![]() The tours, festivals and recording studio capers, the endless girls, booze and drugs, the naked women mud-wrestling backstage before Queen concerts, it was all huge fun at first. ![]() I remember doing a show in a circus tent somewhere, and looking out into the audience to see Salvador Dalí staring back at me. All that flying around the world and being dropped on a stage in front of baying crowds did nothing to reassure me otherwise. Was all this really what I wanted to be doing with my life? I began to feel more like a pair of hands affixed to a bass guitar than a functioning human being. ![]() I would stand around at those pretentious pop parties feeling like an outsider. Wild keyboardist Brian Auger used to tell me I “looked bemused” by our sudden breakthrough that brought appearances on Top of the Pops and huge coverage on the radio and newspapers. I’d have to be mad to give it all up.īut I did, because I wasn’t a pop star. ![]() How bad can it have been: posh kid, expensive education, awash with dosh, musical success and pending stardom? I had a life that millions of people craved. I progressed to west London’s Byam Shaw School of Art in 1963, where I didn’t try very hard because I was by then in constant demand as a musician. I discovered it as a schoolboy, learned to play the guitar and never looked back. I would go so far as to say that it saved my life. Music, as it is for so many, was my escape and my salvation.
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