In 2024 Fairport Convention mainstay and former Jethro Tull member Dave Pegg told Prog about his life and times as bassist with those bands and his collaborations with Nick Drake, John Martyn and others.
Peggy to his friends, Dave Pegg is one of prog’s most affable and gregarious individuals: a virtuosic, Brummie-born bassist who professes to have taught Fairport Convention and Jethro Tull how to drink. He joined the Fairports in 1969, one week after seeing them play on his 22nd birthday. Revered LP Liege & Lief was newly-baked then, but bassist Ashley Hutchings was leaving to form Steeleye Span, while storied frontwoman Sandy Denny was leaving to form Fotheringay.
When Pegg teamed with Richard Thompson, Simon Nicol, Dave Swarbrick and Dave Mattacks, his life changed forever. Folk-rock – or ‘fock,’ as he likes to call it – would become his long-term vocation, via remarkable Fairport LPs Full House, Angel Delight and Rising For The Moon. His session outings include bass on Nick Drake’s Bryter Layter and various Thompson and Danny solo albums; while, from 1980 to 1995, he was a fully-fledged member of Jethro Tull.
In his memoir, Off The Pegg: Bespoke Memories Of A Bass Player, he details encounters variously touching or hilarious with everyone from Robert Plant to Ozzy Osbourne – and his account of accidentally soiling himself onstage in white jeans is not for the faint-hearted.
What was the first music you heard that really charmed you?
The Shadows. Hank Marvin was the guy who made me pick up a guitar before I switched to bass. Their whole first album, The Shadows, is great, especially stuff like Nivram, which is ‘Marvin’ spelled backwards, of course. When I was at school in Birmingham aged 15, all I used to do in art class was draw pictures of Stratocasters.
What prompted your switch from guitar to bass?
Auditioning for a group called The Uglys in Birmingham. I’d seen a brilliant guitarist called Roger Hill in the queue, so I knew I didn’t have a chance. On the way out, singer Steve Gibbons said, “Dave, your image really fits The Uglys! The bass player’s leaving too and he’s selling his Fender Precision – are you in?” I bought the bass for £70.
You were offered jobs in Colosseum and Heads Hands & Feet just after joining Fairport. Did you make the right decision?
Probably, yes, given that Fairport is still going. In Brum, the chances of getting anywhere were pretty slim unless you joined a London band. I also auditioned for The Aynsley Dunbar Retaliation and Spooky Tooth. I kept failing auditions, then I formed Beast [later renamed Bedlam] with Cozy Powell and Clem Clempson. But Clem got asked to join Colosseum, and Cozy got invited to join the Jeff Beck Group.
You joined Fairport soon after the May 1969 tragedy which killed drummer Martin Lambie and Richard Thompson’s girlfriend Jeannie Franklyn. Was there a sense of what they’d been through?
There definitely was. But they started trying to get over the crash while making Liege & Lief that summer. Dave Mattacks had joined and Liege pulled them together through an awful, deeply traumatic time. I know Ashley Hutchings was deeply affected; I’ve read things he said about it.
Right away, you and your family moved in with the rest of the band and their families at the Angel pub in Little Hadham, Hertfordshire. Your first experience of communal living?
Yes! In my book I describe The Angel as a hovel – although Simon Nicol says that’s too generous! But we were distracted. There was so much to do in such little time to get the band up and running again. I mean, to lose Sandy Denny... nobody sang like Sandy. Having just made Liege & Lief, it was an incredibly brave thing for Fairport to carry on. They’d only done one gig with that line-up, which was the one I was at.
Was it disappointing to be joining the band just as Sandy was leaving it?
For me, it was. But then I taught Fairport how to drink! They weren’t party animals until I joined. That first year when we toured America with the Full House line-up, we became a boy band in many respects!
How did Fairport change musically without Sandy?
Well, initially there wasn’t a singer as such, which was strange. We were rehearsing at The Angel, three weeks until our first gig. Straws were drawn and Richard and Swarb had to do most of the vocals. They’d never sung much before, and Simon had never sung anything in Fairport, I don’t think. It was, “Let’s all chip in and do the best we can.”
What was best and worst about living communally at The Angel?
There were 13 of us, and there was one toilet and very little hot water. My daughter, Stephanie, remembers it vividly – she learned a lot of swear words there! She’s the little girl on the back cover of Full House. I remember she was fascinated by the harmonium Richard had, that he’d painted in bright colours. She loved Richard and later in life she was his PR for a while.
During your first US Tour in spring 1970, you thought the Eagles were trying to poach Richard Thompson, right?
Yeah. They’d turn up at The Troubadour in LA every night to see us, all of them, and stare at Richard’s playing. You’d have to do two sets a night, sometimes three at weekends. Linda Ronstadt would come too, and she’d get up and sing Silver Threads And Golden Needles with us. Fairport had ears for country music too.
