Gary Moore - The Lone Guitarist

Gary Moore is definitely on my personal list of the top five guitarists who had the most influence on me, right up there with Jimi Hendrix, Eddie Van Halen, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Michael Schenker. He literally blew my mind from the first minute I heard him

(Kirk Hammett)

The most powerful, genuine, authentic blues-rock guitarist of his era

(Jack Bruce)

Gary opened the road wide for me, and for so many other blues guitarists. He was a legend, a titan of music and a truly kind man

(Joe Bonamassa)

Growing Up in Belfast

February 1921. James Craig succeeds Edward Carson at the helm of the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP). His first efforts as party leader are aimed at convincing the British government to grant home rule, so as to counter the increasingly bold moves of Catholic republicans on the Irish chessboard. "A sacrifice in the name of peace", a parliament in Belfast that no one truly wants. During the first general election in Northern Ireland, Craig is elected to the new Northern Ireland House of Commons, becoming prime minister and a fierce champion of a Protestant parliament for a Protestant people. Not a good sign for the Catholic community, tied to the Republic and to the Sinn Féin party. Discriminatory measures are thus put in place by the unionist movement, "unintentionally" in charge in Belfast, such as granting favors to certain businesses in exchange for votes. Tension grows exponentially over the years, while the world looks at Northern Ireland as a grim, cold and divided place.

Against this backdrop, on 4 April 1952, Robert William Gary Moore is born into a Protestant family in East Belfast, the area most loyal to the English crown. His mother, Winnie Gallagher, is one of five children born to Margaret and Robert, who works at Harland & Wolff, among the countless engineers who helped build the infamous Titanic. Money is not an issue for the Moore family, thanks also to the irresistible entrepreneurial spirit of Gary's father, Robert "Bobby". From selling newspapers and books to organizing popular music concerts at the Queen's Hall, Bobby Moore is a jack-of-all-trades. But the apparent prosperity is only a facade. Gary's parents married in December 1951 only because Winnie was pregnant with her first child, and shortly after moved in with his parents. But Bobby's mother strongly disapproves of a marriage forced by common decency, so she throws Winnie out of the house, forcing her to move to 9 Frome Street to live with her sister Phylis, without a penny to her name.

Young Gary still grows up showered with affection, often taken by his grandfather Robert to watch football matches at the stadium. An amateur singer, Robert teaches his grandson how to play the harmonica. A few years later, Bobby and Winnie manage to get back together, moving to the center of Summerhill Avenue. Young Gary is enrolled at Strandtown Primary School, where he suffers several bouts of bullying because of his physical appearance, chubby and unattractive. These are the first hard times for young Moore, constantly scolded by his teachers and with disastrous report cards, especially for behavior.

Things are no better at home, where his father Bobby has a domineering and often violent temper towards his wife. His relationship with his father is fraught, torn between rigidity and encouragement, especially when it comes to singing in public during one of the many musical evenings at the Queen's Hall. One day, coming home from work, Bobby takes his son aside and asks him if he wants to learn to play guitar, even building him an acoustic model out of a Framus body. A huge instrument for a boy not yet ten years old. The first song he learns to play is "Wonderful Land" by The Shadows, without even trying too hard. His tutor scolds him, "it's all wrong", so without a second thought he decides to teach himself.

A blinding light suddenly switches on inside Gary: playing that guitar, so huge compared to his size, is all that matters in life. So he starts playing non-stop, outdoors, songs by Elvis Presley, accompanied by his bassist friend David Fletcher. His talent is immediately crystal clear, captivating small crowds of classmates with his repertoire of the King and the Everly Brothers. One of his very first public performances comes during the Protestant celebrations on July 12th, in honour of William of Orange, the pretender to the English throne who defeated the Catholic King James II in 1690.

It's 1964. At the age of twelve, Gary moves up to Ashfield Boys' High School. His grades don't improve in the slightest - he hates maths, and even hates studying music. He just wants to play, nothing else. The bullying over his looks hasn't stopped, nor have the teachers' shouts: "Gary, what are you staring at? Thinking about becoming a pop star with a huge red guitar?" Maybe not right then, but there doesn't seem to be any other destiny for a chubby kid who can replicate Segovia by ear on first listen. So Bobby decides to buy him a new guitar, a Lucky Seven Fender Squire with strings so thick they look like cables.

For Gary, the time has come to get serious - he's more than ready for his first band, The Beat Boys. On the Northern Irish music scene in the mid-60s, radio doesn't drive the charts, the record industry is light years behind, and most bands are practically orchestras playing pop and country. The so-called showbands don't pay much for local musicians, who mostly just play in pubs and the many halls, like the one run by Bobby Moore. The kids growing up in Belfast, however, are heading in a completely different direction, looking to the States (Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent) or, even more, to Liverpool, home of the Beatles. Bill Downey, two years older than Gary, thinks the same way, and has just got himself a Hofner guitar to start rehearsing with him every weekend. Bassist Bertie Thompson joins the two of them, followed by drummer Robert Wilkinson, both novice musicians. Ever encouraging towards his son, Bobby buys a Vox AC30 amp that everyone can plug into, while Gary takes charge of the group, starting to rehearse Beatles songs like "She Loves You". The Beat Boys perform regularly at the usual Queen's Hall, once or twice a week, eventually playing the Troxy cinema in front of almost a thousand people, with hundreds of screaming girls when they launch into "I Can't Get No Satisfaction".

With his lively entrepreneurial spirit, Bobby Moore "appoints" himself manager and promoter of the group, dressing the four lads in white trousers and orange t-shirts, since uniforms are all the rage among young English bands. Barney Crothers also joins The Beat Boys, with his sexy voice and Elvis-style haircut, driving the already overheated girls even wilder. This scrappy local boy band plays together until early 1966, when Gary decides it's better to shut himself away at home and improve on his instrument, almost suddenly losing interest in live shows. Bill Downey, who has meanwhile joined The Spartans, has to take part in a music contest with his new band, and knows that his chances of winning would rise considerably with young Moore on board. With Brian Smith on drums, Brian Crothers on bass and singer Pete McLelland, The Spartans change their name to The Barons. Meanwhile, Gary has managed to convince his father to buy him an extremely expensive Fender Telecaster, an instrument almost never seen in the hands of a kid in a Northern Irish teen band.

A crucial moment in Gary's early artistic life comes in the summer of 1966, when the seminal "Blues Breakers With Eric Clapton" - also known as the "Beano Album" - is released on the Deram label, the record that will turn the guitarist from Ripley into "God". It's the first embrace British blues throws towards Gary from afar, almost a "divine" sign indeed: Eric Clapton started out in the Yardbirds with exactly a Fender Telecaster run through a Vox amp. "Eric turned my generation on to the blues more than anyone else," Moore would later say in an interview.

Having got hold of the record from a friend, Gary barely leaves the house anymore, obsessed with the electric sound of Clapton's guitar on the ringing intro of "All Your Love". "The end of my adolescence." Following the example of his new idol - who forms Cream and becomes its undisputed leader despite his young age - Gary wants The Barons to drop their stale Beatles-style pop and turn towards British blues. At the tender age of just 15, Moore is already a phenomenon, drawing disbelieving applause with his solos. But the adventure with The Barons is, inevitably, too short-lived, ending in the summer of 1967.

Gary spends the hottest months of the year on the coast at Millisle, finding a small temporary job at the beach funfair to start earning a bit of pocket money. It's here that he first meets the Hunter family: Ian and his cousin Billy, who play guitar and bass respectively in the band The Suburbans. The group plays a bit of everything, from pop covers to country & western, while Gary couldn't care less. Invited up to play, once he's on stage it's obvious to everyone that his guitar is the best thing about the whole show. It isn't long before he suggests to Billy that they play as a trio, like Cream, since there's really no need for a second lead guitarist.

The Suburbans become Life after the departure of singer Reggie Carson, who has no intention of straying from pop. The new incarnation of the band plays a couple of clubs along the coast, adding songs like "Beck's Boogie", "Hey Joe" and "Crossroads" to the set. "He was the only guitarist I knew who could play Hendrix," Billy Hunter would say. "The greatest guitarist in Northern Ireland," reads the slogan on the posters for local gigs. It's a happy time, right in the thick of adolescence, drinking wine on the beach with Ian and Billy, far from the greyness and tensions of Belfast. But all good times come to an end, and so the moment comes to leave Life and head back to the city, after a few post-gig scuffles and some Pete Townshend-style stage-smashing incidents.

Back in Belfast, Moore gets in touch with schoolmates Dave Finlay (drums) and Colin Martin (bass) to form a proper Cream-style trio. The two agree without hesitation, forming Platform Three and starting to play the city's various clubs. The new group wins a local music contest and is approached by manager Bill Allen, impressed by everyone's musicianship. Allen aims high and lands the move: getting them booked at the most prestigious venue in town, the Maritime Hotel, where Van Morrison had played with Them a few years earlier. Housed in a former police station, the Maritime Hotel is Ireland's answer to Liverpool's Cavern, increasingly popular with young blues fans. It's here that Moore meets, for the first time, another young prodigy from Cork, Rory Gallagher, as Allen tells them both: "You two are going to be stars."

With Brush: Skid Row

At the age of 16, Gary Moore decides it's time to make a decisive move and leave behind his never-beloved studies. So he needs to find a job, first in home deliveries, then in the British Rail warehouses. His time with Platform Three comes to an abrupt end when Dave and Colin tell him they'd rather stick with their schoolbooks. Dad Bobby gives him one last piece of advice: leave Belfast and chase a dream. One day, out of nowhere, a touring band called The Method offer him the vacant lead guitarist spot, and more importantly, a one-way ride to Dublin. The Method started out as a blues and soul band with a fairly traditional approach to both genres. First Clapton, then Gallagher, make it clear to songwriter Dave Lewis that a change of direction is needed, energising the sound by bringing in a powerful, talented guitarist. Lewis already knows Gary - they'd toyed unsuccessfully with the idea of playing together - before being badly hurt in a car accident that keeps him out of action for a long time. The rest of The Method want to carry on, since there are several gigs to honour, including an Irish tour whose main stops include a show at Dublin's Club A Go Go.

Unlike the showbands of Belfast and its surroundings, Dublin's music scene is bursting with life and alternative genres. The hub is the area around O'Connell Street, home to venues like Flamingo, Apartment, 72 Club and indeed Club A Go Go, which usually books harder-edged acts. Among them is The Method, with Gary Moore now standing in for Dave Lewis. When Frank Murray, roadie for local band Skid Row, comes up to the stage, he immediately realises that such an exciting sound isn't coming from Lewis's usual guitar, but from a long-haired kid who turns his back to the crowd to play, glued to his beloved amplifier. After the show, Murray rushes over to Brush and warns him: "There's a kid at the Go Go, and when the gig's over, we need to go take a look at him."

Brush is Brendan Shiels, born in Dublin in 1946, seemingly destined for a future as a professional footballer. At eighteen, in 1964, he signs his first contract with Bohemians, but almost by chance ends up listening to an Oscar Peterson record called "Night Train", featuring bassist Ray Brown. It's love at first sight, the classic kind: Brendan decides he'll never kick a ball again in his life, devoted now to the sound of the bass. So Shiels focuses on music, joining several country & western outfits before moving into soul with The Uptown Band, managed by banker Ted Carroll. One of the first managers to push beat groups in the Dublin area, Carroll is fired by his own proteges over old grudges. So the manager asks Brush if he wants to follow him and start a band of his own, on a completely different sonic path. Shiels agrees and first contacts an old guitarist friend of his, Bernie Cheevers, then singer Peter Adler and drummer Noel Bridgeman, his girlfriend's neighbour. Adler is quickly replaced on vocals by the flamboyant, charismatic Philip Parris Lynott, born in 1949 from the brief love affair between Philomena, an Irish girl, and Cecil Parris, who had arrived in Europe from Guyana. Left with his maternal grandparents, Philip suffers no prejudice from being mixed-race at school, always showing great swagger and an alternative spirit as a fan of music like that of Cream and Hendrix. Having joined Black Eagles as a singer, Lynott makes a name for himself in Dublin's various clubs, before finding himself at a loose end in the summer of 1967. While pondering his future, he's approached by none other than Brush, who asks him to sing "Hey Joe".

