Original subtitles

Still Growing Up was a sort of continuation of sorts really

from the Growing Up Tour.

It was doing it in a different environment,

and sort of get up on a stage, concentrate on the music,

a sort of sweatier, dirtier thing in a lot of ways,

in gigs that we wouldn't have been able to take the big tour into.

And the reason it's Still Growing Up

is because it's substantially the same as Growing Up,

but as in life, it's a long process that carries on and on.

Where the hell are we?

We're landing in Milan's Malpensa.

We're in Lecce.

Rome. We're at the edge of Lake Geneva.

In Chambéry. Naples.

We're here in Montecatini Terme. We're now in Nice.

The wonderful Greek amphitheatre in Taormina.

Beautiful place. It's really hot here.

On the first Growing Up Tour,

there was quite a lot of pressure and stress.

There were some tensions within the band.

There always are in any band.

But on the Still Growing Up Tour,

the same people had got used to each other's strengths and weaknesses.

It was much more easy going.

I think everyone felt there was a bit more room to be themselves off stage

and to be themselves musically on stage.

In Austria we started off, I think, in the mountains, in snow,

and then came down and played by lakes or in town squares.

It was a different type of tour

with sort of less pressure and more focus on the music.

What's interesting is that there's a whole different physical process

when you just arrive at the gig before you go on stage.

So in these gigs,

you can't sound check at them cos they're festivals,

so we're just coming in and out.

And it's more...

I just remember the stars of old arriving in their limousine,

playing and then getting out.

I think I generally do trust people. I'm an optimist.

I'd rather be in a world where I trust people

and I'm occasionally disappointed,

than one where I'm afraid of being

let down or done over all the time

and I'm occasionally surprised.

The crew on any tour are the engine that drives the whole thing,

so, you've gotta look after your crew.

At the same time at the beginning of a tour,

you're torn in a thousand directions.

I find that once the tour's got going it's easier sometimes then

to try and connect and to spend a bit of time with the crew and so on.

We try and eat in the same areas and that sort of thing.

I mean, there is still a them-and-us thing sometimes,

but I think less so than on a lot of tours.

I think when you get it right,

and you know you're innovating or breaking through barriers,

that's exciting and rewarding.

I don't believe in this concept of genius at all.

I think, you know, Einstein was probably a genius.

But, you know, I'm also smart enough to work with very talented people.

David, well, he's a sculptor.

He still is, with his approach to sound.

A purist is probably a good word for David.

Rachel, I think, is a mixture of

Manhattan downtown hipster, jazzer.

She's sort of either right in it or right out of it.

Mel's fascinating to watch,

and obviously as her dad, I'm enormously proud.

Tony, canny, lanky.

Ged's the engine driver.

He's also the most eager to please in some ways.

Rich...

He makes me laugh cos, you know,

he's an enormously talented, gifted musician

and can handle almost any musical problem thrown at him,

but again, there's a part of him

that would be really playing at being the rock star,

but really loving it.

I think there's quite a lot of sort of your inner life

which should be only let out in appropriate situations

with appropriate people.

You know, that sometimes, too much information is given,

and we live in a pretty dysfunctional world

and celebrities and visible people are often quite needy people,

and so I think there's quite a lot of baggage that comes with that.

So although I think it's really powerful

from all the therapy that I've done,

when you do unload it should be in the right place,

at the right time,

and most important of all, to the right people.

Anger, for instance.

People will often dump on the wrong person.

Mr David Rhodes.

Am I a good boss? I think I try and be a fair boss.

I think a lot of musicians I see,

whenever they've got dirty work to do,

telling people they're not wanted or they're doing something wrong,

they'll often get managers or somebody else to deliver the message.

I don't do that,

but I think sometimes, you know, I'm not assertive enough

with what I want or what I feel about things.

That fudges the issue sometimes and makes it complicated.

No dreams come without a bill, you know,

and people forget that sometimes and I forget it sometimes.

So I think the reality of making something happen,

most times, it's just a ton of hard work.

And I remember having that clear dream

whether I chose the farm route or the music route,

and I had pictured performing at concerts,

even though I didn't really have a desire to be a singer,

I wanted to be a drummer.

So I felt I got a little taste of the future.

I wanted to be an engine driver for a while.

An opera singer or an astronaut.

I wanted to be a kid.

