The following interview with Darius was published in the Daily Mail's 'Weekend' magazine on 20th July 2002.
You can click on the photo to read the article or read it in text below:
Darius has a surprisingly rich, almost gravely speaking voice, with some residue of a Scottish burr, strangely different from his singing voice, which, like all other young male crooners at the moment echoing out of every clothes shop in the country, seems rather bland and colourless. In the studio where we meet, speakers all around us are playing his first-ever single, Colourblind, which will be released on July 29.
Recalling that Darius is the young man who declared, when he was kicked off Popstars, that he would one day be ‘bigger than Hear’Say’, there is an awful lot riding on this slender tune. But Darius has little doubt that it will be a success. ‘Unstoppable’ is a word often used about him. He flops down on the floor at my feet, offering me the only chair and looks a little tired. He has been working relentlessly and, until the record comes out, will be appearing on every possible TV and radio show, including Top Of The Pops, GMTV, MTV, RI:SE, Saturday morning children’s TV and every regional show that will have him.
‘July will be Darius month,’ his agent tells me. Hearing this, the wonder boy smiles up at me, looking like a contented puppy.
‘Colourblind was not written for anyone special,’ he says, ‘its about the colour of the emotions,’ What this means exactly he doesn’t say, but what I think he means is that this is no ordinary song, but rather a work of art, to be considered more like a serious novel than a mere pop song. It is perhaps important to remember that Darius has an English degree from Edinburgh University and hopes to go back to do an honours degree as soon as he can. After all, there is nothing ‘general’ or run-of-the-mill about Darius. ‘I plan to write my dissertation on Hamlet or King Lear,’ he says, ‘a tragic hero who achieves a lot, only to have everything taken away.’ Not that he plans to follow suit. ‘I prefer the idea of building things up slowly and achieving everything you want,’ he says. ‘I don’t want any grief myself.'
Stage one in his plan for immortality is his first album, part of a five-album deal with Mercury Records. He did once boast that he’d have a triple-platinum album by the time he’s 35, and this work is about turning that bit of bombast into reality. ‘I love writing music,’ he says, ‘all the songs on the album will be mine.’
Darius sees himself not as a pop star, but as a singer-songwriter. He admires folksy, poetic types such as David Gray, Dido and Craig David – ‘I believe in their lyrics,’ he says earnestly. As a child he listened to Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Simon and Garfunkel. We are discussing poetry here – not girls’ changing room pap.
‘I don’t admit that appearing on Popstars or Pop Idol has had anything to do with my success,’ he says smoothly, although with his oiled, tufted hair, bracelets and rings, he looks like a beefier version of Gareth Gates. ‘When I was at the Popstars audition, and Nigel Lythgoe (the judge, known popularly as ‘Nasty Nigel’) said I wasn’t right for Hear’Say, I said, “Thank you, but I will succeed.” I said that because I didn’t want to be emotionally manipulated like the other contestants on the show, who were often reduced to tears.
‘I was never happy with the idea of being on Popstars. At that time I wanted fame, but it was more important for me to make music and express myself, than to be a commercial entity. Hear’Say are struggling now. Pop music is fickle, but I am into my own music. I want to create my own work, not do covers.’
He now seems to have only a distant, hazy recollection of Pop Idol, the hit show which really brought him to national attention. ‘It was scary,’ he admits, ‘but I look back on it and laugh. I was a bit over-enthusiastic on the screen. I cringe when I see recordings of it. I was tough enough to deal with Simon, though. He slammed me and I felt angry.’
There was the famous incident where judge Simon Cowell said Darius had given the worst performance of the evening and Darius retorted politely but firmly: ‘Simon, I think with your waistband being so high, you might want to undo it one notch because it might be restricting the blood flow to your head.’
‘I thought my mum would kill me for that,’ he says now. ‘There’s no excuse for bad manners, but afterwards, Simon shook me by the hand and said it was one of the best putdowns he’d ever had.’
All that is long ago and Darius attributes his chance to make records entirely to Steve Lillywhite at Mercury Records, who was once married to the late Kirsty MacColl and who has produced hit bands such as Simple Minds and U2, and to producer Pete Glennister, who once worked with Terence Trent D’Arby, a promising star who has since disappeared.
