Status Quo - The veterans of boogie rock

We weren't very happy being pop stars in fancy clothes. And boogie was the right music to play

(Francis Rossi)

We've got a motto: it's hard to get to the top. Getting there is one thing, staying there is another. Status Quo have always set out to work as hard as possible. I've learned over the years, to my horror, that the rock'n'roll lifestyle will eventually catch up with you. It will

(Rick Parfitt)

I was angry. I made absolutely no secret of my complete dislike for ‘Marguerita Time’, which I felt was too pop-oriented for the band

(Alan Lancaster)

Road Closed

It's July 21, 1984. Through the thick windows of the helicopter, the roaring crowd on the lawn of the open-air arena still known as Milton Keynes Bowl looks so distant it could be a tiny colony of ants. Yet the organisers have already confirmed the attendance figures, officially putting the crowd at just over 60,000, who arrived by every means possible to the heart of Buckinghamshire. Slumped in one of the few available seats, Francis Rossi is out of his mind on tequila and cocaine, carried on board by his roadies practically by force. The leader of Status Quo is utterly wrecked, having fallen on stage more than once, under glares loaded with hatred and resentment from his own bandmates. After more than twenty years of records and shows, having turned The Paladins into global rock superstars, Rossi looks down at those ants gathered around the stage, thinking he hasn't enjoyed this final triumph one bit.

After all, what happened to Rod Stewart after he left the Faces? What happened to Ozzy, after Black Sabbath? So why keep going in a band that's become too famous, too demanding, now saturated with outsized egos and oppressive demands. Thoughts race by fast, but Francis Rossi has no intention of showing any mercy to the hundreds of thousands of fans who flocked to what's been billed as the End of the Road Tour, the last spectacular run of Status Quo shows. The publicity has obviously had its dirty effect: announcing to the world that the summer of 1984 will be the very last chance to see the English band live. From multiple nights at the Hammersmith Odeon in London to 60,000 at Milton Keynes, tickets sold out at lightning speed, while the executives at Vertigo Records warn Rossi: leaving Quo means dying professionally.

But at 35, Francis certainly isn't afraid of what's to come, having been used since he was 20 to fighting with the music press specialising in punk, who attacked him relentlessly for his dinosaur boogie-rock. The end of Status Quo certainly won't be a tragedy for drummer Pete Kircher, or for keyboardist Andy Bown, who will surely find some other musician ready to take them on. It probably won't be a problem for the band's co-founder either, bassist and singer Alan Lancaster, while rhythm guitarist Rick Parfitt might come out shattered by the inevitable split in an artistic partnership that's sold millions of records worldwide.

As the helicopter climbs on that 21st of July 1984, the harshest look belongs to Rick, who stares at the catatonic Rossi as if to say: "Is it really all over, just like this?" Rossi and Parfitt could not be more different, almost polar opposites: Francis has always been darker, more cynical in his way of understanding the business built up around the band. Rick, on the other hand, is sunny, the showman figure who only thinks about the stage and giving the audience a good time. Both of them, in their own way, know there's no going back, not in this state and not like this. The Milton Keynes show is over, the ants leave the arena to go back to their everyday jobs. At least until a certain phone call from a certain Bob, about a certain charity event. But that's another story.

Of Ghosts and Scorpions

Francis Dominic Nicholas Michael Rossi was born on May 29, 1949 in the Forest Hill area, south London, in a neighbourhood home to many residents of Italian descent. The paternal branch of the large Rossi family had set up a local business selling ice cream from a cart, overseen by Dominic Rossi, born in the English capital to parents from Atina, in the province of Frosinone, known for its olive oil and red wine production. Dominic married Anne, born on the banks of the Merseyside, in Crosby, to parents of Irish descent. A Catholic, Anne named her son Francis in honour of St Francis of Assisi, which, among other things, caused him no end of trouble in his early school years over having too "girly" a name.

The Rossis live in the paternal grandparents' flat on Mayow Road, unable to afford a place of their own on the meagre earnings from the street stalls and the Rossi's Ice Cream shop on Catford Broadway. So Francis's earliest childhood unfolds between Sunday Mass and work in the confectionery trade, while the first taunts start at school, making him more introverted and insecure. His strange accent certainly doesn't help, the product of a family mix of Italian, Irish and Cockney, the target of the cruellest mockery from his classmates at St Philip Neri Roman Catholic Primary School in Sydenham. Having moved on to Sedgehill Comprehensive School, Francis is expelled on his very last day over a row sparked by the alleged defacing of his uniform.

Among the few mental refuges of a complicated adolescence is pop music, in particular his beloved Everly Brothers, by far preferred to sport, in which he is a genuine disaster. So he spends all his time listening to Radio Luxembourg, falling in love with songs by Johnny and the Hurricanes and Cliff Richard. His approach to music began at the age of 4, when Francis tried playing the harmonica and then the accordion, which he gave up very early due to a lack of study and practice. But his passion for the Everly Brothers makes him desperately want a guitar, so he can play at home with his brother Dominic, dreaming of becoming the English answer to the American duo. Francis plans to ask for two guitars as a Christmas present, but Dominic ultimately betrays him by asking for a toy train instead, drifting away forever from any future in the world of music. At the age of 11, he becomes a permanent member of the school orchestra, where he plays trumpet, meeting for the first time a classmate named Alan, who plays trombone.

A peer of Francis's, Alan Charles Lancaster also comes from South London, having been born in the Peckham area. Unlike Rossi, Lancaster already has a strong character as a teenager, the kind of friend it's always good to have around to keep bullies at bay. The two become friends, united by their passion for music, while Francis becomes a regular guest at the Lancaster household, where he feels welcomed and, above all, protected, where there's no need to go by "Mike" to avoid being teased over a name considered too feminine.

Aside from a single lesson taken at the Len Stiles Music shop on Lewisham High Street, Rossi started playing guitar as a complete self-taught musician, listening to records and trying to replicate the sound by ear. In 1962, after meeting Alan, Francis gets drawn to "harder" music, to wild artists like Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, Eddie Cochran, Gene Vincent and Chuck Berry. That's where the spark ignites, with the proposal to put together a band made to friends Alan Key, who plays drums, and Jess Jaworski, a keyboardist. Alan is the key to everything, because his older brother is in the band backing Rolf Harris, and has access to some lifesaving instruments such as a Fender Stratocaster and a Höfner bass. No one has particular singing talent, which is why the burden falls to a not-too-convinced Francis, who has barely sung a few Everly Brothers or Beatles songs.

The name chosen for the new band is The Scorpions, ready for their first performance at the Samuel Jones Sports Club in Dulwich. With their live debut out of the way, the group quickly loses Alan Key, who wants to marry his neighbour at just 14 years old. Enter John Robert Coghlan, born in 1946 into a family of French-Scottish origin. At just fifteen, John had already left Kingsdale Foundation School in Dulwich to work as a mechanic in a local garage, later guided by teacher Lloyd Ryan toward the first rudiments of drumming. Coghlan then enrolled as a cadet in the Air Training Corps (ATC), whose base is practically next door to the old garage on Lordship Lane where The Scorpions rehearse. Playing drums in the ATC group, The Cadets, John impresses Rossi with his advanced technique. He's quickly recruited into the band, which changes its name, settling on The Spectres.

Thanks to Alan Lancaster's father, the group lands a weekly residency at the Samuel Jones Sports Club, catching the attention of an aspiring manager with no experience whatsoever named Pat Barlow. Determined to turn the band into the next big English sensation, Barlow manages to book a few shows at a venue called El Partido, and above all secures a new Monday-night residency at the Café des Artistes, in London's Chelsea neighbourhood. The Spectres perform dressed like the Beatles, scraping together enough money to buy new instruments. A turning point comes at the end of 1964, when Barlow reads an ad looking for bands to open for The Hollies at their concert at Orpington Civic Hall in Kent. Incredibly, he manages to get his band on the bill, giving them a unique opportunity to be noticed by an audience full of music industry figures scouting for the next big stars. The show goes badly, but the group soon gets a chance to redeem itself when Barlow enters them into auditions for the summer season at the popular Butlin's Holiday Camp in Minehead, Somerset.

At the start of 1965, Butlin's Holiday Camp is like a Las Vegas for young Britons, who can enjoy a week's holiday of daytime relaxation and unrestrained nighttime fun. The Spectres, however, immediately run into a problem, as keyboardist Jess Jaworski is tired of the erratic hours and wants to go home to continue his studies. Pat Barlow brings in twenty-two-year-old Roy Lynes as a replacement, who works at an auto parts factory. The shows at Butlin's are blistering, coming thick and fast, sometimes more than one a day. Lynes's experience sometimes covers for Rossi and Lancaster's technical mistakes, but the intense live activity forges the group and pushes it through several stages between amateur status and professionalism.

The dawn of the matchstick man

Back in London after the summer, the Spectres keep playing all kinds of venues, performing covers of Elvis Presley and the Everly Brothers, naturally. During the season at Butlin's, Rossi had met a blond guy in tight jeans named Ricky Harrison, who was part of a cabaret trio called The Highlights. Only later does Francis discover that Ricky Harrison's real name is Richard John Parfitt, a native of Surrey, son of an insurance-agent father given to drink and gambling. From a young age Richard showed he had a hot temper, taking up the guitar at age 11. Richard doesn't like his surname, preferring to go by Harrison, Ricky to his bandmates Jean and Gloria Harrison, with whom he forms The Highlights. When he watches The Spectres perform during the summer camping season in Somerset, Richard is particularly impressed by their version of Chuck Berry's "Bye, Bye Johnny", and later accepts their offer to join the band, who are on the hunt for a new singer to help them take off.

The next big opportunity comes once again thanks to Pat Barlow, who secures the group their first recording contract with Piccadilly Records, a subsidiary of Pye, famous for launching Joe Brown and The Bruvvers to success. The band already has a demo tape ready, recorded at a studio in Soho, which impresses Pye's leading producer, John Schroeder.

