Crystal tales (Roger Taylor's personal assistant talks to the QFC)
Leonardo Pelz
What was Roger like to look after, did he get in trouble and did he really
have drumsticks with his name printed on them?
Ruth
He was pretty easy to look after, he would have the odd tantrum, but don't
we all at sometime or another. We were very matey so we had a great
rapport with each other, which meant that if something needed doing we
just sat around and talked it over.
Simple really. During the show we could almost lip read each other, and we
had little hand and head signals which meant we could relay messages to
each other very easy and quickly. So, for instance, if he wanted Brians
guitar turned up in his monitors, a couple of quick coded nods and Hey
Presto, job done and we're all happy. He never got in any trouble, but the
pair of us got up to a lot of mischief. Baring the Monaco incident we
never had an encounter with the police and neither of us ever threw a
punch at anyone else. Although during the recording of Fun In Space I'm
sure he wanted to belt me when I blew him up with various exploding
cigarettes, matches, lighters and pepper flavoured chewing gum. We just
had a good time really.
Ruth, you seemed surprised, but yes he did have his name on his sticks.
Some guitarists have their names on their plectrums. He had his name on
his sticks and his face on the bass drum, just in case he ever got amnesia
he would know who he was
Taken from "It ain't much I'm asking" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
Roger would have some sticks in the dressing room and would bash chairs
and tables, and sometimes my head, so his hands were flexible. When they
were dressed and ready to go on, Roger and Freddie would screech. They
didn't have a song to loosen their vocal chords, they would just screech
these high pitched noises. I can assure you it didn't sound very musical
to me.
If a stick broke Roger would just change sticks, he had about a dozen
hanging on his floor tom-tom. If the bass drum pedal broke I would grab a
new one and dive on to the riser, lying face down between his stool and
the floor toms. Most of the time he will have moved his foot as much as
possible, but if he hadn't I would tap his ankle so he knew I was there
and he would move his foot so the offending pedal could be swapped.
Taken from "Today the Headlines" - Yesterdays Moment QFC
The city and hotel will remain nameless to protect the guilty. After a
night of huge amounts of booze, Roger and me ended up back at the hotel
with a couple of rather lovely looking ladies, and somewhere along the
line we picked up a good looking journalist as well. I think she was only
along for some fun and not to write a story because as far as I know she
never wrote this one. A few more drinks were consumed, and as five people
can't play Scrabble, the journo had to go for obvious reasons. We put our
thinking caps on to work out how to get rid of her when Roger came up with
a game plan, "Let's drown her." It seemed like a good idea at the time so
I said "OK, but how are we gonna do this?" The reply was, "I'll get her in
the pool and you tread on her head." I agreed with this masterpiece, so
the five of us set off to the roof where the pool was, only to be greeted
by another minor setback, the two 8ft plate glass doors were locked. I
gave them a tug and could see the lock itself, so now it was my turn to
come up with a plan. "If we take a handle each and gently rock the doors
back and forth, the lock will pop out and we're in." Brilliant. The pair
of us start to rock the doors and after a couple of minutes some weird
vibration thing must have happened in the glass, because the inevitable
occurred, both the doors shattered in front of us and there was glass
everywhere. Whoops. Forget plan A, plan B was a cock up, so at times like
this always use plan C and get the hell away from the scene of the crime.
This little episode had both a happy and sad ending, the journo finally
got the hint and left, but sadly I can't remember if either of us got
lucky that night. Such is life.
Taken from "Ain't No Escaping" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
While he was waiting for his luggage at L.A. airport, a guy came up to
him and said "You're him, I know who you are, can I get your autograph
cause you're famous, I know who you are, you're him I know it." Rog was
giving him a polite smile and was just about to sign for him when he
suddenly blurted out, "You are him, I know it, you're Warren Zevon." He
left feeling a complete dickhead. Still in the good old U.S.of A., Mr
Taylor had a close encounter with Andy Williams. They said their Hi's and
Andy starts off, "Man, I love your album, it sounds great, I really love
it." Rog was thanking him for his praise when Andy chirps in again, " Man,
that Dark Side Of The Moon is brilliant." Now lets be honest with each
other, Warren Zevon maybe, but one of The Pink Floyd, I don't think so.
