From Child Star to Session Legend
Ronnie Johnson’s journey from a six-year-old discovered by Richard Lester in a Surrey classroom to becoming one of Britain’s most respected guitarists reads like a Hollywood biopic. The former child actor, who graced screens in classics like A Hard Day’s Night and The Knack, swapped spotlight for shadow when he picked up his beloved Fender Stratocaster in his teens.
Settling into London’s legendary Speakeasy Club scene, Johnson quickly found himself in the company of giants – sharing stages and studio time with everyone from the Rolling Stones to Bob Marley. Over five decades, he’s built a CV that most musicians could only dream of, serving as musical director for Van Morrison while collaborating with an all-star roster including Sting, Tom Jones, and Leo Sayer.
The Man Behind the Maestro
Those expecting Van Morrison to be the intimidating figure of legend might be surprised by Johnson’s description. “He’s demanding, absolutely,” Johnson laughs, referencing Morrison’s own song title, “but honestly, he’s a darling sweet man.” The secret to their enduring partnership? According to Morrison himself, Johnson wasn’t hired for his musicianship – but because he makes the notoriously grumpy star laugh.
Johnson’s quick wit, delivered in a refreshingly unpolished “Sarf London” accent, has occasionally landed him in trouble. During sessions with Joe Cocker, his attempt to lift the singer’s spirits with working-class humour earned a stern rebuke from Cocker’s manager: “Cut the jokes – you’re employed to play guitar, not make him laugh.”
Dez Ezé: Father and Son Forge New Ground
Now 73, Johnson is stepping from behind Morrison’s piano to front his own project with son Patrick. Their band, Dez Ezé (inspired by John Cooper Clarke’s reading of an obscure 19th-century novel), represents a unique father-son musical conversation. The pair trade licks and harmonies with an almost telepathic connection, their dual guitars weaving intricate patterns that speak louder than words.
“There’s the usual father-son tensions,” Johnson admits with characteristic humour. “Going to a gig together, he’d still be in his dressing gown. So we travel separately now.” Despite the generational friction, their collaboration yields remarkable results – an instrumental album that proves melody doesn’t need vocals to move the soul.
Instrumental Innovation
Dez Ezé’s self-titled debut eschews traditional song structures for something more experimental, drawing comparisons to Ry Cooder and Steely Dan while carving out their own niche. The quartet – completed by bassist Dylan Bond and drummer Neil Burton – recorded live over just three days at The Wool Hall studio, the same venue where Johnson worked on Morrison’s Days Like This thirty years ago.
Johnson’s refusal to take himself too seriously belies a deep musical intelligence. When explaining his use of suspended chords – those “question chords” beloved by Joni Mitchell – he casually notes their similarity to impressionist composers Ravel and Debussy. “We’re painting with music,” he explains, suggesting their approach appeals to both genders precisely because it avoids the “sausage fest” mentality of much contemporary rock.
As Dez Ezé prepares for their debut performance at Windsor’s Old Court on September 26th, Johnson reflects on a career spent elevating others. “I often joke the only reason you need a singer is if the music isn’t good enough,” he says. With this album, father and son prove that sometimes the most profound statements come not from words, but from the space between the notes.
Why it Matters
In an era where veteran musicians often rest on past glories, Ronnie Johnson’s emergence with Dez Ezé represents something genuinely fresh. His decision to step into the spotlight after decades in the wings speaks to a broader trend of seasoned artists refusing to be defined by their most famous collaborations. More importantly, the father-son dynamic adds emotional depth to what could have been merely technical virtuosity – proving that musical innovation isn’t just about new sounds, but new relationships. As the music industry continues grappling with questions about legacy and relevance, Johnson’s story offers a compelling model: honour your past while fearlessly embracing the future.