Richard didn’t join The Eagles, of course, but he did opt to leave Fairport prior to 1971’s Angel Delight. He was starting to write amazing songs in great number and he wanted to do his own thing, which we completely understood. It was Dave Swarbrick who kept us together – he said, “We’ve got enough talent between us to come up with something more.”
Was Swarb pioneering in his use of echo and wah-wah on his fiddle? Had anyone else done that at that point?
There was David LaFlamme, who sang and played violin in a San Francisco band called It’s A Beautiful Day. But Swarb got an Echoplex tape-delay unit, and became very adept with it. During Liege & Lief his violin was stuffed with cotton wool and amplified with something that came out of an old telephone. He became a giant when he was plugged in – even if he was diminutive in stature!
Sandy rejoined as a result of Fairport gigs in Australia, after she’d married Trevor Lucas. Was her reutnr magical?
Yeah! In January 1973, Trevor was visiting his folks in Melbourne, where he came from. Sandy was booked to play the Great Ngaruawahia Music Festival in New Zealand, as were Black Sabbath. Trevor persuaded the promoter to book us too and we flew over, just for that one gig. Sandy was travelling around with us and started to get up for some songs. It was incredible. You could see how much it meant to people. When we did Sydney Opera House, producer John Wood came out with an eight-track and recorded what became Fairport Live Convention, and that led to Sandy rejoining us for Rising For The Moon.
Ian Anderson is meticulous about paying royalties. That’s something I’ve learned from him
And Island got behind Rising?
As much as they could. We toured North America and had our faces on a billboard on Sunset Strip. But Rising For The Moon wasn’t commercially viable, really. We never got the airplay.
You’re fond of the title track, part of which runs: ‘There are many ears to please, many people’s love to try...’
It’s one of the best songs ever about being in a band. From Sandy’s point of view it captures the thrill of travelling, being loved by everybody, and the little romances that she had along the way in various places! There are a couple of filler tracks on the album, but not that one. We’d write on the spot back at the hotel, Swarb and Sandy with alternative cigarettes and me with a bottle of vodka.
Alas, that line-up didn’t last long. DId you understand when Island pulled the plug after 1976’s Gottle O’Geer?
Yes, of course – because the music biz was run by accountants and suits by that point.
You still put out three Fairport albums in the years after that. Then, before Fairport temporarily disbanded in 1979, you ended up almost killing Swarb onstage.
A terrible night in Shrewsbury! I thought he was dead.
You still seem uneasy at the thought of it.
Well, it was a worry – I loved that bass I hit him with! No, Bruce Rowland had joined on drums, and he was good mates with Ronnie Lane. Ronnie had come up for a big pub session in the afternoon and Swarb couldn’t really handle booze. Other things, yes, but not booze. Onstage we did Dirty Linen, a very difficult instrumental from Full House. I was over-refreshed, but desperate not to let the side down. But Swarb couldn’t stand up, frankly. He kept leaning on me and poking me in the eye with his violin bow. So I took off my bass, hit him over the head with it and he fell to the floor. It actually broke my bass’s headstock.
Then what?
I ran away and got a taxi back to Cropredy, where I was staying at the time. My ex-wife Christine said, “What are you doing here?” I said, “Have you got £80 for the cab driver?”
And the aftermath?
We had a gig in Nottingham the next day. I didn’t know if Swarb was still alive – and if he was, whether he’d ever talk to me again. Bruce Rowland called and said, “Don’t worry, he deserved it!” Swarb got up about 5pm, had his alternative cigarette and everything was fine.
What prompted Fairport’s first disbandment in 1979?
We were paid by Phonogram/Vertigo not to make any more albums! We’d signed a deal for six and only delivered two. They said, “That’s OK, that’s enough.” We said, “No, hang on, we’ll deliver the remaining four next month, we want the money.” Very wisely, Ken Maliphant, the MD of Phonogram, said, “Would you accept £7,000 each?” He thought he was doing us a disservice, but we all gave him a big hug.
You then joined Jethro Tull. Ian Anderson later paid affectionate tribute to you in the 1987 Crest Of A Knave tour programme, mentioning “record company wives aghast and running for the door,” having encountered you at a meet and greet.
What can I say? I was very sociable and liked the odd libation! But Tull were also a very strict and formalised and army-like band in their operation, as they needed to be. They were a much bigger operation than Fairport.
What’s your take on Ian Anderson?
He’s incredible. When he was a kid leaving school, he wanted to be a detective. He absorbs so much. Then look at his songs; early Tull things like Heavy Horses – that’s as good as any folk song ever written. Ian still works his balls off and the band and the songs are still great.
There’s obviously a lot of respect there.
I told everybody, “I’m not having a drink,” but onstage I was a nervous wreck. Ian came over and said, “For Christ’s sake, have a drink!’”
