Read Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon Online
Authors: Pamela Des Barres
Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon (33 page)
BOOK: Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon
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The Who’s appearance on the Smothers Brothers’ TV show was rebel rock at its finest: Between rehearsal and tape time, Keith hurtled around, giving stagehands a bit of cash and a swig out of his brandy flask, charming them into putting ten times the usual dose of gunpowder into his drum kit. As Pete went into the final windmill whip at the end of “My Generation,” Keith set off his drums and the blast sent him flying off the riser, a razor chunk of cymbal slicing
into his arm. Pete’s hair caught on fire and his left ear took the brunt of the blast, which probably contributed immensely to his future hearing problems. When Tommy Smothers walked onstage wearing an acoustic guitar around his neck, despite being half-dazed Pete seized the moment, yanked away Tommy’s guitar, smashed it to the ground, and put his foot through it. Backstage, Bette Davis fainted into Mickey Rooney’s arms.
into his arm. Pete’s hair caught on fire and his left ear took the brunt of the blast, which probably contributed immensely to his future hearing problems. When Tommy Smothers walked onstage wearing an acoustic guitar around his neck, despite being half-dazed Pete seized the moment, yanked away Tommy’s guitar, smashed it to the ground, and put his foot through it. Backstage, Bette Davis fainted into Mickey Rooney’s arms.
Rolling Stone
named the Who as rock-and-roll group of 1967. “I Can See for Miles” was a Top Ten hit in England and the United States, but Pete Townshend was restless. After reading books on Indian avatar Meher Baba, Pete became an outspoken, devoted disciple. He stopped taking drugs and began to write for the Indian master the music that became his masterwork, the rock opera
Tommy
.
named the Who as rock-and-roll group of 1967. “I Can See for Miles” was a Top Ten hit in England and the United States, but Pete Townshend was restless. After reading books on Indian avatar Meher Baba, Pete became an outspoken, devoted disciple. He stopped taking drugs and began to write for the Indian master the music that became his masterwork, the rock opera
Tommy
.
The road always beckoned and Keith got bored easily, but blessed with an ingenious, devilish imagination, he battled to keep the boredom at bay. And of course he had his image to uphold! Sleep never came easy for Mr. Moon: Once he spent hours nailing hotel-room furniture to the ceiling exactly as it had been on the floor. He would take the screws out of cabinets and put them back together so they seemed untouched; drag furniture outside, piece by piece, leaving his room all but empty; dump catsup in the tub along with plastic arms and legs to shock the maids; toss priceless antiques into the fireplace with a lit cigarette; hurl endless TV sets out of plate-glass windows; literally swing on sparkling chandeliers until they crashed down all around him. What else was a poor boy to do with all that pumping adrenaline? After being cheered by thousands? After ruling the world for two hours? After popping half a dozen multicolored pills and downing a full bottle of Courvoisier? The after-gig anticlimax must have hurt like dull arrows, and Keith dealt with it the best way he knew how. “Things get broken,” he said. “If you’re sitting around after a show and there’s something you don’t like, you just switch it off by throwing a bottle through the screen.”
Thrashing and bashing—altering rock drumming forever. (MICHAEL OCHS ARCHIVES/VENICE, CALIF.)
The
Tommy
album came out in May 1969 and everything changed for the Who. They went from being a solid kick-ass rock band to a theatrical pop event that was not to be missed. Touring with
Tommy
all through 1969 and 1970 (including a blistering set at Woodstock), the Who brought the deaf, dumb, and blind boy to a huge international audience, turning the world on to bright possibilities. By the end of 1970 the Who were finally millionaires.
Tommy
album came out in May 1969 and everything changed for the Who. They went from being a solid kick-ass rock band to a theatrical pop event that was not to be missed. Touring with
Tommy
all through 1969 and 1970 (including a blistering set at Woodstock), the Who brought the deaf, dumb, and blind boy to a huge international audience, turning the world on to bright possibilities. By the end of 1970 the Who were finally millionaires.
Except for Mr. Moon. He spent his money quicker than it came in. Along with a new pyramid-shaped home, Keith bought himself his very own pub, as well as many, many cars that he was fond of totaling. He lived his life as if he was always on the road, becoming British tabloid fodder as “Moon the Loon,” stalling his hovercraft on the train tracks, which delayed British Rail for a day, dressing up in full Nazi regalia, or stepping out stark, raving nude. He was proud of how many chemicals and vats of liquor he could get down, and more than once he was rushed to the hospital for a stomach pumping. He would bring strange women home with him, so of course his marriage was always in deep trouble. Despite his obvious love for Kim and Mandy, he was out of control and couldn’t seem to help himself. His wit was matchless, and though he could make everyone around him double up with laughing fits, he was a sad, sad fellow.
