Wonder working hard

Press, 3 October 1985, Page 24

Wonder working hard

By

BETTY LOWENTHAL

Stevie Wonder’s longawaited album “In Square Circle,” was released in Britain on September 16. He was working on it last year when he passed through London and the first British ears to hear it were on the head of a startled boy with a ghetto blaster in the Tottenham Court Road.

Wonder, accompanied but unprotected, stopped the boy in his tracks, slipped a cassette into his machine and gave him an exclusive preview. In London, when not working in a secretly guarded studio, he moves unfussily around, unflanked by bodyguards or publicity people. If you’re young, unemployed, and know where the action is, you are more likely to rub shoulders with him than any music mogul or paparazzi. He owns no sleek cars, no private plane. When he flies, it is economy class with his band; when on tour, he accompanies them in the bus.

I caught up with him in Amsterdam in an airy, sunlit church where he was rehearsing on the organ. He was dressed in a brilliant white tracksuit, his hair tightly braided into a small knot at the nape of his neck. Clutching a cold can of ginger ale he talked animatedly, frequently breaking off into laughter. He moved his hands slowly across my closed eyes and showed me what he called “the constantly moving air” that helps him to decipher the world around him.

“It’s what we call facial radar, a sense of sonar that all blind people have. If you were dependent upon those extra senses you would understand. It’s just a mat-

ter of working with what you have. “My first memory of sound was when I was about two. I remember discovering different sounds and colours of sounds from the radio.”

His Uncle Steve gave the blind boy his first harmonica and his piano came as a parting gift from moving neighbours. When a member of The Miracles heard the boy jamming with an unusual harmonica style, he arranged for him to meet Berry Gordy, the boss of Tamla Motown Records. He was swiftly hired. “I went to Motown every day after school. It was like a second home where everyone over the age of 12 became my parents.” While on tour, accompanied always by a private tutor, it became clear that one of his songs, “Fingertips,” was having a large impact on the audiences. It was recorded, released and went to No. 1 selling more than one million copies. By the age of 21 he had sold almost 30M records. Now distanced from Motown and Gordy, he is flanked by a close-knit family team which dispenses with the need for a manager. His brothers have key positions in the Wonder organisation. Milton, a former journalist, is merchandising manager, Calvin is his personal assistant, leading him onto the stage and from instrument to instrument. He now works obsessively, up to 20 hours a day, taking everywhere with him a portable keyboard synthesiser. Often he works until the early hours — what his musicians and engineers refer to as “the

night shift.” Calvin says “we don’t mind being called up at four in the morning to go to work. In fact it’s a prerequisite to working for him. Your eight hours sleep can come at any time. His energy is contagious.” This hectic work schedule results in hundreds of melodies, most of which never reach an album. He is also active with a number of favourite causes. He gives his time to antinuclear and anti-racist campaigns. Most memorably, he led the campaign to have Martin Luther King’s birthday made a national holiday in the United States. He had set a personal deadline of

1984 to achieve that and his involvement ensured that the King Bill went through Congress. When not touring, his time is spent between his home in New Jersey and another in Los Angeles, where he lives with his common law wife, Yolanda Simmonds, the mother of their children, Aisha and Keito. She was a former secretary whom he had first met on the telephone. “I liked her voice.” It had a special quality and the relationship sort of picked up from there. Copyright — London “Observer” Service.