Erasure
8 p.m. July 31
Music Hall Center for the Performing Arts, Detroit
Can't Andy Bell get some privacy? As he chills – literally, since the air conditioning is working overtime to keep his Las Vegas hotel room cool in the scorching heat – the maid barges in. No biggie, right? Problem is: Bell's naked.
He politely excuses himself from the interview and asks her, in a pleasant chirp, to come back at 1 o'clock. We delay our interrupted question, shifting attention to the issue at hand: Do you typically lounge in the buff?
"I just woke up, that's why," Bell says. "But, yeah, I do. There's no point, really, getting dressed, is there?"
Erasure's buoyant Brit arose early, at 8 a.m., and after dragging himself around his hotel room like a kid does a doll, he crashed – and awoke again at 11 a.m. Not to the sunrise, but to a phone call. The colorful crooner claims he was croaking during his first newspaper interview this morning, but during our chat, except for an occasional yawn, he's all aglow – even when he's fast-forwarding 20 years.
"I'll only be in my 60s, which will be the new 40," he quips. "And hopefully I'll look as good as Debbie (Harry) and Cyndi (Lauper) and my voice would've improved, and we'll have loads of material to sing, and maybe I might've been in a movie or two, or some kind of musical."
The night before the maid stole a glimpse of Bell's schlong and rump, he was yakking with the True Colors Tour clique, including Harry and Lauper, over dinner in Vegas before they launch the slew of LGBT-awareness benefit shows.
The tour, which wrapped on June 30, foremost supported the Human Rights Campaign and also Erasure's latest synth-laden disc, "A Light at the End of the World," a bubbly four-month project recorded in bandmate Vince Clarke's Maine hometown. The quaint city of Falmouth, rich with luscious scenery, set the mood for their 13th album, which was recorded in a rented seaside cottage. As summer turned into fall, Bell soaked in the dreamy, organic surroundings; his mind would often drift, like the strong coastal winds, as he considered the meditative lyrics for "Light."
Lyrics that are both bittersweet, like on the ode to the end of Bell's 20-year relationship on "When a Lover Leaves You," and just plain sweet – see "Sucker for Love," "How My Eyes Adore You" and "Golden Heart."
Having already beaten his relationship's fizzle into the ground on the ominous-toned "Nightbird" and then undergoing a career-stalling stylistic-switcheroo on "Union Street," "Light" basks in the glow of Erasure's classic sound and Bell's new beau. But be careful not to refer to his ruined romantic ties with live-in ex Paul, who he calls "half-platonic," as a break-up.
"That sounds too kind of brutal. But it's quite brutal, it's quite hard," he insists. "I really don't envy anybody that's married and has children and stuff and has to go and get divorced and split everything up."
After Clarke and Bell perform a stretch of solo shows, including one on July 31 at Music Hall for the Performing Arts in Detroit, Bell's planning a big move: saying buh-bye to his ex-lover's place and moving into Dave's digs. He still calls Paul his soulmate, but Dave fills a yearning for love that was void from his past relationship.
He says, "It's something that I've wanted for a long, long time."
And time is something Bell can't waste. He's already put his lingering inner child to work on a follow-up to the "Light" album with a colorful collection of nursery rhymes, inspired by Clarke's nearly 2-year-old child. So far, five are in the can.
"Now he's got the idea where he wants to make it for adults rather than for children, so he kind of wants to (do) some research. (He wants to find) some kind of folklore stories of really horrible people and then make stories up about them and make songs to those," says Bell, noting his favorite nursery rhyme is "Oranges and Lemons."
Clearly, Bell's stuck on autopilot: kiddie ditties, the True Colors Tour and a leg of solo Erasure dates. While on the road, he usually isolates himself in his hotel room, like on this particular dry afternoon. Not because he doesn't enjoy scoping out a new town every couple of days, but he's usually too tired to do so – proven by his premature rise in the morning, and quick crash again minutes later.
And he doesn't blame HIV. Though he was diagnosed with the virus in 1998 and announced it publicly nearly three years ago, it hasn't hindered him from pouring his flying falsetto onto umpteen fans night after night. If anything, it's pushed him harder.
"It just makes you realize what a privilege it is to take care of yourself – you know? – and feel healthy."
