Sir Bob Geldof on life, love, Live Aid and why he swears so much

It is difficult to separate Sir Bob Geldof from his image; the passionate, politically minded pop star who rants, slams his fists on desks and swears – a lot. Many column inches have been devoted to elaborating on this aspect of the philanthropist-musician.

But is his cussing and cursing just a habit, or does he use it as a cover, perhaps to mask his sensitive side? Ask him that, and he reveals    another aspect to his personality: his sheer contrariness. His answer? “No. It’s how I speak.”

That’s it. No further elaboration, no concessions to the press. His antagonism towards the media is well-known, but you can’t help feeling that it goes deeper than that. Like his admission that swearing is a part of the way he communicates, taking the opposite stance is perhaps his very being. Almost all his answers begin with a curt “no”, though his elaboration on the answer may end up agreeing with the inquisitor.

He cuts through the fluff to get to the point directly. Did he hurt you in the process? Too bad. Don’t take it personally. It’s this gruffness, his anti-establishment fervour, that made such a global impact to fight hunger in Africa in 1984.

After watching a report on the millions starving in Ethiopia, Africa, Geldof didn’t just dip into his pocket to salve his conscience, he set up Band Aid with the world’s most popular musicians.

The following year they organised the charity concert Live Aid, which raised an estimated final figure of £150 million (Dh840 million). He then organised the Live 8 concerts in 2005 to fight against global poverty, which were also hugely successful.

Sir Bob now serves as an adviser to the ONE Campaign, founded by fellow Irish musician Bono of the band U2, aimed at giving a voice to the poor in the fight against poverty.

Music versus politics

Music and politics appear to be intertwined for Geldof, but he disagrees. “They are not,” he retorts. “Music is my love. Politics is my job. I was able to use music to get to politics.”

He doesn’t agree that his music will always be compared with his social activism. “No,” he says emphatically, “I don’t think that it is.” His experiences in Africa and elsewhere have not stopped him playing music. “Music doesn’t seem pointless at all,” he says. “I’ve not seen it all. Besides, it [music] is in a different space.”

While he doesn’t think music and social activism sit together, he believes that the audience takes messages from popular songs seriously. “Songs have always reflected the time and situation,” he says. “Look at protest songs in the Sixties and punk in the Seventies.”

Geldof, 61, who was in Dubai recently for a concert at the Irish Village, once wrote a song that went ‘To live in love is all there is; life without love is meaningless’. He maintains that love is what life is all about. “It took me a long time to find it,” he says. “Now I have I’m sticking with it.”

But it hasn’t been a smooth path to love for Sir Bob. Paula Yates, the mother of his three daughters, Peaches, Fifi Trixibelle and Pixie, left him in 1995. The man she left him for, Michael Hutchence of the band INXS, ended his life in 1997 and she died of an accidental heroin overdose nearly three years later. It was then up to Bob to bring up their three girls and Yates’ daughter by Hutchence, Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily, now 17.

In an interview some years ago, he spoke of his state then: “I couldn’t see beauty, I couldn’t see desire – I had no desire.’’ But then he met French actress Jeanne Marine at a party in Paris 15 years ago. “She insisted upon loving me,” he said. “Such insistence ultimately gets reciprocated – it can’t not be.’’

Love and charity appear to be the two guidelines in Bob’s life and he sees the similarities. “Charity is just reaching out to someone. Isn’t that what life is about?” he asks.

But it’s music that is at the heart of the man. It’s the one thing that he loves to do, but Geldof insists it’s also the most complicated. “What I’m not allowed to do, because I do that other stuff, is sing my heart,’’ he says. Critics review his music in the context of his aid work, his business and his private life, rather than in the context of his music career that spans almost 38 years.

An early starter

Geldof discovered rock ’n’ roll when he was 11, listening to Radio Luxembourg at home in Dún Laoghaire, Ireland. His mother died when he was seven and his father, a travelling salesman, was away a lot. Music kept him company. Discovery of the blues and anti-apartheid campaigning followed soon after.

His slant towards social activism was evident in the songs he wrote for the Boomtown Rats, his first band where he was lead singer. Their hit I Don’t Like Mondays was based on a San Diego school shooting, while Banana Republic was inspired by the general state of Ireland at the time.

If his other life – charity, Live Aid, politics, business ventures – had not interfered, perhaps Geldof would have been a more prolific, more acclaimed musician. Does he regret that people look at his musical career as an afterthought? Would he have done things differently if he had the choice? There’s that word again – a definitive, “No”.

Though he’s still very active on the aid front, Bob doesn’t see another Live Aid happening in the future. “Yes, it was my idea and it grew from Band Aid,” he says. “But no, it won’t happen again.” Bob’s famous brevity continues while talking about his view of humanity. “We’ve messed up,” he says. “We will do it again.”

How does he marry his criticism of the system and accepting its rewards, like the knighthood? “I don’t criticise the system,” he says. The most valuable thing he learned is that, “Incremental change is a good result.”