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When I moved to London from California back in 1974, I didn’t really have a clue what the future held for me. I just knew I wanted to get outta there, get my life in order and join a band, hopefully with my then brother-in-law, Bob C. Benberg.
Well, it didn’t turn out that way, but what did arrive, just before I was due to head back to the States, was an offer to come to an audition for a band called Thin Lizzy, and I had never heard of them. But I loved their music, and teamed up with Brian Robertson for what would be a crazy, crazy rock’n’roll ride.
In the years that followed, we trailblazed around the world, hardly stopping for breath. The downside was that Phil and I became involved with heavy drugs. We were big buddies and would do everything together, so it was a shock to him when one day, I decided that I couldn’t continue with the drugs any more, and realised that the only way out was to quit the band. Phil was devastated, and continued touring for another two years.
But it was something I had to do for my own sanity, my health and the wellbeing of my family.
But I missed my buddy, and when I returned from Los Angeles having kicked the habit, I checked him out and we talked about the past and the future, maybe getting the band back together. But, man, he looked terrible.
A couple of weeks later, we got the phone call that he was in hospital and then passed away. I was distraught. How could this happen? My best friend had died.
Since then, along with the Thin Lizzy Trust, I have managed to gain some control of our legacy, hence the remixes and the tours we have undertaken since 1996. It’s a legacy worth protecting, and now a whole new generation knows what Thin Lizzy, and particularly the music, was all about.
Harry Doherty has collaborated with me on this book. He is the man to tell the story. He has been writing about the band ever since I joined and has stayed faithful ever since.
Scott Gorham and Harry Doherty thank the following for their contributions in making this book happen: All members of Thin Lizzy past and present, Caroline Taraskevics, formerly Lynott and Family, Christine Gorham, Philomena Lynott, The Thin Lizzy road crew, Frank Murray, Chris O’Donnell, Chris Morrison, Adam Parsons, Linda Lambrusco & ICW Media, Heather Doherty, Chalkie Davies, Peter Nielsen, Scott Rowley & Classic Rock magazine.
This Thin Lizzy book has come through an awfully long gestation period. Back in 1977, Phil Lynott asked me to write the book of the band’s story. Interviews were conducted in Toronto where I spent a month with the band while they recorded Bad Reputation. After that, it was delayed as we tried to continuously update it during the subsequent albums, but Phil would never come clean about his increasing drug use. In fact, he looked me in the eye once and said: “Harry, I don’t take drugs any more.”
During the period, they continued to prove that they were one of the most potent rock bands in the world, growing from humble roots in Dublin with a few early albums that verged on folk-rock, and then recording the innovative Vagabonds Of The Western World with its orchestral guitars, fine songs and arrangements, and, of course, Lynott’s unique voice.
But it was after the band lost, first, Eric Bell, and briefly afterwards, Gary Moore, that they really came into their own, in what has been called The Golden Era of Thin Lizzy. With two new guitarists, Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson, they set upon an unprecedented series of albums and touring, culminating in what has been voted the Best Live Album of all time, Live And Dangerous.
Then, of course, the guitar curse struck again, Robertson out/Moore back in/Moore out/Robertson back in/Robertson out/Moore back in, until they settled on blues maestro Snowy White, who had cut his teeth touring with Pink Floyd. White quit after two albums when he grew tired of the drug use by Lynott and Gorham, leaving the door open for another young guitarist to enter. John Sykes was known primarily as a heavy metal player, and he brought that to one album, Thunder And Lightning.
But the end was nigh, and when it came, it really crashed down, tragically. After Phil died, I finished a first draft of the book, on the proviso that I would be able to tell the whole story, and if any one person from the band or their families objected, I wouldn’t publish it. It was all very dark and too close to Phil’s death. A few insiders flinched at the “warts and all” detail, including Scott Gorham and his wife, Christine, and the singer’s mother, Philomena.