I either wanted to be a spaceman or Jimmy Osmond.

I wanted to be Superman and I was convinced I could fly,

when I ran round the apple trees in the garden.

Marine biologist.

I seem to remember wanting to be Scottish.

I regularly used to...

dream of being in a band.

Burn You Up.

Often people think that artists are special,

unique or exceptionally talented.

I don't. I think most artists are visible...

In fact, most people that are visible in the world

are there because they need to be,

and that we're actually very flexible creatures,

that we can acquire talent.

And I'm convinced you could go up to anybody in the street,

with a gun to their head and tell them

this was going to go off in 12 minutes' time

if they hadn't produced and interesting piece of art,

and all sorts of artists will appear out of nowhere.

At the same time, I think what I do

is still unique and special in some way,

because, in part, of the different experiences that I've had.

I've put things together

in a different way than other people would probably.

I think talent is very overrated.

Most of the arts are languages to me.

Music, painting, film, photography. There used to be this idea

that you had to be born with a lot of talent

to have a chance of succeeding in these areas,

but you don't say you have to be born with a talent

for French or Italian or German or Chinese,

you just happen to live in the place long enough and you pick it up.

That's what I feel about most arts.

Most of us start off using the voices of the people we love, you know,

you just try and copy someone.

And then gradually, you're either not very good at copying them

or your own voice gets louder and louder,

and you find out who you are,

but I think, you know, it took me three solo albums

and quite a few years with a band

before I think I found who I was musically, if you like.

I was doing some gigs in Germany with Frank Zappa.

We were supporting Frank Zappa

and his audience in Berlin were very much sort of old hard-core hippies

and, you know, they thought I was just cheap shit.

The booze was just...

And this sort of rain of stuff being thrown on the stage,

so that was...

It was very humbling.

Next night, we were in another German city.

I thought, "Shit, here we go. "

And we go out there again and similar sort of reaction, you know.

They hate it.

But it wasn't just the music, it was me personally, you know.

They meant it.

And suddenly, I had the one of those moments,

and I thought, "That's it, I'm no longer afraid. "

The thing you're most scared of when you get on a stage

is being rejected and booed off,

and I suddenly realised I'd been booed off and I was still up there.

They didn't like it any more

but I was still doing it and they couldn't stop me.

I thought... and I just started giggling.

Tony Levin looked over like I'd gone crazy,

but it was a fantastic sort of moment of enlightenment.

Digging in the Dirt.

I always loved to play in the dirt.

We had a river running through the farm

and I used to go down and play in the mud.

You used to feel the earth around your hand.

You'd feel more connected.

Love it. I was always looking, digging for buried treasure.

In a psychological way, I like to dig in the dirt as much as anybody,

and dig up what's underneath and behind things.

It's a great resource to have there.

When you feel stuff getting into your body because you can't release it,

if you haven't got the sort of environment

where you can get emotion out,

then I think it's a really important thing.

There's so many occasions where I'm feeling so much

but I can't compute it, can't word it.

I can't get it out of there. I can't get to grips with it.

But if I'm with a therapist, they can help me do that.

Sometimes, Digging in the Dirt,

when we perform it, gets pretty weird.

It definitely can get pretty weird.

Like, the guys seem to just really be kind of aggressive,

and they get into a weird mode.

It's like Mel and IU are kind of left on our own.

I was born on a farm,

so I think I grew up surrounded by fields, green, animals

and still feel very at home there.

Yeah, I used to run up Solsbury Hill.

It did feel like a magical place.

It's where I used to go to reflect as well as to work out.

I crashed my car at the top once.

Flying a kite up there.

Why do people buy my records?

I think when it works,

you can touch people with music

in a way that you can't with other arts.

The hearing I think goes directly through to the emotional system

without a lot of filtering.

It's almost like it sort of plugs directly into more of the heart

and less of the brain.

When I get it right, I can make people feel things,

and I think that's what they buy it for.

When you listen to Peter's music, it goes deep, deep, deep,

and deeper and deeper and deeper.

I discover a new thing every time.

When he plays his music, his shows, he speaks to us.

He's speaking to me through his music and his words.

And I have never experienced that feeling before.

His songs aren't just about love, like most other singers',

they're just about life and the world.

There can't be a favourite Peter Gabriel track.

It's your mood. Whatever your mood, there's a song for it.

