Mick Ralphs RIP
I play this video a lot.
This gig took place the day before my 15th birthday and, just 7 weeks later, I was ‘down the front’ at Guildford Civic Hall for my first ever live gig; by the bunch of hairy, lairy reprobates in the video.
I play the video to remind me of the 10,000 volts of electricity that coursed through my body that night; to remind me what a fantastic front man Ian Hunter is; and to remind me that I am constantly amazed that I didn’t lose my hearing that night.
I have written before that 1970/71 Mott the Hoople were ‘punk’ five years before anyone thought to link the word with a band; I’ve no doubt that is why Mick Jones of The Clash followed Mott all over the country during the early ’70’s; and he’s only 14 months older than me; and then took that attitude and chaos into the music he wanted to play.
Turn this up to 11, close your eyes and you could be in the Marquee or the 100 Club in the early winter of ’76.
My first Mott album was Brain Capers, and it’s still one of my favourites. Hunter brought songwriting with him when he joined the band but, in Mick, he found a kindred spirit, a writing partner and a riff-maker of the highest order.
The early Mott albums are full of terrific songs and great covers; Brain Capers has back-to-back gems in Dion DiMucci’s Your Own Backyard and Jesse Colin Young’s Darkness, Darkness, (the latter sung by Ralpher himself.)
The months after Brain Capers were chaos, even for a chaotic band; they split up; the bass-player Overend Watts went to audition for The Spiders from Mars but Bowie was distraught that his favourite band had split. He offered them a song he’d just written, Suffragette City, if they got back together but the band turned it down, (rightly,) so he offered them All the Young Dudes.
They came back to Guildford in April ‘72 and then again in August that same year, when the Dudes single was riding high in the charts.
That night, after The Ballad of Mott the Hoople, Hunter came to the front of the stage and said;
“So I guess we should do the single? [roar from the crowd] Well, we might need some help with the backing vocals.”
The crowd thinks that means they’re going to be singing; but I’m right below Ian’s mic-stand and can see into the wings to my right. In that moment I know what’s about to happen as Hunter says;
“Ladies and Gentlemen; Mister David Bowie!”
Bowie walks out in a white suit with big lapels and sings the bv’s into Mick’s microphone, his arm draped around the guitarist’s shoulders.
It’s a moment I have never forgotten; I mean, how could you, right?
Mott the Hoople were my band. I saw them half a dozen times in the space of two years, when I was a sponge, soaking up every album and gig I could. Ian Hunter is still one of my favourite writers; slightly cynical, slightly humorous but really a big romantic softy.
Of course Mott went on to have all the other hits that everyone knows them for; Honaloochie Boogie; All the Way From Memphis; Roll Away the Stone; The Golden Age of Rock ‘n Roll; Saturday Gigs; but Mick had been tempted away by his friend Paul Rodgers to form Bad Company and, for a few years, rule the roost in America.
Mick’s Bad Co. riffs are on every rock radio station in the world; Can’t Get Enough; Movin’ On; Feel Like Making Love; Good Loving Gone Bad; Honey Child; Burnin’ Sky; Rock ‘n Roll Fantasy; and I love them all.
But those early Mott the Hoople albums, and those gigs in ‘71 and ’72, were so formative for me. Mick was a lovely, lyrical player who was loved by everyone who met him; the tributes from his peers have been wonderful; peppered with words like ‘lovely’, ‘warm’, ‘friend’, and ‘fun’.
Thank you, Mick; for the music, the solo in Sweet Jane, the riff on Can’t Get Enough and so much more.
Being a Mott fan was the closest I ever came to being in a gang.
“Do you remember the Saturday gigs? We do, we do.”
I never really knew much about them, but I think a post here got me interested and into those early albums – beats me how a band this good were not (yet) at the top of the world. Obviously they cracked it eventually, but man… they were SO good.
In those months of 1971 they were the most popular live act in the U.K, especially on the college/university circuit; but their albums just didn’t sell. When you think they went to America for their 5th U.S tour in April, May and June ‘74 they had Queen as their support act – the only time Queen supported anyone in the U.S. Back home, The Golden Age of Rock ‘n Roll was climbing the charts and everything seemed to be set up.
Then Ariel Bender was sacked to be replaced by Ronno.
