Having been impressed by the first part of Alan Johnson's autobiography "This Boy", that was a choice for my book club, I could not resist placing his music memoir at the top of my Christmas list. I was not disappointed.
Where to start but at the end. Alan Johnson concludes this superb book with a remark that " The evolution of pop music is not a linear progression, or the replacement of one kind of music with another, but an accumulation of all the talent, experimentation and influences that have contributed to it since it's inception. Sometimes it feels more circular than linear". He talks about the new music he listens to now ( none of which I like): "I'm introduced to amazing new artists on a regular basis. But the genesis of all of them, every single one, lies back in the 1950's and 1960's, with Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and of course, The Beatles." And obviously Lonnie Donegan, as he is first artist he mentions on page 9. For me the circular feeling does start with Lonnie and, for the moment, ends with Freya Ridings.
This book has brought back so many memories. Each chapter heading is a year and a song, starting in 1957 ("True Love") and finishing in 1982 ("Allentown"). Partly autobiographical and partly an account of how the music of that year is important to him. For me, there were just so many parallels with my musical history. Not just starting with Lonnie, but that we were both at the same Chuck Berry concert in 1964. Johnson is an amazing writer. At one point there is a forensic examination of family relationships that is truly exceptional.
When the book starts in 1957, Alan is coming on seven years old and living in North Kensington, not far from where we lived in West Kensington (not the posh part) from 1953 to 1959. In 1957 I was twelve. The chapter for 1958 describes the young Alan being dispatched to Kensington Gardens for the day. We may have brushed past each other as this was a regular haunt for us in the school holidays. This was place I heard Paul Anka's Diana being played in the sunshine on a battery operated record player.
The first two artists singled out by the author in 1958 are Lonnie Donegan and Cliff Richard. As for Lonnie, my first musical hero, I have to go back to 1956 when, at eleven years old, I was mesmerised by the sound of Rock Island Line as I was allowed to play my uncle's 78 rpm record time after time. The following story comes from an earlier post in 2007.
"When we lived in London in the 1950's, I can remember my brother and I being put in the care of the guard on the train from St Pancras to Rotherham to visit our grandmother (Nanan) in the summer holidays. She used to meet us at the station and take us to the semi on Wordsworth Drive. Still living at home with her were three uncles, all in their twenties. The youngest was Geoff and he was the one who owned "Rock Island Line" by Lonnie Donegan on a single 78 (rpm). During the day we were allowed to play this and an LP of Bill Haley's "Rock around the Clock". It was the single that I thought was magic, and it was played time and time again. It certainly has influenced my musical taste to this day. When Johnny Walker included requests in his Drivetime show on Radio 2, the four he played of mine started with "Rock Island Line".
The same post starts with an extract from John Peel's autobiography "Margrave of the Marshes": In the words of Chapter Three, John recalls "I allowed my life to be transformed by hearing Lonnie Donegan". And the first part of Chapter Four is a tribute to this event.
Unfortunately, I never saw Lonnie live as did Alan, but my mother did take us to see the "Six-Five Special" movie in 1958 where the highlight was, of course, Lonnie.
As for Cliff, well, I might be embarrassed to relate that the first two singles bought jointly with my brother John, were Living Doll and Travellin' Light in 1959, followed closely by Lonnie's The Battle of New Orleans, by which time we had left London and arrived in Braintree in Essex. We still only possessed a wind-up gramophone that only played 78's.
However, by the following year (1960) I came into possession of a tiny second hand Pye record player that would play LP's. Nothing as good as Alan's Dansette. I had to wait until my paper round in 1962 brought in enough cash ( and a loan) to buy a brand new Bush portable. All those LP's from over the years are stacked in the cupboard under the stairs.
I was sixteen in 1961. The author's title for this year is "Poetry in Motion". This was one of the songs played regularly on Radio Luxembourg, and I was writing down lists of all the hits that were played on the various shows. Jack Jackson's Jukebox was my favourite, playing only the first minute or so of each record so cramming in as many as possible into the time allowed. Each show was promoted by one record label, Jackson's was Decca. In 1958 I was able to see a few of those artists at the Royal Albert Hall - Ricky Nelson, Dell Shannon and Bobby Vee were there.
The author talks about his time at the all boys Sloane Grammar School. Up until 1959, I attended St Clement Danes Grammar School for Boys. I think we played Sloane at football, but I didn't even make the house team. When Johnson mentions the next door Carlyle Grammar School for Girls, it reminded me of our next door Burlington Grammar School for Girls. We only came into contact with them on the trolley bus home to Shepherds Bush and the normal bus back down Holland Road.
In 1962, Johnson describes the release of Love Me Do by The Beatles. Now my brother John played the harmonica which was also the lead instrument on the record. Whether it was this that led him to pronounce that this group would be huge, I don't know. But he was right. At my year's leaving party at Braintree County High School (mixed) we danced to The Beatles first LP Please Please Me, and my favourite I Saw Her Standing There.