Scott and I have been determined that the full story would be told, with fantastic photography to give all the flavours of the best live band in the world, which is pretty evident here. So at last we have the full story, the tale of a band that never knew when to stop and what to stop. This is Thin Lizzy, from beginning to end, with a hint of what the future holds.
Drums:
Born in Dublin, Ireland (January 27, 1951), has been with Thin Lizzy for the entire history of the band and as a drummer, the true rock. Recorded and toured with Gary Moore’s band following Phil Lynott’s death.
Lead guitar:
Born in Glendale, California, USA (March 17, 1951). Started playing bass guitar at the age of 13. Recorded three albums with his own band, 21 Guns, following recovery from drug addiction and the split of Thin Lizzy.
Bass guitar/vocals:
Born in West Bromwich, England (August 20, 1949 – died January 4, 1986). His father, Cecil Parris (born in British Guyana), was not part of his life, and the young Lynott returned to Dublin as a four year old to live with his grandmother, Sarah, while his mother Philomena worked in Manchester. He never left, except with Thin Lizzy. As a young artist, he was also a poet (publishing two books). After a colourful and successful career, he succumbed to a life of drug dependency when he died in Salisbury Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit.
Lead guitar:
Born in Belfast, Ireland (September 3, 1947). An accomplished and creative guitarist, he was instrumental in the Lizzy sound, creating the legendary riff on ‘Whisky In The Jar’ before dramatically quitting during a gig in his home town. Went on to form his own band, then teamed up with former Jimi Hendrix bassist Noel Redding. Has continued to perform with his own band throughout the nineties and the noughties.
Lead guitar:
Born in Belfast, Ireland (April 4, 1952 – DIED
February 6, 2011). A true guitar hero and virtuoso, influenced by Peter Green, he played with Dublin band Skid Row, several spells in Thin Lizzy, his own band, jazz rock group Colosseum II, and recorded and shared the stage with many other rock luminaries, including George Harrison and Tom Petty. He was also guitarist on the South Bank Show theme, composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber. He went on to have a successful solo career, veering from hard rock to blues, which was always his first love.
Lead guitar:
Born in Clarkston, Renfrewshire, Scotland (February 12, 1956). After studying cello and piano for eight years, he switched to guitar and dabbled with drums. Played in gigs locally with the Dream Police (which later evolved into the Average White Band). With Downey, Gorham and Lynott, was part of the Thin Lizzy “Golden Era”. Always known for a short temper, he eventually left Lizzy after a series of spats had affected the band’s future. He went on to form Wild Horses with Jimmy Bain, with moderate success, and later joined Motörhead, recording Another Perfect Day. His style did not fit with them, and he left. Cutting his hair didn’t help win over diehard Motörhead fans. Since, he has recorded a solo album, Diamonds And Dirt, and played with a number of bands as guest. Still an extremely talented, if volatile, guitarist.
Lead guitar:
Born in Barnstable, Devon, England (March 3, 1948). Renowned English blues player, started playing at the age of 11. After playing guitar with Pink Floyd (as their first augmenting musician) and the legendary Peter Green, he joined Lizzy and brought his unique, understated style with him. When he left Lizzy, he became a solo artist, with an album, White Flames and hit single, ‘Bird Of Paradise’. From 1990, he has been part of Roger Waters’ touring band, while continuing to record his own albums. On one, Highway To The Sun, Gary Moore was a guest player.
Keyboards:
Born in Failsworth, Lancashire, England (December 25, 1962). Joined Thin Lizzy at the age of 17 when, following the temporary tenure of Midge Ure, the band decided to take on a keyboard player permanently. Post-Lizzy, he went on to form his own band, Dare, which had limited success, and they have since recorded seven albums.
Lead guitar:
Born in Reading, Berkshire, England (July 29, 1959). One of the bright stars from the New Wave of British Heavy Metal with his band, the Tygers of Pang Tang, in 1980, he brought a new heaviness to Thin Lizzy. Afterwards, his talent was spotted by David Coverdale, who invited him to join Whitesnake for four years from 1983. Sykes went on to record and tour with his own band, Blue Murder, and when that disbanded, he released a series of solo albums.
and …
Drums:
Born in Cortland, New York, USA (June 11, 1953). He played with Elf (Ronnie James Dio), the Ian Gillan Band and Gary Moore’s G-Force. Filled in for Brian Downey when he left the band briefly.
