Back in the Eighties, Go West lead singer Peter Cox scored a string of hits, including We Close Our Eyes, Call Me and King of Wishful Thinking. The band split in 1993, and Peter relocated to California, only to reunite with guitarist Richard Drummie in 2000; they’re still performing today. Peter, 60, lives with his partner, Claire, in Surrey.
What was your first job and how much did it pay?
I worked as an insurance clerk in the City, earning £16 a week, but by the time I paid for my travel there wasn’t a lot left over. I joined at 16 straight from school and stayed six months, which was enough. My attention span seemed to last just six months in the early days before I became a professional musician.
How did your childhood influence your attitude to money?
My dad was a gambler and my mum reckoned it was good we didn’t have any money because he’d have just gambled it all away. We weren’t wealthy, and when I did make any reasonable money I was definitely a spender for a brief period.
My mum was a housewife and when I was young dad drove a van delivering periodicals to US Air Force bases in the UK. I railroaded my parents into letting me leave school early. I was fairly bright and obviously they hoped I’d go to university, but I was much too interested in football and girls.
How much was your first record advance with Go West?
When Go West got signed, I was finally in a position to take out a mortgage and bought my first flat. I don’t remember any vast sum, but when the album became successful it was a pleasant experience when big cheques started dropping through the letterbox.
I bought a two-bedroom flat in Teddington in 1984. I paid £36,250 and sold it 12 years later when I moved to America, though I can’t remember how much for. It would have been a much better investment to hang on to it because I don’t own property now.
I live with my girlfriend, who has her own house, so I like to say, I have an arrangement with my landlady.
Are you a spender or a saver?
Now I’m a saver. It’s fairly predictable, I had a brief period when I made a comparatively large amount of money but then relocated to California and did very little.
For five years I enjoyed life and didn’t do much, living off dwindling royalties. Again it would have been sensible to buy property in California, but instead I rented for five years, which was fairly expensive. One reason I came back to the UK was that I needed to earn some money.
Have you ever struggled to pay the bills?
Definitely. Starting out, I was scratching around, not terribly motivated to work in the real world, playing gigs in a nightclub three nights a week for £90. The rest of the time I sat around listening to music and watching television. I could have done a second job and earned a lot more, but that wasn’t my mindset.
We Close Our Eyes was a smash-hit debut in 1985. How did your lifestyle change?
You’re in at the deep end with success as a professional musician and that meant Richard and I were constantly promoting our record. Our record label lent us money to make our record and videos, which were expensive.
Godley & Creme, who were fashionable at that time, directed our first video. But instead of providing a storyboard, so that the record company knew what they were spending their money on, it was more a case of “We’ve got Godley & Creme to direct – how much do they want?”
Our first video cost more than the entire recording process. We made our first album in an inexpensive basement studio, but, of course, videos are all about image – that’s what record companies spent money on in that era.
How did it feel to be famous overnight?
When Richard and I performed at the Hammersmith Odeon, it felt so special having seen so many bands there over the years. I remember wishing the audience would stop screaming and listen. Nowadays it would be nice to have a scream or two, so be careful what you wish for.
I didn’t have a driving licence and used public transport all the time. But if you’re on television promoting your record twice a week, you start to get those looks, which is an odd feeling. By the end of 1985 we’d had four hit singles in the UK and I hadn’t felt entirely comfortable. But, of course, six weeks after your last television appearance you’re invisible again.
You hit the jackpot when your anthem King of Wishful Thinking featured in the movie classic Pretty Woman. Was it your most lucrative hit?
Yes, it’s the song from the catalogue that generates any worthwhile royalties. I’m very happy to have been in the right place at the right time with Pretty Woman.
We were writing our Indian Summer album when the film company approached our label to come up with the soundtrack for a film starring Richard Gere and Julia Roberts. It was really a showcase, with a song each from all the artists on the label. We were considerably less successful than Robert Palmer, Roxette or Natalie Cole, but we had an extremely commercial song and got promoted up the ladder when other artists didn’t deliver. I’m guessing, but I’d say that King of Wishful Thinking has earned six figures since the movie came out.
What has been your best buy?
I suppose the one sensible thing I did was buy a flat early in my recording career.
And your most indulgent purchase?
At the time of Go West in 1985, I bought my then girlfriend a brand-new blue Mercedes 190E for £30,000, which was my biggest splash. To say it was a surprise was an understatement. My dad didn’t live far away, so I arranged for it to be delivered on his drive. We walked around and there it was wrapped with a bow tie – there was a bit of screaming as I remember.
Have you learnt any harsh money lessons?
Richard and I have said many times that it’s much more important to put out a halfway decent record at the right time than the best record you could possibly make a year and a half too late. Timing is really important.
The difficult second album is a hoary old cliché in the music industry, but as we now know from bitter experience, we definitely suffered. We took far too long coming up with the songs. Had we recorded an album of covers, things might be different now.
What has been your best money‑making year?
Probably 1986, when the royalties came through from our first album, which was in the UK charts for over a year. I definitely didn’t make £1m but maybe £250,000.
Do you gig these days out of pleasure or necessity?
I really enjoy it, but I also need to work, so it’s a good job that it’s such a pleasure. I’m not in a position to retire to a Caribbean island.
You’re starring at the Rewind festival in August. Can you bear singing King of Wishful Thinking again?
Of course. I’ve had a hand writing those songs, so to sing something when I’ve been part of the creation is great. Those songs have been really good to me, and you could argue that they’re the major reason why we’re still able to play festivals in front of 20,000 people.
What’s your biggest extravagance?
I have a guitar collection, including several Gibsons, which is a bit embarrassing for someone who isn’t as accomplished as he’d like to be, but there’s something aesthetically pleasing about them that I enjoy.
How do you pay: cash, debit card or credit card?
I’m from that generation that still likes to have money in their pocket. After standing behind a man paying for his cappuccino by credit card, I made the mistake of voicing my opinion on Facebook. So many people wanted to argue – it was my most contentious post.
What advice would you give pop stars once the hits dry up?
It’s nice if you’re successful and make money, but if you can continue being a professional musician doing something you love, I reckon life’s pretty good.
What’s the most pop starry thing you’ve ever done?
When we were promoting King of Wishful Thinking in America, we arranged to fly back to the UK before Christmas to do our shopping. However, the record company wanted us to stay and promised to fly us back on Concorde.
I remember thinking how small the cabin was – I couldn’t even stand upright. I was attempting to lay off wine because of the calories, but when the hostess served vintage Krug, I had to say: “I don’t mind if I do!”
Peter Cox’s latest solo CD Damn the Brakes is available at petercox.tmstor.es. Tweet @peterjohncox
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