Biz And Tell

I reckon it d be fairly safe to say that I m not alone in loving a good, salacious read about the offstage antics of rock n roll stars. Even the most ostensibly squeaky-clean acts have indulged in demented depravity behind closed doors (the classic example being the sordid saga of The Beach Boys, as finally revealed in Steven Gaines essential biography Heroes And Villains), yet for years the public remained blissfully unaware of such goings-on through the sterling efforts of unsung spin doctors and press agents. So, when one of the most experienced smokescreen specialists in pop history decides to address his former clients in a frank manner, it s definitely time to start rubbing those palms together.
For more than 35 years Keith Altham had access to the inner circle of the UK s rock n roll hierarchy. A music journalist for the best part of a decade, Altham laid down his poacher s pen in 1969 and for the next quarter-century used gamekeeper s guile to guide the public s perception of a jaw-dropping roster of artists.
The Who, The Kinks, Stones, Small Faces, Rod Stewart, Van Morrison, Scott Walker, Slade and Sting are just some of the acts who ve been on his books and all appear in No More Mr Nice Guy, a memoir which takes the unusual form of a series of open letters to former clients.
The original idea was prompted by Pete Townshend some time ago, explains Keith. When The Who broke up they had to lay off a lot of people simply because the band wasn t working, including their publicist of 18 years. So I sent them all a letter which was tongue-in-cheek and fairly affectionate. It was a case of Right, you bastards, after nearly two decades of being your lackey I can now tell you what I really think of you! They liked it, found it quite amusing and Pete said to me Look, this is a very good idea for a book, why don t you do this to all your ex-clients? I couldn t really do that when I was still in the business because I still had some professional responsibility to these guys, but I said I d bear it in mind for when I gave up. Well, I ve given it up for five years now, so I can be slightly more detached and objective about it.
The main object of the exercise was to raise a grin more than anything else, particularly for those people who ve encountered some of these acts. I thought it would give an interesting insight as to what these artists are like as people.
Crammed with anecdotes, No More Mr Nice Guy is a toilet-book par excellence (despite an irritating number of proof-reading errors) although it stops some way short of dishing the complete dirt, which some may find initially disappointing given that Altham not only knows damn well where all the bodies are buried but led the shovel detail for numerous interments. So, did he hold back from letting rip completely?
I tried to write this book, not in the spirit of exposi, salaciousness or maliciousness although some might claim it s sour grapes but more as an exercise in frustration, of getting things off my chest and kinda poking a stick at one or two people to say How about putting something back in after all you ve taken out? I m a great believer in the fact that once you get to a certain level, how much more money do you want? That s my main problem with The Stones, Rod Stewart and The Kinks. They could be doing a lot more for people given the position they re in. A few do, like Sting and Townshend, but there are far more who don t bother at all and that irritates me.
A great deal of Altham s book is undeniably affectionate the missives to Sting, Townshend, Noddy Holder, Eric Burdon and Eddy Grant, for example but when he gets the bit between his teeth it does make for a far more savage read. The section on Van Morrison is a study in sheer exasperation ( Dear Van, What can I say? What a talent. What a singer. What a songwriter. What a pain in the arse. ), but if it s bile you re after, then head directly to the chapters devoted to Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart. Machiavellian manipulation and pathological stinginess appear to be the respective traits of the latter pair, and as both parties are somewhat litigious by nature I wonder if Keith has heard any sinister rumblings from their camps.
Nah, an ominous silence I think you d call it! he laughs. It s been fairly quiet from the Van Morrison direction too, but, as I say in the book, I think the guy s a genius. I love his work but . . . Christ, what a nightmare!
Rod Stewart, however, is a different story entirely.
I only had Rod for six months, says Keith, and it was quite long enough. I thought twice about taking him on because I knew about his tightwad reputation previously Ronnie Wood described him as tighter than two coats of paint which is an understatement and lots of my friends advised me against it.
