Wham’s most controversial story, told by Andrew Ridgeley

How does a British pop group go about breaking America? The traditional answer has always been: tour, tour and then tour some more. Yet in 1985, Wham! – or more accurately, their savvy manager Simon Napier-Bell – had an altogether different idea, to do what no Western band had ever done before: perform in communist China. That way, Napier-Bell figured, George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley could ride the wave of global publicity all the way to America, making them household names before the need to even step foot on US soil. Genius? Cynical? Grubby? A mixture of all three? “I thought it was nuts,” says Ridgeley now, on video call from his home in London. “I couldn’t see how the goal would be achieved. It was incredibly expensive. It was incredibly risky. But I was convinced of the power of publicity to project Wham! in the way that it was being presented [to me].” It’s no exaggeration to say Wham!’s trip to China was one of pop history’s more substantial events: a clash of politics, cultures and ideologies – the oppressive communist wall meeting the capitalist pop machine via two flamboyantly handsome young men from Hertfordshire – that had previously seemed unthinkable. It was also one of pop’s strangest happenings. A new documentary on the BBC this weekend, Wham! 10 Days in China, shows how it all played out: a bizarre push-and-pull between Chinese dignitaries, an intrusive press corps, a doomed filmmaking attempt, confused but excitable locals, pressurised concerts, a near-tragic event and two pop stars in their early twenties in the middle of a geopolitical whirlwind. Using footage from the rare 1986 documentary Wham! in China: Foreign Skies and new material unearthed decades on, it is a fascinating watch: a grand plan forever teetering on the brink of collapse. ‘Wham! 10 Days in China’ was an emotional watch for Ridgeley: ‘Seeing George alive and singing, it’s always going to bring that aspect to it’ (Photo: Jo Hale/Getty) “I’m very pleased with it because it is a genuine and authentic account,” Ridgeley says. But it is also an emotional watch. “It’s got elements of sadness. Seeing George alive and singing, it is always going to bring that aspect to it. Lots of people have said that it’s brought them to tears.” By April 1985, Wham! were a pop juggernaut, with two number-one albums and a host of hit singles like “Club Tropicana”, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” and “Last Christmas”. But the ever-ambitious Michael had developed polyps on his throat during the 1983 Club Fantastic tour, and thought a gruelling tour of America – the sort needed to make Wham! global superstars – could cause permanent damage to his voice. Enter Napier-Bell’s flash of ingenuity. Since 1978, China, under the leadership of Deng Xiaoping, had been slowly more amenable to the west due to Xiaoping’s “Reform and Opening-up” policy. Napier-Bell knew that America had been a beneficiary. After 13 reconnaissance missions to China across 18 months, Napier-Bell secured an unprecedented two-concert trip. Ridgeley had to put his misgivings aside. “I was no fan of communism,” he says. “But I don’t think either of us felt that it was necessarily going to be historical.” He was wrong. Upon arrival, the pair were met by excited if confused locals, who were so insulated from the West that when one is asked about The Beatles in the film, she replies: “What means Beatle?” But the strange meeting with Chinese fandom was nothing compared with the pair glad-handing diplomats and ambassadors. Their unease was palpable: at a banquet dinner, the pop stars gave stilted speeches to the amassed dignitaries. It makes for awkward viewing. “George was really hacked off with the whole thing,” says Ridgeley. “He was deeply uncomfortable at the ambassador’s residence. But we were representatives of Western culture. We were prepared to behave well with our hosts.” Ridgeley and Michael at the Great Wall of China in 1985 (Photo: Martyn Goddard/Andrew Ridgeley/Big Geoff Overseas/ Robobuild t/a George Michael Entertainment) The tabloid press tagged along given the size of the story: the same press pack that had hounded Ridgeley in particular, with kiss-and-tell exposés, giving him the nickname “Randy Andy”. Even when he was meant to be on his best behaviour, such as during the press shots at the Great Wall of China, Ridgeley didn’t even attempt to hide his hatred of the press. It feels odd that at this point Michael, given the tabloid hounding he would later endure, actually enjoyed a much easier relationship with the press than Ridgeley. “His wasn’t nearly as antagonistic as mine. But I was an author of a lot of that antagonism myself, so I’ve only got myself to blame.” Then there was the documentary crew, led by film producer Martin Lewis. It was decided Lindsay Anderson, an auteur famous for arthouse films like If…, would capture the band. But Anderson, then 61, was more interested in China than