After one of the Japanese tours Roger and myself went for a short break on
the way home. We stopped off in Hong Kong and Bangkok. Whilst in Hong
Kong, one late drunken evening we meet Andy Warhol and ended up chatting
with him for a few hours. (Still to this day I have never understood what
all the fuss about him was, but thats me.) After Warhol died his diaries
were released in print. A few years later I was at a friends place and
while she was getting ready I noticed she had the diaries. I flicked
through the pages until I found the year, and I remembered Warhol saying
he had just come from China and I wanted to see if he mentioned meeting
Rog. I found the Hong Kong section and it read, "Met one of those English
rock bands in the elevator, think it was The Clash." Joe Strummer and Mick
Jones maybe.
We decided one year to go to the Montreux Jazz Festival, so there we are,
Roger, Dave Richards and me, just standing around, having a few drinks and
minding our own business. If anyone knows Dave, he looks more like Warren
Zevon than anyone.The three of us were chatting when out of the blue two
kids, about 12 years old came over and said to ME, "Can we have your
autograph please?" We all looked puzzled and I replied "Why do you want my
autograph?" The little girl said "You are the drummer with Queen aren't
you?" I felt so sorry for her I just said she must have mistaken me for
someone else, and they left.
Taken from "We Was Phased, We Was Pissed" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
Whilst in Montreux we would rent a huge house right on the lake, with the
view on the MIH sleeve. The owner of the house had a thing about ducks
cause they were everywhere, china, porcelain, wood, plastic, you name it
and they were there, so needless to say the place was christened
'Duckingham Palace.' To get to DP from the road meant descending a very
steep, winding staircase through a very well manicured jungle, not easy at
the best of times in the middle of the night. Once inside DP there was a
huge lounge to the left, and to the right up a couple of steps was a very
long corridor where all the bedrooms were, RT's was at the very end.
Dominique happened to be visiting on this occasion, and the three of us
and Dave Richards went to dinner, Swiss wine is excellent and we drank a
couple of vineyards, each. After the meal Dom went back to the house and
the Taylors had to continue on their mission to become the two stupidest
people on the planet, which I can proudly say we succeeded in doing.
By about 3am we decide it is impossible to drink Montreux completely dry,
so we threw in the towel, but now I've got a huge problem, I would have
trouble getting myself home but I had another idiot with me who was in a
worst state than me. I managed to sober up briefly to get us back to the
house but we've now got to negotiate the stairs. The pair of us are
brainless with a major fit of the giggles, it's pitch black and Rogers got
his dark glasses on. We get about ten steps down and I hear an almighty
thud and when I turn around Roger has hit the deck and I said "Are you
OK." He replies "Yeah, but the ground keeps coming up at me." I go over to
help him up, and as I'm pulling him, down I go. By this time we're pissing
ourselves laughing and rolling around the jungle. We finally get to our
feet and continue onwards, with me leading and him leaning on me for
support.
Phase one over and the door is insight, and we're singing, dancing and
swaying in every possible direction. Once at the door I can't find the
correct key let alone the lock, and while I'm groping away at the door Rog
was propped up against the wall with his head down and his glasses fell
off. Being fab I noticed this and picked them up, got the door open and in
we went. Once inside he said he was going straight to bed and proceeded up
the long corridor, bouncing off each of the walls like a ball in a pinball
machine, needless to say I'm cracking up and when he got to the end I said
"Rog, do you want your glasses?" He then turns around and does the same
walk back again, when he reaches me I put out my hand which was holding
his glasses and a big bunch of keys, and yeah you guessed it, he took the
keys. Off he goes again playing pinball, but this time he's trying to put
a bunch of keys on his nose. When he was just outside his room I yelled,
"Do you want these glasses or not?" He yells back "Yeah, thanks CT." By
this time I'm in dire need to find a toilet cause I thought it was so
funny. He finally gets to me and puts his glasses on, has one more trip of
pinball, flings open the bedroom door, turns on all the lights and bellows
"Darling, I made it." I will leave it to your own imagination as to what
Dom said.
Taken from "The Monaco Grand Prix" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
"Do you fancy going to the Monacco Grand Prix, all expenses paid?" That's
the first thing I heard when Rick Parfitt phoned me, but I needed to know
more so Roger and I met at Ricks house later that day to get the whole
story. Looking back at it now we should have been suspicious 'cause he
started, "I met a man in a pub who's a TV producer and he wanted to know
if I would like to go to Monacco, and be filmed watching the Grand Prix. I
said Yeah, but if my mate Rog comes along you'll get Queen and Quo, and we
have to take Crystal who looks after us both." He then proceeded to tell
us that we would have a Lear Jet, stocked with Champagne and Caviar, to
fly us to Nice, a helicopter from Nice to Monacco then a limo to the
hotel. So far so good. Once there we would have the correct passes to go
everywhere and the use of a huge boat, once again stocked with the works,
and all meals, hotels, drinks etc.paid for. Sounds great. RT and RP are
both fast car freaks, so they were in seventh heaven, me, I couldn't give
a toss, I just like going places and this had all the makings of a good
time. How wrong can you be.
