Yeah, okay, we’re going to be guilty of a little unabashed namedropping here. But look, we got Nick Rhodes to write the foreword to Mad World. Not Howard Jones’ white-faced mime, Jed; not the dwarf from “The Safety Dance” video; not Baltimora. (That’s right, we buy into the Baltimora Lives! conspiracy theory). Nick Rhodes! And he’s every bit as erudite and opinionated as you would expect and hope. In his intro, the Duran Duran mastermind paints a vivid picture of bleak Seventies Britain, illuminating how glam bled into punk which mated with Krautrock and disco to produce a hybrid that swallowed up the world.
But that’s not all! We also have an afterword penned by Moby. We finagled it out of him while flailing around in the pool of his Xanadu-like compound high in the hills of Los Angeles. (Sounds glamorous? It was a little more like Caddyshack. That’s why we haven’t been invited back since.) His knowledge of the era runs deep. Cowboys International deep. Theatre Of Hate deep. Not only does he harbor a true and abiding love for new wave, he’s also able to articulate what it meant to him during his brutal adolescence in the suburban hell of 1980s Connecticut.
We are proud and privileged to have both these fine artists christen and close “Mad World.” They add a little class. (But we soon take care of that.)