![]() ![]() By this stage, his cancer and perhaps more specifically his reaction to the diagnosis had become national news and accordingly (somewhat ironically) he now found himself playing far bigger venues. His second was to arrange a farewell tour. Wilko’s first action was to visit Japan, a country with arguably his most ardent fan base and a country he loves. A man who had sadly dealt with anxiety and depression most of his adult life no longer had a long-term future to worry about he only had to live in the present and this made everything around him suddenly feel viscerally alive. His well-documented reaction to this news – that he felt ‘elated’ on leaving the diagnosis meeting must seem curious, unless you know the psyche of the man. Thirdly, in late 2012, Johnson was diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer and given ten months to live. Secondly, Johnson’s eccentric performance in Oil City Confidential brought him to the attention of the producers of HBO’s Game Of Thrones, who cast Wilko in the first two series as mute executioner Ilyn Payne. ![]() By then, Feelgood front man Lee Brilleaux had died of cancer and of the three remaining original members, one stood out as being curiously charismatic. Firstly, film director Julien Temple, who documented the rise and fall of The Sex Pistols in The Great Rock And Roll Swindle and The Filth And the Fury made it a triumvirate of rock docs when he chronicled the career of Dr Feelgood in his 2009 film Oil City Confidential. Then, three things happened that helped to pluck Wilko from his relative obscurity. The performances back then were amazing, but there was no escaping that Johnson was only playing to a comparatively small number of enthusiasts in the pub it was a far cry from his heady days in Dr Feelgood. The Cricketers Kennington (Stephen Harris) Don’t look for The Cricketers now incidentally sadly, like so many others, it’s a casualty of the decline of grass roots music venues. He had a residency at The Cricketers in Kennington, nestling behind the gasometers and The Oval cricket ground, and we were always in attendance. It blew me away and fostered a love affair with the man that has endured to this day.Īs soon as I was old enough to attend live music on my own, Wilko and his band were a primary target. The show was called Rock School and on it, Johnson showed off his remarkable technique for apparently playing both lead and rhythm guitar at the same time. The first time I ever saw him perform was a few years later on a BBC programme aimed at impressionable teenage wannabe musicians (a.k.a me). As a result, I was not cognisant of him at the height of his fame. I was nine when Wilko Johnson left the band. ![]() I was three years old in 1971, when Dr Feelgood first brought their dirty RnB out of the ‘Thames Delta’ of Canvey Island and into the mainstream. A specific event triggered it, but the seeds were sewn when I was in my teens and it all revolved around one man: Dr Feelgood guitarist, Wilko Johnson. I may have been attending gigs since I was first able to express a preference, but the documenting of them waited until I was well into my forties a mid-life crisis of epic proportions. Night at the pub? Cinema and a meal? No thanks, I’ll take the gig. The how will follow in part two, but for now here’s the why. In the end, I’ve staved off stir-craziness with MS Word and a couple of RockShot articles: I’ve decided to detail the how and the why I started shooting live music. ![]() I’ve contemplated re-watching Breaking Bad for the fifth time. For this music photographer, a cough that doesn’t want to quit means I’ve really got excess time on my hands. With the country heading into lockdown and an absence of live music to enjoy, sadly, us music photographers suddenly find we’ve got excess time on our hands. ![]()
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