Ain't Complaining

Hey Zoo Freaks, the Zoo Crew has this one spinning on THE ZOO and it is Ain't Complaining from John Coghlan. The track carries that steady drive you expect from the boogie side of things, even if the story behind it stretches back a few decades and takes a few turns along the way. Originally cut by Status Quo for their 1988 album of the same name, the song was written by Rick Parfitt and producer Pip Williams. It went out as a single and reached number nineteen on the UK chart, solid enough but not the chart-topping blast some of the earlier material had delivered. The album itself entered the UK listings at number twelve and did not climb higher, the first time in a long run of studio releases that a Quo record missed the top ten. In later interviews Parfitt looked back on that period and said the music was too polite. There was no weight behind what they were doing. The edge had gone and they were not real anymore. That comment turns up in more than one retrospective and it fits the feel of the record, a step away from the frantic denim energy of the seventies toward something a little smoother. The single also came with some unusual packaging on certain seven-inch pressings, a limited history pack that included a special outer box and the start of a Status Quo family tree drawn by Pete Frame. It was one of the band's first CD singles as well, and a video version followed later in the year. The video itself drew comments for being a bit odd, with some viewers pointing out the strange choices that went into it. John Coghlan was no longer in the lineup by then. He had left in 1981, but years later he recorded his own take of the song for a collection of Status Quo material he performed, and that version sits on the album simply titled John Coghlan. Fans who follow his work know he has spent a good stretch of time keeping those classic numbers alive in his own sets, so hearing him behind a track from after his departure still feels like part of the same long road.

The way Coghlan got started has the kind of ordinary beginning that turns into a long career once the right people meet at the right moment. Born in Dulwich, South London, in 1946, he grew up with a Glasgow-born father and a London-born mother who was half French. The family was not a musical one, but his parents liked to go ballroom dancing and they took him along to the Crystal Palace Hotel. He would sit and watch the drummer in the big band and that was enough to spark the idea. He taught himself at first, playing along to his father's jazz records, and his dad bought him a small Broadway kit. At school he joined the Air Training Corps and ended up in a little squadron band with a couple of friends on guitar. One day two young musicians who rehearsed nearby came by to listen. That was Francis Rossi and Alan Lancaster. They asked if he would join their group, then known as the Paladins and later the Spectres. Coghlan has recalled that the three of them were playing through a single Vox AC30 amplifier and it sounded amazing. That was the start of it all. He left school at fifteen to begin an apprenticeship as a mechanic but the pull of the drums was stronger. He also took some formal lessons from Lloyd Ryan, the same teacher who later worked with Phil Collins on the rudiments. The early years involved plenty of local gigs, packing the gear into the Rossi family's ice cream van and heading out around South London. A six-week summer season at Butlin's in Minehead brought them into contact with Rick Parfitt, who was working in a cabaret trio at the time. The pieces came together, the name changed to Status Quo, and the first hit arrived with Pictures of Matchstick Men in 1968. From there the band shifted from the psychedelic sound into the hard-driving boogie that defined the seventies, and Coghlan stayed through fourteen albums and the live set that captured the energy of those years.

The nickname Spud came from a casual remark on the street. After a photo shoot or a Top of the Pops appearance the band was walking through Soho and Parfitt noticed Coghlan's trousers were a bit baggy around the backside. He said it looked like a bag of spuds and the name stuck. In France he picked up Nuff Nuff as well. Those kinds of labels were common in the band and in the forces-style nicknames they used. The road life was heavy on the parties and light on the rest, and by the early eighties the strain showed. During sessions for what became the 1+9+8+2 album Coghlan sat down at the kit, tapped around a bit, then stood up, kicked the whole thing apart, and walked out. He has said it had been creeping up on him for a while. There was never enough rest, things were not happy at home, and nobody in the band seemed too interested in anyone else's problems. The original group had been strong and it was a shame to let it fall apart. Lancaster figured he would be back the next day, but Coghlan was already on a plane home. After a spell on the Isle of Man he formed various projects, including Diesel with some of the old circle, and later John Coghlan's Quo to play the material from the years he had been in the band. An agent pointed out that he had every right to do those songs since he had played on the records. The lineup has shifted over the years but the idea stayed the same: keep the classic numbers going for the people who still want to hear them. He also took part in the Frantic Four reunion shows in 2013 and 2014, the original four members back together for a run of dates that reminded everyone of the old power. In interviews he has talked about the book Spud, written with Steven Myatt, that covers the ups and downs of those decades. The reunion tours were special, though the loss of Parfitt in 2016 and Lancaster later closed that particular chapter.

Through all of it the drumming has stayed rooted in that self-taught foundation and the lessons picked up along the way. Coghlan has said he never bothered much with regular cigarettes because he did not like smoke in his lungs, and he has spoken about how drugs changed people and how that side of the lifestyle took a toll. In one conversation he mentioned that he is happy to head down to the local pub with a couple of mates for a few pints and that the long-distance hauls are too knackering to keep up the way he did when he was sixteen. He has also noted that he would love to turn up and play one more time with Rossi, figuring the audience would enjoy it, though he knows the invitation the other way might not get a yes. The official page on Facebook carries updates from the shows and the book, and the account on X shares word on the Quo Connection dates and other appearances. Fans keep the conversation going in groups that celebrate the whole history of the band, including the years with the original drummer. The song Ain't Complaining sits in that longer story, a later track that still gets played and that fits the idea of rolling with what comes as long as the music keeps moving. That is the kind of steady beat the Zoo Crew likes to keep on the turntable for the Zoo Freaks who have been with it from the start.