Under the name Skid Row - after saxophonist Alan Skidmore, hired for the "Beano album" - Brush and co. start rehearsing in September 1967, with a beat repertoire running from Eric Burdon through the Beatles and on to Hendrix. Helped by a solid run of live shows, the group builds a big following within a few months, until Cheevers' sudden departure, as he decides to pursue his career at Guinness instead. When roadie Frank Murray rushes over to talk about this mysterious kid playing at Club A Go Go, the timing couldn't be better. Brush is stunned listening to a sixteen-year-old play the whole of Blues Breakers note for note - there's no way he can let Gary and his guitar slip away. Moore, however, has very clear ideas: he wants to play the blues, and Skid Row play beat. At first he turns down the offer, even though he knows his time in The Method will be short-lived and he has no intention of going back to Belfast. His family wants him home, so Gary decides to ask Bill Allen for advice: the manager is sceptical, but knows perfectly well that the Belfast scene is too small for him. It's Shiels who makes the final move, meeting Bobby Moore and promising he'll personally look after young Gary.

With Moore on guitar, Skid Row can make the definitive leap in quality, abandoning plain beat music and covers of other people's songs. The rise of bands like Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience leads Brush and Phil to start working on original songs, knowing they now have another virtuoso of the instrument at their disposal. The first song rehearsed in the makeshift studio at Dublin's Television Club is "Photograph Man", riding the psychedelic wave of Sgt. Pepper's. Manager Ted Carroll plays it for Apple Records and gets a flat rejection. Brush brings it to the attention of Philip Raymond Solomon - who manages groups like Them and The Dubliners - again without success. While the first single never sees the light of day, the second attempt, "New Faces, Old Places", is picked up by the Song label, run by lawyer Joe Coughlan together with musician Donal Lunny. The track, a sweet Lynott vocal over a pastoral folk fingerpicking line in Buffalo Springfield style, is backed on the B-side by "Misdemeanour Dream Felicity", Gary's first composition, playing his 12-string in a disorienting 5/4 beat-jazz groove.

The single fails to tickle the charts, but there's a more pressing problem: Phil has throat trouble and needs surgery. Brush realizes there's no other option: if they want to compete with Cream, he has to push his friend Lynott out. Phil is devastated, but Shiels offers to teach him bass, allowing him to get back on his feet almost immediately with his own band, Orphanage.

Thrilled with his new life in Dublin, Gary can't say the same about his finances: there's plenty of work with Skid Row, but the 15 pounds a week agreed with Brush never seem to materialize. Moore scrapes by living with Lynott and Johnny Duhan, lead singer of Granny's Intentions, a band formed as a soul outfit in 1965 before becoming a key player in the psychedelic revolution thanks to a push from Who manager Kit Lambert. Penniless, Moore is forced to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, while Phil makes him breakfast every morning.

In mid-1969, Granny's Intentions are working on their debut album, "Honest Injun", when guitarist John Hockedy suddenly leaves the band. Gary steps in as a temporary replacement, contributing to eight of the eleven total tracks, starting with the country ballad "We Both Need to Know". Moore's extreme versatility allows the Limerick band to wrap up the sessions in style ahead of the album's release in March 1970, spanning a psychedelic beat somewhere between the Who and Bob Dylan ("Good Eye"), a waltz caught between western and swing ("Susan Of The Country"), and pure blues numbers ("Fourthskin Blues"). At just 17, and despite only guesting on his first album, Moore embroiders the music like few others, turning a fine piece of psych-folk like "Rise Then Fall" into an extraordinary, dark elegy.

1969 moves fast in Dublin, a city teeming with bands caught between folk and psychedelia of varying intensity. Moore becomes increasingly well known around town, taking his first forays into psychedelic drugs and losing his virginity to his first girlfriend, Sylvia. By December, Skid Row have effectively become Ireland's most popular band, opening a Fleetwood Mac show at Dublin's National Stadium. Gary's performance is phenomenal, so much so that Peter Green - his new idol - asks to meet him at his hotel for a private jam that lasts until six in the morning. "He's the best guitarist I've ever played with," Green would later say in an interview, sending Moore over the moon. The encounter with Green proves a boon for the whole band, as the English guitarist suggests to Fleetwood Mac's manager, Clifford Davis, that he sign Skid Row to CBS. Davis sends his producer Mike Smith to Dublin - a man behind numerous chart hits, but also infamous as the one who turned down the Beatles after their 1962 Decca audition. CBS wants to record some demo tracks with the band, hoping to overcome the commercial flop of their singles for Song - the latest being the soul-beat "Saturday Morning Man" and the sinuous pop-jazz of "Mervyn Aldridge" - and, naturally, to bank on Gary's ever-growing talent.

In April 1970 comes the two-part single "Sandy's Gone", a ballad poised between country and The Band-style rock, featuring Moore's first great solo on a guitar that practically weeps. Once the sessions with Smith wrap up, CBS releases the "Skid Row" record in May, but the band immediately orders all copies withdrawn, wanting to rework the songs and re-record them with more care.

If Gary Moore left Belfast to chase a career as a professional musician, Skid Row need to leave Ireland if they want to make the leap forward with a debut album on the horizon. The band thus relocates to London, where they play the Roundhouse while working tirelessly on reworking the tracks already recorded with Smith in Dublin. Produced by Clifford Davis himself, Skid comes out in October 1970 and hits the mark, climbing into the UK Top 30 in no time, boosted in particular by famed DJ John Peel. The frantic "Mad Dog Woman" is the manifesto of this new direction, wrapped around syncopated bass lines, stuttering vocals and Moore's new guitar-hero approach, his playing sped up at Shiels's insistence. The main reference point is obviously the heavy sound of Cream, with Brush mimicking Jack Bruce's tone on "Virgo's Daughter", while Gary indulges in one of his beloved blues scales on the galloping "Heading Home Again". Years later, Moore himself would criticize the decision to re-record the demos cut with Smith, pointing to an excessive, not-so-well-hidden frenzy in hard-blues tracks like "An Awful Lot Of Woman".

But Skid Row have strength to spare, well aware of being the only Irish trio answering back to the great bands of Albion. The guitar scream at the end of "Unco-Up Showband Blues" is impossible to ignore, while the galloping "For Those Who Do" plays out like a wild jam in total sync with bass and drums. If the record isn't perfect - going by Moore's own judgment - it's precisely because of a certain electric frenzy that can be distracting at times ("After I Am Gone"), but tracks like the eclectic "The Man Who Never Was" and Moore's first solo composition, the sprawling "Felicity", mark the baptism by fire of the young Northern Irish talent.

Spurred on by Peel, Skid Row play for the BBC and then tour clubs and colleges across the UK. Next come five dates in Denmark supporting Canned Heat, arranged by CBS to celebrate the album's entry into the local Music Week chart. But the real big news is the band's imminent arrival in the United States, paired by Clifford Davis with Fleetwood Mac. For the three Irish lads, it's a dream come true: on a budget of five dollars a day, awash in alcohol and drugs, the trio kicks things off with a five-night residency at the famed Whisky A Go Go in Los Angeles, alongside soul-funk outfit Pollution. At the Fillmore West in San Francisco, they share the bill with Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention. Next up, Chicago with Ten Years After, and Detroit with the Allman Brothers and the Stooges.

More than success, the American tour is full of marijuana, which leads Moore to suffer several panic attacks. Brush, notoriously devoted to sobriety, is furious. The final show at the Fillmore East in New York is cancelled, and the band flies home from Boston. On December 26, 1970, Boxing Day, Skid Row play Belfast, one of Gary's rare homecomings since leaving for Dublin with the Method. Walking through the door of his home on Castleview Road, Moore is in shock: he discovers his father is in hospital being treated for an increasingly severe drinking problem, which has in the meantime caused a definitive split with Winnie, who has moved in with her sister Ellen along with the other children. As if that weren't enough, another surprise soon follows: Sylvia is four months pregnant.

At the dawn of 1971, Gary and Sylvia move into a new flat in East London with Paul Scully and Frank Murray - Skid Row's two roadies - to prepare for the birth of little Saoirse, due in May. But these months also call for preparing something else important: the trio's second record, once again overseen by Clifford Davis alongside sound engineer Martin Birch, who over the years worked with Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden and Rainbow.

Titled 34 Hours because it was recorded in exactly 34 hours, the album comes out in the summer and features longer tracks that in some ways push even further the sonic frenzy already present on Skid. Starting with the nearly ten minutes of "Night Of The Warm Witch", which opens with a progressive streak before launching into a whirlwind of hard-blues, complete with ragged vocalizing and a red-hot rhythm section. That Shiels doesn't give a damn about the commercial fortunes of his sound is clear: compositions like "First Thing In The Morning" play out like sketches rattled off at breakneck speed in under two minutes, while "Mar" runs past the six-minute mark, with Moore's stunning guitar veering toward a ballad format somewhere between country and rock.

Overall, 34 Hours offers up more fully improvised jams than actual songs, such as the eight-plus minutes of "Go, I'm Never Gonna Let You", which blends a "symphonic" flair into the mix of riffs and Moore's first wah-wah effects, drawing on Birch's experience with bands like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple. After a skippable new country number ("Lonesome Still"), the thunderous closer "Love Story" unfolds in no fewer than four parts spread across five minutes.

The record is well received by critics, who nonetheless can't ignore a pervasive sense of strangeness, abrasiveness and confusion in the band's sound. Not necessarily a bad thing - Skid Row couldn't care less about pleasing everyone - but 34 Hours isn't an easy listen for all, and indeed it sells very poorly.

After the release of the second album, the band embarks on a new North American tour starting in Canada, where they headline, before moving on to the West Coast and arriving once again at the Whisky A Go Go. At the historic LA venue, the likes of Rod Stewart, Robert Plant and John Bonham can be spotted among the crowd, and they even hop on stage for an impromptu jam: Skid Row playing with Led Zeppelin! But it's all for show, since CBS doesn't pay for hotels and has provided no real support in terms of commercial promotion. Several dates are suddenly cancelled due to poor ticket sales. All that free time naturally leads Gary to use more and more drugs, sparking the fury of Brush, who by now is seen as something of a dictator within the trio.

Back in London, the band nevertheless gets to work on a third album, recording seven tracks that will never see the light of day. The problem is clear, so much so that Brush himself would admit it years later: too many influences, too much experimentation, no clear direction. On top of that, the relationship between Shiels and Moore grows ever more strained, as Gary wrestles inwardly with a whirlwind of thoughts and demons. In December 1971, Gary makes his final decision, first discussing it with a stunned Bridgeman. The confrontation with Shiels follows, who reluctantly accepts the departure of his star guitarist, despite their personal friction. Not even twenty years old, Moore is ready for the big leap.

The Gary Moore Band

Having left Skid Row, Moore is secretly approached by Clifford Davis, who offers him a monster advance of almost 30,000 pounds to form a band of his own. Gary returns to Dublin to recruit new musicians, though he has already picked a second guitarist in the United States, Chuck Carpenter, a devotee of the Allman Brothers' sound and its twin-guitar-hero approach. On Phil Lynott's recommendation, Moore hires Belfast drummer Pearse Kelly, followed by bassist Sam Cook, an old childhood friend. To gel the band together and keep them away from the city's pubs, Clifford Davis decides to send them off to the remote Irish countryside, to County Mayo, before bringing them back to London and setting off in early 1972 for a first tour of Germany, with keyboardist Jan Schelhaas added to the lineup.

