ROCK AGAINST AGEISM
TOO OLD FOR ROCK ’N’ ROLL? FUCK OFF.
At what age are you supposed to stop?

Sixty?

Seventy?

Seventy-five?

Is there a bloke in an office somewhere with a clipboard who eventually taps you on the shoulder and says:

"Sorry, mate. You've had a good run. You're too old for rock 'n' roll now."

If there is, I'd like to meet him.

I've got a few things I'd like to tell him.

Because I've spent a good part of my life around music, and one thing I've learned is this:

Rock 'n' roll doesn't give a fuck how old you are.

People do.

That's the problem.

I'VE BEEN AROUND THE BLOCK
I've been involved in music for decades.

I've worked around major tours.

I've worked with bands.

I've promoted music.

I've been in rehearsal rooms, clubs, bars and venues where the carpet probably had more stories than most of the people drinking in them.

I've watched musicians arrive with nothing but a guitar, a few songs and an attitude.

I've watched some become successful.

I've watched others disappear.

I've watched bands split because somebody slept with somebody they shouldn't have.

I've watched friendships collapse over money.

I've watched musicians swear they'll never work together again and then turn up six months later having forgotten what the argument was about.

That's rock 'n' roll.

It's messy.

It's human.

And I've never stopped loving it.

THEN THERE'S STEVE
I've worked with Steve Dior for many years.

If you know Steve's story, you'll understand exactly why the whole idea of ageism in rock music makes me laugh.

West London.

Ladbroke Grove.

The London Cowboys.

The Idols.

Jerry Nolan.

The New York connection.

Keith Levene.

Chrissie Hynde.

Dee Dee Ramone.

A lifetime spent somewhere between punk, rock 'n' roll, chaos and survival.

Steve has lived through several generations of music.

And he's still here.

Still writing.

Still recording.

Still getting on stage.

Still making noise.

Still sounding like Steve Dior.

That last bit matters.

Because you can't manufacture history.

You can't download experience.

You can't walk into a rehearsal room at 19 and pretend you've spent the last forty years getting knocked about by life.

You can be brilliant at 19.

Of course you can.

But you can't fake mileage.

THE TEQUILA VOICE
Steve has what I call the tequila voice.

It's rough around the edges.

It's lived-in.

It's got a few miles on the clock.

And that's precisely what makes it interesting.

I don't want every singer to sound like they've just come out of a vocal academy with their teeth whitened and their career strategy printed out on A4.

Give me character.

Give me something with a bit of damage.

Give me a voice that sounds like it's been in a few fights.

That's rock 'n' roll.

I KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT GETTING OLDER
I'm not writing this as some bloke pretending he's still 25.

I'm not.

I've got the years.

I've got the grey hair.

I've got the memories.

I've got enough scars, mistakes and bad decisions to fill several books.

I've lived several lives already.

Bricklayer.

Music promoter.

Writer.

Traveller.

Dad.

Student.

I've been on building sites and backstage.

I've worked with my hands.

I've worked with musicians.

I've sat in university classrooms later in life when plenty of people would have been thinking about putting their feet up.

And I'm still moving.

That's what matters.

Not the number.

The movement.

I'M NOT TRYING TO BE YOUNG
Here's the thing that really pisses me off about the conversation around ageing.

People assume that if you're older and still doing things, you're desperately trying to be young.

No.

I'm not trying to be young.

I've already been young.

I've done it.

Some of it was brilliant.

Some of it was fucking stupid.

Some of it I wouldn't repeat if you paid me.

I'm not interested in going backwards.

I want to go forwards.

That's different.

Getting older isn't about pretending the years haven't happened.

It's about taking everything those years have thrown at you and doing something with it.

That's where the good stuff comes from.

THE YEARS GIVE YOU MATERIAL
I've always believed that life gives writers material.

The same applies to musicians.

Heartbreak.

Loss.

Love.

Failure.

Success.

Bad decisions.

Good decisions.

Regret.

Friendship.

Death.

Birth.

Work.

Travel.

Poverty.

Money.

Drugs.

Drink.

Family.

Loneliness.

Laughter.

The ridiculousness of being alive.

You accumulate all of that.

And then one day you pick up a pen or a guitar and some of it comes back out.

Why would we want to stop that?

ROCK MUSIC IS SUPPOSED TO BE REBELLIOUS
This is the bit I don't understand.

Rock music spent decades telling us:

Don't conform.

Question authority.

Break the rules.

Be yourself.

Don't follow the crowd.

Don't let anybody tell you who you are.

Then suddenly you reach a certain age and the music business says:

Actually, forget all that.

Now conform.

Look younger.

Act younger.

Dress younger.

Sound younger.

Appeal to a younger demographic.

Fuck that.

If rock 'n' roll ever had a rulebook, the first thing it should have said was:

IGNORE THE RULEBOOK.

AGEISM IS JUST ANOTHER FORM OF GATEKEEPING
The music industry has always had gatekeepers.

Somebody decides who's fashionable.

Somebody decides who's marketable.

