Latest news with #DrFeelgood
BBC News
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Dr Feelgood guitarist Wilko Johnson honoured with train tribute
A legendary musician will have a train named in his honour, a rail operator Johnson, the guitarist for 1970s pub-rock band Dr Feelgood before a long solo career, was born on Canvey Island, Essex.c2c, which runs trains across the south of the county, said Dr Feelgood was a "cultural icon of the Essex, London and UK music scene".The new nameplate is due to be revealed later, when a train will carry passengers - including live music - from Southend Central to London Fenchurch Street. Johnson was known for his distinctive, finger-picked style that blended percussive stabs and fluid licks, allowing him to play lead and rhythm guitar at the same was given 10 months to live in 2012 when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, but was given the all-clear after radical surgery in musician lived in Southend-on-Sea in his later years and he died in 2022.A spokesman for c2c said the firm was working on the train event with Jonathan Maitland, who has written the upcoming West End show, Wilko. Follow Essex news on BBC Sounds, Facebook, Instagram and X.
Times
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Times
Wilko Johnson — such a guitar hero, he's getting a train named after him
H ow many rock stars have had trains named after them? An engine bearing the name of Pete Waterman — of Stock, Aitken, Waterman fame and more a producer than a rock star — was unveiled at Crewe station last year. But apart from him the answer is none. Until now. On Monday morning the Wilko Express will be unveiled by the train operating company c2c in honour of Wilko Johnson, one of the founders of the 1970s band Dr Feelgood. It will run from Southend, where Wilko lived, to Fenchurch Street and pass through places where he spent and misspent his youth and played some of his most memorable gigs, including Westcliff, Leigh-on-Sea and Basildon. The train's commemorative plate, echoing one of his most loved songs, will bear the words: 'Wilko Johnson: 1947-2022. He did it right.' He certainly did.
News.com.au
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- News.com.au
Huge rock star ‘splits from girlfriend of 15 years'
A huge US rock star is said to have 'split from his partner' of 15 years amid allegations of infidelity. It came after Mötley Crüe frontman Vince Neil and his band left fans devastated after cancelling a string of gigs due to his health, The Sun reported. Now the Dr Feelgood band's lead vocalist Vince, 64, is said to have broken up with long-time girlfriend Rain Hannah in reports published on TMZ. The pair had been in a relationship since 2011. Yet the publication claims the California-born star's love story is 'officially done' – with sources alleging he believed the make-up artist had been unfaithful. The Sun has now gone to Vince's rep for comment. The pair did not have any children together but raised a Yorkshire terrier named Cali, who sadly passed away in 2020 after being attacked by neighbourhood dogs. The split claims come just months after they were on-board Vince's private plane when it crashed into another jet in Arizona. Back in February, Rain had shared happy pictures of them boarding the doomed jet on social media before it took off. She was then rushed to the hospital after Neil's plane collided with another aircraft at an airport in Scottsdale. The pilot of Neil's private jet was killed, officials said at the time. Three others, including Hannah and a friend plus a second pilot, were hurt in the collision. Footage from the terrifying scene showed the harrowing moment the planes smashed into each other. Rain lowdown Rain is an American beauty educator, celebrity makeup artist, YouTuber and social media influencer. She also goes by Rain Andreani and was born in Las Vegas, Nevada on August 15, 1982. Rain completed a degree in Communications, Broadcasting and Journalism at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Gigs off Vince's blow to his personal life comes amid issues in his professional life, too. Mötley Crüe made the shock announcement of the postponement of their US residency in a post uploaded to Instagram in March – revealing it was lead vocalist Vince's health that took priority. The Rock band – who previously announced their retirement before making a U-turn, addressed their loyal fans in two statements. In a candid message 64-year-old Vince, who joined Mötley Crüe in 1981, wrote: 'To all the Crüeheads who were looking forward to see us this Spring, 'I'm truly sorry. My health is my top priority so I can bring you the awesome shows you deserve, and I can't wait to return to the stage. 'Thank you for all the well wishes that keep reaching me. Your support means more than you know.' A joint statement from the band then read: 'Please join us in wishing Vince a speedy recovery. 'We are looking forward for him to get well again and to take over Vegas together in September.' The Live Wire singers were due to take to the stage at Park MGM in Las Vegas between March 28 and April 19. Their shows will now kick off on September 12 instead, running through until September 27.
