But the reason it’s a bit on the sacrilegious side is not simply that I don’t like him in that indefinable, oh-there’s-something-about-him kind of way you feel for some celebs. I mean I can’t take to the guy because ? among other things, but it fundamentally boils down to this ? I don’t rate him as a musician.

Crikey, I can almost hear the collective sharp intake of breath because love or loathe The Michael as a geezer the received wisdom regarding his long and illustrious career is that he’s an artist of rare range and gift, a musical giant whose talent towers head and shoulders above the ubiquitous pop pigmies who populate and dominate the current contemporary music market.

I just don’t get it, though. I can’t for the life of me see why punters and critics alike rave about the multi-layered complexity of his voice, the nuanced profundity of his songwriting and the command he possesses over his live congregation. I’ve seen him in concert a couple of times (through work, natch) and have been left decidedly unwowed at the end of the evening.

To me, there’s a detachment, a sort of emotional bypass, that places him at arm’s length from the audience. In some ways, he’s too slickly polished to engender any true reaction or feeling. Typically ? and perversely ? I could get onboard with Georgie Boy circa his cheeseboard Wham! days because at least that strand of bubblegum pop gets you bopping and feeling good and has a certain degree of honesty at its core.

Honesty has proven to be a somewhat elastic concept to Michael, so I approached this latest ? presumably unauthorised, although it doesn’t say ? with intrigue. Was it going to show a side to Michael that everyone else can see but I sadly can’t? Was it going to do a bit of lid-lifting on the ‘real’ person behind the public persona? Was it going to be replete with juicy celebrity morsels for me to chew on and spit out?

Answer: not on your nelly. As a revelation-revealer it comes up as short as Danny DeVito.

Broadly-speaking, biographies fall into two categories. There’s the loose-lipped tell-aller crammed chocker with indiscretion and gossip. The other prototype is a gameplan; write 50,000 words about your subject, their family, their career, their life, whilst divulging precisely zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothing too personal, nothing too exposing. In other words, nothing that will cross the privacy cordon.

Rob Jovanovic, Michael’s pop laureate, opts for the latter because, just a few pages in, you can tell he approaches his ‘prey’ with the fervour of a fan. Fine, if you’re already a Michael admirer, but if you’re still waiting to be won over then a puff-piece biog, essentially a flattering living obit, is not a good jumping-off point.

Yes, Jovanovic dutifully chronicles the events of Michael’s colour-swatched life, but never injects any colour into Michael’s life. There’s more to the biography business than collating facts, figures and fucks, otherwise we’d all be penning bestsellers; there’s a narrative arc you’ve got to give to a life, some pump you should give to the heart of a person.

Also, any biographer worth their sea salt knows that, even if you’re the proverbial diehard superfan, you still need to temper the sweet with a little sour. Ultimately, Jovanovic is too uncritical. Again, fine, I can live with that, but when his veers towards the congratulatory on the issue of Michael’s recent vocal musings on gayness I lose the will to live. Does someone who spent such a long time in the closet he came out practically riddled with mothballs really warrant praise? OK, we all know it was difficult for him in that type of industry, but by the same token a biographer hinting that Michael is the new ambassador of gay rights and issues is beyond hypocritical. It’s downright insulting. When it was harder for him to come clean, Michael didn’t and when it became easier he did. End of.

A missed opportunity to dissect a character who’s probably far more fascinating than his music, George Michael: The Biography is like the man himself: competent, yet detached, open, yet closed, and, most important of all despite protestations to the contrary, as safe as homo houses. My advice is save your money and wait for the self-scribed autobiography by the great man himself slated for release later this year.

George Michael: The Biography, by Rob Jovanovic
Published by: Portrait
Released: 8 November 2007
ISBN: 0749951419

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