I thought it was cynical that, say, The Smiths would. I mean, do sales not count for anything? That's one of the reasons we did Power Station, and spent a lot of time with Robert Palmer and people like that to prove I was more than a one trick pony, and Power Station really did do that for me. It helped me stretch myself, and learn to write hits with others. I learnt so much from him.
There's obviously a huge affection from you, and John Taylor, for Robert Palmer.
Yeah, I spent an enormous amount of time with him. I was in an interview with him once and he was asked "Why do you like Andy?" and I thought "I can't wait to hear this one, cos Robert don't like anyone one". And he said "Andy fookin' takes care of business". And I thought, "that'll do, that's about the best thing you can say of anyone". Years later, just before he died, I played a gig with him and we'd been a bit naughty and stayed up late and I thought I was a bit ragged up on stage, but he said "you didn't fookin drop a beat". He was very critical, razor sharp ears, done the same as me, gigged as a kid, did all the cover versions, but the voice never went, he was tough, a road guy. Really clever and opened up the possibility for me to try other things - have a go at drums, keyboards. And meeting Bernard Edwards, the challenge of working with the second most successful record producer in America after Quincy Jones - he had such confidence. They'd go for you if you got it wrong, had that James Brown work ethic, and it raised your game hugely - can I get good enough to hang with these guys, can I go all the way up to that level? Bernard would get you in the room and push you and push you and wouldn't let go if he had that faith. I remember taking him to meet Rod Stewart and we started jamming and Rod said, "Fackin' Ell Andy, they're good", and he went on to make about four albums with Bernard after that. We did a lot of things together right up to the mid-90s.
It was difficult when he popped his clogs. We were working on the second Power Station album when he died and when Bernard went, Tony Thompson didn't play much after that, and he's gone now. It wakes you up - it's a wake up call. I'd have had Bernard in with Duran Duran in a second if he'd been around. Nile is a genius musician but Bernard - he could command such respect, especially from me. There's a chapter in the book where you talk about all those people you've worked with, many of them your heroes.
Is there anyone you haven't worked with that you'd like to?
They're all dead, aren't they? (pause) You know, I'd love to produce an Oasis album. 'Cos I know I could help them make a better album than What's Your Story. I was so near to having a band like Oasis in the 1990s - that sort of Beatles twist with a bit of T Rex, glam, a bit of Slade. As soon as I heard them I thought, "they've got it totally right", taken a mix like we did and melded it into something. I made records and played gigs with Robert Palmer, Rod Stewart, the Chic guys. I've done tracks with Paul Rodgers. The things that are not the centre of your gig, but the wish list - I think every great singer I've wanted to work with I've worked with - Rod, Rob, Paul Rodgers - I have to say he is the master, of all the singers, Paul is the man. He was brilliant in Queen - I was dubious at first as I was a big Queen fan, one of the first gigs I saw, but he was incredible. So when you've ticked all the boxes, don't look for anymore.
Any thoughts or regrets on the way it ended this time round, and any way back in the future?
Don't use email to communicate, and if only I had a time machine. I don't know where would you go to next it, would have to be something that hadn't been done before. Perhaps technology will come along that would allow us to do DD 3.0 - never say never but as it stands at the moment, they don't want me and I don't want them. It's mutual, we agree to disagree, no one should be under any illusion. That Timberland/Timberlake record (Duran Duran's Red Carpet Massacre) was, for me, outsourcing creativity in a way that Duran Duran should not do, but the reason I didn't go to the sessions was not because of that, as I say in the book, but because I did not have a work visa. Had I got there I might have quickly lost my rag and said "for fcku's sake, you're a lovely guy but this a Duran Duran record and I'm not sitting at the back of the room looking at the back of your neck, pal". Maybe it would have been a better record, because I'm not starstruck in a recording studio, and if other people are well, hell, that's not Duran Duran. I regret not being able to get there, to at least lose the argument but at least have the argument about it - and they know it. I'm glad my fingerprints aren't on the record. But if I had gone there, it would not have turned out like that, and the band wouldn't be in the position it is now, and the band know that. But you get to a point where you've all said too much and you come to a point where you can't take it back - we had got to that point.
www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/navigate.do?pPageID=1710