Thin Lizzy
Thirty-four years after his death, new generations of fans and musicians continue to have an extraordinary affection for Phil Lynott, the band he led, Thin Lizzy, and especially the classic, timeless songs they recorded. Here we celebrate half a century o
Thirty-four years after his death, new generations of fans and musicians continue to have an extraordinary affection for Phil Lynott, the band he led and the classic, timeless songs they recorded. We celebrate half a century of Lizzy, looking back through the eyes of two band members who knew him best: Scott Gorham and Brian Downey.
Even though he’s lived in London for almost 50 years now, Thin Lizzy’s longest tenured guitarist Scott Gorham still exudes the kind of laidback cool usually found lounging by a kidney-shaped pool in southern California. I feel obliged to bring up the new ‘super deluxe edition’ Thin Lizzy box set, Rock Legends, which is coming in October, and it looks to be an impressive beast. From the press release: “Six CDs/ DVDs, featuring 74 unreleased tracks, 83 tracks never previously released on CD, alternative versions of all the hits, rarities, live tracks and rare footage… previously unreleased Jailbreak demo… an A4 book, the rare ‘collected works of Philip Lynott’ poetry book, reproductions of nine tour programmes and four Jim Fitzpatrick art prints…”
But in the end, with 50 years of Thin Lizzy and Phil Lynott to discuss, we just talk instead. Much as we have been doing since we first met in 1976…
When you joined Thin Lizzy in 1974 did you still have to play Whiskey In The Jar? When I auditioned for the guys the whole thing was wild and raucous and guitars were out front. Phil asked me to join that night, and gave me their records because I’d never heard anything Thin Lizzy had done. And here’s their one hit single, Whiskey In The Jar. I take it home, and I’m expecting to hear what I heard at rehearsal, right? Except what I’m hearing is ‘da-derderble-derble-derble…’ I’m going: “What the fuck is this?” Took an instant disliking to it. So after about six months of playing this damn song, I go to Phil and say, you know, Whiskey In The Jar, it’s great, but we got a new band now, we gotta stand on our own two feet, you know? He goes: “Yeah, I get it. Let’s get rid of Whiskey In The Jar.” You know, like it was that easy. Now if I reverse the whole thing, and say a new guy comes in years later and goes: “You know, Scott, The Boys Are Back In Town, this is a whole new thing. I think we’ve got to drop it. I’d be: “You’re so fucking fired!”
The first Lizzy album of the new LynottDowney-Robertson-Gorham era was Nightlife. It got written off for its unexpectedly laid-back, funk-brother vibe. But 1974 was the year of Little Feat, the Average White Band, Rod Stewart doing Motown, Bowie’s Young Americans. Was the thinking: this is where we should be going too? The rehearsals for that album were exactly the same way as when I went down and jammed with them: everything was loud, it was big. But when we got into the studio, Ron Nevison, the producer, kept saying: “Just turn the guitars down a little.” Robbo [guitarist Brian Robertson] and I would look at each other and go: “This is our first album, and this guy’s just worked with Led Zeppelin. So we’ll just take it down a notch.” And Nevison was like: “Could you turn it down a little bit more?” And the volume kept going down and down, to where the songs just didn’t have that drive any longer. We all walked out scratching our heads, going: “What the fuck just happened there?” That’s when Phil goes: “Fuck these producers, I’ll produce the next one.” I went: “Oh shit. What have we let ourselves in for now?”
That next album was Fighting, in 1975. It seemed to take its cue from the rousing Sha La La – the only out-and-out rocker on Nightlife – and just keep building. I think every album we did, there was an element of: well that song’s killer, maybe not so much that
“Phil never had a doubt that this band would keep going forward”
one. There were a lot of peaks and valleys, especially on those first couple of albums, until we finally got into our stride around the time of Jailbreak and Johnny The Fox, which came out the same year [1976]. Then after The Boys Are Back In Town hit, all the time just evaporated. Writing on the road and no time to demo things, it became a much bigger chore to push us to be able to write and record. But thank God for that song!
