The late, great Gary Moore’s long career stretched from his early days in late 60s Irish blues rockers Skid Row to stints with Thin Lizzy, jazz-rockers Colosseum and BBM alongside ex-Cream members Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker. Along the way, he crossed paths with everyone from Ozzy Osbourne and Led Zeppelin to members of The Beatles. In 2008, three years before his death, he looked back at some of his more memorable encounters with fellow musicians.
At the end of our interview, Gary Moore jokes: “There goes my book. I’ve told you everything.” But that’s very unlikely, as his career has spanned almost 40 years since he picking up the guitar while he was still at primary school. During that time Moore has shared stages with such luminaries as Phil Lynott, Jack Bruce, Ozzy Osbourne and… er, Jimmy Nail. He’s certainly got some stories to tell – here are just some of them.
George Harrison
I went to see The Beatles on my own in Belfast when I was 11. All the girls were screaming, and I was jumping up and down to see because I was so little. I remember watching them on TV on Sunday Night At The London Palladium because I wanted to learn the riff to Help!, but George did it all fucking wrong. Years and years later I moved to Henley-on-Thames. I was at Alvin Lee’s [Ten Years After] house and I met George for the first time. After that I started going to George’s house quite a lot. I was playing on Jimmy Nail’s album, and George invited me back to his to play on a Traveling Wilburys track She’s My Baby. I thought it was a demo, but I went to the States and it was all over the fucking radio.
George loved to wind people up. We were talking about Eric Clapton’s appearance on The South Bank Show, where I thought Eric was putting himself up with Jimi Hendrix and it pissed me off. George said: “Well, he was better than Jimi Hendrix. Jimi was just flash, wasn’t he?” We had a big row. Then we were talking about blues and he said: “BB King isn’t blues, he’s pop.” I said: “I’m fucking going home.” So I jumped in the car. And he came after me and we both said sorry. But he had to have the last word, saying: “Anyway, they’re all shit compared to Ravi Shankar.”
Phil Lynott
The first time I met Phil he was the singer in Skid Row, he didn’t play bass. The first night I joined he said: “I’ll show you around Dublin tomorrow.” And we had a great day. Then he took me to this restaurant and got me to order something he knew I wouldn’t like. Then he ate all my food and drank all my drinks. I thought, ‘So that’s how it’s going to be’. And that’s how it was from then on [laughs].
The thing I always say is that Phil would have probably been alright if he was around today in that condition, because it’s very trendy to be junkie or whatever – it almost adds to the mystique. In those days you couldn’t even ask for help, because the press would come down on you so hard. After he died they said terrible things about him and it was really sad. If he was here now he’d be down the Priory trying to pull all the models.
Albert King
I did a version of Oh Pretty Woman, which was one of his Stax label songs, and he wanted to play with me. I was really worried because there was a word on the song I couldn’t hear – it sounded like ‘She’s the rising sun’ but I knew it wasn’t fucking right – and I had this recurring nightmare that he was going to walk into the studio and spot it straight away. Which he did!
He walked in and said: “What have you got?” I said: “I’ve got a version of Oh Pretty Woman.” He said: “I wanna hear that!” He was really gruff with me. He had a big white suit on and sat there with his legs splayed apart, completely taking over, showing his authority over me. So we played the tape. And as soon as we got to the line, he jumped up and yelled: “Stop the tape! It’s ‘Sure is the one’.” I said: “I’m really sorry, Albert. I couldn’t hear it properly on the record.” He just turned round, looked at me and said: “But it’s on there.” And now every time we play he always corrects me, like some old headmaster.
One day he was in the studio control room and he was looking for his lighter, and suddenly there was this clattering on the floor. I looked down and there were bullets everywhere. I said: “What the fuck is that, Albert!” And he pulled out a card that said Deputy Sheriff of this county. He’d flown over on Concorde, and they let him on with a gun and bullets in his Flying V guitar case. He said: “If you’re ever down my way and get into trouble, here’s my card.”
