Softly spoken and thoughtful, Gary Numan is far removed from the bombastic poser or isolated loner of pop lore. During the last couple of decades Numan’s influence seemed to have been forgotten, with poor PR moves, Mighty Boosh references and a fondness for light aircraft leading the first electro-pop star to be labelled a dinosaur, an irrelevant ’80s relic. But the past couple of years have borne witness to a subtle shift. Just as his predecessor Bowie has progressed from ’90s joke to noughties legend, Numan’s reputation has gradually been rehabilitated, assisted by name checks from the likes of Magnetic Man and Wu Tang Clan and credible collaborations with Battles and Trent Reznor. Slowly but surely, Numan has been re-established as an edgy, under appreciated innovator.
It was during a session with Numan’s first band, the punk-influenced Tubeway Army in 1978, that a chance encounter with a synthesiser sparked an interest in electronic music. “When I got into the studio there was a synthesiser in the corner,” recalls Numan, still speaking with a sense of wonder. “I’d never seen a real one before and luckily for me it was lying around the whole day. It was just a really cool sound… This massive bass growl came out of it and I thought ‘Fucking Hell!’ The room shook, it was just phenomenal. I’d never heard anything like it.” The self-confessed techy was hooked. “I just decided that that was what I wanted to do, musically, for the rest of my life. I had all these punk songs and I had to convert them in that one day. The record company hated it, so I had a bit of an argument with them about how I didn’t want to be in a punk band any more, I wanted to play electro music because I believed that was the future, my future anyway, because I had this instant obsession.”
Numan was by no means the first to fall in love with the synth, following as he was in the footsteps of Eno, Bowie, and Kraftwerk. But what makes Numan’s contribution so important was his unshakable conviction in a music scene dominated by guitar bands, that the synth had a central role in popular music. Luckily for Numan, this vision paid off. The Tubeway Army’s self-titled début sold out its limited run, but it was follow-up Replicas, rush recorded in five days, that proved to be the turning point. Embracing a pioneering electronic sound and distinctive sci-fi imagery, Replicas was a surprise hit, reaching No. 1 in the UK, and spawning a hit single “Are ‘Friends’ Electric?” This success gave Numan the momentum to break away from the band for good, and in 1979 The Pleasure Principle, his first official solo release, secured another No. 1, international attention, and provided Numan’s biggest hit, seminal electro-pop monolith “Cars”.
Aged just 20 when he transformed overnight into a mainstream popstar, an awkward presence hardly endeared Numan to the mainstream press. He is ambivalent about this early fame. “When you become successful, pretty much every aspect of your life is changed and I think when it happens to some people and you’re very young it’s all the more difficult… You can’t even deal with your first girlfriend let alone being world famous! It’s even worse when you’re a solo act, which I was effectively… and on top that I’ve got Asperger’s Syndrome, which means I don’t interact well. It was sort of the worst thing that could happen to someone like me at that age. On the other hand it’s also the most amazing thing.”
Numan’s tendency towards controversial outbursts, such as his outspoken support for Thatcher, attracted further negative press, and only last month Numan was quoted in the Daily Mail saying that he was planning to emigrate due to an increasing violence in British society. He is first to admit that he has made some PR mistakes in his time. “You make some good decisions and some stupid ones,” he admits, ” there’s no big plan and it all happens very quickly and you just try to deal with it the best you can as a human being.”
The excesses of his ’80s fame may, by now, have faded, but Numan remains a dedicated underground artist, currently touring his latest release Dead Son Rising. Numan’s productivity shows no sign of declining with follow up, Splinter, tipped for 2012. Unsurprisingly Numan, now in his fifties, claims to have no plans to retire. “When I was first starting out I couldn’t imagine doing it beyond 30. But then you get there and you feel like you’ve just got going and you think, what was I thinking? I’ve got more ideas than I could possibly write down in a day. So many people seem to get to 40 and they just run out of ideas. Why does that happen? If you’re a creative person, you’re an idea-making machine and I don’t understand why that stops. My brain is fizzing all the time.”
Headstrong as ever, Numan shows no signs of mellowing. “Most people get to 40 and they’re doing ballads, and going to dinner parties and all that shit. But me, I’m more angry now than when I was a teen! Maybe it’s because I’ve got kids and they drive me mental!” he laughs. “The albums that I make now are really heavy and getting more so.” Clearly a perfectionist, Numan admits that he nearly discarded his new album (“I felt sorry for the producer… I thought I’d sent him a turd to polish.”) before a second listen and encouragement from his wife made him reassess. “I dread to think how many songs I’ve erased when I was having a bad morning, and it would have been alright if I’d waited.”
Numan’s influence is hard to quantify. By popularising the synthesiser, he paved the way for the ’80s synth-pop boom, allowing acts like Depeche Mode, Ultra Vox and The Human League into the mainstream. He is honoured by the range of artists who are linked to his work. “It seems to be pretty much across the board. I’ve had people from heavy metal bands, hip hop, dance… I’m much prouder of that than the No. 1s; to have other people cover your songs is pretty special.” It is a testament to Numan’s lasting impact that, after years in the wilderness, his reputation is being rehabilitated. Numan is characteristically self deprecating. “Instead of having a career like a well-oiled machine I’m just pathetic!” he laughs. “Ridiculous! I didn’t tour America for 16 years! How can you possibly break America without touring? I’ve done more to shoot my career in the foot than any critic ever could.”
Embarrassed by talk of his legacy, Numan admits he never listens to the old stuff. “I’m not one of those people to lay back on past glories, I think you’re only as good as the next album. I might have had No. 1 albums in the past but that doesn’t mean I deserve to be here now. I deserve to be here now because of my last album, and I deserve to be here next year because of the next album I make.” Numan’s final words are a statement of intent that would shame many a former rock star, lazing around the country house, performing greatest hits tours.”You have to earn it all the time. If you’re not earning it then get out.”