Requiem for a gunslinger

Rock ‘n’ roll fans and blues lovers everywhere were saddened by the death last week in Florida of the great Bo Diddley. A musical giant of his generation, one of the last remaining original Chess recording artists, and among the most influential guitarists of all time, Bo Diddley’s praises have been sung far and wide. His unique sound and driving rhythm were immediately recognisable and provided a touchstone for all of those who followed him.

In 1995, when Bo Diddley played at The Mean Fiddler in Dublin, my band and I were naturally pleased to be invited to open the show for him. I had grown up listening to his records and was a dedicated fan. Being at his ferocious, rocking gig in the Belfield bar in the 1980s was an incredible experience, and its impact inspired me to include several of his songs in my own repertoire as a mark of respect. Eventually his sublime love song ‘Dearest Darling’ became a mainstay and highlight of nearly all my live performances; I never tired of singing it. Well aware of his frustration at the lack of financial and artistic credit accorded him throughout his career, I was anxious to get his permission to include ‘Dearest Darling’ in our set that night, and to ask him if I could release a version of it on our next album.
When Bo Diddley invited us into his dressing-room to talk, we entered a bit cautiously, but he greeted us warmly and shook hands all around. He courteously put aside the cold supper he was eating and carefully covered it with a linen napkin. Wearing his trademark black Stetson he relaxed on the sofa beside his Gretsch “twang machine”, as we spoke of mutual acquaintances in the blues, the ups and downs of the business, life on the road. We expressed our love and admiration of his music and eventually came around to discussing ‘Dearest Darling’ – at which point he virtually exploded with excitement.
“Hell yes, you can cut it! I don’t mind as long as I get my four dollars,” he bellowed, launching into a highly informed master class about the ways in which some people in the music business can attempt to rip you off, how to avoid it, and how to keep track of the royalties due to you. It was a topic in which he was obviously well versed; he had an enormous amount of information and experience, which he seemed to take great pleasure in sharing with us. We were being treated to a private lesson, an important one which he had learned the hard way.
His infamous struggle for royalties had made him an impressive expert in all aspects of the subject. He was well-prepared to continue fighting his battle and seemed genuinely pleased as we thanked him for his advice and complimented his expertise. The Bo Diddley we met that night was warm and funny, occasionally stern and formidable, but above all honest and exceptionally generous. We took some photos as he autographed our Bo Diddley Chess Masters albums with an ironic smile. On a drum skin he drew us a cartoon of the “twang machine” with flames and lightning bolts shooting out, emblazoned with the legend “Rock ‘n Roll from Bo Diddley.”
As we left Bo Diddley to finish his supper we met his band standing around the drum kit on stage, looking perplexed. Their luggage had been lost on the flight over, they were all in need of a change of clothes, and the shops were closed. As it happened, we had a batch of Mary Stokes Band t-shirts which we gave them, and a few weeks later we were both amused and gratified to see a photograph in a music magazine of the great Bo Diddley wearing one! Well, he is gone now, but the beat lives on. What Bo Diddley, blues man and guitar legend has given us will never die...