The first single released after the summer of 1966 by Piccadilly is titled "I (Who Have Nothing)", a melodic beat tune driven by Roy Lynes's organ, a cover of the hit recorded three years earlier by singer Shirley Bassey. Next comes the band's first original composition, credited to Alan Lancaster, "Hurdy Gurdy Man", which adds some psychedelic shades to their beat foundation. The B-side is "Laticia", which recalls the harmonies of their beloved Everly Brothers, featuring Parfitt's first contribution, though he hadn't yet been officially brought into the band due to lingering doubts about his instrumental abilities.

But Richard is practically the only one with a presentable voice, so he's added to the line-up at the insistence of Rossi and Pat Barlow. The third single released by Piccadilly is "(We Ain't Got) Nothin' Yet", a cover of a track by the psychedelic group Blues Magoos, built on a powerful bass-and-organ riff that more than a few people would later recall when listening to Deep Purple's "Black Night". Unfortunately, The Spectres' early singles are ignored by the British charts, dashing the hopes of both Barlow and Piccadilly.

Parfitt's addition doesn't win over the band, with the exception of Francis Rossi, who instead appreciates his gentle manner and sense of humour. Rossi feels he's found that brother he never had musically, reviving the dream of becoming the English Everly Brothers, or at least forming an artistic partnership worthy of the Lennon–McCartney pairing. Amid suspicions of homosexuality, still illegal in the UK at the time, the two try to put the flop of their early singles behind them, choosing a new name, first The Traffic and then Traffic Jam, due to a dispute with Steve Winwood, who had just formed his new band after the Spencer Davis Group. The band moves on to the popular Saturday morning radio show Radio 1's Saturday Club, hosted by Brian Matthew, supporting minor artists like P. J. Proby and Dixie Cups. A far better gig comes when they're booked to back the Small Faces live, where some members of the group get their first taste of alcohol and psychedelic drugs.

In the summer of 1967 Francis Rossi marries Jean Smith, whom he met during the summer residency at Butlin's, a move that's practically forced given that the girl is 7 months pregnant. The UK too is swept up in the so-called Summer of Love, an offshoot of the American one, where hippie culture is all the rage. Pye producer John Schroeder pushes the group to write original material, so Rossi comes up with "Almost But Not Quite There", drawing inspiration from his new marital status. The track shows a decisive turn toward psychedelia, driven by pounding organ over a foundation still tied to the typical beat sound of the Sixties. The BBC dislikes some excerpts of the lyrics, considered too sensitive, so the single is banned and ends up sinking commercially, just like the previous releases credited to The Spectres. At this point John Schroeder tells Rossi to go all in, to try and craft a track that smashes the charts, even if it means taking cues from other hits. The guitarist shuts himself away in deep concentration, thinking of some old Italian melodies from his childhood, but also of the hypnotic riff of "Hey Joe". The song that emerges is titled "Pictures Of Matchstick Men", its lyrics built around hypothetical psychedelic scenes from a possible LSD trip. Rossi is only half convinced by his own creation, but the rest of the band love it.

The potential is there, but John Schroeder is convinced the song should be released as the B-side of another new track, "Gentleman Jim's Sidewalk Café", which is however built on exactly the same sonic framework as "Almost But Not Quite There". Under pressure from the band, Schroeder changes his mind and opts to swap the sides, on condition that the vocal register changes and the falsetto is dropped. "Pictures Of Matchstick Men" is thus recorded in the autumn of 1967, ahead of its release on the record market in early 1968.

Before the single comes out, though, there's still one detail to sort out, because the name Traffic Jam is now compromised following the BBC ban and its still-excessive similarity to the name of Winwood's band. After a few questionable proposals, Pat Barlow comes up with Quo Vadis, simply the brand name on his shoes. Someone then suggests Status Quo, given the major anti-establishment countercultural movement underway, opposed to those in power and to the preservation of the current socio-political landscape. Opening with a simple yet hypnotic raga-style riff, the single "Pictures Of Matchstick Men" is perfectly suited to the tastes of Britain's alternative crowd, incorporating beat elements too but featuring the unusual electronic effect known as the flanger. When it's released, on New Year's Eve 1968, the track is ignored, fearing the worst, until Pat Barlow's sudden phone call to Rossi: "That bloody single is in the Top 30!"

First aired by Radio Caroline, “Pictures Of Matchstick Men” is then picked up by Radio 1, climbing to number 11 and then number 7, earning an invitation to the legendary Top Of The Pops! show. There's only one way to read that: the song is about to become a chart hit, not just in the UK but also in America, where it will reach number 12.

Beyond the million copies sold, the single launches the fledgling Status Quo, who in the meantime have been booked as the backing band for American singer Madeline Bell. At the end of the tour with Bell, the group receives its first earnings from the single's sales, fuelling general enthusiasm despite the very low royalties imposed by Pye. Alan Lancaster suggests to the other members that the way forward lies in a psychedelic beat sound in the vein of early Pink Floyd, bringing to the table a song of his called “Sunny Cellophane Skies”. Its rhythmic structure is similar to that of “Pictures Of Matchstick Men”, but it develops an even more visionary ambition, along the lines of Syd Barrett's work. Rossi and Parfitt try their hand at songwriting together on “When My Mind Is Not Alive”, which edges closer to Beatles-esque material, featuring a freaky marching-band organ.

The second single chosen by the band is called “Black Veils Of Melancholy”, and essentially reproduces the sound of the hit that preceded it, with oriental guitar licks and beat choruses. The song turns out to be a flop in March 1968, once again putting the group on a knife's edge, saved by the songwriting team of Marty Wilde and Ronnie Scott, who pen the third single, “Ice In The Sun”, released in July with its dazed, martial rhythm. The song hits the mark thanks to its pop chorus, climbing to number 7 in the UK Top 10, a few months ahead of the release of the debut album.

Dreaming in Technicolor

With its oddball title Picturesque Matchstickable Messages From The Status Quo — chosen by Alan Lancaster specifically to create a silly effect and amuse record-shop owners — the debut album by Status Quo is dated 27 September 1968. Naturally riding on the coattails of the hit “Pictures Of Matchstick Men”, it reaches the Top 10 not only in the UK, but also in Germany and France, where the band has never even performed. The album is clearly stuffed with still-raw material, padded out with covers, such as that of “Spicks And Specks”, one of the early hits of the Bee Gees, dating back two years earlier.

Status Quo's arrangements focus on psychedelic beat-pop, from the cover of “Sheila” (Tommy Roe) to that of “Green Tambourine”, taken to the top by Lemon Pipers a short time before. The band's songwriting chops are still unripe, to the point that outside support is needed, as on “Technicolor Dreams”, a more pop-leaning number written by Schroeder's friend Anthony King. The song was meant to be released as the fourth single following the album, but poor sales lead Pye to immediately reconsider.

Tracks like “Paradise Flat” and “Elizabeth Dreams” are interesting enough in terms of performance, but decidedly far from the psychedelic verve of England's leading groups. Commercial struggles remain evident with the single released in early 1969, “Make Me Stay A Little Bit Longer”, which nonetheless seems to introduce some new elements thanks to its hypnotic shuffle rhythm. The song is ignored regardless, while the band prepares for a tour of West Germany alongside Small Faces.

Back home, Rossi and Parfitt are visibly disappointed, and mull over the possibility of starting a new band without the other members, Alan Lancaster in particular, who appears to be on the verge of getting the boot. The bassist, seen as overly domineering, is tacitly given the chance to keep playing for a few more months, while Faces drummer Kenney Jones proposes to Rossi that they form a new band. The idea is to put together a power trio with Parfitt, given that the new English musical landscape is seeing the rise of a harder sound after the Summer of Love. The three do in fact rehearse in secret with Jones, but Rossi is certainly no guitar hero, so the project dies on the vine. Back to square one, waiting for fate's next move.

In the spring of 1969, things just won't turn around for Status Quo, as the new single written by Anthony King, “Are You Growing Tired Of My Love”, an insipid piano ballad, doesn't even come close to the Top 50. Rossi is well aware that he needs to speed up the production of more electrifying material, and starts involving road manager Bob Young in the songwriting process, having poached him from Jethro Tull with a higher salary. Already a member of a band called Attack, Young handles musical material with care, and is even brought onstage by Quo to play harmonica.

The band begins to find some momentum with a handful of new songs destined for the following album, Spare Parts, for instance the psychedelic madrigal “Antique Angelique”, written together with Young. From the pen of the well-honed Rossi-Parfitt duo, “Face Without A Soul” replicates the lysergic beat-pop template with a more aggressive riff, but it's clear the group is merely riding a sonic wave without any particular talent of its own. Aware they don't have a hit up their sleeve, Quo once again try the cover route, tackling “You're Just What I Was Looking For Today”, written by the successful duo Jerry Goffin and Carole King. But the English band's version comes off like a funeral march, slow and devoid of highlights, and Pye rejects it for single release. Not even a return to their beloved Everly Brothers with “The Price Of Love” convinces the label, which releases the album anyway in autumn 1969, but with no hope of success.

If the debut album was at least saved by the presence of one great hit, Spare Parts is the work of a band going through a dismal year, from the orchestral flatness of “So Ends Another Life” to the bland romanticism of “Poor Old Man”. The main problem is a lack of ideas, even bordering on sheer arrogance when “Mr. Mind Detector” attempts some Beatles-style cacophony. Too much space is still given to King's mediocre pen, who sticks to straightforward pop on “Velvet Curtains”, while perhaps the best moments come from the slightly more aggressive rhythm brought by the Rossi-Parfitt duo on “Little Miss Nothing”.