Guitar/keyboards:
Born in Cambuslang, Lanarkshire, Scotland (October 10, 1953). Emerged as a teenybop star with Slik in 1974, and went on to become one of the most fashionable icons in pop music. He played in the Rich Kids (with former Sex Pistol Glen Matlock), and was at the forefront of electronic pop with Visage and then took the frontman and writing role in Ultravox (when John Foxx left). He’s still perplexed why Thin Lizzy asked him to step in when Gary Moore suddenly quit the band. After the brief Lizzy period, Ure went on to a successful solo career, and played a key role in Live Aid, as an organiser and writer of ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ with Bob Geldof.
Lead guitar:
Born in Aberdeen, Scotland (June 2, 1951). Best known for his time with Manfred Mann’s Earth Band between 1975 and 1978. He is now an addictions counsellor in central Florida. Played on one brief Japanese tour with Lizzy as replacement for Gary Moore.
21st Century Thin Lizzy
Bass guitar:
Born in San Diego, USA (May 3, 1963). Formerly with John Sykes’ Blue Murder, and toured with Ted Nugent and Whitesnake. His first solo album, Live For Tomorrow, was released
Vocals/guitar:
Born in Newtownards, Ireland (July 11, 1966). Was rhythm guitarist in New Model Army before making his mark with the Almighty in 1988. Was recommended to Scott Gorham by Def Leppard’s Joe Elliott.
Lead guitar:
Born Macon, USA (July 13, 1964). Played and still plays with Brother Cane. He became a member of Alice Cooper’s touring band, before coming to the notice of Thin Lizzy. As a fan, he jumped at the chance of playing the Lizzy classics.
That night, as 1969 neared its end, the Dreams showband was playing at a Dublin ballroom. They weren’t due on stage until midnight, when the pubs shut, and their guitarist, Eric Bell, didn’t plan on hanging around a cold hall listening to an ageing support group perform diluted versions of chart hits. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the ballroom at all.
A flick through the Evening Press informed him that Skid Row were playing at a club down the road. He was interested; they had been building a fine reputation throughout Ireland. So, still decked out in his showband suit, Bell went to check them out for himself. He would normally visit the clubs when in Dublin with the Dreams. He felt much more at home there.
Skid Row, though, made more of an impression than any other band he’d seen in ages. More specifically, he would remember their lead singer: the tall, dark and wiry Phil Lynott, and when he returned to the ballroom he could barely concentrate on the showband’s set, switching to automatic pilot as his thoughts drifted back to the potential he had seen in Lynott. He would find it impossible to settle into the tedious showband routine again.
No wonder. Being in a showband was dull, predictable and no matter what the financial benefits might be, Bell missed the excitement and spontaneity of being in a rock band.
As far as the youth of Ireland was concerned, the showband circuit was the backbone of their social lives, the commercial alternative to the more esoteric values of traditional Irish music. There were hundreds of ballrooms dotted around the country, each with a capacity of at least 2,000, and they provided regular and lucrative employment for the vast army of showbands who travelled the circuit. “Ballroom”, actually, is too polite a word to describe most of the venues – they were usually large, barren halls with minimal facilities that assured maximum profit margins for the men who promoted the shows.
The showband philosophy was, to all intents and purposes, the Now That’s What I Call Music theory applied to live performance. Showbands regarded it as commercial suicide to play original material, so instead their sets bulged with hits and standards from the British charts.
Those showbands that didn’t play pop had their own Irish version of country ‘n’ western, which has always had a huge following in Ireland.
In fairness, it should also be noted that many of these bands were drilled to perfection and featured accomplished musicians who’d been pushed into the showband world because it offered financial security with occasional star trappings, and were unwilling to cope with the hardship and general disapproval meted out to young rock groups.
