They were the quintessential rock band, captured in their prime on a new box set. Former members recall the magic and druggy descent of Thin Lizzy – even if they can’t agree on it
If you want to see the platonic ideal of a rock band, go to YouTube and search “Thin Lizzy Rainbow 1978”. You’ll find the band’s classic lineup – Phil Lynott, Brian Downey, Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson – in full flight, and even the degradation of old dubbed recordings can’t diminish their power. Gorham and Robertson flank Lynott, the trio in motion, the two guitarists criss-crossing and taking to the monitors, Lynott in the centre, bass held high, a beautiful, heavy-lidded man half seducing his audience and half assaulting it.
For a couple of years, by this point, Lizzy had been one of the most exciting rock bands around. Their studio albums had finally started matching their live reputation, and the double album Live and Dangerous – a de facto greatest hits for a band who had been a little short on actual hits – had taken their thrilling show to the people who had never seen it.
