Born in into a musical family from Detroit in 1950, this year Suzi Quatro celebrates an astounding 62 years in rock’n’roll with a 10-date spring UK tour and a new album, Freedom. Her father, Art, was a jazz musician. By 13 she was lead chair in her school orchestra, specialising in piano and percussion. After seeing The Beatles on TV, elder sister Patti corralled Suzi and some friends into forming all-girl group The Pleasure Seekers in 1964.
“Everybody got real excited and picked an instrument, except for me,” Suzi recalls. “I said: ‘What am I playing?’ Patti said: ‘The bass.’ Thank god she did that, because it was my perfect instrument.”
Less than a decade later, as a petite figure wearing her dad’s imposing Fender Precision bass, a feather cut and a leather catsuit, Suzi would take the pop scene by storm, mingling with rock star buddies from home and film and TV icons too, without knowing how influential she’d be to future artists-with-attitude. From shooting Alice Cooper, to smoking banana skins cos of Donovan, to being in a hit TV series, here are memories from just some of Suzi Q’s extensive acquaintances.
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Alice Cooper
I was friends with so many acts from Michigan – MC5, Amboy Dukes, Grand Funk Railroad – and I’ve known Alice for years and we always had a connection. I supported him on the Welcome To My Nightmare tour in 1975, eighty-five dates. We called him Vinnie The Boss. We were on a turboprop and making at least one flight a day, if not two. Back then I was a terrible flyer, so it was white-knuckle time. But it was wonderful because there was a lot of Detroit people around, musicians whom I’d known forever. A lot of blackjack was played.
On a big tour like this you get a little crazy. In one hotel we decided to have a rubber dart-gun fight before a show. We hid behind mattresses in the hallway, and it got serious, dark… Who was going to win? Alice hid in a room. Then I saw his rather large nose poking out from behind a television set, and I went [mimes shooting a pistol] ‘boink!’ I didn’t break it, but it was pretty close. His first words were: “Ouch!” and then “Good shot!” That night, on stage he wore my tour T-shirt out of respect.
Iggy Pop
I went to England in’71, but came back to tour America in ’74 and played a sold-out Whisky A Go Go. Iggy was in the crowd and said: “Hey, I want to get up on stage with you.” I said: “Okay, let him up, we’ll do a song together.” Then he started to go nutty. I finally had to ask the road crew to get him off the stage, he was messing it all up [laughs]. Iggy’s a friend, he’s never going to be normal.
Mary Weiss, The Shangri-Las
I first saw The Shangri-Las on the Detroit TV show called 1270. I was in their audience as a regular dancer. One week I’m dancing, and there’s the stage, and there’s Mary Weiss, the lead singer, right in front of me. I thought she was super-sexy. She had a leather waistcoat and tight pants on. Like Elvis’s leather outfit, it made a big impression on me.
Years later I spoke with her for a Radio 2 series, an episode that covered teenage angst songs, which The Shangri-Las were very good at. We developed a friendship and stayed in touch by email. I liked her a lot and thought she was really cool.
Donovan
I was a big, big Donovan fan. Sunshine Superman was the first song I heard on the radio the first time I drove a car, when I was sixteen. I noticed on the back of the album that it said: “Produced by Mickie Most, a Mickie Most production”. I thought: “How strange, put your name on twice.” But that stuck in my head, because I liked the artist and the production. When Mickie finally discovered me, I had two offers for a recording contract, but I liked what he did.
I sang on Donovan’s Cosmic Wheels alongside Leslie Duncan. He was really nice, very intelligent, and talented. He’d released the single Mellow Yellow [in 1966], which was code for a trend of smoking banana skins. I admitted to him: “I love Mellow Yellow. I’m one of the people that actually bought some bananas, scraped out the inside, baked ’em and tried to get high.” He said: “Suzi, that was a joke.” Mickie told me sales of bananas in the US had gone through the roof after Mellow Yellow, so I guess I wasn’t the only idiot.
Noddy Holder and Phil Lynott
In 1972, before I had any hits, Mickie got me on the first national tour for Slade, with Thin Lizzy, for six weeks. We all became good friends. Phil Lynott was a very nice guy. We all went to a lot of parties and had a good time. Noddy told me the Slade fans often didn’t like the support acts and they would throw things at them. But they didn’t throw anything at me. “You won them over,” he said.