Ozzy Osbourne
I was in New York one night and I bumped into Ozzy in a hotel and he invited me to dinner. So I went out with him, bassist Bob Daisley and Sharon. We’re sitting in this little restaurant, and Ozzy had this canary yellow jumpsuit on. He suddenly said: “Wait till you see this, Gary!” He got a pint glass, put it over his mouth and sucked it until he burst all the blood vessels around his face. Then he got loads of tissue paper and put it in behind his bottom lip and turned into Roddy McDowall’s character from Planet Of The Apes. One of the diners said: “Ozzy, can you sing Over The Mountain for us?” He said: “I’ll do it if you give me a drink.” You could hear him for miles. It’s one of the loudest voices I’ve heard.
When we were walking back to the hotel there were all these people coming out of the Carnegie Hotel. Ozzy lay down on the pavement – and Sharon was about six months pregnant at the time – and he starts pointing at her, screaming: “This fooking woman has given me Aids!” like a child. He just has to go too far.
Led Zeppelin
When I was 17 we were in Los Angeles and we were staying at this shit hotel. We were playing five nights at the Whiskey, and Led Zeppelin used to come in every night and watch us. We got talking to them and they said: “So where are you guys staying?” I said some shithole out of town. So they got us a big suite at the legendary Hyatt House and paid for everything. They were just the nicest guys and we had such a laugh with them. They had the most beautiful groupies.
One night we were in Roberts Plant’s room – he had this raised bed on a podium – and our drummer hypnotised him. He said: “You’re going to wake up in half an hour and feel really horny.” Robert crashed out next to this Oriental girl, and when he woke up he just grabbed her and ran into the bathroom with her.
I met Robert and Bonzo in London at The Speakeasy one night. John came home with me and slept on my floor. I had a little bedsit in Belsize Park. I told all my mates: “John Bonham’s fucking sleeping on my floor, go and have a peek.” He disappeared in the morning – the Mothership had taken him away.
Jack Bruce & Ginger Baker
The media perception at the time [1994] was that they tried to get Cream together but Eric Clapton wouldn’t do it so they got me. That wasn’t the case – I actually formed the band [BBM]. I really enjoyed it.
By the time I worked with Ginger he wasn’t so fiery: he used to smoke spliff all day to keep himself even. He’d have nothing to do with me or Jack Bruce at all. He’d go to his room after the show, while me and Jack would go out and get pissed and have a laugh. Ginger just thought we were idiots.
Jack was great. He was like my big brother. We had fights because everyone in the group had their own bands. That was the problem.
Keith Richards
I was at a party and Keith Richards was stood next to me and he gave me a joint. He watched me smoke a bit and then he came back and goes: “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I’ve got leprosy!”
Peter Green
Peter Green was very special to me. He replaced Eric Clapton in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. I went to see them in Belfast, and I never heard a guitar sound like that in my life.
Later on I was in a band called Skid Row and we were opening for Fleetwood Mac [which Green founded] and Peter asked the promoter to bring me backstage to meet him. I was really shitting myself. And he said: “I really like your playing, man. What are you doing later.” I told him I had to do another show, so I couldn’t even watch him play. In the end I went back to his hotel and we stayed up half the night playing guitar and talking. We became friends, and he gave me and the band our first big break.
He told everybody I was the most exciting guitarist he’d seen since Hendrix. I was walking on air for weeks.
Years later I’d had his Les Paul for a long time and I did an album of all his music called Blues For Greeny. I had this idea for the cover where I would take the guitar and go and meet him and take a picture where we both have our hands on it. So we met, and he was a bit spaced out, and he picked up the Les Paul and said: “Aw, I sold mine.” I said: “That is yours.” He goes: “No, it’s too old.” I said: “I bought it a long time ago, Peter.” He said: “Yeah, it does look like mine,” and he played a chord and said: “Success!” He had totally forgotten that he had sold it to me.
Rory Gallagher
I met Rory Gallagher when he came to Belfast. I was only 14 and he was a few years older. He kind of took me under his wing. He was a really kind and honest guy.
I met him not long before he died. He was living in the Conrad Hotel at Chelsea Harbour for about a year-and-a-half. I saw him in the bar one night and he was drinking pints of Baileys. I went to his room for drinks and food and he showed me all his guitars. I played him the BBM album with Jack and Ginger and he was saying how he liked it. We had a lovely night. I left him, gave him a big hug and said: “I love you, man.” And that was the last time I ever saw him. It’s really sad. But I was glad I had that bit of time with him.
Originally published in Classic Rock magazine issue 127, December 2008
