Simply hearing a particular word today sparked a memory of a brilliant exchange I once had with a work colleague who I had never previously spoken to, aside from a polite "Hi" in the corridor.
This was at one of those "Away Day" training events. As an ice-breaker we were asked to pair up with someone on another table and each reveal something notable or surprising about ourselves.
For the purposes of this tale I shall refer to this other person as "Eileen". This is because that was her name.
Me: You want to go first?
Eileen: Um...okay then.
Me: Right then.
Eileen: Well...*nervous laugh*.
Me: What?
Eileen: Well, last year I did two weeks voluntary work in euthanasia.
Me:Euthanasia?
Eileen (proud face): Yes.
Me: What? Killing old people?
Eileen: Uh? What? No! Oh ...wait a minute ...LITHUANIA!
A powerful yet respectful cover of the 1974 Wings track, which was done for the 2007 BBC Radio 1 40th anniversary album. Also featured on the band's covers album Medium Rare, released to celebrate Record Store Day in April this year:
Wolverhampton Civic Hall, 4th December 1977. Taken by my older brother to my first proper gig - Thin Lizzy at the height of their considerable powers. My 13 year-old mind duly blown, Phil Lynott and the boys became a minor obsession, and over the next six years until they split I was lucky enough to catch them live a further ten times.
I was pretty upset when they decided to call it a day, particularly at their last UK gig that August, a headline slot at Reading Festival. This sadness paled in comparison though, with how I felt in January 1986 on hearing that Lynott had died. Possibly the most unique, distinctive frontman you could get (a leather-clad black Irishman!), the man who was lead singer, bassist, and songwriter for my favourite band was no more.
PHILIP PARRIS LYNOTT
That was that as far as I was concerned. I'd always have the memories and be able to play the albums, but any chance of again seeing the band I loved had died with their charismatic, troubled leader. Or so it seemed.
NOT THIN, NOT LIZZY
Today, picking up a music magazine, or opening a Ticketmaster email, you are quite likely to see ads for concerts by a band calling itself ... Thin Lizzy. In fact this has been the case for about 15 years. The current line-up features one original member (drummer Brian Downey) and two other ex-members, along with a motley selection of other stand-ins (see photo). Tellingly, Lynott's bass and vocal duties are handled separately by two people, making them a rather ridiculous six-piece.
Of course, Lizzy are far from the only act where this has happened, but what makes old rockers carry on with or revive a band long after their focal point has passed on? The usual line is that they are "paying tribute" to their lost bandmate, and that people "still want to hear the songs". This is a line often trotted out in interviews by present-day Lizzy's de facto leader, guitarist Scott Gorham (who joined the band four years into its existence in 1974). Clearly some do, or they wouldn't go to the gigs, and there are of course fans who weren't even born when the band was around first time. Yet I find it hard to believe that anyone who saw the real thing could get any kind of authentic experience from attending one of these shows, unless of course they have had quite a lot to drink. I'm no enthusiast for actual tribute bands, but there are at least one or two who look and sound much more like Thin Lizzy than those currently using the name.
To me, there are two main reasons why surviving members risk besmirching the name and reputation of their old group, and they are intertwined and inseparable.
1) They don't know what else to do. Clearly, in a time of high unemployment, someone who has for the last forty years divided their time between throwing shapes in front of a Marshall Stack and being strung out on Class A, will not be first in line for the position of Homewares Manager at TK Maxx.
2) The money (obviously). Clearly, if they were a member in the band's heyday they have every right to go out and play the old songs whenever they feel like it. The (huge) difference comes in whether they go out under their own name or the old band moniker, and in most cases that difference is measured in pounds, dollars, yen etc. In the situation we now have where musicians no longer earn much in royalties from back-catalogue sales and are forced out onto the road to earn a crust, these slightly tragic reunions are ever more likely.
When Freddie Mercury died in 1991, the remaining members of Queen put together an impressive tribute concert at Wembley Stadium, with many other big-name artists performing Queen songs. There was also a final studio album in 1995 (Made in Heaven!) patched together from vocals Mercury recorded in his final months, plus reworked songs from his solo recordings.
Since then Roger Taylor and Brian May, despite releasing their own solo albums, have seemingly been unable to leave the Queen legacy alone (Bassist John Deacon, to his credit, doesn't appear to want anything to do with their new 'projects', having retired in 1997). There has been the godawful stage musical, appearances on American Idol and X Factor, and a full-scale tour/album/DVD with singer Paul Rodgers on vocals. I suppose at least the work with Rodgers, of whom I'm a huge fan, was presented as a collaboration, with a number of songs from his Free and Bad Company CV played at their shows, but it all seems to me like picking at a scab, whilst getting paid millions to do so.
If you really want to piss on people's memories you could follow the lead of the reunited INXS members, who somehow concluded that the dignified way to find a singer to step into the shoes of the departed Michael Hutchence was not to advertise and then hold a series of auditions. Rather, why not hold an X Factor-type TV talent show?
Now I was no great fan of INXS, but there's wrong and there's very wrong. I never met Michael Hutchence but I think I can safely say IT'S NOT WHAT HE WOULD HAVE WANTED.
Ultimately, and depressingly, this is a simple case of supply and demand. While there are enough customers willing to pay for an approximation of the original live band experience, their enjoyment fuelled by a few over-priced beers and a sing-a-long to Jailbreak (or whatever), this will carry on. Heck, drink enough and that scary looking white bloke with all the tattoos might start to look like Phil Lynott.
We may even see more examples like The Drifters, where the band name is like a franchise and there are no original members due to the small matter of them being dead - or thereabouts. Certainly, though none of their number are deceased yet (I think), Kiss have spoken of handing over to a younger generation of the band.
However, this matters little because: a) It could be any fucker under that make-up, and b) they're shit.
I'll continue to rail against this kind of crass nostalgia-fest, despite feeling very much in the minority. Whilst personally I can't get quite as worked up about an INXS or a Big Country (another group doing the rounds 10 years after their singer's death), I still feel the pain of any of their fans who are shocked and appalled that the remaining band members can't just leave things be. When your first musical love is tainted by the decisions of those who you thought would know better, then I think you have every right to feel let down.
Obviously I will never go to see the fake Lizzy live - even watching a couple of YouTube videos as research for this piece was painful enough. To underline the farcical nature of this "reunion", I read today that the group photo above, which is less than a year old, is now out of date by two further line-up changes. They have been borrowing guitarists from (first) Def Leppard, and then Guns N' Roses, who now have had to go back to their day jobs. Shambolic doesn't quite cover it.
Here, for the avoidance of doubt, is the real thing. You can't fake this:
