The Epiphone Texan Story - A Guitar Fit For A Beatle -

by Stuart Penney

In the hierarchy of American guitar makers, the Epiphone company was once right up there with Gibson, Fender and Gretsch. And in the world of vintage acoustics only Martin and Gibson were more important.

I’ve had a fascination, bordering on obsession, with Epiphone guitars for seven decades. It all started in August 1965 when I saw Paul McCartney playing his blonde Texan acoustic on the TV variety show Blackpool Night Out.

On the bill with the Fab Four that night were the easy listening duo Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson, choreographer Lionel Blair, plus comedians Mike and Bernie Winters. I won’t say the show was painfully outdated, but six years earlier Pearl and Teddy had represented the UK at the 1959 Eurovision Song Contest, where they were runners up with the execrable “Sing, Little Birdie.” In case anyone was wondering (and I’m sure you were), the Netherlands romped home winners at Eurovision 1959 with the song "Een beetje" (“A Little”), performed by Teddy Scholten. You’re welcome.

As for Mike and Bernie Winters there’s a tremendous anecdote about the comedy double act which may or may not be apocryphal. It’s said they were playing the famously tough Glasgow Empire during their formative years on the comedy circuit. Mike came out on stage first and after struggling to make the punters laugh for some minutes, he was joined by brother Bernie. “Aw fer fuck’s sake,” heckled one Scot from high up in the gods, “there’s TWO of ‘em!” It’s one of those stories which really should be true. But I digress.

In Blackpool, the Beatles thoroughly undermined proceedings with their irreverent, self-deprecating humour and spoof announcements - “Thank you Ringo” deadpanned Lennon as McCartney brought his solo performance of “Yesterday” to a close, “that was wonderful.”

But it was Macca’s guitar which captivated me just as much as his musical prowess on the night. The one thing even the most casual fan knows about Epiphone guitars is they were used extensively by the Beatles, both onstage and in the studio. John, Paul and George each played Epiphone Casino thinline hollow body electrics, while McCartney’s 1964 Texan was used to record the aforementioned “Yesterday,” possibly the most covered song in pop history, plus later acoustic tracks such as “Calico Skies" and "Jenny Wren".

As we know, Macca is left-handed, so his right-handed Texan was flipped over, re-strung and played upside-down. That meant the pickguard, complete with its “e” epsilon, sat on the top bout of the guitar, unused and serving little purpose (see the above picture). Back then lefties weren’t nearly as well served in the guitar world as they are today - Jimi Hendrix is another notable example of the makeshift right-to-left method.

Until 1969 Epiphones were made in America, which meant they were hugely expensive in the UK and often beyond the reach of the average British amateur strummer. All that would change when, in the face of cheaper guitars coming in from Japan and the far east, the Epiphone company was moved offshore to become a budget brand.

We need a brief history lesson at this point. Epiphone is one of the oldest US guitar brands still in existence. The company was founded in 1872 in Smyrna, (then in Greece but now part of Turkey) by Anastasios Stathopoulos, who migrated to New York City at the start of the 20^th century. When Anastasios died in 1915 his son Epaminondas took over and re-named the company “Epiphone,” a combination of his own nickname “Epi” and the suffix “phone” (from the Greek phon, meaning “voice”). By the late 1920s the company had begun making guitars.

For 30 years Epiphone was a highly respected instrument maker and Gibson’s closest competitor. In fact, until he was lured away by Gibson around 1950, Les Paul (the man, not the guitar) was a dedicated Epiphone user. As well as archtop jazz guitars, they also sold banjos, mandolins, ukuleles, double basses and amplifiers.

By 1957 the company had fallen on hard times. Crippled by labour problems (they lost much of their workforce to the newly established Guild guitar company) and financial woes, Epiphone was purchased by Gibson for just $20,000. Initially it was only Epiphone’s upright double bass design and technology which Gibson assumed they were buying but, almost by accident, they ended up acquiring the entire company, including all the guitar models and inventory.

This is where it gets interesting for vintage guitar aficionados. Although the double bass was soon dropped from the catalogue, from 1958 to 1969, Epiphone guitars were built at the Gibson factory in Kalamazoo, Michigan by the same craftsmen using the same wood and other materials as other Gibson models. This meant they were of equal (or, in some cases, higher) quality as their Gibson counterparts despite maintaining their own individual brand identity.

