The Moody Blues’ star Justin Hayward shares his journey of rock and roll success | Music | Entertainment


The Voice of Moody Blues Justin Hayward’ tour begins September 11

The Voice of Moody Blues Justin Hayward’ tour begins September 11 (Image: Getty)

The first performance that Sunday in October 1972 was at 4pm, the second at eight. “Between shows Ray Thomas and I went outside,” singer/guitarist Justin Hayward tells me. “There were fans everywhere but nobody recognised us.”

They spotted a tout ruthlessly scalping fans. Flautist Thomas handed over $400 for two $15 tickets, told him to clear off and then gave them away for free.

 “And they still didn’t recognise us,” laughs Justin, 75. “They knew the music, but they didn’t know us. Our logo was on the venue, not our faces. Ray said, ‘I’ve supposed we’ve arrived…’.”

Indubitably. Their eighth album, Seventh Sojourn was topping the American album charts, Nights In White Satin was their first US number one single, and the LP that had spawned it, 1967’s Days Of Future Passed had also gone Top 3.

The shows marked an incredible rebirth for the English band. They went on to sell more than 70 million albums and travel the world in their own customised Boeing 707 jetliner which had bedrooms, a lounge area and a resident on-board keyboardist.

Yet just seven years before the Moody Blues looked completely washed up.

Swindon-born Justin was 19 in 1966 when he joined the band consisting of Thomas, keyboardist Mike Pinder, drummer Graeme Edge, and bassist John Lodge, another new boy.

Ray Thomas, Justin Hayward, Graeme Edge and John Lodge of The Moody Blues

Ray Thomas, Justin Hayward, Graeme Edge and John Lodge of The Moody Blues (Image: Getty)

It was entirely unplanned. He’d sent a demo tape to Eric Burdon of The Animals who passed it on to Pinder.

The Moodies had begun as an R&B band, notching up their first Number One with 1964’s Go Now. Two years on, the only demand for them was in Belgium, where UK B-side Boulevard de le Madeleine had been a minor hit.

Back home, after a disastrous Stockport gig, a disgruntled fan accosted them saying they were the worst band he’d ever seen.

“On the way back, Graeme said quietly, ‘That guy was right, we are rubbish’.”

They ditched their suits and R&B covers and decided to stand or fall by their own songs instead.

Justin’s folk influences and Pinder’s then radical use of the Mellotron made the resulting Days Of Future Passed LP a Top 30 smash.

It sold more than 100,000 copies in Britain alone.

With the follow-up, 1968’s In Search Of The Lost Chord, Haywards says “we found our soul and direction; everything gelled.”

They also found new audiences – hippies. “We were playing in San Francisco when the whole Flower Power thing was happening and got caught up in it,” he shrugs.

Hallucinogens were naturally involved and the band began to be seen as philosophers (stoned).

Justin’s 1970 No 2 hit, Question, seemed profound to a new generation of fans – and compared to Edison Lighthouse it was.

“I think we were on a journey to find enlightenment,” says Justin. “But we only wanted to be true to our goal of making music, and that’s still true for me now. Make music, go on the road, make more music…”

I mention that the lyrics, targeting “a world of persecution that is burning in its greed” are still relevant today. “Not enough has changed,” he sighs.  

“Maybe we are to blame for not trying harder to change things…”

He pauses and adds, “I love the moment when I play Question live and the crowd reaction as it builds up.”

Justin admits he was seeking for enlightenment

Justin admits he was seeking for enlightenment (Image: Getty)

Back in the day, he embraced the Haight-Ashbury ethos entirely. 

“I tried psychedelics, I tried meditation, I gave everything a go. Lots of young people then and now want to find enlightenment and inner peace. That search came through in our music. We didn’t have an answer, we were still on a journey.”

A journey that would involve befriending Timothy Leary – Ray’s song, Legend Of A Mind, gently teased the LSD-advocating psychologist – and for one band member, not Justin, an encounter with Cynthia the Plaster Caster.

In Texas, a crazed fan spent weeks on a street corner telling passers-by the Moody Blues were “the true messiahs” destined to save the world.

“Then he met us and changed his mind and told everyone we were false messiahs…”

“The whole thing became very Spinal Tap,” Justin adds. “it’s wonderful bull**** most of the time.”

Surreal moments included the time a fan unstrapped the false bottom half of his leg and threw it over his head onto the stage – “it had a very strange arc of flight because it still had a trainer on it; eventually a roadie came on and kicked it back.”

Prague was riskier. After recording a TV show in 1968, they got back to their hotel only to discover the invading Russians had commandeered it.

One of them protested, “Hang on, we were here first and we’ve given you the Thomas Cook vouchers for the rooms” – but wiser heads prevailed and they crammed into one room in a different hotel until the British Consulate flew all the stranded Britons home.

David Justin Hayward’s life changed in 1957, the moment he heard Buddy Holly’s That’ll Be The Day thundering out of a transistor radio.

“I was ten when Buddy came along, but I knew exactly what I wanted to do.”

He persuaded his parents to buy him a £2 10s guitar on high purchase and formed his first band at eleven – wearing lens-less glasses to look like his idol.

“I was lucky, the Swindon music scene was very active and I worked with a lot of different bands in my early teens. I made enough money to buy a Gibson ES 335 guitar and a box amp. My parents knew I wanted to be a musician but being teachers, they said ‘Just get your five O levels and you can do what you want’”.

He duly passed all five exams. That summer, he answered an advert in Melody Maker. “It was a job with Marty Wilde, Kim’s dad. I was 16 and playing the guitar for him; it was like a baptism of fire.”

Justin admits his life changed when listening to Buddy Holly

Justin admits his life changed when listening to Buddy Holly (Image: Getty)

Hayward praises veteran rocker Marty for his advice and encouragement to write his own material. They played constantly; live gigs would also be the key to the Moodies’ success.

“We were known as a touring band,” says Justin, who went on to write 20 of the Moody Blues’ 27 hits. “We were on the road a lot, especially in America where we’d be on bills with bands like Canned Heat, Cream and Jefferson Airplane” – who they befriended along with the Beatles, Keith Moon and Jimi Hendrix.

“Suddenly in 1971, we found ourselves headlining. I remember thinking we’d be back at the hotel by 9, but the promoter said, ‘You’re on a quarter to ten, they’re a real Moody Blues audience.’ We’d become headliners.”

They split up in 1974 for three years – “we had to develop outside of the band to save it.”

In 1975, Justin released his first (of eight) solo or semi-solo albums, Blue Jays, a collaboration with John Lodge that went Top 5.

The hit single, Blue Guitar, recorded with 10CC as his backing band, followed. 1978’s Forever Autumn, from Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version Of The War Of The Worlds, did even better.

Hayward played The Journalist in the touring production from 2006-2010 and revived the role for its sell-out live arena tour at Easter.

Justin wrote on to write 20 of the Moody Blues’ 27 hits

Justin wrote 20 of the Moody Blues’ 27 hits (Image: PA)

Justin married model Ann Marie Guirron in 1970; they have one daughter. Now a grandfather, he is touring the UK next month as The Voice of Moody Blues Justin Hayward, singing songs old and new, and releasing a new single shortly through BMG, recorded in Italy earlier this year with recording partner Alberto Parodi.

In the rare moments he isn’t performing, writing or recording he loves cooking and horses.

Hayward was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Moody Blues in 2018 and was honoured with an OBE as part of the Queen’s birthday celebrations in June.

“When I got my OBE I was so proud. My first thought was, ‘I wish my parents were here’ – which would have been interesting as they were middle-class socialists. But I was thrilled, particularly in this Jubilee year. It was brilliant.”



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