BOY ABOUT TOWN by TONY FLETCHER (2013)

Tony Fletcher is the author of numerous books including the definitive Keith Moon biography Dear Boy and an exhaustive account of The Smiths, A Light That Never Goes Out. In the 1980s he wrote for The Face, was a presenter on Channel 4’s The Tube and his Jamming! magazine sat on the shelves of WH Smiths (described to me the other day as Smash Hits’ cool older brother).  

Yet for many Fletcher is synonymous, even now, with the late 70s fanzine culture that saw the likes of Sniffin’ Glue, Maximum Speed and his own Jamming! give a platform for enthusiastic young kids to write about their music.

Boy About Town is Fletcher’s memoir of that period and whilst his coming of age story is fairly unremarkable in regard to friendships, football matches, school trips, being bullied, forming a band, dabbling with drugs, milking the lizard and a desperate need to lose his cherry, his activities and associations which stemmed from producing his own fanzine are anything but ordinary.

Inspired by Jon Savage’s fanzine article in Sounds in 1977, thirteen year old Fletcher was soon knocking out his own (fanzine, that is) and within a year and six issues it was fast on its way to becoming one of the most celebrated of the era, boasting interviews with upcoming Adam and the Ants, Scritti Politti and Alternative TV next to big names The Jam and, incredibly, Pete Townshend. Soon after, as told in the book, there are memorable encounters with The Damned, The Fall, The Undertones and many others as Fletcher immersed himself the DIY post-punk and, for a brief time, mod scenes.

A central presence in the book is The Jam and particularly Paul Weller. Of course The Jam were well known for their accessibility: allowing fans to watch their sound checks; letting them in the studio; and removing as many barriers between band and fan as possible. Therefore it’s not surprising Weller was more than happy to give an interview to a thirteen young old but what is striking is how Weller didn’t leave it there but followed it up with invites to gigs, supportive letters and an open invitation to drop by the studio whenever they were recording; not once does he come across as patronising or anything but genuinely supportive of Tony’s endeavours. Fletcher doesn’t say it but it’s hard not to think Weller didn’t see something of himself in his young fan’s quiet ambition, determination and entrepreneurial flair. Boy About Town is recommended for plentiful Jam anecdotes and insights alone, including a few details worthy of quiz questions.

How much The Jam were the people’s band (and the band for the most discerning school kids) is best illustrated by the Tony’s discovery “Going Underground” had gone straight in at number one as he was out of school one Tuesday lunchtime. He rushes back to tell his classmates the news before afternoon registration. “A massive roar went up. We found ourselves jumping up and down together, like we all supported the same football team and they’d just won the Cup”.  It’s my favourite moment in the book but a bittersweet memory “And with that, it sank in. They were no longer our band.”

Fletcher was also a big fan of The Who, discovering them via the Quadrophenia and Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy LPs and going to see their massive gig (on his own, aged 12) at Charlton. His brief encounter with Keith Moon later is very sweet and shows a lovely side to Keith, so much so that when Moonie dies Fletcher promised himself that one day he will “put the record straight”. Most of the book is written from the viewpoint his teenage self (the only excuse for using terms “modette” and “punkette”) but on occasion elements of a grown up perceptive creep in. I can’t quite believe all the observations took place whilst growing up, even for an observer as astute as Fletcher.

And it’s as an observer where Fletcher shines. Although he witnessed (or not witnessed, as he missed the infamous Bill Grundy appearance) punk hit its peak and then again as the mod revival briefly took hold, Tony never threw his lot in with any cult or fad. Only last week I saw Jamming! referred to as mod fanzine, something it definitely wasn’t although it was supportive of some of the bands (notably Southend’s Speedball who feature heavily) and he did see it develop from queues of young mods outside The Who’s Rainbow gig in ’78 to gigs at The Wellington pub in Waterloo and burn out at a rapidly once it appeared on Janet Street Porter’s London Weekend Show.

Fletcher had a healthy scepticism about the mod revival and was furious at being labelled a mod but it’s interesting to read his more dispassionate account of it from the view of an onlooker. Secret Affair in particular are accused cynically manoeuvring themselves at the vanguard of the movement and denying their recent past. “Even if looking good was the answer, looking backwards most certainly was not.”