This was done for a couple of reasons. One was to keep the venerable Epiphone name alive, and another was to avoid handing out too many Gibson franchises within the same proximity. If, say, a guitar store opened down the street from an existing Gibson dealer, the new store could be offered an Epiphone dealership instead, thus avoiding a conflict of interest.

A similar situation happened in the UK when Marshall amplifiers took off in the late 60s/early 70s. To meet demand Marshall launched a new brand they named Park. In almost every respect other than cosmetically, Park amplifiers were identical to Marshalls. So, if a dealer couldn’t get a Marshall franchise for whatever reason, they could become a Park retailer instead and (in theory) everyone was happy.

But let’s get back to Epiphone. For those of us who live and breathe vintage American guitars, Epiphone’s golden era was undoubtedly the decade 1958-69. This is when their guitars were made in the Kalamazoo factory but were just different enough from Gibsons to retain their own individuality. To separate the brands even further as far as UK buyers were concerned, the British distributor for Gibson guitars was Selmer, while Epiphones were imported by Rose-Morris, who also shipped Rickenbackers into the UK.

During this period almost every Epiphone model was, to some degree or other, based on an existing Gibson guitar and the UK seems to have been a booming market for these instruments during that time. When we saw those 60s beat groups on TV you could bet your life just as many Epiphones were on display as Gibsons or Fenders.

All three Beatle guitarists favoured Epiphone Casinos (Lennon and Harrison onstage and all three in the studio) and, no doubt helped by its association with the Fab Four, the Casino was one of the few Epiphone models which outsold its Gibson equivalent, the virtually identical Gibson ES-330.

Likewise, sales of the Epiphone Rivoli bass probably outstripped its sister model the Gibson EB-2, certainly among the 60s UK beat groups. The EB-2 was a rare beast in 60s Britain, while the Rivoli was favoured by Chas Chandler (the Animals), Paul Samwell-Smith, (the Yardbirds), Les Chadwick (Gerry & the Pacemakers), Ronnie Lane (the Small Faces) and many others. While sunburst was by far the most popular finish, Scott Walker played a rare blonde Rivoli with the Walker Brothers and so did Andy Fraser (Free) and Bob Lang (Wayne Fontana & the Mindbenders).

As we have seen, most Epiphones were variations of existing Gibson models, and the Texan is closely released to the slope shouldered Gibson J-45 albeit with some fancier appointments. Dubbed the “workhorse” the J-45 has long been the company’s most popular acoustic. Just like the J-45, the Texan was constructed with a spruce top, Honduras mahogany neck, back and sides and Brazilian rosewood bridge and fingerboard. The one major difference between the two instruments is the scale length (i.e. the distance between the nut and the bridge). The Gibson has a 24.75” scale, while the Epiphone comes in at 25.5”. The longer scale length supposedly gives the Texan a snappier tone. Although, speaking as someone who has owned 60s examples of both guitars for decades, I can’t say I’ve noticed too much difference in the way they play or sound.

1966 UK Epiphone Catalogue - Prices Shown In Guineas

The official factory designation of the Epiphone Texan was the FT-79, with “FT” standing for flat top. Epiphone produced an acoustic guitar they called the FT-79 from the late 40s and through the 50s. This was re-named the FT-79 Texan in 1959 after the Gibson takeover. The earlier guitar was a mid-sized instrument, very different to the slope shoulder J-45 lookalike model it became. Jimi Hendrix had one of the pre-Gibson FT-79s which he apparently used at home and when travelling.

In 1969 Gibson recognised the threat of cheap imported guitars and Epiphone production was moved offshore, first to Japan and later to Korea, China and Indonesia. A strictly limited number of historic Epiphone models continued to be made in the USA, but most Epiphones made after 1969 were budget models which have little or no interest to vintage guitar collectors.

Around 2019 the Epiphone brand received a major re-boot and began producing higher quality guitars again, including decent mid-price versions of some famous 60s models (Casino, Coronet, Texan etc.) along with cheaper Epiphone versions of classic Gibsons (Les Paul, SG, J-45 etc.). Most were made in China and Indonesia, although a select few were built in the Gibson Montana factory with a hefty price tag to match.

