You might know him now as the soft-spoken "Radio 4 Vicar" or the guy who popped up on Strictly Come Dancing with a slightly bewildered expression. But long before the clerical collar, Richard Coles was part of a duo that basically provided the soundtrack to the mid-80s resistance. Along with Jimmy Somerville, Coles formed The Communards. They weren't just a synth-pop band; they were a loud, unapologetic, and fiercely political force during a decade that wasn't exactly kind to the LGBTQ+ community or the working class.
It's weird to think about it today.
One minute he’s playing a massive Fairlight CMI synthesizer on Top of the Pops, and a few decades later, he’s presiding over a parish in Northamptonshire. But if you look closely at the history of Richard Coles and The Communards, the trajectory actually makes a weird kind of sense. It’s a story of grief, disco, and an absolute refusal to stay quiet.
The Communards and the Radical Energy of 1985
After Jimmy Somerville walked away from Bronski Beat, people thought he was crazy. Why leave a band that just had a massive hit with "Smalltown Boy"? But Jimmy wanted something more overtly political. He teamed up with Richard Coles, a classically trained musician who could play the saxophone, the clarinet, and the keyboards. They took their name from the Paris Commune, a 19th-century revolutionary socialist government. That should tell you everything you need to know about their vibe.
They were intense.
The 80s were a time of Section 28 and the Miners' Strike. The Communards weren't just making dance music for the sake of it; they were making it as a form of defiance. Their debut album was a strange, beautiful mix of high-energy Hi-NRG beats and soulful, jazz-inflected ballads. Coles provided the musical backbone, bridging the gap between the electronic pulse of the clubs and a more traditional, almost academic musicality.
It worked. Boy, did it work.
Their cover of Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes' "Don't Leave Me This Way" didn't just top the charts; it stayed there for four weeks in 1986. It became the biggest-selling single of the year in the UK. If you were alive then, you couldn't escape it. Sarah Jane Morris provided that deep, gravelly vocal that played off Jimmy’s falsetto, while Richard’s synth arrangements kept the whole thing propelling forward like a freight train.
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Why Richard Coles and The Communards Actually Mattered
It wasn’t just about the "Don't Leave Me This Way" juggernaut, though. That would be a disservice to what they actually achieved. The Communards were one of the few mainstream acts that didn't hide who they were. In a world where many pop stars were still being advised to stay in the closet to protect record sales, Coles and Somerville were out, proud, and politically active.
They were deeply involved in the "Red Wedge" movement, a collective of musicians (including Billy Bragg and Paul Weller) who campaigned for the Labour Party and against Margaret Thatcher.
The Musical Complexity
Most people dismiss 80s synth-pop as thin or plastic. The Communards were the opposite. Because Richard Coles was a "proper" musician—someone who understood theory and composition—the tracks had layers. Listen to "Tomorrow" or "For a Friend." There’s a sophistication there that most of their peers lacked. "For a Friend" is particularly gut-wrenching. It was one of the first mainstream pop songs to address the AIDS crisis directly, written for their friend Mark Ashton, who founded Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.
It’s a somber, beautiful piece of music. It shows the range of Richard Coles and The Communards—they could make you sweat on a dancefloor and then make you weep two minutes later.
Honestly, the pressure of that era was immense. Coles has spoken openly in his memoirs, like Fathomless Riches, about the sheer chaos of those years. It was a whirlwind of drugs, fame, and the constant shadow of the HIV/AIDS epidemic that was decrying their entire social circle. By 1988, the flame had burned out. The band split, and Coles began the long, winding journey that would eventually lead him to the Church of England.
The Pivot from Pop Star to Priest
How do you go from being a pop star to a vicar? It’s the question everyone asks him. For Coles, it wasn't a sudden "bolt from the blue" conversion. It was a gradual realization born out of the grief he experienced during the 80s. When you spend your 20s watching your friends die, you start asking the big questions. You start looking for meaning that a Top 40 hit can't provide.
He attended King’s College London to study theology.
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He was ordained in 2005.
For many, the transition was jarring, but Coles bridged the gap with his trademark wit and self-deprecation. He didn't abandon his past; he integrated it. He became the "Saturday Live" presenter on BBC Radio 4, a contestant on Strictly, and a bestselling author. He showed that you can be a man of faith and still love a good disco beat.
The Reality of Fame and Loss
One thing that often gets lost in the "funny vicar" narrative is the tragedy Coles has faced. The loss of his partner, David Coles, in 2019 was a public moment of mourning that resonated with thousands. It highlighted the complexities of being a gay man within the Church of England—a struggle Coles has navigated with remarkable grace and honesty.
He’s never been one to sugarcoat things. Whether he’s talking about his struggle with addiction during the Communards days or the "widower's fog" he felt after David’s death, he’s consistently human. That’s why people connect with him. He’s not a cardboard cutout of a priest; he’s a guy who has lived a massive, messy, brilliant life.
Legacy of the Communards
If you go back and listen to their discography now, it holds up surprisingly well. The production on their second album, Red, is particularly lush. They managed to capture a very specific moment in British history—the tension between the hedonism of the 80s and the grim reality of the political climate.
- "Don't Leave Me This Way": Still a floor-filler at every wedding, but now carries the weight of a generation lost to AIDS.
- "You Are My World": A soaring testament to queer love when that was still a radical act.
- "So Cold the Night": A moody, cinematic track that showed Coles's ability to arrange complex pop.
The Communards were only together for a few years, but they left a massive footprint. They proved that pop music could be smart, political, and incredibly successful all at once. Richard Coles might be more comfortable in a pulpit than on a stage these days, but the DNA of his music—the empathy, the drama, and the defiance—is still very much part of who he is.
Taking Action: How to Explore Their History
If you're looking to dive deeper into this fascinating intersection of pop culture and British history, don't just stick to the Greatest Hits.
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1. Listen to the "Red" Album in Full
Most people only know the singles. Tracks like "Victims" and "There's More to Love Than Boy Meets Girl" give a much broader picture of their musical ambition. It’s a masterclass in 80s arrangement.
2. Read "Fathomless Riches" by Richard Coles
This is one of the most honest celebrity memoirs ever written. It details his time in The Communards with brutal clarity—no ego, just the truth about the highs and the devastating lows.
3. Watch the Documentary "Pride"
While it’s a film, not a documentary, it captures the "Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners" movement that Coles and Somerville were part of. It provides the essential context for why their music sounded the way it did.
4. Follow Coles’s Current Work on Grief
His book The Madness of Grief is an essential read for anyone navigating loss. It shows the evolution of the man who once played the synth for 100,000 people and now finds solace in the quiet rituals of life.
The story of Richard Coles and The Communards is a reminder that people are rarely just one thing. We are all capable of reinvention. We can be revolutionaries, pop stars, and priests, all in one lifetime. And we can dance while we're doing it.
Next Steps for the Reader:
To truly understand the era, seek out the 12-inch remixes of "Don't Leave Me This Way." These extended versions were the heartbeat of the underground club scene and show the technical prowess Richard Coles brought to the duo's sound. Additionally, look for archival footage of their 1986 "Red Wedge" performances to see the raw, political energy that defined their peak.