Looking over one’s shoulder was a good idea back in the late 70s, as violent skinheads (the right-wing moron kind) were omnipresent at gigs. It’s hard to imagine fights at gigs these days but back then it was difficult to imagine going to a gig without that thought becoming a reality. I’ve mainly focused above on the mod element but Boy About Town is about much more than that. Fletcher paints a vivid picture of the time – both through the eyes of a boy dealing with growing up and into the underground music scene of bands, fanzines, small record labels, and a staunchly independent spirit.

The book ends with Tony taking his O Levels and receiving an amazing proposition from Paul Weller. It’s a great read and one which potentially invites the difficult second album syndrome.   

Boy About Town by Tony Fletcher is published by William Heinemann, out now. 

For more info check Tony's ijamming.net

FULL MOON: INTERVIEW WITH KEITH MOON’S RIGHT HAND MAN AND CO-CONSPIRATOR, DOUGAL BUTLER (2012)

Peter “Dougal” Butler had the daunting job title of Keith Moon’s Personal Assistant. Dougal’s account, first published in the UK in 1981 as Moon The Loon, lovingly catalogues ten years of crazy escapades, often in bawdy detail. It is one of the funniest books you’ll ever read and an appropriately hilarious tribute to his former employer. Long out of print, it now sees the light again thanks to a new edition published on the 7th July as Full Moon by Faber Finds, available as a "proper" book and an e-book.  An audio version follows on the 1st August. MonkeyPicks shared a cup of tea, a chinwag, and plenty of laughs with its very genial author.         

How do you feel about seeing your book back in print?

I’m – excuse the pun – over the moon about it. Word for word that is how Keith sounded, those were his antics. I’m really pleased with it even though it’s now thirty years later. It’s coming out exactly as it was, no changes, and Keith’s old friend Karl Howman has done a brilliant job reading the entire book for the audio version for Talking Books. 

Where did you first see The Who?

Either the Blue Moon in Hayes or a big gig they did at the Southall Community Centre.  I was wearing my Ivy League suit and BlueBeat hat and I remember them doing “Heatwave” and “Barbara Ann” so it was 1964 or maybe early 1965. I used to go and see them all the time. They were my favourite band, I was a mod and I spent all my money on clothes. 

Tell us about your mod days.

I remember buying this suede coat from Petticoat Lane, beautiful, in mustard yellow, full length, had the Levi’s with the little turn-ups, Hush Puppies, Fred Perry shirts, crew cut. I remember coming down the stairs at home checking myself out in the full length mirror thinking I was the dog’s bollocks. My dad looks at me and this yellow coat and says “Have you seen the fucking state of you, going out like that?” I used to go on my mate’s scooter to all the places: the Ricky Tick, the Blue Moon, the Marquee, and the 100 Club. We’d meet at the Queen’s Head in Uxbridge and everyone would go to Burton’s Dancehall around the corner on a Saturday night before getting the tube into town to the Flamingo. Then we’d jump on the milk train to get back at five o’clock in the morning.    

Did you own a scooter?

I never had my own scooter as my parents said I’d kill myself. Me and my mates clubbed together to buy an early 1950s Rover, running boards, the lot, for £17 to go down to Brighton. I was still at school and not old enough to have a licence but my parents were away so we put it in their garage and cleaned it all up. Eight of us drove it down to Brighton, no licence, no tax, all done up to the nines in all our mod gear. There were thousands of mods around and we nicked the tax disc from this two-seater Messerschmitt car there and put it on ours.  Slept in the car, and of course all the riots and stuff started happened and three of my mates were arrested, so we panicked and left it down there and caught the train home. Never saw it again.

What were the riots as bad as we read?

Oh yeah.  Obviously the press build things up but it was all running along Brighton front with the rockers and that. It was horrible down on the beach. When you get older you wonder why you did it, what was the cause, did it but it was an of the moment thing.

How did you first get involved with working for The Who in 1967?

