by Stuart Penney
As far back as I can remember I’ve
always loved records. I realise that sounds like the opening line from the movie Goodfellas
but it’s true. When I was growing up in the 50s, we had piles of pre-rock &
roll 78rpm singles in the house (the fragile, shellac kind) by the likes of
George Formby, Johnnie Ray, Mario Lanza and Guy Mitchell which my grandmother
would play on an ancient, clanky, wind-up gramophone (sans horn, unfortunately).
Even before I could properly read,
I was able to distinguish one record from another by the colour of their labels
and/or the font style: Yellow MGM? Must be Connie Francis. Dark blue Philips? That
would be Doris Day. Light blue HMV? Probably Alma Cogan. Green Columbia? Tricky. Possibly the Mudlarks or perhaps Michel Holliday. Purple Capitol? It could only be my
dad’s favourite “Tennessee” Ernie Ford. And so on. It became quite the party trick,
and my parents would wheel me out to impress visiting relatives with my pre-school
record spotting.
Then, in 1958, just about the time
rock & roll hit Britain, a cousin gave me a carrier bag full of 7” singles by Elvis, Bobby Darin, Paul Anka, the Everly Brothers etc
and that, most assuredly, was that. I was off and running.
In over 65 years of collecting since
then, I’ve amassed untold thousands of records (and parted with almost as many,
sad to say). I even ran a second-hand record shop for 30 years which helped
feed my vinyl addiction no end. But enough of that. Allow me to tell you about the
very first long-playing record I ever called my own.
You won’t find it in any of those trendy “Greatest Albums” lists we see in the dad rock magazines such as Uncut or Mojo, and today it’s largely forgotten (or worse, derided) by collectors and critics alike. My inaugural album was (drum roll, please) Cliff Sings, the second LP by Cliff Richard.
No, wait! Come back! I know what
you’re thinking. With his goody two-shoes image and cringeworthy Wimbledon
tennis rain break singalongs, the Peter Pan of Pop may have been hopelessly,
desperately, terminally uncool for decades. But it wasn’t always that way.
I’m not ashamed to say that before the Beatles and Dylan; before discovering electric blues, folk, jazz and psychedelia, in fact before just about every other kind of music I grew to cherish, Cliff was my guy. The infatuation didn’t last much beyond late 1962 and the arrival of the Fab Four, it’s true, but his early records, some of which were (and remain) excellent slabs of well-produced early 60s pop, will always have a special place in my heart. Allow me to explain.
It started in the best way possible in August 1958 with “Move It!” Cliff’s debut single was a #2 UK hit and is now unanimously regarded as one of the first great British rock & roll records. Together with “Shakin’ All Over” by Johnny Kidd & the Pirates (UK #1 in 1960), they were the equal of almost anything coming out of America at that time. “Move It” was absolutely the real deal and light years away from the Cliff Richard of “Congratulations” and Eurovision.
The song was penned by Ian Samwell, a 2i’s coffee bar regular who played guitar for Cliff before being edged out by Hank Marvin and Bruce Welch. Samwell wrote or co-wrote around a dozen of Cliff’s early songs plus “What’cha Gonna Do About It” for the Small Faces. In 1972 he co-produced the debut album by the band America, including their first hit single “A Horse with No Name” and, in 1970, he escorted Frank Zappa around London while the Mother Superior recorded at Trident studios. From Cliff to Zappa is a mighty long stretch, but Samwell was up for the task.
I already owned some of Cliff’s singles and 7” EPs at that point, but Cliff Sings was a giant first leap into the adult world of long-players. Released in November 1959 when I was still a sub-teen in short pants, it arrived under the Christmas tree nicely gift wrapped a month later. It’s looking a little tired and dog eared now, and the back cover is yellowed with age, but after more than seven decades and what seems like a million plays, I still have that very same copy (pictured here). Considering the stone age hi fi equipment it’s seen for much of its life (mainly Dansettes of variable age and quality, often with styli blunted by age and misuse) I’d say it has survived remarkably well.
With its heavy-duty laminated cardboard sleeve, this unfeasibly thick slab of vinyl with antiquated green and gold Columbia label design really does look like something from a bygone era. EMI didn’t standardise the designs of their three main labels - Columbia, HMV and Parlophone - until early 1963 and the old-style designs seem quaintly antediluvian today. As was the custom, no artist is credited on the labels. There’s just the album title and track listing, together with composers and music publishers, all in tiny, hard to read gold-on-green type.