Somebody decides who's worth signing.

Somebody decides who gets the festival slot.

Somebody decides who's relevant.

And sometimes the person making those decisions hears the age before they hear the music.

That's backwards.

If somebody can walk onto a stage at 68 and knock the place sideways, what exactly is the problem?

If someone at 72 writes a brilliant song, what difference does their date of birth make?

If a 75-year-old musician still has something to say, why the hell wouldn't we listen?

TOYAH GETS IT
Toyah Willcox is a good example.

She's 68 and still working across music, theatre and broadcasting after a career stretching back more than fifty years.

Age UK London is now launching a Rock Against Ageism series, with Toyah opening the series in London in November 2026. The event is specifically about challenging ageism and celebrating creativity later in life.

Good.

Because this isn't about giving older musicians a pat on the head.

It's about recognising that creativity doesn't suddenly disappear because you've got another candle on the birthday cake.

DAEVID ALLEN GOT THERE FIRST
And the idea isn't even new.

Daevid Allen was banging the drum about ageism decades ago.

His handwritten material from 1979 included "Rock Against Ageism" artwork, which has recently been reproduced with New York Gong's 2024 release About Time.

Think about that.

The bastard was already taking the piss out of ageism while plenty of today's industry executives were probably still wearing flares.

Some things really don't change.

THE YOUNG AREN'T THE ENEMY
And before anybody gets the wrong idea, this isn't old versus young.

I've got no problem with young musicians.

Quite the opposite.

I love seeing young bands coming through.

They should be kicking doors down.

They should be annoying people.

They should be breaking rules.

They should be making music that older generations don't understand.

That's what happened when we were young.

It's supposed to happen.

The problem isn't young musicians.

The problem is the assumption that creativity belongs exclusively to them.

It doesn't.

PUT THE GENERATIONS TOGETHER
I'd rather see generations mixing.

A 20-year-old guitarist playing alongside a 60-year-old drummer.

A young songwriter sitting down with somebody who's been writing songs for forty years.

An old punk showing a kid what it was like when there was no internet, no social media and no bloody Spotify.

And then the kid showing the old punk something he doesn't understand.

That's how culture survives.

That's how it moves forward.

Not by throwing one generation away when the next one arrives.

I'VE SEEN PEOPLE REFUSE TO DISAPPEAR
That's one of the things I love about rock music.

It refuses to die properly.

People disappear for ten years.

Twenty years.

Sometimes longer.

Then something happens.

Somebody phones somebody.

A rehearsal gets booked.

A guitar gets plugged in.

The drums start.

And suddenly they're back.

Older.

Maybe slower.

Maybe wiser.

Maybe carrying a few more scars.

But back.

And sometimes better.

Because they've got something they didn't have before.

Perspective.

AGE DOESN'T MAKE YOU TALENTED
Let's be honest.

Getting older doesn't automatically make you brilliant.

There are boring 70-year-olds.

There are brilliant 17-year-olds.

There are terrible bands in every generation.

There always have been.

Age isn't the qualification.

Talent is.

The point is simple:

Don't disqualify somebody because of their age before they've had the chance to show you what they've got.

Listen first.

Then decide.

I'VE GOT NO PLANS TO SIT QUIETLY IN THE CORNER
I'm not ready for the corner.

I've got books to write.

Music to work with.

Stories to tell.

Places to go.

People to annoy.

Ideas that still wake me up.

And probably a few more mistakes waiting around the corner.

Good.

I'm not frightened of that.

I've spent too much of my life moving forward to suddenly decide that getting older means stopping.

I've never been particularly good at doing what I'm told anyway.

Why start now?

WE DON'T NEED PERMISSION
That's probably the most important thing.

You don't need permission to be creative.

You don't need permission to start again.

You don't need permission to write your first song at 60.

You don't need permission to form a band at 70.

You don't need permission to get back on stage after twenty years.

You don't need permission to pick up a guitar when everyone thinks you're supposed to be sitting quietly at home.

And you certainly don't need permission to tell somebody who thinks you're too old to fuck off.

ROCK AGAINST AGEISM
The older I get, the less interested I am in other people's rules.

Maybe that's the great thing about age.

When you're young, you worry about what everybody thinks.

As you get older, you start realising most people aren't thinking about you at all.

They're too busy worrying about themselves.

So get on with it.

Write the song.

Make the record.

Start the band.

Get on stage.

Write the book.

Paint the picture.

Learn something new.

Fall in love.

Travel.

Make a complete arse of yourself.

Then get up and do it again.

Because getting older isn't the opposite of living.

It's proof you've survived long enough to keep doing it.

And if I've learned anything from rock 'n' roll, it's this:

You don't stop making noise because you're getting older.

You make better noise.

You've got more to say.

More to remember.

More to laugh about.

More to swear about.

More to write about.

More to sing about.

So don't tell me I'm too old for rock 'n' roll.

I've been around long enough to know better.

And if you think age has turned the volume down?

You haven't been listening.

Turn the fucking amp up.

ROCK AGAINST AGEISM.