Ein anderer Mott ist Tot

Just a year on from the death of Mott the Hoople drummer Dale Griffin, I discover - from Radio 4's excellent obituary programme Last Word - that the band's bassist (and founding member) Pete Overend Watts has also gone to join the great jam session in the sky. In fact, he died back in January, so Last Word was a bit slow off the mark here.
 Watts, who could belt out a humdinging bass line with the best of them, embraced the band's glam rock image with gusto, wearing platform shoes so high that roadies had to get him back on his feet if he fell over on stage. However, when the music career ended, he was happy to shun the limelight, dabbling in antique dealing, gentlemen's hairdressing (briefly) and, with more enthusiasm, carp fishing. He also developed a taste for long-distance walking, despite a professed dislike of any kind of pedestrian activity. A couple of years ago, he wrote a book, The Man who Hated Walking, recounting his adventures on the Southwest Coast Path. Watts even attempted to walk from Land's End to John O' Groats, but couldn't stick to the route, at one point taking a massive diversion into the Peak District, simply because he realised he'd never been there before.
 The obituaries - Last Word included - have focused on All the Young Dudes (which made a heap more money for Bowie than for Mott) as 'the defining anthem of its era', etc. Well, I beg to differ: when it comes to defining anthems - not only of 'its era' but of the whole era of rock 'n'  roll - surely it's got to be All the Way from Memphis. I'd say it belongs in any list of the ten (or maybe twenty) definitive rock 'n' roll belters - you know, the list that begins with Elvis's That's Alright Mama and continues with... Well, what would you include?
 While you're thinking (or not), here, once again, is All the Way from Memphis. Enjoy.