To say she went a bit misty eyed is quite the understatement. As well as being far too good for the likes of me, she was a bit older, and had stories of the nights she was in the same pub when Phil Lynott would arrive in. Sometime in the nineties, I was in for a pint with my then girlfriend in a city centre watering hole, possibly The Bailey, but I’m not sure. “And I thought ‘Wow, we are on the map! To hell with Led Zeppelin and their special plane, look at this!’” Not that he needed helicopters or special planes of course, for Phil Lynott was a rock star when he was making the breakfast.
And then there’s Dave Fanning sitting backstage at the first Slane concert when the helicopter – from Crumlin – touches down, and Phil Lynott disembarks to walk amongst his people. There’s Bob Geldof remembering how Philo insisted on getting a limo to take them to an awards show that was only around the corner because that’s how things were done. There are many, many great stories about Phil Lynott, one of the greatest Irish men to ever draw a breath. 1976’s Jailbreak was the commercial breakthrough for Thin Lizzy, but the previous year’s Fighting is where it all came together, argues Pat Carty. You’ve got to give a little love for those who love to live.
0 kommentar(er)
