You grew up in the East End - Bethnal Green.

Yes, the first part of my life.

And you went to be a butcher's apprentice.

In the end I didn't serve an apprenticeship, I just went as another member of the shop. I wasn't good at it at all; I couldn't master it. There's a feeling that you had when you had mastered it, but I never got anything but, 'No, that isn't right.'

Were you listening to music at the time?

Yes, of course I was; anything that was coming to my ears.

You liked the blues singer J. B. Lenoir. didn't you?

I did hear J.B. Lenoir as a child. He is a very special symbol of African slavery. His singing is really symbolic, truthfully symbolic; it really puts you there because of the high voice.

Did you listen to Hank Marvin?

Yes, loved it. Beautiful, very soothing. I find it very inoffensive.

And people like Freddie King and Buddy Guy; when did you start listening to them?

After Eric Clapton. After I'd heard The Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, John Lee Hooker, that kind of thing.

Were they your inspiration to take up the guitar?

No. It was just my brother. My brother was strumming and I said wished I could. And he gave me a chord book to see if I could pick anything up from it, but I couldn't. I didn't even recognise the chord that I could play already. I couldn't make anything of it.

Did you find the guitar itself difficult to learn?

Yes I did, now I think about it. My brother taught me the chords, but when he wasn't around I found it impossible to do anything, but these chords. It was very hard for me to learn lead lines. I can see myself looking at the guitar neck, now, and I really didn't know what to make of it.

How dld you learn it in the end, then?

Do you remember the programme 'Gun Law'? Well. I knew I could, pick up those few notes, by trial and error.

So you just picked up lead guitar?

Yes, you have to, don't you? I had to make connections if I could. I had a Spanish guitar and there was a Spanish guitar bit on 'Gun Law" which reminded me of my guitar in some way, and I just felt it was for me.

What were the first electric guitars that you had?

My brother had an electric one called a Club 40. My first electric guitar was a bass guitar, called a Star - not a Framus Star bass. He also had a Harmony guitar and I used that as a bass guitar. Then I used it when I was first in the John Mayall group, as a lead guitar. It was quite nice, worked quite well. Then I had a Les Paul.

Did you like the sound of the Les Paul?

No, I didn't really like anything but the cherry colour; it was a nice colour and it was a sweet kind of design, And although it took me back somewhere to Les Paul and Mary Ford - my brother had records of theirs and I remember the guitar playing and the singing - I kind of celebrated upon this guitar for some reason. Eric Clapton had one and it looked nice and played good.

You say you saw the Rolling Stones and The Yardbirds. Where was that?

Oh, just floating around. They were scruffy and I enjoyed it because I was scruffy as a kid and when you go to school you dress formally. And anything to get out of that! The Rolling Stones were all scruffy, but they had stylisation things. They used to wear things like waistcoats - all stained and dirty, second-hand things - and it was just a giggle, it was free. It was going away from school, anything away from the school direction.

When did you first see Eric Clapton play?

I first saw Clapton at the Crawdaddy Club with The Yardbirds.

Were you impressed?

Yes, I loved it. I was impressed with his playing, but I was a bass player at the time, so I was listening to Paul Sarnwell-Smith more than anything. But the guitar playing was fabulous. Wow! He actually played it, not like the Rolling Stones and The Beatles, who were just filling in a solo, clunking along; the whole thing was a break. Do you remember that? The whole piece used to suddenly have a break, where the whole band goes into it, not just the guitar player.

So you were playing bass?

Yes, I tried to play like Paul Samwell-Smith. But when I first heard Bill Wyman in the Rolling Stones I started to try and play like him. I used to really enjoy myself, standing showing the other boys - 'He goes like this'- and holding the bass up like this; earnest, serious.

Why did you swap to guitar?

I actually started off playing the guitar, playing Shadows things, and then went on to bass. I was round this bloke's place one day and he had a Gibson bass guitar and I looked at it and thought, 'Wow,. electric bass guitar, what a fabulous-looking thing.' It was all solid, four big strings, really kind of meaty, and I thought I would like to do that, so I went onto bass for a while.

What got you back on to the guitar?

It was The Yardblrds; the Eric Clapton movement.

So he made you want to play the guitar again?