‘Lillywhite knew nothing about Pop Idol,’ Darius says emphatically. ‘He only heard my demo tape, and then he called Pete. I’ve deliberately held my new single back because I didn’t want to do anything on the back of the TV programme, which was nothing more than a six-month advert.’ He is rather dismissive as he was ‘advertised’ as much as Will and Gareth. ‘What I mean,’ he says, ‘is that the momentum of the show was so big, that people would have bought the record because of Pop Idol – not because of me.’ Gareth and Will did not let this fact bother them, but Darius is different – he wants people to hear his work with pure ears, unsullied by the influence of TV pop shows.
There were rumours that, in reality, Simon Cowell, a record company boss, who was often particularly harsh on young Darius, had not offered him a record contract anyway. ‘Simon did offer me a record deal, but I turned it down,’ Darius insists. ‘He was very gentlemanly about it and took it well, but I want a company that will champion me as their main interest. Simon and I get on well, better than many of the acts he has signed, because I’m not afraid of him. I was never going to be intimidated by him. I earned his respect over months, and I respect him as a business man, but he’s successful because he’s harsh, and I don’t agree with the way he treats people. Of course, it works in terms of the sales he gets.’
He says he keeps in touch with a few of his compatriots on Pop Idol. He met Zoe Birkett again recently. ‘I think she has a record deal, but I don’t know any of the details,’ he says, obviously not terribly interested.
Darius’s toughness and single-minded resolve to keep going against all the nasty Nigels and sarcastic Simons of this world are fundamental to his character and go back a long way. ‘As a kid I was very ambitious,’ he admits, and one shudders to think what he must have been like. He was born into a highly individualistic Scottish family living in Bearsden, a prosperous Glasgow suburb. His father, Booth, is Iranian and was brought up in a palace in Iran. Booth’s grandmother was a princess, his father an ambassador, who sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to the Shah of Iran when he was seven. But his family lost everything in 1979, when the Shah was overthrown. Booth was already living in Scotland by then, training to be a doctor. When he qualified, he invented the first heart, lung and kidney machine for babies, but hated seeing infants die so he switched to gastroenterology.
Darius’s Scottish mother, Avril Campbell, 49, is a GP. Although Booth was brought up a Muslim, he is relaxed about it and Avril never converted. The boys were brought up in the Church of Scotland. ‘I am a Christian,’ says Darius. ‘I admire Islam’s non-materialistic side, but I hate it when people use Islam as an excuse for terrorism.’
The couple called two of their sons, Darius and Cyrus, seven, after ancient Persian kings, but Darius’s brother Aria, 18, a medical student who plays piano and violin, is named for his parents’ love of grand opera. They were a middle-class, go-ahead couple, strict, hardworking and determined to do the best for their boys. ‘The family had a Mediterranean feel,’ says Darius. ‘We ate outdoors, everyone helped, we worked as a team.’
Darius was sent to private Scottish schools, where there were high expectations of pupils. It was at the exclusive Glasgow Academy that he first showed his talent for doing his best – and irritating people. ‘I had a tough time at school,’ he says. ‘It was a nightmare. I was into music and drama, I wasn’t academic or good at sport, so I didn’t really fit in. I had a few friends, but we were outsiders.’ His former teacher, Malcolm McNaught, has confirmed that though Darius was very bright he didn’t find it easy to relate to other people. ‘It was partly because he was talented, but mainly because of his arrogance.’ McNaught said. ‘I spoke to him many times about his attitude.’
‘The main problem was that the other boys were jealous about the girls I was going out with,’ says Darius candidly. ‘I looked at relationships maturely, and usually went out with older girls. I was over 6ft tall at 16, and I could get away with it. Most of the Scottish boys couldn’t do that sort of thing.’
Although not sporty, he took up rugby and through sheer determination, ended up in the first team. He also shaved off his long hair and joined the school’s Officer Training Corps, where he was promoted to lance corporal. Having a tough time at school paid off later. ‘School was a struggle,’ he says, ‘but it gave me the chance to understand the hurdles that would be put in my way. I suppose that by the time I met Simon Cowell, I was ready for him.’
After his rejection on Popstars, he went back to his studies. Then came Pop Idol. After getting into the final three, he has made the giant leap to his own recording contract and it seems that all his struggles are behind him. ‘I am living a dream now,’ he says.
To outsiders, not driven by the same desire for fame, his dream seems like very hard work and one which doesn’t leave him any time for romance. ‘I’m single now and I’ve got no time to invest in a relationship,’ he says, which will disappoint a legion of admiring females. ‘I’m always working and I’m never at home. It’s sad, but I’ve got to get my album written. Then we’ll see.’
Perhaps in the future Darius will make some woman very happy – but only after he’s made himself fulfilled and happy first.