By December, Hunter had had enough and took Mick Ronson with him.
Five years is all it took.
I saw Mott just the once, in Liverpool November 1973. Ralphs had already left and Ariel Bender took his place. Queen were the support act.
Mott remains one of my favourite LPs, alongside Aladdin Sane, Goats Head Soup and Fresh. All are messy great dollops of rock n roll with a smattering of touching ballads. I was fifteen. Does not feel like more than half a century ago.
I still bear a grudge about that tour. We were staying with my aunt in Leigh on Sea when I spotted that Mott were playing the Kursaal that very night. Despite all my pleading, no one was prepared to take me, so I missed out on the first gig I ever really wanted to go to. And I’m still pissed off about it more than 50 years on.
I think that’s very fair.
Wonderful tribute Niall.
Thanks 🙏
Beautifully put niallb. Here’s my original Nights In review of the Mental Train box set (I think it went missing in action when I changed my username):
Glam rock in the early 1970s proved an opportune moment for various musicians with mixed success up until that time. Think of Bolan and Bowie and their mixed fortunes. This was also true of Mott The Hoople. While most people familiar with the band will know them for “All The Young Dudes”, “Roll Away The Stone” and other songs of that era, this was only the tip of the iceberg.
Before Bowie and “Dudes”, they had slogged their way around the live circuit for several years, establishing a fanatical cult following. They also released four albums on the Island label between 1969 and 1971.
This splendid six-disc collection includes all four of their Island albums, Mott The Hoople, Mad Shadows, Wildlife and Brain Capers, together with appropriate B sides, outtakes and alternative versions.
There’s a separate disc of studio rarities and a live disc to complete the set.
Under the tutelage of maverick producer Guy Stevens, Mott’s sound developed into a thrillingly intriguing patchwork of electric Dylan, full-on rock n roll, and a smattering of country thrown in for good measure.
This was the sound arrived at from grafting together a young band of longhairs from the South Midlands with a 29 year-old, curly-haired singer-songwriter in shades from Shrewsbury, who’d definitely been around the block.
Mott The Hoople’s music of this period doesn’t always cohere, but it’s never less than fascinating. The self-titled debut release includes idiosyncratic covers of Doug Sahm and Sonny Bono, and the band’s self-penned rocker, “Rock and Roll Queen”. Throughout, it’s heavily indebted to mid-60s Dylan, but underpinned by a kind of wild-card, eclectic energy. They recorded it following a mere 11 days rehearsal after Hunter had joined, and before they’d played a single gig as Mott The Hoople.
The second album, Mad Shadows is altogether denser. It’s a swirling mass of riffs and ballads, sometimes bordering on the chaotic. Ralphs leads off with the powerful “Thunderbuck Ram”, Hunter shows an early mastery of the slow, intense burner with “No Wheels To Ride”, and the band really goes for it on “Walking With A Mountain.” It sounds gloriously spontaneous and rough around the edges (there’s a notorious squeaking bass drum pedal audible throughout “I Can Feel”).
For their third, Wildlife, Mott stepped back from the brink of chaos and produced themselves without the input of Stevens. They came up with something curiously laid-back. Guitarist Mick Ralphs takes lead vocals on around half of it, with a very Laurel Canyon-influenced feel and a certain period charm. It’s not going to float everyone’s boat, but it does contain some peerless Hunter ballads, including “Angel Of Eighth Avenue” and “Original Mixed-up Kid”. It also has a rather incongruous but high-energy live take of “You Keep A Knockin’” rounding off the second side.
Brain Capers, the last of their run of Island albums, finds them back with Guy Stevens producing (while reportedly inciting and instigating some in-studio vandalism). It is generally regarded as the best of the Island bunch, but also seemed like a last roll of the dice. While they were a successful live draw, with riotous gigs that resonated powerfully with their fervent fanbase, Mott couldn’t seem to alchemise this buzz around them into studio gold.
There is, however, a real fuck-you attitude on “The Moon Upstairs” and “Death May Be Your Santa Claus”, and a feeling of chaotic, semi-shambolic momentum on “Sweet Angeline”. The epic ballad, “The Journey” further ratchets up the intensity.
Brain Capers was not a success, failing to chart in either the UK or US. Things came to a head at a gig in Zurich in 1972 and the band decided to split… only for David Bowie to step in and offer them “All The Young Dudes”.
