The new album's first single, the sublime "(Reach Up for the) Sunrise," sounds like a cheery update of the band's 1985 Bond-theme hit "A View to a Kill," and it was "Sunrise" that was playing when the band finally made its entrance. As they glided down an escalator, getting closer and closer to the mayhem, the musicians looked like well-worn wax-museum versions of their former selves. That is, until serious faces and rigid poses -- always in album-cover mode, these guys -- finally gave way to tiny waves and big smiles.
And that's when the Durannies really started screaming -- screaming for as long and loud as it took to turn back time.
"We're not just fluff. We're fluff and we're depth," says Simon LeBon, center, with Nick Rhodes, left, John Taylor, Roger Taylor, Andy Taylor.
(Helayne Seidman For The Washington Post)
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Sitting in a posh artists' lounge some 50 floors up in the Sony Building the next day -- the label just signed them to a four-album deal -- the men of Duran Duran, who have 12 children between them, are giving parenting tips.
"Get a nanny," says Andy Taylor. "If you can reduce the sleep stress, that's the killer."
"Give 'em something to rebel against," says LeBon. "Sometimes, no matter how nice you might be, you're going to be the one they want to rebel against. You have to be the bad guy."
"It's important to dance with your daughter to Kool & the Gang records," says John Taylor.
"Send daughters to all-girls schools and boys to mixed schools," says Rhodes with a definitive nod.
It's a tad strange hearing the most notorious party stars and supermodel magnets of the 1980s spout heartfelt wisdom about child-rearing. But the pop stars are comfortable with their maturity these days -- empowered by it, even -- and they know that their fans are cool with it, too.
"Our audience seems to be much more passionate than most people's fans," says Rhodes, immaculately pressed in a black suit with white shirt and white tie. "I think they relate to us individually, as well as to our music. . . . There's something about the fragility that we had."
"It's just the chemistry between the five of us," says John Taylor, leaning back in his chair and exuding a natural classic vibe. "When we get together, we make music, we have a good time, and for the most part it works. We've all done this in different configurations, but this" -- he motions to his four reunited mates -- "is what brings the house down. This is what makes 'em just can't contain themselves."
The musicians insist they've remained cordial for the past 20-plus years -- LeBon and Rhodes have essentially kept the band alive since the divorce, albeit with spotty success. But it wasn't until 2001 that all the members decided that it was time to give the original lineup another try.
"We all came back at the same time," says the quiet Roger Taylor, who was the first to leave the band in '85 so he could cool his frazzled nerves and spend time with his family. "I was ready for this. No one had to drag me back screaming."
In fabulous Duran Duran style, they headed to St. Tropez in southern France to write, jam and find out if they could still create the "brand," as John Taylor calls the band's style. Accommodations weren't a problem: There was a friend with a yacht, another friend with a mansion. "I had a golden blow dryer in my room," says John Taylor.
"We could have done the album in a hut in Siberia. But we didn't want to suffer for our art," says LeBon. "I mean, we are Duran Duran."
