ROBERT PALMER : Music & Style

He replaced Robert Palmer to play Live Aid... but it was never built to last.

Hello: July 1985

I'd been in a band called Chequered Past with Steve Jones. The year before we'd opened for Duran Duran, which was to be the entrance to a mad world of private jets and topless girls.

I was with my friend Don Johnson in Marshall, Texas, when the magic call came from the promoter Wayne Forte, who said, "There's a band who need a singer for a tour, come to New York and meet them, but I can't tell you who they are." Suddenly I'm in this Jason Bourne fantasy. I fly first class and go to this office in Manhattan.

John Taylor (bass) and Tony Thompson (drums) are there, nervous and sweating, with Wayne, and I say, "oh my God!" Of course, I knew The Power Station. The feeling was that for Robert (Palmer, Power Station vocalist), doing his act in front of 20,000 screaming girls would be demeaning, somehow.

They ask me if I'm interested in replacing him and I say, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Of course I said yes. So they say, go to London on Concorde. They give me a version of the album with Robert's voice taken off and I listen to it the whole way, assuming his personality. I check into the Dorchester and go to this studio to meet Andy Taylor (guitarist), who's driving down from Manchester.

After eight hours he arrives, this charismatic tiny guy in shades, in clouds of marijuana smoke with these massive minders. I sang a verse and a chorus, and he said, "Let's go shopping." We went to Vivienne Westwood. Then it's back on Concorde, sleep for a few hours, and as I was getting ready to go to rehearsals, my manager rang and said, "You're out, Robert Palmer's agreed to do it." Talk about bummed.

Don had come to New York, and when we went to dinner, John Taylor was in the restaurant at another table. Don spoke to him. And at 7am the next day, I get a call, "Michael, you're back in." We had 10 days rehearsing 30 songs and the first show was Live Aid. Backstage, the hierarchy of rock and roll was interesting to see - Madonna writing lyrics on her hand, Dylan in a trailer and Bono waiting for him to come out, (me) sitting on a couch with Dylan, Mick and Woody... it was rock'n'roll, up the ass!

Goodbye: August 1985

Replacing a guy like Palmer, I had to regard any criticism as a useless notion, otherwise I was doomed. And Live Aid - nothing could take away the potency of the moment, and after that, the kids knew me. We went on tour and then it was gone, but I knew it would be. It was an odd mix - Chic meets the Sex Pistols wasn't really my métier, I like bluesy rock'n'roll - plus, I was sober. I'd get up early and go running. They were 22-year-old multimillionaire rock'n'rollers. Our ways after the shows were in different directions, shall we say.

The last gig was, I think, the Greek in Los Angeles (in fact, the Brendan Byrne Arena, East Rutherford, NJ, August 28). A fantastic show, Jonesy was there, Miss Pamela (celebrated groupie and DesBarres' ex-wife) and my kid were there, my intimate friends... I remember jumping into the audience. And Prince came! Which was fantastic. He wanted to talk about a performance I gave on (medical TV drama) St. Elsewhere.

Afterwards, we were all exhausted and disappeared with our various entourages. But I learned a lot from it, and John's still in my life. Then, after it ended, I auditioned for (TV show) MacGyver (as un-murderable assassin Murdoc), wearing a black leather outfit. I got the job in the parking lot; I didn't have time to mourn The Power Station.

As told to Ian Harrison (Q magazine - 2014)