Mod connects through Bob Pridden, who is still the Who’s road manager.  Although I was born in Southall I grew up mainly in Hayes but didn’t like Hayes so ventured a bit further out and knew Bob when he was a mod and had a scooter and we went to see The Who together. Bob said he’d got a job with band starting with a two week tour of Scotland. I was on 5 pound a week and Bob said he’d give me fifteen quid a week to help him. I thought I’d won the lottery. I went home and told me mum, all proud as punch. “Ah, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll be into drugs. I thought you said you’d be doing an apprenticeship to do central heating”. But it was only for two weeks so I did it and they asked me to stay. 

What were your first impressions meeting the band?

Prior to going to on tour Bob took me to Track Records office in Old Compton Street to meet the people there. Unbeknown to me Keith and John walked in. Keith was wearing this second hand fur coat and introduced himself and John. You know when you’re attracted to someone, and know you’re going to get along, have a laugh and have some fun. It was just instant with Keith and John.  To cut a long story short I left the office and they left too. Me and Bob stopped at some traffic lights in St. John’s Wood and they pull up by the side of us on the right hand side. I’ve got the window down and Keith shouting “Alright mate! Welcome!” and chucks a bloody great smoke bomb through the window. We were stuck at the lights with our car filling up with blue smoke, couldn’t see nothing, just laughing our heads off. So that was my inauguration.

How do you move from being a roadie to working as a personal assistant?

I worked with John as his PA first for a while, which was great, a fabulous guy. I didn’t fall out with John at all but I got a call from Keith to be his PA. I think the guy who was then working for Keith was trying to be Keith, if you understand what I mean. I got a phone call about eleven o’clock at night at my parent house. “I’ve had a word with John and I want you to work for me.” I was like er, er, er, what am I getting myself into here? I took it and Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp came up to me after and said, “We trust you with Keith but if you ever want any time off, for a holiday or some sort of rest, let us know and we’ll pay for it.” This was great of them, although I never took up their offer. 

Did you have a job description of any kind?

No, I’d just take it as it came. You never what corner he’d turn so you just had to be on your toes. It was instant decisions about what to do. Luckily 90% of time it worked and I got him out of situations. I was never a fighter, just had to use a bit of tact. Some of these guys we met had bodyguards when they went out, but Keith just had me: ten stone of fuck all, which was a challenge but we managed to wheedle our way out of most things. Me and Keith had our arguments but he was great. I never told him what he could or couldn’t do because it wasn’t my bag but I kept my eye on him and he was great fun. If he wanted to do something he’d do it. Sometimes I’d hold his coat and say go for it. What you learnt was what was going on in his mind and tried to be a step or two ahead but he was very unpredictable.

Did Keith have any limits?

No, he didn’t have any limits, and I think that was with his drugs sometimes. They were legal - drynamil and mandrax - but Keith would take handfuls instead of two or three a day. So those mixed with the alcohol would mean he didn’t know when to stop. He was trying to make people laugh and be Mr Funny, he wanted people to love him and enjoy him, but he would go so far. Like a train ride you couldn’t stop. I’d have to say to him, “Look Keith, we’ve got to be up at seven o’clock in the morning – not that we ever got up then –for a photo shoot or recording, come on, we’ve got to go” to get him home.  Keith would do anything for a laugh. Most guys when they’re single will always meet up with the boys on a Friday night in the pub, and there’s always one of them that you hope is going to be there because they are a character, have a great sense of humour and will come out with jokes, and make you laugh. And Keith was one of those characters.  He was a joy to be around, most of the time, although he could also be a right pain in the arse. 

Do you think he ever would have settled down?

No I don’t think so. I knew he was trying to get off the booze and drugs just before he died and I’d put him into AA over in LA, and over here, but any drug addict or alcoholic will tell you that you can get all the help from your family and friends but the only person that can do it is that person themself. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.

It’s hard to imagine Keith with a hobby but did he have any interests?

