World-class photographer Henry Diltz, to employ a lyric from his friend and Southern California neighbor Joni Mitchell, has looked at life from both sides now. Being a former musician himself, in the '60s group the Modern Folk Quartet, he has numerous friends in the California musical community, which has provided him with a varied pool of camera-ready subjects. In this photo essay, Diltz reveals, in his own words, the process behind his iconic shots of many of rock's greatest names and faces, as well as his uncommon access to them, which he has likened to being "a little kid who sneaked under the circus tent."

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Ray Charles, Los Angeles, 1980: This started with just a random call from a video company that was going to interview him at his studio in L.A. He had designed this whole building. He knew every inch of it. It was sort of like he could see in there, because he knew every room and step, and when you saw him sit at the board, his fingers were just constantly touching the knobs and the buttons and he just knew where everything was. We went out into the studio part of it and he just sat at the piano playing. I guess they were setting up the lights for this shot, 'cause I couldn't click while they were filming. Being a photographer on a documentary crew, you pretty much have to shoot pretty quickly just before and just after the camera rolls.



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Monterey, Calif., 1967: This is at Monterey Pop, and I was the official photographer. There were lots of photographers there, but I was one of the guys who got to stand onstage. I had never met Simon and Garfunkel. The thing about Monterey, it was the first big music festival and so a lot of people first got to see their heroes live here. It was electrifying to see just two guys and one guitar sitting out there in the lights at the end of the stage making this famous music, and I was just standing there over in the wings, you know, digging it, electrified like everybody else.



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San Diego, 1969: This was a CSNY concert at Balboa Stadium, and it was before they went off on the road. And there was only a stage set up at one end of the field, and there was no dressing room or no backstage or no curtain. So right before the concert, when the people were coming in, Neil was sitting at the piano changing the strings on his Gretsch White Falcon guitar, and I kind of just sat down on the stage, on the ground at his feet, and just took a whole roll. As he did that, he wasn't really looking at me, he was looking over me. That's one of the ways I try to be invisible. It's quite a candid moment with Neil -- you know, his mind is off somewhere.



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Los Angeles, 1969: A lot of the really iconic album covers I did in the late '60s and early '70s were done with a partner named Gary Burden. He was a graphic designer. So one day the Doors called Gary and me to talk to us about doing their cover and we said, "Well, do you have a title?" They said, "No, not really." We said, "Do you have any idea?" And just then, one of them said, "The other day I was driving through downtown L.A. and I saw this hotel that said 'Morrison Hotel.'"

We all trooped into the lobby, there was nobody there [but this] young kid behind the desk. I said, "We're just gonna take a couple of pictures. We'll just be a few minutes." He said, "Well, no you can't." I thought, "Well, I'll have them stand in front of the window." And just then, standing in front of the window looking through ... you see that light right under "-son"? That's the elevator numbers, and as the guy went in the little tiny elevator and pushed the button and disappeared, I just thought, "Whoa, quick, you guys -- run in there and just get behind the window and we'll just do this thing really quick." We took one roll of film and got out of there, and the guy never even knew we did it [laughs]!


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Los Angeles, 1971: Rolling Stone called me one day in Hollywood and asked if I would go to Motown Records and take photos of the Jackson 5, who were there for the afternoon answering fan mail. I think they told me to kind of concentrate on Michael, who was the lead singer. Now I photographed the Jackson 5 quite a bit in those days, and he was so young and he had just the voice of an angel, unbelievably pure, beautiful voice. And a very nice little boy, very quiet, very polite. I just said, "Hey, Michael, look this way for a minute," and that was it. I remember at one point he was playing with a lighter, he was kind of fascinated by the flame, you know, like young boys are.



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London, 1975: This was backstage at Wembley Stadium, when the Eagles and the Beach Boys were playing. He was backstage, standing around, and I had a telephoto lens -- I didn't know him at all, and I took this picture. The next picture I took, he had raised a Heineken bottle up, and he noticed me right while he was taking a swig and gave me this sort of stink-eye look. "Who the hell are you?" -- you know. So I put my telephoto lens on and I sneaked a couple of portraits and got caught on the second one. He was looking at me, but this is the one before he noticed me [laughs]. I've never talked to him, don't know him at all.



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Minneapolis, 1970: I flew out just for this one concert, and in the afternoon I was up in David Crosby's room, and David was sitting on his bed talking on the phone. And suddenly the door opens a crack. Graham Nash leans in and says, "Hey, David, some fan made this for you," and tosses this little pillow American flag gun to him. Without a beat going by, Crosby just picked it up, held it up to his head and I just went click, click, click and the third click he brought the joint up. It all took 10 seconds. You might think we rented a studio, convinced him to take his shirt off and had a prop gun made, but it wasn't that way at all. This is photojournalism.



