Wrestle Poodles and Win! The Bonzo Dog Band - All Their Albums

by Stuart Penney

Despite an almost 60-year fascination with the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band I saw them in concert only once. The date was October 29, 1967, barely a week after their debut album Gorilla was released. The venue was Brian Epstein's Saville Theatre down at the unfashionable end of Shaftesbury Avenue. 

Together with soul / mod cult favourites The Action, the Bonzos were part of an oddly mismatched bill supporting Cream, who were then possibly the world's biggest live band. The compere was, as ever, John Peel and the tickets cost between 7s/6d (37½p) and one whole pound. Did I also mention it was a rainy Sunday night in Soho?

With no fewer than five (count 'em!) military grade 100w double Marshall stacks dominating their backline, Cream delivered a punishingly loud set of magnificent heavy blues rock. They had recently returned from a triumphant US tour, Clapton's Hendrix-inspired perm was as huge as it would ever get, Disraeli Gears was just weeks away from release, and the trio was firing on all cylinders. To paraphrase the great George Clinton and Parliament, Eric, Jack and Ginger absolutely tore the roof off the sucker. 

As for the Bonzos. Although not a huge venue, the 1400-seat Saville was perhaps a little too large to present their wild and crazy antics to best advantage. Their anarchic stage act, involving miscellaneous props, life-size dolls, explosions, hand-held speech bubbles and musical instruments of every description was probably best experienced close-up and personal in an intimate club setting or student union hall. Nevertheless, it was a captivating show, the like of which I'd never seen. There was musical order amid the Bonzos' comedic chaos and I'm proud (if not a little smug) to say I witnessed this early performance by one of the most beloved and legendary British bands of the late 60s. 

A glowing Melody Maker review (credited to Nick Jones and Chris Welch) said this: "The Bonzos proved a wild success before a predominately Cream audience. From an uncertain start as the fans got to grips with the heady mixture of satire, vaudeville and musical anarchy, they concluded a superb performance to cheers, applause and three curtain calls. 

"Legs Larry Smith caused a sensation by picking up a member of the audience who shouted "Rubbish! - Get off!" from a box and hurling him onto the stage. The crowd gasped, then roared as the "heckler" broke into pieces and proved to be a clever fake.

"The jokes were endless, exhausting and impossible to describe. All hail to Vivian Stanshall, Sam Spoons, Rodney Slater, Roger Ruskin Spear, Neil Innes and Vernon Dudley Bowhay-Nowell. Gentlemen, you are the toast of all London."

Just a few days later I went out and bought a mono copy of Gorilla and was gratified to find the entire album was just as joyous as the Saville concert had been. From that moment I was hooked and anticipated each new Bonzos' release with an eagerness previously reserved only for the likes of Dylan, the Stones or the Beatles. Yes, they were that good.

They were arguably the closest thing we had to Frank Zappa and the Mothers at that time. But while Zappa was unfailingly cynical, sneering and often downright nasty (in the most entertaining way possible, of course), the Bonzos were quintessentially English - loveable, eccentric and foppish, yet always hilarious with a satirical edge. Although existing gloriously outside the orthodoxy of mainstream rock, they were all fine musicians and while the line-up frequently changed, the heart and soul of the band was always Vivian Stanshall and Neil Innes who appeared on every album and between them wrote most of the original songs.

They gave us five good-to-brilliant albums, plus a few worthwhile compilations and oddball singles before breaking up (for the second time) and going their separate ways in 1974. There was a brief reunion in 1988, and we’ve seen solo projects galore, mostly from Neil and Viv, some of which were wildly successful (The Rutles and Tubular Bells), others not so much (Teddy Boys Don't Knit). But, big sellers or not, all the post-split records contained something of interest. 

In 2006 there was another reunion with assorted big-name celebs from the comedy world such as Stephen Fry, Phill Jupitus and Adrian Edmondson standing in for Viv (who died in 1995). But there could only ever be one Vivian Stanshall and, great fun though the reunifications were, they just didn't have the same magic. Comedian Bill Bailey, who was actually born in the town of Keynsham (see below), was also involved in the Bonzos tribute concerts.

