The 10 greatest rock'n'roll myths From strange deaths to blood transfusions and dubious fish-related practices, it's time to debunk the tallest tales
Graeme Thomson
Sunday February 20, 2005
The Observer
1: 'Mama' Cass choking on a sandwich When 'Mama' Cass Elliot died in her London flat in 1974 at the age of 32, a hasty postmortem suggested she had choked on her own vomit while chomping a sandwich in bed. At 5' 5" and 240 pounds, it was easy to believe that - like a female version of Monty Python's Mr Creosote - Elliot had simply gambled on one mouthful too many. Not so. The coroner's report after her death concluded that Cass died of massive heart failure, brought on by obesity and the strains of crash dieting. Though a sandwich may well have been found at her bedside, the autopsy revealed no evidence of food in her trachea. Tragically, it appears she died peckish.
2: Marilyn Manson starring in 'The Wonder Years' This fuels every parent's fear that the most innocuous geek-child can go stone bad. Did the young Brian Warner (aka Mr Manson) play Paul Pfeiffer, goofy pal of Kevin Arnold, in the schmaltzy rites-of passage TV show? 'It's kind of irrelevant whether these rumours are true or not,' quoth Manson. Well actually, Marilyn, it's not irrelevant to Josh Saviano, who really did play Paul Pfeiffer.
3: The Beatles' spliff in Buckingham Palace Sometime after our four young heroes bounced into the Palace in October 1965 to receive their MBEs, John Lennon claimed they'd shared a toke in the loos. Not the most reliable witness - he once claimed he wrote 'Eleanor Rigby' - Lennon later 'fessed up, admitting 'we'd have been far too scared to do it'. McCartney, meanwhile, remembers simply having a 'sly ciggie' with the chaps to calm nerves.
4: Keef's blood transfusion Keen to clean up for a European tour, Richards reportedly replaced his poisoned old claret with an infusion of healthy blood in a Swiss clinic in September 1973. In reality, it was probably only haemodialysis, which filters impurities from the bloodstream. 'Someone asked me how I cleaned up, so I said I had my blood completely changed,' Richards said. 'I was fucking sick of answering that question, so I gave them a story.'
5: Stevie Nicks having cocaine blown up her bum It's tempting to believe Fleetwood Mac's queen bee followed her addiction to such deliciously depraved depths - but sadly, untrue. 'That's absurd,' said Nicks in 2001. 'Maybe it came about because people knew I had such a big hole in my nose. Let's put a belt through my nose, because that's how big the hole is.' So she just talks through her arse, then. Maybe.
6: Robert Johnson's pact with the devil Famously, Johnson sold his soul to the devil in order to play guitar like a demon. You want prima facie evidence? How about 'Me and the Devil Blues', and the fact that young Robert was a poor guitarist whose improvement was remarkable. Actually, he used that little known voodoo technique 'practice', and was tutored by a bluesman called Ike Zimmerman. Not Satan.
7: Jacko and the elephant man Reports surfaced in 1987 that Wacko had offered $50,000 for the remains of the Victorian patient Joseph Merrick, aka the Elephant Man. The offer may have been genuine, but Jackson doesn't own the bones. Merrick's organs were destroyed in an air raid on the Royal London Hospital during the Second World War. Casts of his head, an arm and a foot survived, but were not up for sale.
8: Sid checks in at Heathrow Punk romantics believe that Sid's mum scattered his ashes over Nancy's grave in Philadelphia. It's more likely that Ma Vicious arrived back at Heathrow with his remains. Malcolm McLaren claims she knocked them over in the arrivals lounge; hence the fanciful myth that Sid's essence still circulates, wafting through the air vents and moving among the travellers.
9: Richey Edwards lives Ten years on, Richey's disappearance remains imbued with a Lucan-like mythology by those who love a good mystery. Given the extent of his problems - self-harm, alcoholism, anorexia - and the fact that numerous sightings have amounted to nothing, it's safe to assume he's probably no longer alive, sadly. But don't expect the rumours to evaporate.
10: Led Zep and the mud shark 'A pretty young groupie with red hair was tied to the bed,' claimed Stephen Davis in Hammer of the Gods. 'Led Zeppelin proceeded to stuff pieces of shark into her vagina and rectum.' Not quite. Zep did catch sharks from the window of their hotel, but the pesce in question was actually a red snapper, while the perpetrator was road manager Richard Cole.
Making the law - Graeme Thomson justifies his selection of rock mythologies Sex, death, drugs, sharks, TV, elephants and the devil himself. Nothing sums up the ridiculous circus of rock'n'roll better than the mythology that both nourishes and devours it, vividly illustrating the impossible feats of self destruction and degradation we would have our 'rock gods' vicariously act out on our behalf.
The fact that Bill Wyman is an authority on the thorny questions of mechanical royalties and overseas tax shelters is all well and good but really, we just want to believe that Keef is a vampire. We might grudgingly acknowledge that Ringo Starr made a decent fist of narrating Thomas the Tank Engine, but it doesn't compete with John Lennon (metaphorically) blowing reefer smoke in the Queen's face. As John Ford once said: 'When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.'
In the end, I omitted the Adam and Eve of all rock'n'roll myths: that Paul McCartney died in a car crash in 1966 and has subsequently been played by an impersonator, who was originally employed by The Beatles.
Why did I leave it out? For one, it would take a degree in Beatleology to adequately comprehend the various bewildering permutations; and anyway, it might just be true. Those listening to the bulk of McCartney's output from 1967 onwards (and yes, let's include the pretty tedious Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in that time-frame, as long as we can exclude 'Maybe I'm Amazed') could be forgiven for entertaining a little confusion on the matter.
Similarly, the tale of Marianne Faithfull and the Mars Bar is so well worn as to be practically dull. I think you'll find Led Zeppelin, or their road manager at least, had a slightly more lewdly imaginative take on that particular format. Or did he?
http://observer.guardian.co.uk/omm/story/0,13887,1415153,00.html