Shipped from the Kalamazoo factory in May 1964 with serial number 194959, McCartney’s Epiphone was one of 690 natural finish Texans made that year. The guitar has since been reissued several times both as US and Japanese made versions. There was even an exact replica, hand-aged with scratches, dings and the famous Detroit Red Wings ice hockey team sticker. A fan gave the sticker to Paul when Wings played Detroit’s Olympia Stadium in May 1976, and it’s been seen on his guitar ever since.

Like many acoustic players, McCartney subsequently replaced the adjustable ceramic bridge on his 1964 Texan with a fixed saddle during the 70s and all re-issues/replicas of the guitar seem to reflect this change. Although common on Gibson and Epiphone acoustics throughout the 60s, adjustable bridges are not considered to provide the best tone and have fallen out of favour on all but the most accurate 60s re-issue guitars.

The limited-edition USA-made replicas were available in two batches of 40 and 250 examples, some of them were signed on the blue label inside the sound hole or on top of the guitar. These now sell for huge sums, often exceeding the price of 60s originals.

Along with Paul McCartney, other famous names who have played original 60s Texans include Tom Robinson (TRB), Peter Frampton (with Humble Pie and beyond), Al Stewart, Graham Nash (with the Hollies and CSN), Ronnie Lane (with the Small Faces), Wizz Jones and Steve Took (Tyrannosaurus Rex) to name just a few. 

I’ve owned the sunburst 1964 Epiphone Texan (pictured below) for 50 years. It’s still my go-to acoustic guitar (and I’ve owned a lot of guitars over the decades) and could be my most treasured possession. It came from a furniture auction sale outside of London in 1976 for the princely sum of £120. That converts to around £850 in today’s money, but it’s probably worth more like £3,000 on the vintage guitar market. I really wanted a blonde Texan like McCartney’s, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Other more famous musicians clearly treasure their Epiphones too. McCartney’s priceless Texan was even pictured on the sleeve of his 1971 Wings LP Wild Life and he clearly has great affection for the guitar. Graham Nash still owns the hand decorated Epiphone he used with the Hollies and CSN and Peter Frampton recently received a signature model of the beloved Texan he first played in Humble Pie.

While writing this piece I spoke to Tom Robinson on Twitter/X. Let’s leave the final words to him:

“I worked hop picking all summer to save up £69 to buy my Epiphone Texan second-hand in 1970. Moved to London in 1973 and sold it the following year when short of cash. Not the worst decision I ever made, but fucking close”.

Texans Ahoy! Clockwise from top left: Tom Robinson, Peter Frampton, Graham Nash, Ronnie Lane, Wizz Jones, Al Stewart

The Ones That Got Away: Near Misses With Rare Records - #3 Led Zeppelin

Here’s another sorry tale of how I let a rare and valuable record slip through my fingers. Like the earlier pieces this one also concerns Led Zeppelin – their debut album, in fact. But unlike those other records I did actually own this LP for quite some time. Although that probably only makes this saga even more lamentable.

So what? you may say. LZ’s albums sold by the squillons after all. Not this version, however. In the strange and obsessive world of record collecting this could be the single most desirable Zeppelin artefact of all, at least among the records which were sold commercially (ie not promotional releases). I’m talking about the very first UK pressing of Led Zeppelin (Atlantic 588 171). To be specific, it’s the one with the album title and Atlantic Records logo printed on the front in turquoise, with a distinctive grey stripe/border along the bottom edge of the sleeve.

Why is this album so rare? It’s because only a very limited number (at a guess, maybe just a couple of thousand copies, although don’t quote me on that) escaped into the world before the sleeve was reprinted and the turquoise print was replaced with the orange lettering we are so familiar with today. Also, this version identifies the record as an undisputed, genuine first edition and just as in the world of rare books, that carries great weight in terms of value and collectability, especially with an artist as important as Zeppelin.

I’ve never heard a convincing explanation as to why this variation came to be. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I like to think was something as simple as the printer running out of turquoise ink. Such slipshod cost cutting measures were not uncommon back in the 60s. It was only rock & roll, after all. Whatever the reason, this early version of the album sold out within weeks (if not days) making it incredibly rare and desirable today among those who value such things.