Big problems emerge straight away: Carpenter has visa trouble and is “invited” by immigration officials to head back to the States, while Sam Cook fails to convince Moore himself. Guitarist Nick Pickett is hired as a temporary replacement, then himself replaced by Philip Donnelly – who has toured with Donovan – alongside new bassist Frank Boylan. With this lineup, recording sessions begin for a debut album under the name Gary Moore Band, in a bid (immediately successful) to land a deal with Cbs. In December 1972 the label buys them a batch of new instruments, including a Hammond organ and a new amplifier for Gary.

Rehearsals take place at Ginger Johnson's Iroko Club in London, in exhausting sessions run by Moore at the band's helm. The final recording of the album is again overseen by Martin Birch at George Martin's Air Studios, but tension rises sharply as Gary's dictatorial approach becomes increasingly hard to stomach. When Grinding Stone is released in March 1973, there's an unpleasant surprise waiting for his bandmates: the lineup credits list a new bassist, John Curtis, who hasn't played a single note, while Donnelly, Schelhaas and Boylan are credited merely as ‘contributors’.

Starting with the sprawling instrumental jam of over nine minutes on the title track, the sound of Grinding Stone is only slightly more defined than what was heard with Skid Row. Moore is now free to paint supersonic boogie runs in the style of Allman, in a mix of blues and Southern rock (“Time To Heal”) that's decidedly eclectic but perhaps not especially original. Fresher and airier is the heartfelt soul ballad “Sail Across The Mountain”, which brings out a more intense, reflective side of Gary's guitar playing. There's still a certain underlying confusion, though, as if Moore hadn't yet settled on which direction to take: from the progressive organ of the short, unfinished “The Energy Dance” to the seventeen-minute-plus marathon “Spirit”, which returns to the double-guitar attack in a sonic saraband of Santana-style tribal rhythms, lingering prog flourishes, jazz scales and hard-blues flare-ups. Perhaps the manifesto of the early solo Gary Moore, a disciple of fusion music preaching to a small congregation of the faithful.

Grinding Stone receives a lukewarm critical reception: some reviewers highlight its extreme eclecticism, while others point to a certain confusion, as when “Boogie My Way Back Home” opens with a country ditty only to end up as a plain boogie-blues number, after overflowing rivers of notes.

The internal disputes following the release of Grinding Stone don't let up. Clifford Davis has no budget for the Gary Moore Band and wants them to perform as a trio for the upcoming tour to promote the album, which in any case sells next to nothing. Gary is thus forced to start again from scratch, after barely one record, with bassist John Curtis and keyboardist Dave “Mojo” Lennox, but above all without Clifford Davis, who never really provided any real financial or promotional support. The new agent is John Sherry, who immediately sets up a first tour of Germany, where the usual rivers of alcohol and drugs flow, along with increasingly frequent panic attacks. Complicating matters further is an already worn-out relationship with Sylvia and a couple of infidelities during various shows around Europe.

By summer 1973 the Gary Moore Band still hasn't managed to break through, earning an average of little more than sixty pounds a night. On top of that, Gary seems to prefer the guest appearances offered by Thin Lizzy at the Marquee in London, before helping them finish a tour following the traumatic departure of their guitarist Eric Bell. Led by his close friend Phil Lynott, Thin Lizzy have stormed the British charts with their version of the traditional ballad “Whiskey In The Jar”, before appearing on the famous Top of the Pops programme in early 1973.

After the September release of the new album “Vagabonds Of The Western World”, the band sets off on a new tour, which includes the episode at Queen's University in Belfast where Eric Bell storms off stage, exasperated by disagreements over the sonic direction to pursue going forward. Lynott calls Moore in to replace him and finish the tour, temporarily putting the Gary Moore Band project on ice.

The stint with Thin Lizzy is brief, however, just long enough to record a handful of tracks, including the sinuous soul ballad “Still In Love With You”, included on the band's fourth album, “Nightlife”. Moore leaves in April 1974, unable to find common ground with Phil, who rightly wants full control over his own creation.

Colosseum II

A native of Woolwich, in south-east London, Philip John Albert “Jon” Hiseman has been active since the mid-1960s, when Gary Moore was barely ten years old. In 1966 he replaced a prodigy like Ginger Baker on drums in the Graham Bond Organisation, leaving two years later to play with John Mayall on the album “Bare Wires”. In spring 1968 Hiseman joined English saxophonist Dick Heckstall-Smith to form a new band, Colosseum. Starting with the debut album “Those Who Are About To Die Salute You” (1969), the group established itself as a cornerstone of the fusion between jazz, rock and blues, achieving huge success. After the release of the double album “Colosseum Live” (1971), the weight of fame became so heavy that it led to a sudden split, when guitarist Clem Clempson joined Humble Pie to replace Peter Frampton. Hiseman then decided to form a new band, Tempest, with bassist Mark Clarke and fusion-jazz phenomenon Allan Holdsworth. After releasing two albums – “Jon Hiseman's Tempest” and “Living In Fear” – Tempest split up in May 1974 due to various personal issues among the members, as well as a lack of originality on the second record. The timing couldn't be more perfect: Hiseman on the hunt for a new project, Moore free of Thin Lizzy, though still caught up in panic attacks, heavy drinking binges and pub brawls. The drummer sends him a telegram, to gauge his interest in possibly forming a new band.

Gary has already met Hiseman backstage after a Tempest concert at the Marquee in spring 1974, shortly before the band split. Moore is already drawn to the idea of working with Jon, who invites him to tour with the United Jazz and Rock Ensemble (UJRE). Surrounded by illustrious musicians, Gary grows anxious and drinks heavily, sending Hiseman into a rage, but his performance at the Southern German Broadcasting studios wins everyone over. The truth is that Jon falls for Moore from the very first notes, convinced that his guitar playing is far more versatile than Clapton's. The combination of the two talents promises to be explosive, as Gary himself will tell Nme magazine: it's like pairing the instrumental prowess of the Mahavishnu Orchestra with the rock vocal style of Zeppelin. Initially called Ghosts, the new band starts from nothing, relying solely on a loan of about 7,000 pounds secured by Hiseman through a risky mortgage on his own house. Moore is paid a mere 10 pounds a week, as the first rehearsals begin in a makeshift studio in east London. Scottish singer Mike Starrs, who had arrived in the English capital in the mid-1960s without finding much success, is recruited as lead vocalist. The next big move comes in spring 1975, when the phenomenal Don Airey takes his seat at the keyboards, having just left Cozy Powell's Hammer. Bassist Neil Murray arrives with him.

Weighed down by debts and the mortgage on his house, Hiseman decides it's time to get serious. He contacts Gerry Bron, former manager of his Colosseum, offering him the job of promoting Ghosts and landing a record deal. Bron agrees but orders Jon to change the band's name for better publicity purposes. Reluctantly, Hiseman contacts his old bandmates and asks their permission to use the name Colosseum. In summer 1975 recording sessions can finally begin at the Roundhouse Studios, producing the first demo recordings, including a lengthy choral version of Graham Bond's “Walking In The Park” and “Gary's Lament”, featuring the slow unfolding of Moore's guitar in a progressive interlude between jazz architecture and blues notes. It is, in effect, the sonic manifesto of Colosseum II, who release Strange New Flesh on Bron's label, Bronze, in April 1976.

Produced by Hiseman himself, the album opens with the progressive instrumental “Dark Side Of The Moog”, a tribute to Pink Floyd built on an irresistible synergy between Hammond and minimoog riffs, driving drums and fast, aggressive guitar. What follows is an almost disorienting change of direction, towards a more soul-inflected, radio-friendly sound on the version of “Down To You” (Joni Mitchell), carried by Mike Starrs' smooth vocals. The band then launches into “Gemini And Leo”, a funky groove led by Murray's bass, probably made heavier by the vocal flourishes. Moore's guitar swings towards more classic rock territory on “Secret Places”, while turning ethereal and jazzy on the lengthy “On Second Thoughts”. The album closes with a Canterbury-style drum solo that opens the epic “Winds”, orchestrated by a frenetic rhythm section and ending in a fierce duel between mini-moog and wah-wah.

Immediately after its release, some critics describe the debut as “exuberant and imaginative”, while others note a disconnect between ideas and stylistic approaches. The truth perhaps lies in the classic middle ground: an album caught between technical grandeur and limited commercial appeal, whose poor chart performance leaves Bron with more than a few doubts about the investment he had just made in Colosseum II.

Mike Starrs' vocal performance doesn't sit well at all with the top brass at Gerry Bron's agency, who find it too close to the sound of countless pub singers. Hiseman is therefore handed a blunt ultimatum: get rid of Starrs or leave the management company. The last show with the Scottish singer and bassist Neil Murray - also shown the door around the same time - takes place on 26 June 1976 at Guildford Civic Hall. Jon tells the two that the band is breaking up, while, to complete the rhythm section, John Mole is swiftly recruited, discovered by Jon's wife, Barbara Thompson, in a London club. The idea is to carry on as a four-piece instrumental outfit, with Moore handling vocals whenever needed. Bron hires producer Monty Babson and gives Colosseum II a budget of £60,000 for two more albums, to be recorded at Morgan Studios.

The second album is released in early 1977 under the title Electric Savage, opening with a Moore composition ("Put It This Way") that whips the listener with a hard-rock-style riff. After Starrs' forced departure, the band's fusion-instrumental core can fly more freely, giving the group a sharper, more coherent identity. The Latin percussion of "All Skin And Bone" opens up boundless vistas for Gary's guitar, soft and sinuous on the following ballad "Rivers". The differences from the first record are clear, since both rocker-style vocalising and more forceful bass lines are entirely absent, in favour of bolder experimentation, as on the futuristic "The Scorch", built on a hypnotic mini-moog line over which Moore embroiders hard-blues chords. Credited to Hiseman and Moore, "Desperado" is a gallop in pure fusion style, in the vein of some Brand X compositions, while the closing "Am I" and "Intergalactic Strut" are written by keyboardist Don Airey, blending jazz melodies with harder percussion.

In January 1977 Gary receives an offer to temporarily rejoin Thin Lizzy, who are forced to replace guitarist Brian Robertson, knocked out of action after a furious brawl in an English pub. Hiseman tries to keep Moore, since Electric Savage is doing better than expected and needs to be taken on tour. Loyal to his old friendship with Lynott, Gary accepts, but at the same time promises Jon he'll soon return to Colosseum II. When he comes back to base, there's no tour on the cards - instead there's an offer too good to refuse from composer Andrew Lloyd Webber, who is working with his brother Julian on the project Variations, a suite based on the original theme by Italian violinist Niccolò Paganini, "24 Capricci". Webber needs a band, and when he hears Electric Savage he realises he's found it. He calls Jon and offers Colosseum II about ten days in the studio, very well paid.

Released in January 1978, Variations achieves unexpected success in the UK, reaching number two on the charts. The album's sales take the band on tour right after its release, while Moore is once again terrified at the thought of playing with people who can actually read sheet music.

Not at all discouraged by the poor commercial performance of Electric Savage, Colosseum II part ways with Webber and in the summer of 1977 get to work on their third record. Shortly after comes War Dance, which doubles down on the new hyper-instrumental direction starting with the architecture - somewhere between prog and medieval music - built into the title track. Airey's keyboard work, together with Moore's riffs and Hiseman's decomposed drumming, produces what is by now a sonic trademark, finely intellectual on its way toward fusion, but a tough listen for the average ear. On "Major Keys" the funky bass returns to get feet tapping, interspersed with almost metaphysical licks from Moore's guitar, while "Castles" is another romantic soul-tinged ballad.