On the front cover we see a
photograph of the man himself in moody semi profile against a soft-focus
background. His hair is piled high in a
magnificent, greased pompadour and the collar of his corduroy jacket is turned
up, James Dean style, in an approximation of teenage rebellion. His face,
although on the cute side of handsome, still has a hint of puppy fat. In April
1962 Cliff’s “chubby appearance” was referenced by the Minnie Caldwell
character in an episode of TV soap Coronation Street, something
which mortified Cliff, prompting him to embark on a lifelong diet.
Nobody would create a record sleeve
like this today unless they were seeking to be ironic or aiming for a look of
pure nostalgia. But in 1959 this cover design probably seemed as modern as
tomorrow.
It was Cliff’s second LP, but it
might just as well have been his first, since his early 1959 debut album titled, simply, Cliff was a scrappy affair of rock & roll covers recorded
live before an invited audience at EMI Recording Studios in St. John's Wood (later renamed Abbey
Road, of course.)
The world was a very
different place when Cliff Sings was released. It was a world where rock & roll was just coming of age. John, Paul and George were scuffing
around Liverpool as The Quarrymen looking for a permanent drummer while playing
lunchtime gigs at the Casbah club. In America Elvis was halfway through his enforced
stint in the army and Chuck Berry was about to be arrested for that most bafflingly
American of offences “transporting a minor across state lines.” In the UK we
had very little idea what that meant at the time, but Chuck ended up in clink
so, clearly, it was a serious business.
It was a world where Harold
MacMillan (“You’ve never had it so good”) was British Prime Minister and Dwight
D. Eisenhower (“I Like Ike”) was midway through a second term as US president. Alaska and Hawaii had recently become the 49th
and 50th states respectively and Fidel Castro seized power in Cuba, where he
would stay until 2008.
US album of the year in 1959 was
Henry Mancini’s The Music From Peter Gunn and the song of the
year was “Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Volare)” by Domenico Modugno (of which more
later).
In the jazz world the Dave Brubeck
Quartet's Time Out became the first long player to sell a million
copies. Over in Britain, who else but
Cliff Richard had the biggest hit single of 1959 with “Living Doll” which sold
800,000 copies in the UK and almost two million worldwide.
Volare
Cliff Sings may have
been my first LP, but it wasn’t the first record I was proud to call my very
own. That distinction goes to a soundalike version of “Volare” released on a 7”
single in September 1958. This song started life in the 1958 Eurovision song
contest with the title “Nel Blu Dpinto di Blu” (translation: “In the blue,
painted blue".) It became popularly known as “Volare” (which means “to
fly") and went on to be covered no less than 16 times within a couple of years, eventually selling
a combined total of 18 million copies. I wanted the Dean Martin recording but
was fobbed off with a soundalike version by someone called Rikki Henderson on Woolworth’s
cheapo Embassy label.
Stereo EPs
Cliff Sings was
initially available in mono only as a 12” LP.
Yet, in what appeared to be a brazen attempt at upselling by EMI, all16
tracks soon appeared on four individual 7” EPs in mono or stereo. These were designated
Cliff Sings No.1-4 and released between February and September
1960. A similar thing had happened with
the debut mono-only Cliff LP, although in that case only 12 of
the 16 tracks were issued in mono or stereo on just two EPs.
Dozens of stereo EPs were issued by
EMI during the 50s and 60s, including several by Cliff and the Shadows
(separately and together). They didn’t
sell as well as the mono versions because few record buyers had the equipment
to play them at the time and they now command a premium over the mono versions
on the collectors’ market. Stereo EPs
appear to have been phased out by the mid-60s followed by mono EPs around 1970.
A total of six UK Cliff Richard
albums were split into 7” EPs. Along
with Cliff and Cliff Sings the others were: Me
and My Shadows (3 EPs in 1961), Listen To Cliff (2 EPs in
1961), Cliff Richard (2 EPs in 1962) and Wonderful Life
(3 EPs in 1964). All were available in
stereo or mono.
The Shadows
One of the most significant things
about Cliff Sings is that it marked the first appearance of the
Shadows’ name on an LP (the Cliff debut album was initially
credited to Cliff Richard and the Drifters, although this was changed to the
Shadows for later pressings). There it
is on the back cover, the legendary first line-up: Hank B. Marvin, Jet
Harris, Tony Meehan, Bruce Welch.
