Question 1:

AB: When and how did you meet Lemmy?

MF: I can't actually remember when I first met Lemmy. It was either at the Roundhouse, which was then like a psychedelic all-nighter, or it was at Middle Earth, which was the other psychedelic all-nighter, and, y'know, there'd be … everyone was taking massive amounts of speed, which was probably how we first came to meet.

I remember after that we were both on the same label, when the Deviants made an album called Disposable, and the Sam Gopal Dream Elevator album, [NB: Correct title is Escalator] they both came out within weeks of each other and we used to sort of ... we'd come across each other playing, and the Sam Gopal Dream were always kind of a problem, because they didn't have regular drums, they had tablas, which required every microphone in the house, and PAs were very primitive in those days. There'd be howling, screaming feedback and they'd never really quite get started, is my recollection. And we'd always be waiting to go on or something, y'know, and have to haul all these tablas off and put the regular stuff back. I don't know, it was a strange concept - raga-rock. But that's when I first started seeing a lot of Lemmy, when we were both in these two bands on the Stable label.

Question 2:

AB: When did you start writing songs with him?

MF: This again I can't quite remember. It was later, when he was in Hawkwind and wanted to put something on … whatever the album is that has "Lost Johnny" for the first time, and he said, "Hey, you got any lyrics?" and I said yeah, and we wrote "Lost Johnny" and it came out on the Hawkwind album, and it came out on Motörhead, I think, and I made a single of it, on the other side from a weird version of the Rolling Stones' "Play With Fire".

And then it sort of went on from there. When Motörhead was coming up I gave him "Keep Us On The Road" and when Overkill was coming up I gave him "Damage Case", and then it sort of faded away, 'cause I think Lemmy started writing his own lyrics with great fluidity. And that was the end of that kind of writing partnership, because, y'know, I really think Lemmy's lyrics are … quite adequate. He can make it on his own now.

Question 3:

AB: Is "Lost Johnny" the only Farren/Kilmister song you've recorded?

MF: Yes, it's the only Farren/Kilmister song I've recorded.

Question 4:

AB: Have you ever played with Motörhead?

MF: Yes, twice. Once at the Marquee Club, during the days when Tony Secunda was managing the band and morale was at a very low ebb. It seemed like a fun thing to do, to cheer everybody up. I got up, and then Larry Wallis got up, and it was all very jolly.

Then the second time was sort of Motörhead, it was this concert that Wilko organized to save John Keats' cottage in the Lake District, some fundraising thing. And there was Wilko, and there was a band called the Count Bishops, I recall, and Motörhead, working under the name of Iron Fist And The Hounds From Hell, if I remember rightly. I think Charlie Murray's band, Blast Furnace And The Heatwaves were on. And we did "Lost Johnny" that night.

I believe, somebody told me, there is indeed actually a bootleg of this, coming out of Germany, but I've never come across one. In fact, here's a message: if anyone can come across one I'd love to have one. I don't know what it's called but it seems to be of that Roundhouse show. In fact, there was a mobile unit there - this is trivia - recording a Count Bishops album. I was also the compére of the show. And I think it also taped all the other acts - I know it taped Wilko as well - and I think somebody got the tape and booted it. So check this out: there is a boot of that show, and I would really dearly like to have one if somebody could arrange it.

Question 5:

AB: Are there likely to be more Farren/Kilmister songs in the future?

MF: This I somehow doubt, the way things are set up at the moment. I mean, he's in London, I'm in New York. I've got my hands full with writing a musical with Wayne Kramer, and, no, I don't think so, not in the near future. Who knows, though?

Question 6:

AB: Have you any stories to tell of life with the Deviants and Lemmy in the early days?

MF: Oh, Lordy … lemme think about this and go onto another question.

Question 7:

AB: Why reform as The Deviants last year?

MF: Well, these things are strange. In actual fact, the reason we re-formed as The Deviants last year was, uh, our friend Steve Sparkes, who was The Deviants' original manager and a total fuckup at the time, was having his 40th birthday party and we thought we'd celebrate this. And one of the ways of celebrating was to re-form as many of The Deviants as there are left - and we can still stand to talk to. In fact, a number have died, and some we just couldn't stand to play with. So the band you saw was basically what you got out of this thing. And Psycho Records wanted to put out a live album of the show, and Wayne Kramer thought he might come with us, and he did, and that's how it all came about.

