"We went ahead and did it, and it exploded in everybody's faces. It was embarrassing": How UFO fell apart then found themselves again

Phil Mogg onstage in 2004
(Image credit: Bill Tompkins/Getty Images)

In 2004 it was all change for UFO. Troublesome guitarist Michael Schenker was gone, Vinnie Moore was in, and another new face, Jason Bonham, sat behind the kit. Coping with the chaos was frontman Phil Mogg, who sat down with Classic Rock and attempted to make sense of it all. 


It would be tempting to state that nothing ever changes in UFO’s world. In arranging this interview, Phil Mogg and I play phone tag for a few days. In one of the messages that he leaves, the singer apologises for missing my own call, attributing his absence to being “out delivering Christmas presents”; the date is January 31. 

UFO have just begun a campaign to promote their new album, You Are Here, but this time there’s a big difference: guitarist Michael Schenker is no longer with them. Vinnie Moore, an American, has been brought in to replace the erratic German, whose drunken antics brought a sudden end to a 2000 tour on the back of their Covenant album. The successor to ‘Mad Mickey’ has been making his own records since 1986’s Mind’s Eye, a critically acclaimed debut that sold 100,000 copies. He also played briefly with US power metallers Vicious Rumors. 

Now occupying UFO’s drum stool is none other than skilled sticksman Jason Bonham (son of Led Zeppelin drummer John), who has played with the likes of Paul Rodgers, Slash, Richie Sambora and Jeff Beck. Let us not forget that Jason has also deputised for his dad on occasions, taking his place alongside vocalist Robert Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page and bassist/ keyboard player John Paul Jones when those three musicians have regrouped under the Led Zeppelin name. 

UFO have attempted to work without the talismanic Schenker many times in the past, and the results have been wildly erratic. Mick Bolton, Bernie Marsden (later of Whitesnake) and Larry Wallis of the Pink Fairies all warmed the hot seat before a teenaged Schenker arrived in June 1973. 

Later, along with Paul ‘Tonka’ Chapman, UFO made albums good (The Wild, The Willing And The Innocent), bad (Mechanix) and patchy (No Place To Run), and hooked up with Atomik Tommy McClendon for Misdemeanour in ’85. Later still, Mogg and bassist Pete Way employed ex-Stampede/Phil Lynott’s Grand Slam man Lawrence Archer for the High Stakes And Dangerous Men album. Again, the results were inconsistent.

Schenker’s return, first for Walk On Water in 1995, then for Covenant and Sharks in 2002, proved to be temporary both times. Things came crashing down about everybody’s heads in Japan in ’95, when Schenker attacked keyboard player/guitarist Paul Raymond with a metal chair backstage, and stormed off stage 40 minutes into the second of three sold-out shows. 

However, Schenker saved his most dramatic act for what at the time had seemed certain to be the group’s final concert, at Manchester Apollo on November 24, 2000. During the show, a paralytic Schenker handed his guitar to Mogg to play a key solo, later pointing to the singer and telling the audience: “This guy sucks”, then admitting: “I suck, too”. 

UFO’s new You Are Here is an album of irresistible, iron-gripped melody, and is certainly good enough to re-awaken the sleeping giant. However, only time will tell whether or not UFO’s audience will accept the band’s latest line-up. 

Clearly, some will find it hard to forgive them for the Manchester debacle. Among an avalanche of emails that flooded into Classic Rock immediately after the show, Ray Mayers of Liverpool wrote: “Schenker was fat, bloated, pathetic and pissed-up. He did not play one song correctly all night. And I paid £45 to witness it.” 

“Did he really pay £45?” Mogg enquires quizzically.

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Maybe that included his travel costs. But what would you say to those who saw UFO hitting an all-time low that night? 

It was an unfortunate set of events, and I was as disappointed as the audience. Doing a gig is a fairly easy thing – or at least it should be; get yourself there and it should be plain sailing. I’ve since made jokes about that night, but joking’s all you can do when something goes that badly wrong. But underneath I was as upset as everybody else. 