In 1963 I was back in London, with my first job at George Wimpey's offices in Hammersmith. My digs were just over the bridge in Barnes, so I could walk to work passing the Hammersmith Odeon on my way. Licensing hours were strange in those days. We would finish our drinks in the pub on Castelnau in Barnes and walk over Hammersmith Bridge to a pub on the other side of river for an extra half hour! Towards the end of 1963, I can vividly remember, like the author, buying the With The Beatles LP ( not from the station arcade store, but one at the top of King Street) the week it was released. I must have worn out the needle on my Bush record player as I played it over and over again.
The Hammersmith Odeon, now the Eventim Appolo. It was here that Alan and I were in the same audience in 1964 for the Chuck Berry concert. And we were both in the circle. I managed to recently buy the programme for that night. As well as that never to be forgotten pre-release performance of House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals, I was also impressed with Carl Perkins, the composer of Blue Suede Shoes. But it was Chuck we had all come to see. It was at the Hammersmith Odeon that I went to see other concerts. In 2010 I posted:
When I left school, I lived in digs in Riverside Gardens in Barnes, just over the bridge from Hammersmith. So my walk to George Wimpey's offices on Hammersmith Grove took me close to the Odeon every day. So I was lucky to be able to see what were the forthcoming attractions. So from 1963 I went to see Tony Bennett, Count Basie, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughn, Duke Ellington and Woody Herman and the Herd. All fantastic big band performances.
These were followed by a blues concert with Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, and in May 1964 by the best rock and roll show ever with Chuck Berry and Carl Perkins. They were supported by new British groups such as The Nashville Teens (Tobacco Road had not yet entered the charts), The Swinging Blue Jeans and The Animals. Wikipedia confirms they played their version of House of the Rising Sun on their tour with Chuck Berry in May 1964 but did not release a recording until a month later. I can still remember what a great job they did with Alan Price on keyboards.
The most disappointing concert I have ever attended was around this time. Louis Armstrong was a particular favourite, having bought his Hot Five and Hot Seven recordings from 1927 and 1928. So Louis to me was a trumpeter, not a singer. But for the whole concert I wait in vain for a trumpet solo. All the other members of his band played solos, but not Louis. Maybe he was not up to it, but he played with the band, and any short burst on his own would have sufficed.
The last of my 60's memories at the Odeon is the premiere of Thunderball in December 1965. On the day of its release, it was decided to show it at 1 minute past midnight. I must admit that I might have nodded off during the final long underwater sequence, but the music will always wake you up. The one show I missed was the Beatles. They played 38 shows over 21 nights in late 64/early 65. I had heard that you couldn't hear the music for the screaming and that put me off. But I really should have gone.
When I think about A Hard Day's Night, the film The Beatles made in 1964, I always remember visiting the man who wrote the screenplay (Alun Owen) the previous year. In the 1950's when we lived on Napier Road in Kensington, Alun Owen lived with his family two doors down from our flat. His wife was very friendly with Mum so when, in 1963, I went to live in London, I was encouraged to call in on the Owens who now lived, I think, in Notting Hill, which I did. If only I had kept in contact, I might have found my way to visiting a set on the movie and seen our heroes close up.
In 1965, I moved into an attic room in Airedale Avenue in Chiswick with a my work friend Bob Owen. We only had the smallest black and white TV. The only thing I remember watching was the Bob Dylan solo concert at the BBC. It must have been good for me to remember it fifty odd years later.
In 1965, I moved into an attic room in Airedale Avenue in Chiswick with a my work friend Bob Owen. We only had the smallest black and white TV. The only thing I remember watching was the Bob Dylan solo concert at the BBC. It must have been good for me to remember it fifty odd years later.
It was in July 1968 that Alan Johnson married Judy at Hammersmith Register Office, mine was the following month at Kingston Register Office. It is about this time that Alan and I go our separate ways as far as geography and music are concerned. Although he is not afraid to mention (as I would) the fact that Gary Glitter records would be played at parties in the early seventies. And we both bought Elton John and Eagles LP's. But I relied on Terry Wogan in that decade as I drove many miles in those early mornings listening to Billy Joel and many more. I think it was Terry who enthused about Nanci Griffith and Mary Chapin Carpenter, and I think I have nearly all their albums, and seen them both live. It is that folk and alt country influenced popular music (not country and western) that I feel has closed the circle with Lonnie. I seem to have turned into a clone of Jackson Brodie, Kate Atkinson's private detective, listening to Laura Cantrell, Patty Griffin, Eliza Gilkyson, Lucinda Williams, Sarah McLachlan and First Aid Kit (the last two also seen live).
There is one poignant piece in this book that is the chapter on 1980 "In My Life". (One of my favourite Beatles' tacks). Johnson remembers where he was when he heard the news about the murder of John Lennon. I was in the car on my way to an industrial building my company had completed and I was meeting the architect. The radio was playing Lennon tracks back to back. The Beatles had always been huge for us both.
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