Question 8:

AB: Do you gig in New York at all, or only when you come to London?

MF: Well, I've done a few things in New York. I had a sort of fun R&B/Blues band for a while, and now it's all got kinda serious because here am I in New York with Wayne, writing this musical and working with a 14-piece company - part band, part acting company - putting together a musical called The Last Words Of Dutch Schultz. When Dutch Schultz, the gangster, was shot, he raved and slipped in and out of delirium for five hours while a police stenographer took notes, and it's a very weird stream-of-consciousness kind of … well, this gangster's dying rap, y'know. All the songs are based on his strange phrasing. Ahh, you have to hear it to understand it. Which brings us to …

Question 9:

AB: Is there a new LP from you in the pipeline?

MF: Well, I sure as hell hope so, because it'll be the Last Words Of Dutch Schultz LP. This is a very strange departure for me, and hard to explain at this moment when we're right in the middle of doing it.

Question 10:

AB: When can we expect to see you playing live next?

MF: Well, I was playing live with the Dutch Schultz show at the Danceteria last week, and we're working at the Pyramid Club through September, and, y'know, I'm working really quite hard live. But in London, I don't know. We have to see what comes about.

Question 11:

AB: How did you become a journalist?

MF: I've always basically written as well as making music - something else to do is to write. When I got kinda jaded with being on the road and taking drugs and rushing around with a four-piece rock 'n' roll band, which was once in 1970 for a few years, and then again in … well, I picked up rock 'n' roll again, I guess, around the Vampires Stole My Lunch Money and Screwed Up time, so … I don't know …

As you get older you less and less want to be out on the road, and writing is quite appealing. But then again, writing is incredibly boring, 'cause you sit by yourself with the TV on and you write. And then you have to go down the bar and get drunk, just to sort of take the weight off. So they both have their merits and they both have their problems. Basically the merits and the problems in both cases are the over-consumption of drugs and alcohol, which is really what it comes down to. What can I say? I enjoy both, and I don't think they're mutually exclusive either. It's, y'know, you do one, you do the other. And they kind of balance things out, because rock 'n' roll is exceedingly hectic and writing isn't.

Question 12:

AB: What was your best assignment?

MF: I once went out on the road with Jerry Lee Lewis for three days and never got an interview with him, never got nothing, and he was drunk as a skunk up in his hotel room with his new wife, who was a cocktail waitress. I think he'd met her about two weeks before. That was quite amusing. That made me realise that, even though I worry about my own drinking, there is somebody out there who is much, much worse. It's a miracle Jerry Lee Lewis is still alive.

Question 13:

AB: What or who inspired you to write books?

MF: I dunno, it was a logical step. I mean, these fantasies come into my head, I was writing comic books and I was writing short stories, and one day I just started and it went on until I'd finished. And that's really the only way you can write books. You start at the beginning and plough through it. It takes months, and you simply have to have the concentration to be able to carry on for months. But when it's all over it's quite good fun, and this nice book comes out.

Question 14:

AB: Where do your ideas for your books come from?

MF: That's impossible to answer. It comes from all over the place. It comes out of the TV, it comes out of the air, it comes out of my very perverse mind. It comes from all over the place. Strange things you've remembered. Y'know, strange things you've half-forgotten. It all blends together.

Question 15:

AB: Are you working on a book at the moment?

MF: Yes, I am. I'm working on a new science fiction book, and in a couple of months, sometime around the beginning of October, I have a book out called … well, I dunno what it actually is called, I think it's just called The Black Leather Jacket … yes, in fact, that's what it is called: it's called The Black Leather Jacket and it's an entire history of the black leather jacket in 20th Century culture, and there's lots of pictures, and it's gonna be hilarious fun to read. You can recommend it strongly to all your readers.

Oh, I never answered about "Do you have any stories to tell about life with The Deviants and Lemmy in the early days?"

Oh God, yes, there are so many, but probably best to draw a veil over them. We were all exceedingly badly-behaved. We all took far too many drugs. We all drank too much. Lemmy took more speed than any human being I've ever seen, which could be great fun but which could also cause problems when you were trying to sleep. We probably deserved to go to jail many times over [walks off to get cigarette] but in the main didn't. Some people fucked up and are dead. Some people kept some kind of faith and are still alive. In the final analysis I guess that's what counts. It was an awful lot of fun. It was an awful lot of fun. I guess it still is, actually. Let's not be pessimistic.