A change in the colour of the print may seem like a trivial thing to get all fired up about, but that kind of detail is meat and drink in the world of record collecting. And Led Zeppelin collectors are some of the most obsessive of all, probably second only to Beatles fans in that respect. I should mention that apart from the sleeve, there are several other tiny differences/discrepancies which distinguish the early pressings of this LP, but we won’t go there. Uncorrected matrix numbers and amended publishing credits are way beyond the scope of this blog, besides which that way madness lies for sure.

But what of the record itself? It’s impossible to overstate the importance of the debut Led Zeppelin album. Released in early 1969, it was a towering achievement which swept all before it. “Communication Breakdown”, “How Many More Times”, “You Shook Me”, “Dazed and Confused” and the rest created shock waves which are still felt throughout rock today. Following on from the Mayall/Clapton “Beano Album” and Jeff Beck’s Truth debut, Jimmy Page saw a lucrative gap in the heavy rock market and claimed it for his own.

I’d seen Zeppelin play at Sheffield University on November 23, 1968, over four months before the album hit UK stores. Discounting a few warm-up dates in Scandinavia, Sheffield was just the 8th gig they ever played and, in fact, the advance posters were still billing them as “The New Yardbirds”, although the new name was in place by the time I saw them. Today it would be unusual for a band to tour without a record of some kind in the shops, but that’s exactly what Zeppelin did in late 1968.

I bought my copy of Led Zeppelin I (as it became known retrospectively) in mid-April 1969 at Bradleys Record Centre in Sheffield city centre, just days after it was released. The price of a new LP at the time was around £2. I kept it for a few years before trading it in at Honest Jon’s record store on Portobello Road. You did that kind of thing back then. If you needed money to pay the rent on your grotty bed-sit, or cash to buy more records, you’d take an armful of LPs down to the local second-hand store. Rare records were not yet a thing in the early 70s and the turquoise sleeve variation meant absolutely nothing to me at that time. The store paid the going rate of one or two pounds for each album, if they were in good condition, which we happily accepted.

So that’s where my rare turquoise copy of the first Led Zeppelin LP ended up - traded in for a quid at Honest Jon’s. Today, things are very different, and in recent years we’ve seen the value of this record go stratospheric. The highest selling price I could find on Discogs was around £8,000 while several copies between £5,000 and £7,000 have been recorded on Popsike.com. In June 2024 esteemed music journalist and broadcaster Danny Baker sold his personal copy at auction for £2,800 which almost seems like a bargain for the lucky bidder. In the Omega Auction catalogue notes Danny wrote:

"Bought, LATE 70S, in Greenwich upstairs in a commercial duplex that mainly sold old books and magazines. Long gone now. I didn’t have a copy of LZ at the time and had no clue about the colours on the cover. It was ten pounds and the man reiterated the price to me before putting it in a bag. It was ten times dearer than anything else in his racks."

Polydor handled the Atlantic label in Britain until 1971 when distribution switched to Kinney/Warner Bros. That’s when the Atlantic labels changed from their familiar plum/orange to green/orange (see below). Kinney was superseded by WEA Records in 1972.

While my turquoise copy may be long gone, I do still have three early vinyl copies of Led Zeppelin I (of course I do) comprising a couple of plum label pressings and an early 70s Kinney/Warner Bros issue, all with orange lettering, naturally. And that’s before we get to the many and varied CD releases. But that’s probably enough tedious information for one day.

A Murmuration of Tired Starlings: Cream – Wheels of Fire (Super Deluxe Edition)

by Stuart Penney

I must declare a vested interest here. There was a period when Wheels of Fire was my all-time favourite album. From Martin Sharp’s eye-watering psychedelic sleeve artwork to the life-affirming music within, Cream’s third LP was (and still is) just about perfect.

Nestling alongside the timeless self-penned heavy rock anthems (“White Room”, “Politician”), high octane psychedelia (“Passing the Time”, “Those Were the Days”, “Deserted Cities of the Heart”) and the just plain bizarre (“Pressed Rat and Warthog”) are supercharged blues classics learned from Albert King, Robert Johnson, Willie Dixon and Howlin’ Wolf. 

The performance of “Crossroads” here is sometimes described as the greatest live rock ensemble recording ever committed to vinyl and it’s hard to argue with that. On an album bursting at the seams with great music, this titanic performance of Robert Johnson’s most famous song towers above all else.