No, nothing so personal; it was only to become professional. I was a bass player while I was at work, but I thought I might be able to find a professional group and play the guitar, because there weren't any good guitar players around. 'There was only Eric Clapton, who was doing the blues thing and coming through on it. And it was nice, there's no doubt about it: it was gorgeous. So I thought I might be able to do that. I used to have a kind of saying that I would come alongside him in some way.

What do you mean by that?

Well, you know how good he was? The whole thing was that there was heart there; there was generosity there; there was a good person there. So I thought I maybe I could turn people on with a note of sadness. Like Satchmo - you know that kind of feeling. Well, Eric Clapton could do it, and John Mayall could do it, Aretha Franklin, The Staple Singers, all these people I started hearing . J.B.Lenoir is the master of that kind of thing. Eric Clapton did something like that and it might have coincided with something of mine. But the fact that I ended up taking over in a group that he left is not such a big inspiration as it was.

How did that happen?

I can't remember. I either followed up an advert in the paper or I put one in the paper and someone answered it.

What was it like, being in the band after Eric?

Fantastic.

Did you play any of the songs that Eric had played?

Yes, quite a lot of them.

Like what ? Hideaway?

No, I didn't do Hideaway, I did The Stumble. It was similar a Freddie King thing.

Who did you listen to then?

B.B. King, J.B. Lenoir, Robert Johnson, Elmore James. Millions of people! John Mayall used to play endless tapes, all different people; a hundred different people in one night. He had the whole of one wall done with a tape recorder and he used to play all these different people.

Did you enjoy playing in John Mayall's band?

Sometimes.

What times didn't you enjoy it?

Well, I as so kind of behind. I was jumping the gun a bit. I was trying to play as good as Eric Clapton; I had to try because I had to fill his place. In the Yardbirds, when there was a solo break they all went in there and they all came out the other end. And it was nice, the proper thing. But then Eric started taking too many solos - maybe John Mayall pushed him into it, I don't know.

Did he ever push you forward ?

Yes, he tried to. But I was just coming out of work, so I was pretty cold about going to the front if I couldn't handle it.

Then you left John Mayall and formed your own band.

I left John Mayall and I quit. I didn't know what I was going to do. I was floating around. I was going to go to Chicago and see If I could play some nice blues, where everybody plays together.

How did you form Fleetwood Mac?

Mike Vernon was the producer of Blue Horizon Records and he produced John Mayall. Mike Vernon introduced me to Jeremy Spencer.

What were the first songs you wrote with Fleetwood Mac?

Black Magic Woman, which I actually wrote when I was with John Mayall. I was living in John Mayall's house when I started to write that. John Mayall started me writing blues things; he said that I could do what he did sometimes. If you're singing or playing someone else's song and you really, really like it, if you're bubbling over with it, then you should take the first line and write another song. I did that thing, Merry-Go-Round, which is a copy of B.B. King's Sweet Sixteen, which is a horrible song, actually, when I think about it. But it's a very personal thing, it's his personal thing and you can really feel it.

Is that what you did with Black Magic Woman?

Yes, I took something out of All Your Love. It wasn't really like All Your Love in the end, it was more like B. B. King's Help The Poor.

So Black Magic Woman was the first song you wrote?

No, actually the first one I wrote was The Same Way - She feels the same way about me.

What came after Black Magic Woman?

Albatross. I did Need Your love So Bad as a record, but I didn't write that, Little Willie John wrote it.

How did you come to write Albatross?

From a phrase that Eric Clapton played when he was is with John Mayall, one group of notes.

When you started to write your own stuff, were the rest of the group into it?

They weren't into anthing. They were really just doing me a favour by staying with the group.

When you used to bring the songs in, did they like them, or did they not like them? Or wasn't it even relevant?

Mick Fleetwood occasionally said. 'I like that, Boss' - he used to call me Boss, as though it was work we were doing.

Did you enjoy playing live with Fleetwood Mac?

Yes, I did.

Jeremy Spencer was in the group and then Danny Kirwan came. How did that happen?

Mick Fleetwood invited Danny Kirwan in. I had to do the invite, because I had to play this part, but Mick Fleetwood invited him.

And did you get on with Danny, Kirwan, playing guitar with him?

Not really, no. It was like someone who could do it, who could get there through something or other,but I don't know what.

Are you sad when you play blues ?

Well, among musicians it's a noted thing; even orchestras do it. I've seen them do it in groups, they go into the sad feeling. But I don't actually. I used to do it, but I used to make a whole fucking wagon train out of it.

