RICH LOPEZ | Staff writer
Rich@DallasVoice.com
Singer Andy Bell has clearly been excited about the possibilities and future his 40-year career has delivered to him. Earlier this year, he released his third solo album, Ten Crowns, which represents a landmark for the Erasure frontman: It’s not just that the album’s 10 tracks are a reflection of joyful pop and dance songs (mixed with some gospel notes), the fact that Bell finished this project the same year he turned 60 adds to the excitement.
In support of the album, the singer is out on the road currently on the North American leg of his tour which brings him to the Majestic Theatre in Dallas on Nov. 15. (For tickets, visit AXS.com.)
Ahead of his appearance, Bell spoke with Dallas Voice about this milestone chapter for him, discussing the nuances of touring solo, the strength he derives from his collabs with straight men and how he embraces getting older within the queer community.
Dallas Voice: You mentioned before that touring solo gets you out of your comfort zone. What have you found that has been outside of your comfort zone so far? Andy Bell: When you come to these places like Raleigh, where I’ve never been before, you don’t know what the town is like or anything. It’s good for me to see other parts of America that I don’t usually see — I usually see Chicago, Dallas, New York. It’s a massive country so every single place is like another country on its own. By the way, we had a nice welcome in Raleigh.
Is it the politics of some of these places that lean into some of this discomfort? I keep up with politics, and it all gets very depressing. But then when you come here, and you meet the people, you think, “Actually, it’s okay.” It’s all the stuff going on behind the headlines that’s made to scare you, which is what a lot of our material is about — about not going into the woods or, at least, making sure you know your way back out, because it can be a scary place.
What were some of the lines of continuity that you were trying to put out with Ten Crowns? Well, I’ve been writing with Dave Aude for, like, the past 12 years, off and on. In the meantime, he was living in L.A. Working with anyone in L.A. makes you feel special. You feel like you’re part of the club because I don’t get out there much.
Not that it matters, but your primary collaborator for this album is a straight man. And your Erasure music life partner Vince Clarke is as well. Dave loves playing for the bears; he’s a big fan of them. But having that conversation is really sweet. It’s the same with Vince: He’s very pro-gay, and he loves it. I think some people, some straight men, are fascinated by it — still, today. I think sometimes we have deeper conversations with them than they do with their own families, because they can ask things that they’re maybe too embarrassed to ask other people.
I get it. I find a certain unique comfort with my own straight guy friends or previous colleagues. Once you have this affinity with the people that you’re working with … you just feel completely at ease, and I think it gives me some kind of power where I feel I can sing about anything. Remember when you were in school and you didn’t want people to think you’re a sissy? Working with Dave or with Vince, there’s none of that whatsoever, which, in the music industry, is a thing on its own, as well. Some of the album addresses those dynamics.
Sorry to put in my take on your album, but my takeaway was “Yeah, this is present, but it doesn’t matter, because there’s something deeper.” Yeah, exactly. You have to know your confidence. Feel that strength enough to go on the stage and perform as an out gay person, whatever that means. You take it into the room with you. It’s always with you the whole time.
You finished the album upon turning 60 and have been vocal about embracing that. Aging for gay or queer men is a whole conversation in and of itself. How has getting older made its way into your music? It’s quite strange. Somebody was talking about being gay and getting the Attitude award this year (Editor’s Note: Bell was awarded the Pride Icon award by Attitude magazine earlier this year). It’s a lovely thing, but at the same time, it doesn’t endear you to the young gay men, because you’re still old! They’re like, “Who’s this person? What did they do?”
I think when we were younger, we were less ignorant, because everything wasn’t immediate. We knew who Quentin Crisp was; we knew who Martha P. Johnson was, because we had a history, I suppose.
History doesn’t last as long now. Everything’s so in your face and lasts for two minutes. Nobody seems to have any reverence for anything. Which doesn’t matter, but I always think, well, it’s not going to be that long until you 30-year-olds are going to be 40 and 50, so you’re going to soon see what it’s like and how much those supposed inconsequential comments matter to you, because they say it so flippantly.
Preach! Is there anything important to you now that maybe wasn’t in the earlier days of music? I don’t know, it’s really hard to put myself in music, even though we are in it. I don’t see myself as me when I listen to myself. I don’t know who it is. I still don’t know who it is who’s doing that music. It seems like it’s kind of an entity on its own.
Your career has spanned for four decades — mostly with Erasure. As you are on this solo tour, is there anything you need to prove either to yourself or your fans? I feel like now I can kind of come out on the stage and be me, rather than we’re coming out and we are Erasure together. You stand in your own presence, rather than being together as two people in a symbiotic relationship kind of thing.
You’ve said you love playing Texas. What is it about here that stands out? Only because, again, that’s another one of those places where you read the most horrific things and then you go to the place and realize, you know, it’s the size of, like, half of Europe; it could govern itself. You realize there are wonders within. You have to go there; that’s it. I’m glad to be coming back.