After decades of CD reissues and repackages, late 2024 saw the career defining 20-disc / 350-track box set Still Barking. Containing all the albums (mono and stereo where applicable), singles, demos, BBC sessions and much more, it was surely the ultimate collection of their work and the last word on all things Bonzo Dog Band related. 

Here, in vague release order, is an overview of those original albums, including some essential compilations from the early 70s.

The Alberts, The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, The Temperance Seven 

Starline SRS 5151 (1973)

Yes, that really was the somewhat unimaginative title of this album issued on EMI's budget Starline label. There are only four Bonzos tracks here – the A & B sides of their long-deleted 1966 Parlophone singles – but for many years this was the only place they could be found (and it was the first time these tracks appeared in stereo, too).

Recorded at Abbey Road studios at the same time as the Beatles were working on Revolver just along the corridor, this close encounter with the Fabs galvanised the group (and Neil Innes in particular) into moving away from the vintage 20s and 30s novelty jazz oldies which had been the cornerstone of their repertoire and start writing their own more contemporary material.

The cover photo shows the Bonzos as a nine-piece outfit (a nonet?) but before long this would be trimmed back to a more manageable five or six members.

My Brother Makes the Noises for the Talkies / I’m Gonna Bring A Watermelon To My Gal Tonight (Parlophone R5430)

Alley Oop / Button Up Your Overcoat (Parlophone R5499)

In 1973 after the Bonzos had split, EMI reissued the four songs on this mid-price compilation, together with tracks by The Alberts and The Temperance Seven. 

“My Brother Makes the Noises for the Talkies” is perhaps the strongest of the four cuts here. There are many versions of this song, but the 1931 recording by Albert Whelan is closest to the Bonzos’ record, sound effects and all. This is typical of the pre-war jazz / music hall / vaudeville material they were playing in the early years, much of it unearthed on old 78rpm singles bought for pennies at flea markets.

Loaded with low key innuendo, “I’m Gonna Bring a Watermelon to My Gal Tonight” was somewhat risqué when it first appeared in 1924. The original by US novelty duo Billy Jones and Ernest Hare contained an introduction plus some verses not heard on the Bonzos’ recording, who seemingly based their version on a record (also from 1924) by UK outfit the Savoy Havana Band. It was here they heard the immortal line “Tonight I’m gonna bring a rope and she can hang herself.”

“Alley Oop” had been a 1960 US #1 novelty hit for the Hollywood Argyles (#24 in the UK) and was later covered by the Beach Boys and others. The song was written in 1957 by Dallas Frazier whose name was misspelled "Fozier" on the Parlophone label credit (right). White label promos showed the song title spelled French style as "Allez Oop" while stock copies corrected this. In his 1971 Hunky Dory track “Life on Mars?” David Bowie quoted from the original song with the line “Look at those cavemen go.”

Written by the formidable songwriting team of Ray Henderson, Buddy DeSylva & Lew Brown, “Button Up Your Overcoat” dates from the prohibition era when it was recorded by Ruth Etting in 1928. The following year it was a huge hit for Helen Kane, who was thought to be the inspiration for the cartoon character Betty Boop with her “Boop boop a doop” catchphrase.

In later years these four recordings turned up on the Bonzos' 1992 Cornology 3 CD box set collection (along with solo cuts from Viv, Neil and Roger) and were later added to the 2007 Gorilla CD reissue as bonus tracks.

Also in 2007 came the 27-track CD Songs the Bonzo Dog Band Taught Us - A Pre-History of the Bonzos (Lightning Tree LIGHT FLASH CD 007). It contained original 1920s and 30s versions of songs recorded (or covered live) by the Bonzos, including some tackled by Roger Ruskin Spear on his solo albums. Here are early recordings of "Jollity Farm," "Mickey's Son and Daughter," "I'm Gonna Bring a Watermelon to My Gal Tonight," "Hunting Tigers Out in Indiah (Yah)" and many more pre-war gems.

As for the other bands on the Starline album: the Temperance Seven were a successful singles act with "You're Driving Me Crazy" (George Martin's first #1 hit as a producer) and "Pasadena" (#4) charting during the trad-jazz revival era of the early 60s. Their early records featured "Whispering" Paul McDowell on vocals while Ted Wood (elder brother of Ronnie) took over for later incarnations of the band when they were known as the New Temperance Seven. 