The album returns to full throttle on the fusion tracks with "Fighting Back" (one of the best guitar-keyboard pairings in the whole discography) and "The Inquisition", which includes acoustic passages over an Andalusian rhythm. The most complex composition on the album is "Star Maiden/Mysterioso/Quasar", a mini-suite with a melodic start and a pyrotechnic finale in a wild instrumental saraband.

The last track recorded on War Dance, "Last Exit", proves prophetic: in the summer of 1978 Gary Moore receives a third call from Thin Lizzy, probably the last train worth catching. Hiseman senses the danger and calls a meeting at the offices of MCA, which controls Gary Bron's Bronze, admitting he has by now lost faith due to the band's lack of commercial success. A paradox for four of the finest musicians the UK has to offer. It's probably a matter of promotional support, or music too cerebral for its own good: Colosseum II never managed to play in front of more than five hundred people, despite delivering their best work live. Timing then deals them another cruel blow, since we're now at the end of the 1970s, and musical tastes are dominated first by punk and then by new wave.

With Phil: Thin Lizzy

Summer 1978. Crushed by their own talent, Colosseum II disband after the release of their third album. In August, Phil Lynott contacts Moore yet again, convinced there's no alternative following the traumatic exit of Scotsman Brian Robertson, amid artistic clashes and alcohol-fuelled breakdowns. Things need to move fast, since the band's first Australian tour is about to start, in support of their eighth album, Bad Reputation, produced by guru Tony Visconti. Moore is inclined to accept, but asks Phil for full membership in Lizzy, with an equal share to the other members. Lynott instead draws up an employee-style contract, offering him equal pay for future shows and recordings, but with no retroactive effect whatsoever. The deal goes through, but Moore's entry into the band is very gradual: first he helps Phil record his debut solo album, "Solo In Soho", then signs a parallel contract with Monty Babson to start work right away on the album Back On The Streets, alongside up-and-coming sound engineer Chris Tsangarides, who had already worked with Colosseum II on their last two records.

Recording sessions begin in early 1978 at Morgan Studios, with a lineup featuring young drummer Simon Phillips - who had worked with Jack Bruce - Don Airey on keyboards, plus John Mole on bass and Phil Lynott on backing vocals. Opening with the energetic hard rock of the title track, the album confirms the abandonment of the fusion complexity explored in Colosseum II, turning decisively toward a sound with more chart appeal, as in the rework of the sultry "Don't Believe A Word", already recorded by Thin Lizzy.

Gary Moore's new blues guitar thus readies itself for its new adventure in the Irish band, firing off riffs like a machine gun on the hard-and-roll track "Fanatical Fascists", penned by Phil Lynott. Aside from the instrumental interludes "Flight Of The Snow Moose" and "Hurricane" - which revisit Colosseum II's fusion sound with a more streamlined rhythm section - the album is a clear attempt to court the listener after years of experimentation, for instance with the romantic ballad "Song For Donna", dedicated to Gary's new love. While "What Would You Rather Bee Or A Wasp" lets loose over a danceable funk groove, the guitar on "Parisienne Walkways" recalls Santana's on "Samba Pa Ti". The track's mystical intensity hits home and climbs the English and Irish charts in the spring of 1979 - Moore's first commercial hit, suddenly boosting his profile on British soil.

At the end of July, Moore is officially announced as the new Thin Lizzy guitarist, while Phil nurtures the dream of finally having a band capable of filling big venues, the way Queen did. A new American tour is scheduled for September with Ac/Dc, Journey and Reo Speedwagon, but there's a problem: drummer Brian Downey suddenly decides to walk away from it all, overwhelmed by stress, retreating to go fishing in the Irish countryside. The band doesn't lose heart and hires Mark Nauseef, who had already worked with Ronnie James Dio and Ian Gillan. But the US tour is riddled with problems, caused in particular by Lynott's increasingly heavy cocaine addiction, as well as by Moore's dark, hot-tempered nature. Back in London - after a triumphant open-air show near the Sydney Opera House in front of more than 300,000 people - Thin Lizzy play Hammersmith Odeon for their traditional year-end show, the one dedicated to the fans. Gary has another one of his bad moments, a violent fit of rage on stage over some technical guitar problems.

While his relationship with Donna Campbell falls apart over a fling with a young Australian blonde named Lisa, Moore is at work with Lynott on the recording sessions for the new Thin Lizzy album. A great lover of poetry, Phil draws inspiration from James Clarence Mangan's patriotic poem "Róisín Dubh", which becomes the linchpin of the sessions with Tony Visconti at Emi Marconi Studios in Paris. Working on a full Lizzy album for the first time, Gary Moore makes a crucial contribution on lead guitar, helping to offset the self-destructive spiral Lynott is falling into. It's Visconti himself who pulls him aside during one of the sessions: "What the fuck are you doing in this band?"

Released in April 1979, Black Rose: A Rock Legend is effectively the Irish band's swan song, their last classic album before everything fell apart. From the apocalyptic percussion of the opening "Do Anything You Want To", Moore's guitar embroidery lends the Lizzy sound a vital instrumental variety, a bright freshness on first listen that in some ways recalls May's work within Queen. Despite a voice made more nasal by heavy drug abuse, Lynott still leads the hard-rock charge of "Toughest Street In Town" in fine form, one of two songs dealing directly with substance abuse.

Moore's guitar work has never been so direct and primal, fully immersing itself in the Lizzy style with the skill of a band veteran, as on the funky "S & M" or amid the breakneck pace of the pop hit "Waiting For An Alibi". The album slows gently for the tropical ballad "Sarah", dedicated to Lynott's newborn daughter, before hitting the accelerator again with the heavy blues of "Got To Give It Up", a song that, sadly, would prove prophetic for Phil's future.

There's not a moment's pause, with the souped-up rock'n'roll of "Get Out Of Here" (written by Lynott with Midge Ure) and the heavy-pop of "With Love". Closing things out is the epic tour de force "Róisín Dubh (Black Rose): A Rock Legend", a mini-suite reinterpreting several Irish classics – "Danny Boy" and "Shenandoah" above all – amid hard-edged guitar flashes and old-fashioned folk jigs. It's one of Gary Moore's most thrilling performances on one of the best Thin Lizzy albums, which climbs the charts and comes close to the top spot in the UK chart in mid-1979.

The moment has finally arrived for the band to make the decisive leap toward global greatness, with a new tour set to land in the States, then the UK and across Europe. Thin Lizzy are forced to cancel several dates due to a supposed bout of food poisoning suffered by Phil, who is in fact being ravaged by drug abuse. The combination of substances and alcohol becomes increasingly unbearable for Gary, while Lynott can barely stand up on stage and frequently fluffs the lyrics. It's a scenario diametrically opposed to the extreme professionalism he experienced with Hiseman and Colosseum II. The final straw comes on July 4, 1979, in front of 50,000 people at the Oakland Day on the Green festival alongside Journey, UFO and Nazareth. Phil's umpteenth collapse convinces Moore it's time to leave Lizzy for good. He retreats to Hollywood to be with his new partner Lisa, infuriating Lynott, who decides to fire him and carry on the tour as a trio, without a second guitarist. The press is told that Gary is ill, but the truth comes out, prompting the major trade magazines to run big headlines about the worn-out relationship with Phil and the resulting sacking. Interviewed by BBC Radio One, Moore will give his version of events, explaining that he quit mid-tour because the musical standards were no longer acceptable to the fans. The two won't speak to each other for the next four years.

Jet Records

Leaving Lizzy creates no shortage of problems for Moore, since Warner Bros – which distributes both the band's albums and Back On The Streets in the United States – formally demands the removal of Lynott's vocal parts. The same applies to the new single "Spanish Guitar", due out in October 1979, meant to repeat the success of "Parisienne Walkways" with its intense Santana-style textures. Gary then manages to win a lawsuit brought by Lizzy's management, who accuse him of having bought a house in north-west London with a "loan" of around 30,000 pounds. The good news is that his manager Colin Newman manages to secure him a new record deal with Jet Records, home of the one and only Don Arden. Born Harry Levy in 1926, Arden began his career in the '50s as an aspiring comedian, before working as manager for artists such as Gene Vincent, Little Richard, The Animals and The Small Faces. In 1974 he founded his own record label, scoring an immediate hit with Electric Light Orchestra, who sold millions of copies in the US market. When Moore signs to Jet at the end of 1979, his management is entrusted to Arden's daughter Sharon, who has never worked in the rock world before.

Jet Records' goal is to turn Gary Moore into a new Eddie Van Halen, to push him toward global stardom within a scenario that winks at pop-metal. What's needed, though, is a new band, aside from Mark Nauseef on drums, who has already been on board for several months. Tony Newton from Detroit is recruited on bass, while singer Willie Dee takes the mic, chosen for his vocal performances on a Captain Beyond album, a band formed by former members of Iron Butterfly and Deep Purple. The band will be called G-Force, simply because "G" was the nickname Moore's classmates used to call him.

Recorded at Record Plant studios in Los Angeles, the album G-Force comes out in spring 1980, the first on the new Jet Records label. From the very first listen to opener "You", the new sonic direction is crystal clear: Dee's soul-pop vocals ride heavy-metal charges driven by Moore's explosive guitar, with synthesized keyboard textures opening up a sound that would become unmistakable in years to come. "White Knuckles/Rockin' And Rollin'" cranks the decibels up even further with an irresistible souped-up rock'n'roll, a sort of answer to Van Halen's "Eruption", and certainly one of the best things on the record.

While ultra-melodic tracks like "She's Got You" and especially "I Look At You" slide by without leaving much of a mark, the knowing, off-kilter pop of "Hot Gossip" and "The Woman's In Love" sounds more like it came from the pen of Elvis Costello. Ultimately, G-Force is an easy album to criticize, given how insistently it pushes toward chart-friendly pop-metal, likely weighed down by production from Jet that's far too orchestral.

While his relationship with Lisa founders amid jealousy and reckless spending, Moore's management plans a British tour supporting Whitesnake. The shows go well, with none of the Lynott-style chaos. But the success Jet is expecting is slow to arrive, prompting swift second thoughts about the band assembled around Gary. Sharon Levy is increasingly focused on Ozzy Osbourne, having first met him in 1974 and taken over his management five years later, after his ousting from Black Sabbath. At first Sharon's idea is to launch Ozzy's solo career with the help of G-Force, but when Osbourne himself decides to drop everything and go back to his kids, the possibility evaporates. On top of that, the relationship between Moore and Dee has hit rock bottom, given the singer's constant complaints about having to record the poppier material that Sharon favours.

Back in London to figure out his next move, Gary hires new musicians – including old friend Don Airey and bassist Andy Pyle – with the aim of recording a live album with producer Tsangarides. Under the name Gary Moore and Friends, they play two dates at the Marquee in early November 1980.

Straddling the turn of 1981, recording sessions for the new album Dirty Fingers begin at Morgan Studios, with Charlie Huhn (ex-Ted Nugent) on vocals and Tommy Aldridge on drums. There's a major problem: Jet Records is in talks with David Geffen to distribute "Britain's answer to Van Halen" in the United States, presumably unwilling to risk a commercial flop with Moore's band. The former boss of Asylum Records, Geffen has already quickly brought on board Donna Summer – gold record with "The Wanderer" – and John Lennon with "Double Fantasy". G-Force fail to stir Geffen's enthusiasm, the deal falls through, leaving a heavy investment gap to fill. Don Arden's financial situation isn't the best either, so much so that he's soon forced to sell off the publishing rights to his most successful creation, Electric Light Orchestra. Stuck at Morgan Studios with no funds, Moore lends his guitar to various musicians throughout 1981, from Cozy Powell to new friend Jack Bruce. But it's with Greg Lake that he forges a more lasting partnership, contributing to his entire self-titled solo debut album.