That’s how Eric Bell found himself in the Dreams. He had played with a blues group in Belfast called Shades Of Blue until he became disillusioned with the shortage of gigs – one every two weeks. He was certainly a professional, and had been since playing with Van Morrison a few years before in Belfast. But money was short.
One night the Movement, a Dublin group, were playing in Belfast with Shades Of Blue supporting, and were surprised to find that Eric Bell was the guitarist. The Movement’s singer, John Farrell, had been trying to get in touch with Bell to invite him to audition as guitarist for a showband he was forming. Eric travelled to Dublin, passed the test and thus found himself in the Dreams showband. For a year and a half he trekked round the country with the Dreams, playing the hits, but it tore his heart apart every time he came to Dublin and saw an exciting rock group.
“I’d be standing in these clubs, looking at the groups and thinking ‘What am I doing with myself? If I’m into music I have to get something like this together’,” he says.
When Bell handed in his notice to the showband, he had saved £200 from his earnings, and he estimated that this would take care of rent and food in Dublin for six weeks, the time limit he’d set to form his own group and find work, but desperation soon set in. He searched for bass players and drummers but nobody was interested, until he went to the Countdown Club where a group called Orphanage was playing. He remembered the singer from his visit to the Skid Row gig – it was Phil Lynott. He had already heard good reports about the drummer, Brian Downey.
Lynott himself had heard through the grapevine that Bell was keen to form a new band, but he played the game with typical cool. He had already sussed out Bell’s pedigree as a guitarist with Gary Moore, who had approved. “I had time for anybody Gary was rating as a lead guitarist,” he said.
Eric Wrixon, a keyboard player and another disaffected showband veteran who had once played with the original Them in Belfast, accompanied Bell to the Countdown. He offered Bell half an LSD tablet. It was Bell’s first acid trip, so when he stepped backstage during a break in Orphanage’s set to introduce himself to Lynott and Downey, his brain was a little disorientated.
Lynott, for his part, was impressed with Bell, but still not sure what Eric Wrixon was doing in the corner. After a couple of rehearsals, they decided to stay together to work as a band. All they needed was a name.
Initially, Bell provoked no response from Lynott, who was somewhat amused by this staggering stranger, but as time went on, he warmed to his overtures. Bell, however, had resigned himself to failure and was on his way out of the dressing room when Lynott, after consulting Downey, called him back and agreed to leave Orphanage to form a new group.
“Orphanage was starting to make money but it wasn’t going anywhere,” Lynott recalled. “I could see that it wasn’t going anywhere and I could understand why. It didn’t have that touch of flair and magic, the stuff that makes bands into something.” There was, however, one condition, to which Bell agreed: Lynott would play bass guitar in the new group.
While all this bargaining was going on, Eric Wrixon hung around silently in the background, assuming that he was to be a part of whatever was decided. Bell didn’t have the heart to break it to him that the new group was to be a three-piece, and as plans were made for the first rehearsal, Wrixon and his Farfisa were in on the deal.
A couple of days later, the four gathered at the appointed place for rehearsal, a grubby basement under the Band Centre, a musical instrument store owned by Brian Tuite, a local young businessman with an interest in the development of Dublin’s young rock bands. Skid Row often rehearsed there and Phil used his acquaintance with their leader, Brush Shiels, to borrow their equipment.
“For that first blow,” Bell clearly recollects, “Phil didn’t know what key he was in. He was just learning bass at the time. I sort of knew what I was up to and Brian Downey knew what he was doing.
Eric Wrixon was so used to playing in showbands that he had a very showband sort of feel. The first thing we blew on was a 12-bar blues. I knew immediately there was something there. I don’t know what it was, but the band seemed to have great jamming potential. It wouldn’t be just a loud jam. It would take direction all the time.”
Lynott, for his part, was impressed with Bell, but still not sure what Eric Wrixon was doing in the corner. After a couple of rehearsals, they decided to stay together to work as a band. All they needed was a name.
