It is said there are six degrees of separation between any two people in the world. Between myself and Spandau Ballet front-man Tony Hadley, it turns out there are only two. Not surprising you might think, given my interest in the drinks industry and the relaunch of Hadley’s Gold beer. But actually our chain of acquaintance is far less routine.

Hadley loves a song. As he arrives for the interview he is full of them – he sings as he comes through the front door, hums down the hallway and carries his lyrics all the way to the bathroom to put some “product” in his hair, and where he is still perfectly audible. Maybe these are lyrics from his new “contemporary album”, one of two records out next year. Probably he just likes to sing. 

When he’s seated and we’ve chatted about his soon-to-be-removed moustache, among other things, Hadley’s at it again, this time with more familiar lyrics. “That’s neat, that’s neat, that’s neat, that’s neat, I really love your Tiger Feet… Do you know the band Mud? I’ve written a lot on this new album with Rob Davis who did all the Kylie stuff and was the guitarist in Mud.” 

Most people have a claim to fame, in one tenuous way or another. Mine isn’t even mine. It is that my father was once an early and brief member of ’70s Glam Rock band Mud. “Really? Bloody hell… really? Shit. It is a small world,” says Hadley and reveals how he knew, or knows, many of the band members. “Speak to your dad about Rob Davis – I’m doing a writing session with him on Monday.”

For a good while there I’m no longer a booze hack, I’m in the scene, shooting the shit with Spandau Ballet’s front-man. We get straight into song-writing and what comes next after you’ve done “love, angst, splitting up with girls, how the world should be a better place”? We chart the progression, or perhaps regression, of the music industry, the fashion of the almost-genderless New Romantics, of which Hadley played a central and buffoned part. And we get a little deep when we discuss the changing social scene of Britain in the ’70s and ’80s. Particularly how a young man from north London had only boxing, football and three – not 300 – channels on TV as interests, and how it was no wonder there was a music and fashion rebellion. 

Loquacious

We discussed all this because Hadley is endlessly loquacious and because – mercifully – he shows no signs of media-fatigue. But mainly because he was the front-man of one the biggest bands the world has seen and done a few things in life. Our meandering narrative eventually leads us to where we should have started, to the drinks industry and Hadley’s Gold. 

“I wasn’t up all night with that one,” he says about the name. “It is made from lager ingredients brewed as an ale. It’s a bit different. We relaunched it two or three months ago with Great Yorkshire Brewery. Now it’s full steam ahead.” 

Hadley has been here before. The first incarnation of Hadley’s Gold was produced between 2007 and 2012 by a microbrewery in Bury St Edmonds, a small operation that was well-intentioned but got too big too quickly. “We had our own brewery, Red Rat Craft Brewery. The beer we were producing was pretty good. I just wasn’t happy with some of the quality and consistency. When it was good it was great, but it just wasn’t consistent enough – brewing is a science. You’ve got to be 100% dedicated and I wasn’t, if I’m honest – I was off doing my music stuff. I felt it was better to close things down and start again.”

With the Great Yorkshire Brewery’s Jo Tailor and Phil Lee brewing the beer under licence, Hadley feels the eponymous sequel is in good hands. “I get paid per bottle, per cask. It’s a bit like a musician’s royalty actually. I learned a big lesson from the first venture – get the best people in. And these people know their onions.” 

British ale has a divided reputation. There’s the hipster-led craft brewing scene fronted by the likes of Meantime and Camden, Brewdog and Innis & Gunn, but also the beers whose bottle or pump clip are adorned by steam trains and are mostly drunk by men who spot them. “What I can do is bring an awareness of real ale, that it’s not a pipe and slippers drink,” says Hadley. 

Sex, drugs and real ale has a ring. “Actually I never did the drugs and I was married young so the sex didn’t come into it. I didn’t like Champagne – it gives me heartburn. But I got on to real ales when I used to go to the Cotswolds. I used to go in this pub and ask for a light and lager – I’d never had a pint of real ale in my life. They looked at me as if I was from planet Zog.  “They said, have it if you really want but try the ale. So I tried it and thought ‘it’s not fizzy but it’s got a lot of taste’. That was it.” 

What about the rest of the band? “They’re all lager merchants – every single one of them. Though saying that, Gary [Kemp] has come over to real ale… actually Steve [Norman] has come over too.” 

Hadley also likes wine – right now he’s into whites from France and reds from Spain or Sardinia. And in the spirits world, perhaps picked up from his band days, Hadley has acquired a taste for American whiskey. “Jack [Daniel’s] is that rock ’n’ roll drink,” he says and tells of his prized Jack Daniel’s Frank Sinatra special edition – one freebee he had no problem accepting. 

Hadley is a big fan of the New York crooner and the music industry widely but says a lot of bands – Mud included – didn’t make much money at it. “The music business is a god-awful business. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been ripped off in one way, shape of form.” Hadley talks of the skulduggery – particularly in the US in the ’70s – that saw trusting artists given scant reward for their efforts and said the industry was once riddled with organised crime.  

“People talk about Frank Sinatra and his Mafia ties but the fact is the Mafia owned the clubs, so if you wanted to play in the clubs, whether you were Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett, you had to mix with those kinds people. I actually met Mafia guys in Italy. There’s a picture of me with the heads of all the Sicilian Mafia. We were in a restaurant and because I’m quite well known in Italy, they all wanted a picture with me. What am I going to say? No?”

Partnership

Those days are hopefully behind us. Besides, Hadley owns his own music company and from what he says about his brewery partnership he’s well looked after there. In fact, he has high hopes for Hadley’s Gold. The brand debuted at the wholesaler Ooberstock in November under exclusivity and is rolling out to other accounts in due course. 

“It would be nice to have a reputation for ale – we’re not just going to do Hadley’s Gold, there’ll be an IPA and possibly a porter. If we export to every country and supermarket under the sun and every pub has our ale, I’ll be very happy,” says Hadley and reports that a drinks industry friend in Australia is looking to take some of his beer too. But that said, Hadley is keen to be cautious. “We’ll expand but slowly this time – I think we all got too excited last time.”

You get the feeling Hadley mostly just wants to drink his own beer in a British pub. Preferably his own village pub, which the residents own, and preferably with family and friends. “I get invited to the opening of envelopes but I don’t like it if I’m honest,” he says. “I’d rather go down the pub with my mates – I love ale and I love pubs.”  

In a world where booze is big business, it’s nice to hear that sometimes it is still made out of love.