The enforced change from Drifters
to Shadows came in mid-1959 to avoid confusion with the “Save The Last Dance
For Me” US hitmakers. The new name first appeared on Cliff’s “Travellin’ Light”
single in October and the first Shadows’ record without Cliff under this
moniker was their single “Lonesome Fella” in December 1959. Before this, they
had released two singles as the Drifters and appeared on almost a dozen singles
and EPs backing Cliff with the old name, including his first big hit “Living
Doll” in July. The Drifters also had
three tracks to themselves on the Cliff album.
In 1961/62 both Jet Harris and Tony
Meehan left the Shadows within six months of each other to pursue solo
careers. Jet was replaced by Brian
“Licorice” Locking on bass and it was he who brought religion into the band. Locking was a devout Jehovah’s Witness, and
he got Hank and his first wife interested in the movement. Cliff resisted
however and it’s thought this is when he embraced Christianity.
Jet and Tony scored a trio of top 5
hits in 1963 with the singles “Diamonds,” “Scarlet O’Hara” and “Applejack.” Jimmy
Page played on “Diamonds” and all three featured John Paul Jones. The duo parted ways following a car crash,
Meehan moving into production and Harris continuing as a solo artist.
After Cliff jumped the shark and
drifted off into the nightmare world of Eurovision, sappy pop and Christianity,
there was still Hank, of course. Hank was always there. Apart from Lonnie
Donegan and maybe Chris Barber, I think it’s fair to say that no one was more
influential in pre-Beatles British music than Hank. Virtually every big-name British guitarist who came to fame in the 60s/70s – Clapton, Beck and
Page; Brian May; Ritchie Blackmore; Peter Green, the list is endless – has said it was Hank and his fiesta red Fender Stratocaster who inspired them along the way.
Cliff and the Shadows were never very big in America, but in the vestiges of the British Empire the sun never set on their popularity. Fans in Australia; New Zealand; South Africa; Canada and beyond bought their records in huge numbers with the same fervour we in Britain did. Neil Young was a Shadows fan in early 60s Canada and his song “From Hank To Hendrix” from the 1992 album Harvest Moon refers to Marvin or Williams, or both.
There can be no greater accolade than
becoming the subject of cockney rhyming slang, but Hank achieved it in 2012
when “You must be Hank Marvin” went into the language as a rhyme for “Starving”
following a wonderful TV ad for Mattessons sausages. I even heard the expression used on a 2025 episode of long running TV soap Coronation Street.
Norrie Paramor
“Cliff Sings…and he certainly
does!” So runs the opening line of
Norrie Paramor’s sleeve notes giving the listener some idea what’s in store, as
if the front cover photo hadn’t already provided a clue what to expect.
Norrie Paramor was EMI’s most
successful producer of the 50s/60s. He
worked on nearly all of Cliff and the Shadows records, along with hits by Frank
Ifield, Helen Shapiro, Billy Fury and countless others. Paramor and George
Martin – his opposite number (and nemesis) at EMI sister label Parlophone –
jointly held the record for having produced the most UK Number 1 hit singles
until 1997 when Martin nudged ahead with "Candle in the Wind 97" for
Sir Elton John, 18 years after Paramor died.
Norrie was also a songwriter and,
using more than 30 pseudonyms, regularly placed his own songs on the B-side of
the records he produced for Columbia, thus earning himself the same royalties
as the composer of the A-side hit.
George Martin believed this practice to be unethical, and it was he who
eventually blew the whistle on Paramor.
In 1962, Norrie was the subject of the David Frost sketch "A Tribute to Norrie Paramor" on the premiere
edition of the satirical BBC TV programme That Was the Week That Was.
The skit asserted that Paramor was taking undeserved songwriting credits and
royalties, and it was generally assumed that Frost got his information from
Martin.
It was this antipathy to their star
producer, plus George’s adulterous affair with his secretary (later his second
wife Judy Lockhart Smith), which led EMI to pressure Martin to sign the Beatles
to Parlophone, by way of retribution. The chain of events was a little more complicated
than this but for the full story refer to Mark Lewisohn’s 2013 book All
These Years Vol.1.
When the Beatles arrived, tastes changed, and I became a little self-conscious about my Cliff records. So, I hid them away in a cupboard out of sight, lest visiting school pals (or, even worse, girlfriends) saw them and deemed me to be uncool. But significantly, I refused to part with them, even in the swinging 60s when obsessing over Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart or the Incredible String Band. But then, when the 70s arrived it seemed OK to bring them out again.
