Got up and went and got The Guardian and yes, a nice
Bic Runga review with no photo - fucking typical. PR'S
are self serving cunts. It's why I hate them and they
hate me. Actually I do like a couple of them but only
a little. Some PRs I love - I might even think of one
or two of them...
I have realised why Pete Townshend is leaping and jumping
around more. It's because he's wearing Doctor Marten's
again - the boots he wore in the '70s. They may be Prada,
but they're still DMs.
A sunny, hot and beautiful day in, er, Liverpool -
it's midday and I still haven't had anything stolen...
Some Who photos should go up later today. I tried to
pick ones that show Peter and Roger enjoying themselves,
to give the vibe of the show.
The Who come on and Pete is in different stage clothes.
A stripy top circa 1975. In the front row are two bored
looking middle-aged men who stay sitting when the crowd
are going wild. Pete stops the show to sarcasticaly
thank them for coming - and promises to try harder.
Head home after, down the motorway. One of my pet hates
is motorway driving - anywhere.
to the grim North to shoot The Who. Head out to Liverpool
on the train with Bill Curbishley. He tells some good
Keith Moon stories that I haven't heard. Arrive into
Liverpool at 5pm. I have no idea when I was last here
(early '80s?).I can't work out if the city has a charm
or not.The accents are so strong, you might as well
be listening to Russian.
Get in the hotel and The Guardian newspaper needs
photos of Bic Runga NOW for tomorrow's edition. I call
her PR who tells me she's just switched off her computer
and is going out. She has absolutely no interest in
her client, amazing what jobs people get. My agent,
Simon,has the Guardian address so Kazuyo sorts out
some pictures for them. After all the trouble, they'd
better use them.
The show is at the Liverpool docks which has a giant
big top tent right on the water. The backstage has statues
of the heads from Easter Island. What do they have to
do with Liverpool? I have no idea...
Roger seems pissed off and Pete is in a "don't
come near me" mood. So I expect an awful show.The
thing about The Who is you never know what you're gonna
get. They come on stage and by the third song are great.Easily
the best show I've seen on this tour.Pete is jumping
and looking deranged and Roger is enjoying himself.
I get some excellent (if I say so myself) jumping pictures.
The lighting is a bit basic due to the venue.Get a
very funny picture of the two of them together at the
end. Pete ad-libs the lyrics during Amazing Journey,
and finishes the show with three huge jumps. A GREAT
SHOW. Still the greatest Rock'n'Roll band in the world
and I mean it...
Off to shoot Bic Runga at Shepherds Bush Empire, and
it's the hottest day of the year, which also means most
of the girls in the audience are scantily clad. This
has made Peter Makowski very happy as he is with me.
Peter's looking for a bride at the moment - perhaps
he'll turn into Mick Wall, shave his head, get a Lone
Wolf tattoo, and move to rural Oxfordshire. Or more
Bic plays the first half of the show on her own. The
first thing she says to the crowd when she walks on
stage (after seeing me at the front) is 'Hello Ross.'
I preferred her on her own, and it was nice to shoot
her with a proper lightshow. She'll be doing an acoustic
tour in September, so go and see her, she's great.
Some new Bic Runga pictures
See more of Bic Runga...
As the Who song goes, it's a Heatwave in the'90s. Off
to Hyde Park for the Who. I get there around 4pm and
everyone looks cooked in a kind of pink barbequed way.
I try to go in the guest area and get accosted by a
friend of mine who is so drunk he doesn't realise he's
in the guest area. He keeps telling me the passes I
got for him are shit and why isn't he backstage? Strange
how everyone else is having a good time. I leave him
drinking himself into oblivion.
My shoulder is killing me. It locks up when I'm stressed
or getting wound up by drunks. See a chair masseuse.
I go over, it turns out to be Logan Plant - who's now
a qualified massage therapist. He sorts my back out
in ten minutes. It's great to see him.
Spend the early evening watching people get intoxicated.
They all have a predication for accosting and slurring,
promising never-ending friendship - which includes
'can I meet Pete Townshend?' or how I'm a wanker, an
arsehole and have an attitude for not escorting them
into Pete's inner sanctum.
a photo of Roger Daltrey and Jeremy Clarkson. Fifty
Dollar Don Bernsteine is hanging around, lurking over
Roger (a bit like a vulture waiting to swoop). Don
pleads with me to take a photo of him and Roger - Roger
sighs, says okay. I offer to do it with my camera.
'NOOOOOOOOOOO' says Don, 'it has to be mine.' Donald
is worried I might purloin the photo. Don is begging
Roger for some stage clothes - nothing important, just
the fringed jacket from Woodstock or the 1970 Isle
Of Wight. Don should stick to his heroes, Nikki Sixx
and Vince Neil.
Weller comes over. He's here with his daughter. I tell
him about my son - he only likes drum and bass. Sit
talking to Bill Curbishley (Who manager). I spy Rodney
Smallwood (Iron Maiden manager) with his serf, Barry
Drinkwater. I remind Rod to write an intro for my Maiden
book. He promises to do it this week - Steve Harris
has already delivered his. Chris Squire is staggering
around looking for the guest oblivion bar - I don't
think Chris has ANY idea who's playing. I go and take
photos of people dressed up and on stilts (I never
worked out why) and shoot the Casbah Club with them.
on stage to wait for The Who to come on. The crowd
is vast, it goes back as far as the eye can see. Shoot
the first few songs from behind Pete's amp. The giant
screen makes a big difference. From where I am it's
like being in the front row of the cinema watching
The Who. Great show. I know, I would say that, but
it is. I enjoy My Generation the best, a real London
The highlight of the day for me was meeting Graham
Hughes, a photographer. Graham shot the Quadrophenia
cover, Meaty Beaty, Odd's And Sods and Who Came First,
to name but a few. The strangest part of the day was
having my camera bag searched leaving the park. Securicor
asked my name to write down on a list - "Ji- Had"
I tell them - Kazuyo wrote down "Fatwa".
It's summer - well, I woke up in a sweat. It might
be all my sins against the world or the people who are
A hot day and it's only 9.30. I'm tired, went out last
night with Jimmy Page and Wilf Wright to the Hard Rock
Cafe's summer party tied into the shows this weekend
in Hyde Park. Lots of people begging to get stuff signed
to sell on eBay. And they turn into a bunch of spoiled
children when he won't sign anything.
Fifty Dollar Don Bernsteine took us to dinner at Nobu.
He had to leave to go back to work. Don was very worried
that I was signing the bill. 'Please don't order takeout'
he pleaded. Don's going to have a heart attack this
Got nothing in my fridge. Off to Tesco supermarket to
shop, I'll wait for the boring England game to start
so that it's empty.
I'm off to Bali and various parts of Asia in a couple
of weeks. One minute I'm desperate to go then I go off
the idea. I've convinced myself I need another Buddah
for my garden - in my mind that'll justify going...
I've abandoned my travel photography lately and I feel
I need to put some proper effort into it. It will make
nicer subject matter than musicians - and it will make
Went shopping and to the gym while England lost at
football. Let's face it, they're a shitty team - and
I know nothing about football.
Saw something far more interesting while cycling - a
programme on Qin Shi Huang Di, the ruler who made the
terracotta army for his tomb. England should have someone
like him managing the team. He'd execute the lot of