The new album doesn't sell at home, while the only satisfaction from the single “Are You Growing Tired Of My Love” comes from West Germany, where it breaks into the Top 30, prompting the band to organise a new local tour. But it's clearly not enough, to the point that both producer John Schroeder and manager Pat Barlow seem to have lost hope for Status Quo's future. Rossi and Parfitt meet for the first time young booking agent Colin Johnson, who works for the specialist agency Nems. Johnson is decidedly more experienced than Barlow, but above all he has a better grasp of the new musical trends emerging as the 1970s approach. With great respect for the work done so far, and taking into account all the past struggles, the band lets Pat go to join forces with Colin, who in the meantime is setting up his own management agency called Exclusive Artists.

Playing live, Quo realise the time has come to change musically too, abandoning their psychedelic fixation and their anxiety over hits, and instead focusing on building a strong identity, as emerging bands like Led Zeppelin have done. Rossi has artists like Fleetwood Mac, Steamhammer and Canned Heat in mind, bands far more oriented toward the album-rock concept with strong blues influences. The spark that ignites Quo is a “Roadhouse Blues” blasted at full volume during the West German tour, which convinces Rossi to work on a shuffle-blues written by Carl Groszman, “Down The Dustpipe”. With harmonica played by Bob Young, the song is the perfect marriage of the band's old pop attitude and the new sound of African-American origin, produced once again by John Schroeder and released as a single on 6 March 1970. At first the song is ignored — if not outright disparaged — on Radio 1's airwaves, but within six months it manages to climb to number 12 in the UK, boosted by a performance by the band on Granada TV. Quo's look itself changes radically too, from flashy, colourful tunics to the long hair that will take over the decade just beginning.

The Two-Headed Dog

The unexpected success of “Down The Dustpipe” convinces Pye to give Status Quo another chance, and in the spring of 1970 they shut themselves away in the same English label's recording studios to put together their third album, Ma Kelly's Greasy Spoon. From the cover art onward, the record is meant to mark the band's transition from a troupe of psychedelic-pop dandies into a gang of dirty, mean blues-rockers. Rossi begins writing original music together with Bob Young, starting with the opener “Spinning Wheel Blues”, a mix of shuffle, boogie and barrelhouse. Alan Lancaster pens the heaviest riff on the nine-plus-minute marathon “Is It Really Me/Gotta Go Home”, which unfolds over a decidedly hard rock rhythm amid layered guitars and keyboards still carrying a lysergic aftertaste. It's finally a clear direction, one that will especially be ridden live, on scorching blues rampages like “Junior's Wailing”, a Steamhammer cover. The band then pushes the accelerator on the pulsing bassline of “Daughter”, swerving toward garage distortion on “Shy Fly”.

It's a "new" sound that Quo have yet to learn to handle with proper skill, but all the elements for turning into an album-oriented band are there, moving with reasonable ease from the orchestral ballad ("Everything") to the first boogie-rock experiments on the laid-back "(April) Spring, Summer And Wednesdays" and the other Fleetwood Mac cover, "Lazy Poker Blues". While "Lakky Lady" glides pleasantly over a folky uptempo with exotic touches, "Need Your Love" shows the first hints of heaviness bordering on the sabbathian. Despite the hit "Down The Dustpipe" being left off the tracklist, Ma Kelly's Greasy Spoon manages to crack the English Top 30, effectively saving Status Quo's career.

Given the excellent results of the previous album, Pye pushes the group to release another single, again written with Bob Young. "In My Chair" is built on a slowed-down shuffle-blues in the style of Canned Heat, ready to shake up the charts once more. Status Quo can finally breathe, with Rick Parfitt in particular throwing himself into the classic rockstar life of booze, women and cars. Rossi gets straight back to work with Bob Young, penning the wild rock'n'roll of "Mean Girl", another step forward towards a harder sound.

While the group performs at London's Marquee Club alongside Thin Lizzy, the new boogie-rock single "Tune To The Music" is ignored by radio in the spring of 1971, effectively foreshadowing another commercial flop with the new album Dog of Two Head.

Quo's third album comes out in early November 1971, only just scratching the English Top 30 with its strange canine cover art and apparent grammatical error. But never has it been less accurate to call this a misstep on an artistic level, because Dog Of Two Head is the album that lays the foundations for the English band's new direction. The psychedelic past has by now faded away, buried under a more powerful wall of sound geared towards the hard blues being championed by bands on a supersonic rise such as Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. The new studio work features some of the most effective songs the group ever wrote, such as the intriguing, hypnotic Arabian dance of "Gerdundula", written by the Rossi-Young duo under the pseudonym Manston and James. The track reflects hard rock's growing fascination with Eastern influences, structured by Quo as an obsessive Sufi whirl.

On the album's longer tracks, such as the obsessive power of "Umleitung" or the political invective on the terrorism situation in Ireland in "Someone's Learning", the band begins to grind out boogie-rock with real emotional impact. With the airy riff of "Something's Going On In My Head", Status Quo prove they've taken the right path, or rather the one best suited to their instrumental and compositional abilities. Thanks to fresh, energetic arrangements, Dog Of Two Head turns out to be a bold record, able to move effortlessly from the three-part acoustic ballad "Nanana" to the loping twelve-bar rhythm of the excellent "Railroad".

The band's hopes following the release of Dog Of Two Head are dashed by poor commercial results, leading to an inevitable clash with Pye executives. The label decides to sever ties with Status Quo, who find themselves without a record deal at the start of 1972. It's a paradoxical situation, though, since the group's fan base is actually growing after the release of their last two albums, a detail that works in favor of Colin Johnson as he searches for a new deal. Tied to Philips/Phonogram Record Company, a firm specializing in highly mainstream music, Vertigo has instead the job of signing "progressive" acts, meaning more alternative artists on the English rock scene. The label, which has already signed Black Sabbath, Gentle Giant, Nazareth and Uriah Heep, is invited by Johnson to watch Rossi and co. perform at the Reading Festival. Famed Radio 1 DJ John Peel also helps promote the group, ranking them among the best in contemporary rock'n'roll. Status Quo's set, with the band now fully transformed into denim-clad, long-haired rockers, proves incendiary, prompting Vertigo executives to start drawing up contracts right away. There's no time to lose: at Ibc Studios in London, recording sessions begin for the album that will change the history of Status Quo forever.

No time to waste

Holed up in the new London studio, without the help of a professional producer, Status Quo make the album that will take them to the top of the English charts for the first time. Piledriver reaches number five following its release in December 1972. It's recorded with the volume cranked all the way up, its title referencing a famous wrestling move to underline the new sonic violence. After bidding farewell to the overbearing Pye, the band is finally free to experiment, delivering a direct, hard and fun sound. Quo thus try to reproduce their live impact on record, fully backed by Vertigo's new A&R man, Brian Shepherd, who cares far more about the music than the business.

Rossi and Young bring a new composition into the studio, "Don't Waste My Time", which opens with a bluesy phrasing before erupting into supersonic boogie. The single chosen to drive the album is "Paper Plane", another hundred-miles-an-hour boogie-rock track with a beatlesian-style chorus thrown in, which indeed reaches number eight, confirming the instincts of both the band and Vertigo. On the charts for 37 consecutive weeks, Piledriver is effectively the album that sets the band's sound in stone, on the road to full maturity at the very peak of seventies hard rock. And, as is tradition among the heaviest bands, alongside the dark, violent rockabilly of "Oh Baby", the inclusion of slower, more atmospheric tracks enriches the record, making it more varied. "Unspoken Words" is a fifties-flavored blues-ballad, with claptonian guitar and a vocal performance in the style of George Harrison.

Quo thus prove they don't want to limit themselves to hard-boogie aggression, penning the melancholy ballad "A Year", which weaves between zeppelinian arrangements and wonderful beatlesian-style pop openings. Enhanced by Lancaster's thrilling guitar solo over a pulsing bass line, "A Year" is undoubtedly among the best things the band produced across five albums, a sign of striking growth despite all the difficulties encountered along the way. The elephantine riff of "Big Fat Mama" opens up an incredible shift in tempo within an irresistible rock'n'roll structure, showcasing Parfitt's best vocal qualities and the band's instrumental skill on the wild coda.

While "All The Reasons" blends a baroque feel with the straightforwardness of the most classic folk-ballads, the closing cover of "Roadhouse Blues" (The Doors) is a Lancaster-fronted marathon of over seven minutes, certainly not comparable to the original in terms of vocal performance, but useful in showing just how serious Status Quo are about sonic tightness.

The success of Piledriver sends the English band over the moon, as the album extends Quo's fame throughout the rest of Europe as well. 1972 closes with a New Year's Eve show at the Greyhound in Croydon, followed in early January by one at the prestigious Rainbow Theatre in Finsbury Park, in front of around three thousand people. The group takes off after Colin Johnson's agency merges with that of Billy Gaff, Rod Stewart's powerful manager, forming Gaff Management. The new company bets everything on Status Quo, sending them first to New Zealand and then to Australia in January 1973, for several headlining dates and some supporting Slade. Back home, Rossi and co. head out on tour again, once more filling the Rainbow Theatre, starting to live out the rock dream amid joints, booze and groupies.

These are just the first tastes of success, officially confirmed by their arrival in the United States, where the band performs first at the Sunderland Locarno and then at a private show at the Whisky A Go Go in Los Angeles, in front of A&M Records executives, contacted by Johnson since Vertigo has no operations in the States.

Founded in the 60s by Herb Alpert, A&M Records started out with easy-listening before moving, at the start of the seventies, towards more album-oriented bands like Humble Pie and Procol Harum. American listeners are fully obsessed with hard-blues, thanks to bands like Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, creating a market perfectly suited to Status Quo as well. Of course, the beginnings are never easy, and the 45 dates booked for the group are all opening slots for better-known acts like Slade or Electric Light Orchestra. The band hasn't placed a single album on the American charts, but its name has started to spread, especially in Canada.

