Will Nothing Stop This Man?

Saddled with a cheesy teen-idol past and kiss-of-death UK superstardom, manic pop thrill Robbie Williams is bent on taking America nonetheless.

Interview by Tom Lanham. Photos by Sheryl Nields. Click here for photos from the interview.

Robbie Williams has faced a lot of obstacles in his decade-long career. More than he cares to recall. As a former teen heartthrob from fluffy UK chart sensations Take That, Robbie reckons he’s endured four career phases: “I was in a boy band, then I was sh**, then I was a clown, then I was successful, then I was credible.” The soft-spoken 24-year-old, having lived all of his post-pubescent life in the British tabloids, was already a survivor of multiple substance abuses before launching a solo career that has slowly returned him to fame, at a price. “Blokes basically just walk up to me and go ‘Cunt!’ Getting off trains: ‘Cunt! Walking down the street: ‘Cunt!’ That’s painful. I’m like, ‘Why am I a cunt? I am not a cunt!’”

Williams--all tracksuit casual and impish giggles--is lounging poolside at Los Angeles’ posh Sunset Marquis Hotel. He’s flown in to industry-show-case songs from The Ego Has Landed a Capitol-licensed compendium of his two British solo albums. This very afternoon, California has provided his hugest hirdle yet, in the form of two scantily clad, porn-star models dubbed Blondage. The situation is in hand when the gorgeous girls pose beside Williams, sipping a crotch-mounted margarita from his purple Speedos. The situation is still in hand when he wades into the hotel pool, with Blondage slithering up and down the handrail above his head. Then: disaster. The photo shoot switches to a bubble jacuzzi, Williams doffs his trunks, and the babes inch closer. Before the pop star knows it, he blushes, “I had a steamin’ hard-on in that Jacuzzi, and it really got in the way.” Did the models notice? “Yeah!” Williams beams. “They were rubbing themselves against it--sooooo naughty!”

To a casual onlooker, the satirically decadent photo session paints Williams as something of a sexist pig, happy to abuse the women around him. Talk to the guy and the picture changes. Robbie, son of a Stoke-On-Trent comedian and pub owner, is still a big goofy kid basking in all his hard-(w)on glory. His second solo disc, I’ve Been Expecting You, has sold over four million copies. Last year, he headlined the Glastonbury festival’s largest crowd ever. His latest single, the trend-humping “Millenium” topped the charts. He regularly hobnobs with Britpop royalty(such as members of Pulp, Blur and the Bluetones, not to mention Tom Jones and Sir Bono) at snooty after-hours rookeries like the Groucho Club and the Soho house. (Entree into London pop society wasn’t too difficult for the lad: “You take some drugs and make people laugh--or drink a whole lot,” he chuckles, “and you’re inducted no matter who you are.”) He’s dated an All Saint and consorted with Spice Girls. And, asked by Prince Charles at his birthday show what Robbie had canceled to make the appearance, Williams replied, “Nothing, apart from world domination.”

Not that the performer, whose onstage persona is somewhere between Elton John on speed and Henry Rollins with a singing voice, doesn’t still have a lot to answer for. “I hated Take That toward the end,” he grouses. “That level of obsession and fanaticism just scared the living daylights out of me.” Examples of such obsession include two Finnish girls who stalked him around his hometown and, after being snubbed, enacted revenge by urinating on his driveway; a German bus company which showed up every Thursday at half past three (“They’d get off the bus, 53 of ‘em, and run through my gardens and nick patches of grass”); and don’t even get him started on the groupie that made it her life’s mission to deflower the fellow at the tender age of 16. “Basically you’re not you when you’re onstage, you’re not you when you’re in public,” says Williams. “You put on a persona, and all these people were really in love with this persona, which wasn’t me.”

Now--with the help of co-writer/keyboardist Guy Chambers--Williams swears he’s found himself. He knows it’s an uphill battle in the States, but things have been looking up during this warm LA sortie, which included demo pants off an invite-only crowd with self-effacing asides and solid tunes, and to top it off, this little romp. Sure, his libido ran wild with Blondage, he sighs. “I’m 24--it’s allowed to!” And he already has big plans for the rac negatives: Those are gonna make some great Christmas cards, maybe with a little pop-up penis in the middle that says ‘Welcome to Stoke-On-Trent! I hope you enjoy your stay!’”

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