I bought my original vinyl copy of Wheels of Fire within days of release in August 1968, and it was very expensive at the time. Available in mono or stereo (mine was mono, although I didn’t specify a preference at the record store counter), the double album retailed at 72s/2d (£3.60). To put that in perspective, it was getting on for a third of my £12 weekly wage at the time. But it was worth every penny. Despite acquiring several more copies both on vinyl and CD over the years, I still own that original double LP. It’s looking a little dog eared now, but I’ll never part with it.

And now here comes this much-anticipated five CD box set which surely must be the last word on all things Wheels of Fire. Perhaps I was expecting too much, but I have to say I was a little underwhelmed, if not exactly disappointed.

It goes without saying that the packaging is excellent. No problem there. It comes housed in a beautiful 10-inch slipcover box. Inside is a 30-page book incorporating sleeve notes by Jim Farber plus a wealth of era-correct colour and black and white photos showing onstage action, together with US and UK record labels (although I have to say the binding is already coming unglued on my copy of the book).

The problem for me is the music, or the repetition thereof. The original remastered album sounds magnificent naturally. It always has and probably always will. But you can have too much of a good thing and stretching what is basically the same double LP out over most of the five CDs is overegging the pudding somewhat.

Disc One contains the studio album – twice. I confess I didn’t understand the technical jargon used such as “CSG Encoded Version” and “Phase Corrected (de-CSG’d) Version” so had to look it up. I discovered that CSG was used primarily between 1968-70 to make two-channel stereo recordings compatible with mono equipment. It’s estimated that 10% of all stereo albums released in the late 60s and early 70s employed the CSG system. Unfortunately, it apparently made listening on stereo headphones less than ideal resulting in a “tinny” sound. That doesn’t appear to be a problem here, but I simply couldn’t hear much difference between the two versions.

Disc Two contains the studio album twice (again), this time as “Stereo and Mono Reference Reels”. Ginger Baker’s “Pressed Rat and Warthog” features a brief spoken introduction we’ve not heard before and there are small differences in the track timings but, again, you’d be hard pushed to notice too much difference between the two versions, other than the obvious, of course.

Disc Three features the WOF live material and at 44 minutes has the shortest running time of the lot. The original double LP told us that the live album was recorded at the Fillmore Auditorium when, in fact, only Ginger’s drum marathon “Toad” originated there. The rest (including the aforementioned magnificent “Crossroads”) were recorded a few streets away at Bill Graham’s other San Francisco venue, the Winterland Ballroom. It’s good to see that information finally corrected here.

The 1968 album also credited “Sitting on Top of the World” to Chester Burnett (aka Howlin’ Wolf). The Wolf made the song famous, it’s true, but it was first recorded in 1930 by the Mississippi Sheiks as a fiddle and guitar country blues. That credit has also been amended for the box set.

Disc Four gives us eight more live tracks recorded at the Fillmore and Winterland in March 1968. Aside from a previously unreleased version of “We’re Going Wrong” all of these tracks originally appeared on Live Cream (1970) and Live Cream Volume II (1972). Three tracks from Volume II are not included here, however, because they were recorded later in 1968 at the Oakland Coliseum. The three live tracks from Goodbye Cream also date from the LA Forum in October 1968 and these were included on the 2020 box set Goodbye Tour (1968). Some early vinyl pressings of Volume II erroneously listed “Steppin’ Out” as “Hideaway” and, again, that mistake has been fixed.

Disc Five. This 15-track CD is the pick of the bunch. Featuring alternate mixes, early versions, rare live cuts and the non-album single “Anyone For Tennis” it’s worth the price of admission alone.

It’s all great stuff, but the stand-out tracks are an early mono mix of “White Room” with different guitar parts (sans wah-wah) and 1968 live versions of “N.S.U.” (previously available only on the Those Were The Days box set) and “Sunshine of Your Love” (previously available only on a rare Eric Clapton CD single).

58 years after it was first released this is probably the ultimate version of Wheels of Fire. Featuring three of the finest rock musicians of the era at the very top of their game, it was the pinnacle of their brief three-year career. At fifty quid, this is not a cheap item, especially as much of the material is repeated several times over with (to my ears) little difference between the many versions. But to hard core Cream aficionados that will matter not at all.