To capitalize on the success of Piledriver, the group is called back into Ibc Studios in the second half of 1973, intent on replicating the winning formula of the previous album. Hello! thus follows the same structure, four tracks per side, starting with the new hard-boogie of "Roll Over Lay Down", written by the whole band together with Bob Young, by now effectively the fifth member of Status Quo. While "Claudie" keeps a beatlesian structure within a pop-rock uptempo, "A Reason For Living" veers towards carefree rock'n'roll between barrelhouse keyboards and flashy guitars.

Devoid of any intellectual pretension, the record is a force of nature, with tracks carrying a faint glam flavour like “Blue Eyed Lady” and, above all, the incendiary riff of “Caroline”, re-recorded by the band after an initial 1971 version cut in a slow-blues style. Straddling rock’n’roll and boogie, the track smashes the singles chart and definitively launches Status Quo into the musical stratosphere — not through any particularly original approach, but simply by riding a riff impossible to ignore.

From the pop-tinged blues of “Softer Ride” to the romantic dance of “And It's Better Now”, Hello! certainly manages to match the excellent work of Piledriver, even as it reveals a band with no intention of changing a single ingredient in its winning recipe. And who can blame them, when the album closes with the monumental “Forty Five Hundred Times”, written by Rossi and Parfitt starting from a mellow guitar phrase the guitarist came up with after a few drinks. The pair, who by this point rarely work shoulder to shoulder on composing, stretch that initial Eastern-tinged riff into a thunderous boogie-beat, followed by a swelling rock’n’roll passage carried by guest John Mealing on piano. Dubbed by some the Status Quo equivalent of “Stairway To Heaven”, “Forty Five Hundred Times” is surely destined to become the number-one fan favourite, another adrenaline rush from a band at its peak.

I Saw The Light

In 1973, following the release of Hello!, Status Quo were in demand across Europe, still a fixture at the famous Reading Festival after beating out the formidable Slade to reach number one on the charts. America, however, remained out of reach, not least because A&M Records failed to properly promote a band that was meanwhile taking the UK by storm. There was nothing to do but push harder: the band returned to their usual London studios to record the new album Quo, released on the eve of summer 1974.

The formula stays the same: eight songs for a total running time of under 40 minutes, played at full volume so as not to dent their image as a hard rock band in skin-tight jeans. Things kick off again with the obsessive riff of “Backwater”, another track caught between boogie and rock’n’roll, fading into the tropical drum groove of the following “Just Take Me”, which quickens the pulse with a hard-funky rhythm. The single chosen to drive the album is the sturdy honky-tonk rock-blues of “Break The Rules”, against the wishes of the band, who would have preferred the opening “Backwater”.

The album doesn't disappoint anyone looking for confirmation of the Quo sound, even if it betrays a certain repetitiveness in tracks like “Drifting Away”, which essentially recycles the riff from “Caroline”. This electric fury stems from the greater compositional space granted to Alan Lancaster, who personally steers the following “Don't Think It Matters”, a boogie inspired by the shock-rock of Alice Cooper. It's a heavier approach overall, one that brings Status Quo closer to fans of harder-edged music, while still staying anchored to the classic architecture familiar to hard-blues lovers. Aside from lesser numbers like the country-billy “Fine Fine Fine”, Quo still delivers sonic gems like the hypnotic, swelling ballad “Lonely Man” and the other marathon track “Slow Train”, which in just under eight minutes condenses boogie rhythm, blues scales and pop harmonies, before suddenly morphing into an irresistible Irish jig.

Released in May 1974, Quo climbed the UK charts, peaking at number two and going Gold with sales of over 100,000 copies. The band then set off for the United States, touring from city to city alongside bands like Black Sabbath and ZZ Top. In the States, more and more radio DJs were falling for the band, but A&M's executives seemed more focused on channelling their promotional efforts into records like “Journey To The Centre Of The Earth”, the solo project by Rick Wakeman, which reached number three on the charts despite having no obvious hit singles.

The band's management then decided to turn to Capitol Records, brought in to make a success of the next album, On The Level. The new record is built around the track “Down Down”, inspired by Marc Bolan's debut single, “Debora”. Its success in the UK was staggering: the song topped the singles chart, representing the quintessence of the Status Quo sound, between unforgettable pop refrains and a soaring, powerful riff that carries everything and everyone along with it, despite another nod to “Caroline”. “Down Down” seemed to have everything it needed to conquer the United States too, but Status Quo were destined for disappointment once again, as not even Capitol could solve the problem, and the band remained locked out of heavy rotation on American radio. And yet On The Level proves to be another enjoyable record, even as it keeps the band's now-unmistakable boogie-rock structure unchanged.

From the rock’n’roll of “Little Lady” to the rollicking cover of “Bye Bye Johnny” (Chuck Berry), the English band's new ten songs now run on autopilot, confident they'll please their European fan base. The Rossi-Young partnership pens the bittersweet blues ballad “Most Of The Time”, as well as the shuffle-boogie “I Saw The Light”. Alan Lancaster's contribution, so prominent in the heavier approach of Quo, is slightly scaled back and softened, from the colourful riff of “Over And Done” to the danceable rhythm of “Broken Man”. The band opts for an even catchier sound within their hard-boogie framework, as on “Nightride” and “What To Do”, while reining themselves in for gentler moods like “Where I Am”, with its country reverb shaped almost like a madrigal.

On The Level was a massive success, reaching number one on the UK charts in the winter of 1975. The band set off on another American tour of nearly thirty dates, but the outcome doesn't change, and recognition remains elusive. After more than three years of attempts, Status Quo decided to abandon the idea of conquering America, also mindful of the enormous costs tied to touring across the Atlantic. The band had also learned the lesson taught by Slade, who found themselves stuck in a rut after trying to establish themselves in the United States. So why not settle for their enormous success in the UK and across Europe? After all, the band kept on thriving, taking the follow-up, Blue For You, released in March 1976 with production support from Damon Lyon-Shaw, straight to number one as well.

Opening with the raw power, bordering on proto-punk, of “Is There A Better Way”, the new Quo album lives on a delicate balance between inspiration and decline. Commercial success aside, the album features tracks that are starting to show a touch of rust, such as yet another boogie, “Mad About The Boy”, or the catchy hard rock’n’roll of “Ring Of A Change”. More interesting is the slow, swing-blues ballroom feel of the title track, but above all the closing track “Mystery Song”, which opens in psychedelic atmospheres before exploding into a tight hard’n’heavy rhythm.

In between, the new studio material draws a few yawns due to an excessive repetitiveness in the sound, from the same old riff on “Rain” to the pub-blues of “Rolling Home”. Numbers like “That's A Fact” and “Ease Your Mind” are certainly fun to listen to, but the impression Blue For You leaves on the objective listener is that the band's formula could use a fresh coat of paint.

Again and Again

Following the success of Blue For You, Status Quo embarked on a new European tour, taking the stage at Glasgow's Apollo Theatre at the end of October. The Scottish dates were recorded live with the help of the Rolling Stones Mobile Studio, ahead of the release of the band's first live album, simply titled Live!, in the spring of 1977. Unlike almost all live albums released in the late Seventies, Live! contains no overdubs, as if to prove to the world that Status Quo could afford the luxury of not having to fix a single instrumental mistake. Starting with the swelling boogie of “Junior's Wailing”, the album is certainly not free of imperfections, but the band's decision — later regretted by Rossi himself — resulted in the release of a raw, wild, fun record.

From the elephantine riff of “Backwater” to the blues of “In My Chair”, the record runs for over ninety minutes, capturing the full live energy of the band. The standout is undoubtedly the sprawling fifteen-plus-minute version of the gem “Forty Five Hundred Times”, driven by the guitars like a hard-boogie cavalry charge. The other highlight is the “Caroline/Bye Bye Johnny” medley, which stretches out over twelve minutes with a wild drum solo from Coghlan.

Live! takes no prisoners, in other words, capturing across four sides the force of a band at its prime, united in its climb to the top of English rock on the epic closing cover of "Roadhouse Blues". Technical quibbles, rough edges and overdubs aside, the first Status Quo live album is tremendously engaging and fun.

November 11, 1977. Rockin' All Over The World hits the shops, preceded by the title-track single, a cover of John Fogerty from his second solo album. What draws attention isn't just its more pop, orchestral groove – the song shoots straight to number three on the UK chart – but also the immediate impact of working with a new producer, Philip "Pip" Williams. A native of Hillingdon, Middlesex, Pip tried his hand as a musician after hearing Buddy Holly, joining various minor outfits before turning into a fairly sought-after session musician, especially for Sweet. Having moved into record production in the mid-70s, Williams worked with hard rock singer Graham Bonnet, which in turn caught the attention of Status Quo, who hired him after several self-produced albums. By mid-1977, Rossi's feeling is that the band needs a breath of fresh air, given the mounting drug and alcohol problems gripping the group.

After the raw power of Live!, the Quo are after a cleaner sound, accepting the risk of coming across as less hard'n'heavy and thus alienating old fans. Williams's outside input proves crucial in breaking out of the usual boundaries, from the danceable groove of "Baby Boy" to the romantic, dreamy atmosphere of the country ballad "For You". Alan Lancaster would later claim that Williams's production marked the beginning of the disaster, but the public rewards the record, pushing it to number five on the chart, embracing songs as simple as they are catchy like "Dirty Water" alongside the classic boogie-rock of "Hold You Back" and "Hard Time". The band's new sonic direction veers toward a vibrant country-rock on "Can't Give You More", smoothing out the last rough edges with easy-listening-leaning harmonies, as on "Too Far Gone". The experiment works because it's still grounded in a solid rhythmic foundation, though more than one old fan is entitled to raise an eyebrow.

Status Quo's fame shows no sign of fading, even after the release of a riskier record like Rockin' All Over the World. The band embarks on a new Australian tour before returning home by year's end, where virtually every date has to be doubled up. There's barely a breath between one leg and the next, right up to their appearance at Reading Festival, where they're cheered only by the hippie crowd and dismissed like old farts by the new disciples of punk music.