There is only Peter Gabriel.

Am I celebrity?

The answer is "on weekends".

In other words, it's a great thing to be able to do

when you want to get a good seat in a restaurant,

or go to a premiere,

and, you know, there's a bit of that "look at me" in every performer.

But it's a miserable place to live all the time.

You do see one or two people in our world

that didn't have the vanity bypass operation.

So I think it's something

that I love to play from time to time and get stroked,

but, you know, you don't want to take it that seriously.

Well, he's got quite a few tricks.

My favourite PG move, and I'm not gonna try to do it...

You should get Mel to do it.

Like that. Look.

Probably standing still.

Probably like most people, I would have to say

that when he thrusts his hips in and out.

The pelvic thrust.

I have plenty of vanity.

I think anyone who's got on a stage

has done their full training of air guitar.

But I'm a lot more realistic now.

I remember in the make-up department, you start off,

and the make-up girl says, "You look lovely. "

The second stage is, "You've got a nice face. "

Third stage is, "You've got lovely eyes. "

The fourth stage is, "Where do you come from?"

I've always been excited in the possibilities

of how technology can really transform people's lives.

We see that as musicians time and time again.

Before, when I started off,

it was as if you were going into a laboratory.

You were put in a glass cage

and people in white coats did their thing.

Now, even though we've got our studios,

you can still do 90 percent of it on your laptop.

So it's a wonderfully different environment.

I think it's an enabling thing.

I get very excited with all these things

and how to use technology in different ways.

I'm a guy who's really perhaps over-attached to my computer.

I don't go anywhere without the laptop.

I would describe myself as an early adopter

and think that it's big and clever to use something before it really works.

I've got into trouble a lot like that.

I've made a lot of friends on the Internet.

They reach out to us from the audience.

Well, it's too important.

I think we all are in thrall of technology.

It would be so much better if people thought before they used technology

or made sure that technology was purely a tool,

a means to an end, rather than an end in itself.

I'm a huge believer in the telephone, the mobile phone,

and they're talking about these roll-out screens

that would be like a pencil that you unroll, connect to your phone,

and then you've got a decent-sized screen,

and through that, you've suddenly got computers for $100 or less,

that the developing world can transform themselves.

They had hole-in-the-wall experiments in India,

where people just left computer terminals in the wall

and the street kids would come up, no prior training or education,

and they'd just fiddle around

and I think within two hours,

almost every kid had found out how to open files and started playing.

So I think that's one example of technology transforming the world.

I think there's many other ways that it can do that.

We're on in five minutes then.

For the last time, the top goes on.

What, this is the end of the tour?

I'm definitely sad. I'm gonna miss everybody here.

But I'm gonna have to sing my heart out tonight.

In Come Talk to Me, I think there was a time

when I felt I'd sort of lost a means of communicating with Mel,

and that was the starting point for that song.

All families go through different parts of their relationship.

You start off with the parent being...

the all-powerful person.

And it often ends up with the kid being the all-powerful person

and the parent, you know, in the child's role.

And between those two points, you have many transformations.

Melanie.

Of course at the beginning, you know,

you don't have a problem reconciling wealth with any political viewpoint,

because you don't have any.

And now, you know, there's a lot of things around in my life.

I feel...

I've been through various stages of thinking about things,

but now I'm very comfortable with how things are.

I think I've got quite a lot in my life which is selfish,

and quite a lot which is unselfish and I'm happy with the balance.

I think the particular thing with the Biko story

was that I had some friends connected with Amnesty.

I'd been reading about his imprisonment.

It was one of those things that you thought

because there was a certain amount of news coverage,

that his captors would think twice before they did him any harm

because they knew people would watch and know about it,

but it didn't stop them.

I think they actually only meant to torture him.

It was pretty merciless,

but having left him after they'd pretty much finished him off,

he was schlepped around to another prison and left to die.

So that was very shocking for me.

It's over

It is over.

- Thanks for the ride. - Thanks for the ride.

I think there's a mixed feeling almost every tour,

particularly if you've sweated and had some adrenaline rush,

that if you're sort of satisfied on the one hand

that you've put a lot into it, physically if nothing other else,

and on the other, you're sad that it's stopping.

It's like that morning-after-the-party feeling.

You're sort of still somewhat bleary-eyed,

but there's an echo of what was there, but it's already fading.