They set themselves up in a rented house in Castle Avenue in Dublin. “Initially it was only Philip and myself moved into the house,” Bell recalled, “Then the keyboard player, Eric Wrixon, moved in with us. Brian Downey lived with his parents but he was over every day. Then what started happening was everybody in Dublin heard about this house. The whole music scene heard about this house and what would happen. We would smoke dope and the record player would be on all day. We had a TV but I don’t think it was turned on once and we played records non-stop. The groups in Dublin would play gigs and then afterwards drive up to our flat at 2am after their show in a big mini bus. Then another mini bus would drive up behind that. Then a convoy of mini buses and all these musicians would get out of these mini buses. You’re probably talking 25 people and then they had girls with them and I’d come up and say hi to maybe about 10 girls and then the 25 musicians, me and Philip. Some nights there would be 35 people in this house. This is no exaggeration. We were rolling dope all night and having a laugh and mostly listening to music. Very funny memories.”
Finding a suitable name was a laborious task, harder than they could have imagined. First they went through songs. Nothing there. Then they looked at album titles. Still nothing. Then books. For a couple of minutes they thought about calling themselves Gulliver’s Travels, but dumped it. Then they went to comics, thumbing inquisitively through the Dandy and Beano. Bell stopped at one page and clocked the story of a robot called Tin Lizzie. He suggested it.
“Don’t be stupid,” was the response.
Ten minutes later, still without a name, they revised the suggestions already recorded. Tin Lizzie didn’t sound so bad second time around. After a bit of chat, they changed it to Thin Lizzy, principally to confound the people of Dublin, who would call them T’in Lizzy anyway. This affront to the local dialect gave Thin Lizzy their first publicity in local newspapers.
Thin Lizzy was born, to be for evermore misspelt and mispronounced.
With a name, they could get on with making music and establishing an identity. Bell had influenced Lynott’s decision to disband Orphanage and join him by emphasising that their policy would be to concentrate on original material, ie Lynott’s songs, and from the early rehearsals this was a priority. Compositions that Lynott had held close to his chest for years suddenly came out of the closet, and with them the realisation that he was a writer of enormous potential.
Bell was living in Manor Street, Dublin, when Lynott first came round with a tape of his songs, and he was impressed by every one of them. Among the songs were ‘Saga Of The Ageing Orphan’, ‘Diddy Levine’ and ‘Hotel’. He left the tape with Bell, and he immediately went to work on them.
“My guitar work and his songs completely gelled. I just seemed to have this affinity for them. He was a natural when it came to writing songs. He was always fussy about his lyrics.”
In Ireland, however, it was difficult to persuade local promoters that a band playing original songs could attract punters; hence the showband phenomenon. Even the rock groups that had formed as an alternative to the showband scene were forced to compromise their ideals, and so while the showbands would play the more predictable chart numbers, groups would pick and choose from their favourite English and American albums. Thin Lizzy were no different.
By this time, Lizzy had their first manager, a young man called Terry O’Neill, who had previously been a roadie for Skid Row. He was 17 and younger than any of the band members but enthusiastic enough to hassle promoters into giving them gigs, first one every fortnight and then a couple a week. They weren’t too hard to come by. Lynott and Downey had made their mark with Orphanage, Skid Row and Sugar Shack, while Bell and Wrixon were established showband players. That was sufficient to earn them bookings.
So Thin Lizzy made their live debut in humble surroundings a million miles away from Wembley Arena and the Los Angeles Forum, at Swords National School, Brackenstown, on February 16, 1970, supported by a band called Purple Pusscycats. They made an instant impression, or more to the point, Phil Lynott hogged the limelight, for at a time when Jimi Hendrix was ready for deification, here was a young pretender, throwing a couple of shapes and generally letting everybody in on the secret that he was a star.