Thus ended Mott’s Island era. This box set collects pretty much all their output at this time and unearths various rough diamonds, including some sprawling studio try-outs and excellent alternate takes on disc five, The Ballads Of Mott The Hoople.
The final disc, It’s Live And Live Only, includes nearly all the band’s legendary 1971 Croydon gig at the Fairfield Halls, supplemented with tracks from a BBC concert from 1972.
Live, you get a sense of the their power and ability to connect with an audience, but by all accounts, you really had to be there. Mott gigs typically escalated into celebratory near-riots, culminating in mass stage-invasions by an army of fans.
Overall, the band you hear on this collection is very different to the Mott The Hoople of the later CBS years. Notably, Verden Allen’s organ playing is a prominent element; and there’s a sense of democracy underpinning everything, even if it’s at the expense of a more consistent sonic identity.
“Rock and roll’s a loser’s game…” sang Ian Hunter on “The Ballad Of Mott The Hoople”, looking somewhat wistfully at the band’s past.
This was the paradox they discovered: that the success they finally achieved after the Island years effectively pulled them apart. The key to Mott really lay in the process, not the reward, the means not the end. Yes, they did triumph over adversity following Bowie’s intervention, but ultimately it was a hollow victory.
This collection, therefore, is all about the striving and the struggle to find a unique voice. It’s something that’s particular to this band but also pretty much universal.
It sounds like the very essence of rock n roll, whatever that means these days.
Brilliant!
The other major figure in the history of Mott was of course Guy Stevens who went on to produce London Calling for the Clash before dying not very long after
Their debut album was probably the first time I (and I would imagine several other members of this board) came upon MC Escher
Great piece Niall. I was a big Mott fan and come to them with All the young dudes and folowedthem forwardS and explored backwards whilst serially rereading “Diary of a rock m roll star” – I still have my copy. I still remember the howls of derisive laughter at school when I judged Mick “better than Kossoff, better than Ronson” which was typical teenage self confidence but not far wrong. OK Koss is a good debate but even so. We lost him too early to really know.
I used to love those arguments. I declared Clapton to be better than Jimmy Page once. What an idiot.
Ooh that’s a good one. On their home turf they are miles ahead of each other.
Beautifully told, Niall.
His blues band played Norden Farm a couple of times. Did you catch him there? I did. Jaw-dropping to see such as he in that room, just up the road from my house.
Sadly no, Beez.
One day, people will finally realise Mott’s place in the pantheon of greats – they deserve more than they get recognition for. All the Young Dudes / Mott / The Hoople – 3 very fine albums in a crowded market.
May will cite Mick Ronson as the quintessential 70s rock guitarist – I go for Mick Ralphs for Mott, for Bad Company, and the reasons you quote above.
Perfect.
Excellent tribute, Niall.
It brought back some memories.
I saw Mott once at Watford Town Hall.
Of course, i had to google for the date. Quite a night out. Mott were majestic with an overwhelming, intoxicating wall of sound
April 14, 1970 Town Hall, Watford, ENG (with Keef Hartley & East Of Eden)
https://concerts.fandom.com/wiki/Mott_The_Hoople
KEEF was playing with his BIg Band and they were breath-taking.
Of course, the concert badly over-ran and I missed the last train home to Pinner. My long-suffering dad had to drive out all the way to Watford to pick me up.
Those were the days.
They were indeed.
I’d be curious to know the ticket price. Quite a few shillings, I suspect.
Looking at that site and seeing how many gigs Mott were doing throughout the year is gob-smacking.
The last train back to Pinner has left me stranded on not a few occasions 😉
An unusual evening for me, Normally, of course, @slotbadger, I’d have been in CentraL London, hoping to catch the last train towards Watford.
In those days, gigs did not always start at the stated time.
Worst offender was the wonderful Implosion on Sunday afternoons at the Roundhouse.
As i was paying about 10 shillings to see artists like Pink Floyd, I could not really grumble.
I saw Mott several times, but the first one was at Birmingham Town Hall with Queen as support circa 73′.
Saw Bad Company twice in a week at the Town Hall and on the bill for The Who at Charlton – Mick was a great player.
Lovely writing as ever, Niall
Thank you.