Personally, I blame my old friend Jeff Beck for the entire episode. I d been doing PR for the ARMS tour a multiple sclerosis charity set up by the late Ronnie Lane with Beck and Clapton on board when Jeff told me he was heading off on tour with Rod. I thought Jesus, you ll never survive , but he was giving it Nah, it ll be great. I m doing the support gig, then I m playing with Rod, it s gonna be fantastic , so I bet him #100 he wouldn t get through the first dozen gigs.
Rod s people took me on just before the tour started and I remember flying a few journalists out to Philadelphia to review a gig about a week into the dates. I went backstage to look for Jeff and started passing various dressing rooms. Rod s looked like it was decorated for a Sultan wall-to-wall flowers, optics, champagne, food, carpets and a vaporiser the one next door was labelled The Band , had fewer optics, no flowers and a lot less food. Then there was Support Band which had just a bottle of scotch and a few beers, while at the far end of the corridor was basically a broom cupboard with Jeff Beck on the door. That one had a dustbin with six cans of Budweiser floating in it and there was Jeff, rolled up on the floor in a foetal position with his head in his hands who said God, you re all I need! Then he reached for his chequebook and gave me my ton. He d lasted seven gigs out of fifty and his own band had been running a sweepstake since day one to see how long he d stick it out!
One thing which becomes apparent quite quickly in No More Mr Nice Guy is just how much the music industry has changed in the past three decades. The book is full of madcap junkets bringing hacks to exotic locations (the funniest being a Uriah Heep album launch in a mountain-top restaurant in Switzerland, where the combined effect of alcohol and altitude caused more than half the travelling party to pass out before the main course) and being granted the kind of access which is utterly unheard of these days. Control appears to be the name of the game today and gone are the times when NME would send Nick Kent on the road with The Stones for three weeks.
In fairness, I doubt if they sent Nick out for three weeks, laughs Keith. He might have been sent out for three days and they couldn t shake him! And Nick probably didn t know he was still there! Nah, it s a different game completely today and you just aren t allowed to get nearly as close. When I worked on the NME I think I held the world record for the amount of interviews with The Rolling Stones. You d interview them when they were a new entry in the charts, again when it went Top 10, again when it went Top 3 and if the record was still selling four weeks later you might do a fourth interview. And that was for every single, at a time when bands were knocking out four singles a year minimum. In the space of a year I d speak to them maybe sixteen or eighteen times, and often go on tour with them.
It s become tighter now and it really stems from the way the national tabloids went in the 80s. Things got a lot more spiteful, more intrusive on a personal level and that had a fallout effect on the music papers. All in all, it simply stopped being fun, which is why I quit.
Having been a journalist himself, Keith obviously knew the direct routes to a hack s heart. In fact, halfway through our interview I remind him of a conversation we had over a decade ago when he rang me and made the tantalising proposition Would you like to go to America to see The Who? Hang on, I ll check my diary . . .
That was to do with a European tour that was subsequently cancelled, wasn t it? Sorry about that. Ah yes, the old awayday ploy! Never fails! That was always a winner during my time with Eddy Grant. I d ring someone up and say Do you want to do an interview with Eddy Grant? and it d be Um, well, the new single s not doing much . Do you want to do an interview with Eddy Grant in Barbados? Can I bring a photographer?!?! Works every time!
Now working in a research capacity for music TV documentaries, Keith Altham has the kind of stories which would pass several nights in a comfortable hostelry. His CV not only encompasses Rock superstars but stretches through to The Fureys ( They were great fun. Finbar is a marvellous character ) and, believe it or not, Brendan Shine! I couldn t believe the following he had over here, he says. Granted, it was mostly in Irish centres but he was a delightful man. A farmer, isn t he? A good laugh to be around.
From Keith Moon to Brendan Shine, Keith Altham has one or two tales to tell, and there are enough of them in No More Mr Nice Guy to be going on with for now.
No More Mr Nice Guy by Keith Altham, published by Blake, #7.99 stg, is out now.