Conversations With Rock Stars

It is to you, I give this tune

June 1st, 1974

I walked into the studio where they were going to be filming. A huge black and white striped tent was being blown up in the center of the room. Cameras, equipments, and the crew surrounded it, getting everything ready for the video shoot. The guys showed up one by one over the course of an hour, Charlie being first and prompt. Michael Lindsay-Hogg, the director of the video, told them his idea. He got to the part about the tent being filled with bubbles and the Stones did not like this at all.

"If the tent's filled with soap it'll ruin our clothes," Mick Taylor stated flatly. "Can't have that at all."

"Quite right. Er - let's get new clothes on the boys for the video," Michael said, clapping his hands. They emerged from the dressing room minutes later wearing matching sailor suits.

"Beverly, let me sail you around the world in my yacht," Bill said to me as he came and knelt at my feet.

"Bill dear, you don't have a yacht," I reminded him.

"Alright lads, into the tent," Michael called out. Replacement instruments were given to them, so that the soap wouldn't ruin the nice ones they had brought.

I had already gotten my camera set up inside the tent, wrapped with a waterproof cover and with an extension to click for pictures. The song started playing and the band mimed along.

Halfway through, after the second chorus, Michael motioned for one of the crew to turn on the machine that would pour soap bubbles inside the tent. The band continued to mime to the song, dancing and grooving. The level of the soap was rising and Keith turned around to Charlie, who was doing his best to drum along, but was the only band member sitting down. Mick continued to dance and mime, while the rest of the band ran through the thick soap to rescue Charlie, who had started to drown in the suds.

June 29th, 1974

I flew from England to Philadelphia to catch Eric Clapton on his Ocean Boulevard tour. I went backstage to await the guitar god and chatted with Carl Radle, the bass player. Eric showed up, detoxed from heroin, and tuned his guitar. He wore an orange and black checkered jacket, a polka-dot shirt, vest, a colorful scarf, and sunglasses. He pulled his sunglasses down a tad, so that they rested near the edge of his nose.

"Are you the photographer chick who's always hanging out with Led Zeppelin?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, resting my camera against my chest and rolling up the sleeve of my button down shirt.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, stretching his left arm out to turn the large pegs at the end of the guitars' neck.

"I'm here on business. I write for Rolling Stone magazine now."

"Really? Is this where you tell me that on the next issue I've made the cover?" He asked.

"I wish I could, but I'm not in control of it," I said, remembering how stressful my job was now.

"Doctor and a lawyer and an Indian chief
They all dig that crazy beat
Way-out Willie gave them all a treat
When he did that Hand Jive with his feet"

I stood in front of the stage as the band finished the first number. Eric looked down with one arm crossed over his guitar, the other holding a cigarette, and an only slightly amused expression behind his sunglasses.

August 27th - 29th, 1974

I found Jonesy with the "beauty" crew trying on a wig to match his hairstyle from the Madison Square Garden gigs (he had cut his hair quite a bit shorter). He saw me approaching in the mirror and I grinned behind him. He had on a velvet jacket with puffed apples drooping off his shoulders. He reached out to the table in front of him, selected a wig, and handed it to me. I put it on and took a look at myself in the mirror. I looked ridiculous and he knew it. He cracked up and I started to do an impression of him onstage playing the keyboard, which he appreciated.