TRACK LISTING:

Disc One:

Wheels of Fire: In the Studio (2026 Remaster)

1968 Originally Released CSG Encoded Version

1. White Room (4:59)
2. Sitting On Top of the World (4:59)
3. Passing The Time (4:33)
4. As You Said (4:22)
5. Pressed Rat and Warthog (3:15)
6. Politician (4:14)
7. Those Were the Days (2:55)
8. Born Under a Bad Sign (3:11)
9. Deserted Cities of the Heart (3:42)

Wheels of Fire: In the Studio (Phase Corrected 2026 Remaster)

Previously Unreleased Phase Corrected (De-CSG’d) Version

10. White Room (4:59)
11. Sitting On Top of the World (4:59)
12. Passing The Time (4:32)
13. As You Said (4:22)
14. Pressed Rat and Warthog (3:15)
15. Politician (4:14)
16. Those Were the Days (2:55)
17. Born Under a Bad Sign (3:11)
18. Deserted Cities of the Heart (3:40)

Disc Two:

Wheels of Fire: In the Studio (Stereo Reference Reels)

Previously Unreleased Stereo Tapes

1. White Room (4:59)
2. Sitting On Top of the World (4:55)
3. Passing The Time (Long Version) (5:50)
4. As You Said (4:16)
5. Pressed Rat and Warthog (With Spoken Intro) (3:16)
6. Politician (4:10)
7. Those Were the Days (2:54)
8. Born Under a Bad Sign (3:08)
9. Deserted Cities of the Heart (3:36)

Wheels of Fire: In the Studio (Mono Reference Reels)

Previously Unreleased Mono Tapes

10. White Room (4:59)
11. Sitting On Top of the World (4:57)
12. Passing The Time (Long Version) (5:50)
13. As You Said (4:18)
14. Pressed Rat and Warthog (With Spoken Intro) (3:15)
15. Politician (4:11)
16. Those Were the Days (2:54)
17. Born Under a Bad Sign (3:10)
18. Deserted Cities of the Heart (3:39)

Disc Three:

Wheels of Fire: Live at the Fillmore Auditorium & Winterland Ballroom (2026 Remaster)

1. Crossroads (4:16)
2. Spoonful (16:48)
3. Traintime (7:02)
4. Toad (16:16)

Disc Four:

Wheels of Fire: More Live at the Fillmore Auditorium & Winterland Ballroom (2026 Remaster)

1. N.S.U. (10:15)
2. Sleepy Time Time (6:51)
3. Rollin’ And Tumblin’ (6:45)
4. Sweet Wine (15:18)
5. Tales Of Brave Ulysses (4:45)
6. We’re Going Wrong (6:55)
7. Sunshine Of Your Love (7:25)
8. Steppin’ Out (13:41)

Disc Five:

Wheels of Fire: Rarities (2026 Remaster)

Early Versions, Alternate Mixes, Single Versions and Live Recordings + Previously Unreleased

1. White Room (Stereo Us Single Edit) (3:05)
2. Sitting On Top of the World (Alternate Stereo Mix) (4:57) +
3. Passing The Time (Alternate Long Stereo Mix) (5:51) +
4. As You Said (Alternate Stereo Mix) (4:19) +
5. Pressed Rat and Warthog (Alternate Stereo Mix) (3:10) +
6. Politician (Alternate Stereo Mix) (4:11) +
7. Anyone For Tennis (Stereo Single Mix) (2:39)
8. White Room (Early Version Mono Mix) (4:29) +
9. Deserted Cities of the Heart (Rough Mono Mix / No Strings) (3:37) +
10. Pressed Rat and Warthog (Alternate Mono Mix) (3:14) +
11. As You Said (Alternate Mono Mix) (4:21) +
12. Anyone For Tennis (Mono Single Mix) (2:39)
13. Crossroads (Mono Single Version) (4:16)
14. N.S.U. (Recorded 9 March 1968 At Winterland Ballroom) (12:38)
15. Sunshine Of Your Love (Recorded 7 March 1968 at the Fillmore Auditorium) (6:58)

Plus… Tubular Bells! Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells, His Majesty’s Theatre, Perth. W. Australia June 6, 2026

by Stuart Penney

“I never thought that the word ‘tubular bells’ was going to play such an important part in our lives ... Virgin going into space most likely wouldn’t have existed if we hadn’t hired that particular instrument.”