On January 4, 1970, things got worse for Mr. Moon. An incident took place that resulted in the death of his driver/minder, Neil Boland, coloring the rest of Keith’s life very dark indeed. My dear old friend “Legs” Larry Smith, of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, was with Keith that night. “Keith and I had gone to quite a large pub and discotheque in North London, in the suburbs, really,” Larry recalled. “Not particularly wonderful, but Keith always accepted invitations. It was about half past ten and this place was going to close about eleven, and things started to get a bit crazy. Keith was looping about with the boys, but I had an odd sense of the evening. I felt we should get the hell out and beat the closing time, but Keith said, ‘No, no, no, dear boy, I’m going to have another dance,’ and waltzed out into the crowd again.” Larry got the keys and waited for Keith in the backseat.
“Ten minutes later Keith and eight thousand people came tumbling out of the pub,” Larry continued, “the driver Neil behind him, and suddenly all the rabble realized that they were going to have to wait in a bus queue for twenty minutes and we were going to go gliding in the comfort of a pink Rolls-Royce! They snapped, started emptying their pockets, and we were being rained upon by small change! Because Neil was so proud of the Rolls, he got out and started to run at them, which was even crazier. Neil had put the car in drive, and it was crawling forward. Suddenly we found ourselves rolling toward the main road with no one driving the damn thing! Keith slid over to the driver’s seat, not being able to drive, of course—Keith couldn’t do things like that. At this point people had surrounded the car and were raining down fists, kicking, smashing the windows. Neil was out having a bash with them. I leaned up over the backseat, put my arms over Keith, and started to steer. People were screaming, getting hysterical. When we turned onto the main street, Neil was running alongside the car, still fending off these attackers, and he must have tripped and fallen under the car, so we actually must have rolled over Neil. The car rolled on and on, and Keith finally stopped it somehow. We
didn’t feel anything, we were carrying right on, we didn’t know that Neil’s body must have been in the middle of the road. The police came, the reporters came, we were holed up in Keith’s house for two weeks not answering the phone.”
didn’t feel anything, we were carrying right on, we didn’t know that Neil’s body must have been in the middle of the road. The police came, the reporters came, we were holed up in Keith’s house for two weeks not answering the phone.”
Larry tells me that Neil was more than Keith’s driver. “We were mortified because Neil was family. He was a soft, lovable Irishman who picked up the pieces of our excesses very well. It’s an art form in itself.” It seems Keith, Larry, and Neil pulled a few pranks together. Once Larry walked into a large department store asking for a pair of “strong work trousers,” which the salesman supplied. “I took the trousers and started pulling the legs apart. ‘How can I be sure these are strong work trousers?’ I ask the salesman, who’s starting to flinch. At that point Keith Moon comes into the store and says, ‘Good morning! I’m happy to test those trousers!‘” The two madmen proceeded to pull the trousers in half while the shocked salespeople looked on. “We hadn’t paid for these trousers,” Larry laughed. “The assistant got the union representative. We were just about to be arrested and dear Neil walks in and says, ‘I’ll pay for those trousers!’ All eyes were suddenly turned on Neil—a total stranger offering to pay for a pair of ripped trousers! I said, ‘Can, I have two bags please? One for each leg?’ We did the same thing in a Mothercare shop. We ripped a baby’s little fluffy jumper in half and the sales assistant just wept.” Larry had one more little story to tell me: “Keith had a microphone and two speakers built into the front of his car, and we drove around this little seaside town making terrifying announcements: ‘This is the Plymouth Police Department, this is an official message. There is a large tidal wave approaching Plymouth Beach. Would you please evacuate the beach, but stay in your shoes. Repeat, stay in your shoes.’ We were in the back of the Rolls with a fucking microphone. How we were not arrested that day, I do not know.”
Though he was cleared of all charges, after the death of Neil Boland, Keith had even more trouble sleeping. In Los Angeles with me one long, tortuous night, he woke up a dozen times, screaming that he was a murderer and didn’t deserve to live. Each time he would douse his grief with copious capsules and gnash his way back to temporary oblivion. Only his drums and his sense of humor kept him going. We were staying at the Century Plaza Hotel because the notorious Mr. Moon had been expelled from almost
all
of the L.A. hotels, and he had come up with yet another way to keep himself amused (he always felt an obligation to keep
everybody
entertained). As I stood watching from the balcony, Keith appeared down below, pouring a giant box of powdered soap into the hotel fountain. He soon joined me on the balcony and together we watched the chaotic froth wreak bubbling havoc as great clumps of suds foamed down the street.
all
of the L.A. hotels, and he had come up with yet another way to keep himself amused (he always felt an obligation to keep
everybody
entertained). As I stood watching from the balcony, Keith appeared down below, pouring a giant box of powdered soap into the hotel fountain. He soon joined me on the balcony and together we watched the chaotic froth wreak bubbling havoc as great clumps of suds foamed down the street.