Unfazed by the shifting musical tastes, the Quo release the follow-up If You Can't Stand The Heat…, again produced by Pip Williams. The path traced by Rockin' All Over The World continues the search for a more polished sound, without giving up the viral riff that drives irresistible old-school boogie numbers like "Again And Again". From the bubblegum groove of "I'm Giving Up My Worryin'" to the rock'n'roll sweat of "Gonna Teach You To Love Me", the album tries to keep the band's classic framework intact, alternating the more evocative, romantic moments – the Beatles-esque ballad "Someone Show Me Home" – with the unbridled energy of "Long Legged Linda".

But the transition set in motion by Williams doesn't shy away from unpredictable experiments, like the gospel choirs introduced on the rousing "Oh, What A Night" and the new disco-synth arrangements on "Accident Prone". The producer works to add new pieces to a more varied sound, for instance enlisting The David Katz Horns for a soul touch on the usual boogie of "Let Me Fly", while the tried-and-tested Rossi-Young duo stays the course on the catchy "Like A Good Girl".

Walking the thin line of stylistic change, Status Quo don't miss a beat, taking the album to number three on the UK chart. The band flees the UK for tax purposes, to avoid the sky-high deductions on the river of money flowing in from exhausting tours and album sales. Meanwhile, the first harsh criticism starts coming in from specialist magazines like NME, now riding the crest of the punk wave against a genre deemed stale and repetitive. A difficult period begins, marked by Rick Parfitt's marital troubles and the growing cocaine abuse of Rossi and Lancaster. The initial effects seem essential just to keep going, constantly on tour, but they leave plenty of room for dark lows of anxiety, depression and insomnia. Alcohol is added to the mix too — at least a bottle of whisky and two or three of wine a day for Francis — while Alan Lancaster falls for an Australian girl, leading to constant long-haul flights. Rossi also separates from his wife after the birth of their third child in 1979, retreating to a castle in Ireland, unable to enter the UK for more than sixty days due to his tax exile. The new European tour is cancelled because of a sudden, never clearly identified health issue for Parfitt, but the four have had time to record a new album in Holland, due out at the end of 1979 with a single destined for worldwide fame.

Whatever You Want

Opened by a melodic guitar phrase, the single "Whatever You Want" builds into an irresistible riff, before the obsessive chorus delivers Status Quo into eternal glory. The third album produced by Pip Williams, Whatever You Want tries to recapture the hard-boogie glories of the 70s, easing off the softer tendencies of the previous two studio records. Tracks like "Shady Lady" and "High Flyer" nod to a fresh, powerful rock'n'roll, while "Who Asked You" shines with its combative rhythm.

The album suddenly swerves into dreamy acoustic territory with "Living On An Island", a well-crafted ballad dealing with serious subjects like cocaine addiction and the growing isolation among the band members. Elsewhere on the record, however, a now-irritating repetitiveness creeps in, from the usual catchy boogie of "Your Smiling Face" to yet another trademark riff on "Come Rock With Me". The band seems to fall back on tried-and-true formulas given their lasting commercial success, with "Rockin' On" and "Runaway" offering a string of hundred-mile-an-hour grooves, essentially filler propping up a whole album beyond its standout tracks.

Whatever You Want reaches number three on the UK chart, but the smashing success of the title single masks personal difficulties that translate into a certain compositional thinness.

While Whatever You Want climbs the charts, the situation within Quo becomes increasingly untenable. At the end of 1979, longtime songwriter Bob Young decides to leave the band, tired of playing second fiddle, while the following summer brings tragedy for Rick Parfitt, who loses his two-year-old daughter, drowned in the family pool. The terrible loss crushes the once sunny, easygoing Rick, the showman now embracing the dark side forced upon him by death.

Status Quo cancel another European tour, living through the most paradoxical of situations: while the compilation 12 Gold Bars goes platinum, Rossi and co. wander like lost souls, caught between drugs, paranoia and tears.

But the machine is moving too fast to be stopped just by pulling a handbrake, so at the end of 1980 Just Supposin' is released, bringing in new producer John Eden at the helm — the first record made without Bob Young's contribution as a songwriter. The album launches the band into the new decade with a sound that's at times surprising, thanks to the input of keyboardist Andy Bown, who pushes Rossi and co. toward paths closer to new wave than the classic seventies approach.

"Run To Mummy" adds an unusually prickly touch to the boogie and rock'n'roll foundations, just as the keyboard flourishes on "Name Of The Game" offer a welcome novelty. The choral payoff on the sinuous funky-synth groove of "Don't Drive My Car" deserves applause, showing a first genuine attempt to evolve an increasingly stale sound. Of course, Quo don't abandon the catchy boogie that sells records, as on the single "What You're Proposing", destined to become one of the most important songs in the band's history. The winning combination of killer riffs and choruses seems unstoppable, from "Lies" to "Over The Edge". But within Just Supposin', a few indulgences are inevitable, which can be forgiven when the anthemic "Rock 'N' Roll" kicks in, written to get everyone singing at the top of their lungs with a madrigal-like melody. And the hard-blues gallop of "Coming And Going", with departing member Young on harmonica, works like a fine cloth polishing the silverware.

Just Supposin' is another big commercial success for Status Quo, who are forced to promote the new single "What You're Proposing" on TV despite Rick Parfitt's personal drama. With the autumn tour cancelled, the band quickly returns to the studio to work on several tracks already recorded during the sessions for the last album, releasing Never Too Late in March 1981. The new hit is "Somethin' 'Bout You Baby I Like", already a hit for Tom Jones and performed by Rossi based on the version by Glen Campbell and Rita Coolidge. The other cover that carries the album is "Carol" by Chuck Berry, thanks to an arrangement that closely recalls the explosive groove of "Caroline".

"Take Me Away" and "Falling In Falling Out" are the usual sing-along boogies, while "Don't Stop Me Now" and "Mountain Lady" are among the few standout moments, continuing the new wave-flavoured experimentation of Just Supposin', driven by the hammering, acidic rhythm of Andy Bown's keyboards.

For the rest, while still climbing the British charts, Never Too Late sounds like an album of B-sides. The record is taken on tour, after Parfitt's request to return to the stage as a way of getting through this delicate moment. Nearly seventy dates across Europe in the spring of 1981, with Rossi increasingly fuelled by cocaine, consumed in huge quantities after his divorce and move to Ireland. Now added to the mix are quadruple shots of tequila and Mandrax pills, a powerful sedative used to treat anxiety and insomnia.

The shows in early 1982 border on the unworkable, pushing the sober drummer John Coghlan to breaking point, and he decides to leave the group before the recording in Switzerland of the new album 1+9+8+2. None of his bandmates, by now lost in the dark depths of addiction, lift a finger to stop him, so Pete Kircher is brought in, at the time working as a session man for the Nolan Sisters.

The new line-up is thus ready for its studio debut, with the new single "She Don't Fool Me" opening with jingle-jangle guitars before yet another bouncy boogie.

The internal crisis within the English band produces a work that borders on self-parody, with the same sonic tricks repeated over and over, as if to paper over a complete lack of ideas. "Young Pretender" apes certain glam numbers from a decade earlier, while "Get Out And Walk" bets everything on sheer pace and catchy choruses. Better is Alan Lancaster's composition "I Love Rock And Roll", which incorporates a vague disco-funk groove, with the following "Dear John" pulling the album up the charts with an Elton John-esque tone. For the rest, from the synthetic hammering of "Doesn't Matter" to the hard-pop of "I Want The World To Know", 1+9+8+2 is an empty and utterly forgettable album, and yet it incredibly tops the UK charts, proof of the band's by-now legendary status.

The end of the road?

After the success of 1+9+8+2, Status Quo head out on tour again, arriving in summer at the famous Monsters of Rock Festival at Castle Donington. Album sales are booming, and the new compilation From The Makers Of… goes gold, taking off the band's urgent need to release a new studio record. Rossi's psycho-physical state keeps worsening, between massive doses of cocaine and several bottles of tequila a day, often pushing him to think about ending it all. He is saved by the skin of his teeth by a new love, an Irish girl named Elizabeth Gurnon, who accepts his lifestyle but pushes him to get himself back together, at least professionally.

Quo thus return to Air Studios in Montserrat, recording what will be the last album with Alan Lancaster, by now increasingly at odds with Rossi both personally and artistically.

Back To Back comes out at the end of 1983, opening with a honky-tonk-style cover of "A Mess Of Blues", made famous by Elvis Presley. Lancaster co-writes with Keith Lamb the saccharine "Ol' Rag Blues", handed to Rossi's vocals against the bassist's own wishes, another skirmish that will lead to the final split. Alongside his new songwriting partner Bernie Frost, Rossi rolls out the boogie-pop of "Can't Be Done", hitting the mark with the danceable uptempo "Marguerita Time", another chart-smashing single that goes on to sell 250,000 copies that year.

While "Too Close To The Ground" shows off piano-bar keyboards in a blues ballad lacking any real bite, "No Contract" fuses a ZZ Top-style riff with overly slick electronic effects. Part of the album tries to keep up with the sound of the times, as in "Your Kind Of Love" and "Stay The Night", which attempt to mimic the synth-pop in vogue in the early Eighties.

At the end of 1983 the band performs on TV during the shows Top Of The Pops and Cannon and Ball, to capitalise on the new big success of the single "Marguerita Time". Status Quo fans, however, are left stunned to see a dummy standing in for Alan Lancaster, covered on stage by Andy Bown's keyboards. Increasingly distant from the rest of the group, the bassist has flown off to Australia for a sabbatical, to stay close to his new girlfriend, leading Rossi to seriously question the band's future. Between a line of cocaine and a bottle of tequila, Francis decides it's time to stop, to put an end to the endless world tours and focus solely on studio work. The band's management is not exactly thrilled, and tries to talk him out of it, but he is adamant and announces that the next tour will be the farewell one, the Status Quo End of the Road Tour. In a frenzy, fans scramble to hunt down tickets, since the tour will only last three months and will take in just a few European countries before more than forty dates in the UK, with the grand finale set for the National Bowl in Milton Keynes.