The Alberts included among their number a certain Bruce Lacey, inventor and performance artist. Fairport Convention incorporated his robots as sound effects on their 1968 album What We Did On Our Holidays, specifically on the track "Mr. Lacey." He also appeared as George Harrison's flute playing gardener in the Beatles' film Help! 

Gorilla

Liberty LBL 83056 (mono) / Liberty LBS 83056 (stereo), (October 1967)

Arriving two months before their career-boosting appearance in the Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour film, where they performed “Death Cab for Cutie,” Gorilla immediately established the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band as the critics’ darlings and a much-loved draw on the underground club and college circuit.

Their profile was further increased in 1968 when they became the resident band on Thames TV’s Do Not Adjust Your Set (a teatime kids' show also watched by adults in the know) alongside future Monty Python members Michael Palin, Eric Idle, Terry Jones and Terry Gillian.

There are delights aplenty here, including “Equestrian Statue” (their first Liberty single), “I’m Bored,” “Jazz, Delicious Hot, Disgusting Cold” (in which the band members played each other's instruments) and “Jollity Farm.”

It’s all tremendous stuff, but the chucklesome “The Intro and the Outro,” surely the most quoted song in the entire Bonzos’ catalogue, outshines all else.

Producer Gerry Bron (who also managed the Bonzos) was the elder brother of actress and satirist Eleanor Bron who appeared alongside the Beatles in Help! Gerry was part of the famous Bron’s music publishing dynasty, and he went on to launch the Bronze record label, signing Uriah Heep, Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, Colosseum etc.

In the late 1990s “Death Cab For Cutie” was adopted as the name of a US band fronted by Ben Gibbard. 

The title (if not the song) “Cool Britannia” was picked up again to reflect all that was good about Britain and Britpop during the Blair era of the 90s. 

Record Collecting Notes:

Original LPs came with a 12-page booklet insert.

Gorilla was reissued in November 1970 on Liberty’s budget Sunset label with a yellow sleeve (showing the now shorter band name, minus the "Doo-Dah"), then again in 1980 on United Artists’ Pop File series, this time with a black sleeve.

The US version omitted the track “Big Shot.”

The 2007 CD contained seven bonus tracks

Obscure Reference: the line “This is boredom you can afford from Cyril Bored” in “I’m Bored” references a popular 60s TV ad theme song for the Lancashire carpet manufacturer Cyril Lord.

Most quotable lyric: “And, looking very relaxed, Adolf Hitler on Vibes. Niiice!” (from “The Intro and the Outro.”) or “Hey, you have the same trouble with your trousers as I do” (from “Narcissus”)

Highlights: “The Intro and the Outro” and “Jazz, Delicious Hot, Disgusting Cold” 

The Doughnut in Granny’s Greenhouse

Liberty LBL 83158E (mono) / Liberty LBS 83158E (stereo) (December 1968)

The name now shortened to the Bonzo Dog Band (on the sleeve, if not the labels), the second album saw a departure from their vaudeville and jazz roots into full blown rock and psychedelia, albeit with plenty of darkly surreal comedy. 

All tracks were written by Neil Innes and Vivian Stanshall this time and the “Granny’s Greenhouse” title sprang from a Michael Palin joke referring to an outside privy. I’ll leave the "doughnut" part to your imagination. The Rutles may have been some years in the future, but “Hello Mabel” sounded like it could have come directly from the pen of Paul McCartney around the time of “Your Mother Should Know.”

This and the follow-up album Tadpoles were produced by the esteemed Gus Dudgeon who worked with virtually every British artist of note in the late 60s and 70s including Elton John and David Bowie. Gus also engineered everyone’s favourite electric blues record, the 1966 Mayall / Clapton “Beano Album” so he’s forever OK in my book.

Speaking of which, the British Blues Boom was in full flower during 1968 and the Bonzos lampooned it in fine style with “Can Blue Men Sing the Whites.” Other highlights include “We Are Normal,” “Rhinocratic Oaths,” “The Trouser Press” and the brilliant ode to suburbia “My Pink Half of the Drainpipe.”

Under the pseudonym Apollo C. Vermouth, Paul McCartney produced “I’m the Urban Spaceman” which became the Bonzos' only hit single in October 1968. It was left off the UK album but was the opening track on the US version, which was re-titled Urban Spaceman, released in June 1969 (it was also issued on CD under that title in America).