God, yeah. We lost [drummer] Gerry Conway recently. Ian paid such great respect to Gerry when he wrote the sleeve notes for the Broadsword And The Beast box set, which made me really happy. I got Ian to send a copy to Gerry before he died. Ian is also incredibly meticulous about paying royalties. That’s something I’ve learned from him, the importance of that.
Your first album with Tull, A, was a real departure for the band after the line-up was reduced to yourself, Ian and Martin Barre. How did its electronic direction sit with you?
It was certainly different. A was initially planned as an Ian solo album. He got in Eddie Jobson after UK had supported Tull on the Stormwatch tour. I played fretless bass on A, which wasn’t my forte. I was paranoid about my intonation.
While in Tull you started your own label. Did you find it fulfilling?
Very! And thanks to Ian and Martin’s generosity looking after me financially – which they didn’t have to do – I was also able to set up our own Woodworm Studios.
In your memoir you mention being used to playing gigs in a “refreshed state.” Has booze never compromised your performance?
I used to drink a lot with Tull. Maybe a bottle of wine and half a dozen beers before a show, and more during the show. But you ran around with Tull and you sweated so much of it out. It was almost like a dance routine, especially for Ian. If you didn’t get out of his way you’d be knocked over. One night I told everybody, “I’m not having a drink tonight,” but then, onstage, I was a nervous wreck. During the third number Ian came over and said, “For Christ’s sake, have a drink, Peggy!”
You also wrote that you’ve never been sacked, but you “sailed pretty close to the wind” with Fairport.
I had a bad period with drink and drugs when I was getting divorced. I became a pretty obnoxious person to be on the road with, and I was asked not to continue a US Tour. It was sad, but it made me pull myself together, which took about six months. I realised how important playing music in a band was to me.
Of your playing on Nick Drake’s Bryter Layter, you’ve said that, because he was so withdrawn, you had no way of knowing if he liked your work.
You never knew what Nick thought, but it was all done so quickly. He was such an incredible guitar player. His right-hand technique was so intricate rhythmically, and he’s singing across it and against it. Bryter Layter is my favourite thing I’ve ever been involved in. The tracks that Dave Mattacks and myself played on. Nick came up to The Angel for a couple of days and we sat around playing the songs, analysing the chords. It all went down very, very quickly.
You also worked with John Martyn. There’s been a lot written about Martyn’s dark side recently…
Yes. Not that I’d want to talk about it. He was a Jekyll and Hyde character, especially when under the influence of various substances. And it got worse as he got older. John always frightened me. You never knew where you were with him.
Do you ever dream about Sandy Denny or Nick Drake?
Sometimes I wake up singing one of their tunes. They never go away. Sandy’s music will last forever. And it’s great that everybody knows who Nick Drake was now. Kids are always coming up to me and asking what he was like. I’m special by association!
Would it be fair to say that these days, the Cropredy Convention is the focus of your whole year?
It is. Fairport and Cropredy are a way of life, really.
Has anyone ever approached you about doing Fairport: The Movie?
No, but we’ve got something better coming: our own Fairport Convention board game! We’re just having the player pieces manufactured: a guitar, a bass, a fiddle, a microphone and a drum. At the moment it’s called Cropredy Capers. Think Monopoly crossed with Snakes & Ladders.
That time back in the day, though, when a lorry driver ploughed into the side of Dave Swarbrick’s bedroom – what a cinematic moment!
If we get an encore we do Meet On The Ledge, and if we don’t get an encore we do Meet On The Ledge
The only thing left unscathed in Swarb’s room was his four-poster bed. It had bricks crushed up against it, then the lorry. He’d just bought some antique furniture, because he’d been offered a session playing violin for Paul Simon in New York for £2,000, which was a lot then. He spent the money in advance, then came the lorry crash, then the next day Paul Simon’s people called to cancel the session. Richard had already left the band, but he’d been living in the room above Swarb, which was totally demolished. Richard’s hi-fi was hanging out of the wall.
Many of your former bandmates are no longer with us. What does the timeless Fairport song Meet On The Ledge now mean to you?
It’s a song of remembrance; or it’s become one, anyway. If we get an encore we do Meet On The Ledge, and if we don’t get an encore we do Meet On The Ledge! you’ve lost someone, as we all have, being in the field at Cropredy singing that song and sharing that sentiment is very special. I’m sure when Richard wrote it he never imagined it would become this anthem.
Is it sometimes hard to get through it?
It’s hard when you have people onstage with you that you know won’t be there next year. Our dear friend Maartin Allcock, for example – he knew that 2018 would be his last Cropredy, yet there we all were, playing that song together. He died a few months later. That was hard.
What’s next for you?
I’m hoping Fairport can make a proper vinyl album. We’ve got a great songwriter in the band, Chris Leslie, plus people like Ralph McTell will write for us, too. People ask us to do vinyl, so the demand is there. We could call it Finally Vinyly! Did you know you can get a vinyl LP made from your ashes these days?
No – but I hope yours isn’t released any time soon…
Me too!
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