As he looks over the itinerary, Francis Rossi appears positively gleeful, amid the gloomy faces of his managers, who seriously fear the death of the band, including from a recording standpoint. Having recovered from his grievous loss, Rick Parfitt instead seems utterly desperate, simply unable to imagine himself outside the band, without a life on the road full of fun, parties, groupies and luxury cars. In April, before the opening show at the huge RDS Hall in Dublin, Quo win the prestigious Ivor Novello Award "for Outstanding Contribution to British Music". Several dates later, on a triumphant live run for all the fans who turn out, on the night of 21 July 1984, a thoroughly wasted Rossi watches thousands of tiny black dots recede from the helicopter flying him off towards a new life.

After the birth of his first daughter, Rossi takes just enough time to arrange a cover of "The Wanderer", written by Ernie Maresca for the American singer-songwriter Dion, released as a single and included in the second part of the compilation 12 Gold Bars, which comes out at the end of 1984. Thoroughly opposed to Francis's personal choice, Lancaster and Parfitt get in touch with him in early 1985 to announce their intention to form a band called Quo 2, getting nothing more than a shrug in response.

Rossi actually wants to launch his own solo career, leaning on his songwriting partner Bernie Frost, with whom he meets frequently in Ireland to strum away between one tequila and the next. But his cocaine abuse has become truly serious, up to five grams a day, at an estimated cost of 25,000 pounds a month. He thus starts work on his first solo album, initially titled "Flying Debris", with Pete Kircher on drums and Andy Bown on keyboards, setting out to get as far away as possible from the typical Status Quo sound. Rossi wants to share the credit with his partner Bernie Frost, launching the single "Modern Romance (I Want To Fall In Love Again)", a forgettable danceable synth-pop ditty, in the spring of 1985. The track turns out to be a commercial flop, peaking at number 56 on the charts, while the follow-up "Jealousy", despite veering towards even more overt pop, vanishes into thin air.

The ominous signs convince Vertigo to postpone the album's release, originally planned for Christmas 1985, leaving it in a limbo of illegal bootlegs. Rossi quickly begins to realize that Frost is no Parfitt, and that "Jealousy" itself would probably have been a new hit if arranged with the old band.

Rolling home

The return to the scene of Status Quo starts with a phone call from manager Colin Johnson to Francis Rossi, relaying Bob Geldof's proposal to include the band in a charity supergroup project called Band Aid. Johnson explains to Rossi that there will be a huge number of internationally renowned artists involved, and that it would be a great opportunity to reform the Quo. The project will produce the single "Do They Know It's Christmas?", written by Geldof with Midge Ure (Ultravox) to raise public awareness of the severe food crisis in Ethiopia. Rossi and Parfitt agree to take part in the recording sessions for the single, which will go on to sell millions of copies and stay at number one for five consecutive weeks. The British track is answered by the American version, "We Are The World", which manages to sell over ten million copies, leading Geldof to propose a mega charity event to be held in both the UK and the US in the summer of 1985: Live Aid.

But Rossi is far from convinced: entering the studio with Parfitt for a day is one thing, planning the live return of Status Quo at Wembley Stadium is quite another. "Bob, we're not a band anymore," Rossi explains to Geldof, "we haven't even been in the same room for about a year." "I don't give a damn," Geldof shouts back, "get back together for one day, it doesn't matter how you'll sound once you're there." The main problem is Alan Lancaster, who would have to fly back from Australia to perform for just a quarter of an hour with his now-despised former bandmates. Surprisingly, the bassist agrees, given the noble cause behind the event, boarding that ironic new helicopter that carries the Quo in front of 70,000 delirious fans. When the riff of "Caroline" kicks in, something clicks in Rossi's head and heart, as he realizes just how beloved Status Quo still are after all these years, on a par with sacred monsters like Queen, Led Zeppelin, David Bowie and Paul McCartney.

The appearance at Live Aid marks a turning point in the career of Status Quo, now effectively ready to start over with Rossi and Parfitt back on board. Meet-and-greets with fans are organized, while the two exchange new ideas drawn from their respective first attempts at solo records. Vertigo decides to force the issue, legally threatening the band, which still owes the label one more album under contract. Rossi, unwilling to work with Lancaster again, tells the label's executives that he and Parfitt are enough to call it a genuine group album. Back in Australia after Live Aid, the bassist doesn't take the exclusion well, accusing the others of betrayal and launching a legal battle over the use of the Status Quo name. While the case makes its way to the English High Court, Rossi recruits a new rhythm section, made up of bassist John Edwards and drummer Jeff Rich, old acquaintances of producer Pip Williams from his days with the Judie Tzuke Band. With the new line-up in place, the Quo get the green light from the judges to keep using the name, also paying Alan Lancaster a six-figure sum to avoid any future legal retaliation.

So it's back to the studio, with Williams again behind the mixing desk, paving the way for the release of In The Army Now with the single "Rollin' Home", rock'n'roll in the band's classic style, penned by John David. The comeback album naturally runs on autopilot, choosing not to shake up the sonic blueprint so beloved by fans after the flop of Back To Back. Rossi and Frost co-write the pleasant boogie-pop of "Calling", as well as the synthetic midtempo "In Your Eyes", clearly still carrying echoes of their recent solo duo attempt. Parfitt returns to the fore with the most classic of bouncing riffs ("Save Me"), while the following title track is a new cover from the duo Bolland & Bolland, another huge hit across half of Europe thanks to its slow, atmospheric groove.

From the unleashed horns of "Dreamin'" to the old hard rock glories of "End Of The Line", the album has no intention of taking risks, preferring the comfort of the familiar. Good news for the band's fans, less so for winning over new admirers in the shifting, experimental landscape of the mid-'80s. While "Invitation" veers toward a rather dated country-pop, the cover of "Speechless" (Ian Hunter) wins over with the brilliance of its arrangements, as does the closing section of "Overdose", which blends the riff with melodic openings in the style of The Who. Enough to save the team with a last-minute clearance off the line at the first match of the new musical season.

Needless to say, In The Army Now brings Status Quo new gold records, reclaiming the top of the charts both in the UK and across the rest of Europe. The band returns to the stage opening for Queen and Rod Stewart, taking part in the Prince's Trust Rock Gala at Wembley Arena in London. It's just the appetizer before a fresh glut of dates across Europe lasting until the end of 1986, with a renewed sense of euphoria, free of Alan Lancaster's weight and with full control over the rest of the band.

While Rossi grapples with health problems caused by the huge amounts of cocaine he's consumed over the years, the Quo take part in another charity event, this time an anti-apartheid show in South Africa.

The performances, however, are a disaster, casting a sinister shadow over the next studio album, Ain't Complaining, released in June 1988. Back in a state of confusion, Rossi has to mediate between the record label's pressure, the compositional ambitions of the new members, and above all the need to modernize the sound further after having smoothly cruised on autopilot with In The Army Now. The result is dismal, starting with the robotic rhythm applied to the usual boogie-rock of the title track, confirming just how much trouble the band has in renewing its magic formula. The new rhythm section is tasked with trying its hand, without much success, on the melodic uptempo "Everytime I Think Of You", while Parfitt fumbles around confusedly with synthesizers on "One For The Money".

Everyone chips in on the album, even keyboardist Andy Bown, who drifts into mediocre synth-pop on "Another Shipwreck", followed by the hollow romanticism of "I Know You're Leaving" and the baffling country–western violin played by Graham Preskett on "Cross That Bridge". The Rossi-Frost pairing doubles down on pop with "Cream Of The Crop", also co-writing the single "Burning Bridges (On And Off And On Again)", which leans even harder into the choruses, in an odd blend with sounds that could have come straight out of an Irish pub. Even though the stadium-style chorus – tellingly borrowed years later by Manchester United FC – works commercially, Ain't Complaining is among the band's worst albums, in dangerous free fall after their triumphant comeback.

Perfect remedy

In the summer of 1988, Status Quo are booked for fourteen nights at the Olimpiysky National Sports Complex in Moscow, a huge indoor arena built for the 1980 Olympics. Rossi is desperate, since decent cocaine isn't easy to find in Russia, so he decides to drown his addiction with heavier doses of alcohol. Back home, he finally decides to quit, but feels increasingly depressed and exhausted. He needs a jolt, something to focus on — like heading off to the Compass Point studios in Nassau, Bahamas, provided by Chris Blackwell of Island Records, for the new album with Pip Williams.

Perfect Remedy comes out in November 1989, opening with the airy "Little Dreamer", yet another variation on the theme of "Caroline". Hopes are dashed by the following "Not At All", a dull little blues-tinged march, as the rest of the album remains flat and unable to give any real meaning to the Quo's new direction. The title track settles for a catchy riff, while "Address Book" carries on with the country-pop litany of recent releases.

Tracks like "The Power Of Rock" show a certain ambition, at least a desire to return to past glories, but in the end the band just goes around in circles, either taking refuge in the safe harbor of boogie ("The Way I Am" and "Man Overboard") or trying something different that, paradoxically, leans on the most traditional of western rhythms ("Going Down For The First Time").

And this time commercial disaster is just around the corner, as fans punish the album by shutting it out of the UK Top 20, prompting management to limit the promotional tour to the UK alone, with just two sold-out shows in London.

It thus seems clear that Status Quo won't survive the 1990s, but then an angel falls from the sky: his name is David Walker. Sporting a huge grin and immaculately styled hair at all times, Walker had made a name for himself in the music business through Sweet, for whom he'd secured a major deal with Polydor Records. He had then founded Handle Artists Management together with talent agent Lindsay Brown, coming into contact with Pip Williams from the mid-80s onward. Walker is an imposing presence, the classic larger-than-life character, and as soon as he gets in touch with Rossi he makes it clear that his services won't come cheap. The Quo have no alternative and follow his instructions to the letter: no plans at all for 1990, the only priority is finding a real hit that can relaunch the band in a big way.

