‘Kerry’s spoken verse needed 39 takes spread over several months because she’d had her tonsils out’
People never believe me that Kraftwerk created Atomic Kitten. In 1996, my band OMD released Walking on the Milky Way, which I thought was one of the best songs I’d ever written. But in the age of Britpop, we were perceived as an 80s synthpop band, past our sell-by date. Radio 2 wouldn’t play the song and Woolworths wouldn’t stock it. I thought: “I’m functioning with one arm tied behind my back.” So my friend Karl Bartos of Kraftwerk said: “Why don’t you create a girl band as a vehicle for your songs?”
I arranged to meet Kerry Katona, and she came bouncing into the studio and proceeded to show us the topless photographs she’d just had taken, which I thought was an interesting interview technique. She wasn’t the greatest singer, but she was like Marilyn Monroe: she didn’t know how engaging and beautiful she was. She was also the band’s choreographer. And I knew she would put her head through a brick wall to be famous, because she’d had such a difficult life and thought being rich and famous would change everything.
Liz McClarnon came in with these bright blue contact lenses, while Natasha Hamilton had red hair and the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. I said to Stuart Kershaw [OMD drummer and Atomic Kitten co-creator]: “If she can sing, she’s in.” And, boy, could she sing.