It was obvious from the first gig that Thin Lizzy’s strength lay in live performance, for they were already provoking an unusually excitable reaction from audiences. Their early set was geared toward the individual tastes of band members. Brian Downey would insist on a couple of blues numbers. Phil Lynott suggested some songs by the Flying Burrito Brothers, Spirit and Hendrix. Eric Bell came up with Rolling Stones songs like ‘Street Fighting Man’. Eric Wrixon was just glad to be there. They also did a version of Roger Millar’s ‘Little Green Apples’ in their own inimitable style because Phil liked the song.
Gradually, Lynott’s songs were introduced to the set. First two of his originals were included in the 90-minute set and the band would subtly bolster it each week until half of the set consisted of their own songs. Audiences were soon asking for Lynott songs as well as the rock standards.
Despite the musical fulfilment, the band’s bank balance swayed perilously towards the red (a persistent issue, as this book will make clear), and Lynott and Bell had no doubt where the solution to the crisis lay. They would have to get rid of Eric Wrixon, whose position as keyboard player was growing more and more superfluous as time went by.
While Downey, Lynott and Bell would sweat their guts out earning encores, Wrixon played on the image, coolly propped up behind the organ, wearing a stetson, dragging on a joint and swigging a bottle of whiskey. All of this was costing Thin Lizzy money.
It was obvious from the first gig that Thin Lizzy’s strength lay in live performance, for they were already provoking an unusually excitable reaction from audiences.
Such was the financial stress, in fact, that the band was on the verge of splitting after only two months. To alleviate the monetary problem, Bell and Lynott toured the folk clubs of Dublin as an acoustic duo, playing places like the Pembroke and Slattery’s for £6 a night. Their repertoire would consist of a few of Lynott’s songs – which explains why some acoustic numbers would appear on the early Thin Lizzy albums – and a few Django Rheinhardt instrumentals.
Bell and Lynott were often invited to play at parties, and one of these included a spot at the house of Barney McKenna, of the Dubliners. But even with this extra income, they were determined that Wrixon would have to go. Terry O’Neill, as manager, was despatched to do the dirty work.
“Listen,” he told Wrixon. “The band will have to go three piece or it’s gonna break up and you must admit, it’s too good a band to break up.”
Wrixon looked at him, unmoved by the speech. “When do you want me to leave?” He had sussed the mood and caused no hassles. For his trouble, the band gave him a little money to live on.
As a three-piece, Thin Lizzy soon became hot stuff. At the time in Ireland, mid-1970, homespun trios were creating plenty of excitement. As well as Lizzy, there was Skid Row, now signed to CBS, and making waves on mainland Britain with Gary Moore hailed as a new guitar hero, and Taste, the band fronted by Ballyshannon-born Rory Gallagher, which was attracting packed houses up and down the country, and making a huge impression in the UK.
“Our ambition at the time was to get a reputation as a really good musical band,” Bell summarised. “It was basically a little band and that was it. Suddenly, we got rated as one of the brightest hopes everywhere. Places would be jammed to see three guys on a stage. It was around then that we started to realise that something was happening.”
Although things were going well, Terry O’Neill found his job as manager increasingly difficult and the band reluctantly looked around for a new mentor. Brian Tuite, previously the manager of Skid Row, stepped in to fill the vacancy and inject some badly needed money.O’Neill was paid £200 for his trouble and effort. Tuite enlisted the help of a successful showband promoter with a bit of financial clout.
Phil had so much charisma. You could just see it as they played. The potential was enormous.
Despite their popularity at home, Thin Lizzy were unable to secure a record deal, and it was by pure fluke that they eventually ended up with one. Frank Rogers, of Decca Records, had arranged to come over to Dublin to check out a singer called Ditch Cassidy. Cassidy, however, had no band and Brian Tuite, who knew Rogers, arranged for Lizzy to back him at the audition. The venue was a nightclub called Zhivago’s, where Lizzy were due to play that night.
