Mcbusted : The Story of the World's Biggest Super Band (9781471140679) Page 3

  Still, Tom knew the saying about gift horses and mouths, and he wasn’t about to look at this pony in the wrong way. As soon as he hung up the phone, he whipped out his guitar and got cracking. What to write about, what to write about? He had it! ‘Hot Chicks Dot Com’, about the perils of discovering your mum has a profile on a porn site, was the obvious result, along with some other songs that have since been confined to the mists of time.

  His meeting with Fletch and Rashman the next day didn’t, unsurprisingly, result in their immediately signing him to a music publishing deal – but they did offer a lot of constructive criticism, and proved to him that they were sincere in believing he had talent. Fletch gave him a tip: listen to hit songs and figure out what makes them such smash hits. Well, that was homework? Tom threw himself into it with gusto, devouring the hits of Blink-182, Green Day and Limp Bizkit, of the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears, of Lennon and McCartney alike.

  The Busted boys were being similarly inspired as they spent the winter rehearsing, writing and recording. American Pie 2 had hit cinemas that October and the soundtrack was something else. Featuring James and Matt’s favourite bands Blink-182 and Green Day, the album also boasted songs by thirteen other artists, and as a whole the record was explosively good. According to Matt in his interview with The Vault channel, ‘the whole band changed overnight’ after listening to that album.

  It was a time of creative freedom and flexibility. The boys revelled in writing about stuff that happened or mattered to them. Bringing in the humour they so loved in Robbie Williams’s songs, and the realism that Matt’s other favourite band, Madness, excelled at, the three lads found the songs flying out of them. Charlie came into one writing session with a sad tale of how he’d been blown out by a girl, whom he later named in an interview with Newsround Showbiz as Daisy Bell. ‘I crashed and burned,’ he said dejectedly. James’s ears pricked up – what an unusual phrase! The boys already had the beginnings of a song about a cocky girl who totally knew how hot she was, and this narrative tied in perfectly. ‘Crash and Burn’ was the stomping result of a song. It was immediately added to their demo tape, along with James and Matt’s old favourite on the theme of time travel, ‘Year 3000’.

  Christmas came and went, with the band hoping that Santa was just a few weeks late in delivering the item at the top of their wishlists: a record deal. January 2002 brought such a gift tantalisingly within reach, as Rashman and Fletch set up meetings for the guys with record execs at several companies. First up was the by now super-famous Simon Cowell, who was still riding the Pop Idol wave, currently cresting at 10 million viewers and counting, despite the fact that everyone knew squeaky-clean stutterer Gareth Gates was going to win.

  Fletch gave a vivid account of their meeting with Cowell in an interview with HR magazine: ‘We’d been told by a songwriter that if he likes something, he plays it through twice. The guys played [acoustically], then he asked them to play again. Then he put the CD on and I thought, “We’ve got to be in there.”’

  Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t: Cowell gave nothing away. James recalls of that meeting in Busted, ‘[Cowell] was quite cold before he’d heard our stuff and, as you can imagine, we were expecting the worst from him. Then after he’d heard us play, he waited for five seconds – which seemed like the longest time in the world – and said, “Actually, I really like it.”’ He put a £1 million record deal on the table.

  OMFG! as the boys might say. A £1 million record deal. But the boys didn’t jump at it straightaway – choosing the right record label required serious consideration. For the band, it was always about the music, about a long-term career, not making a quick buck; and it was about the band as a unit. Cowell was talking about maybe bringing in some other members, changing the format, switching things about a bit, and the group were not at all sure about his plans. They thought they rocked as they were. Would anyone take them seriously as a trio?

  They still had several other companies to go. Next up was Paul Adam – who’d also had his fair share of fame, as part of the judging panel of ITV’s Popstars – who worked at Island Records, part of Universal. Charlie was hopeful about them, as they’d signed the little-known Belgian indie act dEUS, whom Charlie loved.

