photo: chris hakkens · cc by-sa 2.0 ↗Phil Lynott formed Thin Lizzy in Dublin in 1969, two years after joining the local band Skid Row, where bandleader Brendan "Brush" Shiels taught him bass and, as important, pushed him toward songwriting. With drummer Brian Downey and guitarist Eric Bell, Lynott built a scrappy blues-rock trio around his real gift: turning Dublin's characters, and his own mixed-race, working-class upbringing, into narrative songs half-sung, half-told. An old Irish folk tune the band had played for beer money became a hurried B-side, "Whiskey in the Jar," and, almost by accident, their breakout hit — eclipsing the harder, more personal song Lynott had actually wanted to lead with. By the time twin guitarists Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson joined in 1974, Lynott's voice, equal parts street poet and rock frontman, had already found its shape.
On Ireland's Late Late Show, Lynott told host Gay Byrne plainly: "Jimi Hendrix proved that a Black fella could front a rock band" — a rare moment of reflection on what Hendrix's example meant to a mixed-race Dublin kid fronting his own group. The debt went beyond symbolism: drummer Brian Downey remembered Lynott writing the band's pivotal 1972 single with Hendrix explicitly in mind, "part-Hendrix, part commercial pop tune" — "Black Boys On The Corner," the first song in which Lynott addressed his own Blackness directly.
listen for"Crosstown Traffic" compresses Hendrix's guitar fireworks into something tight and almost pop: a fuzzed, kazoo-topped riff built for radio rather than a jam. "Black Boys On The Corner" works the same trick — a sinewy, funk-inflected riff wrapped around a hook, the guitar more compact and commercial than Thin Lizzy's usual blues-rock sprawl. It's the hybrid Downey described his bandmate chasing, made audible in under three minutes.
In a 1973 New Musical Express feature asking musicians to name their influences, Lynott ranked one artist above every other he named: "Vocally, Van has influenced me more than anyone else," he said, praising the "phrasing and scat singing" of Astral Weeks — an album he'd loved in Dublin years before realizing its singer was the same one who'd fronted Them. No specific song pairing survives anywhere in the record, only that ranking, but it is the single strongest sentence in Lynott's whole catalogue of stated influences.
listen forAstral Weeks drifts rather than drives: Morrison half-sings, half-recites over an unhurried, loosely swung backing, more concerned with mood than hooks. Thin Lizzy's closing track on 1973's Vagabonds of the Western World, "A Song for While I'm Away," borrows that same unhurried, conversational delivery — Lynott's voice sits low and warm over a slow, tumbling melody, telling rather than belting a homesick, autobiographical lyric. It's the folk-club balladeer inside the rock frontman Lynott would otherwise become.
In the same 1973 NME feature, Lynott ranked one singer's voice second only to Van Morrison's: "After Van Morrison, Rod's rough style of singing has influenced me quite a lot," he said, singling out Stewart's turn on the Jeff Beck Group's Beck-Ola. The debt later attached itself to one specific song: drummer Brian Downey recalled that for 1973's "Randolph's Tango," "Phil loved Rod Stewart... he fancied doing something along the lines of Maggie May," convinced it would be an automatic hit. It flopped instead, but the ambition was plain.
listen for"Maggie May" rides a loose, campfire-strum arrangement under Stewart's rasping, conversational half-sung delivery — a hit built on charm rather than polish. "Randolph's Tango" reaches for that same loose storytelling but dresses it in timbales and Spanish guitar, Lynott crooning through a barroom vignette in a rough, unhurried voice modeled on Stewart's. It's proof Lynott was chasing a feeling rather than a formula, and, this time, didn't catch the same luck.