Was that tour always a train wreck waiting to happen? 

There was no indication that it might be. Rehearsals had gone okay, and Manchester was about four weeks into the tour; we’d been across Europe and everything was fine. Then suddenly it all went into meltdown. It was the night before, at a gig in Newcastle, when everything started to go pear-shaped.

Michael had received a black eye in a backstage altercation with Spike, the singer of The Quireboys, and by all accounts continued to drink throughout the following day. 

Yeah. If we’d had a modicum of common sense we’d have said, that’s it, let’s cancel Manchester. But unfortunately we went ahead and did it, and it exploded in everybody’s faces. And when it did so, it was embarrassing, as shocking as standing on stage at the Sun Plaza in Tokyo when Michael walked off there. 

At least in Manchester the audience was able to shout: ‘Fuck off you wankers’, or whatever. That abuse was reassuring, because it made you aware that it was actually happening; in Tokyo there was just a stunned silence, nobody said a word. But Manchester was another tragedy. And I’m very sorry that your reader wasted his forty-five quid. We were more disappointed than he was, because it was the third tour that had ended prematurely. It looked like it would be the last nail in the coffin. In a way it was like a marriage: if it’s not working you can only string it out for so long.

Phil Mogg studio portrait

(Image credit: Gems/Redferns)

At the end of the Manchester gig, Schenker reportedly went back out on stage, thanked the audience for their boos and said goodbye. What was said in the dressing room? 

I have no idea where Michael went. I cleared off pretty quickly, too. To me, that was it. I believe Michael did go on to the next gig, but he was in no condition to continue. I certainly wasn’t going to suffer another evening like that. We all knew that would probably be it [for UFO]. 

So did you all sit down and have discussions along those lines? 

No, we just did what we usually do – went our separate ways. 

The rest of the tour was cancelled abruptly, officially because you had developed a timely bout of laryngitis. 

[Grinning knowingly] Yeah, my voice was getting a bit croaky. There wasn’t really any point in trying to continue. We’d been through dramas before. It was a bit like a marriage that had gone wrong – in the end you cut your losses. 

A friend who was at the Manchester show still feels strongly that UFO have no right to exist after such shameful scenes. 

That’s a bit extreme. It was a bit like the wedding that descends into a punch-up; the following morning, when everybody sobers up, they’re totally embarrassed. It’s a lot worse than that in a way, because people had paid good money to be entertained. But I’d be willing to bet our friend from Liverpool has gone to the pub, had too much to drink and got himself into a little bit of a fluff with someone. The next day he goes: ‘Oh my God’, and he’s very, very sorry about it. Whether or not it’s their fault, most people have found themselves stuck in that type of situation. All I’d say in UFO’s defence is try working out how many gigs we’ve played down the years – there would be thousands. 

Of all of those, only a handful have gone wrong. Since Michael came back eight years ago there have been gigs in Manchester, Tokyo… there was another in Odessa, in America. Over the whole span of the band you could probably chuck in a couple more. In twenty years of touring, I don’t think five crap shows is too bad; I certainly wouldn’t chuck everything in because of that. To stop being a band because of what happened in Manchester would be foolish. 

In 2002 UFO did actually record another album with Schenker, but there was no touring for Sharks

It had been a year, and we hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would turn around. Recording the album was fine. But then we realised things wouldn’t change. We knew that if we’d gone out on the road the same thing would’ve happened. In a way it was like going back for more punishment.

Phil Mogg and Michael Schenker onstage in 1978

Phil Mogg and Michael Schenker onstage in 1978 (Image credit: Simon Robinson / Easy On The Eye / Alamy Stock Photo)

In recent times, bands like Metallica have employed counsellors to help them iron out their differences. Did UFO consider such an option? 

