17

Not enough time for all that I want for you

You are on one side, I am on the other- are we divided? Why can’t we live together? There are no rights. This isn’t your decision. We need to talk of changing things but no one wants to listen. It doesn’t have to be like that. A heart on the inside, the same as any other- are we divided? Someone always has to suffer. We are broken; there’s no one left to change it- Is that the way it has to be? Why can’t we rearrange it? It doesn’t have to be like that. What is the secret in calling me a brother? Are we divided? Always one against the other. We are strong now. Put down the ammunition for what we know is right. Is gonna breakdown this division? It doesn’t have to be like that

Wanna know who you are,
wanna know where to start,
I wanna know what this means
wanna know how you feel,
wanna know what is real
I wanna know everything EVERYTHING

Was it all worth it?

So there I was, Andy Taylor of Duran Duran. The UK press had recently accused me of being the “wildest of the Wild Boys,” but I just couldn’t consume any more booze or drugs. Worse still, there was no twenty-four-hour room service tonight.
“Fuck off and leave me alone” was all I could muster.
I’d had enough. I needed a rest from this Groundhog Day cokefueled lifestyle. I realized that the consumption had to stop for the madness to begin to subside. For a while, success had brought us happiness and wealth beyond our wildest dreams. But the lifestyle we had aspired to, and for which we had worked so hard, became the very cancer that was starting to destroy us. Little did I realize how long it was going to take to repair some of the lives damaged as a consequence of our excess. For sure, we paraded around in our fast cars, with beautiful models on yachts in the south of France and the Caribbean, without needing to pay the bill at times (that came later). But it begs the question: Was it all worth it? Not too many people knew about our incendiary arguments or my fights with our management- and the dark depression and bitter resentments that these confrontations created. Neither did they know about the blood and the exhaustion, all from being constantly on the road, or about the mad cocaine binges, or the paranoia and insanity that was caused by being in the spotlight for what amounts to twenty-four hours a day.
We were hanging on by our fingernails.
We were called Duran Duran. This is the story of how we came to rule the world and nearly threw it all away.

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