Joe Stevens, a renowned rock photographer celebrated for documenting the raw, intimate moments of an era defined by amplified rebellion, has passed away at the age of 87 in Concord, N.H. His death on August 26 was confirmed by his caretaker and fellow photojournalist, Jane Tyska.
Stevens initially embarked on a demanding career as a road manager for prominent bands like the Byrds and the Lovin’ Spoonful. However, he eventually grew tired of the relentless pace and shifted his focus to photography. This career change led him to become an indispensable fixture in the elite rock circles, where his wry, low-key demeanor allowed him to blend in and capture unguarded portraits of stars, whether backstage, in hotel rooms, or within the smoky confines of nightclubs.
Chris Salewicz, a notable rock journalist, recalled, “At some post-gig party or music business reception, you would suddenly realize that Joe had been tucked away behind a pillar for most of the occasion, steadfastly snapping away.” Stevens dedicated much of the 1970s as a staff photographer for the influential British music publication, New Musical Express, after relocating to London.
He famously broke the typical aura of stardom, delivering candid shots. For instance, an iconic image shows Joe Stevens, left, with Stiv Bators of the punk band the Dead Boys at CBGB in New York in 1977, illustrating Stevens’s ability to capture musicians in their element. Other unforgettable moments include Paul McCartney burying his head wearily in his wife Linda’s arms during a 1972 pot bust in Sweden, a testament to Stevens’s ability to capture human vulnerability amidst fame. Another striking image showed Rod Stewart appearing ready for the stage while simply leaving a men’s room in a New York nightclub. His portfolio also includes a poignant image of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, hand-in-hand, embodying humble street protesters during a 1971 demonstration in London. A particularly telling photograph captured a visibly exhausted David Bowie conversing with a railway porter in Paris in 1973, following an arduous journey from Japan (Bowie famously avoided flying).
Stevens once explained his approach in a 2007 interview with Pitchfork: “I wasn’t intimidated by stardom. I’d already been around all the big shots. And I saw that they were just like you and I, no big deal. They just happened to be unbelievable sometimes when they get onstage or make a record. The rest of the time, boring, like the rest of us.”
When punk rock exploded in London in the mid-1970s, Stevens was at the forefront, documenting its raw energy. His introduction to the scene came through Malcolm McLaren, the Sex Pistols’ manager, whom he initially knew as the co-owner of a fetish wear shop with Vivienne Westwood. He vividly recounted a moment when McLaren burst into his apartment with flyers for the “Sex Pistols — Live at Logan’s Loft.” Stevens, initially thinking it might be a “vibrator show,” quickly realized it was a band.
He soon became deeply entrenched in punk culture, joining the Sex Pistols on their chaotic 1978 American tour, which mainly consisted of performances in southern honky-tonk bars. A memorable photo from this period captures Sid Vicious, Steve Jones, Paul Cook, and Johnny Rotten huddled together in what looks like a backstage area in Dallas.
After returning to New York, Stevens continued his work, photographing icons like the Ramones and Blondie in the vibrant orbit of CBGB. He found punk’s visual style a refreshing departure from the glam-rock clichés of the early ’70s. “I was bored with the platform shoes and choreographed shows,” he stated.
Joseph Stevens Grady was born on July 25, 1938, in the Bronx. Raised by his waitress mother in Queens after his parents divorced when he was five, he often recalled living in “basements” and being supported by her “tips.” In his early twenties, he found his way to Greenwich Village, managing a coffeehouse called the Playhouse, where he interacted with folk luminaries such as Phil Ochs, Fred Neil, and John Sebastian. It was Sebastian who later enlisted him as a road manager for his band, the Lovin’ Spoonful.
His road management career also took him to Los Angeles, where he worked with bands like the Byrds and for South African singer and activist, Miriam Makeba. During these tours, he developed an appreciation for the photographer’s role, observing how his occasional roommate, Henry Diltz, would simply drop off his film at the end of the day and head to the bar. Stevens mused, “I had all the headaches, people getting busted, girlfriends, diseases. I had to worry about all that stuff. And he’d just sort of say, ‘I hope there’s some nice girls downstairs.’”
Stevens’s hobby of photographing musicians dated back to his Playhouse days. In the summer of 1969, equipped with three Leica cameras, he went to Woodstock. There, a chance encounter with renowned rock photographer Jim Marshall, whom he knew from his café, secured him a press pass. “That gave me my life,” Stevens stated in a 2012 video interview. “I’ve been doing photography ever since.”
He initially pursued photojournalism, working for underground newspapers like The East Village Other, covering events such as the Chicago Seven trial, Black Panther rallies, and women’s rights marches. Later, in England, he contributed to International Times. His experiences in photojournalism were not without peril; in 1971, while covering “the Troubles” in Northern Ireland, he was arrested on arson charges after being caught fleeing a firebombing scene. He was acquitted after a three-month trial, a harrowing experience that solidified his preference for “cadging backstage passes” over “dodging bullets.” This led him fully into music photography, where he excelled throughout the 1980s.
By the late 1980s, the demands of the rock world again began to weigh on him. He sought a quieter life in Portsmouth, N.H., where he is depicted in a photo from his later years, wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a Panama hat, smiling at the camera. He worked as a bartender, enjoyed sailing, and occasionally took photos for local newspapers. He was married and divorced twice and leaves no immediate survivors.
Despite his deep involvement in multiple music scenes, Stevens maintained a unique detachment. He reflected, “I wasn’t a punk myself. I wasn’t a beatnik, I wasn’t a hippie, a rock ’n’ roller — none of that. But I shot all those scenes. I wasn’t a follower. I was a photographer.” This sentiment is underscored by a color photo of him in a knitted cap and black jacket, with a full white beard and glasses, looking benignly at the camera, a true artist in his own right.