Bob Geldof Bids Adieu to 'Captain Grumpy,' Breaks Out New Album at SXSW

These days, Bob Geldof is better known as a political rabble-rouser, founder of Live Aid
and the father of celebutante Peaches Geldof than he is as the one-time frontman of the Boomtown Rats. But that hasn't curbed his desire to write songs.

The droll, notably profane singer is set to kick off the American release of his first solo album in nearly a decade, 'How to Compose Popular Songs That Will Sell,' by delivering the keynote speech at SXSW tomorrow (March 17). Spinner spoke to Geldof about losing his 'Captain Grumpy' persona, turning gray and the story behind 'The Great Song of Indifference.'

I don't imagine you spent the entire nine years since your last album working on this one, but I'm wondering if it feels like you did.

[Laughs] No, it doesn't. The impulse to write songs -- when it does come -- it won't be denied. It comes in this great cathartic rush. And then there's this great emptiness, and you begin assembling the bits and pieces together to construct songs. Usually there's quite a lot, in this case, 32 or 33 [songs] -- obviously all incredible works of genius. It was difficult to whittle them down to 10.

Listen to 'How to Compose Popular Songs That Will Sell' for Free

So...triple album?

[Laughs] Yeah, I know the world is waiting for one of those. The thing is, it's nice to be treated as a musician. It's a change for me. The reality of my life is that I do lots of other stuff. My life is full of business s---, political stuff.

It's not as though I wake up and go to studios. I wander around my house with a phone in my ear and a guitar in my hand. I have every opportunity to talk about empirical things outside of music; political stuff, I can talk directly to politicians; I can write about it; I can be on TV or go on radio. Back in the early days of the Rats, those are songs I'd write -- empirical tunes, observations.

That's a function of being a young guy or girl in rock 'n' roll. You're bursting with things to say about where you are -- your society, a future you're trying to shape. You're pissed off with stuff, and that all comes out. Later, as a function of age, music seems uniquely about dealing with the internal world. That might sound boring, but there's a universality to a lot of those songs.

Probably my favorite song of yours is 'The Great Song of Indifference.' Do you heed your own advice? Do you throw the ideas away, and start from something hopefully pure?

Indifference is a weird thing. I made [my first solo album] 'Deep in the Heart of Nowhere' after the Rats, and the reality was, the Rats could've written and played half that album. I couldn't find a way of not being in the Boomtown Rats. I'd always read about great artists doing things spontaneously. Now, I'm not a great artist, but I thought I'd give it a go. I couldn't afford to have open-ended studio time, so I gave myself 10 days. And if I wasn't a great artist after 10 days, I could go f--- myself.

One song I was noodling with sounded like this corny Irish thing. It turns out to be my most covered song ever, in 18 languages. They play it in a big Australian-rules football club, it's their song. It is a weird one, but it was a lesson. I was so used to being in a rock 'n' roll band, where life was determined by your chart position. If it went in the charts, great, but it wouldn't be like back in the Rats, scrambling, "Did it sell better than the Clash? Or Blondie?"

You're right to identify 'Indifference' as being the cusp moment when I thought, "There's a different way of doing this; you can sound completely different to what you have before."

Watch Bob Geldof Perform 'The Great Song of Indifference'
Whose idea was it to put the George Harrison slide guitar sound on 'Here's to You'?

That was me. I could have put chimes on it, and you wouldn't have thought "George Harrison." It's the next single in the UK. One critic asked, "Bob Geldof, in love with life? What the f--- is going on in the world?" [Laughs] I'm supposed to be Captain Grumpy, shouting at politicians. I've turned into a f---in' hippie, so I should sound like George Harrison?

Me and my mates were all in Turkey. We were out having a few drinks, and the kids and the missuses were there. We were on a boat, it was 3AM, and I was trying to fall asleep. And I thought, the missus, the kids, great mates -- it really doesn't get better. So I just wrote "Here's to you and all my friends." And it does sort of exemplify this record. I'm all right at the moment.

What did Thin Lizzy mean to the Boomtown Rats coming up?

Oh, huge. Philip [Lynott] used to come down and check us out. He and his managers got us straight into the head of A&R at Phonogram. We were offered deals with Stiff and John Peel, but we went with Nigel [Grainge].

I played in a band with Philip, the Greedy Bastards, with two of the Sex Pistols, two Rats and two from Lizzy. I wrote a couple of songs with him that I don't think ever saw the light of day. He's one of those guys, when you think about him, you palpably miss him. He was totally underrated. Without Philip you don't get Guns N' Roses, a whole line of rock 'n' roll. If he'd just held on, they would have been been a massive band.

Are you the kind of guy who's been waiting all your life for your hair to go gray?

What a ridiculous question! [laughs] I have no option. I won't do a Paul McCartney ... I do think it lends me a certain senatorial gravitas. No, you just get f---in' older, and you may as well observe yourself. I remember my dad at 95 going, "It's so f---ing weird I'm 95." Well, it's weird I'm 59. But then it's weird when you're 23, too.