Opened by the killer riff of the hard-rock gem "Nuclear Attack", Greg Lake comes out on Chrysalis Records at the end of 1981, breaking with the progressive tradition of his previous work in King Crimson and especially Emerson Lake & Palmer. Lake wants to break free from his signature instrument, steering toward a more aggressive, guitar-hero sound. Moore proves essential in helping him move toward a polished hard-rock sound ("Love You Too Much" and "Retribution Drive"), while also lending his guitar skills to more intense, structured tracks, chief among them the soul-blues "It Hurts" and the intimate folk-pop "Black And Blue". The record ultimately proves enjoyable and flows along without any particular creative peaks, somewhere between a catchy shuffle ("Long Goodbye") and breezy, martial marches with an Irish flavour ("For Those Who Dare").

While Gary is hired for the album's promotional tour, the brief stint with Jet is about to come to an end, as Sharon Levy makes it clear she has no intention of continuing to promote Moore, introducing him instead to manager Steve Barnett, who will go on to make the fortunes of the Northern Irish guitarist.

Rockin' Every Night

Steve Barnett began his career in the music business in 1970, as an agent working for Gerry Bron, alongside bands like Colosseum and Uriah Heep. He then moved to Nems Enterprises, the agency founded by Brian Epstein, before setting up the management company Part Rock with Greg Lake's manager, Stewart Young. When he crosses paths with Gary Moore, Barnett wants to finally secure him a worthy record deal, so he contacts Richard Griffiths at Virgin Music Publishing, who in turn convinces Simon Draper, co-founder of Virgin Records. Initially devoted to progressive rock, Virgin emerged at the dawn of the '80s as the go-to label for pop and new wave, promoting bands like Culture Club, Human League and then Simple Minds. Together with Richard Branson, Draper is on the hunt for more artists for the imminent launch of Ten Records, a sort of sister label set to debut in 1982, ten years after Virgin's founding. At the start of the year, Moore shuts himself away at Air Studios in London with bassist Kenny Aaronson and drummer Bobby Chouinard – both on loan from Billy Squier's band, managed precisely by Part Rock – to record the first demo versions of the tracks that will end up on his debut Virgin Records album.

At the production helm sits Jeff Glixman, already a veteran of working with Kansas since the mid-'70s. Glixman isn't satisfied with the demo recordings, apart from the epic "End Of The World", which unleashes an opening solo of over two minutes before launching into a heavy charge powered by Jack Bruce's unmistakable voice. For the new studio sessions, Ian Paice is brought in on drums, joined in the rhythm section by Neil Murray on bass, freshly released from Whitesnake. Rounded out by keyboardist Tommy Eyre, the new line-up is ready to open fire, nicknamed Gary Moore and his Expensive Friends due to the hefty fees commanded by some of the scene's most in-demand musicians. But the game – expensive as it is – proves worth the candle, because Corridors Of Power, released in autumn 1982, works brilliantly and launches Moore's guitar into sonic hyperspace.

Glixman's production work, combined with the rhythm section's talent, far surpasses Jet Records' earlier pop-metal attempts, as heard on the opening “Don’t Take Me For A Loser”, which polishes an aggressive sound by blending melody, metal guitar and hypnotic keyboards. Even though the romantic ballad chosen as the single, “Always Gonna Love You”, won't set the charts on fire, Gary Moore has reason to smile: he wants to rehabilitate himself as a solo musician, after a recent US tour with Greg Lake where hardly anyone recognized him. Taking its title from a political text by the English writer Charles Percy Snow, the album features just one cover (Free's “Wishing Well”), rolling out fresh, spontaneous compositions, from the heavy-pop chorus of “Gonna Break My Heart Again” to the fast guitar-drum duet “Rockin’ Every Night”. Some critics praise Moore's vocal performance – indeed better than before, warmer and more penetrating – and there's general agreement on the well-judged fusion of heavy metal and melody, which kicks off with the killer riff of “Cold Hearted” and triumphs with the nearly eight-minute dramatic anthem “I Can’t Wait Until Tomorrow”.

Immediately after the release of Corridors Of Power, reviews are positive, confirming Gary Moore's relaunch on the international rock scene. The album, however, struggles to climb the charts, stalling at number 30 in the UK. Richard Griffiths is furious at Virgin's lack of support in promoting the album in the UK, while preparations are underway over the summer for an upcoming British tour. The main problem is Gary's limited ability to sing and play simultaneously live, so Charlie Huhn is called in first, followed by John Sloman, in time for the official launch with two dates at London's Marquee. The tour is extended into Europe in spring 1983, including several festivals with an estimated total of around 100,000 attendees. Next comes the unrepeatable opportunity to support Def Leppard – riding high after the release of “Pyromania” – on a US tour, but trusty Don Airey turns it down, swiftly replaced by Neil Carter, ex-Ufo. Despite the short sets (around 35 minutes), the tour supporting Def Leppard allows Gary Moore's guitar to play in front of an average of over 20,000 spectators a night. Hearing him live, several American disc-jockeys are bowled over by the Northern Irish musician's style, and start playing his songs on the radio.

As a recorded testament to the excellent tour between late 1982 and almost all of 1983, there's Rockin’ Every Night – Live In Japan, recorded over two dates at Tokyo's Kōsei Nenkin Kaikan in January '83 and released by Virgin first only in the Japanese market, then three years later in Europe. With Sloman on vocals and the sturdy Paice-Murray rhythm section, the band tears through the heavier side of the repertoire at full speed, from “Rockin’ Every Night” to the new hits “Rockin’ And Rollin’” and “Nuclear Attack”.

Enhanced by Sloman's vocal performance and Paice's killer drumming, the album is worth hearing for nothing else than the monumental, over-12-minute version of the gem “I Can’t Wait Until Tomorrow”.

While Moore is touring the US, Jet Records finally releases Dirty Fingers, recorded three years earlier under Tsangarides' production. Initially shelved by Arden's label to make room for the more commercial G-Force, the album hits the market with its raw heavy-rock aesthetic, encapsulated in the already-mentioned single “Nuclear Attack”. From the very first riff of “Hiroshima”, the album aims to punch the listener in the gut, wielding the six-string in a cavernous sound. On tracks like “Kidnapped” and “Lonely Nights”, the blend of hard rock and melody tried out in the G-Force days is evident, clearly deemed too weak by Jet for immediate release. Probably also due to the odd, flat cover of the hit “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” or the limp ballad “Rest In Peace”.

The overall impression is that of an experimental album, made up of embryonic tracks like the title track, which would only later be reworked as the intro to “End Of The World”.

Jet's salvage operation continues a few months later with Live, which releases the live recordings from London's Marquee in November 1980, with Kenny Driscoll on vocals and ex-Kinks man Andy Pyle on bass. The album revisits tracks from Back On The Streets (the title track and the hit “Parisienne Walkaways” in an extended instrumental version) and G-Force (“You” and “Dancin”), closing with the gem “Dallas Warhead”, which showcases Tommy Aldridge's drumming skills in its long central section.

Before planning his next moves, Moore returns to work with Greg Lake on his second album, Manoeuvres, released by Chrysalis in July 1983. The musicians are the same as on the self-titled debut, but the result is a total flop, a far cry from the aggressive sound of “Nuclear Attack”. Aside from the usual hard-rock riff on the opening title track, the album veers into a more sedate power-ballad format (“Paralysed”), embracing mellifluous soul textures (“A Woman Like You”) and near-symphonic melodies (“Haunted”).

At the end of 1983, Gary returns to the studio in Notting Hill to record his next album, once again with producer Jeff Glixman. His artistic relationship with bassist Neil Murray is at an all-time low, caused by extreme differences over how the rhythm section itself should work. Mo Foster and Bob Daisley, just fired by Ozzy Osbourne, are brought in to work on the album. Another significant departure is Ian Paice, who speaks frankly with Moore, admitting he has lost his ability to keep time on the record. The drummer is replaced by Bobby “Prime Time” Chouinard, in time to finish the album, released in February 1984.

Victims Of The Future follows in its predecessor's footsteps: sturdy, melodically-inclined heavy rock, starting with the title track, which showcases the vocal skills of new singer and keyboardist Neil Carter. From the vibrant hard-boogie of “Teenage Idol” to the martial cover of “Shapes Of Things” (Yardbirds), the new record is a shot straight to the ears, designed to court the charts even more, and indeed it climbed to number 12 in the UK chart.

Moore's guitar skills border on perfection, as on the dark beauty of “Murder In The Skies”, a socio-political invective against the Soviet Union following the downing of a Korean Air Lines plane. While tracks like “All I Want” strongly recall certain Aerosmith phrasings, the ballad “Empty Rooms” achieves the best chart position as a single, while the Sabbath-like closer “Law Of The Jungle” envelops the listener with its grim, over-six-minute pounding march.

About to set off on a new tour, Moore finds his new bassist in Craig Gruber, already busy with Rainbow and Ronnie Dio. One of the scheduled stops is certainly Japan, where Gary returns for the second time to satisfy an ever-growing audience, helped also by the return of Ian Paice, who leverages the Deep Purple name, an institution in the Land of the Rising Sun. When he lands at Narita airport, Moore's crew is literally besieged by thousands of fans, a collective hysteria following the release of Victims Of The Future not seen even in the days of the Beatles. The Japanese dates are a triumph, culminating in the show at the Budokan in front of 14,000 adoring fans.

The band returns to Europe towards spring, before setting off again for another US tour without Ian Paice, who in the meantime is expecting his third child. The drummer will not return, as he will be offered a hugely lucrative contract to reform Deep Purple.

From the triumphant 1984 tour comes the double live album We Want Moore!, released in October, which collects various performances from Detroit, Tokyo, London and Belfast. Running over an hour, the double album opens explosively with the invective “Murder In The Sky”, followed by a spectacular, over-eight-minute version of the Yardbirds' “Shape Of Things”. The 1984 tour finds Gary Moore at the peak of his form, as shown by the blistering trio of “Cold Hearted”, “End Of The World” and “Back On The Streets” on the second side of the first disc.

We Want Moore! is a sumptuous live album, testament to a period of constant ascent for the Northern Irish musician.

The Loner

After the huge success of the Victims Of The Future world tour, Gary Moore decides to head back into the studio to ride the wave, in early 1985. When he walks through the doors of Air Studios in London, the roster of musicians at his disposal is impressive, from Glenn Hughes (bass and vocals) to the return of Don Airey on keyboards. For the first time he works with as many as three producers, but above all there's an old relationship that has suddenly been rekindled, the one with Phil Lynott. Despite general skepticism, the two join forces to record the single "Out In The Fields", an electric power-pop track about the infamous ethno-nationalist conflict known as the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The hammering rhythm created by the rhythm section, combined with the keyboard part and the catchy chorus, climbs the UK charts in spring 1985, the best result for a Moore single and a tasty appetizer ahead of the release of Run For Cover in September.

The album stays anchored to heavy-rock (the title track), but features a heavier dose of melodic pop, as on the following "Reach For The Sky", carried almost single-handedly by Glenn Hughes. Gary decides to re-record the hit-ballad "Empty Room", while the renewed partnership with Lynott produces the dramatic march of "Military Man", one of the most interesting moments on an album that convinces with a few question marks, suspended between the classic riff-driven epic ("Nothing To Lose"), more or less thinly veiled imitations of the Van Halen sound ("Once In A Lifetime") and synth-driven romanticism on "Listen To Your Heartbeat".

