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FAME AND FORTUNE

Francis Rossi: ‘They said I spent £2m on drugs. No way. It’s just a rock’n’roll myth’

He lost a fortune on a house sale and almost fell for a con about raising the Titanic, but his songs saved him from having to drive the family ice-cream van

Francis Rossi
Francis Rossi
JOBY SESSIONS/TOTAL GUITAR MAGAZINE/FUTURE/GETTY IMAGES
The Sunday Times

Francis Rossi formed what was to become Status Quo in 1962 with schoolmates in Catford, London. The band have had more than 20 UK Top Ten hits, with Rossi writing many of them, including Down Down, their only No 1. Quo opened Live Aid in Wembley in 1985 with Rockin’ All Over the World. They won the outstanding contribution to music award at the Brits in 1991, when they ripped off their tuxedos to show their trademark blue jeans. In 2010 Rossi and his bandmate Rick Parfitt were both appointed OBE. Once known for taking so much cocaine that his septum fell out in the shower, a teetotal Rossi, 72, makes smoothies and swims 40 lengths a day as he gets ready to tour with Quo next year. He lives in Surrey with his wife, Eileen, 66, and two of his eight children.

How much money is in your wallet?
Ooh, blimey, about £200. That would’ve been great in my day, wouldn’t it?

Which cards do you use?
I used to have shitloads of cards. It was a prestigious thing, the more cards you had the more clever you felt. Now I just have two, via my bank, Coutts, and I pay everything off quickly.

Are you a saver or a spender?
I look after money. I’m not miserly, but I worry about money long before there’s any need to. I’m 72 and it has hit me that most of my life has gone. I’ve always figured I’ll live until I’m 93. How the bloody hell am I going to finance that? My career’s not suddenly going to take off again, is it? I go around turning lights off. I’ve had my car nearly two years and I’ve only done 2,000 miles in it. If I’m going somewhere I’ll get someone to pick me up, I don’t want to put the miles on my car. Once I kept a car for 14 years and it only had 37,000 miles on.

I’ve saved £5,000 or £6,000 a year since I gave up hash five years ago. I miss it because I enjoyed the calming, insular thing of sitting, playing guitar, thinking it sounded marvellous. But that had to stop because I’m convinced it was getting stronger; in the morning I’d feel down, like there was no point to anything.

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What has been your most extravagant purchase?
I spent silly money on a suit. The band had a film out, Bula Quo!, and I needed something for the premiere. This PA took me somewhere in town and I thought it might be £1,000, but it was Ermenegildo Zegna and it was £3,500. I was, like, I’m going to wear it once!

I read somewhere that I spent £2 million on drugs — there’s no way. It sounds good in rock’n’roll mythology. I was always a weedy fella and was frightened of drugs. It was only when I began drinking that I started taking coke. I was out with [the band] Cream in Montreux in Switzerland, sometime between 1980 and 1982. We were in a Mexican restaurant and someone kept saying: “Go on, have a drink!” I can’t stand the taste of most alcohol. But they kept on: blokes do that to each other. So I drank six margaritas and I liked the sweet taste. From that point I became a drinker. There was a lot of pressure. They would say: “Want a toot? Want some coke?” I’d say no, thanks, but if I was tipsy I’d be like: “Yeaaah, go on then.” I wrote a song called Marguerita Time in 1983, but in 1987 I gave up coke and drinking. I’ve read that Class B drugs are a gateway, but I think that’s bullshit. Alcohol was what led me to cocaine.

Status Quo formed in the 1960s
Status Quo formed in the 1960s
MICHAEL PUTLAND/GETTY IMAGES

Have you ever been really hard-up?
Yeah, when I got married in June 1967, I was living with my first wife, Jean, and her sister, near Dulwich in south London. We were in a prefab filled with asbestos with 4in walls. F*** it was cold! Gigs were tight, so Jean told me to go on the dole. I went, this guy asked what I did and I said I was self-employed. “What do you mean, self-employed? Who d’you think you are?” He was really shirty, but he gave me £5 and said not to ever come back. Not long before that I’d been working at an opticians in Bromley, cutting lenses and doing the cake run for elevenses, earning £2.50 a week. I also had a spell cutting grass for the council, and was about to start driving an ice-cream van when Pictures of Matchstick Men took off, in February ’68.

How much did you earn last year?
Not much because we were in lockdown. I wrote most of the hits, so I get royalties, but I’d be getting even less without Sandie Shaw! I was at Buckingham Palace — I can’t remember why, but it was around the time I got my OBE. Shaw came over to talk about copyright because at that time songs went into the public domain after 50 years, so you stopped earning money. Sandie was like: “Come on, we’ve got to extend the copyright!” It’s now 70 years, and it’s all credit to her. I’m lucky it happened in time for me, but with books it goes on to your offspring, and with music it doesn’t — I find that wrong.