The big day arrives and the limo picks me up at home and I head off to get
Rog, and then on to Ricks, then to Biggin Hill Airport. We're sitting
around at the private sector and I'm looking for a Lear Jet but can't see
one, so off I go to locate the pilot. "Where's the jet mate?" I ask. The
first shock of the day comes when he tells me we don't have one, and
points to some dodgy little plane with propellers. Oh well, "Is there any
booze on it?" A big NO was his reply, so off I go on a mission to locate
stacks of alcohol (We're all nervous flyers) Somebody tightened the
elastic band and this excuse for a Lear Jet finally got off the ground.
We're getting nicely tanked up as we wave goodbye to the White Cliffs of
Dover, and greet Calais on our trip south, when the plane starts to
descend. What now? We land in Dijon to get fuel and the airstrip won't
take the pilots card, so Rick uses his Amex and it seemed to take forever,
but we finally get back in the air and continue to calm our nerves. It was
a long flight, but a few jokes and a few too many slurps kept it all
lighthearted until the pilot turned and said, "Do you guys wanna see
Marseilles by night, it's really pretty?" I replied with a stern no, but
we still saw it. After a seven hour flight we finally land in Nice and we
get to meet the man from the pub, who's name I can't remember, but he did
have a incredibly defective haircut and instantly became known as the
poodle.
Once the bad flight was out of the way, it all went down hill. "Where's
the helicopter?" I ask. "We dont have one.""Where's the limo then?" "We
don't have one.""Well how the f*** do we get to Monacco then"The poodle
informs us that he has a car and he's gonna drive. When we get to his car,
it's a Renault 5 and theres us three with luggage and the poodle. We cram
in and set of, making a very long detour into the center of Nice to pick
up Mrs Poodle, now were very uncomfortable and apart from not being used
to driving on the right, he's also a terrible driver. I had quite a few
visions of joining Grace Kelly. When we finally get to the hotel I go into
tour mode, approach the desk, "Hi, you have three rooms for us, Mr. R
Parfitt, Mr. R Taylor and Mr. C Taylor." Another slap in the face when he
says, "No sir, we only have two, Mr. R Taylor and Mr C Taylor, and the
hotel is full." Nice one Rick, you organise the trip and you don't have a
room. I let RP have my room and the poodle and myself go off in search of
another hotel. Check in, drop the bags and head straight to hotel 1 to get
the other two and go to dinner, to a restaurant that Monsieur Poodle has
booked. Of all the great eateries in France, he has to pick the worst, but
it did have good wine, lots of good wine. Once dined he then lets me know
he doesn't have any Francs and could I lend him some? I don't think so, so
I pay for dinner. All expenses paid eh, It's costing each of us a lot of
money so far. Next we go to a club that is recommended by our canine host,
we wait outside for 30 mins. while he arranges everything for us, and
guess what, they don't let us in, not wearing ties or something.
It's been a long day so it's time to knock it on the head, should of
knocked the poodle on the head 'cause he knows another club around the
corner. He did make it sound appealing with his description of female
clientele. Once inside this huge complex we managed to loose poodle, and
we're wandering around corridors looking for the entrance and we walk
round a corner, and lo and behold there's blue flashing lights and about a
dozen cops, all with their guns pointing straight at us. It's amazing how
your instincts tell you you're well and truly in the shit. They frisk us
and they must have known we were VIP's cause we each had our own car to
take us straight to jail, no passing go and no collecting �200. Even
though they threw us in the same cell, for some strange reason they left
the door open, which is now a good cue for the drummer to make stupid
comments. " C'mon CT, we've done nothing wrong, let's go, let's just walk
out of here." My reply to that was something on the lines of, I don't
think so. Then the two of them chirp up, "Tell them who we are." Once
again I replied, I don't think so, you tell them who you are. We were free
to walk at about 7am, and I must say that the cops were very nice to us.
Bedtime at last. Day 2 and nothing else can go wrong, or can it?