“Brian called me and said he had this singer Ditch Cassidy who he thought was as good as Joe Cocker and he wanted me to come and see him,” Rogers recalled. “So I was going to Northern Ireland anyway looking at some other acts. I arranged for Brian to come pick us up and take us to Dublin to see Ditch. They played in a nightclub one afternoon for us … But it was the three-piece band behind them that I was watching rather than Ditch Cassidy. I was watching this bass player. So when Ditch finished his audition I asked Brian what were the backing band called? He said he also managed them and they were called Thin Lizzy. To this day I don’t know whether he set me up or not … whether I was there to see Ditch Cassidy or there to see Thin Lizzy. He never owned up as to whether it was one or the other. I think it was the band he wanted me to see.”
Cassidy sang, Lizzy backed … and Frank Rogers listened. Afterwards the band sat around waiting to do their own set in the club when Tuite came up and told them that the man from Decca was interested in making a Thin Lizzy album. Ditch Cassidy wasn’t mentioned. “They were really tight for a start and they were very good,” says Rogers. “Phil, being the lead singer, tall, huge afro and black … a black Irishman. I’d never seen one before. He had so much charisma. You could just see it as they played. The potential was enormous.
“I knew I had to sign them because I could see the potential. Because of Phil. Everything could be hung around Phil. He was the eye candy if you want to put it that way. They all talk about the X-factor now and something special. He had it. It’s very hard to define what it is but when you look at someone … I think fans see it when they see bands on stage or hear records they know are special. To get it that early on is important and I knew I could sell them to the company, that I had something that was going to make the company money.”
There were a few downsides as well, Rogers felt. “They didn’t have a lot going for them. They were living in Ireland for a start. They had an Irish manager. They would have to come to England and the deal with Brian was the contract would be offered as long as they would come and work and live in England. There was no point in us signing a band who were going to stay in Ireland. It was no good to us. Any record sales wouldn’t cover their boat fare. I knew it was going to be difficult but I knew if I had the right set-up around them and got the company on my side we had a potential winner in them.”
And so, in November 1970, Thin Lizzy signed to Decca Records on a three-album/three-year deal. Suddenly there was talk of boats, hotels and recording studios. Thin Lizzy would be on their way to England within a month.
They sailed from Dún Laoghaire to England, six of them, to conquer the rock world in the name of Ireland. Thin Lizzy, and their trusty Ford Transit.
The Transit slipped off the M1 into London and onto the North Circular Road. So this was the Smoke they’d heard so much about. Christ, it was noisy. “Jesus, they must all be rich over here. Never seen so many Rolls Royces in me life,” Lynott mused.
Eventually, they found their digs in Sussex Gardens, near Paddington Station, and kept themselves to themselves until it was time to come out and play.
“They were very nervous,” one acquaintance recalled. “They knew that it was a big step to take from Ireland. They realised that it was easy enough to be a big fish in a small pool, but that coming over to England was a whole different thing.”
We were really in awe of England,” Lynott confirmed. “We were so scared because England was the place that had produced all these great groups, our heroes. We believed every word we had read in the media. We were bloody petrified.”
Lynott was certainly intimidated by his new metropolitan surroundings. It seemed that all the traditional Irish insecurities in an alien environment were rushing to the surface. He was not the most outgoing personality offstage (and never would be) and in these foreign surroundings, this characteristic came to the fore. Generally, the entire Thin Lizzy party became totally introverted, anxious to knuckle down to the job of recording their first album and get home, but even in the studio there were enigmatic problems to overcome.
The first Thin Lizzy album, they discovered, was to be recorded at the Decca Studios in West Hampstead where, as Eric Bell so eloquently put it, “all the heads had recorded”. The Bluesbreakers, John Mayall’s group that featured Eric Clapton and, later, Peter Green, had recorded there, and these albums were seminal influences on Lizzy.
They had been given a week by Decca to record the album, so it was just as well that they had rehearsed their material thoroughly in Dublin before setting out on this adventure. American producer Scott English had been hired to take care of the album. English had a reputation of his own to nurture. As a writer, he had scored well with ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’ for Jeff Beck and ‘Bend Me Shape Me’ for Amen Corner and in his own right he’d reached number 12 in the UK charts with ‘Brandy’.