Record Collecting Notes:

Original LPs came with a 12-page booklet insert.

It was reissued in March 1971 on Liberty’s budget Sunset label with a new sleeve (textured or glossy) and again in 1987 on the Edsel label.

Some US copies have a label misprint showing “Humanoid Boogie” as “Humanoid Googie.” 

Doughnut scraped into the UK album charts at #40 in January 1969.

The 2007 UK CD contained five bonus tracks

Obscure Reference: A few bars of “Just an Ordinary Copper” aka the Dixon of Dock Green TV theme can be heard at the start of “Rockaliser Baby.”

Most quotable lyric: “We are normal and we dig Bert Weedon.”

Highlight: “My Pink Half of the Drainpipe.”

Tadpoles

Liberty LBS 83257 (August 1969)

Tackle the toons you tapped your tootsies to on Thames TV’s “Do Not Adjust Your Set” reads the alliterative sub-heading on the front cover. And, sure enough, the third album is largely a compilation of the Bonzos’ work from said TV show on which they were the house band between December 1967 and May 1969.

While their previous album, Doughnut, consisted of entirely self-penned material, no fewer than five tracks on Tadpoles were remakes of 20s and 30s jazz / vaudeville tunes, plus an undistinguished cover of Bobby “Boris” Pickett’s 1962 hit “Monster Mash.” The older songs -- “Hunting Tigers Out In Indiah,” “By A Waterfall,” “Ali Baba’s Camel,” “Dr. Jazz” -- were uniformly excellent, however. The original material was also top notch, of course, especially the doo wop spoof “Canyons of Your Mind” (with its spectacularly egregious guitar solo) and Roger Ruskin Spear’s “Shirt” complete with chucklesome (and genuine) street interviews conducted by Viv in Willesden Green.

Record Collecting Notes:

Tadpoles reached #36 in the UK album charts in August 1969 to become the Bonzos' highest placing. 

For the first time no mono option was offered, this was released in stereo only.

The UK and US versions had slightly different track listings. Their hit single “I’m the Urban Spaceman” was included on UK pressings, but since it had already appeared on the second US album (conveniently retitled Urban Spaceman), it was replaced with “Readymades” the B-side of their follow-up single “Mr. Apollo.”

In September 1973 the UK version of Tadpoles was reissued on the budget Sunset label with a new sleeve, re-titled I’m the Urban Spaceman.

In 2007 the album appeared on CD with five bonus tracks.

The original LP sleeve had seven holes cut in the front cover located on Viv’s glasses, Larry’s eyes and Neil’s forehead. The insert card (or inner sleeve of the US version) featured multiple random images and this could be moved in and out to change the trio’s appearance.

Most quotable lyrics: “The sweet essence of giraffe” (from “Canyons of Your Mind”) and “A man's not dressed unless he's got a nice shirt on guv'nor, is he?” (from “Shirt”)

Highlights: “Canyons of Your Mind” and “Dr. Jazz” 

Keynsham

Liberty LBS 83290 (December 1969)

“Horace Batchelor, Department One, Keynsham, spelt K-E-Y-N-S-H-A-M, Keynsham, Bristol.”

Listeners to Radio Luxembourg in the late 50s and 60s were all too familiar with a certain Horace Batchelor and his "Famous Infra-Draw Method for the Treble Chance" advertisements. Punters were invited to write in for this supposedly sure-fire method of how to win big money on the football pools. Horace himself would painstakingly read out the address in his oh-so-doleful voice. 

Those ads (and Horace himself) became something of a running joke, much impersonated among younger pop fans and, with perfect timing, the Bonzos named their fourth album Keynsham in honour of the Bristol suburb where Batchelor’s company was based. Believe me, in the late 60s this was hilarious, and we were all in on the joke. 

Fittingly, the first voice we hear on the album is Horace himself intoning “I have personally won over…” at the start of the opening track “You Done My Brain In.” Then, at 0:46 secs on the same track a snatch of “In Party Mood” (aka the jaunty theme from BBC radio's “Housewives Choice”) appears. Incidentally, Horace was also name-checked on the Gorilla track “The Intro and the Outro” with the line “What a team, Zebra Kid and Horace Batchelor on percussion.”