In October the new compilation Rocking All Over The Years is set for release, alongside a stroke of marketing genius: including a single to celebrate the band's 25th anniversary. Between September and December, “The Anniversary Waltz” duly arrives, a two-part medley featuring some of the band's biggest hits from the 50s onward. From “Let's Dance” to “Lucille” and “Long Tall Sally”, the Quo crank up the volume to recapture a festive atmosphere, a statement of intent showing the world they have no intention of giving up. The experiment works, and the single sells thousands of copies, climbing to number two on the UK chart.

Walker's next move is to get the band onto the bill of the Silver Clef Award Winners, a charity event at Knebworth Park in London in front of 120,000 spectators. Rossi's newfound sobriety fuels the whole band to perform with tremendous enthusiasm and focus, captivating the crowd ahead of a new UK tour celebrating the 25th anniversary live on stage. For the occasion, Walker organizes the departure of a train dubbed the Quo Express, cranking up the media machine with a flood of invitations to journalists, music critics and photographers. The new manager is an unstoppable force, determined to get the band working non-stop again as they did in the 70s, announcing one tour after another while awaiting the new album, scheduled for September 1991.

Rock 'til You Drop, the first record since the start of the Walker era, signals from its very cover a return to essential, guitar-driven hard rock. Parfitt and Rossi seem happy to be playing together again, even though the two will be sharply divided over the record's merits, which also sees Williams depart after the total flop of the previous two albums. It opens with the heavy riff of “Like A Zombie”, launching into a supersonic, southern-flavored boogie, before veering into the blues of “All We Really Wanna Do”. Rossi seems to find fresh vocal energy, while the whole band rediscovers its spark on well-arranged, anthemic tracks like “One Man Band” and “Can't Give You More”.

Without much fuss, the band goes back to basics, crafting songs the old-fashioned way: fast, powerful and, of course, catchy. The R&B covers “Let's Work Together” and “Bring It On Home” are enjoyable, and it's a pleasure to hear the classic “Forty Five Hundred Times” again, revisited here in a sprawling version running over twelve minutes.

Despite having regained at least the right amount of grit, the Quo pay a commercial price after years of uncertainty, managing to land “only” tenth place on the UK chart. The live side of things fares considerably better, with a world record set through a curious stunt that sees the band perform in four English cities on the same day, from Sheffield to London. Another golden nugget for prospector David Walker, who takes Rossi and co. to the Brit Awards ceremony and then, immortalized as wax figures, to the famous Madame Tussauds museum.

In November 1992, Live Alive Quo is released, the first record since signing the new deal with Polydor Records, recorded off BBC Radio 1 broadcast feeds during one of the dates on the anniversary tour at Sutton Park, Birmingham. Aside from classics like “Whatever You Want” and the more recent “In The Army Now”, the album stands out for the twenty-plus-minute “Roadhouse Medley”, which opens with the Doors cover before folding in band tracks like “The Wanderer” and “Marguerita Time”.

Don't Stop

In the summer of 1994, Francis Rossi himself takes charge of the new studio album titled Thirsty Work, which unfortunately falls short of the expectations built up among fans and critics after the solid Rock 'til You Drop. The first single released in another attempt to climb the commercial charts is “I Didn't Mean It”, a hybrid of rock'n'roll, boogie and pop penned by John David. The other track that labors to carry the album is the usual boogie-blues of “Rude Awakening Time”, further proof that the band is still struggling to balance old and new. Among the album's best moments is the opener “Goin' Nowhere”, which leans into a power-pop sound more in line with the musical trends of the mid-Nineties.

The Quo opt for a sprawling, nearly hour-long record with a full sixteen tracks, several bordering on filler. There's the glossy romantic ballad (“Restless”, a Jennifer Warnes cover), semi-orchestral experimentation (“Lover Of The Human Race”), and overall a more pop-oriented approach on tracks like “Sherri, Don't Fail Me Now!”. The rest is thoroughly forgettable, from the jokey uptempo “Ciao-Ciao” to the blaring riff of “Soft In The Head”. The album indeed fails to even crack the Top 10 at home, while the britpop phenomenon is in full bloom—something magic man David Walker seems to be ignoring, as he instead pushes the band toward catchy pop devoid of any real creative spark.

In the winter of 1996, to celebrate the band's 30th anniversary, Polydor releases Don't Stop, a party album recorded with Pip Williams and made up entirely of covers. The underlying idea is to pay tribute to the artists who most influenced the English band, from the Beach Boys (“Fun Fun Fun”) to Chuck Berry (“You Never Can Tell”). There's naturally the Beatles' “Get Back”, Creedence Clearwater Revival (“Proud Mary”) and Fleetwood Mac (“Don't Stop”). Good news for collectors who love the band, less so for anyone hoping for something new in the studio, but overall it's a pleasant, undemanding listen.

To promote Don't Stop, hundreds of TV stations are brought in, ready to host Rossi and co. and give airtime to the new covers. Not only that: Walker manages to convince Brian Wilson to join the Quo on their UK tour, drawing in a more “nostalgic” crowd, while most young listeners are by now swept up in the new sound of Nirvana and Blur. Rossi himself begins to wonder whether the band should return to being a guitar-oriented outfit after their recent, more pop-leaning records, clashing for the first time with Walker, who is instead focused on expanding the Status Quo brand, sensing the emergence of a kind of counter-market: “classic rock”. An admission of creative death? Certainly not as severe as the one about to befall Rick Parfitt, who suffers a heart attack that forces him to undergo a quadruple coronary bypass.

The band's activities are thus temporarily halted, with the gap on the release front filled by the massive compilation Whatever You Want – The Very Best Of Status Quo. Having recovered within a few months, Parfitt returns to the Quo for a new world tour in 1998, drawing more than two million spectators across the four corners of the globe.

The underlying tension between Walker and Rossi suddenly flares up when the former organizes a short run of promotional shows for the new album Under The Influence, released after signing with Eagle Records in the spring of 1999, produced by newcomer Mike Paxman. These are small shows held in large pubs, promoted by Walker under the slogan “Get Quo to Play in Your Boozer”, as if linking the new studio record to themes of alcohol abuse—something Rossi flatly rejects, having regained his sobriety.

Despite sales volumes falling short of expectations, Under The Influence is a thoroughly convincing album in the new chapter of Quo. "Twenty Wild Horses" grittily blends rock approach with folk phrasing, while the title track and the following "Round And Round" bring back the boogie backbone dressed up as pleasant melodic rock.

Parfitt recounts his latest health misadventures in the folk-blues "Shine On", also crafting a potential hit in "Little White Lies", likely penalized by the shifting musical trends of the moment. From the country-billy "Little Me And You" to the hard rock hammering of "Making Waves", the record is surprisingly fresh and fun, still able to keep the English band intact beyond their ongoing live success.

But Rossi is not at all happy with the promotional handling of the album, having grown tired of seeing his band treated like a brand or an endless marketing exercise. Undeterred by any pressure, Walker puts together another sensational campaign, putting the band on the Great South Pacific Express, Australia's answer to the Orient Express, for a tour in early 2000. Or even having them perform live on TV in the house of the Norwegian edition of Big Brother. Quo take part in the Night of the Proms event, with a philharmonic orchestra alongside Simple Minds and UB40, cashing in handsomely by licensing several hits for TV advertising.

Again at Walker's instigation, the band records another album, Famous In The Last Century, released in spring 2000 and once again made up entirely of covers, a sort of Don't Stop 2 featuring the best picks from 20th-century music. Neither Rossi nor Parfitt like the idea at all: another covers album after having worked so well on Under The Influence. But Walker is immovable and, as always, the idea of selling hundreds of thousands of copies wins everyone over. From "Old Time Rock And Roll" to "Roll Over Beethoven", by way of "Good Golly Miss Molly" and "Hound Dog", the result is dismal, not only because of the choice of by-now-tired songs, but above all because of the flat, lackluster arrangements chosen by the band, as if unconsciously trying to sabotage a project they'd accepted reluctantly and executed even worse.

The party isn't over

After the release of the dreadful Famous In The Last Century, drummer Jeff Rich leaves the band on the eve of a massive new world tour. He's replaced by Matt Letley, who had already worked with a-ha and Bob Geldof, and is valued by Rossi for his superb technique and serene temperament. Francis is increasingly plotting a strategy to get rid of Walker, who has already predicted the band's artistic and commercial death within two years at most. Parfitt and Rossi realize this has more to do with his own future than theirs, since Walker, nearing sixty, is thinking about retirement and intends to drag Status Quo down with him. Death itself ends up resolving the situation, as Walker suddenly passes away in August 2001 from a heart attack while celebrating his son's birthday. Rossi is genuinely in shock, having seen him looking much better after years of drug dependency, but can't shake a happy thought lurking at the back of his mind, because now the band is finally free to take back full control, with complete freedom.

Simon Porter is hired to replace Walker, and is immediately told the plan is to push things to the max again ahead of a planned retirement from the scene by 2008. Porter will have to ensure the band produces worthy records, without entirely scrapping some of the promotional strategies inherited from Walker in order to keep making a mountain of money. The new manager knows Walker's work very well, having himself worked closely with hard-edged acts like Motörhead, Uriah Heep and Damned.

The release in September 2002 of the album Heavy Traffic confirms the direction taken, marking an aggressive return to the Quo sound helped also by the reunited Rossi-Young pairing. The band is buzzing with excitement as they walk through the doors of State of The Ark Studios, working once again with producer Mike Paxman with the stated aim of winning back the old fans who had jumped ship over the previous decade. No covers, no ballads, no pop. Simply a direct, no-frills record to kickstart a new artistic life.