The Guardian
23-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘I hope you enjoy the show. I hope I'm not dead': how Feelgood star Wilko never saw the play about his life
It's summer 2021 and I am sitting in the front room of a terraced house in Southend owned by my favourite rock star of all time. Someone who is, according to the Guardian, 'a 100-1 shot to be our Greatest Living Englishman'. I am about to read Wilko Johnson my play about his life, but I am extremely nervous as a) it's very much a warts-and-all job, b) Wilko is, as usual, looking very scary indeed and c) I am playing all the parts myself and, perhaps unwisely, am going full Wilko, accent-wise: a vowel-stretching Essex-cum-Cockney drawl. It was an unusual assignment back then. But then his was an unusual life. For a moment in the mid-1970s Dr Feelgood, the band he co-founded, was the biggest in Britain. They had a No 1 album, a mesmerically dangerous live act and fans including Jimmy Page, Paul Weller, John Lydon and, it's said, a young Lady Diana Spencer. They were hugely influential. The jagged riffs of songs such as She Does it Right and Down by the Jetty Blues – both penned by Wilko – would see them anointed as godfathers of punk. Their legend still burns bright 50 years on: there are apparently 27 Dr Feelgood tribute bands in Spain alone. Wilko and frontman Lee Brilleaux were the band's focal point, a compelling black-and-white Essex version of Jagger and Richards or Daltrey and Townshend. Brilleaux was gang leader – tall, menacing, charismatic – and Wilko was his mad-as-a-snake bodyguard with a thousand-yard stare. Lee prowled and growled, Wilko jittered and jerked like a demented robot, using his guitar as a machine gun to mow down the audience. It was funny, scary and thrilling. Wilko's guitar sound was extraordinary and unique: think percussive chainsaw. But it didn't last. Black moods and arguments over lyrics saw him leave the band in 1977. After fronting his own group, Solid Senders, he joined Ian Dury and the Blockheads but struggled with their complex musical arrangements. The solution, he later admitted in his brilliant autobiography, was simply to mime the more difficult bits. No one noticed, he claimed. 'They were so much more musical than me. One of them asked what pedal I used. 'Pedal?' I said. 'I'm a guitarist not a fucking driving instructor.'' This unsparing honesty could be problematic for those close to him, however. Hence the exchange with his wife, Irene, on the occasion of an admission of (yet another) infidelity. 'I thought you'd be pleased' he told her. 'Why?' she not unreasonably replied. 'Coz I'm being honest.' Wilko's marriage was, like him, full of contradictions. He and Irene were childhood sweethearts and stayed together until her death from cancer in 2004. He loved her genuinely and deeply. When she died, he considered suicide. But why had a man who loved his partner so much been so casually, cruelly and regularly unfaithful? Complex and colourful then. And quite a hinterland. He had a scholarly appreciation of ancient Icelandic poetry and a deep passion for astronomy, which he indulged via the industrial-strength telescope he installed on the roof of his house. And he starred in Game of Thrones. Of his turn as Ser Ilyn Payne, the mute executioner, he said: 'They told me to say nothing and look ugly and scary. Not much of a stretch.' But it was the events of 2013 that propelled his story into so-wild-you-couldn't-make-it-up territory. That was when he revealed he'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given 12 months to live. Declining all treatment – 'I don't want chemotherapy coz I'll just spend the last 12 months of my life feeling like shit' – he became global news. 'Game of Thrones actor has terminal cancer' was the headline in the New York Times. He gave several interviews, all counterintuitively life-affirming and utterly lacking in self-pity. It was, he cheerfully admitted, a great career move. Most rock stars have to die before enjoying (or rather, not) a meaningful career surge. But Wilko had 12 months to savour his. He made an acclaimed album with his old mate Roger Daltrey, played a sold-out farewell tour, and had the honour of presenting Elton John with a GQ magazine 'Genius' award, only for Elton to give it back to him, saying: 'You're the fucking genius here, not me.' I was at Wilko's 2013 farewell show in Camden and it was extraordinary: one of his encore songs, Bye Bye Johnny – Wilko's real name was John Wilkinson – saw him sing 'bye bye' to the crowd, who then sang 'bye bye Johnny' back. Bizarre, magical and very British. And that was the night that saved his life. Like I said, you couldn't make it up. His friend Charlie Chan, a cancer doctor and part-time photographer, took pictures that night and after studying them, decided Wilko looked suspiciously healthy for a man about to die. He was right. Wilko did have cancer, but in the form of a neuroendocrine tumour which, if ignored, would indeed have killed him. There had, in effect, been a misdiagnosis. (Moral of the story: always get a second opinion, even when dealing with experts.) Wilko, surprised but sanguine, agreed to an operation to have the tumour removed even though it had only a 15% chance of success. His luck was in. After a gruelling 12-hour operation, he was declared officially cancer-free. The amazing thing about Wilko's story is that it's a real-life Christmas Carol – only this one has cancer and guitars. After his death sentence, he became a better person. Or as he put it, 'less of an arsehole.' And he learnt to live more meaningfully. In his autobiography he describes seeing snow on a sunny day during a visit to a Buddhist temple in his beloved Japan. 'The snow turns to gold. I'm hypnotised. Paradise found. Sign up to Observed Analysis and opinion on the week's news and culture brought to you by the best Observer writers after newsletter promotion ''How long can I keep this memory for?' I think. 'No. You have no time to keep it for. You have to experience it now. In this moment.' This is how I have to live my life, now. In this moment. This present moment of bliss. 'If t'were now to die, t'were now to be most happy.'' All this and more was in the play I read him that day, while his son Simon observed, quietly, from the kitchen via a 1970s serving hatch. And there, on the mantelpiece, lightly covered in dust, was that GQ award. Wilko interrupted only once. The appalling behaviour, infidelities and selfishness all went unchallenged. His only objection? A scene of him sniffing cocaine. 'No. Not Coke. Speed.' Aren't they basically the same thing? 'Oh no. Lemmy, right? Lemmy 'n me used to stay awake for a whole week on speed. He always said day three was the best and he was right. On day three it felt like someone opening up your head, filling it with Rice Krispies, and pouring milk on top. Snap, crackle and pop inside your brain.' That went straight in the next draft and got the biggest laugh of the night when the show premiered at the Queen's theatre Hornchurch last year. Wilko wasn't there to see it though. He died before opening night, aged 75. But he recorded a message for the audience just in case. 'I might be brown bread (by then) but there's nothing I can do about that, right? Otherwise, I'll be there. And I hope you enjoy the show. And I hope I'm not dead.' They did enjoy it, so much so that the play is now coming to London. Ironic, really: often, plays disappear after just one incarnation. But this one is not going gently into that good night. Just like the man himself, in fact. Wilko: Love and Death and Rock'n'Roll is at the Southwark Playhouse, London, from 20 March to 19 April