Did Phil just come in with it one day? Yeah. But it was one of those songs none of us never really paid attention to. We were sitting around one day, and he was on his bass guitar, just kind of ‘dunga dunga dunga…’ He goes: “What do you think?” I said well, it sounds like ‘dunga dunga dunga’ He goes: “Yeah, yeah, I know. But play the chords with me.” So I play the chords and it sounded okay, but I’m thinking, well, shit, man, what the fuck can you make out of these? I said: “How about this?” and played the riff we now know. He went: “Yeah, something like that!” Robbo said why don’t we make a harmony. So we get the harmony on it. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.” Then we just put it away and didn’t really think about it.
It was [Lizzy co-manager] Chris O’Donnell who picked up on it. It was called G.I. Joe at this point. We looked at it like an anti-war song at first. Chris goes: “There’s something about this I really like.” That’s really how that song got on the album, because Chris liked what he was hearing in demo form.
“What made the band so enduring was the songwriting from Phil, and
of course the harmony
guitar work.”
James Hetfield
So should you and Robbo have had a co-songwriting credit on it? Well, there is a bone of contention there. There was like a rule, I don’t know where it comes from, but if you don’t write thirty seconds of part of the chord structure, it’s not really writing. We worked like that for years. Maybe myself and Robbo should’ve got a credit. But you can’t go back in time. It is what it is. I’m just happy it was a hit. It changed our lives.
Phil was obviously the dominant songwriter. Did you ever feel frustrated by that? Not really, because a lot of those bits you hear on the album are mine. I feel good about that. My
“We finally got into our stride around the time of Jailbreak
and Johnny The Fox.”
name might not be on it, but I can say that’s me, that’s mine. Phil was always saying: “I don’t wanna be the sole songwriter in this band. Whatever you’ve got, please bring it forward and see if we can use it.”
In fact you are co-credited on some of Lizzy’s most monumental music: Warriors and Emerald from Jailbreak; Massacre and Johnny The Fox Meets Jimmy The Weed; the title track on Bad Reputation; the title track on Chinatown. The big thing for us was: yeah, okay, it sounds good, but is it going to translate to a stage? There was always that in the back of everyone’s minds, that we need to write these songs also for the stage, because you gotta go out and sell this stuff, and you gotta reproduce it every night. You had to kill.
A lot of the songs were based on real-life characters. I met the real Jimmy The Weed years later – Jimmy
Donnelly. He was the father of this actor, who I met through this other actor. He just had to tell me: “I’m Jimmy The Weed. I’m the one that song’s about.” I’m like, no shit, you’re a fucking gangster?
There was that quality about Lizzy too: brilliant fun, but with a certain edge. Even writing songs there was an edge going on, because we never wanted to sound like anyone else. Everything had to be totally original. If you brought a song in, even part of a song, the last thing you wanted to hear was: “You know, that kinda sounds like…” I think a lot of really good things got thrown off the wagon because of that attitude. It happened to Robbo a couple of times. But then maybe that’s why so many songs from that era people still love today.
You weren’t afraid to roam outside the hard rock straitjacket. I’m thinking of Dancing In The Moonlight, Still In Love With You, Sarah, to name just the obvious ones. As far as that goes, there weren’t any rules. If we liked a song, it goes on the album, no matter what genre it might be pointing to. Like Sarah. Phil says: “Oh, that’s not a Lizzy song.” Yeah, but it’s a great song, and we got to keep it on the album. It became another hit, and to this day it’s a beautiful song.
Thin Lizzy never quite cracked America. Why do think that was? I think we would have. Boys Are Back and Jailbreak were on the charts there. But it got desperate, people getting hepatitis, broken fingers, people quitting. It wasn’t in Australia or Japan or Sweden, it was always fucking America that these calamities happened to the band. It was almost like a forgone conclusion that: Thin Lizzy, you’re not going to make it in America.
Being American, that must have been particularly galling for you? It was so disappointing. Everybody wants to be big in their own country. And the band loved being over there, loved the American audiences. But we kept letting them down. Fans can only take so much before they go: “Will they show up? Should we even buy the tickets?” I can’t say we were our own worst enemies, as a lot of it wasn’t our fault. It was just horrible, horrible luck.