  It was an unconventional meeting. Paul had just moved offices, and the seating had gone missing in the move, so all six of them – the band, the management and Paul – sat on the floor to chat. Yet that lack of formality suited down-to-earth Busted down to the ground. Paul later recalled of the showcase, ‘They performed “What I Go to School For”, “Year 3000” and “Crash and Burn”. They were such bloody good songwriters and they absolutely blew me away. I wanted to lock the door so they wouldn’t escape and go to any other record labels!’

  The band had nailed it. With labels now fighting over them, pushing them for a decision, it was a tense time: this decision would impact on the rest of their lives. They went away for a week to think about it, and their managers advised them the best they could. Ultimately, Busted made the call to sign with Island.

  Fletch gave this analysis of the dilemma in his HR magazine interview: ‘Although Simon Cowell is brilliant at pop, we don’t think he understands the needs of real musicians. The decision was taken from a management point of view. Universal was where we wanted to go and our lawyers got us a great deal . . . The deal Busted signed with Island Records was the second largest in the label’s history, second only to U2.’

  They were an awfully long way from James’s home recording studio in Southend now.

  But recording was what was next on the cards. Calling on the services of producers Steve Robson and John McLaughlin, Busted prepared to record their debut self-titled album at the Brick Lane Studios in London.

  Now they were a bona fide band with a proper record contract and everything, their domestic circumstances needed looking at sharpish. Happy though Matt was to be sharing a home with the Bournes, he couldn’t remain with them for ever, and Southend was an impractical location for London-based activities for both James and Matt, anyway. In February 2002, the band took the plunge and all three lads moved into a flat in Princess Park Manor, an exclusive apartment complex in Friern Barnet in north London. It was an enormous place compared with Matt’s childhood home, and the three of them settled in right away.

  Built in 1849, with a foundation stone laid by Prince Albert, Princess Park Manor was a gorgeous place for the band’s first home. A yellow-brick former mental institution converted into flats, the complex boasted rolling green lawns, fashionably designed luxury apartments and an on-site health-and-fitness club, complete with swimming pool. Not that the lads planned on working out any time soon: aside from the distractions of their new bachelor pad, such as their own table football, a ping-pong table and an enormous TV, they were far too busy. With the record contract officially signed on 5 March 2002, the boys got ready for the most life-changing year of their lives.

  Rashman also had some paperwork to finish off in March of that year. On 22 March, Ki and Owen – the original Busted bandmates – signed an agreement regarding the songs that had been written during the former Termites’ time together. Ki and Owen took sole ownership of the songs ‘She Knows’ and ‘Who’s Your Daddy?’. The rest of the songs were agreed to be James and Matt’s. And that, or so they thought, was that.

  By summer 2002, a buzz about Busted was unmistakeably in the air. The lads had finished their album, recorded their school-set debut video in May, and even got over the hurdle of ‘musical differences’ early on in the band’s life.

  James and Charlie hailed from very different musical backgrounds: James was passionate about the kind of pop smashes penned by Max Martin, who had written global hits such as ‘. . . Baby One More Time’ and ‘Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)’, while Charlie was much more into out-and-out rock and indie music. Nonetheless, the combination somehow worked. Charlie said of the writing process in Busted, ‘I had a few arguments with James and Mattie . . . I was stuck in the old
indie ethic about “We make our music and if anyone else likes it, that’s a bonus.”’ For a band with a massive record deal and a member like James, who seemed to be able to write songs with mass appeal at the drop of a hat, such an outlook was anathema. James wanted to write songs that lots of people would listen to and enjoy.

  Charlie found a way of making the tricky balance of artistic integrity and commercial appeal work for him, though the solution seemed to be a little like bundling stuff into a closet, ramming shut the door and hoping for the best. He commented, ‘If I want to be a bit self-indulgent every now and again, I just keep the songs to myself.’

