Pet Shop Boys Try to Keep a Low Profile

Lead singer Neil Tennant and keyboardist Chris Lowe of the Pet Shop Boys are two of the most unlikely looking stars in pop music. There’s not an ounce of glamour between them. They look more like scholars than dance-music stars.

These Englishmen don’t go in for flashy attire either. The ultra-casual outfits they wore to lunch at a restaurant in their swank West Hollywood hotel could best be described as grubby chic.

“If you look like stars, you attract attention,” Lowe explained. “We don’t want to attract attention.”

But they’ve attracted the attention of the pop music world with their string of dance-music hits, beginning with haunting “West End Girls” two years ago, from their million-selling album, “Please” on EMI-Manhattan Records. Their latest album, “Actually,” features two hit singles--”It’s a Sin” and “What Have I Done to Deserve This?,” a duet between Tennant and pop veteran Dusty Springfield.

But it’s the remake of “Always on My Mind,” a 1982 hit for country singer Willie Nelson, that has everyone talking about the Pet Shop Boys. One of the most intriguing singles of the year, it reached the pop Top Five. Even those who don’t like it acknowledge how cannily they transformed this countryish ballad into an atmospheric, punchy dance tune.

Recorded last July for a British TV tribute to Elvis Presley, it was never intended to be a single.

“We decided in October to put it out as a single in England for Christmas,” Lowe explained. “The single was such a hit in England that Americans caught on to it. So the record company had to release it over here.”

Neither Tennant nor Lowe were familiar with the Nelson version. They only knew of Presley’s single, which was a hit in England in the early ‘70s.

Assigned to do a version of any Presley song for the TV show, they selected this one. “It’s from his schmaltzy, Las-Vegas period,” Lowe said. “I like it when he sings that kind of stuff--like ‘My Way.’ I’ve never really liked his ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll.

“Our point wasn’t to copy the arrangement on the Elvis record,” he continued. “We wanted to do something completely different. One reason we chose this song is because the chord sequence in the verse is ideal for a high-energy dance record. Ultimately, the record is us--not Elvis.”

Tennant and Lowe, who are the only members of the Pet Shop Boys, complement each other nicely.

A former architecture student, Lowe, 28, was very low-key, tossing in a comment here and there. Usually, he deferred to sharp, spirited, chatty Tennant, 33, an ex-music journalist who talks faster than an Uzi spits out bullets.

Though certainly not consensus favorites among critics, they enjoy some critical support--even from pop purists who rip dance music at every opportunity. They’ve even been praised as the Lennon and McCartney of disco.

Tennant doesn’t like the Pet Shop Boys lumped in with the legions of dance-music artists. ‘We are not Samantha Fox,” he said emphatically.

Unlike most dance-music artists, though, they croon about more than the joys and pains of romance.

On the song “Shopping,” they probe political issues. The gloomy, metaphorical “King’s Cross” is social commentary. Tennant’s drone-like, echo-enhanced, ethereal vocals--hovering over thunderclap rhythms--are the Pet Shop Boys’ trademark.

They have one foot in early ‘80s New Wave and the other on the dance floor. Other British groups have tried to marry New-Wavish rock with disco, but only the Pet Shop Boys have done it consistently well.

With their string of hits, you’d expect them to be touring regularly, but they haven’t done a live show since 1985. A tour was planned, but it was canceled for financial reasons. “The record company wouldn’t pay a penny toward the tour,” Tennant explained. “It’s against their policy. We would have lost hundreds of thousands of dollars. We simply couldn’t afford that kind of loss.”

It turns out, though, that the duo is happy staying off the road. “You’re committed to nine months traveling around the world,” Lowe pointed out. “It drains you of your energy and enthusiasm. It wouldn’t be any fun. It just disrupts your life.”

Tennant added: “You play live if you can enhance the recorded music somehow. I’m not sure we can do that. We’re not great dancers. Who would pay to see us dance? We’d only be touring because it’s the thing to do. That’s not a sound reason.”

Tennant was into New-Wave rock rather than dance music when he first met Lowe in a London music store in 1981. But Tennant caught dance fever from Lowe, who thrived on disco.

New Wave influences that still shimmer though the Pet Shop Boys’ music can be traced back to Tennant’s musical roots. But the duo’s sound is still based more on frantic Euro-disco and keyboardist Lowe’s love of ominous chords.

Lowe inspired Tennant, who wrote songs as a hobby, to compose dance music. They chose the group name in honor of some friends who worked in a pet shop. The persistent rumor that the name stems from a kinky New York street-slang term has been denied by Tennant.

A writer for the British music magazine Smash Hits during the group’s formative years, Tennant used his connections to hook up with American disco producer Bobby Orlando, who produced the first version of “West End Girls.” Though the single had minor international success in 1984, a legal battle with Orlando stalled the duo’s career for a year. But after signing with EMI-Manhattan, a revamped version of “West End Girls” launched their career.

Though originally indifferent to dance music, Tennant is now one of its staunchest and most eloquent supporters. “It has a life and energy all its own,” he said. “You can do anything in that dance-music context. It’s not limited, like people think it is. The music can be happy or sad or intelligent or silly or whatever we want it to be.”

One way to rile the Pet Shop Boys is to mention the accusations that their new movie, the bleak, surrealistic “It Couldn’t Happen Here,” is simply an elaborate, expensive full-length promotional video.

The film is about their bizarre encounters on a journey across England to an engagement at an eerie nightclub. Their songs are played throughout, and Tennant does do lip-synchs, just like in standard music videos.

Exasperated by these accusations, Tennant countered: “It’s like one of those Ken Russell films. The music is just a starting point for all the characters and scenarios. Look at it as a weird adventure story with lots of music. It’s like (the Beatles’) ‘A Magical Mystery Tour.’ ”

According to Tennant, the group’s record company, EMI, helped finance the $1.8-million movie. However, he added, “They’re not very interested in it. They see the movie as a potential disaster. They think it’ll be bad for us. They see it as too weird for America.”

Apparently the movie isn’t the only source of friction between the Pet Shop Boys and their record company. While many artists have a love-hate relationship with their record company, Tennant says his relationship to EMI is more a matter of “hate-hate.”

Like all artists when their albums aren’t doing great business, the Pet Shops Boys are blaming the label, charging ineffective marketing and promotion. Not that “Actually,” the group’s second album, is a stiff. So far it’s sold more than 750,000 units in this country.

“But it’s sold that many in Germany and more than that in England,” Tennant griped. “It should be doing better in America.”

Tennant had a point. You’d expect an album released eight months ago by an established group, featuring two Top 10 singles, to have sold more than a million by now.

(EMI executives declined to comment on these charges.)

In EMI’s defense, marketing albums by such a low-profile group isn’t easy, no matter how many Top 10 singles they have.

“We have no identity in this country,” Lowe admitted.

Not that they’re high-profile artists in other countries either. “In England, an artist can do well without a high profile,” Tennant explained. “We’re hardly ever in the newspapers, but people are aware of us.”

They conceded, however, that the United States is different. “This country is so big and there are so many artists vying for audience attention,” Tennant said. “You need a lot of hype and you have to make a lot of noise.”

An easy way to generate an image is by traveling the scandal route. But that’s a detour they’re not willing to take. As Tennant said smugly, “We don’t choose to be a public soap opera. We don’t want to be like Madonna and all those others you’re always reading about. We try to do it all on the strength of our records.”

Quite simply, Lowe said, they don’t really want a high profile--even if it means selling fewer records:

“We chose to have a low profile everywhere. We’d rather not have the world nosing into our business. We don’t want people trying to figure out who we are. Sometimes we’re not even sure ourselves.”