HeyJaredRewind & Reveal
For reflective souls and pop pickers who owned the dancefloor back in the day and now want to own their story
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 12
- Latest publication
- Sep 25, 2026
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- Jul 10, 2026
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Walls come tumbling down (opens the original)
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Despite the fact that the festive period was one of the busiest in any magazine’s calendar, my publisher insisted I went on a management course. At night, in my hotel room, I wondered how the hell I’d reached this point. It had been almost 10 years since Betty Page got her first byline in Sounds and here I was, being taught how to be a better manager. Not very rock ’n’ roll. I remembered how much I’d enjoyed the freedom of those early years at Sounds, when all I had to worry about was whether or
The dying flame of Duranmania (opens the original)
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I hadn’t really spoken to Duran Duran’s John Taylor at the restaurant in Milan because the band had decided he would do the interview. I’d already gauged he was a changed man. He seemed thinner, more reserved than he had been. At the time I wasn’t aware that he’d had drug problems (which he later wrote about in his autobiography), but this was more than just cocaine burnout – it was deeper than that.In his hotel room, there was jazz on the portable CD system and a selection of Indian scarves dra
Lost in the hills and big in Italy (opens the original)
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After interviewing Tony Hadley, it took me more than a week to catch up with Gary Kemp. He had been ensconced in a studio, calmly mixing a track and finishing work on the next Spandau album, although even he admitted at one point that he was “lost in the hills”. You could always rely on Gary to come up with some serious contemplation. “Touring is like being in a boys’ own club where you never have to grow up,” he said. “Now we’ve been home for a year and sorted out a lot of things. We’ve all bee
Former New Romantics suffer pop fatigue (opens the original)
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As a music journalist who used a nom de plume (and often hid behind photos of the real Betty Page in bylines), I often flew under the radar. I lived in print, so public speaking was not a skill I’d ever needed to develop. It was, therefore, a surprise when, in the spring of 1988, I was invited to speak at the Oxford Union, the most prestigious university debating society in the country (if not the world). Accustomed to entertaining the great and the good, who usually took part in worthy politica
Right on one, matey... (opens the original)
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As the decade drew to its close, at least there was something to get excited about on the chart scene. A new kind of dance music, one that Record Mirror could trumpet, was ready to enter the mainstream. And a new generation of writers and DJs who’d grown up reading our very own James Hamilton’s Disco column had attached themselves to the magazine, keen to evangelise about this new sound of the underground. The music had emerged from the clubs of Chicago and Detroit, filtering through to speciali
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