No, none. I suppose if he’d been into football or golf or cricket or whatever he would’ve had a routine of some sort but he wasn’t interested in anything, nothing at all. He never even practised the drums. The only time he practised was when the band was rehearsing for tours. He never had a drum kit at home or in the garage. He wasn’t into keeping fit like Roger was. He just loved eating and drinking at home. His beach house in LA, next door to Steve McQueen, had a beautiful lounge but he never spend any time in there. He’d be in his bedroom watching TV and that was that. What was horrible about LA was he attracted the wrong type of people: all the drug people, all the wannabes. It would drive me insane. They’d come in with big bags of coke [demonstrates the size of a pound of sugar] and I’d go “Whooah, let me have that.”  They’d say it was for Keith and I’d tell them I’d sort it. I’d go into the khazi, shut the door, and pour it down the pan. Later I’d mix up sugar and salt and line them up. I’d be drinking my Heineken and thinking “You bunch of wankers.”

How was he on set for That’ll Be The Day and Stardust?

Oh, fantastic. Especially on That’ll Be The Day we had some great times, brilliant fun. David Puttnam asked who we’d cast in Stardust and as Keith loved I Dream Of Jeannie with Larry Hagman, Puttnam agreed to cast Larry. From the day we met, Keith and Larry got on famously. I have to say he is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. There are no qualms about him, he’s just fabulous, a lovely man who we spent a lot of time with. I did try to get Keith into the movies but he would never have made a movie star because you’d have to be regimented and he’d blow it every time. On Yellowbeard, which Graham Chapman of Monty Python wrote, he went for a screen test. Graham said “Well done Keith” but as soon as Keith drove off the director came over and it was “No way Jose.”

Didn’t Oliver Reed buy Keith a tortoise?

Yes, they used to bring it on set during Tommy and when there was a break in filming they’d put it on the table with a glass of brandy on its back and pass between each other. He was great Ollie. We first met him before starting Tommy when Keith said to the film people he needed a helicopter. “Yes, I’d like a helicopter now please, from Battersea. I want to pop round and see Ollie to break the ice.” So we flew to his place just outside Dorking and Ollie is there with a twelve-bore shotgun going “Fuck off!” shooting at us. The pilot is nearly shitting himself, Keith was laughing, I was thinking oh god what’s going to happen here: Keith, Ollie, a shotgun, and they’ve not even met yet! They got on like a house on fire. That night the three of us got absolutely pissed and he was teaching Keith Shakespeare.

You write in your book about Keith not having many real friends...

No, he didn’t really. There was Ringo, Harry Nilsson, and the rest of The Who but as close, close friends he didn’t really have one. He’d phone me up and talk to me about anything and probably Pete Townshend as well if he was worried about something. Pete was a gentleman enough to hang on the phone and talk for a bit but he knew when Keith was out of it and put the phone down on him knowing he’d forget all about it.

Did you consider yourself a proper mate to him?

Yeah I did and think that was how we got on. I’d get fired every week and I’d threaten to leave the next week but it was a love relationship. I don’t mean in a sexual way, let’s get that straight right away! We were good, good mates and sometimes that doesn’t work in business but I suppose I didn’t look at it as a business, but it became too much for me in the end, especially living in LA with all these hangers-on, I could just see him not making it.

What was his relationship like with his wife Kim when they were at living at Tara House in Chertsey?

He and Kim were breaking up. It was difficult as there’s no way any decent girl should live with a human being like that, and I mean that in the nicest possible way, especially with a young kid, Mandy, in tow. You can’t bring up a child in that environment and Kim was fully aware of that. She gave Keith quite a few chances. Everybody loved Kim and everybody loved Keith. I was sort of piggy in middle. I knew what she was doing, I knew what he was doing, and I had to try to steer both of them. I saw Keith in tears sometimes. When she left I had to tread a careful line. Why should I have to take sides and say who was right or wrong, I loved them both. It devastated Keith when they got divorced. “She’ll come back,” he said. I said “Keith, she won’t.”

Do you think Kim was the only person Keith really loved?

Yes, and I don’t mean to hurt Annette who he was with after, but I do really truly believe that. For instance, when we were living in LA with Annette, Keith used to love his curries and there was only one Indian restaurant in Santa Monica and we went and ordered a takeaway. There was this girl in there that looked the spitting image of Kim. He ordered his meal, looked up, clocked her, and went and sat outside. He was sobbing his heart out. I knew what he’d seen. But Keith never learnt his lessons. He went through it again with Annette and abused that situation too. 

What’s your favourite Moonie exploit?

