Matt Goss looks back: ‘I’d like another Bros experience. Something massive, Bros on steroids. Bigger, the biggest’

Born in London in 1968, Matt Goss was a member of Bros, the 80s pop group formed with his twin brother, Luke, and friend Craig Logan. The trio had hits including When Will I Be Famous? and I Owe You Nothing, before splitting in 1992. Matt went on to have a solo career, and recently concluded one of the longest residencies by a British artist in Vegas history. Bros reunited in 2017, coinciding with the Bafta-winning documentary Bros: After the Screaming Stops, which followed the fraught relationship between the twins, who are currently estranged. Matt will take his solo show on tour throughout March and April.

This was taken in our biker jacket phase. I’m wearing one by Rebel Rockers of London and I’m happy I still fit into it; after turning 50 I could have been Fat Goss rather than Matt Goss. Was I happy about how I looked? I have always been confident about what’s inside my heart, less so my appearance, so I don’t think I felt great here. While I participated in certain aesthetic travesties over the years, the classic Bros look – the denim mixed with the jacket, the T-shirt and Dr Martens – is something that still feels relevant. As for the hair – I used Dax. Super greasy and thick. It was not kind on the scalp, but it looked fucking good.

I’d describe myself back then as innocent and hopeful, but I can see in my eyes that I am wrestling with pain and smiling through it. My sister had been killed by a drunk driver the year before, and I was having to keep it together to do promo for Bros. I didn’t know where to put the grief, but somehow I managed it.

As much as I lived the lifestyle of a rock star, I was afraid to call myself one. I was born and raised a south-east Londoner and my mum would have clipped me around the ear if I got too big for my boots – but “Bros mania” was real, and it was absolutely global. In every country that we went to we experienced mayhem, and we had the record sales to back it up. As a young man, that was very exciting, and now I can feel proud of that, unashamedly.

People don’t acknowledge that when it all ended, I lost my job. One half of the company – my brother – decided to fold. I had to go with it, and it was terrifying. As much as it was heart-wrenching, it also created good butterflies. The feeling of: what next? I had youth on my side, and I could be optimistic. Do I still want to jump on stage with him? Absolutely. I’d like another Bros experience. Something massive, Bros on steroids. Bigger, the biggest. I don’t think the stars are aligned right now. It needs to be something that’s organic, and I ain’t chasing it any more.

I lost a stone during the filming of After the Screaming Stops. I was constantly chasing my tail, trying to make things right between me and my brother, but everything I said was wrong. I realised we had a lot of unfinished business, me and him. There was still a lot of pain. Together we endured our sister’s loss but had to keep working, get on with our lives while dealing with this deep tragedy. My bodyguard Johnny died of a brain tumour. Then Mum passed. All these important people were dropping away from us, and me and my brother had not even remotely addressed it, or any of our issues.

After I watched the documentary, I realised I was this guy who just wanted to make everything OK, but at my expense, and that’s not acceptable any more. I love my brother to my deepest core, but I’ve done my best to sustain the relationship, and now that is enough. That kind of dynamic can allow you to keep trying to bury yourself – and I got very close to that at one stage. Do I mean that literally? Yeah, I do. Thankfully, I’m much more relaxed and at peace with the situation now.

While I had an incredible time in Bros, my residency at Caesars Palace was just as extraordinary. When I first did Vegas, I got a bit of criticism. But I know I am good at what I do. I always smash a show and the audience leaves elevated – there’s comedy, a bit of booze and lots of music. When I walked on stage, I’d get a wink from the people working on the show. They knew I was about to raise the spirit of the room.

The happiest years of my life were when we were growing up in Camberwell – it was my grandfather, Aunt Sally, my brother, Mum and me. That humble childhood shaped me as a person – it was very basic, but with lots of love. It taught me never to underestimate the power of the roast potato with white pepper. I was obsessed with Thunderbirds and there was a stall on East Street market that used to sell the models. Lady Penelope was the first puppet I ever fell in love with.

There was no midlife crisis when I turned 50. I’ve always loved fast cars. I’ve always loved women. I’ve always loved sex and rock’n’roll – not the drugs. The only thing that changed was that I finally felt like a real man. I definitely became more comfortable in my skin – even if I look different from the guy in 1989. Life has its way with you and I think that comes out in your face, even your posture.

I have boxed for 22 years, I’m going back to the gym, doing a bit of tennis, too. I’ve heard that racket sports are the way to go for longevity. Philanthropy and music is a great healer for me also. But my real coping mechanism is, and always has been, kindness. I like to be around good people. I don’t like to be around anyone who is too cool for school. I’ve realised the people that don’t get me, I probably wouldn’t want to hang out with anyway.

One thing people don’t realise about me is that I’m very dry. My sense of humour is sarcastic, to the point that if you don’t know me, you might think I’m insulting you. I think we are all too PC today – I feel like we’ve become terrified of each other, and it’s making us lonely. The banter between a man and woman is phenomenal – there’s something magical about two people with a sense of humour. Obviously there are men who are predatory, but I’m not talking about that. To give somebody a hug or to say, “You look lovely today” shouldn’t mean you’re hitting on someone. We have to find a way to be more emotionally intelligent; to sustain a connection. Banter is everything for me, so if respect is in place, then we should all be a little less afraid of each other.

As for the guy in the photo, I love him. He dealt with so much. Sold millions of records. Had the longest-running residency in British Vegas history. Was the youngest artist to sell out and headline Wembley Stadium. I have a United Nations humanitarian award – something I am incredibly proud of. I’m doing a movie this year – which is terrifying, but in the best way. I am ready to bloody my knuckles on it. I’ve landed in such a phenomenal place as a person and even with the Bros situation, I have learned to relax and be joyful. What more could I ask for? I am a blessed man.