Did you enjoy playing solos?

No, not really, but I had to do it. John Mayall's thing became this, for some reason. So John Mayall wanted to see what I was going to do, what I made of the whole story, how affected I was by this thing. I thought I went through the motions of a second-class Eric Clapton.

What do you feel when you play a guitar solo?

Well, you're earning your living and you're seeing how it goes for you, but you can, as they say, go off in all kinds of dream worlds.

So were you sad?

Not so much sad as just dead; flattened; disappointed. The whole thing was that you couldn't walk anywhere without getting it rammed down your throat.

So you were aware of becoming famous as Peter Green, as your band became successful?

I did become well-known. We had four or five hit records, so I know the audience received us. They knew us from Albatross. Albatross is a kind of symbol for a Number One, or a hit record.

Were you pleased when you had these hit records?

Yes, it couldn't hurt me. It's a strange feeling. You kind of come over all exalted, if you allow it.

How did you feel if you heard a record on the radio?

Oh, I used to perk up.

What about if you hear one today?

Oh, I go through all kinds of performances. I usually take to the shadows and say a note of boredom upon it. Because I don't really think it's any good any more; I think it's old-fashioned.

How did you come to write The Green Manalishi?

I nearly died one night, in my sleep. I don't know if you've ever had the experience; I've had it a couple of times and I'm inclined to think its an experience that people have. But I was lying in bed, I was dreaming, and this little dog jumped up at me and it scared the shit out of me because this dog had died, and had been dead for a long time. It was a stray dog that I brought to the house and just looked after. And it was strange, kind of spooky, like voodoo. And it was a strange little dog. And I was dead and I couldn't move. I couldn't say 'I'm dead' - it wasn't available - so I just fought my way back into my body; I thought 'It must come alive,' and it did. So I woke up and looked round - the room was really black - and I found myself writing the song. It was about money. The fear I got was that the reason this was happening to me was that I had earned too much money and I was separate from all people.

So is that what the song says?

Yes, the Green Manalishi was money they still call it green-backs and things like that, don't they? When you haven't got any money you aren't worth anything to anybody.

In the song it says, 'You come creeping around, making me do things I don't want to do' Is that money?

Yes, it goes off on a mythological definition level, but it starts, 'You're the Green Manalishi with a two-pronged crown / All my trying is up, all you're bringing is down.

How did you get the idea to do Oh Well?

Muddy Waters used to say, 'Oh well, oh well.'

You used acoustic guitar on that, didn't you?

Acoustic and electric guitar.

Was it a Spanish guitar?

No, a Michigan guitar, like a copy of a National.

You eventually went to Chicago with Fleetwood Mac.

Yes. Mike Vernon took us down South Side Chicago and I asked if we could play, see if we could sit in. It was great.

You did some recording there?

Yes, we did some recording, but it was only symbolic of being there. It wasn't much good. I think there was one good thing on it; I think it was one of Jeremy's songs. My stuff wasn't that good.

Didn't you enjoy those sessions in Chess Studios?

It was all right. It was another day, another freedom.

You played with B.B. King, didn't you?

That was sessions. I just turned up there one day - I didn't do much, just played on a couple of tracks. You can't do much with B.B. King because he's there doing the thing himself. He's not going to chop himself in half for me. This is this problem, again, with these impresario musicians; its dangerous to follow them. I was very cautious about this; if I was going to have to be pinned to somebody, I chose J.B. Lenoir because he had slave contacts and you could feel it. He wasn't an entertainer from the entertainment world, that you could have on a cabaret show. He was pure, so I tried to hang in there.

Did you meet Jimi Hendrix?

Yes, I bumped into him.

Did you ever play with him, jam with him?

Yes, twice. Once he took over from me in the Speakeasy; I was jamming with Eric Burdon and some other people. There was an interesting atmosphere around Jimi Hendrix. Very hard to discern briefly.

Did you like his playing?

Not particularly, no.

Why? Was it too loud? Too fast?

Too ahead of itself. If you didn't see that or you weren't prepared for it it could take you by surprise.

Did you ever jam with Eric Clapton?

Yes, a couple of times.

How did that feel, since he was such a hero of yours?

Nice. Oh, it was delicate, because you really are standing there, boy, and its pins and needles. It really is strange. You know, is he going to wipe me out? If I play over the top, is he going to come back afterwards and leave me wiped out? A bit paranoid, those things are, a bit worrying.

