My advice to any artist working on their debut album is to savour it. Get on with having a good time because that pure, naive ‘Shit! I’m making an album’ moment lasts for only a brief time. Once the first song is out and you’ve got a hit, it all changes. Before that, you don’t know if anyone will ever hear it, so just enjoy making that music. It is one of the purest moments you can have in the music business and, for me anyway, the recording of Bros’s debut album was delightful.
Both ‘When Will I Be Famous?’ and ‘I Owe You Nothing’ are credited on the Bros albums as written by Watkins/Graham, so neither Luke nor I receive any money from the publishing of those songs. However, ‘Famous’ was essentially a spoken-word song when I first heard it, but by the time I had sung my lead vocals, I had added a lot. I think that there are moments in those songs you just couldn’t write, it’s just my style of singing. I’ve always been forward in simply opening my mouth in the studio and going for it, it’s impossible to have that kind of character and that kind of sound without the lead singer. The famous ‘oh-ah’ and other ad-libs are not something that you could write down, but as a singer you are naturally inclined to come up with melody. If you listen carefully to ‘I Owe You Nothing’, you will realize that it is a very difficult song to sing; ‘Famous’ has a four-bar section in half-speed waltz time and when people heard we wanted to put 3/4 timing in a dance record they said it wouldn’t work. We stuck with it and we were right, but it was very demanding to sing, naturally. I would say that I added a lot but at the time I didn’t know anything about publishing splits and how money was generated. You think you are involved in making a record, so I was putting my ideas forward and singing, as was Luke.
To Tom’s great credit, he had a famous line that he used to apply to us all the time: ‘You can’t make chicken soup out of chicken shit.’ Nonetheless, we did not get publishing credits on those two songs.
That’s one of the key reasons why I soon wanted to get involved in the writing of the songs I sing, because it was all so disappointing when we realized later that even though we’d put so much effort and work into those songs we would not be entitled to any publishing monies. Having said that, I harbour no bitterness whatsoever about that situation, I don’t have the energy to focus on that, it’s just not wise – I will discuss my feelings towards Tom and Mick in more depth later on in my tale.
With the benefit of hindsight, what I will say to anyone going into a studio for the first time is if you are adding anything, then you are entitled to some of the publishing. At such an early stage in your career when you are around more experienced people, it’s a hard conversation to have, but you have to make your point. It also sets a precedent for future work – usually I will not go into a studio as a writer unless there is fifty per cent for me. I do lyric and melody, all the arrangements, some programming, harmonies and so on, elements which are never going to be worth less. If you have three people in a room, then it’s split three equal ways, but I would also say, to go beyond three people writing in a studio . . . it might work in Nashville, but be careful. Whichever line-up you have, get it understood what the splits are; it cuts out the disappointment. Believe me, I know.
By the time we were recording that debut album, the word on the street about Bros was already reaching epic proportions. We were increasingly being asked to do photo shoots and interviews and on some days it was as if everyone knew about us already. We were starting to be mobbed before we’d even had a hit.
We did some PAs to fan the flames, although not exactly hundreds like some young bands do. Nonetheless, something intangible was happening and we were already getting a following. Girls were beginning to go mad when they saw us. That was quite a shock, I can tell you. One of the first times it began to dawn on me that something was happening, was outside my mum’s house in Peckham (this would be the location of some of the most insane moments of Brosmania over the coming years). I came home one afternoon after doing some recording and there was a girl hyperventilating outside Mum’s house. I instinctively thought it was a passer-by in distress, so I ran in and anxiously said, ‘Mum, quick! There’s a girl outside and she’s obviously not well, she’s hyperventilating. Look! Look!’
My mum followed me out of the front door and looked down the street. There was no one there. I was completely bemused. We went back inside, puzzled, but I was not happy, there had definitely been a girl out there in discomfort, so I had to look out of the window to check again. This time there were four girls and they were all hyperventilating. I dragged Mum out to see if we could help. When they saw me, they freaked out and their condition escalated to what can only be described as hysteria.
‘I think that’s because of you, Matty,’ said Mum, a cheeky and proud little smile spreading across her face.
Within what felt like a month of that day, we were being mobbed by hundreds of screaming girls every day without fail.
We hadn’t even released a record yet.
A Righteous Way Of Getting Paid
August 1987 saw the release of our debut single, ‘I Owe You Nothing’. The song was already being played repeatedly in certain cool clubs so hopes were high for the actual chart.
It peaked at Number 74.
It seemed to matter very little. In the post-Millennial pop climate, many labels might have abandoned ship at that point, but fortunately for us – and Sony in the end – our record company was undeterred. Our second single was pencilled in for October.
Even after the disappointing chart placing for our debut single, the fever swelling around Bros seemed to increase. When our follow-up single was issued, ‘When Will I Be Famous?’, everything changed. Normal was a word I would no longer be able to use in my life. We were told we might go in at Number 40.
‘Maybe, Matt.’
‘When Will I Be Famous?’ mid-weeked at 41 so we knew we had a chance. Back then you had to sell thousands of records just to get into ‘the Forty’. To me, Number 40 would have been an incredible achievement; after all, we were a completely new band. I remember lying in my bedroom on a Sunday night with my mate Lloyd – Luke was downstairs – listening to the chart countdown, as we had done for most of our lives. Before, we’d have been listening to see if The Specials or Police had charted and where. Now we were waiting for Bros, it was the most extraordinary feeling of disbelief and anticipation.
‘And at Number 40 . . .’
. . . it wasn’t us.
It was Simply Red with ‘Ev’ry Time You Say Goodbye’.
It was just the most awful feeling.
They played that record and we were barely listening, we were so deflated. Then the DJ said, ‘Number 39, they’ve done it, it’s Bros!’
We all just went nuts, Luke ran in and we were going crazy. All I remember was jumping up and down in a frenzy, swearing in excitement, hugging each other. We were inside the UK Top Forty! It didn’t make sense, it was amazing. We’d charted. It was a quite phenomenal moment.
And it just got better. As Brosmania started to break on the unsuspecting shores of British pop, the single stayed in the Top Forty for nearly four months. Eventually, it reached the giddy heights of Number 2.
In one sense, when ‘Famous’ hit Number 2, we were dumbfounded. By then, however, Brosmania was in full flow (an alternative name, ‘Brosteria’, was less popular). When I try to analyse