From Frankie Goes to Hollywood to Grace Jones, ABC and Tatu, he gave pop some of its greatest, most forward-looking moments. He also sang for prog rockers Yes. The trailblazing knob-twiddler recalls his best – and worst – decisions
When I ask if I can use the toilet in Trevor Horn’s house, he shows me the way there himself. “Bob Hoskins’ old thunderbox,” he smiles as he opens the door. “He used to sit there and read his scripts, apparently.”
There’s another door next to it, which leads down to Horn’s studio. A house formerly owned by a Hollywood star, big enough to accommodate a huge recording studio: it’s the home of someone who’s done very well for himself, which of course, Horn has. His recently published autobiography, Adventures in Modern Recording, details a stellar career as a record producer, packed with wildly entertaining stories which usually involve Horn barricaded in a studio, smoking a vast amount of marijuana while dealing with the dizzying array of technical issues that come from pushing the latest recording gadgetry to its limit, then finally emerging with a hugely successful single. ABC’s The Look of Love. Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Relax. Grace Jones’s Slave to the Rhythm. Tatu’s All the Things She Said.
