Keith Moon: 1947-1978

LONDON — Keith Moon died before he got old. The Who‘s spark-plug drummer, who turned thirty-one on August 23rd, was found dead in the bedroom of his Mayfair flat on September 7th by his fiancé, Annette Walter-Lax, a Swedish actress.

According to the autopsy, death was caused by an overdose of the prescription sedative Haminevrin.

Although the official inquest hasn’t been completed, Moon’s friends rejected the possibility of suicide. “He loved life too much,” said bassist John Entwistle. Roger Daltrey thought the overdose typical of Moon’s excesses. “I’ve seen him take twenty-five leapers [amphetamines] and then drink a bottle of brandy many times,” he said. Both said that although Moon was concerned with his weight – he’d gained nearly twenty pounds – he had been in good spirits recently.

Keith Moon: One-Man Wrecking Crew

It was, in any event, an uncharacteristically passive end for one of rock’s most flamboyant figures. When publicist Keith Altham said that “if Keith wanted to kill himself, he’d get in a sports car and drive through a brick wall,” it wasn’t a metaphor. In a way, his death was more traumatizing because of its peacefulness.

His death abounded in ironies. September 7th is Buddy Holly‘s birthday, and Moon had celebrated it the night before at a party thrown by Paul McCartney (who publishes Holly’s music) at London’s fashionable Peppermint Park restaurant before going on to a screening of The Buddy Holly Story. Other guests included David Frost and Eric Clapton. Frost, who sat near Moon, said Keith seemed “tremendously relaxed and content.”

After the screening. Moon and Annette went to a nightclub and returned home about four a.m. They rose for an early breakfast, then Moon went back to bed, where he was discovered around two p.m. Speculation was that he had taken Haminevrin both times he bedded down, probably by the handful. Combined with the alcohol consumed the night before, the result was lethal. Still, it wasn’t an unusual scenario for Moon. “I think someone looked down and said. ‘Okay, that’s your ninth life.”‘ Entwistle said.

But Dr. Max Glatt, a leading British medical authority on alcoholism, told the London Sunday Times that Moon should never have been given the drug, which is regarded as highly effective in treating alcoholism and mania (from which Moon suffered). “Haminevrin is widely misunderstood by general practitioners,” Glatt said. “It is suitable for a limited period of a few days but should not be used by patients who are not confined to bed.”

Moon, of course, was notoriously excessive. His feats of drinking and hotel room demolition are legends. His exploits included nailing all the furniture of a hotel room to the ceiling; using firecrackers to blow up toilet bowls; driving at least one car into a swimming pool; and visiting London pubs with former Bonzo Dog Band member Viv Stanshall, dressed Nazi uniforms. “You’d come offstage and still be buzzin’,” Moon said recently. “Then you’d go to a party and it’d get out of hand, get wild. Things get broken. If you’re sitting around after a show and there’s something you don’t like, you just switch it off by throwing a bottle through the screen.”

Nonetheless, Keith Moon was among the most creative musicians rock & roll has produced. Born in 1947, he was the youngest member of the Who and the only member that did not grow up in Shepherd’s Bush, a working-class area in North London. Instead, he was born in Wembley, near England’s largest football stadium. His father was a motor mechanic, his mother a cleaning lady. Moon attended Harrow Tech and became a trainee electrician. Before joining the Who, he played surf music in a semipro band, the Beachcombers.

Moon hooked up with the Who in 1964, after the group’s original drummer, Doug Sanden, was kicked out for being overage. Moon’s audition concluded with the destruction of a drum kit that had served its previous owner for twenty years.

His untamed style helped shape the Who’s powerful style and that of many of the punk and heavy metal bands that followed in their wake. “He made the drums sing,” Entwistle noted. “He played every instrument in the band along with us. His breaks were melodic, because he tried to play with everyone in the band at once.”

Roger Daltrey, sitting in the editing room after viewing the Who’s first film, The Kids Are Alright, was clearly distraught. His normal edgy, energetic manner was’ subdued, and his huge blue eyes glistened with something other than their usual excitement. “It’s the end of an era,” Daltrey said quietly. And then with determination: “He was the most original drummer in rock. We could never replace him because we’ve never met anyone like him before.”