Ginger Geezer: The Life of Vivian Stanshall [Paperback]

Vivian Stanshall, artist, musician, comic, broadcaster and all-round oddball, was a genuine English eccentric. Lucian Welsh and Chris Randall's Ginger Geezer: The Life of Vivian Stanshall is an attempt to unravel the tragic story of this enigmatic and idiosyncratic man. Stanshall, blessed with a forest of red hair, an excess of energy and an urge to shock, formed the Bonzo Dog Band just after art school. The band, who began life as a humorous trad jazz combo, evolved into the perfect vehicle for his many talents. Combining the best elements of cabaret, jazz, rock, performance art and musical hall comedy, the Bonzos gained critical acclaim and commercial success. The pressures of touring and the usual personal differences caused the band to implode at the end of the 1960s. Although they reformed intermittently, Stanshall never produced a consistent body of work again. Flashes of brilliance did occur: solo albums, a comic radio masterpiece Sir Henry at Rawlinson's End (later unsuccessfully filmed) and several songs co-written with Stevie Winwood all bear witness to this. Unfortunately alcohol, valium and his own mercurial nature prevented him from realising his full potential. Much of the 1970s were spent in a haze, often creating questionable drunken mayhem with fellow boozer Keith Moon of the Who--the pair once paraded through Soho dressed as Nazis.

His dulcet tones however, were much in demand. Eloquently described here by friend and admirer Stephen Fry as "a Dundee Cake of a voice, astoundingly deep, rich and fruity", Stanshall graced Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells and the Damned's Lovely Money. In later life voiceover and advertising work provided him (briefly) with a lucrative income. Vivian was never able to stay of the bottle for long and the offers slowly dried up. With friends and family alarmed by his drinking, Stanshall sought the company of street drinkers near his Muswell Hill flat. These new friends robbed him of many of his prize possessions and enjoyed drinking at his expense. In 1995, after one such session he died in a fire at his home. Randall and Welsh clearly love Stanshall but their book never quite gets to grip with their flamboyant subject. It is shoddily arranged--details are confused and there are many infuriating repetitions. Much of the writing is workmanlike at best. They seem torn between creating an oral history from the reminiscences of his many friends and writing a proper "authorial" biography. Despite this, in celebrating his unique genius they do succeed in reminding us what a sorry loss his premature departure was. --Travis Elborough --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

On Vivian Stanshall:

‘A unique and inspired comic genius.’ Stephen Fry

‘The one great comic talent British pop music has produced.’ Observer

‘I’m whatever you like, just don’t expect me to join in.’ Vivian Stanshall

'Will endure as the standard biography of one of the most singular figures in British pop.'

'This fascinating biography paints a complex portrait of a singular man.'

A hair-raising account of a man who was funnier from a safe distance.

The extraordinary story of Vivian Stanshall, lead singer of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, true British eccentric.

Charismatic and flamboyant, Vivian Stanshall was a natural frontman for The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. The eccentric group who satirised trad jazz, pop and rock, reached Number five with ‘I’m The Urban Spaceman’ in 1968. A punishing schedule of tours and television followed, including work with the future Monty Python team. The following year, broke and burned out, the Bonzos split up, leaving behind a loyal cult following.

Vivian launched into myriad solo projects in music, film and theatre, giving himself several nervous breakdowns in the process. His comic masterpiece, ‘Sir Henry at Rawlinson End’, was heard in radio, on an album, and then hit the big screen. Vivian wrote the musical ‘Stinkfoot’, was narrator on ‘Tubular Bells’ and provided lyrics for Steve Winwood. In person, he was just as multi-faceted, by turns the erudite artist and the truculent Teddy Boy, breathtakingly rude. A powerful figure, tall, red-haired and never less than extravagant in his fashion, Vivian Stanshall was a hell-raiser of legendary reputation – ably assisted through much of the 1970s by Who drummer Keith Moon. Vivian drove the many who loved him to the limit, struggling with terrible tranquilliser and alcohol dependency. He died at home in a house fire in 1995. The story of his turbulent life is utterly compelling.

Chris Welch, former Melody Maker critic and ex-editor of Metal Hammer and Rock World, has written books on Jimi Hendrix, Tina Turner, Led Zeppelin, Yes, Peter Gabriel and David Bowie. He contributes to Mojo, Record Collector,Rhythm and the Independent and plays drums in his spare time. Lucian Randall is a music writer and researcher who lives in London.