I also saw Ian Hunter play live twice, once with Mott The Hoople, and another time on a solo tour fronting the Hunter/Ronson Band with former David Bowie guitarist, the late, great Mick Ronson.
Due to their association with Bowie on the album (and titular hit single) All The Young Dudes, Mott were at the time being pegged as part of the seventies glitter-rock movement. And although the label wasn't necessarily an accurate one — as I said their sound was equal parts Stones swagger and Dylanesque poetry in motion (thanks to Hunter's voice and lyrics) — they definitely relished the role of glam boys in concert.
Bassist Overend "Pete" Watts was known as much for the knee-high platform boots he wore onstage as he was for his bass playing. As for Hunter, he played a variety of really cool looking guitars, including one that was shaped like a giant "H" and another that looked like a Maltese cross.
When I saw Mott the Hoople in concert, Hunter wasn't afraid to run head first into the crowd either. At one point in the show I saw, he even ran up the middle aisle with that Maltese cross guitar of his, plunked himself into a seat next to some poor unfortunate female, and barked "Move over you fucking slut!" into the mike. This was all in good fun, of course, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if the female fan left with the band after the show.
Most importantly, though, Mott the Hoople made some really great records, and Ian Hunter's introspective song lyrics pondering life as a rock star were often the centerpiece of them. Case in point would be "The Ballad Of Mott The Hoople" from the classic album Mott. "All The Way From Memphis" may have been the hit single from that record, but "Ballad" was its heart and soul. Hunter's lyrics lamented the life of the rock star, while at the same time poking some good-natured, self-deprecating fun both at his band and at himself.
Much of Hunter's best work, both then and now, has that unique sort of autobiographical sense to it. In his book Diary Of A Rock Star, Hunter takes this even further as he spares no details in telling the wild story of his life on the road with a Mott The Hoople tour in the seventies. The book has been called by some the best self-written account of both the glamour and the drudgery of the rock and roll life ever.
Article comments