No. With us it’s a whole different ballgame. [Launches into convincing impersonation of Schenker]: ‘I haf had fifteen psychiatrists, zey have all tried telling me [what to do]. I know vat zey are sayink’. That’s an actual quote. I’m guessing, but if Metallica have had problems it’s probably the same sort of things that they’ve needed help with. You’d all need to be of the same mind, so it wouldn’t have worked with us. 

Schenker says that you ended up ringing him, effectively to plead for the return of the ownership of the UFO name for the band. 

Well, I’m not the pleading sort. 

The way Michael explained to us last November, it was that you contacted him, and that you were “desperate to control UFO”. He told us: “Phil needs to work, so I had compassion. I told him to do what he likes [with the name] and be happy”. 

It was actually done by email, through his manager. In what I sent I said that, yes, myself and Pete did need to work again with UFO. I reminded him that out of four tours we had done, three were failed ones, and that if he wasn’t going to be involved with it [the name] then could we please have it back so we could get on and do something. 

To quote another of our post-Apollo reader emails, someone called Paul H wrote in saying: “UFO need to bring back ‘Tonka’ Chapman”. Was that an option? 

No. We did our thing with Paul after Michael left [after the double-live album Strangers In The Night]. We did albums like No Place To Run with him, and that ran its course in the mid-80s. By that point we were completely worn out. We’d done our bit for rock’s entire drinking population, and we had literally run ourselves into the ground. Pete went off and formed Waysted, and we [UFO] ended up really scrapping around for things. That was it. There was no thought on my part that we would like to pick that up again. And Paul lives in Florida now anyway. 

The sensible money was perhaps on Jeff Kollman, who besides playing on Chocolate Box, an album by Mogg/Way, did a sterling job of playing such UFO standards as Mother Mary, Too Hot To Handle, Lights Out and Shoot Shoot on a tour with your side project, $ign Of Four. 

It was possible that Jeff could have joined us, but he runs a studio and has a band of his own [called Cosmosquad]. Also, I wasn’t sure if his style would fit UFO. He never said: ‘Here, let me be in this band because I could really knock it out’. If he had done, maybe something would have come of it.

Ex-David Bowie/Jeff Beck/Journey drummer Aynsley Dunbar played on both Covenant and Sharks. Was longtime UFO drummer Andy Parker approached to be on You Are Here

Yeah. Way back, in June last year when we finally got Michael to relinquish the name. Andy had refused to come back after the Walk On Water album – his exact words were [launching into another frighteningly good impression]: ‘I can’t play in a band with somebody that can’t be trusted’. So I rang Andy up and said: ‘He’s gone’. But he’s now working with a brother and has a business. We owed it to Andy to ask him anyway. 

Why were you replacing Aynsley? 

We wanted someone permanent. Aynsley played on two albums, but we used someone else when we went on the road. 

How did you go about choosing a replacement drummer and guitarist? What were the qualities that you were you looking for? 

The guitarist needed an instant sound, a melodic touch and to be able to let rip where necessary. They also had to be able to write. We started looking in this country and listened to loads and loads of CDs, but were getting nowhere. Steve Morse’s [Deep Purple] manager looks after Vinnie [Moore], and he sent us a tape of some of Vinnie’s solo stuff. And the sound was there straight away. I didn’t like all of his material, but some of it was good so we had a chat. He seemed like a real nice guy and doesn’t come to the band with any baggage. 

Was Vinnie a big UFO fan? 

Not really. He knew some of our songs, including High Flyer [from 1975’s Force It album], which was an odd one. And as a guitarist he knew all about Michael anyway. 

How did Jason Bonham come into the equation? 

I was speaking to Spike [of The Quireboys, whom Mogg once managed], and he told me to come and see them at the Underworld [in London]. Jason was playing in the band at the time. Spike had said he was a great drummer, and he was so right. He was rock solid, loud… everything you want from a UFO drummer. He was also quite charming. He doesn’t drink, either! Nor does Vinnie. You see, there’s a strategy in this. 

