FOR a number of weeks onstage, Mick Ronson had been throwing in a variety of guitar moves in order to find something of his own. This was proving difficult as it felt like everything had been done already, from Berry’s duck-walk to setting the damn thing on fire. He’d windmilled à la Townshend, played it behind his back like Dave Edmunds in his ‘Love Sculpture’ mode and at present was going through a Hendrix ‘play it with yer teeth’ bit. As we soundchecked in Oxford, it occurred to me that one person gnawing the guitar was one thing, but two people, well, that was two things… probably.
I got all excited about this brave new idea and told Mick that, whatever happened tonight, he should just keep going.