Molesey music legend Rick Astley interview
Here he talks history, fame and power tools with close friend, actor Simon Mattacks.
Rick Astley and I go way back. “We’ve known each other for so long,” to quote his most famous song.
Ever since we played our first gig in a local band, The Luddites, in a friend’s back garden on Hurst Road, East Molesey in 2007.
And yes, occasionally when I’m with him – which is most days when he’s not touring – Never Gonna Give You Up is playing inside my head...
S: So this is very strange.
R: Is it?
S: Because now suddenly I have to think of you not as my lovely friend Rick, but as my lovely friend Rick who’s also a –
R: Famous person. The famous singing redhead!
S: Yes. I mean, of course I’m aware of it...
R: Listen, I’m in the same boat. I forget about it too. I’m quite happily walking by the river in East Molesey, or round and about, and then somebody says something which reminds me and makes me think: ‘Oh yeah.’
S: So you forget you’re famous?
R: Well, I don’t actually forget, but it’s not at the forefront of my consciousness all the time. Then again, I do regret that sometimes, when I’m in my raggedy old tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a scruffy old jacket that really needs to go in the wash. But then, that’s one of the things I like about this area: you don’t have to feel that you’re on show.
S: Are you recognised wherever you go?
R: No. You’ve seen how it goes: sometimes it happens four times in an afternoon that someone wants a selfie; other times I could jump on a table and start whistling Never Gonna Give You Up and no one would bat an eyelid. And I think that’s why I don’t walk out of the door feeling ever so conscious that I had records out. I think: ‘Ok, what am I gonna have with my coffee? Am I gonna have scrambled eggs or am I gonna have poached eggs? One of my happy places is beside the river. I never tire of walking over the bridge at Hampton Court and looking at that view. All the boats moored up and the palace on the other side. I’ve had a little boat and I really love it, pottering down the Thames. Just the pace of it. You can’t go fast, so it sort of takes you into another world. Walking by the river is great too. It energises me. And I love Bridge Road. I think that’s what people who come to Hampton Court would want a high street to look like. We’re lucky to have it because it’s quite varied, but it’s also very typically English.
S: What’s it like to play Hampton Court Palace? R: It’s amazing. Partly because it’s a historic, incredible building. It lifts the area that we’ve got this 500-year-old palace that’s world-renowned. I love history anyway – historical novels, history podcasts – so when I walk past the palace I don’t just think: ‘Ooh, those chimneys are nice.’ I think how utterly amazing it is that Henry VIII was there. When you’re lucky enough to be up on that stage, you’re aware that it isn’t a normal venue. Very often, in the summer, outdoors, you’re playing in a field. But this is very special. I don’t know what it’s like for Americans to play it. They must freak out!
I love Bridge Road. It’s what people who come to Hampton Court want a high street to look like.
S: You love a historical film too...
R: I’ve seen Gladiator so many times. And Spartacus. All the sword-and-sandal ones, I love all those. I find them very therapeutic. Especially when I’m making new music, like I am at the moment. The thrill of writing the thing and getting an idea of it down is amazing, and that’s spontaneous and lovely, but then you’ve got to craft it into a record that actually makes sense and that can take a while. So, for that, I like a cup of tea, a biscuit, 45 minutes of Gladiator. Boom.
S: What instrument are you best at? Because I know you play pretty much everything...
R: I can play a lot of things. The basics – drums, bass, guitar, keys. But I think that, if I’ve got anything, it’s just a taste – an opinion, a style, whatever. I don’t need to play like anyone else; I just want to play what I like. So, for example, I’ve not learnt all the jazz chords because that’s not really where my head’s at. And I’ve always felt that the limitations of a band or an artist is what makes them ‘them’. My limitations end up making the music that I make. I don’t say: ‘Well, I can play everything, in every single style, beautifully, so what record should I make?’ I just kind of mess around in the room until I get something I like the sound of.
S: You’re known for having an amazing voice, but you’re also a fantastic songwriter, which is often overlooked. With 50, you had a number one album on which you wrote all the songs...
R: Well, back in the day, I had eight top ten singles and Stock Aitken Waterman wrote four of them. I wrote three and the other one was a cover. Fair enough, they wrote Never Gonna Give You Up. Close the shop door. Job done. But I struggle with that these days; with wondering who wants to hear anything else. The kind of place that I find myself in, most of the gigs I do, there’s been a really amazing response to my new songs, but I don’t ever let myself forget that most people want to hear my old ones. So, the new music is kind of for me, really. And that’s true of most artists. But fans see things differently. Fleetwood Mac have made a new record? Great! I want to hear that – but they’d better play the old ones too!
S: So. Sheds...
R: Let’s do it.
S: During the pandemic, when there was no live music, you built a shed, on your own, from scratch...
R: Yeah. I wanted a strong one – foundations, stud walls, insulated, slate roof. I was asking myself: ‘What are you going to do for the next six months?’ The shed was the answer. I really enjoyed it. I did do a bit of manual labour as a kid. My dad had a little garden centre, so I’d come home from school and have to carry bags of cement and all the rest of it. Obviously, building your own shed is a fun thing to do if you don’t have to do it day in, day out. I don’t know, is that me being very middle-aged? I just love a power tool!
S: What’s your favourite?
R: Well, I’d have to say it’s my electric mitre saw. I think because there’s a precision to it. You’re not just randomly cutting things up; you’re measuring it properly and hopefully cutting the right angle.
S: So, where are you happier: a recording studio or Travis Perkins?
R: Hmm, interesting. There are so many possibilities when you walk into a studio. But it’s the same when you walk into a Travis Perkins. Or a Screwfix. Or Toolstation. It’s all in front of you!
S: Will you be bringing your saw to Hampton Court?
R: Well, I could do. I could knock up a very basic work table during She Wants to Dance With Me. ‘She wants to jig with me!’ Oh dear, oh dear. No, on second thoughts, I don’t think I’ll be bringing my power tools to the palace.
