Peter Frampton
Peter Frampton’s diagnosis with a degenerative disease means May’s UK tour is likely to be his last. The guitar icon looks back at the triumphs and knocks of his career, into the eyes of his illness, and onto the music still to come…
Most farewell tours are not to be trusted. From KISS to Mötley Crüe, long-time observers of rock will know the routine: the valedictory arena shows, the two-year itch, the reunion album, then business as usual. But when Peter Frampton says goodbye at five UK dates this spring, the veteran guitarist truly means it – however desperately he wishes he didn’t.
News of Frampton’s situation can’t have escaped you. Nine years ago, the guitarist was newly into his 60s, and hiking up a mountain with his son when he found himself strangely fatigued. Back then, he dismissed it as the inevitable wear-and-tear of ageing. But when the guitarist began struggling to climb stairs and lift suitcases, then fell down repeatedly on stage in 2015, he visited a neurologist and had his fears confirmed. Inclusion Body Myositis (IBM) is a muscle-wasting condition that weakens limbs and threatens mobility. The symptoms grow progressively worse and there is currently no cure.
“It was a devastating period,” reflects the 69-year-old family man, “for us all.”
But those same observers of rock will also know that Frampton is not a man to shrink from a battle. From his teenage band, The Herd, to the visceral blues-rock of Humble Pie with Steve Marriott in the late 60s, and onto a solo career that peaked commercially with 1976’s 11-millionselling Frampton Comes Alive!, there have been plenty of triumphs. But as Frampton reminds us, if he can return from car crashes and career wilderness, then he can fight back from this diagnosis and keep making music, somehow, somewhere.
Every live show you play must mean so much to you now? “Yes, and the audience really add to that feeling. We did about 50 shows here in the States, and there’s an incredible warmth that’s coming from them towards us on stage. It’s like they’re trying to heal me. There are no words to explain that particular feeling. It’s sad. It’s happy.
It’s everything. But I can’t lose it on stage, because I have a whole show to do. So I don’t say goodbye at the end. I wave. And I think that’s the moment. When I turn my back and walk off the stage – I don’t have a dry eye at that point.”
Will you be strict with yourself when the time comes to stop? “Well, most artists are perfectionists, or think they are. For me, I’ve never gone on stage unprepared or feeling like I needed to practise more. I’ve always gone on stage at the top of my game. Or tried to. Done everything possible. Last year, I said to my manager that I don’t want to be the guy that goes out on stage and people say, ‘Well, he’s not as good as he used to be.’ I’m not that guy. I know that poor Keith Emerson – who was a dear friend – had some hand problems, and that was awful, that he started getting criticised for his playing. I don’t want that for me. I can’t ever go on stage knowing that I’m not going to be able to play my best.”