Joe Stevens, a renowned rock photographer who chronicled the electric era of musical rebellion, passed away on August 26 in Concord, N.H., at the age of 87. He had famously transitioned from a demanding life as a road manager for bands like the Byrds and the Lovin’ Spoonful to capture iconic moments, from the historic Woodstock festival to the raw energy of the Sex Pistols and beyond.
His passing, which occurred in a skilled nursing facility, was confirmed by his friend and fellow photojournalist, Jane Tyska, who had been his devoted caretaker.
Known for his subtle and unassuming demeanor, the New York-native Mr. Stevens effortlessly navigated the exclusive world of rock music. His ability to blend in, often going unnoticed, allowed him to immortalize candid, unguarded moments of music’s biggest stars—whether backstage, in private hotel rooms, or amidst the hazy atmosphere of crowded nightclubs.
Chris Salewicz, a respected rock journalist and author, once remarked in an email: ‘At any post-gig party or industry event, you’d suddenly notice Joe, quietly positioned behind a pillar, relentlessly capturing everything.’
During the 1970s, after relocating to London, Mr. Stevens was a staff photographer for the influential British music publication, New Musical Express, where Salewicz also worked alongside him.
In a 2007 interview with Pitchfork, Stevens reflected on his unique perspective: ‘Stardom never fazed me. I’d already been exposed to all the big names, and I quickly realized they were just like anyone else – nothing extraordinary. They simply possessed an incredible talent when performing or recording. The rest of the time, they were as unremarkable as the rest of us.’
Stevens had a knack for demystifying celebrity. His lens captured Paul McCartney, exhausted, finding solace in Linda McCartney’s arms during a 1972 pot bust in Sweden. Another shot showed Rod Stewart, looking perfectly composed for the stage, as he casually emerged from a New York nightclub restroom.
Among his extensive collection are unforgettable images: John Lennon and Yoko Ono appearing as unassuming street protestors at a 1971 London demonstration, and his close friend David Bowie, visibly worn out, engaging in conversation with a railway porter in Paris in 1973 following a taxing boat and train journey from Japan – Bowie famously disliked flying.
As punk rock exploded in London during the mid-1970s, Stevens emerged as a pivotal chronicler of the burgeoning movement. His initial introduction to this rebellious new sound came via Malcolm McLaren, manager of the Sex Pistols, whom Stevens knew primarily as the co-owner of a daring fetish wear boutique named Sex, alongside designer Vivienne Westwood.
He recounted in a 2014 interview with Seacoast Online: ‘One day, McLaren burst into my apartment, clutching flyers that announced ‘Sex Pistols — Live at Logan’s Loft.’ Stevens candidly admitted, ‘I had no idea it was a band. I genuinely thought it might be a vibrator demonstration, or something akin to a Tupperware party!’
Before long, Stevens was an ingrained presence within the punk scene. In 1978, he accompanied the Sex Pistols on their sole American tour during their peak—a notoriously brief and chaotic series of shows predominantly held in Southern honky-tonk bars.
Shortly thereafter, he returned to New York, where his lens turned to punk trailblazers like the Ramones and Blondie, as well as many others who frequented CBGB, the iconic Bowery club that became punk’s ground zero. For Stevens, punk offered a refreshing and visually compelling contrast to the tired glam-rock clichés of the early 1970s. He admitted, ‘I had grown tired of the platform shoes and overly choreographed stage performances.’
Born Joseph Stevens Grady on July 25, 1938, in the Bronx, his father, Joseph Clifford Grady, was an art appraiser and boxing coach, and his mother was Anne (McPhilips) Grady. Following his parents’ divorce when he was five, he was raised mainly by his mother in Queens.
Reflecting on his upbringing, he shared with Pitchfork, ‘We lived in basements. My mother, a waitress, supported us solely on her tips.’
In his early twenties, he was drawn to Greenwich Village. He eventually managed The Playhouse, a coffeehouse where he rubbed shoulders with local folk luminaries such as Phil Ochs, Fred Neil, and John Sebastian. Sebastian would later enlist Stevens to manage road duties, from lugging amplifiers to handling finances, for his band, The Lovin’ Spoonful.
During an extended period in Los Angeles, Stevens forged connections with bands like The Byrds, eventually becoming their road manager. He also performed this role for the acclaimed South African singer and activist, Miriam Makeba.
On tour, Stevens often found himself envying his occasional roommate, photographer Henry Diltz, who simply dropped off his film at day’s end and headed to the nearest bar.
Stevens recalled to Pitchfork, ‘I thought, ‘Wow, that’s a great job!’ I was burdened with all the worries: arrests, relationship dramas, illnesses. I had to handle all of it. Meanwhile, he’d just casually remark, ‘Hope there are some attractive women downstairs!”
Stevens had been pursuing photography as a hobby since his days at The Playhouse. In the summer of 1969, equipped with three Leica cameras, he embarked on a journey to Woodstock.
At Woodstock, he serendipitously encountered Jim Marshall, a leading rock photographer he knew from his cafe days. Stevens convinced Marshall to help him secure a press pass, a moment he later described in a 2012 video interview as life-changing: ‘That gave me my life. I’ve been doing photography ever since.’
Initially, Stevens followed a more traditional photojournalistic path. He took a staff position at The East Village Other, a prominent underground newspaper, where he covered significant events such as the Chicago Seven trial, Black Panther rallies, and women’s rights marches.
After relocating to England, he joined International Times, another alternative newspaper. In 1971, while documenting the sectarian conflict known as the Troubles in Northern Ireland, he was arrested and charged with arson after being apprehended while escaping the scene of a firebombing.
Although acquitted after a three-month trial, Stevens decided that securing backstage passes was far more appealing than evading gunfire. This realization led him to fully embrace rock photography, a field in which he would excel throughout the 1980s.
By the close of the 1980s, Stevens had tired of the relentless pace of the rock world. He chose a more tranquil existence in Portsmouth, N.H., where he worked as a bartender, indulged in sailing, and occasionally contributed photographs to local newspapers.
Stevens was married and divorced twice, and he is survived by no immediate family.
Despite spending decades immersed in the ever-evolving landscape of rock music, Stevens maintained a distinctive detachment.
He stated, ‘I wasn’t a punk, a beatnik, a hippie, or a rock ’n’ roller—none of that. Yet, I photographed all those scenes.’
“I wasn’t a follower. I was a photographer,” he firmly declared.
