Introduction
When Andy Scott pushes through the saloon doors of The Barley Mow in Paddington, London, heads inevitably turn. His unmistakable white mane trails behind him, echoing the glam rock legacy that still clings to his name. This historic pub, where the original members of Sweet once gathered for a few well-earned pints, serves today as the perfect backdrop to reflect on the band’s final album. Classic Rock has brought Scott back here, not just for nostalgia’s sake, but to honor an era that helped shape British music history.
The Barley Mow wasn’t just any old haunt—it was the band’s place of refuge after marathon studio sessions nearby at Audio International Studios. Songs like “Hellraiser,” “Blockbuster!” and “The Ballroom Blitz” were crafted in those intense creative bursts, and local legend has it that even a verse of “Fox On The Run” was born within the pub’s very walls.
Reflecting on the Past, Embracing the Present
“I might have been back once or twice,” Scott chuckles, when asked if he’s returned since those glittering days of the 70s. But these days, his life is quieter. In June 2024, he turned 75, celebrating surrounded by longtime fans in Portmeirion. He now lives peacefully in the West Country with his wife Jane and their loyal dog Ted.
Though he wasn’t part of the earliest lineup (the group was still called The Sweet until 1974), Scott became Sweet’s third lead guitarist in 1970. Over the years, as time took its toll—frontman Brian Connolly passed in 1997, drummer Mick Tucker in 2002, and bassist Steve Priest in 2020—Scott became the band’s last surviving original member. It’s a fact that weighs heavily on him. Despite the inevitable conflicts that came with band life—including the painful decision to part ways with Connolly in 1979 as he struggled with alcoholism—Scott’s reflections are rich with reverence for his former bandmates.
Time, Loss, and Legacy
After a 15-year battle with testicular cancer, Scott doesn’t take life for granted. He remains committed to his music, and even more so, to appreciating the years he has left. Today, with a half-pint of bitter in hand and old memories swirling in the air, Scott takes in The Barley Mow one more time—just steps away from where the band once turned studio sessions into anthems that defined glam rock.
“We used to finish entire singles in a single day, B-sides and all,” he remembers. “Then we’d head over here. I think the first was ‘Poppa Joe’ in 1972, although we didn’t actually play on that one ourselves.”
In the early days, producer Phil Wainman and songwriting duo Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn—known as Chinnichap—oversaw the records. At first, only Connolly’s vocals were used, with session musicians filling in the rest. “Our first session as the actual band was for ‘Little Willy,’” he adds, referencing their 1972 hit that reached No.4 in the UK charts.
Memories at the Bar
Transported back to those hazy, glitter-filled days, who would’ve been the first Sweet member at the bar?
Scott grins. “Steve wouldn’t have been buying, that’s for sure. Mick or I would usually be paying. And if the tour manager was around, drinks were definitely on the band.”
As for who was most likely to be flirting with the barmaid?
“Guess who?” he says with a laugh. “Wasn’t me.”
Surely it was Brian Connolly, the charismatic frontman?
“Nope. It was Mick. He even wanted to include a dedication to the barmaid from The Barley Mow on the Sweet Fanny Adams album. You can check—it’s actually there.”
Glam Even in the Pub
The image of Sweet striding into the pub in full glam attire is almost too good to be true—but it happened. “The ridiculous thing is we’d show up to recording sessions in full glam gear,” Scott recalls, slightly amused. “Mick and I would wear long leather or fur coats, even in winter. Brian would usually go with matching jacket and trousers. Steve? He dressed down most of the time.”
Their outrageous outfits and over-the-top style may have made them icons of the glam era, but at their core, they were just musicians seeking joy, escape, and each other’s company. And in pubs like The Barley Mow, they found that sense of camaraderie—one pint at a time.