Kevin Rowland is a solo musician and front person of the band Dexys, formerly Dexys Midnight Runners. Born in 1953, Rowland spent his childhood in Wolverhampton, Ireland and Harrow in north London, where he lived from the age of 11. After a short career as a hairdresser, in 1978 Rowland formed Dexys Midnight Runners – a group that defied expectations with their unconventional style and songwriting, and went on to score two beloved No 1 hits: 1980’s Geno and 1982’s Come on Eileen. As well as Rowland’s two solo releases, the band have made five albums, the latest of which, The Feminine Divine, is out on 28 July. Dexys started to wear dungarees in 1982 and I was bored of them by early 83. Instead I’d undo the top bit and pull it down, and put a belt on so they’d look like a pair of high-waisted trousers. I can’t remember why I cut the top off the Converse in this picture, but I cut a lot of my clothes up. Also, my hair! A guy I’d met told me how to get dreads, so it was just starting to go a little bit dread-y. This point in my life was busy – a lot of photoshoots and promotion for Come on Eileen – but I mostly liked being in Dexys. It wasn’t until we started playing live that I didn’t enjoy things so much. It was a lot of pressure, and while I never admitted it at the time, anxiety would interfere with a lot of my performances. I wasn’t able to relax – I’d be singing and thinking: “What are the audience thinking?” Before a show, I’d get really manic. The concept of trying to calm myself down or breathe never even occurred to me. Getting older, I’ve had to learn how to regulate my nervous system, because otherwise it would eat me up. When I was growing up, the men in my life were very strong. My dad worked in the building trade and his mates were manual labourers and very tough. Any expression of feminine energy was out of bounds, off-limits. It was clearly for girls only. I was close to my mum – she was very sweet – but I didn’t feel I could always be all of myself at home. I still expressed myself with dancing, mainly reggae dancing, and especially with clothes. I also had a big interest in hair. I’d often go around with a comb. From a very young age, I’d be sitting by my dad’s armchair asking: “Can I comb your hair? Why don’t you shave your tache off? Dad, I just saw a guy who was balding and he got a crop and it looks really good!” He tolerated it, really. When I was 15 and had just left school, I started wearing very smart American clothes – short, parallel trousers with turn-ups, Ivy League shoes and maybe a trilby. I had my gang, and some of them would come up to me for counsel about how they should dress. One guy, one of the leaders, used to call me Mary Quant. It was a slightly derogatory nickname, but well-meaning, really. That conservative sort of style I was wearing as a teenager was quite subversive in north London, especially compared with what was happening in the West End with the swinging 60s. It was never a conscious decision to challenge the mainstream – my choices have always been instinctive. For example, in my new video for Dexys’ I’m Going to Get Free, I’m wearing a red velvet suit I designed myself. It’s got a short jacket, six buttons, a round collar and lapels. Big trousers. I think it looks great, but there have been a lot of comments on Facebook about my look that I know I shouldn’t look at, but I do. The women mostly go: “Oh, he looks cool.” But some of the guys have said things like: “He looks like a nonce.” When I released My Beauty [Rowland’s 1999 solo covers album], it got a similar reaction [on its cover Rowland wears a dress, stockings and makeup]. Again, the clothing choices were completely intuitive. I’d gone into recovery from cocaine addiction in 93 and then spent about two years reappraising everything. In 95, I started to feel better. It was like I had a blank slate and the past didn’t exist. I woke up one night with a vision of a dress, and I drew it, bought some fabric and got it made. I really wanted to paint my nails – so I did. I was very naive, thinking people were going to love this new image. So when it got such an unpleasant response, I took it incredibly personally. I almost thought I’d done something wrong. Not long after that, I grew a beard and started wearing big heavy boots. A real macho look. I battened down the hatches on the feminine. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve opened up more again. A trip I had to Thailand was quite significant in that change. I was burnt out [after Dexys’ 2016 album Let the Record Show: Dexys Do Irish and Country Soul], partly because of the strains of working with a major label, and also because my mother passed that year. I didn’t have any intention of doing music again. I thought: “I’m not sure if I can keep doing this.” I started to think about designing clothes instead. I was just so drained. But then I went to Thailand and learned [the ancient Chinese philosophy and religion] Tao, and discovered the process of getting into your body more. The more I did that, the more my true self started to come out. I learned that I’ve got a lot of feminine energy as well as masculine. I think everybody has. We’re all somewhere between masculine and feminine at different times in our lives, but I’d been closed down to that concept. Through Tao, I learned about the concept of women as goddesses. I realised that women are powerful. Until then, I’d never really tried to understand them. That’s quite an incredible admission, really. Compared with the person in that original photo, I’m more honest now. I’m more aware of other people. I’m definitely more aware of myself. I don’t think I had any awareness whatsoever, really, of what life was about back then. I had no real interest in it either: I was quite a control freak and obsessive – and I still am – about work. But I didn’t know it was negative. These days I work hard at keeping that obsession at bay, because it’s not creative, especially when you burn out. I’d like to think I have left that kind of all-consuming attitude behind, but I still get nervous. I’m nervous now about things that are five months away! I’m already obsessing over what might happen when we play this summer: “Am I going to be able to manage it? Will my voice hold out?” I need to remember that it’ll be as it’s meant to be. I’m not in control, even if I sometimes think I am. As for the commenters, these days I take criticism far less personally. My general attitude is: “Fuck ’em.” I’ll just enjoy them getting wound up, because they’re the ones with the issues. I know I’m not trying to be different for the sake of it. If I happen upon a style that I like, and then realise, “Oh, so-and-so’s wearing it too” – forget it. I am and will always be an individual.