Cliff will never be cool, that ship sailed decades ago. But 60 years or more after the event, his early poptastic singles with the Shadows such as "The Young Ones," "Summer Holiday," "On the Beach," "In the Country" and others still sound fresh, vital and eminently listenable. As for Hank and the Shadows, their early records are bulletproof and timeless. I've included a handful of their best loved work on this Spotify playlist.
Track Listing
By the time his second album hit
the shops Cliff had already chalked up six top 20 hits including two number
ones. None of those early hits appeared on the LP, however. That’s not how they
did things back then. Not in Britain, at least.
Recorded in July 1959, all 16
tracks on Cliff Sings were previously unreleased, and each side of eight cuts followed the
same formula. Starting with four
up-tempo rock & roll/pop songs backed by the Shadows followed by four easy
listening standards with the Norrie Paramor Strings. Shadows drummer Tony Meehan also played on
some of the orchestral tracks as a session man.
Side One
1. Blue Suede Shoes
Written and recorded in 1955 by
Carl Perkins. A year later Elvis immortalised it as the opening track of his
first LP. Taken faster than both the Elvis and Carl Perkins versions, Cliff’s
recording employed an extra beat in the intro which Elvis omitted, so is closer to
the Perkins version in that respect, although at just 1:46, it is shorter than
both.
Perkins’ record became the first
million-selling country song to cross over to both the rhythm and blues and pop
charts. Today Paul McCartney owns the
rights to the Carl Perkins song catalogue, including “Blue Suede Shoes.”
2. The Snake and the Bookworm
There are only four known
recordings of this Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman novelty song. The first came in early 1959 by obscure US
artist Pat Shannon and this was followed within months by Richard Barrett’s
version. In 1962 (as Richie Barrett) he recorded “Some Other Guy” a song much beloved by Merseybeat groups, including The Beatles during their early days. In
fact, the first recorded film footage of The Beatles shows them performing
“Some Other Guy” at the Cavern.
The Cliff Sings
version of “The Snake and the Bookworm” arrived almost a year
before the Coasters tackled it on the B-side of their single “Shoppin’ for
Clothes.” Recorded with an infectious Bo Diddley beat and featuring some tasty
guitar licks from Hank, Cliff’s recording is the pick of the bunch.
3. I Gotta Know
Written by Paul Evans and Matt
Williams, Cliff gave us the world premiere recording of “I Gotta Know.” A year
later Elvis covered it on the B-side of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” (with some
quite bizarre backing vocals by the Jordanaires) and in 1962 Bobby Vee included
it on the album Bobby Vee Meets the Crickets. But Cliff got there first with his country
flavoured version. Hank shines again
with his distinctive whammy bar fills.
Paul Evans is probably best known
for his 1959 hit “Seven Little Girls Sitting In the Back Seat” (which he didn’t
write), plus “Roses Are Red (My Love)” and “When” (which he did).
4. Here Comes Summer
Jerry Keller’s recording of his
self-penned “Here Comes Summer” reached number one in the UK singles charts
only weeks before Cliff Sings was released. It was Keller’s only
British hit although he went on to major success as a writer of film
soundtracks and TV jingles.
Cliff’s version is just as
lightweight as the original, but Keller’s recording suffers from some intrusive
backing vocals. Many versions followed,
including a Beach Boys-flavoured recording by the Dave Clark Five in 1970.
5. I’ll String Along With You
Written by Harry Warren and Al
Dubin, this song originated in the 1934 film, 20 Million Sweethearts
where it was sung by Dick Powell and Ginger Rogers. The first record release was also
in 1934 by Ted Fio Rito and His Orchestra. Since then, there have been
countless versions ranging from Max Bygraves to B.B.King and Coleman Hawkins to
Don Estelle. Almost all of them omitted the introductory verse as heard in the
film. These introductions were commonplace in pre-war songs, and the opening
verses had little in common with the familiar tune itself. The Beatles tried to
revive the practice with songs such as “If I Fell” and “Honey Pie” which had
opening verses which were not repeated during the song.
6. Embraceable You
“Embraceable You” was written by
George and Ira Gershwin for the 1930 stage musical Girl Crazy
where it was sung by Ginger Rogers. Making her stage debut, Ethel Murman also
appeared in Girl Crazy singing “I Got Rhythm.” No less than three
film adaptations followed in 1932, 1945 and 1954, plus several stage revivals
in later years. “Embraceable You” became a jazz standard with dozens (if not
hundreds) of versions, including one by Billie Holiday in 1944.