The opening with the breezy rock'n'roll of "Blues And Rhythm" is quickly followed by the boogie-rock of "All Stand Up (Never Say Never)", which echoes the rhythm of "Down Down". The classic framework is thus given a fresh coat of paint with the hard riff of "The Oriental", leaning on vintage tones as in "Creepin Up On You". While the title track is the perfect combination of catchiness and groove, "Solid Gold" sees the return of Bob Young's harmonica in a sturdy rock-blues. Andy Bown pens the hypnotic folk-rock of "Green", before putting the pedal down with the explosive riff of "Do It Again".

The album continues with just the right amount of grit, carrying on along the path of blues on "Another Day" and aggressive rock'n'roll on "I Don't Remember Anymore". It closes with the Free-style rhythm of "Rhythm Of Life", made darker by a measured arrangement bordering on heavy. A genuine resurrection for a band that seemed by then to have nothing left to say.

Back in fine form, Status Quo promote Heavy Traffic in classic David Walker fashion, performing on the deck of the HMS Ark Royal in a special set filmed by British TV. The album breaks into the Top 20, once again drawing the interest of old fans, ready to flock back to the big arenas for the promotional tour between late 2002 and early 2003.

Even Riffs, a new covers album following the tensions of Famous In The Last Century, is well received for its energetic versions of classics like "I Fought The Law", "Born To Be Wild" and "Pump It Up". It's all positive energy that fires up the band, ready to head back into the studio for the release of The Party Ain't Over Yet in September 2005. Preceded by the title-track single, a party song made for belting out at the top of your lungs, the album confirms the band's excellent form, gliding smoothly between rock blues ("Gotta Get Up And Go", "Familiar Blues") and heftier boogie numbers ("The Bubble" and "Belavista Man").

In between, Quo have fun experimenting with electric country ("Nevashooda") and even psychedelia on "This Is Me". Tracks like "Velvet Train" and "You Never Stop" stand as a manifesto of a renewed urge to play like they mean to take on the world, with no need whatsoever to sell millions of copies, just to keep flying the Status Quo flag high in rock's sky.

The band's renewed momentum hits a temporary snag at the end of 2005, when the UK tour meant to promote the latest album is completely cancelled due to further health problems for Rick Parfitt. Fortunately the tumor on his vocal cords turns out to be benign, allowing the guitarist to return to the band full-time during 2006. There's the 40th anniversary of Quo to celebrate, and on 1 July 2007 they perform in front of over 60,000 people at the new Wembley Stadium for the hugely anticipated Concert for Diana.

A few months later comes In Search Of The Fourth Chord, with its curious Indiana Jones-style cover art and, above all, a tribute to Moody Blues. The title refers to the criticism leveled at the band for supposedly only ever working with three chords, with Rossi and Parfitt cast as the intrepid explorers searching for some mythical sonic ark. Obviously there's no experimental quest involved, just the classic sound of the English band, who by now seem to have found a gushing wellspring of inspiration. The new single "Beginning Of The End" blasts out three chords at full volume, followed by the piano-driven boogie of "Alright" and the hammering rhythm of "Pennsylvania Blues Tonight". "I Don't Wanna Hurt You Anymore" is typical Quo sound, while "Electric Arena" rolls out a drowsy blues.

From the garage approach of “Gravy Train” to the Irish jig of “Figure Of Eight”, the album wins over listeners through sheer spontaneity, leaving room for new drummer Matt Letley to make his creative mark (“You're The One For Me”) and handing the lead vocal mic for the first time to bassist “Rhino” Edwards (“Bad News”). The result is another successful record, even if the search for that elusive fourth chord remains as hopeless as ever.

Naked, towards the finish line

At the end of 2008 a new celebratory compilation, Pictures – 40 Years Of Hits, is released, including the Christmas single “It's Christmas Time”. While Rossi and Parfitt are honoured with the Order of the British Empire (OBE), press rumours circulate about a possible reunion with bassist Alan Lancaster, initially denied by the band, who are nonetheless mending bridges after years of feuds and lawsuits.

In October 2010 comes the treasured box set Live At The Bbc, containing live recordings drawn from the broadcaster's vast archives between 1966 and 2005.

The following year brings the new album Quid Pro Quo, which lands in the UK market a full four years after their last studio effort, the longest gap ever seen in the band's hugely prolific discography.

Opened by the supersonic boogie of “Two Way Traffic”, the album continues down the path of recapturing the more aggressive sound of the 70s, from the shuffle of “Rock'n'Roll 'n' You” to the hard rock riff of “Dust To Gold”. The band crank up the guitars on “Let's Rock”, experiment with synths on the almost-prog “Can't See For Looking”, and carve out a rock'n'roll with a strong vintage flavour on “Movin' On”.

There's no shortage of the band's now-familiar country-rock inserts (“Any Way You Like It”), and even a touch of hair-metal on the brisk “Frozen Hero”. From the slow electric blues of “Reality Cheque” to the road-worn rock of “The Winner”, it seems the new chapter of Quo has no intention of slowing down. And indeed Quid Pro Quo cracks the UK Top 10, kicking off the new winter tour nicknamed Quofest, alongside special guests such as Roy Wood and Kim Wilde.

The promotional machine keeps rolling, first with the documentary “Hello Quo!”, directed by Alan G. Parker, then with an action comedy starring the band, Bula Quo!, named after the traditional greeting of the Fiji islanders where it was filmed. Naturally, the obligatory soundtrack of the same name followed, released as the band's new album in June 2013.

The record leans into joyful, festive atmospheres, from the airy riff of “Looking Out For Caroline” to the feverish pace of “GoGoGo”. There's the garage explosiveness of “Run And Hide (The Gun Song)”, the speed-heavy rhythm of “Running Inside My Head” and the tropical vibes of “Mystery Island”, written specifically for the film. The rest of the album features several live versions of classic tracks such as “Pictures Of Matchstick Men”, a song rarely revisited by the band in their live discography.

At the end of 2012, drummer Matt Letley announces his decision to leave the band after 12 years of service, though he promises to stay on board to complete the upcoming world tour. In the spring of 2013, the long-standing rift with Lancaster is finally mended with the formation of the Frantic Four, the long-awaited reunion of the three original members alongside the return of drummer John Coghlan. A handful of UK dates are organised, before Letley is replaced by Leon Cave. At the start of 2014, after launching a beer called Piledriver in collaboration with Wychwood Brewery, Quo embark on a new UK tour under the Frantic Four banner, with Rossi stressing that this is the last chance to see the band's classic lineup live.

At the end of the year, Rossi and Parfitt alone perform live in an acoustic set on The One Show, later telling the Bbc about the upcoming release of an album stripped of electricity.

Aquostic – Stripped Bare is released in October, its cover featuring the two frontmen nude, partially shielded by acoustic guitars. A total of 25 classic tracks are rearranged without the usual electric firepower, from the hypnotic symphonic textures of “Pictures Of Matchstick Men” to the clattering rhythm of “Down The Dustpipe”. Fans thus get the chance to hear the Quo catalogue in a more intimate, stripped-down guise, spanning the folk-blues of “Caroline” and the sparkling country-billy of “Down Down”.

The record is thoroughly accomplished, so much so that Parfitt himself admits some versions actually surpass the originals. The wild stomping rhythm of “Paper Plane” is enriched with accordion flourishes, while “All The Reasons” comes back to life with the intense pub-rock spirit of certain Rod Stewart performances. The tracklist follows the band's long-ago albums in chronological order, from the barrelhouse swing of “Reason For Living” to the melancholic, choral intensity of “And It's Better Now”.

Tracks like “Claudie” are presented in a convincing, Spector-esque wall-of-sound, while the old boogie sound finds fresh life again in “Rain” and “Again And Again”.

In October 2014 the band present the new acoustic album at London's Roundhouse, with the concert recorded live by the Bbc. The performance is released as Aquostic – Live At The Roundhouse, which proves a major commercial success. The acoustic mood resonates so strongly that the band announce the Last of The Electrics Tour at the start of 2016, raising the prospect that they might never perform live in electric format again.

And indeed the following album, Aquostic II – That's a Fact! repeats the experiment, once again retracing Quo's career from the tropical rhythm of "That's A Fact" to the apocalyptic strings of "Backwater". There's room, though, for a few new songs, such as the romantic ballad "One For The Road", penned by Andy Bown, and the madrigal-style "One Of Everything". The album reaches number seven on the UK chart, despite featuring tracks less striking than those on the first installment.

On 28 October 2016, Rick Parfitt announced to the world his definitive retirement from the stage, following another heart attack. The true soul of Status Quo alongside Rossi, Parfitt died in a hospital in Marbella, Spain, struck down by a severe infection after a shoulder injury. His funeral was held at Woking Crematorium in Surrey.

But this grievous loss didn't stop the band, which settled on Irish guitarist Richie Malone, who had already stepped in to replace Parfitt after he withdrew from touring. Malone thus completed the line-up for the recording sessions of the band's latest album, Backbone, released in September 2019 and produced by Francis Rossi himself. The opening track is "Waiting For A Woman", a muscular rock-blues number co-written with Bob Young, followed closely by the classic hard-boogie of "Cut Me Some Slack". "Liberty Lane" is an energetic rock'n'roll number in the style of Ac/Dc, while "I See You're In Some Trouble" revisits the band's sonic trademarks with its pop catchiness.

On the whole, the album doesn't change the approach Quo have taken since the late '90s, from the simple freshness of "Backing Off" to the vintage flavour of "I Wanna Run Away With You". The change of guitarist following Parfitt's death is of course noticeable, a loss that might have been expected to spell the definitive end of Status Quo. But Backbone is a sincere record, a tribute to Rick's zest for life and above all to his unconditional love for the English band, now firmly in the hands of Francis Rossi alone.

The title track wouldn't be out of place in certain contemporary musical settings, but songs like "Better Take Care" and "Falling Off The World" betray that sense of nostalgia for times gone by. The long, epic era of Status Quo.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google