Let The Good Times Roll by Kenney Jones

Author:Kenney Jones [Jones, Kenney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink Publishing
Published: 2018-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

In early 1970, Billy Gaff arranged a series of gigs in England and across Scandinavia, to work ourselves in. The English audiences didn’t really want to know us then, but we weren’t bothered. Our sights were set on the US, and in the meantime we were happy to tighten the act and enjoy ourselves.

There was a lot of drinking in the early days, but I wouldn’t say it was wild, more a bunch of mates up for a laugh, getting along with each other. After what Mac, Ronnie and I had been through, we felt liberated, and it was a fantastic feeling, to be part of a five-piece setting out to conquer the world. Or at least give it a good go. It’s true that we rarely performed a gig sober, but because we were young it affected us less. We could still play, up to a point.

Our first North American tour began in March, at the Varsity Arena, Toronto, supporting Canned Heat. From there we moved on to the States, and a series of small clubs and theatres; hot and sweaty places, like the Northern Virginia Community College, the Wharton Youth Centre and the Eastown Theatre, Detroit. We were loud, bluesy, ballsy and word-of-mouth spread like wildfire. When we hit New York in April, it was everything I hoped it would be. Just like in the movies. Arm-whirling cops directing traffic, shimmering skyscrapers, yellow taxis and steam billowing out of manhole covers. And the people, they were so welcoming, all across the States. Have a nice day. We sure did, many of them. Mac, I remember, was particularly taken with one aspect of New York life. Across from our hotel there was a little deli that sold freshly squeezed orange juice. He said he’d never tasted anything as good. Apart from brandy.

Playing live with the Faces proved a revelation. A different image: less Mod, more rock; longer hair, colourful clothes and more fun on stage. And an unheard-of reaction from the crowd, or unheard of for me, Ronnie Lane and Mac at least. No high-pitched screaming; instead it was cheering and shouting, appreciating the music.

On our return from the US, we made a series of festival appearances in England and Scandinavia, plus some back in the States, interspersed with smaller concerts at venues such as the Cooks Ferry Inn, Edmonton, and the Civic Hall, Dunstable. Half the time, though, I didn’t have a clue where we were going or where we’d been, although one particular gig does stick in my memory from this period – the Open-Air Love + Peace Festival in September on the island of Fehmarn, off the coast of West Germany. The idea was to recreate Woodstock in Europe; they got the weather right, but not much else.

We played on the Saturday night, 5 September, in a wild storm. Drenched by the horizontal rain and electrical equipment shorting as we tried to perform, I spent most of the set either grabbing at my cymbals, which were

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