George finally moves from Boy to soul man

Evening Standard  08.02.07

Sometimes it's difficult to remember exactly who Boy George is, but somewhere beyond the sweeping of Manhattan's streets, the drugs, the dilettante dabbling in DJ-dom and the silly facepaint, lies one a great British soul voice.

As Culture Club leader, Boy George was a national treasure, whose winning way with a chipper tune or grandstanding ballad was allied to a waspish sense of humour and memorable, if unbelievable claims about preferring a cup of tea to sex.

Then came the heroin-assisted crash and, today, the rubble of a career governed by wilful stupidity and the sure knowledge that if there was a wrong decision to be made, George would make it.

George, who is 46 this year, is certainly older, possibly wiser, and undeniably slimmer. Significantly, last night's belated attempt to return to what he does best but cares about least took place at his spiritual heartland, the former Camden Palace ("it still looks quite glamorous," he lied).

Among the curious were Amy Winehouse - who wasn't born when Culture Club split in 1986 - Kelly Osbourne, the Prince Of Brunei plus 20-man security phalanx, and Julian Clary. As the crowds melted away afterwards, Celebrity Big Brother's Donny Tourette arrived.

If George had illusions about just how far he has slipped, Koko's closed top tier and a hardly heaving dancefloor would have soon dispelled them.

No matter, some things never change. He wore his trademark undignified top hat (stop it: we know you're bald) and a jacket festooned in slogans, this time eulogising new best friend Kylie Minogue, abusing both Radio 2 and Diana Ross and declaring in finest double-edged fashion that "gay marriage sucks".

Perhaps swigging from cans of super-strength lager isn't necessarily the ideal way to redemption, but the voice was in surprisingly fine fettle.

George's humbling community service in New York apparently taught him the meaning of the phrase. Where once he sneered at Culture Club and refused to play the songs whose royalties are the primary reason he won't be asking if you'd like fries with your burger for the foreseeable future, now he understands that looking back need not be a tiresome chore.

Church Of The Poison Mind was delivered at breakneck speed and overflowed with joie de vivre. Do You Really Want To Hurt Me? was the very epitome of dreaminess and the beloved Karma Chameleon gained a new layer of loveliness in a new, stately incarnation.

Encouragingly, the slew of new material, from the keyboard heavy Play Me, to the anthem for asylum seekers Inhuman Nature, via a surreal, reggaefied version of Fleetwood Mac's Go Your Own Way were the sound of a man rediscovering his muse and, who knows, rekindling his career.

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/music/gig-23358786-details/Boy+George/gigReview.do?reviewId=23384758

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