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(from scrapbook 3, pages 30-31)

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QUO:DOWN, DOWN... AND OUT

CHRIS WELCH joins up with the band on their farewell tour.

"THIS IS what you call street credibility. Told you I had it somewhere."

Francis Rossi sat on the steps of the Hammersmith Odeon, munching a greasy kebab, surrounded by the flotsam of the city streets. Francis was waiting, with the rest of Status Quo, for the bus that would take them up the M1 to Leicester for another night on their 'End Of The Road' tour.

The way Francis was slouched, it looked as if times hadn't changed much since Quo started out as spotty teenagers in search of adventure, all those 22 years ago. Francis, superstar is still Jack The Lad at heart, an ordinary South London bloke.

But Francis, master of ruderies, one-liners and obscure in-jokes, found he had competition from the weirdos of Hammersmith. A portly gent who looked like Alexei Sayle engaged him in surreal conversation... "I'm not poor. Me father died and left me £55,000," he announced, then broke into a series of police siren noises. Francis threw his kebab into a waste basket and began to retreat to the safety of the luxury coach, complete with bar, loos, beds and a spin-drier. There were drawbacks in getting too close to the people.

Suddenly, the Sayle-like tramp pounced on the bin, rescued the kebab and proceeded to finish it off. Then, before Francis could reach safety, another eccentric approached and demanded advice on songwriting.

"I'm told that all my songs are in the same key. Is that a load of cobblers, man? What should I do?" Francis tried sweet reason. "Why don't you try writing in different keys?" Mercifully, the coach began pulling away, leaving a gibbering throng on the pavement.

"Right, I'm going to have a little kip," announced Francis, heading for the bunks. But duty called. Autographs had to be signed and interviews done. Being on the road with Status Quo revealed some of the reasons why they want to get OFF it.

THE FANS that night at the De Montfort Hall saw Quo the seasoned troupers rock through such old favourites as 'Paper Plane' and 'Caroline'. Backstage, though, was a band proud of its achievements but with strange undercurrents of dissent ruffling its apparent unity.

It was early this year that Status Quo announced they would not be touring any more but would keep the name alive through recording activities. They had released what I thought an excellent album, 'Back To Back', which has now yielded almost as many hit singles as Michael Jackson's "Thriller' - 'A Mess Of Blues, 'Ol' Rag Blues', 'Marguerita Time' and 'Going Down Town Tonight'. But the band didn't play any of them live and Alan Lancaster surprised me when he said he didn't think much of the album.

For Quo, being on the road isn't the bundle in the back of a van it used to be. Gone are the groupies and the roll-ups. Instead, it's a quiet ride in the Star Cruiser, with the press making more noise and causing more damage. While Francis sleeps before a show, the rest of the band tend to play cards, and Rick Parfitt likes a spot of roller-skating.

After stopping on the motorway to pick up drummer Pete Kircher (who waited on our late arrival for two hours), the band went straight to the Holiday Inn, checked in and then made their way to the gig for the soundcheck and the long hours hanging around in the dressing rooms, sampling the buffet and trying to relax.

Even after all their years on the road, there is a certain nervous tension before each show and a good crowd response is still not taken for granted. Any slight cock-up or change in plans can upset travelling musicians and they tend to be short on patience when it comes to hotel staff, food and drink. They enjoy the playing - usually. Everything else, however, is an imposition to be suffered.

Francis copes by allowing his butterfly mind to flit over a range of distractions. He has an unnerving trick of starting but not finishing sentences, and of pretending to stutter and getting some sucker to fill in the gaps. "Gotcha there!" he laughs. Only the rest of the band can understand him - half the bleedin' time.

Francis kept everyone entertained with his bizarre brand of humour. His eyes twinkling, he emitted loud farting noises in the dressing room, blaming the fictitious flatulence on a hapless Melody Maker photographer. He revealed skill at ventriloquism in the process. While I attempted to interview Alan Lancaster, he muttered in my ear vile suggestions involving public lavatories. But in the words of the music hall comedian - you can't help laughing at him.

FRANCIS CELEBRATED his 35th birthday on the road being assailed by two voluptuous girls from the Kissogram service - whom we met later at the hotel.

"They caught me in my room under a sheet, it was wonderful. And they also came onstage later during the set, to kiss me.

"I got ill during the tour, however, with a sore throat. I got a bug which went to my chest. I ended up sounding like a very poor imitation of Bonnie Tyler. I hope it's alright tonight. We had to cancel a few gigs in Europe because of it... a shame."

What has been the fans' reaction to Quo packing in touring?

"There have been some nice letters saying they've seen us for years and please keep making the records. And that's what we're gonna do. The thing is we do a two-and-a-half hour show every night and it's uptempo rock 'n' roll. I suppose we could go out on the road again in two years time, cut the set right down like everyone else does, and take the money and run, but I'd rather finish now."

Francis defended the last album and said that he liked 'Marguerita Time', one of the atypical Quo hits.

"People say, 'Why don't you do something different', and when we do they still complain. But I like 'Marguerita...' - it's great. I was pleased it sold so well - nearly half a million in England.

