The gig that Ian Hunter said made him “suicidal”
What would it be like to be a rock and roll star? It’s a thought that creeps into people’s minds every day, as few of us will ever be able to truly understand what it must be like to make so much money off music, garner millions of fans, and play to sold-out arenas every night. In the case of Mott The Hoople, however, we don’t have to imagine what life was like, as Ian Hunter documented nearly everything.
In his book Diary of a Rock and Roll Star, Ian Hunter takes the reader through some of the biggest days of the band Mott The Hoople as we follow them around the US and understand what it means to be in a famous band. Of course, there are plenty of ups, as one would expect; however, we also glimpse the downs that come with being a part of a rock band.
One of the biggest issues that Hunter had throughout his time in a band was trying to keep his fellow bandmates in line. A huge part of the rock movement in the ‘60s was drugs and alcohol, and it’s something that Mott The Hoople was fully invested in. One person in particular who loved a drink was the drummer Dale Griffin.
Also known as Buffin, Griffin was synonymous with having a few too many and letting it impact his playing. This was especially the case during one gig in particular, which continued to haunt Ian Hunter while he was writing his book.
“He’s messy and loveable and breaks everything he touches,” said Hunter when talking about his drummer, “He gets uncontrollably drunk three times a year, and we all have to get him, or what there is left of him, together. Usually, he’s too far gone, though.”
Hunter reflected on a recent gig in Newcastle where Griffin was so far gone that any chance of a rhythm section went out the window before he had even clicked his sticks together. “He was so pissed the roadies were feeding him black coffee during the numbers and stamping their feet in time with the beat so he could try to keep up. Needless to say, he didn’t.”
That wasn’t where the gig disasters stopped, though. “To cap it all, the organ broke down, and we beat a hasty retreat, leaving a confused audience not knowing what was going on,” he said, “If I die and go downstairs, I would imagine hell to be like that particular gig. I felt suicidal. Now we’ve promised a cheap concert to make it up.”
Despite Griffin’s unpredictability, Hunter didn’t have many bad things to say about him. “He’s a drummer, man,” he said, “A fucking great one at that, so I’ll leave him alone before he hits me with his camera.”