— Richard Branson, 2013

History tells us that Tubular Bells was the very first release on the Virgin label. It occupied the UK charts for 279 weeks and is estimated to have sold 17 million copies since its 1973 release. After the opening theme was picked up for The Exorcist movie it became a worldwide sensation, helping Richard Branson’s fledgling company become the multi-billion-dollar enterprise we know today.

Although the current touring production has the composer’s blessing, the posters outside the venue make it perfectly clear he is not directly involved and will not be appearing. Oldfield officially retired from performing some years ago, after all.

But this is far from just another tribute act. The task of putting this extravaganza together fell to musical director and pianist Robin A. Smith. He has worked with Oldfield extensively over the decades (including at the 2012 London Olympics opening ceremony) and he understands this music better than almost anyone else.

The first half of the show comprised sections of Tubular Bells II (1992) and Tubular Bells III (1998). Faultlessly performed though they were, I suspect many in the audience were unfamiliar with these less famous sequels and were itching for the main event to begin. Instantly recognisable however was the 1983 single “Moonlight Shadow” which closed the first half. It featured a terrific vocal performance from Melbourne’s Jameson Butler, who was heard to great effect almost throughout the entire programme.

Watching the eight people on stage meticulously working through this remarkable music, sometimes delicately, often with sledgehammer ferocity, really drives home just what an incredible achievement the original Tubular Bells album was. Mike Oldfield was just 19 years old when he recorded it, largely alone. There were no computers back then. The record was painstakingly pieced together via a thousand overdubs and razor blade tape edits in glorious analogue. And let’s say it again: he played it ALL BY HIMSELF.

Conducted and directed with a series of elaborate hand signals by the charmingly eccentric Smith on piano and keyboards, the sprawling ensemble, comprising two guitars, mandolin, electric cello, bass guitar, two drummers/percussionists and vocals, looked mightily impressive occupying the entire stage. As a guitar spotter I was thrilled to see that Ruben Alvarez and Maxime Obadia were playing period correct instruments. I won’t bore you with the minutiae, but onstage were a trio of Fenders, a PRS and a Gibson SG Junior. All of them identical to the guitars used by Oldfield himself. It was a nice tribute and a lovely touch of detail.

Jack Davies impressed with his work on an actual set of tubular bells (positioned high up and placed centre stage, of course), while second drummer/percussionist Will Miles beefed up the sound on a full rock drum kit.

When it came to the famous finale where the instruments are introduced one by one, the bassist (whose name I didn’t catch) held down that interminable wrist-aching motif admirably. As for the voice-over, it sounded like a tape of the original 1973 Vivian Stanshall narration was used.

As an encore we were treated to a manic version of “Sailor’s Hornpipe” which ends side two of the original Tubular Bells album.

Other than perhaps the bassist, the hardest working man on the night appeared to be the long-haired guitar tech. He was almost literally run off his feet, fixing assorted technical issues and emerging from the wings every few minutes with a fresh instrument after re-tuning what seemed like a dozen electric and acoustic guitars, plus mandolins. The fact that from where we were sitting up in the gods, he bore more than a passing resemblance to Neil from TV’s The Young Ones was just a happy bonus.

I’ve long been convinced that the key to Tubular Bells’ success is that missing beat in the introductory section. They may not be aware of it, but the listener is subconsciously waiting for the extra beat to arrive, enabling the piece to resolve. But of course, due to that devilish 15/8 time signature, it never does arrive. The opening passage runs for only four minutes, but it creates an unsettling air of tension, piquing the interest and setting the scene for the delights to come. Which is exactly why it worked so well as the main theme to The Exorcist.

53 years after it was recorded, Mike Oldfield’s magnum opus has become akin to modern classical music. There have been numerous versions over the years, live and on record and it is still regularly played by rock bands and orchestras around the world. Tonight we heard a truly great performance. Long may it continue.

