What a heartbreaking ending to Paul Cattermole ’s story. On the brink of a comeback, with extra dates added to the reunion tour after phenomenal demand, he’s gone.
As a junior reporter on a celebrity magazine in the 2000s I was often around pop stars like S Club 7. Bright-eyed young wannabes who couldn’t believe their luck, living out their wildest dreams, convinced their current situation would last for ever.
Back then we all happily bought – literally – into the idea that There Ain’t No Party Like An S Club Party, but no one thought about who was going to do the tidying up, and soothe the sore heads, the morning after.
It’s the tale as old as time, which no young pop star thinks will happen to them.
Every second of their day is rigidly scheduled, they’re travelling so often, for such short bursts, they’re regularly unsure what country they’re in.
Life is a whirlwind of interviews, performances and parties, being mobbed by hysterical fans screaming their name, living at such an exhausting, breakneck pace there’s often no time to eat or sleep – 18-hour days, no days off – and then, suddenly… nothing. The bubble bursts. It’s over.
And all they’re left with is an empty diary, and no reason to get up in the morning. Overnight they go from not having a second to think, to all the time in the world stretching out in front of them, endlessly.
As Ritchie Neville, from S Club’s contemporaries 5ive has explained, “It was like strapping ourselves to a rocket and being dropped back down to earth five years later.”
For the ones who made money and were sensible with it, at least that anxiety is removed, but that doesn’t mean life is necessarily any happier or more fulfilling. Look at Britney Spears.
“I had this vision of hanging out with my kids and seeing my mates,” Brian McFadden has said of his time after Westlife. “But everyone around me was off to work and the kids were in school. I went from being surrounded by all these people every day and singing in front of thousands to being surrounded by... nobody.”
Paul Cattermole, once so full of excited, bouncy hope and promise, was used up and spat out by fame. He was left with nothing, while manager Simon Fuller’s wealth was recently estimated to be £445million.
At the height of their success – 10 million albums sold worldwide, their TV show watched by 90 million viewers in over 100 countries – only Fuller was signed to the record label, with S Club 7 themselves classed as “affiliates”. Paul later described it as, “the worst situation to be in”.
“It’s not a fair way of doing things,” he said. “If you’re making 20-year-old kids work every single day of the week, you’ve got to make sure they’re paid well.”
In 2018, Paul tried to sell his Brit Award on eBay to pay his tax bill, appearing on Loose Women to discuss it in a shirt they’d had to buy for him because he couldn’t afford it.
When you’ve achieved – probably far surpassed – all your goals by your mid-20s, what exactly are you meant to do then? These fresh faced has-beens who had naively signed their lives and rights away because they were desperate for stardom are in an impossible situation.
The entertainment industry needs to launch a duty of care so they’re supported after the hits dry up. So they still feel valued when they’re not making bigwigs rich.
So that when the fame fades, they have something left.