There are lots. Throwing cherry bombs in lifts when you didn’t know who was in there was good fun and when we were in Detroit Judy Carne was doing a play with Patrick MacNee and they were staying at the same hotel as us. We’d done the gig and went back to the hotel to find them and a guy from Three Dog Night who was with Judy.  We were chatting and getting slowly pissed in their room and after a while I said to Keith we’d better go as they wanted to go to bed.  In the meantime we’d bought these gas guns. We got back to our room and were still buzzing and thinking what shall we do now.  So we decided to go back to their room and set these gas guns off for a laugh. We’re back in the lift, hiding these guns for the security guys, and Keith couldn’t remember what suite they were in.  I said I thought it was this one and we tucked the guns underneath their door and on the count of three we fired them. BOOM! All of a sudden there was this rrroof-rrroof-rrroof, dogs barking. I said to Keith “Fuck me, I don’t remember them having dogs!”  There was some woman in there who was taking her dogs to a dog show and we’d gassed them!  We ran back to our room and were in hysterics. They didn’t die or anything, the gas only really created a bit of smell and then it goes. 

Keith famously took anything and everything he was offered but there didn’t seem much heroin around...

No there wasn’t.  You talking about heroin I remember when Ronnie Wood had just joined the Stones and he was renting a place in Malibu. His first child had been born so we went round there to celebrate. Mick Jagger was there, Linda Ronstadt, the bass player from The Band, a few other Faces.  Me and Keith were sitting out on the porch and on the table was a phial of coke. “Oh, look dear boy, look what someone has left us.” He had a big sniff, I had one, and an hour later I was seeing blue, green, thinking fuck me what’s going on here? Keith was perfectly alright. I was going dizzy, seeing sort of traffic lights in front of my eyes. Diana Ross walks me along the beach. She was great, hitting me in the stomach, I was being sick. I hadn’t realised we’d taken heroin. It was fucking awful. Didn’t even touch the sides with Keith, “You alright Dougal, dear boy?”

The 1970s rock and roll lifestyle was divorced from most people’s reality, how was it for you?

I tried to keep my feet on the ground.  In those days, the late 60s, early 70s a lot of the roadies and people would knock around together but I didn’t, I tried to keep away from that, tried to keep with my own mates who were totally separate from that industry.  Hence I’d go down the Coach and Horse in Ickenham, and go to parties with “normal people” if you like, to get away from that madness.  Although, don’t get me wrong, when I did go to industry parties I’d enjoy myself but as far as my mates went they had normal jobs and that kept me sane. 

Did Keith’s behaviour wear the rest of The Who down?

Roger said to me four or five months before I left that I needed to have a word with Keith because if he didn’t get himself together he would be out of the band. I said I couldn’t tell him that, it had to come from him and the rest of the band. I didn’t think it should come from me. I think the quality of his lifestyle did effect his drumming in the end. He’d ballooned up, put on a lot of weight. I don’t know if he sort of gave up but I know he wouldn’t have committed suicide. 

How did it end with the pair of you?

We had one big punch-up, and we never hit each other before, ever, but fists were thrown. I don’t mind admitting it but I was taking coke, only a little bit just to keep up with Keith, but I didn’t want to go down that road. I could see Keith destroying himself. I let him have it and we had words, “you’re this”, and “you’re that.”  I rang up The Who’s manager Bill Curbishley and said he had to bring him home from LA because I can’t do this anymore and one of us is going to pop our socks and it fucking ain’t going to be me. If he didn’t get him home he’d be dead within months.  Anyway, we got him home and Pete bought him a flat, but as we known he would die about nine months later. 

Do you still keep in contact with The Who?

I speak to Roger five or six times a year, less so Pete who I’ve not spoken to for a while. I still see Alison Entwistle and spend a lot of time with her, and Keith’s mum has moved down the road so I pop in for a cup of tea with her and Keith’s sister. 

Finally, if you had to advertise the job as Keith’s personal assistant, what would you say?

Long days and nights, sense of humour, and must handle with care. 

Interview by Mark Raison and Paula Baker. Huge thanks to Dougal. 

Full Moon by Peter "Dougal" Butler with Chris Trengrove and Peter Lawrence is published by Faber Finds.  Dougal will be signing copies at the Who's Who gig this Saturday, 7^th July, at the Half Moon, Putney.  