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Bethel, N.Y., 1969: Everything I saw her sing, it was nothing held back. This was at Woodstock, and being the official photographer, I had an all-access pass, and I was allowed to be up onstage as all this went on. In fact, there was a little catwalk built just under the lip of the stage, which was put there for the film crew, and I got myself on that little catwalk by virtue of the fact that I had this special pass. And all throughout the concert, the film crew kept trying to kick me off. I was literally feet in front of her while she was singing -- the absolutely best seat in the entire house of 400,000 people.



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1979: This is at an airport somewhere in the Midwest, and I was on the road with the New Barbarians. Ron Wood had done a solo album for Columbia Records, and they wanted him to tour to promote the record, so he had put together a group, which included Keith Richards -- so they had a great, big passenger airplane fitted with couches and bars and stuff. What would happen is the big plane would land at the airport, there would be six or eight limos waiting there on the field, they'd pull up to the bottom of the steps, everybody would just saunter down the steps and find their limo. He's all set to jump in the limo, but he's just waiting for Ron to appear, and he's doing a Dr. Evil thing there with his finger.



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Los Angeles, 1971: This is at, I always say this is at her house in Laurel Canyon, which is a very, very, very fine house, you know, like in the song ['Our House,' by Crosby Stills & Nash]. She was a neighbor of mine, and every time I drove to Lookout Mountain Avenue I drove by her house. This one particular day, I had gone there to shoot publicity photos and she kind of went and leaned in the window to talk to my partner Gary, and I just started shooting pictures. When I took all these pictures it was just a simple thing -- just me and the camera, I mean there's no crew, there's no reflectors, there's no lights, just kind of a simple everyday thing.



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Palm Springs, Calif., 1968: Gary Burden had contrived this idea that we would take a limo down to Palm Springs and get there right at dawn and take pictures on the sand dunes as the sun was coming up. We left late at night, and Gary had this old Persian rug and I brought that lute. Me and Gary had gotten this costume at a movie costume place, and we stopped at the supermarket and got the scallions and grapes and peaches and pineapple. We trooped out onto the sand dunes and set this up, and by 8 o'clock in the morning we'd shot for about a half an hour. It was so hot, it was already approaching 100 degrees and her makeup was melting down her face. It's a beauty, yeah -- I call it the Cass Cleopatra shot. And you can see the amused look on her face.



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Rome, N.Y., 1999: This is Woodstock '99, and George Clinton, the godfather of funk, is a guy that I've shot a number of times. One of them he had a black and yellow plaid suit on, and the second one he wore his hair in hundreds of rainbow braids. And he always looks amazing. And then I did do a funk concert in L.A. one time that he was on there with the Funkmasters. So I sort of knew who this guy was when he was on stage at Woodstock, and this time he came out sort of looking like Dr. John, you know, kinda more juju. His presence fills the room.



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Los Angeles, 1971: This was in a rehearsal for the Mothers of Invention -- not the first group but the second incarnation. It was a good rehearsal, because it was like a real band, or more like an orchestra; he was definitely the conductor. It wasn't like a lot of groups that get together and just kind of jam and screw around. These guys were really organized and he was definitely in charge, but he was very good-natured and gentlemanly. A very nice guy.



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San Francisco, 1973: My friend Chip Monck had been hired to do the lighting and staging for the Columbia Records convention at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. He actually hired me to take pictures as they assembled the lighting structures and the big speakers, and in the end, of course, was the concert. It was quite a succession of really neat acts, and then suddenly this little punky kid comes out in a wifebeater and a scraggly beard and sunglasses, and I thought, "Who in the hell is that?" Well, I was documenting, so I had to take a few shots of each group, but I only took three or four pictures of him, because I didn't know and I didn't care who he was -- he looked like a punk to me. Of course, years later I said, "Oh, my God, that was Bruce Springsteen!" Good lord, if I could relive that day I think I probably would take a couple of rolls instead of a couple of shots [laughs].



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Los Angeles, 1967: He had just played at the Monterey Pop Festival, which was produced by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas. So they had nabbed him to open their show at the Hollywood Bowl, which was soon after Monterey. So being good friends with the Mamas and Papas, I was in the green room right offstage -- the Mamas and Papas and Jimi and a couple other people and I pretty much filled the room up. I was in there for about a half an hour listening to them warm up, just taking pictures, you know, and then Jimi went out to open the show and we all kind of filed out into the wings. So this was taken from the wings at the Hollywood Bowl. It's looking across the stage sideways, so you can see that bass cord going across his leg. We had quite a vantage point to watch him play.



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