Despite the success of the single "Out In The Fields", Gary has no intention of going back on tour with Lynott, who has never managed to overcome his severe addictions. With the friendship with Phil rekindled, a problem emerges with Hughes, who wants to change the band's name to Gary Moore Band featuring Glenn Hughes, eager to re-emerge on the international stage. Steve Barnett thinks otherwise, wanting to force him to undergo continuous blood tests in the months before the tour starts. The former Deep Purple man is thus shown the door, covered by Bob Daisley for the 1985 shows, which see the last performance with Lynott on 28 September at the Hammersmith Odeon in London. Destroyed by alcohol and drugs, Phil dies of an infection on 4 January 1986, when Gary is in Tenerife with his new wife Kerry Booth.

Shaken by Lynott's tragic death, in May Gary takes part in Self Aid, a tribute concert in front of 30,000 fans complete with a Lizzy reunion. In an interview given to a Swedish journalist shortly before his death, Lynott himself had talked about a new single on the way with Moore, titled "Over The Hills And Far Away". The song provides the spark for the recording of an entire album as a tribute to Phil, one that tells the story of his homeland through music. Gary spends much of 1986 trying out new songs, taking them on tour too with the addition of drummer Gary Ferguson alongside the tried-and-tested rhythm section with bassist Bob Daisley. The band performs several dates in large open-air venues on the last tour by Queen with Freddie Mercury, starting in Sweden and going all the way to South Africa.

Surprisingly, when he returns to the studio to finish the new record, Moore chooses not to use a real drum kit but a Linn 9000 drum machine. Released in March 1987, Wild Frontier softens Gary's metal garb, adding a thoroughly pleasant Irish-folk touch to the power-pop of "Over The Hills And Far Away", almost replicated as a carbon copy on the following title track. The album's biggest weakness lies precisely in the choice to sample the drum parts with a drum machine, which ends up flattening good ideas. "The Loner", for instance, is an excellent instrumental featuring one of the most intense versions of Moore's guitar playing, while the cover of the Easybeats' "Friday On My Mind" gets completely lost among baroque arrangements, pop harmonies and a rhythm bed with no verve whatsoever. Things work better when, in an attempt to honor his friend Phil Lynott, the album veers toward the windswept Irish coast, relying on the pipes of Paddy Moloney (Chieftains) on the melancholy closer "Johnny Boy".

Paradoxically, despite not being Moore's best record of the decade at all, Wild Frontier tops the charts, going silver in the UK and platinum in Sweden, a country long closely tied to his work. Even if low down, the album enters the Billboard Top 200 in the United States, a result that wasn't even hoped for given how little the American public knew of him.

Following the release of Wild Frontier, a new world tour is scheduled for the whole of 1987, but first drummer Gary Ferguson needs to be replaced with Eric Singer, who had in turn replaced Bill Ward in Sabbath two years earlier. Starting at the NEC Arena in Birmingham, the tour will run to more than 70 dates in different corners of the planet, taking in the Scandinavian countries, the UK and of course beloved Japan. A hit with both audiences and critics, a success that unfortunately isn't repeated in the United States, where the lack of radio airplay and poor sales relegate Moore to the same tier as TNT, Y&T and Ace Frehley (Kiss). Gary is annoyed - his son Jack is about to be born - but he has to accept the US shows for purely tax reasons, namely needing to stay away from the UK for a certain amount of time.

Back in Europe in early 1988, Moore calls Neil Carter back and explains to him that the Celtic rhythms included on Wild Frontier went down well, live too: why not try that again? The only difference will be the return of a live drum kit, entrusted to the phenomenal Cozy Powell, who in the meantime has grown tired of moving from one band to another and has decided to become a session man.

After The War comes out in January 1989, produced solely by Peter Collins with a special guest appearance by Ozzy Osbourne on vocals on the sinister symphonic heavy track "Led Clones", delivered in Led Zeppelin style and laced with Beatles-esque harmonies. Opened by the usual blend of hard-rock and pop choruses ("After The War"), the album shifts up a gear into heavy-metal ("Speak For Yourself") before collapsing into the ethereal instrumental "The Messiah Will Come Again".

The album is thin on ideas and pedestrian in execution, as on the hard-and-roll track "This Thing Called Love", picking up the Irish sonic tradition again only on the closing "Blood Of Emeralds", which rewrites the jig with a booming riff and martial rhythm. Half a point extra only for "Dunluce", a short instrumental split into two parts featuring a spine-tingling guitar solo.

In March 1989, with the new tour about to start, new drummer Cozy Powell snaps at Moore and walks out, tired of taking orders on how to play. Former Firm man Chris Slade takes the drum stool, setting off with the band on another world tour, in ever bigger venues. Despite a decent sales rate following the arrival of Barnett and Virgin, conquering America remains an elusive dream, leaving Gary increasingly frustrated and on edge. The real problem is that Moore's talent has failed to find a place either in the lineage of the great English guitarists (Clapton, Beck, Page) or among the heavy virtuosos like Satriani, Vai and Malmsteen. A real limbo, which has swallowed him up both commercially and artistically, also caused by the chronic lack of a fixed singer, a frontman who, in the world of hard & heavy, is more than essential. Last but not least, the misfortune of releasing albums at home and trying to get them into the overseas charts, where in the 1980s titles like "Pyromania" (Def Leppard), "Master Of Puppets" (Metallica) and "Slippery When Wet" (Bon Jovi) reign supreme. But those are bands with strong identities, and not just musically. Clothes, make-up, videos: accessory elements that matter to fans, which Gary Moore refuses to accept because "what else should there be beyond the music?". So an inevitable turning point arrives when, in April 1989, he's in the dressing room before a concert in Germany, strumming something by Mayall and his Blues Breakers. Bob Daisley suddenly tells him: "Hey, why don't we make a blues record? It'll be the biggest thing you ever do in your life".

I Still Have The Blues

When the After The War tour ends at the close of 1989, Gary Moore looks back five years, to when the idea of a blues record was considered heresy by his own management, convinced they could turn him into a star on the harder end of rock. By the end of the decade, Gary is looking at young Jeff Healey, who had just the year before earned huge acclaim with his debut record "See The Light". But also at giants of the older blues tradition like John Lee Hooker, who a few months earlier had relaunched his career with the record "The Healer". Probably because of a renewed commercial appeal for the devil's music, Steve Barnett approves the idea this time around. Moore is electrified, getting back in touch with Don Airey and Andy Pyle and shutting himself away in the studio with producer Ian Taylor.

The first demo recordings are a mix of covers and originals, produced in raw form to let the Virgin bosses listen to the material. The song "Still Got The Blues (For You)" wins everyone over, giving the green light to the new record, with Mick Weaver added on piano and Graham Walker on drums. Unexpectedly, the enthusiasm of Moore's entire management leads to some outstanding collaborations, first and foremost that of legend Albert King, who is invited to record "Oh, Pretty Woman" (A.C. Williams) from his masterpiece "Born Under A Bad Sign". Arriving in London, King doesn't really know Gary, thinking he's just another white kid wanting to play the blues. Then he hears him play, building twelve-bar structures like a seasoned veteran, backed by a horn fanfare and with an unusually warm, sensual voice. The dialogue with King's Gibson Flying V, better known as Lucy, is the spark that sets off the album Still Got The Blues, released in March 1990 with a statement-making cover: young Moore sitting on a sofa trying out a guitar bigger than himself, while a photo of Jimi Hendrix hangs on the wall behind him.

Starting at full throttle with the boogie "Moving On", the album revisits electric blues from the Chicago school ("Walking By Myself" from Jimmy Rogers' catalogue) and lands its biggest hit with the intense soul ballad "Still Got The Blues", carried by Moore hand in hand with a full string section arranged by Gavyn Wright. The new compositions flow fresh and gritty, as the intro borrowed from Cream kicks off the new Zz Top-style boogie "Texas Strut". Next comes the explosive duet with Albert Collins' guitar, "Too Tired", while "King Of The Blues" apes B.B. King's style. The hypnotic "As The Years Go Passing By" reaches another peak on the smooth horn section and the piano/keyboard combo of Nicky Hopkins and Don Airey. Finally freed from the shackles of the heavy metal riff, Gary Moore can unleash all his talent, building genuine sonic cathedrals worthy of the finest bluesmen of years gone by. Rounding off an outstanding record, there's a collaboration with George Harrison on the beat-fanfare "That Kind Of Woman" and a deluxe version of Fleetwood Mac's "Stop Messin' Around", written by his idol Peter Green.

Moore's gamble on the blues pays off incredibly well: the single "Still Got The Blues" is the only one to crack Billboard's Top 100, while the full album reaches No. 83 on the Billboard 200, earning the long-sought Gold Disc with the RIAA's blessing. It took old music to finally grab the attention of the American public.

The album's sudden success naturally leads to an immediate return to touring, billed as Gary Moore & The Midnight Blues Band, complete with a horn section even on stage. Across Europe and the UK, the run of concerts is triumphant, because unlike other times, this is the right record at the right moment. But above all, because both critics and audiences appreciate a renewed sincerity from a musician who was practically born to play the blues. Now comfortable vocally too, Moore discovers on stage a new pleasure in performing alongside plenty of new friends, such as Albert Collins, who joins him on stage at the famous Montreux festival in the summer of 1990. Initially planned for just a few weeks, the tour stretches to six months, wrapping up in September with some stadium dates supporting Tina Turner.

The timing is right, and management pushes for a world tour with dates in the States and Japan, but Gary catches everyone off guard and flatly refuses. His return to the blues was itself conceived as a way to avoid the stress of touring, long trips away from his young children, and a never-quite-dormant performance anxiety. On top of that, he starts experiencing hearing problems after years of extremely high volumes. Following the tragic death of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Moore slides into depression, even with his family close by during the new move to the States for tax reasons. Production company NFL Films is waiting for him in Los Angeles to film "An Evening Of The Blues", but Gary isn't up for it (and not only because of dangerous ear infections). Virgin and Steve Barnett start to grumble, since this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to put himself at the centre of the American scene, which has so far been his great weak spot.

All Moore wants to do in 1991 is get back in the studio for his second blues album, eagerly awaited by his label after the stunning success of Still Got The Blues. Producer Ian Taylor tries to take the pressure off him, pointing out that a repeat is highly unlikely. By a strange twist of fate, Gary embraced the blues to break free from the grip of heavy rock, only to fall back into the grip of that same devil's music after just one album. While the creative and executive process behind Still Got The Blues was free and spontaneous, almost immediate, that of the following After Hours is tortuous, full of snags, including the death of his friend, singer Vicki Brown, to whom the album is in fact dedicated.

Released in March 1992, the record returns to the old habit of working with an imposing number of musicians, with no fewer than four bassists, including the trusty Bob Daisley and Andy Pyle. If the previous album is a tribute to the great tradition of Anglo-American bluesmen, the new work leans much more towards a Stax-style sound, starting with the opener "Cold Day In Hell", which features a prominent horn section and a female chorus at the close. The covers chosen for the album, such as the 1940s classic "Don't You Lie To Me (I Get Evil)", likewise point to a more collective, soul-blues orchestra approach, with the guitar less dominant but woven into a big-band-style architecture.

There's no shortage, though, of moments that showcase Moore's talent, landing the knockout blow on the following ballad "Story Of The Blues". In the swinging "Since I Met You Baby" there's a voice-and-guitar dialogue with new guest B.B. King, followed by the returning Albert Collins on the remake of Little Milton's "The Blues Is Alright", with excellent work from the horn section known as the Memphis Horns. From the breakneck hard-rock of "Key To Love" (Mayall) to the aching slow-blues of "Jumpin' At Shadows", After Hours is an album that, difficult gestation aside, offers another facet of Gary Moore's radical transformation from guitar hero into a thoroughly refined bluesman.

Despite containing excellent tracks, the new album doesn't come anywhere close to the sales of Still Got The Blues, even though it goes gold and charts very well in the UK. Moore moves back to the States before kicking off a new tour in June 1992 at London's Hammersmith Odeon. The August dates, however, are cancelled due to ongoing hearing problems, with things picking up again towards the end of the year, including a memorable show at London's Town and Country Club, featuring a spine-tingling duet with B.B. King on the classic "The Thrill Is Gone".