  July 2002 found the band at their first Party in the Park for the Prince’s Trust, an annual music event held in London’s Hyde Park. The band hadn’t released a single yet, so they were hanging about, getting known, bigging up that buzz and checking out their soon-to-be competition. It was a rather grey day for July, but that didn’t dint the enthusiasm of Matt and James – or the 100,000-strong crowd – as they watched the hottest pop acts of the day perform on the enormous stage, including Blue (whose members included an old Sylvia Young pal of Matt’s, Lee Ryan), Atomic Kitten and Pop Idol finalists Will Young, Gareth Gates and Darius Danesh; Will had unexpectedly scooped the crown from Gareth in February, and scored the biggest-selling single of the year to date with ‘Evergreen’.

  Charlie, however, was not at all comfortable in this pop-fest. James recalled in Busted, ‘Charlie was being hilarious because he decided that he “didn’t belong” there because of his indie ethic. In all the early pictures of Charlie with fans he’s got a face like thunder.’

  Pictures with fans were becoming a more and more frequent occurrence when the boys were out and about – and it was a fan base that grew larger still when the teen-favourite music magazine Smash Hits chose to put the group on its front cover that summer – pretty much a first for any band who hadn’t yet released any music. The headline was, MEET BUSTED, THEY’RE GOING TO BE BIGGER THAN RIK WALLER!

  And the song that was going to take them there was ‘What I Go to School For’. It had been a unanimous choice for the first single. Matt, who was now known to his legions of fans as ‘Mattie Jay’, his ‘Busted name’, remembered the moment they wrote the song in Busted: ‘We got so excited once we’d finished. I knew at that point that “What I Go to School For” was the first potential hit record we’d written together. I suddenly thought, “Bloody hell, we’ve really got a chance here.”’

  The press campaign for the single featured the band’s first ever professional photoshoot at the Trocadero in London (a shoot at which Matt’s ‘Busted gurn’ first made an appearance, due to his impossible nerves at having his picture taken); a tour of an acoustic set to all the magazines; and a huge gig for all the media at the swanky Institute of Contemporary Arts in central London, which they decked out to look like a school disco. James’s little brother Chris came along and was first in line at the front, cheering them on.

  Soon, he would find that pole position fought over by thousands upon thousands of screaming girls.

  ‘What I Go to School For’ was a savvy choice for a debut single: the naughty storyline of the song, fancying your teacher, was an instant talking point; the chorus was irrepressibly catchy; and the boys’ lyrics asserted them as a fun and funny band who were here to entertain you. Their lexicon had a grown-up slant, too. This wasn’t bubblegum pop, but a hybrid between pop and rock that was brand new. The boys’ ‘dance’ moves – high-energy jumps with their knees tucked in tight as they power-played their guitars – were soon almost as recognisable as Jackson’s moonwalk. Once the record finally hit shops on 26 September 2002, it was an instant hit; and not just with their teenage fans. Music Week described it as ‘unfeasibly catchy, melody-driven pop with attitude’, while the music bible NME simply went for ‘ace’. The respect of the music press was the cherry on top of an enormous commercial hit.

  Fletch broke the midweek-sales news to Matt while he was staying at his mum’s. The record was on course to debut at number three; it was a sensation. His mum was out when Matt got the call, so he had no one with whom to toast the news. He then did a most un-Matt-like thing: he had a cup of tea to celebrate.

  With the first album put to bed, James found he started to have a bit of time to think about writing new songs again. And he had a crazy idea about whom he wanted to write them with. He’d heard from Fletch and Rashman that Tom Fletcher was still in touch with them, and writing better and better songs with every week that passed. James had always thought that Tom was very talented – the decision for him not to join Busted had had nothing to do with James’s appreciation of his songwriting skills – and, with Tom now having mastered the art of structuring songs, thanks to Fletch’s encouragement, James suggested to his managers that maybe he and Tom could get together to write.

  Tom pulled up to James’s flash apartment in Princess Park Manor one evening – and just about managed to pick his jaw up off the floor at the sight of the new pop star’s lavish home.

  It had been a lonely few months for Tom. He’d concentrated on improving his songwriting, and had finally received a nod of approval from the hard-to-please Fletch with a song called ‘Hot Date’, but, without a band or any bandmates, it was hard to make any real progress. Perhaps this partnership with James might lead somewhere.

