Foreword

29 April 2019: social media is ablaze with the news that Boon Gould - co- founder, guitarist and lyricist for Level 42 - has died. It's a sad farewell to the original line-up of one of the most successful and iconic British bands of the 1980s. Their prestigious catalogue spans a seldom-documented, golden period for pop, and it may not even be so outlandish to suggest they defined that musical decade in the same way as Steely Dan did the 1970s and The Beatles the 1960s.

The band's effervescent hits 'Something About You' and 'Lessons In Love' were two of the most ubiquitous tunes of the era. Consequently they somehow became synonymous with Thatcher's decade, supposedly the favourite of yuppies and young 'Loadsamoneys'-about-town. Far from reflecting any political leanings, this was down to the effortless brilliance of their music and also their relative 'facelessness' as a brand; Level 42 never graced the covers of The Face, BLITZ or i-D. But their pop period also tended to obscure the band's roots as a first-rate jazz/rock/funk unit; even at their commercial peak, they were smuggling Stanley Clarke and Mahavishnu Orchestra licks into the charts, and chief lyricist/drummer Phil Gould was referencing highbrow works by Arthur Koestler, Hermann Hesse and E.M. Forster. In the memorable words of Q Magazine's Phil Sutcliffe, Level 42 were the 'musical equivalent of fusing The Sun and The Guardian', the ultimate 'fusion' band, streamlining high-octane jazz/rock into slick, soulful pop.

Bassist/lead vocalist Mark King was one of the most visible homegrown pop stars of the mid-to-late-1980s, world-famous for the furious slapping of his Jaydee Supernatural bass and press reports of Polydor Records insuring his right thumb to the tune of three million pounds. But he was also a world-class drummer, excellent songwriter and singer. In terms of pure talent, you could make a case that in the field of British 'pop' artists, his musicianship is second to none. And although Mark's 'thunderthumb' was apparently the band's USP, any fan will tell you that it was only a small part of Level 42's DNA. Also very much in the mix were the effervescent pop melodies of Todd Rundgren, Paul McCartney and James Taylor, hard funk grooves of James Brown and Sly & The Family Stone, progressive sounds of King Crimson, Yes and Genesis, mellow vibes of The Band, Lindisfarne and Fairport Convention, and classic fusion of Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis, Weather Report and Return To Forever.

I won't forget the first time Level 42 appeared on my radar. It was 27 January 1983 and, like millions of other young people across the UK, I was watching the BBC's flagship pop show Top Of The Pops. The band were miming their latest hit 'The Chinese Way' but didn't look or sound like anything else from the era. They had a punky energy and some otherworldly synth sounds courtesy of Mike Lindup and Wally Badarou, all undercut by the phenomenal rhythm section of Mark, guitarist Boon Gould and his brother Phil on drums.

Cut to 13 July 1985, the day of Live Aid. I was now a burgeoning musician and nascent album buyer, and, during a trip to the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street, bought the band's live double record A Physical Presence. It was my proper introduction to Level's music and I was blown away. I excitedly bought all of their earlier albums (and was perfectly primed to witness their pop breakthrough in the autumn of 1985), an absolute treat back in the days when whole swathes of an artist's catalogue could remain a mystery. It was the start of a musical love affair which has lasted over 35 years.

In their original iteration, Level 42 excelled at supplying two musical elements not exactly native to British shores: groove and virtuosity. They had something in common with other funky, homegrown units of the 1970s such as Kokomo, The Blockheads, Average White Band, and later, Shakatak, Morrissey- Mullen, Light Of The World, Incognito and Freeez, but were on a different planet in terms of raw musicianship, melodic sense and rhythmic propulsion. The band were initially nurtured by a readymade 'Britfunk' scene, but it was a scene they had outgrown, even by the time of their first top 40 single 'Love Games'. Though they shared some influences (Herbie Hancock, Lonnie Liston Smith, The Crusaders, P-Funk, Stevie Wonder), they were a far tighter proposition than the other Britfunk bands, with a raw energy and two world- class, jack-in-the-box talents in Mark and Phil. Theirs was a decidedly sparkier, more diverse - though always melodic - version of funk.