What has been your best investment?
Probably school fees. I’ve spent shitloads — a couple of million? I’ve got eight kids all far better educated than I am.

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Do you invest in shares?
No. Maybe I’m a scaredy cat, but I try not to go into areas I don’t understand. Lots of people in the music business wander into another field, thinking they know it, and lose fortunes. It’s all: “I’m a businessman!” No, you’re a dickhead that’s in a band that got lucky.

What was your worst investment?
I lost £45,000 investing in a huge development of holiday lets in Tenerife in 1978 or ’79. That was probably the last of my “Why don’t we invest in this or that?” moments. When I was in Australia with Rick two guys told us they were going to float the Titanic. They said they’d get ropes underneath, inflate these balloons, and it would float to the surface. I can’t remember how many million they wanted — it was always millions people wanted. We chatted away and it seemed like a great idea — but no one who’s trying to con you is going to make it sound like a shit idea, are they? Luckily the people who were looking after us made sure they didn’t get the chance to rip us off.

What’s better, property or pension?
With property you’ve always got it. With pensions I’ve had magical schemes that have all gone pop. There was one policy I got at 20, where I paid in tuppence or thruppence a week, for a payout of £80,000 when I was 40 or 50. When I took it out the house I was buying cost £9,800, so £80k sounded amazing. But of course when I was 40 all it did was help with my overdraft. I don’t know what pension I’ve got now, but I trust my adviser. I was a mess before I met him.

The band played Live Aid in 1985
The band played Live Aid in 1985
RON MCFARLANE/TV TIMES/GETTY IMAGES

Are you better off than your parents?
My parents really did work, but at the sufferance of the children because my brother and I were just left at home. For a while we had Italian girls living with us. They were only 13 or 14, and probably 16th cousins removed. They looked after us while my parents worked. My grandparents had a small ice-cream factory with a café in Catford, south London. My mother worked in the factory while dad went out and sold ice cream. In the evening they sold ice cream together. At one point my father was coming home, changing vans, then he’d go out selling fish and chips. When I was 10 or 11 we moved to Bedford Hill, in Balham. My parents bought an old-fashioned confectioners called the Candy Shop. The area’s sort of coming up now, but it wasn’t nice then. Once there were two prostitutes beating up another and my mother went and gave them a belting. They opened the shop at 8am and finished at 8pm, six days a week. Sunday it was 10am to 4pm. They were always working, that’s just how it was.

What’s your money weakness?
I’ve spent silly money on guitars. I’ve got about 40. I’ve bought three or four in a day before. They’re hard to resist. I paid £15,000 for a Fender Flame. That was 15 years ago, and I don’t even use it! When you’re famous or you’ve got money, things go up when you walk in the door.

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But I bought a green Telecaster in 1968 for £75 and auctioned it for almost £120,000. It became famous and people would make the sign of the cross when they saw it! The poor thing was worn out by the time I auctioned it off. Charity got a lot, and so did the taxman.

I buy a new car every two years or so. I had a Porsche once, because I tended to copy Rick for a while. But I’m not a sports car person. I wouldn’t buy a Ferrari — that’s a dickhead’s car. I’ve always been a BMW guy. Cars in England always used to break down but BMWs didn’t. If they put out a new series I try to resist, but there’s something about me that needs a large car. Perhaps I’m lacking in a certain department, but I like a nice large saloon. All the BMWs I buy are basically the same. I just get whatever’s top of the range. The last couple have been about £89,000.

Do you own a property?
I bought my first house for £9,800 when I was 20 and I sold it about three years later for £21,000. In 1974 I bought a sprawling 11-bedroom house in Surrey for £50,000. I had a pool built and thought I’d finish my days there. Then, 15 years ago, I saw this place they were building 100 yards around the corner. I’d begun to worry about getting older. The new place was just seven bedrooms and only an acre of land. It had stone floors with underfloor heating. An estate agent friend said I could get £4.2 million for the house I was in. I wanted a quick sale, so I put it on the market for £3.9 million. The new house was £3.5 million and I wanted it badly, so I took out a bridging loan that I ended up having for 18 months. The interest was phenomenal — it really did hurt. The market crashed, so the house finally sold for two-something million. I lost a f***ing fortune! I moved in here in January 2008. It was a bad investment, except that I love the place and I’m happy here. It’s got a small indoor pool — only foolish English people put them outside! We’ve worked a lot on the garden, and now it’s beautiful. My wife and I have a bathroom each. People think that’s snobby, but who wants to share a bathroom?

Status Quo tour the UK with their show Out Out Quoing in Feb-Mar and Nov-Dec 2022; aegpresents.co.uk/quo