"We've done semi-country style songs before. To me there isn't much difference between country and what we do. I'm not really into Heavy Metal because it's got out of control. It's not just driving, noisy hard rock anymore, it's gruesome album covers with blood and snakes popping out of your nuts. Anything yer like, it's all getting a bit horrible.

"I don't like that aspect because it influences young kids. Id sooner see 12-year-olds into the Eurythmics than all that stuff."

Will Francis miss being on the road?

"Yeah - probably," he said without much conviction. "I mean, I like playing on stage. That's the only reason you end up on the road, but at least we have something like this bus now which is home for the moment. It makes you feel better. You know where everything is. When you're in cars or planes you can never remember where you've left things or where you're going. On the bus you can sleep, eat and wake up at the next gig."

HOW DID Francis feel when contemporaries of Quo packed up - like the Who?

"I dunno - because they did it once before, didn't they? People keep saying to us, 'Oh you'll come back again'. But I hope we don't, because that would be cheating. I hated that thing in the Seventies where people split up over 'musical differences' - that was a beauty - then got together again to make a few bob. Deep Purple are getting together again, right? Everybody knows they hate each other. Why are they getting together? Money. But a lot of their fans don't see it that way."

Francis then began to philosophise over the realities

CONTINUES PAGE 31

QUO: FROM PAGE 26

and vain imaginings of rock.

"It's an illusion. The fans think you are SOMETHING when you're up on that stage, and you can destroy that illusion by being mercenary. I think a little more honesty in rock 'n' roll would help. Bands should say, 'We had some money but we spent it all, and now we're coming back because we need some more'."

Francis tried to be honest about his own feelings and condition.

"You see, I FEEL 35 and my body doesn't work like it did when I was 25. I keep fit as best I can, though, and I try not to eat junk foods."

When he's off the road Francis is happy at his home studio where much Quo work has already been prepared.

"For years I wanted to make records in a certain way, but business people always told me what to do. Then I found out that I could do it myself, working with my partner Bernard Frost. We record stuff on a portastudio at home and then try and recreate it on multi-track."

What were the biggest highlights of Status Quo's career?

"I'll give you a group of them. There was 'Pictures of Matchstick Men', our first hit when we thought it was all going to change - and it didn't! Then getting 'Paper Plane' and the album 'Piledriver' into the charts. That was a serious UP. Then having a couple of albums go straight in at Number One because we were the band least likely to break, and if we did, we were the band least likely to maintain any sort of success.

"Then 'Down Down' going to Number One - that was a buzz - and our only Number One in this country. Then 'Rockin' All Over The World', which seemed to push us up that ladder. After that, the 'Just Supposin" album in 1980 was a high point, and 'What You're Proposin" was one of our biggest ever singles, you couldn't give 'em away fast enough. Wonderful feeling.

"People say we're just three chord merchants, but 'Marguerita Time' has six chords, including three minors. Be fair!!"

STATUS QUO have survived, probably because they are all mates - or so it appears on the surface.

"Oh, we have rucks alright," said Francis. "We do get on really well compared to most bands, though. It's great, as long as we don't talk about music or business. We're all individuals with different ways of thinking. And the older we get, the more each one of us thinks he's right, of course."

Do they ever see their old drummer, John Coghlan?

"Not if I can help it. Why - do you?" snapped Francis. "He was a very tricky person to get on with. You didn't know him? Lucky man!"

Francis has mixed feelings about his own starring role on the stages of rock, and is quite self-conscious about his looks, which can best be described as striking and full of character. He doesn't always see it that way, however.

"You have to PRESENT yourself, do you know what I mean? Sometimes I get a strange feeling; I look at myself in the mirror and say, 'you twit, you look a right dope'. I just look in the mirror and think, 'Jeez- you stupid git'. But then I wake up in the morning and think, 'Well, I've got to get on with it once again. It's no good me backing out now, the seats are all booked'."

Did Francis have any last message for the fans?

"I'll miss working to them, and the closer we get to the end of the tour the more worried I get about it. But, as I say, we want to go on making records, and if the fans will go on buying them, it will keep our spirits up. It would hurt to think we couldn't sell records without touring. Message? Just that they've been the best bunch of fans any group could ever have. They've all been unbelievably loyal.

"Everybody thinks we're going to go away, but we're not. We've got three albums to make and a movie and a lot of TV promos to do. We'll still be here, and playing to a bigger audience."

AT THE theatre, Rick Parfitt donned his roller-skates and waltzed around the hall while the lighting and sound men set up base camp. There were some 40 black speaker cabinets piled up either side of the stage where Alan, Pete and Francis jammed on some blues. Already they were complaining about the lack of volume, even though it sounded deafening in the empty hall.

After the show (for full review, see Koncerts page 39), the band raced off the stage with the notes of 'Bye Bye Johnny' still ringing in their ears, jumped into the massive coach and lurched round the corner to their hotel for meals, drinks and a chat with the Kissogram girls.

"That's what we hate about touring," explained Alan Lancaster. "This part. It's just so much wasted time, when we've got so much more music to make! It's wasted life when you're on the road, that's the problem."