Wham!, putting him at loggerheads with Michael throughout. “It was bloody nuts. And I said so. George thought that Lindsay Anderson’s name would attach cachet and credibility. But all we needed was an account of us being there, a long-form pop programme. Lindsay had no interest in that.” It left Wham!’s historical trip in something of a power struggle with vested interests from all participants: a pop band using a nation state as much as the nation state was using the pop band – there’s an incredible scene where Michael has this realisation dressed in just a towel while receiving a pre-gig buttock massage – with a self-interested tabloid press and film director as hostile to the band as the band were to them. “I think you summarised it well,” Ridgeley smiles. “Everyone would have been much happier if the other wasn’t there. It was a marriage of necessity.” The strain shows on the duo. Michael particularly was becoming uninterested in the ceremony and the staged scenes for the benefit of the cameras. One memorable scene sees him disappear at a meet-and-greet with fans, leaving a miffed Ridgeley. When asked about their relationship, Ridgeley tells the camera in front of a gathered crowd that it’s “stormy”. Was that true? “Oh no, no, nothing like it,” he says. “I was just flannelling to avoid saying – actually George wishes you guys would just feck off.” Wham!’s trip to China was a clash of politics, cultures and ideologies (Photo: Neal Preston) In among all of this, two concerts actually took place. The first was in Beijing on 7 April. Wham! gave an energetic performance, but were met with a blank crowd overwhelmed by the occasion, visibly unsure how to react. The lack of response irritated Michael: “F**king horrible I thought,” he said as he marched back to the dressing room post-gig. “George was certainly very unhappy and dissatisfied with the show,” says Ridgeley. The pair hadn’t realised the crowd had been warned by the authorities not to dance or express themselves: unbeknown to the band, those who did were beaten and thrown out by over-zealous security. “It was difficult for them. The Chinese audience was unsure how to react. It’s communist China. There was a lot of inhibition. But it was a decent enough show. It was unusual. There’s no doubt about that.” The assorted journalists put the authoritarian treatment of the crowd, as well as Michael’s alleged “too sexy” dancing, to the pair afterwards at an extremely tense and combative press conference. Ridgeley barely hid his disdain, completely unwilling to engage. “I mean, it could have gone better,” he smiles knowingly. “I’m not sure we had many worse, to be honest. I certainly didn’t help myself. I was in no mood to help myself. But it didn’t really matter what we said. It was going to be front-page news anyway. But the press had got the story they were looking for, which was the aeroplane incident.” Raul D’Oliveira, Wham!’s trumpet player, stabbed himself during a psychotic episode mid-flight between Beijing and Guangzhou (Michael and Ridgeley were on a separate flight.) Thankfully, despite what appeared to be a traumatic amount of blood, D’Oliveira was relatively unscathed. It was collectively decided that the show must go on. Improbably, the second gig in Guangzhou was an unqualified success. For the first time there was a sense of normality: the press had gone home, the band and crew warmed up for the show with a kickabout in the park, and the crowd was far more receptive than in Beijing. “People were familiar with Hong Kong radio. They understood pop music a whole lot more. And after the constraints and pressures of Beijing, it was a much freer show. And George’s demeanour, and his response to that far more relaxed environment, is visible.” Wham! and their tour party enjoy a meal in China (Photo: Martyn Goddard/Andrew Ridgeley, Big Geoff Overseas/Robobuild t/a George Michael Entertainment) For all the issues, Napier-Bell’s plan worked out. Wham! blew up in America, going straight on a stadium tour in summer 1985. The China trip catapulted Michael to global superstardom: how did he look back on it? “I don’t think he did. It was something that he was quite happy to put behind him. He didn’t enjoy being there, and understood that it was a necessary thing to have to do. He didn’t reflect wistfully.” And Ridgeley? “I didn’t have such a bad time there. It was a unique experience. There was a lot about it that was fascinating.” He smiles. “I’ll travel for a good Chinese.” But the legacy of the concerts in China has been substantial. Western acts do now play there, if not regularly. And the testimony in the film of locals who saw Wham! – going on to start bands and become DJs – tells its own story. “People were able to unshackle themselves from the perceptions and their expectations, and step forward on a path in life which perhaps they wouldn’t have done otherwise,” Ridgeley says. “You can’t really ask for a better legacy.” ‘Wham! 10 Days in China‘ is on BBC Two and BBC iPlayer on Saturday at 9pm