  Tom slammed the door of his little Fiat Punto and made his way inside. It was eight o’clock in the evening and they had a good couple of hours ahead of them to write some stuff, if the magic happened. James invited him into the bachelor pad and showed him around, chatting nineteen to the dozen; and Tom responded in kind. They literally could not stop talking and laughing, sharing jokes and geeky observations and their passions, like Back to the Future and – of course – Michael Jackson. If this was hitting it off, they’d scored a home run.

  Tom took out his blue-lined notebook and his guitar and, eventually, they got to work. Tom didn’t end up leaving till five in the morning. The first song the pair ever wrote together was called ‘Chills in the Evening’, which came together that first fateful night, but it wouldn’t be the last. Tom spoke openly about their partnership in Unsaid Things:

  I think we both knew that we’d stumbled upon something pretty special . . . Despite [my] looking up to Matt Willis in a big way ever since I’d been at school, I think I realised that I had more in common with James. As time passed, I grew to realise that in James I had found an amazing friend and mentor. He taught me everything I know about songwriting, and I truly believe that he is one of the most underrated talents of our time – a genius with an amazingly contagious creative energy.

  But the ‘genius’ was running into a problem. Busted’s debut album, Busted, was released just after the whirlwind of their first single, on 30 September 2002. It staggered drunkenly into the charts at number 30 – much like Matt after one of his special ‘cocktails’ as some unkindly joked – and then slumped into the hundreds, a dead weight around number 141, and seemingly dead to the world, too.

  Were Busted just a one-off, one-hit wonder?

  THREE

  Not Alone

  Busted’s management and the record label tried to put their minds at rest. It was highly unusual to release a full album so close to the debut single; they were confident sales would pick up in due course. They were playing the long game. For the band at least, though, it was a nail-biting time. The second single wasn’t due out until the new year, so for now all they could do was throw themselves into the promotion, which included playing loads of live gigs, including a slot on the autumn Smash Hits 2002 tour.

  For James, as ever, it was all about the music. Having found his songwriting soulmate in Tom, he was flying as fast as a DeLorean car at 88 m.p.h. – and he wasn’t about to slow down. Most nights, no matter what gig James had been at, no matter what the hour, Tom was invited round to Princess Park Manor to write. James recalled of that time, in a solo interview with The Vault, ‘I would get our manager to
get him round in a car. And after I would get home he would come round and we’d write late at night till about three or four, sometimes five in the morning. We would write a song a night. It was a cool time.’

  So cool, in fact, that Tom quit college; he was, you might say, too cool for school. By night, he would write songs with James; by day, well, Rashman and Fletch had another proposition for him, one they hoped might connect him with his longed-for bandmates. With the record company feeling confident about Busted’s success – the top-three hit single was in the bag, and the album sales were slowly, slowly on the rise – they asked Prestige Management if it would be interested in putting together a more manufactured band for them, in the vein of a traditional boy band. Prestige was keen to pursue the opportunity – and asked Tom if he wanted to be in the group. But Tom, at the age of seventeen, had learned a thing or two about himself as an artist by now, and knew the set-up wouldn’t suit him. He wanted to play his own instruments, write his own songs and have his own band.

  However, he was up for coming along for the audition ride. He was paid to sort the hopefuls’ application forms and film the performances: every glossy, flicky-haired, beautifully polished last one of them.

  The advert for the new band, which would eventually become known as V, specified that the management were looking for ‘pop singers, not rock singers, so please do not bring guitars’. Little wonder, then, that the auditionees – and there were lots of them – were of the preppy, clean-cut variety, eager to show off their dance moves and their teenage-heartthrob dulcet tones. City after city, Tom patiently worked his camcorder and dreamed of the kind of bandmate he wanted for his group. Someone who could play an instrument brilliantly, he thought. Someone cool. Someone with a bit of an edge; a cockiness to counterbalance Tom’s natural reticence. There was a lot of confidence on display at the V auditions, but none of the hopefuls was even halfway right for Tom’s vision for his band.