7. As Time Goes By
One of the most important songs of
the 20th century and probably the only one recorded by Bob Dylan, Bryan Ferry
and Cliff Richard. Written in 1931, it achieved immortality in the 1942 film Casablanca
where it was performed by (“play it again, Sam”) Dooley Wilson. Composer Harold
Hupfield (1854-1951) wrote many songs but none of them has endured like “As
Time Goes By.”
Although it must be said, Hupfield also gave us the
wonderfully titled “When Yuba Plays the Rumba on the Tuba Down in Cuba.” Dating
from 1931, this novelty foxtrot was hugely popular on both sides of the
Atlantic with notable versions by Rudy Vallee (1931) and Billy Cotton and his
Band (1932). I first heard it by Bonzo Dog Band sax player Roger Ruskin Spear
on his 1973 album Unusual.
8. The Touch Of Your Lips
Written by New York-based
Englishman Ray Noble, this song dates from 1936 with early versions by Al
Bowlly and Bing Crosby. Noble also gave us the standards “Love Is the Sweetest
Thing,” “Goodnight, Sweetheart” and “The Very Thought of You.”
Side Two
1. Twenty Flight Rock
Written by Nelda “Ned” Fairchild
and Eddie Cochran, this song first appeared in the 1956 rock & roll movie The
Girl Can’t Help It and it was a hit single for Eddie the following
year. If Cliff’s vocal lacked the fire of the original, Hank Marvin saved the
day with a masterful guitar solo. Both versions are the same length, running
out at a brief 1:45.
On July 6, 1957, the 15-year-old Paul
McCartney played this song to impress John Lennon at their first meeting at the
Woolton Village fete. As history tells us, Paul knew all the words and was
henceforth invited to join the Quarrymen.
2. Pointed Toe Shoes
Perhaps
the most obscure song on Cliff Sings. This rockabilly number was first released as a
single by Carl Perkins in April 1959, so was still current when Cliff covered
it. Inevitably, Carl also slipped in a reference to his “Blue Suede Shoes.”
3. Mean Woman Blues
Claude Demetrius wrote several
classic rock & roll songs (“Hard Headed Woman” and “I Was the One” among
them), but this could be his best. First recorded by Elvis in 1957 for the film
and album Loving You, it reached #11 on the Billboard
chart when released as a single.
In 1963 Roy Orbison took “Mean
Woman Blues” back into the charts on the B-side of his single “Blue Bayou.”
4. I’m Walking
This Fats Domino/Dave Bartholomew medium
paced rocker was a 1957 R&B hit for The Fat Man. Later the same year Ricky
Nelson covered it on the B-side of his debut single “A Teenager’s Romance.” It
was a big hit, launching Nelson’s musical career. While Domino’s original was
dominated by Herbert Hardesty’s saxophone which takes up a quarter of the two-minute
song, it’s the guitar of James Burton which steals the show on Ricky’s cover. Cliff’s
version stays true to the Nelson recording and Hank plays a blinder yet again.
5. I Don’t Know Why (I Just Do)
Another pre-war
standard, with innumerable versions over the years ranging from Frank Sinatra
(1945) to Country Joe McDonald (1973). In 1927 Lyricist Roy Turk wrote the
words for “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” 33 years later it was a massive hit for
Elvis.
6. Little Things Mean A Lot
A huge US hit for Kitty Kallan; Billboard
ranked this the top song of 1954. Alma Cogan scored a UK top 20 hit with it in
the same year.
7. Somewhere Along The Way
Dating from 1952, this one was
written by Jimmy Van Huesen (under the pseudonym Kurt Adams) and Sammy Gallop.
Like most of these pre-rock & roll ballads, it has been covered countless
times by big name artists, most notably by Bob Dylan on his 2017 album Triplicate.
8. That’s My Desire
Yet another much-covered song
dating back to 1931, with a big hit version by Frankie Laine (1946). Later pop
recordings included Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis, The Hollies and even, in
1961, The Shadows. It was a popular song with 50s doo wop groups with versions
by the Flamingos, Dion & the Belmonts and the Channels. Eddie Cochran
recorded it in 1956, but his version wasn’t released until 1962 in the UK and
even later in America.