Alan Edwards founded the Outside Organisation, a music PR firm, and has handled the publicity for everyone from David Bowie, Bon Jovi, the Who and the Sex Pistols to the Spice Girls. He also does the PR for the annual Hyde Park British Summer Time and All Points East festivals and this month’s Teenage Cancer Trust concerts at the Royal Albert Hall, which end on Sunday with the Who. Edwards, a lifelong Arsenal fan, has four grown-up daughters: Josey, Ruby, Lola and Bryony. He lives in Belsize Park, London, with his partner, Chandrima Biswas, an obstetrician. She has two children.
How much is in your wallet?
Just over £100. I always carry a bit of cash just in case a cabbie doesn’t take cards.
What credit cards do you use?
I’ve got an American Express card for emergencies and a Coutts debit card for day-to-day payments. Card payments have made things much easier work-wise because in the old days music artists would often write me a cheque that bounced. The PR business was very Wild West back in the day.
Are you a saver or a spender?
It’s a bit of score draw — I do save but I also spend. My last big-ticket expense was flying out to LA with my partner to see one of my daughters, her husband and four children. Hotel rates seem to have doubled since I was last there a few years ago. The trip ended up costing close to £10,000.
Do you own a property?
I own a two-bedroom mansion block flat in St John’s Wood, which I bought for a few hundred thousand pounds some years ago, and now rent out. I live with my long-term partner, Chandrima, and her two children in the house she owns in north London. I bought my first property, a flat in Muswell Hill, for a five-figure sum in the early 1980s, if I recall correctly. I then bought a house in the same area, where I lived with my partner then and our four children, until we went our separate ways. I’ve never been married — I’m an accidental rock’n’roller in that respect.
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Are you better off than your parents?
Yes and no. I’m sure that a lot more money has passed through my hands than theirs, but everything is relative, isn’t it? I was adopted at 18 months; my adoptive father, Harrington, was a solicitor and my adoptive mother, Elizabeth, was a primary school teacher. I had a perfectly normal middle-class upbringing in Worthing with my brother and sister, who were also adopted. We never went short of food and clothes but we never went on foreign holidays either.
In my thirties I went to the Catholic adoption society to learn more about my birth mother and it turned out she had moved to England as a penniless Irish girl of 17. I spoke to her once on the phone, but she was admitted to hospital after having a fall during the pandemic and never came out, and I never got to meet her.
How much did you earn last year?
More than £100,000 but under £200,000.
What was your first job?
One of my first “jobs” was reviewing gigs for the music paper Sounds for £5 a story. So when Keith Altham, the doyen of music PRs — he was the one who told Hendrix to set fire to his guitar — offered me a job at his PR agency near Victoria station, I jumped at the chance of a steady income. On my first day there the Who’s Keith Moon walked in and after learning that Altham was out, upended a desk, sending papers and cups flying. “Tell Keith I called, old chap,” he said before leaving.
When did you first feel wealthy?
I’ve never felt wealthy because the PR business is very much a cashflow business — money’s coming in and going out all the time. The only time I’ve ever really felt flush was when I was co-managing the Cult and Big Country in the 1980s and would get a lump sum advance from the record company, so for a while my bank balance would look extraordinarily healthy. Managing the Cult was an experience. On one occasion they repainted their Holiday Inn suite in St John’s Wood and got banned from the hotel chain for life.
Have you ever worried about making ends meet?
Yes, in my early years as a solo music PR I rented a Dickensian-style office near the Roxy, a legendary punk venue in London. Unbeknown to me, it turned out to be a room in a squat and the heating had been turned off. I just about avoided getting frostbite. There have been other times when I’ve very nearly had to go cap in hand to the bank for a loan too.
What has been your most lucrative work?
Doing the PR for Lenny Kravitz back in his 1990s heyday was pretty profitable. Some clients want to see you all the time; Lenny only asked to meet me twice in seven years, yet it turned out to be a very fruitful relationship. I was honoured to represent David Bowie for 40-odd years. I can’t believe he’s been gone nearly ten years — I still miss him.
Do you invest in shares?
Not really.
What’s best for retirement — property or pension?
I’m a great believer in pensions, and started paying into a private pension on the advice of my then-accountant in my twenties. But I’m not planning on retiring any time soon. I’ll probably carry on working into my seventies, as long as I’m compos mentis, like those old blues singers.
What has been your best business decision?
Setting up my own music PR firm in 1976 was a big moment. A lot of young punk bands like Generation X and the Stranglers came to me and for a while I was known as “the punk PR”. Doing the Spice Girls’ publicity in the 1990s was another turning point. “What kind of shoes are you wearing?” one of the girls asked at our first meeting. “Hush Puppies,” I replied, and I got the account. That changed the entire trajectory of my career because it was a Beatles-like moment.
And your best investment?
Buying an Arsenal share for about £350 in the 1990s, in the days when they were privately traded. Fast-forward to when the American billionaire Stan Kroenke and his family were in full control of the club and they did a compulsory share purchase — I got around £35,000 for that one share, a stunning return.
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What about your worst investment?
I helped pay for the rehearsals, photo shoots and recording sessions for a girl band in the Noughties who I thought had real potential, but the costs soon mounted up and after spending around £15,000 it dawned on me that it was never going to happen for them.
What’s your money weakness?
I find it hard to walk past an Agnès b or Paul Smith store and not buy a £50-£60 designer T-shirt or a jacket costing about £200. Some days I have to take a lunchtime walk in the park to avoid temptation. My Arsenal season ticket costs a fair few quid too but is worth every penny.
What’s been your most extravagant purchase?
I once put my hand up at a charity sports dinner and before I knew it I’d bid £20,000, crazy money, for a game of tennis with Tony Blair, a year or two after he’d stepped down as PM. He kept postponing the match due to work, so eventually invited me around to have a cup of tea at his house in Connaught Square instead — he was very friendly but that must be the most expensive cup of tea in history.
What’s your financial priority in the years ahead?
To consolidate things on the business front, and have enough money to give my grandchildren the occasional treat.
What if you won the lottery?
I actually buy a lottery ticket every week and, being a voracious reader, if I did win big I’d buy a few signed first editions, perhaps an Ian Fleming or two. I’d also donate a chunk of money to the Teenage Cancer Trust — I’ve seen at first hand what a difference it has made to the lives of kids with the disease. As it is, the most I’ve won on the lottery is £6.40.
What is the most important lesson you’ve learnt about money?
To not let it change you. I’ve seen too many people who end up rich talking about the price of a painting rather than the artistry involved.
I Was There: Dispatches from a Life in Rock and Roll (Simon & Schuster £10.99) is out in paperback. Buy from timesbookshop.co.uk. Discount for Times+ members