Website: Full Moon The Book

MONKEY'S SUNDAY SWING #2: WE ARE THE MODS, WE ARE THE MODS...

The M word has featured heavily during the last ten days or so, here's a look back.

I can’t recall the last time I saw a club advertised as a mod club and The Sidewinder in Islington doesn't, but that’s what it is.  Tucked away in a fabulous club room within the Wenlock and Essex, Essex Road, N1 on the first Thursday of each month it manages to be a relaxed affair yet still entice people on to the illuminated dancefloor with its soul, jazz and R&B soundtrack.  The highlight for me there this week was chatting to Martin Fuggles, who was the DJ at the Ricky Tick Club in Windsor during the mid-60s.  There were a number of Ricky Tick clubs but the Windsor one, in a mansion by the river, is regarded as the main one, and the one replicated in the film Blow Up when The Yardbirds tore it up.  Martin would DJ on two turntables built inside a gold painted piano, a playlist dominated by the Motown, Atlantic and Stax releases he’d purchase each week from a stall in Slough. Martin said he’d been reintroduced to the mod scene a couple of years ago and was now enjoying trying to catch up on what he’d missed and seeing how things had developed in his absence.  He still has all his old records but had lost interest in music once Pink Floyd had come along, saying if that was the future of music he wanted no part of it.  We chatted about what sounds were popular at the time and I asked him about The Impressions, to which he pulled a great OH MY GOD, THE IMPRESSIONS sex face.  This was exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.  He often began his sets with “It’s Alright” and would buy half a dozen extra copies of their records to sell down the Ricky Tick.  He also said that their gig at the Barbican last year was the second best gig he’d ever been to (one behind Buddy Holly and the Crickets).  The group are playing at the Jazz Café in London next month and if at all possible you must go.  To read me becoming all emotional about the Barbican night click here.  Naturally I tried digging for info about The Action but although he knew they’d played the club he couldn’t remember anything in particular about them.  Damn.  Martin certainly considered himself a mod back, complete with scooter, but soon learnt “you needed four wheels if you wanted to pull the better birds”, and carry your records of course.  It was fascinating chatting with him and hopefully he’ll be on at Sidewinder in the future.  His Ricky Tick site has more news and more posters like the one shown above.  The next Sidewinder is on Thursday 5th July.        

The launch party at the Fred Perry shop in Covent Garden for The A-Z of Mod book by Paolo Hewitt and Mark Baxter was a swinging affair with some well-known scene faces in attendance and even Phil Daniels popping by.  Luckily for him by the time I’d had enough to drink to recite chunks of Quadrophenia  – because he would have loved that – he’d disappeared.   It wouldn’t be right to review the book in detail as it was a birthday present for Mrs Monkey by Monkey Snr so try the one in The Guardian and work it out for yourself.  There’s a picture of Mrs Monkey and her sister in the book adopting their usual Kray twins stance - looking like they’d slash your throat with their haircuts if you stood too close. On the off-chance they read this I should add they aren't quite as menacing in real life. 

Also in Mrs M’s birthday haul was The Treasures of The Who by Chris Welch, a hardback, boxed book containing memorabilia inserted into the pages.  There are some great reproductions of Marquee contracts, posters, flyers (cool one from the Goldhawk “Beat” Club where The Who played Good Friday 1965 and The Boys played on Saturday), an early letter to fan from Roger Daltrey and a postcard from Keith Moon.  It sells for twenty five quid but was a lot cheaper in Fopp or a bit cheaper from that on-line retail place.  

On the subject of Keith Moon, keep your eyes open for a summer publication of Full Moon by Dougal Butler.  Original published in 1981 by Moonie’s personal assistant, with Chris Tengrove and Peter Lawrence, it's utterly hilarious in places and terribly sad in others.  I remember tears of laughter streaming down my face when I first read it when published as Moon The Loon.  Find out more at Full Moon The Book.

KEITH MOON - PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHED PHOTOGRAPHS

Today would be Keith Moon’s 65th birthday, so a perfect opportunity to share what I believe are previously unseen pictures.