Ralph McTell: Somewhere Down the Road Farewell Tour, Perth, W. Australia May 9, 2026

 

When I last saw Ralph McTell in 2007, he opened his set with “Streets of London,” undoubtedly his biggest song. “Let’s get that out of the way” he quipped, almost as if the legendary number had become a millstone around his neck. But tonight was very different. “Streets” was saved for the big finale where it was received with heartfelt audience participation followed by a prolonged standing ovation. This side of Glastonbury, it’s been a while since I’ve heard a crowd sing along with such gusto.

That could be because, as the name suggests, after no fewer than 16 visits since 1976 this looks likely to be McTell's final Australian tour, and he clearly felt the old war horse of a song deserved to go out with dignity. Just like the performer himself, in fact.

Ralph and I go back a long way. I first saw him play at the legendary Soho basement folk club Les Cousins at the tail-end of the 60s. At the other end of the show biz scale, I was also there at the Royal Albert Hall in May 1976 for the concert which became the UK half of the Ralph, Albert and Sydney album. But, after 60 years treading the boards, the small halls and folk clubs remain McTell’s spiritual home and the compact 500 seat State Theatre Centre of WA in the heart of Perth was the perfect venue to enjoy his intimate songs and stories, possibly for the last time.

Arriving onstage looking like an extra from the TV show Death In Paradise in a white suit with matching shoes he seemed a little overdressed for the occasion, but at age 81 I guess he’s long outgrown the folksingers’ uniform of jeans and work shirt. Reassuringly, his trademark Gibson J50 guitar, a model he’s been associated with since his earliest days, was present and correct.

A truly great finger-picking guitarist, he made it all look so easy as he took us on a leisurely stroll through his back catalogue, throwing in a handful of new songs along the way, each one prefaced with a humorous or heart-warming story (sometimes both). The mid-70s was Ralph’s most fertile songwriting period and “From Clare To Here” from the Right Side Up album remains one of his finest tunes. It tells of a homesick Irishman he met while working the building sites around London.

Aside from "Streets of London", the oldest song of the night was “Mrs Adlam’s Angels” both from McTell's 1969 second album Spiral Staircase. Like all his early albums it was originally released on the folk-centric Transatlantic label alongside classics by Ralph’s contemporaries Bert Jansch, John Renbourn and the like.

The giant grand piano which had lurked ominously in the shadows for much of the set was finally employed for two of his strongest songs, “Old Brown Dog” and the eternally moving “Naomi”. A lengthy preamble explained the latter was written for Ralph’s grandparents and I noticed a few moist eyes being quietly dabbed. With most of tonight’s elderly audience probably now grandparents themselves, the song seemed to take on an added poignancy. 

Judging by the assorted British accents I heard in the bar, I’d estimate a sizable chunk of tonight’s crowd were ex-pat Poms, in which case there was really no need for the lengthy explanation of the word “charabanc” from the opening line of “Maginot Waltz”.

After a short interval the second half kicked off with “Kenny the Kangaroo” from the 1983 children's TV show Alphabet Zoo presented by Ralph and Nerys Hughes (she of The Liver Birds fame). It was all a bit twee and the only minor downside of the evening. “It was my manager’s idea” said a clearly embarrassed Ralph, by way of mitigation.

Much better was “The Girl From The Hiring Fair”. 40 years ago, McTell donated this powerful song to Fairport Convention for their comeback album Gladys’ Leap. But it has always remained a fixture of his own set and seldom sounded better than tonight’s performance. His knack of capturing the imagery of a bygone era and translating it into song is a rare gift.

Weirdly, considering the venue is located smack dab in the late-night clubbing area of the city, they had imposed a 10pm curfew, leading to a somewhat rushed ending to the concert. Before starting the aforementioned “Streets of London” closer, Ralph had pre-warned us there would be no encore and, due to time constraints, possibly no meet and greet afterwards either, as usually happens at intimate concerts such as this. Sure enough, he hurriedly exited the stage with the applause still ringing out, and his final Perth show was over.  

Before hanging up his Gibson for the final time, Ralph still has some European dates to play including, as he told us, a short tour of Ireland. But if this really was his last Aussie visit, let's remember it for the great music he gave us over the decades and not for that somewhat abrupt finale.  

Footnote:

During the flight from Sydney to Adelaide on May 16, Ralph's Gibson J50 suffered a catastrophic broken headstock courtesy of the airline, and an emergency replacement guitar was hastily found in order to complete the last date of the tour. As he later said on his Facebook page "That's show business".