We get the passes from the poodle, and needless to say we don't have the
right ones, but years of dealing with passes I know just about every trick
under the sun, and we're in the backstage area of the Grand Prix. We head
to the boat which is laid on for us, but the motor racing people make us
feel unwelcome, so we clear off. Roger is getting feed up with all this
and kept saying we should go home. My theory was, we're here, let's make
the most of it. While all this is going on we had a camera following us
filming every little move, after all that's what we came for. Later that
day Jim Beech flew in, not to bale anyone, just to hang out. Evening
arrives and I book a really good restaurant and refuse to tell the poodle
where it is. We have an amazing meal, even better wine, and Rog is once
again happy. We all decide to have an early night, RT and RP to hotel 1,
CT to hotel 2, and JB to where ever he was staying.
When I go to reception and ask for my key, the little chap said, "Ah,
Monsieur Tayleeeeer, you 'ave shanged roams." No I have not. "Oui
Monsieur, we 'ave taken your bags to you new roam.". What the hell, I'm
too tired to argue, if my luggage is there, no problem. When I open the
door, no huge bed like my last room, two single beds, and some strange
bloke in one of them. "Oi, who the f*** are you?" I bellowed. The poor
bloke woke from a deep sleep and shat himself. It turned out he was an
Italian journalist who the poodle had flown in to do interviews with Rog
and Rick. I hurled abuse at this guy for a while and then realised that
he'd done nothing wrong, it was all to do with the poodle. I phoned hotel
1 and told Rog what was going on, and finally had to agree with him and
get the hell outta here. He phoned and woke the poodle and, as I wasn't
there, can only presume that he used some very colourful language. Day 3,
and the first thing on the agenda is to get three 1st class airline
tickets from Nice, and a helicopter from Monacco to Nice. Done. Race day,
and I have to admit it was quite a buzz, 'cause by now I've wangled all
sorts of passes and we're down in the pits with all drivers, and these
guys have some great looking girls hanging around. Giddy up. When you're
standing on the start line of a Grand Prix and all those cars rev up it is
impossible to describe the noise and volume, it's quite amazing. We caught
about half hour of the race before we had to leave, and even though we had
only been gone three days, it was great to get back to Blighty and go
straight to the pub and have a good laugh about the whole weekend. The
strange thing is, the poodle actually made a TV show out of it, and it was
quite good.
Taken from "Nicknames" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
During sound checks Roger would spend forever tuning his kit, and during
the show, with the heat of the lights and his pounding, would continue
tuning during the show. On one occasion, sound check over and kit perfect,
we head off until showtime. During the first number of the set RT is
looking a bit put out, and after the first song starts frantically
re-tuning the drums. This continues for quite a few songs until he starts
to look relaxed. After the show Shag is summoned to the dressing room, and
RT said, "Er Shag, after the soundcheck did you re-tune my kit? And the
reply was, "Oh no Rog, I wouldn't do that, I just tightened up the loose
ones." Back in Berlin and it's five minutes before show time, and Gerry
comes up to me and says, "Look's like you've got your old job back for
tonight." Why? I look round and Shag is being carted off on a stretcher,
with an oxygen mask, drip and everything. What else can this clown get up
to? For the last two million years Queen have finished the show with Rock
You, then Champions, when the lights would come down, FM running around
like a madman, RT standing up and hitting all his cymbals and playing just
the bass drum with his right foot, BM playing the never ending power chord
whilst keeping an eye on the drummer and JD wondering where we're going
clubbing. As the lighting rig came to a standstill, Rog would sit down,
and cue the rest of the band for the finish with two smacks on the snare
drum and then an almighty crash of the cymbals, and it's over for another
night. Play the tape. Shag had done this a couple of dozen times already,
so you would think he knew. Wrong. On one night, Rogers doing his standing
up bit and our beloved Shag thinks, "The stool is in the way." so he
removes the offending stool. When Roger goes to sit down, there's nothing
to sit on and he goes arse over tit off the back of the riser, and he's
lying there winded. I tell Shag Nasty to hide for a while and try and get
the drummer to his feet, and needless to say he's very pissed off. The
lights have stopped and Brian has played the longest chord in the history
of the universe. Roger finally gets back behind the kit, does the two hits
and cymbal crash to finally finish the show, and then completely trashes
his kit. I'm glad I didn't have to rebuild it. Needless to say, Shag did
not last to long. Until next time.