Several dates from the 1992 tour are recorded live for the release of the album Blues Alive, which features various performances from the last two records plus a few extra gems, from the near-nine-minute marathon "The Sky Is Crying" (Elmore James) to the blistering "Further On Up The Road". A sincere live celebration of his most recent repertoire following his turn towards twelve-bar blues.

BBM

During 1993, Gary Moore takes a break, both from touring and from the recording studio. Out of nowhere comes a phone call from his friend Jack Bruce, who has just lost his guitarist Blues Saraceno to Poison. The former Cream bassist has to honour a couple of August dates in Germany, so he asks Gary if he can join him temporarily. Moore's fit is obviously perfect, and the chemistry with Bruce quickly leads to a proposal to collaborate on a new album. The early recording sessions give Gary an idea: to build new songs tailor-made for Jack's powerful voice. In November, at an all-star concert in Cologne for Bruce's fiftieth birthday, another Cream legend takes the stage: drummer Ginger Baker. Gary can hardly believe it: playing the Eric Clapton role alongside two-thirds of one of his all-time favourite bands. The idea grows ever more outlandish: hire Baker himself – who over the years never had exactly an idyllic relationship with Bruce – and launch a project from scratch, not as a new Gary Moore blues album. By the time he walks into Virgin's offices, Cream have just earned a place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, playing live in front of an audience for the first time since 1968. The opportunity is too tempting to resist: reform part of the historic band – since Clapton has in fact turned it down – with the best guitarist on the label's roster. The label agrees, and BBM is officially born, a name chosen quite simply from among the many options on the table.

The first album is titled Around The Next Dream and is released in May 1994, opening with "Waiting In The Wings", which is virtually impossible to tell apart from the fiery sound of "White Room". While Moore's wah-wah differs only in certain respects from Clapton's, both Bruce's voice and Baker's drumming seem to echo times gone by even more closely. Probably caught up in a Cream-reunion effect, the three of them seem to let themselves slip into excessive self-quotation, as in the following "City Of Gold", which is a near-copy of "Crossroads". Moore's playing is undoubtedly superb – from the slow, sinuous "Can't Fool The Blues" to the soul of "I Wonder Why (Are You So Mean To Me?)" – but the overall feeling on listening is that of the proverbial mountain giving birth to a mouse.

The record still has its fine moments, though, from the electro-acoustic ballad "Where In The World" to the long jazz-inflected improvisation "Why Does Love (Have To Go Wrong?)". The rest falls short of the very high expectations, between a hard-pop track with no spark ("Glory Days") and a waltz-time soul number ("Naked Flame").

Despite some sniping over the Clapton-to-Moore handover, the album sells fairly well, reaching No. 9 on the UK charts. But the chemistry built in the studio dissolves in an instant during the European tour, with the usual friction between Bruce and Baker resurfacing, along with the inherent weight of managing three massively strong personalities on one stage. Acclaimed by audiences at every show, BBM alternate between five-star performances and arguments over volume levels and amplifiers. Adding to the troubles are Gary's ongoing ear pains, while he is meanwhile hit by tabloid gossip about an alleged extramarital affair with a 23-year-old girl named Camilla. His marriage to Kerry falls apart, and so does his partnership with the former Cream members.

Moore certainly needs to recover, so he takes most of 1994 off, leaving his new manager John Martin in charge of putting together his first compilation album, titled Ballads And The Blues 1982-1994, which collects his softer tracks along with the previously unreleased instrumental "Blues For Narada".

After a well-earned rest, Moore turns his thoughts to his next move: a tribute album to his greatest sonic inspiration. Peter Green has been inactive since the early 1980s, after attempting a comeback with records that went largely unnoticed. Worn down by a severe form of mental illness, the former Fleetwood Mac guitarist has always had a huge influence on Gary, who now wants to pay him the tribute he deserves. Andy Pyle (bass), Graham Walker (drums) and Tommy Eyre (keyboards) are brought back in to recreate the proper Green-style sound, while at the same time giving a fresh sonic shape to legendary songs, chosen carefully, among other things, to ensure that Peter himself receives the maximum amount of royalties.

Opened by the Chicago-school blues of “If You Be My Baby”, the album Blues For Greeny came out in May 1995 and split critics slightly, between those who dismissed it as a mere exercise in recording and those who praised Moore's ability to faithfully recreate the Peter Green sound. The truth lies somewhere in between, between sinuous, perfectly executed tracks (“Merry-Go-Round” or the lengthy “Driftin'”) and rather inconsequential cover exercises, such as the rock'n'roll of “Long Grey Mare” or the soul-blues of “The Supernatural”, from the album “A Hard Road”, on which Green lent his guitar to John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers. It's certainly not a failed record – the whispered finale of “Looking For Somebody” is anthology material – but Moore's tribute is more a sincere attempt to revive the career of a lost musician than a genuinely innovative way of reinterpreting his art.

The Blues For Greeny tour kicked off in late April at London's Shepherd's Bush Empire, where the show was filmed live with Green himself present backstage. The run of shows was brief, taking in Germany and then once again the Montreux festival.

A different rhythm

Late 1995. Caught up in a costly divorce, Gary Moore fortunately received a sizeable advance from John Martin for his next solo album. In the guitarist's mind there was a new change of direction brewing, away from both 80s heavy rock and blues. A different sound, not necessarily built around guitar firepower, something that felt more contemporary. He called back his producer friend Chris Tsangarides, along with new drummer and composer Gary Husband. The first recording sessions took place in France, at Miraval studios, then in Barbados, again for tax reasons that kept him away from the UK at regular intervals.

Dark Days In Paradise, released in June 1997, had a difficult and tortuous gestation, and it's disorienting from the very first minutes of “One Good Reason”, a hyper-ballad over electronic beds and swirling strings, moving between drum and bass pauses and near-grunge surges. When the suburban talking-blues of “Cold Wind Blows” kicks in, it seems impossible to square it with any previous incarnation of Moore, who even toys with sitar in an anxious setting, as if he were Mark Lanegan. Aside from more overtly melodramatic tracks like “I Have Found My Love In You” and “Like Angels”, the album is surprisingly solid for such an abrupt change of direction. “One Fine Day” is a Beatlesque marvel with a “Rain”-style bassline, while “Always There For You” blends jazzy textures over an atmospheric electronic base. For the first time, the guitar is almost sidelined, just one of the compositional elements in near-Bowie-esque tracks like “Afraid Of Tomorrow”.

Towards the end, there's the intense electro-acoustic ballad “Where Did We Go Wrong?” and, above all, the nearly twenty-minute marathon “Business As Usual”, which opens with melodic vocals over ambient electronic architectures before veering towards an orchestral sound and then taking flight on ethereal guitar. Not to mention the closing Tex-Mex flourish in the title track “Dark Days In Paradise”, which sweeps away years of heavy rock and blues gems with hammering marimba.

The change of direction wasn't appreciated by the public, and the record sold poorly. Moore split with his manager John Martin and, more importantly, with Virgin, which left him without a record deal at the end of 1997. After the Dark Days In Paradise tour, Gary booked Marcus Studio 3 for six months to work with producer Ian Taylor on his next record. Over the course of 1998, Moore's tastes had changed drastically, drawn towards the work of DJ Fatboy Slim and the mix of rock, ambient and techno from English band Apollo 440. Where the influence of drum and bass on Dark Days In Paradise was only hinted at, A Different Beat gives itself over shamelessly to the dancefloor, fusing rock epic with the sweat of the beats, as on opening track “Go On Home”, which to all intents and purposes picks up Fatboy Slim's dance-rock style.

Released by Castle – the only label willing to embrace the record in the absence of a bigger deal – A Different Beat pushes the previous record's experiments to the extreme, pumping up the drum and bass (“Lost in Your Love”) and attempting a decent fusion of blues-rock and electronics (“Worry No More”) that actually hits the mark. While there was no burning need for a cover of “Fire” (Hendrix), the nearly ten minutes of the honeyed “Surrender” are an interesting exercise after a crash course in emotional, Santana-style rock applied to atmospheric electronics.

Mixed by English collective E-Z Rollers, the record presses doggedly on with its drum and bass approach (“House Full Of Blues”), adapting the typical western-blues sound to the rhythms of a late-90s London techno club (“Bring My Baby Back”). The result is certainly jarring, bordering on blasphemous, and yet – aside from a few avoidable numbers, like the tribute to Fatboy Slim himself on “Fatboy” – Moore shows real courage and a genuine desire to reinvent himself, as on closing track “We Want Love”, a pleasant listen amid booming bass and soulful flourishes.

Back to the blues

The courage Moore showed between 1997 and 1999 with Dark Days In Paradise and A Different Beat didn't pay off in sales terms, among the worst of his career. Awaiting another child with his new partner Jo, and without a major record deal, the Northern Irish guitarist realised it was time to return to the genre that had served him best. The tour following A Different Beat indeed saw a return to the devil's music, understandably eased along by the sheer difficulty of performing the dance material live. Gary once again changed his lineup, bringing in keyboardist Vic Martin and bassist Pete Rees. On Don Airey's suggestion, he also hired drummer Darrin Mooney, since Gary Husband wasn't really suited to the genre. The new run of shows started in the UK before moving on to Europe and then to countries he'd never played before, Russia and Estonia among them.

At the end of the tour, he went straight back into the studio with Tsangarides to work on a new blues record. Unlike in the past, Moore wanted a more direct, no-frills album, almost recorded live in the room. It took just a month to finish Back To The Blues, released by Sanctuary in March 2001.

Starting from the boogie rhythm of “Enough Of The Blues”, the record cements a fairly traditional approach to electric blues-rock, save for sporadic moments like “You Upset Me Baby”, which revisits B.B. King in an orchestral guise. It's the first of the few covers included on the record, followed by the classic “Stormy Monday” (T-Bone Walker) in a version that, while flawlessly performed, adds nothing to its already prestigious legacy.

The overall impression on listening, however, makes it hard to tell the reinterpretations apart – for instance, the frantic “Looking Back” (Johnny Guitar Watson) – from the original tracks written by Moore and performed with rather traditionalist musicians. “Cold Black Night”, for example, is fairly similar to the previously recorded “Messin' With The Kid”, while “Picture Of The Moon” comes almost absurdly close to the hit “Still Got The Blues”. What emerges is a well-played record, but one drained of any originality, slavishly faithful to its interpretation of a genre that, at the dawn of the new millennium, could have used a fresh coat of paint.

Acclaimed mostly in the Scandinavian countries – where Moore had never lost his grip – Back To The Blues led to a new tour across the UK and Europe. His last live outings were brief, no longer than two months, as Gary increasingly wanted to spend time with his family. After the release of the new double-album compilation The Best Of The Blues – which gathered unreleased gems like the wild swing-blues of “Caldonia” with Albert Collins and Albert King, and a spine-tingling version of the B.B. King classic “The Thrill Is Gone” – a new project was on the horizon. Moore found himself drawn back to the sound of Jimi Hendrix, to his power-trio format, wanting to revive a more aggressive setup with younger musicians. Primal Scream drummer Darrin Mooney was still on board and suggested his friend, bassist Cass Lewis, who had just come out of the breakup of Skunk Anansie and was a huge Thin Lizzy fan. A sort of instant team was thus put together, under the name Scars, which very quickly produced the self-titled debut album in the summer of 2002.

From the wah-wah effects of “When The Sun Goes Down”, the album unmistakably recalls the aggressive, vintage sound of the great power trios of the past, first and foremost Cream and, of course, Jimi Hendrix Experience. A fidelity that at times borders on excessive, given that “World Of Confusion” is essentially a rewrite of “Manic Depression”, while the sprawling “Ball And Chain” borrows the riff from “Voodoo Child”, and “World Keep Turnin’ Round” is too close to “Crosstown Traffic” to be considered an original track.