I bought them some years back from a chap who had a box of photographs taken backstage at various mid 70’s gigs in America. He couldn’t be any more specific but Keith wore a series of motor racing tops during 1975 so safe to say these are from then.

As they show another other side of Moon The Loon, I love them. Here's to you dear boy.

KEITH MOON AND OLIVER REED

Cheers!

FOR KEITH MOON: THE WHO - PICTURES OF LILY

Keith Moon would've been 64 today. There was more chance of him growing up to present Newsnight. Here The Who record "Pictures Of Lily" in early '67. Raise your glass and enjoy, dear boy.

KEITH MOON HONOURED

Sunday 8th March 2009 saw the unveiling of a blue heritage plaque in honour of Keith Moon at the site of the original Marquee Club in Wardour Street, now sadly passing itself off as “Soho Lofts”, i.e. a few tatty flats.

Was a good turnout, maybe 200 people with about 25 scooters parked down the road. Lots of Moon family and friends (they were distinguished by their attire – all suited and booted like a wedding party – as they were off to a reception luncheon afterwards at the Grosvenor), a scrum of photographers, a gaggle of geriatric mods albeit those of the patched parka/targets and arrows/lights and mirrors variety, and the curious passersby. “Is Keith Moon unveiling a plaque?” asked one. “Bit late mate”.

Mike Read, he off Pop Quiz not the dead one off Runaround , started the speeches by remarking how wonderful it was to see such a line of scooters “like the seafront of Bognor”. Ah yes, Bognor, iconic scene of a beach fight. But my toe curling became foot breaking when he launched into a chorus of “We are the mods, we are mods, we are, we are, we are the mods”. Even the Jurassic Parkas squirmed in their union jack socks. Roger Daltrey, standing nearby, chirped in with “we never sang that” in a desperate attempt to distance himself from such arse clenching embarrassment . Although to be fair to the Toryboy Cliffalike he did, I assume, have a hand in getting Moon recognised by the Heritage Foundation (he has something to do with it apparently) and Westminster City Council. The bulk of the credit though goes to Gary and Melissa Hurley who campaigned hard after originally being told “he not worthy”.

Daltrey, ever the affable geezer, said a few words (“Moon deserves many plaques”) but although he has spoken eloquently and emotionally many times about his pal, here he didn’t have much to say preferring to bring in Keith’s old mum, Kit. Kit, bless her, thanked everyone for making it possible and for turning up and said Keith was out there somewhere with us if we could find him. Was gently touching without being sentimental.

Then came the Mayor of Westminster who immediately made the hideous faux pas by saying she too was impressed by the sight of so many “motorbikes” which naturally enough was greeted with howls of derision all round. “I mean scooters. Scooters”. Too late you irritating bint. She also tried to curry favour by claiming she’d seen “these guys” play, but with no supplementary evidence offered I’d put that down to a glimpse on the Old Grey Whistle Test.

Finally, Roger, Kit and two of Keith’s sisters pulled the cord to reveal the plaque. Despite the collective wishes that something would go wrong so we could say “typical Moonie”, nothing did and it read “Keith Moon (1946-1978) Legendary Rock Drummer with The Who performed here at the site of the Marquee Club in the 1960s”. Hardly earth shattering but nice enough all the same.

Among the folk we spotted were Kenney Jones, Dougal Butler, Richard Barnes, Keith Altman, Garry fucking Bushell for christsakes, David Baddiel (although I didn’t recognise him), PJ Proby, Zak Starkey (who said he liked my shoes), and some young lad who was about sixteen and must’ve been Keith’s nephew as he looked an absolute ringer for him. Conspicuous by his absence, Mr Peter Townshend.

Starkey seemed like a pleasant, quiet chap and also attained kudos for being with the oi polloi rather than the fenced off great and good. Remember he was close to Keith as a nipper, and has now taken his drum stool in The Who, so must’ve been a strange day for him. Whilst talking, some gushing woman came over asking for his autograph, going “I think you’re as good a drummer as Keith Moon”. With an admirable blend of assertiveness and politeness (just avoiding you-stupid-cow) he looked up and said “that’s very kind, but I’m not”. End of. Wished we’d asked him about Keith teaching him to play the drums but the moment was lost.