Meat Loaf is gone!

He apparently was an awesome fantasy football player. Heard one the guys from Alice In Chains talk about how they invited Meatloaf to play in their league. Meat told them “you don’t want me in your league” they let him in anyway and he crushed everyone lol.
Jerry Cantrell
 
There's a great story from when he toured Ireland in 1989. His career was floundering but he had a loyal following here and he played every venue you can think of. Small halls, hotel function rooms, literally sheds in the middle of nowhere. Now the crowds here can be eh, a little rowdy at times and at one gig the crowd were in riotous form and hurling everything you can think of around the venue and onto the stage. This account is hilarious.

Attempting the unenviable task of protecting Meat Loaf from debris and holding the crowd back was my pal Marty. He was standing in the pit directly on front of the stage, swatting beer cans when suddenly, everything in the community centre went into slow motion.


Marty recalls: “The lights caught something shiny and a second or two later I saw it. I thought ‘oh no… this is it… show’s over’…”


Flying through the air was… a wheelchair. :rofl:


The chair flew directly over Marty’s head. He turned just in time to see Meat Loaf’s eyes swell with an unusual mixture of both fear and wonder. The burly singer put out an arm and attempted to step back. The stage was so small he stumbled into the drum riser just as the wheelchair crashed onto the boards in front of him. In slow motion the big man appeared to fall, the empty wheelchair bouncing to his left, one wheel comically spinning.

Marty remembers the crowd cheering. He was sure he could make out someone screaming, but by the time he could react Meat had gotten to his feet, grabbed the mic, roared at the audience and hurled it at them as he stormed off.

However, the lead of the mic was too short and it hit the advancing Marty, whose own incredulity at what had been launched onto the stage had prevented him from getting up there sooner. As he climbed onto the stage the band were already leaving it. The show was not even a half an hour old.

As he arrived backstage to find Meat Loaf ablaze with swearwords, anger and American hand-gestures, Marty decided to let the concert promoter do the talking. There was no way Meat Loaf would return to the stage. “No fucking way!” said the big man. “Not after what they did to that poor kid in the wheelchair.”

“Christ!” thought Marty. “Who was actually in the wheelchair?” There was no way of knowing if there was a poor kid, such was the volume of people within the Community Centre, and there was no way Meat Loaf was going back in front of them to find out.

They lairy audience began to get even more restless. A riot – unheard of in rural rocking circles, though another pal of mine swore blind his emigrant brother was at a Dio-era Black Sabbath gig in the states when one broke out – was almost certainly on the cards.

Despite pleas that returning to the stage would calm the restless natives, Meat Loaf stormed out of the venue towards his bus, his band and entourage close behind in a show of solidarity and strength. The promoter, his entourage and my pal Marty tried to reason with him, but to no avail. Out of the blue, an angry man in a denim jacket appeared.

Could he be linked to the wheelchair? Er, no.

“Get back on that stage ya bollocks,” he roared at Meat Loaf, as he stormed over to him, arm coiling up to his side. “We paid good fucking money to see you!”

The man went for Meat Loaf. Would Meat Loaf go for him? The man’s fist looked deadly. He raised it back and pushed it out. Acting on instinct, my pal Marty dived in to protect Meat Loaf. He was, after all, on security detail.

Again, everything suddenly went into slow motion. Marty’s feet left the ground as he launched himself into the air. As his face flew into view and blocked Meat Loaf’s head, the irate audience member’s fist stuck, connecting with his nose. Blood spurted loose as Marty completed his dive and landed on the tarmac.

Meat Loaf’s own people managed to get their man out of the way and within seconds he was on a bus, bound for the hotel. My pal Marty lay on the ground, his nose broken, but no injury could dent his pride at ‘taking a bullet’ for Meat Loaf.

“It was like a Presidential movie,” he recalls. The tour resumed in Carlow the following night, where Meat Loaf personally thanked Marty for intervening the night before. Security was tightened up considerably, with a load of army and hardy FCA (local defence force) boys drafted in on the promise of free tickets, a couple of cans and a few bob, and for the first time on the sold-out tour, ‘house full’ signs were erected and the doormen said no.
 
There's a great story from when he toured Ireland in 1989. His career was floundering but he had a loyal following here and he played every venue you can think of. Small halls, hotel function rooms, literally sheds in the middle of nowhere. Now the crowds here can be eh, a little rowdy at times and at one gig the crowd were in riotous form and hurling everything you can think of around the venue and onto the stage. This account is hilarious.
Marty, Meat Loaf's bodyguard/stuntman...great story! What is "bob" at the end?
 
People automatically think of the guitar as being the inevitable instrument of note in BOOH, but really, when you listen to it, it's the piano.
Good call on that. It was like the stretch of albums the Stones did from Beggars Banquet through Exile on Main Street. So much of that was driven by mostly Ian Stewart's piano licks but also Billy Preston's organ.
 
Rocky Horror became the cult classic when I was in high school and Paradise by the Dashboard Light was the anthem of my senior year. It seems that all the characters of my youth are leaving us.
because your an old ass mofo :coffee:




not far behind I think Bat of Hell was middle school for me
 
This guy had tremendous pipes. Absolutely loved all of his music and he will be missed.

You will never be forgotten and thank you for your kind of Rest in peace brother
 

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I've been hearing a lot of MeatLoaf stories and ran across this one:

Long before Prince Andrew became known as an accused-rapist pal of Jeffrey Epstein, he was almost on the receiving end of a Meat Loaf beating. In the late ’80s, the singer was one of several celebrity guests on It’s a Royal Knockout, a charity game show involving the royal family. As Meat later recalled to The Guardian, he nearly had it out with Andrew after the latter’s wife, Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, took a liking to the singer.

“Fergie wasn’t exactly flirting with me, but she was paying attention to me, and I think Andrew got a little — I could be wrong, I’m just reading into this — I think he got a little jealous … Anyway, he tried to push me in the water. He tried to push me in the moat. So I turned around and I grabbed him and he goes, ‘You can’t touch me. I’m royal.’ I said, ‘Well you try to push me in the moat, Jack, I don’t give a shit who you are, you’re goin’ in the moat.’”
 
I've been hearing a lot of MeatLoaf stories and ran across this one:

Long before Prince Andrew became known as an accused-rapist pal of Jeffrey Epstein, he was almost on the receiving end of a Meat Loaf beating. In the late ’80s, the singer was one of several celebrity guests on It’s a Royal Knockout, a charity game show involving the royal family. As Meat later recalled to The Guardian, he nearly had it out with Andrew after the latter’s wife, Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, took a liking to the singer.

“Fergie wasn’t exactly flirting with me, but she was paying attention to me, and I think Andrew got a little — I could be wrong, I’m just reading into this — I think he got a little jealous … Anyway, he tried to push me in the water. He tried to push me in the moat. So I turned around and I grabbed him and he goes, ‘You can’t touch me. I’m royal.’ I said, ‘Well you try to push me in the moat, Jack, I don’t give a shit who you are, you’re goin’ in the moat.’”
He should have beat the shit out of the parasite.
 
He should have beat the shit out of the parasite.
Any decent American or Irishman in that situation would simply say, 'I couldn't give a shit who you are...I come from a republic where we got rid of that inbred, undemocratic horseshit eons ago...'
 
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