But how did they create such an original sound? Three of the band (Mark, Boon and Phil) originated from the Isle Of Wight, an island off the south coast of England, not exactly a funk mecca in the 1960s and 1970s but somewhat of a bohemian outpost. The famous Isle Of Wight Festival of 1970 had certainly put the island on the map (Mark told BBC Radio 1's Andy Peebles in 1984 that he remembers perching himself on a hill near the site and hearing - if not seeing - Jimi Hendrix and Miles Davis' famous sets). Records were not easy to get hold of; you had to order them at one of the few decent shops and hope the right album arrived in the post a few weeks later. In the mid-1970s, a few visual artists were making a good living on the island but not many musicians, though it was a vibrant, popular holiday destination during the summer months, with 'Hoo-ray Henrys' from London or Portsmouth filling the nightclubs, hotels and restaurants, giving seasonal employment to Mark, Phil and Boon.

Then there was the band's musical and cultural good fortune: luckily for Mark, the bass guitar was arguably the musical currency of the late-70s/early- 80s, with players such as Sting, Louis Johnson, Nick Beggs, Mick Karn, Verdine White, Jah Wobble, Tina Weymouth, Marcus Miller, Jean-Jacques Burnel and Peter Hook giving the instrument huge credibility. Every Britfunk and post- punk band had a notable bass-spanker, and Mark was perfectly placed to tap into the zeitgeist, though he used lighter strings than the aforementioned players and also had far more of a 'drumming' sensibility.

When Level 42 started, punk was still an influence on the UK music scene. As Mark mentioned to Q Magazine in 1994, 'If we'd been young guys ten years earlier, we'd have been punks'. (Interestingly, he included songs by The Stranglers and Siouxsie & The Banshees when choosing his top ten for BBC Radio 1 in 1984). But they were always far more musically proficient and jazz- influenced than 'bona fide' post-punkers such as A Certain Ratio and This Heat. Mark was also inspired by a conversation he had read between Return To Forever's Lenny White and Chick Corea about how there was no 'positivity' in punk, just a lot of complaining. Mark looked around at the picturesque surroundings of the Isle Of Wight and wisely decided against complaining, focusing rather on doing his 10,000 hours and mastering the technicalities of his instrument(s). As author Simon Reynolds points out in his book Totally Wired, 'If punk was a destructive response to boredom, you could say that post-punk was a constructive response'.

A lot of Level 42's success was also down to their Janus-like outlook - though often seen as pioneers of recording technology, they were keen to work with experienced producer/engineers such as Mike Vernon, Ken Scott and Jerry Boys, who learnt their trade during the 1960s pop boom. In the 1980s, a lot of store was placed in sonic clarity, but songwriting and arrangements were just as important to Level, as well as personal likeability. As Human League/Buzzcocks/ Altered Images producer Martin Rushent says in Totally Wired, 'To be a producer in the eighties required a mixture of being an electronics engineer, a computer whiz, a synthesist, a musician, a sound engineer, a diplomat, a psychologist...'.

Their natural musical diversity and inbuilt musicianship also helped. They were essentially a band of four multi-instrumentalists: Phil was proficient on drums, percussion and keyboards, Mike was a fine pianist and percussionist, Mark was a bass/drums/guitar triple-threat, and Boon was at home on guitar, bass or saxophone, and occasionally played keyboards in concert. They also became a true 'songwriters collective', though, arguably, lyricists Phil and Boon were the conscience of the band during their commercial peak; the former brought an interest in esoterica, psychoanalysis and science fiction, the latter always an original take on the love song.

It's also worth remembering that Level 42 were, are, and always have been, primarily a live band, best known for their dynamic concerts. But, as we'll see, their relentless touring commitments also had a positive influence on their recording and songwriting smarts.

Music fans - especially those into progressive rock or jazz/fusion - are usually mindful of their heroes 'selling out'. But if you're going to do it, DO it, and Level did it fantastically. After all, they were not exactly dealing in Mongolian throat-singing before 1985. They always had the building blocks: good melodies, good grooves, strong vocals. It was just a question of arrangement, plus Mark's increasing confidence as a frontman and top-line melody writer. 'Jazz purists accuse us of selling out, but I like the fact that we can do that. Miles Davis was at the cutting...