In 2011, The Primevals frontman Michael Rooney told Prog about his passion for the work of Captain Beefheart – and how, despite the old adage, he had no regrets about meeting his hero on several occasions.
“I first heard Beefheart through John Peel’s radio show, then I bought Strictly Personal and Trout Mask Replica, all the way up to Ice Cream For Crow. The first time saw him was 1972. I was 16 and I hitched down to London with some mates to the Royal Albert Hall.
Although I didn’t recognise anyone I heard that some Beatles and Stones were in the audience. When the show started it was quite amazing. A ballerina came on, then a belly dancer, then a comedy sketch. It wasn’t yer usual rock show.
Afterwards we found Beefheart’s limousine where he was signing programmes. He was wearing a red satin Nudie suit and he’d closed his eyes to do these existential-style doodles. Then he got ink on his suit and was pissed off.
They played Glasgow Kelvin Hall a few days later. We managed to get backstage – my friend Angus had bought some red roses for Beefheart’s wife Jan, a cigar with a nail in it ‘statement’ for Beefheart, and a quarter bottle of brandy.
Beefheart was in a cloak, standing next to his drummer, a guy with a green moustache and a monocle with a pair of pants over his head. They were saying, “Did you see the Loch Ness Monster at the side of the stage?” He was such a joker.
In ’73 they came back and played Glasgow, Edinburgh, The Rainbow and Knebworth, where we ended up back at his hotel and he held court, blowing harmonica and being dead funny. Some catering ladies were moving about, giving him tea.
One lady – Beefheart had been chatting to her – took away this huge tray of tea things. As she walked out to the kitchen there was this dramatic din and smashing of crockery. Beefheart says, ‘I’d sure like to play with her!’
After that we went to shows, but had no contact. Then I formed my own rock/blues band, The Primevals, and we’d do Beefheart nights. In 1988 we were on [tribute album] Fast’N’Bulbous with That Petrol Emotion and XTC. It was great to be asked.
I still go back to his music; it’s wonderful and brilliant and he opened a lot of doors for me. He was always talking about Ornette Coleman or John Coltrane, and I immediately bought in to that.
Then I shifted gear, so I took all my records into Silverdale in Glasgow and swapped them for jazz, Charlie Patton and Son House. Back then I’d put my name on albums – say, ‘Mick Rooney, album number 126, 17th February, 1971.’
Recently I befriended a guy with a secondhand stall in Glasgow – turns out he and his mates had bought my old records. He went, ‘You’re that Mick Rooney, who had all the far-out albums!’ Now I’m starting to buy them all back...”