WILKO Johnson made his name as the enigmatic guitarist in Dr. Feelgood, the band from Canvey Island that are often credited with bridging the gap between blues and punk. His distinctive choppy guitar technique has been cited as an influence by subsequent generations of musicians.

After leaving the band in 1977, Johnson embarked on a solo career. In 2013, he was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. The year after, however, after it was discovered that he had a more treatable form of the disease, and, after a long operation, he announced he was cured.

Here, Johnson talks to EDWIN GILSON about facing death and his new lease of life.

You seem to be playing quite a few places off the beaten track on this tour; was this a conscious decision?

It’s never anything to do with me. I don’t even know where we’re playing, man. We might be going to Wolverhampton or Helsinki. I just do my thing.

It’s a long tour, too. Do you enjoy life on the road these days?

Well, what else can I do? Sit at home twiddling my thumbs? I like being on the road. Ever since my missus died, and apart from a few friends, I lead a semi-solitary existence. It’s good on the road, you’re with all your mates. It’s better than being an ordinary old-age pensioner.

Your most recent album with The Who’s Roger Daltry, a bestseller, was recorded when you thought you had terminal cancer: how did it feel thinking it would be the last record you ever released?

That was why we did that album. Sometimes Roger and I would say ‘we need to do an album together,’ but we never did it. When Roger heard I had terminal cancer, he called me up and said we should do it quickly, while we still can. It was done in that kind of spirit. We did it in eight days - the fastest album I’ve ever made.

When we were doing it, I didn’t know whether I would live to see the album even released. Also, I thought ‘this is going to be the last thing I ever do.’ When you’re dying of a terminal disease you’ve got a lot of things to think about - ‘wow man, I’m gonna die!’ And then, of course, I survived. All of a sudden the album is selling and selling, and ends up at number three in the charts.

They decided they could save my life, so I was lying in the hospital with tubes everywhere and people are coming in and showing me the golden discs that the album had won. I’m looking at it now! All very weird, but fantastic. The album did me and Roger a lot of good. God bless that album.

You spoke about feeling ‘elated’ upon finding out about the cancer: does this reaction seem at all irrational to you now?

I look back at it...well, it is a strange position to suddenly be put in. You think you have two months left to live, and you start go grow into this completely different form of consciousness. You start to look at the world differently.

You start to realise how beautiful the world is, and how you will lose all of that. It turns you onto what is great about life, and in many ways it is a fabulous feeling. You can’t fake that feeling, you can’t pretend to feel it. And now, of course, that’s gone.

How do you adapt to normal life again, after that?

I can’t recapture that feeling, but I hope I’ve learnt some lessons from it. When I look back at it now I think, ‘wow man, that’s so weird, how could I have lived like that? It’s the first thing you think when you wake up: ‘I’m going to die.’

Looking back now, it’s like a dream. The doctors have saved me, and I’m now I’m back on the old grind like everybody else. Blimey, I didn’t get away with it after all!

Do you have any plans to write about all of this in new music?

First of all, it took a long time to recover from this operation. I was laying in hospital for weeks and weeks, and when I got home I was so weak and thin. I had to build the strength up first. Eventually I started playing gigs again, which was kind of weird. I’m getting better and better everyday, and now I’m thinking: ‘if I keep getting better and better, maybe I’ll go back to being a 28 year-old!’

Anyway, so we’re back on the road, and, yes, we are now sitting down talking about making another album quite soon. When I first got home after the diagnosis, when I thought I was dying, I had a sudden burst of writing songs - but when I looked at the lyrics, it was all crap about clocks ticking! Ah man, that ain’t rock and roll. You don’t want to sit there worrying about if you’re going to die, because everybody is going to bloody die.

Since Oil City Confidential was released in 2009, the popular documentary about Dr. Feelgood, have you seen a new, younger audience at your shows?

One thing it did do was remind lots of original fans that they liked Dr. Feelgood, but also people who weren’t even bloody born saw it, too. I’ve been aware of a new interest in the band. It’s pretty nice.

How does it feel to play Dr. Feelgood songs now?

Sometimes songs are based on something, and someone, and when you’re standing on stage playing them, certain songs will have certain associations with you. But a good song should be understandable, or should I say comprehensible, to everyone!

If you sing about your baby leaving you, it doesn’t matter who that specific baby was, it just speaks to anyone in the audience who has had a baby that has left them. We play some songs from the Dr. Feelgood times, and yes, I’m sure some people do have memories involving them.

We saw you in Game of Thrones in 2012; did you enjoy it, and would you do acting again?

Oh man, that was so much fun! In the programme, my character is dumb, he’s had his tongue cut out. So I didn’t have any lines to learn. It was so easy – all I had to do was stand there wearing armour and a sword and glaring at everyone. I’d certainly like to do that again, but I’m not sure about straight acting.

Wilko Johnson

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-On-Sea, Saturday, August 13, 7pm, £22.50, call 01424 229 111