For music fans of a certain age, their first taste of synth-pop came by way of Human League, thanks to the 1981 multi-platinum chart-topping single “Don’t You Want Me,” which also became a heavy-rotation favorite during the early days of MTV.
Fast forward to the present and the natives of Sheffield, England are embarking on The Generations Tour, a string of dates on which they share a bill with fellow veteran new wave Brits Soft Cell and Alison Moyet. Fresh off a pre-tour rehearsal with bandmates Joanne Catherall and Susan Ann Sulley, Human League vocalist Philip Oakey was ebullient about what fans can expect on this live music jaunt.
“It’s going to be more or less a variation of what we always do, maybe a little bit more of an emphasis on making sure we touch on the different periods we do and touching on representations of all the ages and that,” Oakey said in an early May interview. “We’re mainly a touring band, but very slightly a set of ambassadors to a time that doesn’t really exist anymore.”
For Human League, that era was the early ‘80s, when they emerged from a hugely industrialized urban environment that also proved to be the epicenter of an early techno-pop music scene that included ABC, Cabaret Voltaire, Thompson Twins and Heaven 17 (which split off from Human League in 1980…more on that later). And while Oakey became more known for his role in new wave dance music, his roots were in glam (“I will go to my deathbed loving T. Rex,” he said.)
Another major influence, surprisingly enough, was progressive rock.
“My generation was very prog. I still love prog,” Oakey said. “I still listen to Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Jethro Tull and people like that.”).
That musical path began to shift when a former schoolmate of Oakey and Ian Craig Marsh — Martyn Ware — asked the former to be their vocalist despite Oakey having no singing experience.
“I was stuck on a stage and they made me do it,” Oakey recalled. “I knew some guys who were in a little electronic band three piece [called The Future]. Korg was really big in Britain. There was another strand of music starting up because the Japanese had started making affordable synthesizers. We all loved Keith Emerson and the Moog, but we couldn’t afford them. I think Korg came out with a little synth and my mates got one. They started a little trio and were doing what I thought were very, very good little recordings. They fell out with one guy and said they needed another guy on stage with them and they asked if I would do it. I said yeah, I’d love to.
“I had almost no confidence because I’m a naturally shy person,” Oakey said. “I just loved the idea that they were going in a new area. I’ve always had a bit of an infantile love of the novel. To be part of that was fantastic for me.”
The quartet of Ware, Marsh, Oakey and film technician Philip Adrian Wright released a pair of albums under the Human League name — 1979’s “Reproduction” and 1980’s “Travelogue.” But a disagreement over whether the band should cling to its electronic roots or pursue a more commercial pop sound found electronica traditionalists Ware and Marsh splitting off to form Heaven 17. In retaining the Human League name, Oakey also assumed all the debts and commitments that necessitated both he and Wright to round out the new group’s lineup. The solution came in the form of Catherall and Sulley, two 17-year-olds dancing together at Sheffield’s Crazy Daisy Nightclub. Oakey approached them, asking them to join as dancers and incidental vocalists with the Human League.
“We had to do a tour or we were going to be sued into bankruptcy for the rest of our lives,” Oakey said. “We were looking for something to support the vocals in the way that Martin Ware used to. He’s actually a very, very good singer with a wide range who covered a lot of the higher bits. We just needed someone to sing high. We auditioned a few people — people we’d seen in clubs that listened to music we liked, David Bowie, Roxy Music, Japan, all that stuff. And while they knew Human League, we were not their favorite band. First of all, they liked Japan, and more than anything, David Sylvian was their idol. Then Gary Numan and then us. We asked if they wanted to come along? It wasn’t sex, drugs and rock and roll. We weren’t really those kinds of people and they came along. Somehow, it all just fitted really well.”
The global success Human League had with the 1981 album “Dare” and the blockbuster single “Don’t You Want Me” was followed by a number of other hit singles, including “Mirror Man” and “(Keep Feeling) Fascination,” before the band (which also included bassist/keyboardist Ian Burden and guitarist/keyboardist Jo Callis from 1981 to 1984) hit a bit of a commercial lull. The group (with Burden and drummer Jim Russell rounding out the 1985-August 1986 lineup) rebounded in 1986 with “Crash,” the band’s fifth album. It was produced by the duo of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and not only did it yield “Human,” the band’s second No. 1 single in the states, it’s a time Oakey looks back on fondly.
“Jimmy and Terry saved our careers at that point,” Oakey said. “We spent four months in Minneapolis and they were very hospitable, really lovely guys. We were at a low point and had lost our confidence. Those guys were straight with us and said we didn’t have a full album there and they were going to put some tracks on that. They knocked themselves out to make sure the singing was as good as it could be. We didn’t really try hard with singing at that stage. We were more of an electronic band that sort of threw a vocal on. But they were determined for the singing to be good. And it was such good training to sort of do proper records. It left a huge impression. Every day, I think of something we did during that time period.”
While Human League is currently focused on touring, Oakey says the band (now a trio with Catherall and Sulley still on board) has enough material for a tenth studio album. But finding sympathetic producers willing to be more collaborative versus taking over everything beyond recorded vocals is the main obstacle. In the meantime, the 70-year-old new wave elder statesman remains grateful for the career he’s enjoyed.
“I owe our public a lot,” he said. “I don’t deserve to be doing this job. I should be working in a bookshop or something somewhere. And luckily, I’m here in the studio with lovely gear around me.”