Do you still think of Fleetwood Mac as your band?

No, I don't. I pulled out from thinking like that. They did sort of sniff into the air to see if I was cool about what they wanted to do which was forget the fact that I was in the group now that I'd left. Well, I'm not in it any more and I didn't want to be in it, particularly.

Do you still want to play now?

Yes, as long as I'm not pushed or rushed, or forced into it.

So what's the most important thing to you: that things are united and that no one is out front?

The whole thing is that its not important.

It seems to bother you, talking about music.

Yes, I think it's pointless.

Why?

It just is pointless talking about music because music is an opposing factor to talking.

So you think people should just be able to listen to the music and not be interested in you as the maker of the music? But what if they are interested to see what you think, or feel? Do you think it's wrong for me to go up to someone like B.B. King and interview him?

It kind of rushes us off our feet, you know? And it holds us up above you. But maybe I would like to sit and have someone like Otis Spann, Otis Rush, sort of telling me stories about things. Maybe I need that, maybe I've been without that. I wouldn't mind if I had someone sitting around, like Howlinâ'Wolf or Leadbelly.

Why do you still play music?

Because its my living and it keeps me out of work - that's the only reason. I would always play music, though; I would have a guitar - I'm pretty sure about that. I might be much more into music if I hadn't become professional.

Why did becoming professional stop you getting into music?

Because you have to go a certain way; you have to follow a certain line to accomplish something. Although it was called the blues boom and all that kind of thing, to me it was still me learning the guitar and trying something. But what kind of music would I have played if I hadn't gone professional? It would probably have been something different, like The Shadows, Hank Marvin, rock and roll and The Beatles. But music is my career. So perhaps I am one of these characters that, on an island, would be a musician rather than a fisherman. Or, after the fishing was done, I would take to the music where others would sit around in corners, or dance.

People say you don't try as hard any more when you play. Do you think you played better back then than you do now?

Better than what? What do you mean by better?

Well, if I listen to Fleetwood Mac records from the '60s, if I listen to John Mayall, I can hear you playing in a certain way.

I don't think about it I just play. So it comes back to what I was saying earlier on - which was how can you talk about music?

But didnt you speak to B.B.King about his music?

I asked him questions about religion. I wouldn't ask him about music or about his playing, because its sacred ground.

Why ?

It just is, because they just look at you and wonder what you're talking about. What have they spent their whole lives playing music for? Is it for this, is it for that? Why do we have to speak? Why can't we play music? If I was working on a fucking road drill you wouldn't walk up and say, 'Why do you..?'

I might if I wanted to know how it worked.

When you used to take LS.D., did you like it?

You don't like it or dislike it. It's some kind of hellish neutrality, like sand, like gas, effervescent like Andrew's liver Salts; you don't like it or dislike it but that turns you on in some way and L.S.D. is like that. But as you start to review your turn-on, it falls off and you're off the trip and back to normal - afternoon tea and biscuits, that kind of thing.

You didn't take drugs when you were with Fleetwood Mac, did you?

Yes. I used to smoke after gigs, but I was very cautious about smoking before I went on, because it was a bit of a fine line. I was a bit too sensitive. I found I was repeating myself. B.B. King repeats himself a lot, but he does it nicely so it's all right.

When you're playing guitar now, do you enjoy it?

No, because the music is so heavy nowadays that in big groups there's a conscious, 'Is he going to make it?' kind of thing.

Were you trying to reach the people when you were playing in Fleetwood Mac?

No, nothing so flowery as that. Reach the people?

How would you say it, then?

Well, they were there; it was another night. They would be going to work the next day and I could see they were just ordinary people and you just pass another night with them. You've been there before, when you're in the audience and you have to go to school or work, and that's the way you passed that day. On that day you went to that concert.

But to those people you became very special.

Are you telling me that from a first-hand point of view?

Yes I am, because I've been in an audience and I've seen it. When I was 18 years old I heard this guy called Peter Green and you became very special to me. So I'm not talking out of the top of my head, Im talking about personal things of my life. And I think a lot of other people were the same, or else they wouldn't have bought your records, would they?

No. Unless it's just the record they liked. That's the way I always thought it was.

This then is the entire text of my interview with Peter Green which I include here because what I think he says, is so relevant to the whole development of blues music into rock music at that time.

Richard Newman