Scars is thus a deeply divisive album: on one hand just a vintage homage (albeit superbly played), on the other an attempt to rework an old-school sound in a modern key, as in the successful blend of jazz drumming and electronic textures on “Wasn’t Born In Chicago”, which picks up the contemporary drift of the previous albums. The softening brought by ballads like “Who Knows (What Tomorrow May Bring)?” helps make sense of a record that, for much of its runtime, is an exercise in style and a nostalgic nod to times gone by.

The subsequent tour under the Scars name is shared with Zz Top, with the band billed as a very special guest rather than a standard opening act. The band continues touring in 2003 alongside Whitesnake and Y&T on the Uk Monsters of Rock Tour, but the album sells very poorly and further dates, including one at the Montreux Festival, are cancelled. If the original idea was to keep going as Scars for the long haul, the project collapses in less than a year, partly due to friction between Moore himself and Cass Lewis. While Gary ponders his next move, Sanctuary releases the album Live At Monsters Of Rock, recorded on 21 May 2003 at the Sheffield Hallam Arena. The performance includes unexpected renditions of classics like “Shapes Of Thing” and “Wishing Well”, virtually leaving out the new songs written for the Scars project.

Despite the Scars project running aground, Moore decides to stick with the power-trio format, keeping faithful bassist Bob Daisley and retaining Mooney on drums. Power Of The Blues is released in 2004 and marks a return to more traditional blues, centred on Willie Dixon covers “Evil” and “I Can’t Quit You Baby” delivered in Zeppelin style. “Memory Pain” (Percy Mayfield) certainly carries the right dose of soul-flavoured anguish, while the ballad “That’s Why I Play The Blues” showcases the full range of an intense, emotive guitar. It's perhaps precisely the power of the instrument that makes the album compelling, as on the unleashed jazz-blues of “Can’t Find My Baby” or on closer “Torn Inside”, which sounds as if it were lifted straight from the repertoire of his idol Peter Green.

Surprisingly, Power Of The Blues wins over critics to the point of being hailed as the best blues album since Still Got The Blues. The 2004 tour kicks off as support for Bob Dylan on two dates in Ireland, before officially heading out for a string of European shows. An unexpected problem arises, however: a severe infection in his right hand caused by a steroid injection leaves it so swollen he can't even hold a fork. The tour is cancelled, but the insurance doesn't cover this kind of issue, landing Moore – whose finances were already none too healthy due to poor record sales and, above all, his repeated refusals to commit to lengthy tours such as in the Far East, where he is regarded as a god – with hefty debts to promoters, agents and ticketing companies. Gary is thus forced to sell his Peter Green 1959 Les Paul Standard Serial No: 92038 to an anonymous buyer for a figure close to £300,000. The sale leads to a small mystery: the prized guitar is later spotted at a festival in Dallas with a price tag far higher than what he received. For Moore it's a shock, having believed he'd bound the mysterious buyer to never resell the instrument, which years later will end up in the hands of Kirk Hammett of Metallica.

In 2006 Old New Ballads Blues is released, marking the return of Don Airey on keyboards. The title is self-explanatory, as Moore includes a light sprinkling of old covers, from the wah-wah standard “Done Something Wrong” (Elmore James) to the soul-inflected take on “You Know My Love” (Willie Dixon), right through to yet another rendition of “All Your Love” (Otis Rush) in the Blues Breakers' arrangement. The album also features a handful of original tracks, from the smooth horn-driven version of the classic “Midnight Blues” to the atmospheric “Gonna Rain Today” and “No Reason To Cry”. Surprisingly, the new performances – first and foremost the instrumental “Cut It Out” – sound better than the great classics, turning what seems on paper like a dated record into a pleasant breath of fresh air.

Moore wants to take the new album straight out on tour, but Don Airey and bassist Jonathan Noyce have other commitments, so Pete Rees and Vic Martin are called back in, along with the welcome return of old friend Brian Downey. Some dates see the band performing during what is meant to be B.B. King's farewell tour. Between stops, Gary meets Chicago banjo player and singer Otis Mark Taylor, who invites him to play on his album “Definition Of A Circle” (2007). Moore returns the favour by bringing his own band along on tour, much to the delight of Otis, who has never had the chance to play in such prestigious venues. It's a period of great creative ferment for the Northern Irish guitarist, who follows several blues artists live – chief among them his beloved Mayall – and opens himself up to increasingly interesting musicians, leading him to decide to return to a raw, direct sound, with no effects, just the instrument plugged straight into an amplifier.

Close As You Get, released by Eagle in May 2007, is a genuine surprise, arguably one of the most genuine and accomplished blues records since Still Got The Blues. The sound is raw and powerful, with electric blues pouring freely and seamlessly from the guitar. The album once again features – this time with spontaneous fervour – old covers: two from Sonny Boy Williamson (“Eyesight To The Blind” and “Checkin Up On My Baby”), one in rock'n'roll style from Chuck Berry (“Thirty Days”), and the inevitable final tribute to mentor John Mayall on the slow-blues “Have You Heard?”. Special mention goes to the seven acoustic minutes of “Sundown” (Son House), a rare and moving slice of acoustic country-blues in a discography almost entirely devoted to the electric god. Compared to his recent blues outings, the album displays the many different shades of the devil's music, ranging from the hard-edged tones of “If The Devil Made Whisky” to the more soulful, intimate “Trouble At Home”.

Well received by critics, the album kicks off a long tour through 2007 with the new band, taking in the UK, Germany and Russia. The year closes with a special date: on 25 October 2007 he takes the stage at the London Hippodrome with Dave Bronze on bass and Darrin Mooney on drums, but above all with two guests of honour, Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell. An exceptional live show, staged to launch the album “Live At Monterey”, in which Moore takes on the task of channelling Jimi Hendrix's guitar, performing live reinterpretations of his great classics, from “Purple Haze” to “The Wind Cries Mary”.

Trouble isn't far off

With the Close As You Get tour wrapped up in the summer of 2008, Gary Moore returns to the studio to record what will be his final album, Bad For You Baby. The record keeps pushing forward along the lines of its predecessor, starting with Muddy Waters covers – the roaring Chicago-blues of “Walkin’ Thru The Park” and the jazzy “Someday Baby” – before venturing into Al Kooper territory (the sprawling soul suite “I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know”) and the old J.B. Lenoir sound on the unleashed “Mojo Boogie”. Moore's gravelly voice is in tremendous shape, as is his guitar, which climbs into Zeppelin-esque territory on the hard-edged riff of “Umbrella Man” or on the rockabilly acrobatics of “Down The Line”. From the pure soul melody of “Holding On” – with Cassie Taylor on backing vocals – to his first-ever turn on harmonica on the sensual “Preacher Man Blues”, Gary Moore delivers yet another fine showcase of rediscovered class and sonic verve.

Summer 2008. With the first leg of the new album's tour wrapped up in Faro, Portugal, Gary and Jo decide to stay on for a relaxing holiday. Moore's new partner, however, is growing increasingly worried about his constant drinking and, more generally, about a mood that has turned dark again. In October, ahead of a guest appearance on a German TV show, local promoter George Hofmann invites a fan named Petra Nioduschewski to dinner. His relationship with Gary blossoms suddenly, while Jo waits for him at home with the children for over ten days, later discovering the affair through phone records registered in her own name. Moore decides to move into an apartment near the family home, continuing his relationship with Petra amid numerous flights departing from Gatwick. On New Year's Eve 2009, together with bandmates Pete Rees and Vic Martin, he flies to Russia for a private show at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Moscow in front of prime minister Vladimir Putin, for a fee of over $250,000. The band, now with Steve Dixon added on drums, sets off on a long tour throughout the new year, oddly enough at Gary's own insistence, as he wants to spend as much time as possible away from Jo and the children.

In June the monumental Essential Montreux is released, a five-disc collection spanning over six hours of music, drawing on several of Moore's performances at the famous Swiss festival between 1990 and 2001.

After buying a new house in Brighton, Moore starts living with his new platinum-haired flame, who, however, doesn't take to domestic life. Visibly depressed and out of shape, Gary's condition worsens by the day amid dinners out, alcohol and takeaway junk food. The suspicion is that Petra agreed to move in with Moore only because she'd been thrown out by her ex-partner, and that she doesn't feel anything particularly strong for him. A toxic relationship that the Northern Irish guitarist lacks the strength to handle firmly, eventually becoming unreachable by phone. Gary lets himself go, putting on weight visibly as he abandons his latest vegetarian diet in favour of bacon and colossal drinking binges.

At the start of 2010 he goes back on tour through Russia, Japan and South Korea, but the new run of concerts is interrupted in spring by the eruption of the Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajökull, which grounds flights across the continent. In April Moore announces the end of his latest band with Rees and Martin, intent on changing musical direction once again towards a Celtic music project. Further straining his finances is a lawsuit filed by the band Jud’s Gallery, who accuse him of plagiarising a song titled “Nordrach” on the worldwide hit “Still Got The Blues”. Meanwhile, preparations are underway for a new album with Jon Noyce, but the first sessions are a disaster due to Moore's own psychological and physical state, by now unable to concentrate or be productive.

Things spiral downward during his final live performances in the summer of 2010, as he skips entire guitar parts and can barely stand upright because of alcohol. Before the dates in Russia, Moore invites Petra to join the touring crew, bringing with her a trail of ongoing problems and arguments. The July date at the Montreux Festival — his last documented live appearance — sees a surprise return to material from the Wild Frontier album, with the addition of three songs meant to be part of his upcoming Celtic-flavored record.

Between 17 and 20 January 2011, Moore goes into the studio with Noyce and new drummer Rob Green, an odd choice given his romantic relationship with Moore's ex-wife Kerry. The sessions are interrupted in early February, when Gary and Petra board a plane to Malaga before driving on to the town of Estepona, where they're due to stay at the five-star Kempinski hotel. On 6 February 2011, at seven in the morning, engineer and friend Darren Main gets a phone call from Petra: Gary Moore is dead, having choked on his own vomit in his sleep at four in the morning. "What happened?", Darren asks Petra. "He was quiet and I didn't hear him breathing badly. He hadn't been drinking since the dates in Russia". No further information, just words. Darren takes it upon himself to inform the family, since Petra has barely told anyone. He tries to reach Jo straight away, not wanting her to find out from the papers. But she doesn't answer. Meanwhile Petra calls the hotel's security, while Gary's mother is left in a state of shock. Everyone finds out, from Don Airey, who bursts into tears, to veteran producer Chris Tsangarides: no one can quite believe what they're hearing. By the afternoon, the world learns that the great blues guitarist Gary Moore has died.

"The broken heart of the blonde beauty who was Thin Lizzy guitarist Gary Moore's last love". That's the headline the Daily Mail runs a week after the tragic event, briskly dismissing decades of career from one of rock's great loners. Petra doesn't even attend the funeral, explaining that she'd already had enough after seeing him dead in his bed. The post-mortem analyses initially point to a probable heart attack, later overshadowed by persistent rumours instead describing a death in the style of John Bonham: choking on vomit after an overdose of alcohol. When coroner Veronica Hamilton-Deeley's official inquiry gets underway, Petra doesn't show up, limiting herself to a phone testimony. At the end of the inquiry, Gary Moore's death is attributed to alcohol and fatty-food intoxication, accelerated by pre-existing coronary conditions.

The funeral service is held on 22 February at St Margaret's Church in Brighton, attended by family and numerous musician friends, from Jack Bruce to Don Airey. The last to speak is his daughter Lily: "My father, a man of extremes and rather colourful shirts. A father, a family man, a star".

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