Taken from "We Watched Them All" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
"Who wants to live forever" had RT so drunk it took forever for him to
hit the cymbal in time with the track. "Rock you" was filmed in Rogers
garden of his new country estate, and as the old owners were still living
there we couldn't use the house. It was snowing and freezing and pretty
damn miserable, but when Freddie turned up he had drank most of a bottle
of Brandy on the journey, so needless to say he could barely stand up
straight in the snow and his hands were so cold he grabbed Ratty's gloves
that he used for loading trucks, and wore them for the filming. Watch and
see.
Roger appeared in Freddies "Pretender" video. It was this point in time
that I was getting a bit suss about the drummer, because he took to this
dressing in womens clothes a bit to easy. When it was finished we all went
back to Garden Lodge, and you had better sit down for this next bit, I was
the only sober one. Roger and me were driving to Montreux the next day to
start work on what was to end up as the first Cross album, "Shove it." It
was getting very late and we had to make an early start and I was trying
to get a bit of sleep, but RT kept pestering by trying to get me to have a
drink. I declined. He was shitfaced and by the time I got him home I only
got three hours sleep before I had to pick him up again. We were going to
share the drive in his Bentley but he was so hungover he slept all the
way, and only woke to say things like "Turn the music down," and because
he had only just stopped smoking I kept getting, "Do you have to smoke."
(I've since stopped) After a while this began to get very boring and I
said, "If I don't smoke or have the music on I'll fall asleep as well." He
got the message and left me alone. We were both so tired we ended up
stopping somewhere in France, checking into a hotel, eating some good
food, drinking some excellent wine, getting drunk and having to listen to
him moaning again the next day while I did all the driving
Taken from "Cars and Queenie Days" - Yesterdays Moments QFC
I think I've mentioned before that we drove the Bentley to Montreux, well
this was the time. The plan was to spend three or four days in Montreux
recording then go to Gstaad to write some more songs. That was the excuse
because we had a huge chalet there and the idea was to do a lot of skiing
and a bit of writing, which is exactly what we did. It was in Gstaad that
Roger came up with the idea of forming a band, and after a hard day on the
slopes we would sit around at night working out a plan on putting a band
together.
On the subject of Bentleys and Gstaad I feel obliged to tell you just how
much bad luck RT has with his cars.
When he bought his first Range Rover he claimed "You can park them on a
sixpence." We had to tow him out of a ditch. His Ferrari burst into flames
on his way to the south of France, and his Aston Martin also burst into
flames. He hardly ever drove the Bentley, it was my baby and I loved it
and never had any problems. Dominique decided she was going to join our
little ski trip and was coming to Gstaad, now don't get me wrong, I love
Dom, a fine lady, still is, it's just that I didn't fancy the hour drive
down the mountain and then the hour along the motorway to the airport. On
the day of her arrival RT surprised me by saying he was going to pick her
up, that'll do me, drop me off at the chair lift and have a nice drive. A
very pleasant afternoon was spent on the piste so when I get back to the
house I'm ready for some mindless computer games, and while in the middle
of shooting some aliens the phone rings and it's Dominique asking where
Roger was as he's not at the airport to pick her up.
The only thing I can say is for her to hang on because he left in plenty
of time so he should be there, and I'm back to saving the world. Hours
later the door flies open with Roger ranting and raving and saying
something about F-in-cars. What's his problem? I look out the window and
in the driveway is a VW Golf, so the obvious question is, "Where's the
Bentley?" When his lordship finally calmed down he explained that when he
got to the motorway there was a blizzard, so he had to have the windscreen
wipers on full, but the one on the drivers side came off, so he stopped
the car and was groping around in the snow looking for it, and he found it
and put it back on. So far so good, except a couple of miles further on it
came off again, and this time it was nowhere to be seen. Now try and
picture the situation. Swiss motorway, lots of snow falling, very
expensive black Bentley and a very famous pop star hanging out the window
while driving so he can wipe the snow off the screen so he can see. Not a
very good look at all. On arrival at Geneva he took the car to the Rolls
Royce dealer to get fixed, and it wasn't long after this that I said my
final goodbye to a trusty friend. Roger on the other hand said Good
F***ing Riddance. I have an equally pathetic driving story when we were in
Rio, this time it was the two of us, a convertible and one hell of a lot
of rain.
Taken from Hoover Salesmen - Yesterdays Moments QFC
Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that
it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we
go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at
a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up
talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless
to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman
said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're
Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started
going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners,
uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about
the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters
and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this
and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we
good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally
changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship
and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we
actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how
we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives
trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London
having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.
Crystal
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