Can you describe all four of your bandmates in ten words or fewer? 

[Laughing and slightly mischievously] Paul Raymond [guitar/keyboards] is the gent. Someone who might wear his overcoat on his shoulder. Meticulous and clean. A hell of a blues player. Pete Way – you couldn’t do it in ten words. The only thing that comes to mind is [another remarkably good impersonation]: ‘Er, you haven’t got two quid you could lend me, have you? I’ll give it back to you later.’ No, that’s cruel. Pete is a soft soul. 

Pete used to be the go-between with Schenker, didn’t he – the Henry Kissinger of UFO? 

Pete always wants things to be nice. He hates unpleasantness. But he was never a particularly good diplomat. Jason Bonham? A jack-in-the-box. Larger than life. A storehouse of energy. Vinnie is totally into porn and music, and is a marvellous impersonator; he does a great Beavis and Butt-head; you should hear his John Wayne. If Vinnie has two beers he’s on his back. But nothing untoward will happen. 

The new album You Are Here is a very pleasant surprise indeed. How easy or difficult was it to make?

Fairly easy. Once we had Vinnie and Jason the only worrying bit was whether we could come up with something good. We started rehearsing and there were no attitudes from anyone. Everyone just got on with it and it became a bit of laugh – which it hadn’t been for a while. 

At least a couple of tracks on this album are previously recorded Vinnie Moore instrumentals, with new lyrics added. 

When we first got together we worked on Baby Blue and another that might have become Cold Black Coffee. We just wanted to see whether they would work. 

You seem to have a fascination with train lyrics. 

[Smiling] Maybe, but there’s no trains on this new album.

Actually, there’s a railway reference in the opening song, Daylight Goes To Town

[Sheepishly] Oh yeah, ‘I was born on a rollin’ train’. I love trains. And they keep popping up, don’t they? In fact Pete Way’s got a Hornby train set, a double-O gauge. He often takes it on tour with him and sets it up in his bedroom. Lots of fun has been had with that.

With its reference to giving up the booze and nightlife, was ‘Jelloman’ written about anyone in particular? 

Not really. It’s slightly political. Most people who voted for the present government don’t seem to remember the last Labour one. That was a disaster, and so is this. We’re being dictated to by people who live in another world. To open a club now you’ve got to get a licence from that guy Feargal Sharkey [ex-Undertones]. He’s got no power to do anything, it’s a complete waste of time. 

Getting back to those reader emails, several of them claimed that UFO were now only in it for the money. 

If that’s true it’s a very strange way to earn money. I’d like one of them to go out there and be in UFO for a while. We’d soon see if they survived. 

Can you give us an indication of how Sharks and Covenant actually sold? 

I really don’t know. And I wish I did. I think they only send you a royalty statement when you’re making money. 

But let me get back to that previous question. Unfortunately, the way that touring’s usually set up, it’s the initial batch of dates that should cover its costs. If you fail to complete the tour, everything’s lost. Look at the UFO tours that went wrong – it always seemed to happen at turnaround point, just as we were about to make some money. 

There’s a tendency to gloss over those two records, almost like they don’t exist. Especially when compared to the rest of the band’s catalogue. 

Some of the songs were real good, and we’ll still be doing one from each on our next tour. Funnily enough, one’s about a train. There were some good things, but the way we put those records together was wrong. Working with Mike [Varney, producer] was great, but the time we had was limited and often we’d walk in there with next to no material. They were very pressurised albums, and that made them suffer slightly. The songs sounded better live, in fact. 

Not that many British fans actually got to see the band and find out. 

[Smiling and sarcastic] Oooo-eeee-oooo. Well, that’s one to Classic Rock, then. 

Speaking of which, by the time this issue goes to press UFO will have begun a European tour in France on March 2. Will you make any predictions about the band’s partying levels?

