THERE is nothing like living up to your reputation, or at least your place in the world. It's a rainy day in London and the great and good folk, including Anthony Hopkins, are streaming out through the front doors of the posh Dorchester Hotel into the ground-floor restaurant.
Flash isn't new here. Fame isn't much more notable. Yet every head turns when a bright-red Ferrari pulls up, then eyes light up as the unmistakable spiky-haired head of Rod Stewart emerges from under the car's low roof.
He steps out of the car looking every inch the moneyed, semi-retired playboy: tanned, large sunglasses, linen trousers and two-tone tan shoes, a gentleman's shirt and loosely knotted two-blues tie and a traditional blue blazer. There is no grey visible in his golden-brown hair but there is visible wealth in the silver wristband-bracelets on his right arm and wedding ring on his left hand.
Advertisement: Story continues below
Would sir like an aperitif? A snifter of brandy or a glass of champagne? Some tea, perhaps?
Actually, no. Stewart has a specific requirement and I know this because I've been sent out to fetch his order - presumably, it's hard to juggle a coffee and steer a Ferrari around London. It must be from Starbucks and it must be a grande wet cappuccino with one shot of coffee, three raw sugars and a spare grande cup (to pour the mix into, apparently).
Starbucks has had a lot of his business. It could also have been his business. Stewart reveals that about 15 years ago he was offered the chance to invest in the company. He declined, thinking the English would not be enthusiastic about buying confected coffee from an American takeaway. His colleague, the sax-playing king of muzak, Kenny G, was not so sceptical and made ''25 or 30 million'', as the notoriously careful-with-his-money Stewart reports ruefully.
At 66, enjoying a third run at fame thanks to a series of albums interpreting the great American songbook, Stewart is an affable and relaxed man in conversation, very much at home in this establishment. Not bad for a working-class boy from north London. The day before we speak, I had been reading about an English actor torn about whether to accept becoming a dame; she was worried that it would contradict her working-class origins or honour it and her profession. Would Stewart have the same qualms? Hell, no. ''I would love it,'' he says.
''Well, I have a CBE and I accepted it with glee because it's not bestowed on you by the royal family, it's not bestowed on you by the government; you have to be nominated by the public,'' he says.
''I was over the moon with it … I never feel any aggravation from the public. I do feel a certain love from the British public.''
Is it just because he's been around long enough to become an object of affection? His career began as one of the great British R&B singers of the 1960s, took up disco and outright pop in the '70s and '80s and now, after the lucrative sojourn into standards (27 million albums sold, he boasts), is returning to his soul-and-blues roots for his Australian concerts. That's a lot of bases covered.
The thing is, he has never really done anything that outrageous or offensive. He is, after all, a family man who has, he explains, ''eight children [from] four mothers, three wives'' aged from six months to 48. If there was something wrong with taking up with attractive blondes, driving flash cars and wearing a hairstyle few sixtysomethings could carry off - and most people would struggle to see anything wrong in any of it - it's probably been balanced by his fondness for a pub, his model railways and, of course, his passion for English football.
''I've never done anything particularly scandalous,'' Stewart says. ''When I did the Piers Morgan interview [on US television], everybody said, 'You were so relaxed and I've seen people on that show crying and cringing.' And I said, 'Well, I've got nothing to hide. Absolutely nothing. My life has been an open book. I've never had problems with drugs, I've never been into rehab, I don't smoke. I enjoy a glass of wine and I love my football. I suppose it's because I'm a real working-class.'''
And that car he drives is a real working Ferrari.
■ Rod Stewart performs at Rod Laver Arena on February 17 and at Hanging Rock Reserve, Woodend, on February 18. Bernard Zuel travelled to London courtesy of Frontier Touring.
Source : http://www.smh.com.au/
0 komentar:
Post a Comment