[In 1999] I was the subject of [TV show] This Is Your Life, and Noddy was on it. I’d been whisked away after playing the Palladium, and the production wrapped at five a.m. We came out onto the street and made Noddy shout: “It’s Chriiiiistmaaaas!” to wake the place up.
Henry Winkler
I was touring Japan when I got a call from my agent asking would I like to audition for [TV show] Happy Days. I didn’t know the show, but he said: “Believe me, you’ll want to do this.” I flew over for the audition – I’d never acted before. I was wearing my ‘street leathers’, a jacket and pants, different to my stage outfits. The producer, Gary Marshall, said: “Oh, very clever of you to dress in the part.” I said: “What do you mean?” He said: “The character is called Leather Tuscadero.”
I got the job, three seasons from ’77 to ’79. My first time on the show, I was standing backstage, ready to come into Arnold’s diner. I’d done the rehearsals, but this was in front of a live audience. Henry Winkler, as Fonzie, came up to me and said: “How you doing? Okay?” I said: “Henry, I gotta tell you, I’m a little bit nervous.” He said: “I’ve watched your rehearsal. You’re gonna kill it. Go - you’re on.”
So I walked out, doing my Leather Tuscadero saunter, thinking: “I got this.” I got to my mark and went to speak, but the director said: “Excuse me, Miss Quatro. What are you doing here?” It was like somebody threw water in my face. I said: “That was my entrance.” He said: “No, you’ve got another page yet.” I walked back, and Henry was on the floor, laughing. He did it on purpose. He said to me: “Now nothing more can go wrong. Go out and enjoy yourself.” That took my nerves away. And when I came out again the applause was huge.
Peter Frampton
In 1973 we were making a song called Rolling Stone for my debut album. Mickie said to me: “I’ve got this guitar player coming in and I’ve kind of earmarked him for your band.” I didn’t have a band yet, and Peter was a very sweet, unassuming guy, and a good guitar player who’d gone solo after being in Humble Pie. When the session was over, Mickie said: “Nope, Peter can’t be in your band. There’s only going to be one star, and that’s you.” Who knew Peter would be so successful? Mickie had picked up on it.
Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde
Joan was a big, big fan when I came back to America in 1974. She was in the lobby of every hotel I stayed in, so cute with her jacket and haircut, wanting autographs. I was relieved when my publicist told me she’d formed The Runaways. I remember saying: “Good, she needs to put her obsession to good use.” She went her own more punky way, and she was really good.
Chrissie Hynde was also a big fan. She interviewed me in 1973 when she was a journalist with the New Musical Express. We didn’t have any place to talk, so we sat on the floor in the ladies room. Towards the end of the interview, she said: “I want to do what you do.” Then she got a tape recorder out and played me some songs she’d written. When Brass In Pocket came out [in ’79], I sent her a telegram that said: “Congratulations! I thought you were a dreamer, now you’re a winner. Love, Suzi.” She kept that telegram, and told that story on This Is Your Life. Isn’t that nice?
KT Tunstall
I’d been a fan and thought she was a talented writer. I was watching some rough cuts of the Suzi Q documentary [from 2019], and there she was. I went: “I didn’t know she was a fan!” We have a mutual friend, who said: “Do you want me to set up a meeting?” I said: “Yeah, that would be good.” So KT invited me for lunch at a recording studio in London that she was using, and there was an instant connection. She asked me to work on a couple songs with her for an album, but I had an inkling it would lead to something bigger.
The night before our session, she called to say: “I’ve cancelled it. This is more than that.” And I went: “Yeah, it is. Why don’t you come over for a few days, we’ll sit on my front room floor and we’ll write.” That’s exactly what happened. We started to talk, talk, talk. Whatever the subject, we’d pick up our instruments and a song would be there. It was obviously meant to be, and it became the album Face To Face [2023].
Lemmy
I saw him once at an after-hours party. I might have said hello to him, but I never knew him at all!
Suzi Quatro’s UK tour finishes in Bournemouth on April 20. See suziquatro.com for more info.
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