
Bettie and I want to wish all Rhinestone Music followers and lurkers a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Due to the holiday season, we will be on vacation and won't be back until the first week of January. So be happy, enjoy life and rock on!






Mott the Hoople were the first rock'n'roll band we ever knew. I don't mean ever heard, of heard OF. I mean this was the first real Band we ever were close enough to touch, smell and share our lives with. I vividly remember the first day we turned up to the rehersal theatre for the tour we were about to embark on, as support group to Mott The Hoople (the only time Queen supported anyone). We were pretty full of ourselves, and probably already felt we knew it all -we knew the theory, we had made our first album, and were fast discovering our own style in music, ethos, clothes and staging. But as we surveyed the exciting huge amount of gear on the Mott stage, up strolled the Band. They looked "The Business" -they were obviously It, seemingly without trying. They appeared as an agglomeration of bright colors, bizarre shapes, scarves, leather, sunglasses, velvet, huge boots, strange felt hats, blending seamlessly into masses of hair, beer bottles, fags, battered guitar cases covered with stickers, and SWAGGER. They looked lived-in; they exuded Attitude, and easy humour, and the utter confidence born of "Knowing you are Good". They were.
They were friendly to us, and courteously treated their warm-up group as equals from the start, but in the following months, as we toured Britain and the U.S.A. with them, I was always conscious that we were in the presence of something great, something highly evolved, close to the centre of the Spirit of Rock and Roll, something to breathe in, and learn from.
I vividly remember Ian's advice to me, late one night, realising I was missing my home comforts, ("If you need your things around you, Brian, you're in the wrong business" -he was right...). I remember the legendary Ariel Bender and the legendary Morgan Fisher crashing through my hotel door as one body, with a bevy of beauties in tow, with the cry "looking for a bit of head, Bri?!" (I was too shy). I remember the whole world of rock'n'roll girls Mott attracted and felt so at home with -they became a big part of our world too. I remember standing around back-of-stage in an arena in Memphis, seeing the place erupt to the first chords of "All The Way From Memphis", truly a great moment of re-connection to the original capital city of White Rock. I remember the night-long party afterwards in a Holiday Inn on the banks of the steamy Mississippi, a scene comparable with the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland, with a seemingly endless traffic of revellers in and out of everybody's rooms... and a lady who said "I'm going to make you a Rock Star". And so much more.
Oh, and there was the music! We worked our butts off on the tour, with great success; luckily for us most of the Mott fans took to our style. But there was never any doubt who was the Headline Act. Mott would swing relentlessly and unstoppably into their show every night; like a marauding band of outlaws, and every night there was something close to a riot -the kids couldn't get close enough to the stage- they simply couldn't get enough. Every night the legendary Silver-Cross-Painted-on-Chest Overend Watts would be winched on stage in his impossibly high boots, to thunder deafeningly, and menace the audience from on high. Ian Hunter (the unwritten Boss) would plant himself centre stage behind his shades and dare everyone to remain seated, pianos would be pushed off stage, amps would be thrashed, dedicated roadies would scuttle tensely across the stage, always aware of the possibility that the strong and silent Buffin would suddenly lose his rag and trash the drum kit over their heads. Ariel Bender played -screamed- on guitar, with hos whole body and spirit, rushing around the entire stage, on his feet, on his back, guitar behind head, or held aloft, or however the mood took him -an inspiration.
And it ROCKED. It was raw, fun, angry, glorious, jagged. It was everything except normal or predictable.
All things must pass. Mott The Hoople passed away much too soon. But it all lives in our heads. And in the surviving recordings there are hints, echoes of those days of Danger and Wander.
God bless'em!

(After a fight with a Hell's Angel at the previous gig):
That next day I went back to Detroit. I went to the radio station and challenged the entire gang, the Scorpions, of which the guy was a member, to come down and do their worst at my big show in Detroit -at the Michigan Palace- which they proceeded to do.
It became "the last ever Stooges gig" tape, METALLIC KO, with a picture of me on the front of it knocked out cold -a picture of me lying IN STATE as it were. And you can hear all sorts of things on the tape flying through the air. Shovels, four-gallon jugs, M-80's, blah blah: -but our lady fans in the front row threw a lot of beautiful underwear, which I thought was sweet." -IGGY POP, extract from 'I Need More'
Throughout this side you can hear the sound of glasses splintering against amps, light-bulbs, shoes, eggs -even an expensive Nikon camera which just manages to miss Williamson's face at one point. All of which means that as a live documentary of an audience-artiste friction, the second side of Metallic KO has Dylan's Royal Albert Hall in '66 Judas harangue beat to a frazzle. Talk about sorting the men from the boys -The Sex Pistols wouldn't have 16 bars under such horrendous circumstances! -NICK KENT