http://www.telegraph.co.uk/et?ac=001599991758639&rtmo=3quKuSuM&atmo=kkkkwrlu&pg=/et/99/6/10/bmdef10.html ========================== Rock star? Not me, I'm a rock bloke ISSUE 1476 Electronic Telegraph Thursday 10 June 1999 Rock star? Not me, I'm a rock bloke He may have made a pile from Def Leppard's 40 million sales, but singer Joe Elliott never forgets his Sheffield roots. Neil McCormick meets him in Dublin FROM the moment the electronic gates swing open, you know that you are entering the domain of a genuine rock star. Set high in the hills south of Dublin, Joe Elliott's modern, oblong, two-storey home packs a full range of rock 'n' roll accessories into 7,000sq ft of floor space. There is a heated indoor swimming pool, fully equipped gym and a high-tech recording studio, where Elliott's band, Def Leppard, have recently completed work on their new album, Euphoria. The upstairs lounge is approximately the size of a tennis court, and is dominated by a grotesque, fibreglass statue of a dragon-like creature that was once part of a stage set. Two of the walls are made of glass, from which Elliott can look down over his paddock (where his girlfriend, Bobbie, keeps two horses), an enormous lawn with a putting green mown into it, and a quite spectacular view of Dublin bay. A third wall is entirely covered with Elliott's collection of more than 3,000 CDs. It goes without saying that there is a pool table. Throughout the house, there are a number of wide-screen televisions, serviced by two satellite dishes (so that Bobbie can watch her choice of programmes, while Elliott watches "the football"). Then there's Bobbie herself, of course. Elliott's long-standing American girlfriend is appropriately blonde and busty, with model good looks and a preference for body-hugging designer clothing. In fact, the only thing remotely out of place in this almost stereotypical rock-star environment is the rock star. Unshaven, unkempt, sloppily attired in old jeans and a tatty sweatshirt, the tall, burly Yorkshireman looks like he might have just stopped by to fix the plumbing. Elliott has no airs or graces. Speaking with a bluff Sheffield accent far removed from the mid-Atlantic stylings of his singing voice, he remains proud of his working-class ordinariness. He may have originally arrived in Ireland a decade ago to complete a tax year outside the UK, but, when describing the country's appeal, it becomes quickly evident why he did not opt for a more exotic locale: "They speak English here, drive on the same side of the road, you can get the BBC, fish and chips, News of the World and a great pint of Guinness. It's like England, but it's not." It was the friendliness of the locals that persuaded him to stay. He says no one treats him like a rock star, which suits him fine. "The one thing I really can't say I dig too much is the weather," he declares. "Occasionally you get a summer. We had one last year, I remember specifically. It was on a Wednesday. But the thing is, I don't really go out that much where the weather's a problem - 10 yards out the door into a car, two feet out of the car into a club or a movie or a restaurant or whatever. I spend a lot of time just watching TV upstairs. I'm a bit of a normal kind of boring guy when I'm not being a rock star." When he is being a rock star, however, he does like to make a bit of an effort. Having slobbed around his house all morning, Elliott disappears into his bedroom when the photographer arrives, emerging shaved, hair-brushed and wearing an op-art shirt. Playing the new Def Leppard album at foundation-shattering volume in his recording studio, he begins pulling a succession of classic rock poses. Elliott clearly sees this as part of his job. He partly ascribes the failure of contemporary British groups to conquer the lucrative American market to a certain lack of showmanship. "Very few artists are either capable or willing to do a Mick Jagger or a David Bowie or even a Gary Glitter, where they actually project themselves further than the hood of their parkas. I've always liked the idea of wearing a tiger-skin coat, a pair of pointy shoes and a pair of shades and going out there and strutting it. If you wanna attract somebody's attention, it's no use standing around like you're just waiting for a bus." Whatever it is that Elliott does, it seems to have worked. Def Leppard are, in fact, the biggest-selling rock group to emerge from Britain in the last two decades. Their six albums have sold in excess of 45 million copies worldwide. Def Leppard's immaculately produced, ground-breaking amalgamation of glam, pop and hard rock has given them number one singles on both sides of the Atlantic. While other groups may boast of silver, gold and platinum discs, Def Leppard are one of only eight British acts (the others being The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, the Bee Gees, Eric Clapton, Elton John and George Michael) to have been awarded a diamond disc, commemorating American sales in excess of 10 million for a single album (1988's Hysteria). "It's not a disc actually," Elliott reports, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "It's like an obelisk made out of perspex with this fake diamond stuck on top with a little bit of superglue. I'm telling you, if it had been a real diamond it'd have been straight down the nearest pawnbrokers." Elliott talks about money in a manner that suggests he still knows the value of a pound. He views his home studio, for example, as an economy rather than an extravagance, allowing the group to record at leisure without notching up excessive costs. "Even a band of our stature are not gonna throw money away," he insists. "I find it ridiculous people saying, 'I'm a millionaire now, let's light a cigar with a £50 note'. My mum and dad did not bring me up that way." He then repeats his mantra: "I'm a lot more down to earth and normal than that." Elliott's only indulgence, he claims, is his vast music collection. "I don't spend money on clothes very often, as you can probably tell, but I've got lots of CDs. I walk into a record shop and go wow! Music is like an addiction to me." Elliott is a sort of rock bloke, viewing himself as a working man lucky enough to have a job he actually likes. One that pays quite well, too, although the hours can (apparently) be long. Euphoria is released by Mercury next week, and after a year-long stint in the studio (working, he insists, noon till midnight, six days a week) Elliott and his colleagues are embarking on a hectic promotional and live schedule. "It makes you laugh when you see some guy from Sheffield that you knew 10 years ago and he says, 'Oh, it's all right for you, with an easy life'," Elliott snorts. "These guys go home at five o'clock and don't have to do anything till seven o'clock the next morning. We just never stop. It really is a lot of hard work, but you don't mind doing it because you're basically working for yourself, not for some cloth-eared pillock in a factory, which is what I used to do. . . and what I'd still be doing, if it wasn't for rock 'n' roll." © Copyright of Telegraph Group Limited 1999. Terms & Conditions of reading. Commercial information.