Actually, this will be the Earl Grey tour. With optional digestive biscuits. We’ll all be in bed by 11.30pm. The partying and days of excess are gone. I’ve done more than my fair share for that cause, I’m just not in training any more. The band couldn’t function if we still did all that stuff.

So there will be a conscious effort to ensure people don’t leave disappointed this time? 

Absolutely. And that includes me. I deserve it, too. The band will be hot, tight and rockin’. 

We’ve heard all of this before, of course. 

Really? When? 

Before the 1991 UK tour for High Stakes And Dangerous Men, Pete Way said: “If I’ve had more than a couple of beers I go to myself, ‘You shouldn’t have had those’."

Pete is a bloody liar. But I do take your point. I guess the proof of the pudding will be in the eating. Usually if there’s gonna be tomfoolery it starts in rehearsals. It’s just been coffee so far; I’m even the band’s last smoker left. 

[Mogg’s eyes cloud over for a minute] Yeah, you’re right, though. I could be saying this now and eventually it could all turn out nasty. But I really don’t think so. I don’t want to pop my clogs just yet. 

So far, UK dates on this new tour are conspicuous by their absence. 

They would be, wouldn’t they? We’ll be avoiding Manchester – unless we do a freebie.

In the Apollo aftermath there were rumours of a free show for ticket holders. Is that an option? 

I don’t know just yet. This is the very start of the touring thing; we’ll be going through till the end of the year. We’ll be doing America, for the first time in four years, there are festivals in Europe in June, at which time we’re hoping to line up a few things in Britain. But I’m afraid that can’t tell you anything official at the moment. 

When Classic Rock last spoke to Pete Way he said he that although Schenker hadn’t played on the new album he wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him returning to the band because he’s “family”. Do you feel the same? 

[Aghast] Definitely not. How many Special Brews had he drunk when he said that? 

Pete was very insistent that he meant it. 

I wouldn’t mind doing something with Michael again as long as it wasn’t UFO. How many times do you have to try? It’s like a failed romance. It would be foolish to keep going back. The guy’s a great guitarist, and given the right circumstances he can still knock it out. 

Tell the truth: do you feel any sense of rivalry with Michael Schenker? 

Not any more. But just after Strangers In The Night I did. I was very disappointed that he left, and particularly the manner in which he did it. We deserved an explanation. Whether or not we’d have understood it is another matter, but we certainly deserved one. 

In November, when we retold the story of the Obsession album, you said that Michael walked out of the studio during the mixing of Strangers… and nobody saw him again. 

That’s right. He said: “Poor, poor Rock Bottom,” and left the room. My attitude was not to run after him or pamper him. I was bitter for a while, but then it became too much trouble. 

Do you ever wish you’d co-founded a more serious – actually, let’s go the whole hog and say boring – band than UFO? 

Not really. We’ve definitely had some great moments and some dire ones. I do wish we’d kept it together a bit more. The trouble was we only ever saw into the next week ahead. The band members should sometimes have had a bit more respect for each other. 

Finally, a strange question. Classic Rock’s Mick Wall has heard a bizarre rumour that your real name isn’t Phil Mogg, but is actually Phil Frog. Would you care to comment? 

[Laughing hysterically] No, it’s not fucking Phil Frog. Fucking Mick Wall! Actually, that sounds more like [photographer] Ross Halfin’s sense of humour. Are you sure that didn’t come from him? 

This feature originally appeared in Classic Rock 65, published in April 2004.

Dave Ling

Dave Ling was a co-founder of Classic Rock magazine. His words have appeared in a variety of music publications, including RAW, Kerrang!, Metal Hammer, Prog, Rock Candy, Fireworks and Sounds. Dave’s life was shaped in 1974 through the purchase of a copy of Sweet’s album ‘Sweet Fanny Adams’, along with early gig experiences from Status Quo, Rush, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Yes and Queen. As a lifelong season ticket holder of Crystal Palace FC, he is completely incapable of uttering the word ‘Br***ton’.