He was a man of innumerable accents and personalities that he would switch at will whenever evil boredom struck. Even during sexcapades he
would turn from a fumbling virgin boy to a dastardly rapist within the space of a few moments. He dressed in the finest costumes and disguises money could purchase, drank deeply from hundred-year-old bottles of cognac, and was never satisfied. Meanwhile the great Who beast rolled along—
Live at Leeds, Who’s Next, Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy
—tour after tour after tour.
would turn from a fumbling virgin boy to a dastardly rapist within the space of a few moments. He dressed in the finest costumes and disguises money could purchase, drank deeply from hundred-year-old bottles of cognac, and was never satisfied. Meanwhile the great Who beast rolled along—
Live at Leeds, Who’s Next, Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy
—tour after tour after tour.
Keith continued to demolish his marriage, wreck cars, strip naked in pubs and bars in various countries, and drown himself in cognac, seemingly imperishable. He did a couple of blazing star turns in the David Essex movies
That’ll Be the Day
and
Stardust,
but nothing seemed to quell the fact that he was lonely and mad. When
Quadrophenia
was released in October 1973, Kim took Mandy and moved out for good. “We led separate lives under the same roof,” she told a journalist. “He’ll get up in the morning and decide to be Hitler for a day, and he is Hitler.” Keith took the loss like a swift kick to the heart. Even his playing suffered. He never got over it.
That’ll Be the Day
and
Stardust,
but nothing seemed to quell the fact that he was lonely and mad. When
Quadrophenia
was released in October 1973, Kim took Mandy and moved out for good. “We led separate lives under the same roof,” she told a journalist. “He’ll get up in the morning and decide to be Hitler for a day, and he is Hitler.” Keith took the loss like a swift kick to the heart. Even his playing suffered. He never got over it.
During a tragic U.S. tour in late 1973, in which the band often came to blows, Keith collapsed onstage and, as he was carried off, Pete announced to the audience, “We’re going to try to revive our drummer by punching him in the stomach and giving him a custard enema.” It wouldn’t have helped. Keith had ingested too much PCP (an animal tranquilizer) and was taken to the hospital. When the tour got to Montreal, the band and their crew ruined a Bonaventure hotel room so thoroughly (actually ripping out the floor) that sixteen people, including the Who, wound up spending the night in jail.
Keith was so pissed off that his Uncle Ernie role in
Tommy
had been trimmed that he refused to play on the movie soundtrack, instead taking off for Malibu to drown his sorrows in the sunshine. In March 1975 he released
Two Sides of the Moon,
a typical sun ‘n’ surf tribute—the album’s single, a schmaltzy “Don’t Worry Baby,” didn’t set the charts on fire.
Tommy
had been trimmed that he refused to play on the movie soundtrack, instead taking off for Malibu to drown his sorrows in the sunshine. In March 1975 he released
Two Sides of the Moon,
a typical sun ‘n’ surf tribute—the album’s single, a schmaltzy “Don’t Worry Baby,” didn’t set the charts on fire.
Though he was getting a good suntan, Keith was a very sick man, addicted to his precious cognac and Hollywood’s drug of choice, cocaine. He teetered around town with Harry Nilsson and Ringo Starr, pretending to be having a ball. When the Who toured again, Keith once more spent time in jail for kicking a British Airlines ticket terminal to pieces, and he collapsed onstage in Boston. He had a very close call at the Navarro Hotel in Manhattan—he kicked in an offensive painting and cut his foot so badly that if the Who’s manager Bill Curbishly hadn’t found him, Keith would have bled to death.
Back in Malibu on a break from touring, Keith had a bit of a problem with his neighbor, Steve McQueen. A very private and quiet movie star, McQueen was distraught about the noise and chaos that the Who’s drummer brought to Malibu Colony. He had zero appreciation for one of Britain’s finest rock eccentrics, and the police were called on several occasions. Keith harassed and bugged McQueen until the actor was forced to build a fence between the properties.
The rest of the band thought about getting rid of the ever-troubled drummer but ultimately decided against it. As John Entwistle said, “What would Keith Moon do without the Who?” As the tour dragged on to Miami, Keith’s s boredom after two days off culminated in another arrest. He walked through the hotel halls with the Who’s music shrieking from a tape recorder, and when told by an assistant manager to “stop making so much noise,” Keith turned down the volume, dragged the manager back to his room, loudly trashed it, invited the manager to observe the mess, saying,
“That
was noise,” then, turning the music back up,
“This
is THE WHO!!!” Curbishly bailed Keith out of jail and promptly checked him into the hospital for “psychiatric evaluation.” He was out in three days.
“That
was noise,” then, turning the music back up,
“This
is THE WHO!!!” Curbishly bailed Keith out of jail and promptly checked him into the hospital for “psychiatric evaluation.” He was out in three days.
In Los Angeles Keith was seeing a lovely blonde, Annette Walter-Lax, but still hadn’t gotten over the loss of his family. He was paranoid about losing his position in the Who, and his drinking and drugging were finally starting to show. He had a potbelly, his once wiry body was soft and puffy, his big eyes were constantly bloodshot. Pete Townshend was writing new Who material but the band was afraid to take Keith on another tour.
BOOK: Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon
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