The band also went through five guitarists in this period: Robbo, Gary Moore, Midge Ure, Snowy White and John Sykes. It was always the other guy who threw in the towel or got fired. How did you deal with all that? When we got rid of Robbo the first time, I thought: “Well, that’s it, the end of the band.” But Phil was like: “Fuck that, man, we’re going forward!” Phil never had a doubt that this band would keep going forward. So whoever came in, we always let them have a really good shot at it. Phil and I were great, great friends, we loved hanging out with each other. We palled around all the time. Sometimes to the detriment of everybody else in the band. We kind of built this wall around each other and didn’t let other people in. I think the other players felt that, and I do regret that.
“Thin Lizzy was
one of the most original bands of its time.
And there really hasn’t been anyone quite like them since.”
Slash
“Phil and I kind of built this wall around each other and didn’t let other people in. I think the
other players felt that, and I do regret that.”
Who was the most difficult to deal with? I got to say Gary. He was convinced at one point he was the best guitar player in the world. Phil and I would look at each other and go, whoa, okay. Gary had a great sense of humour. But he would go off on these tangents, and either myself or Phil would have to talk to him and say you got to chill out a bit here, buddy.
He really wanted to be a solo artist, and to share guitar duties was not on his menu at all. He really was good enough to pull it off, so I don’t have any animosity. It’s just the way he did it pissed everybody off: walking out in the middle of an American tour. You just don’t do that. He apologised a couple times over the years. It was too late by then, though.
“What makes
Thin Lizzy so unique
in rock’n’roll was
the balance of toughness and
sweetness.”
Billy Corgan
“People getting hepatitis, broken fingers, people quitting. It was always in f**king America that these calamities happened.”
By the time John Sykes joined for Thunder And Lightning in 1983, you and Phil were both hooked on heroin. I feel sorry for John. We knew that was going to be our last album. I don’t think we informed John because we couldn’t believe it ourselves, but it was definitely going down. John got short-changed on the whole thing.
You and Phil were still good friends, though? We were pretty much joined at the hip for ten years. We did everything together. Just messing around on stage, always joking together. He’d always turn around and give me that devilish smile. We were drug buddies, but the fun went out when the heroin came in. For quite a while we tried to keep it secret. Then it became obvious. There just weren’t enough dead rock stars around yet to make it feel too dangerous to do. Before you know it you’re spiralling out of control. It was a terrible time.
How did you quit? I was having another argument with my wife, Christine. I’m like: “What’s the problem? Nobody knows I’m doing it anyway.” It was the look she gave me – incredulous. She said: “Everybody knows!” That did it. I realised this brown powder was ruling my life. And that really depressed me.
Then Chris found this pioneering treatment by Dr Margaret Patterson, called the black box. Running an electrical current through you. Same thing that helped Townshend and Clapton. I was at a function, and Jimmy Page was there and he dragged me off the sofa and said: “So you gonna call Dr Patterson?” So I went to see the doctor, and within ten days I was off of heroin. Physically I was okay, but it took me maybe two years for the mental side. I didn’t even want to go to a gig.
I didn’t trust myself. So I lost myself. Didn’t associate with anybody for two years. I went off to America and started recording with my brother and in-laws to get me back playing guitar somehow.
Phil wasn’t so fortunate, of course. He died after an overdose in 1986. I heard that Jimmy Bain [then former Rainbow and soonto-be Dio bassist] was there that night, but when he realised Phil had overdosed he made a run for it. Phil’s laying there on the bathroom floor, he’s desperately ill, but nobody calls the ambulance because they’re afraid the police will come and they’ll get busted.
So Jimmy just got the fuck out of Dodge? Sure did. Don’t have really a lot of good things to say about him ever since. And why would I? He was pretty greasy, all right. I know the last time I saw him [before his death in 2016] he had lost a fair few teeth, his face had aged horribly. What the fuck, man? That could’ve been me if I’d stayed on this shit.
But you found a way of keeping the flame alive with your posthumous version of Lizzy and the band’s evolution into Black Star Riders with Ricky Warwick as the frontman. First time I tried it, Chris O’Donnell said by all means, people want to hear the music, but you’re probably not going to make any money out of it. I said yeah, I know that. I just want to keep playing the songs and have the name out there. I get these guys playing with us who are international stars in their own right, they all tell me they wanted to be in Thin Lizzy. It’s great fun to watch the glee on these guys’ faces when you play something like Chinatown. It becomes a thing of what not to play! It’s a great problem to have.