Pete Townshend was, of course, one of the first people I approached for this biography. I wanted his involvement less for his anecdotes – his memory is notoriously imaginative – than his overview, given that his intelligence and insight are without compare among his generation of rock musicians. His office was helpful and enthusiastic from the beginning, and I would like to thank Nicola Joss in particular for being unfailingly polite and immediately responsive throughout all correspondence and conversations. Quite inadvertently I timed my approach with Pete’s busiest year in decades: the Who’s re-formation, a solo Greatest Hits album, the launch of Tommy in London’s West End, etc. all combining with his renewed commitment to Alcoholics Anonymous, but we finally put a day aside during time off on the Who’s late ’96 American tour. As I readied myself in New York to go to interview him in Cleveland, Nicola called from London with news that Pete had sent her a fax overnight rescinding his inclusion. He had, he explained in that fax, “no longer anything to say about Keith that is kind”. This, of course, seems illogical and absurd given what we know about their relationship and although I was not able to convince him to change his mind, he did later elaborate upon his reasons in a lengthy letter that he requested I did not print. I can therefore only suggest that his decision, and his bizarre explanation for it, extends, in particular, from the events in his life following Keith’s death, which are detailed in the final chapter. I now believe I was unlucky to be approaching him at a time when his anger at Keith, both for influencing his own alcoholism and for still being absent from the group after all these years, was at its peak. Shortly before this book went to press I heard that he apparently now regretted his decision, which is exactly what those close to him intimated would happen. Had I taken yet more time on this book, he may well have contributed his memories. Then again, he may not. Mercurial is an adjective invented for Pete. Still, as he pointed out to me in writing, his views on Keith have been well documented over the years and I have been sure to include them. In the meantime, I’d like to thank him for his time and his office’s continued affability and other technical help after and in spite of his ‘intractable’ decision.
I found myself making friendships along the way with the core of Who historians, each of whom are reminders of the power of music to inspire lifelong devotion. Thanks then, in purely alphabetical order, to John Atkins, Ed Hanel, Melissa Hurley, Joe McMichael, Andy Neill, Olle Lundin and Jan Reyneart. An extra special ‘alright’ to Matt Kent, with whom I have found much else in common, despite our support of two other, rival south London football teams.
Miscellaneous gratitude to Eamon Sherlock for invaluable help with archives and contacts, Jeni De Haart for additional UK research, Rob Burt and Pete Frame for their historical perspectives, Jim Fraser at the Crown and Cushion (which avidly promotes Keith Moon association with the place: how times have changed!), Phil Lawton, Danny Barbour and Max Ker-Seymer. I’m grateful to Dave Stark for the Shel Talmy interview. Thanks also to Brian Gruschecki at Alperton Community School and all the Alperton and Wembley County ‘old boys’ for their enthusiasm, especially John Oliver and Tony Archer.
Enormous emotional debts are due to the two editors from the two different publishers who sponsored this book. Chris Charlesworth, with whom I have worked on and off for over a decade, has proved a loyal friend as well as editor; he committed himself to unilateral help even when it was not certain he would be publishing this book, and never failed to take on every minor request for information or contacts as a personal crusade. Tom DuPree at Avon is a new associate and will become, I hope, an old friend. His fervour has frequently bordered on the contagious. Both editors also showed admirable patience and belief as they stretched their intended deadlines and word length almost to breaking point to enable me to devote the necessary time and space to tell the story properly. Thanks also to Andrew King and everyone else at Omnibus, Lou Aronica and everyone else at Avon. And thanks also to Sandy Choron, my agent, equal parts champion and castigator who played a major part in seeing this all come together. And thanks to Loren Chodosh for helping instigate that relationship.
A special nod to Paul Harmer for reasons he’ll understand.
For the third biography in a row, I found myself taking on some of the less savoury aspects of those who I was writing about. Thankfully, I stopped short of Keith’s very worst tendencies, but it was disturbing enough to find myself developing a fond taste for Courvoisier, suffering lengthy bouts of insomnia, and experiencing terrible homesickness as I wrote about those exact same issues in Keith’s life. There is a scientific study waiting to be undertaken somewhere there, but I certainly don’t wish to make myself any more of a guinea pig than I have already unintentionally been. Neither can I pretend I was easy to live with during the process of actually writing the book, virtually around the clock for an entire year. To turn an old cliché on its head, I am incredibly fortunate to have a wife who understands me, and who offered me continued encouragement and love when I least deserved it. Posie, in case I didn’t say it enough while slaving over my computer: I love you.
Finally, thanks to the Who for the music, and Keith Moon for everything else he gave us in his short life. Though I sometimes found myself playing a particular Who album for days on end while detailing that period of Keith’s life, it was never (at least, not until towards the very end) a burden. I imagine, therefore, that I’ll still be enjoying the music on my deathbed. I’m equally sure I’ll be marvelling at Keith’s drumming, and falling off my bath chair in hysterics at the sight of him upstaging the Smothers Brothers, Russell Harty and anyone else who dared impose authority on him. This book has been incredibly hard work, but it has been an immense pleasure.
Dear Boy: The life of Keith Moon Page 92
