Steve Strange: a beautiful maverick who understood the power of myth
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Version 0 of 1. The1980s began in 1978 when a young Welsh boy called Steve Strange waved his magic wand upon the heads of his young hopefuls waiting to descend the stairs into his Tuesday night dreamworld. Exotically dressed fashion students, ex-soul boys and disaffected punks, all redesigned on a shoestring, stood out boldly against the backdrop of grey, seedy Soho, unrecognisable from today’s alfresco, laissez-faire boys’ town. Related: 'The birth of the London club scene': Bowie Nights at Billy's Club – in pictures I first met his dark stare as one of those queuing outside Billy’s, the club on its uppers that he and Rusty Egan, the ex-Rich Kids drummer, took over for a few months during that seemingly endless time of late 70s recession. In my hand was a damp flyer saying Jump Aboard the Night Train and a sense that I was about to enter the next stage in the evolution of post-war British youth culture. Fortunately, he granted me entrance and I handed over my crumpled two quid. Inside Rusty played German electro records recently acquired on a pilgrimage to Berlin, while Steve played host with splashes of vitriol and the campest of common touches – always fancily dressed – as a Cossack with a quiff or maybe even a 1950s vision of the future. We trotted off to Covent Garden to a tired bar called Blitz when Billy’s became too small. Here our fame and attention grew. Steve soon had news crews and the odd ageing pop star to turn away, as well as having the overtly dressed youth to deal with. Newsnight were allowed access and a bewigged Peter Snow ended the article with a sniffy “Whatever next?” Blitz Kids were not initially based around a band and we jumped on the opportunity. One Saturday, Steve led his cognoscenti down to a rehearsal space to “audition” us. His blessing gave us our first gig at Blitz itself and on the cusp of the 1980s we became the “house band”. Steve’s magnetism and confidence drew a critical mass of like-minded artistic youth who, almost like a bunch of creatives on speed and cheap beer, set about designing the next decade. From punk, Steve had learned the DIY British-style of youth culture, but now that was dead and, as 1980 arrived, he convinced us that it was our turn. We had in-house designers, film-makers, writers and musicians, but our catalyst was Steve and his belief in all of us. Related: Steve Strange obituary Channel 4 was about to start as a “minorities channel”, but the power of Strange’s Blitz Kids had it changing its remit to youth. All eyes were on us and our host cleverly guarded the portal, offering only the occasional flashes of the inside. He understood the power of myth better than anyone and we were powered by it. As our star rose into the nation’s top 40 so too did Steve and Rusty’s. They headed up Britain’s first multi-floored club in the Camden Palace. Kids queued for miles, possibly just to be insulted and turned away, but mostly to belong. Steve’s original horde began to make films, become journalists, fashion designers, and choreographers. All of us had Steve to thank. He allowed us to believe we could be characters greater than we imagined we were. Sadly, Steve didn’t have quite the same cynicism to join those of us who leaped from those London playrooms into the world of the pop business and the unpowdered hard nose of reality. Steve found it difficult to leave his dressing-up box and dreams, but it was that childlike naivety that made him a beautiful maverick to the end. • Gary Kemp is an actor and founder member of the group Spandau Ballet |