Record Collecting Notes:

Original LPs arrived in an elaborate textured gatefold sleeve with a silver foil panel glued on the front. Designed by Viv Stanshall, of course.

It was reissued in November 1975 on Liberty’s budget Sunset label and again in 1987 on the Edsel label in a quite bizarre and very different gatefold sleeve (see left).

2007 CDs contained five bonus tracks taken from solo recordings by Viv Stanshall, Neil Innes and Roger Ruskin Spear.

Most quotable lyric: “That boozy English day at the Brighton Racecourses (The wind blew my skirt up and it frightened the horses”) (from “We Were Wrong”).

Obscure Reference: Johnny Morris (1916 – 1999) the presenter of 60s / 70s anthropomorphically inclined BBC TV programmes Animal Magic and Tales of the Riverbank is namechecked in the track “Mr Slaters’ Parrot”

Highlight: "Sport (The Odd Boy)"

Let’s Make Up and Be Friendly

United Artists UAS 29288, March 1972

They may have disbanded in 1970, but the Bonzos found themselves back together in late 1971 to record this somewhat patchy contractual obligation album. It was a case of close, but no (exploding) cigar for what proved to be their swan song.

Of the original line-up, only Viv and Neil were present, plus Denis Cowan on bass and Rodney Slater (“in spirit”). The redoubtable Bubs White played lead guitar, while big names from the rock world - Andy Roberts (fiddle, mandolin, guitar), Tony Kaye (keys), Hughie Flint (drums) and Dick Parry (sax) – comprised the main band. Veterans Roger Ruskin Spear and “Legs” Larry Smith were featured here and there, but mostly on the older bonus CD tracks.

Showcasing a more contemporary rock sound than the earlier albums, there’s still plenty of Bonzos’ humour on offer here, notably the scatological opener “The Strain,” plus “King of Scurf” and the first appearance on record of Viv’s brilliant and timeless monologue “Rawlinson End.”

“Legs” Larry co-wrote “Rusty (Champion Thrust)” with ex-Yes keyboard man Tony Kaye.

The Bonzo dog cartoon puppy, from where the band took their name, was created around 1922 by George E. Studdy (1878-1948). Early pressings of Let's Make Up and Be Friendly featured a reproduction of a 1927 Studdy postcard attached to the front cover. On later pressings the Bonzo postcard was printed on the sleeve, not stuck on.

Record Collecting Notes:

It was reissued in May 1978 on the budget Sunset label with a new black sleeve.

The 2007 CD reissue featured six bonus tracks.

Most quotable lyric: “Randy has turned in on himself – no mean feat for a 40-stone man” (from “Rawlinson End”)

Highlight: “Rawlinson End”

The Best of the Bonzos

Liberty LBS 83332, August 1970

The first Bonzos’ compilation. Containing 16 tracks drawn from their first four albums, this is arguably the best overview of their early work. OK, the sleeve design wasn’t great; the label and sleeve disagreed over the album title (The Best of the Bonzo’s versus The Best of Bonzo) and let’s not even mention that glaring rogue apostrophe on the front cover (Bonzo’s).

Apart from a 1980 reissue of Gorilla, this was the final Bonzo Dog LP released on the Liberty label. Liberty was folded into parent company United Artists in 1971, after which the label disappeared completely until 1980 when UA was taken over by EMI. Liberty then re-appeared as a mainly budget reissue label.

Highlight: All of it, but “I’m The Urban Spaceman” rules supreme.

Beast Of the Bonzos

United Artists UAS-5517, July 1971

"Bonzoes"?

Despite a decent enough track listing (15 tracks drawn from the first four LPs), this US-only compilation fell at the first hurdle, misspelling the band name as "Bonzoes" on both labels. Then there’s the rather strange gatefold cover design by esteemed artist John Van Hamersveld. 

Even if you don’t know the name, I guarantee you’ve seen his work on sleeves by Jefferson Airplane, Blue Cheer, Big Brother & the Holding Company, Rolling Stones, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, The Beatles (Magical Mystery Tour US version) and countless others. The significance of a cartoon fire hydrant was not explained, however. Somewhere for the Bonzo Dog to cock its leg, perhaps?

Highlights: All of it, but especially “Canyons of Your Mind” and "The Intro and the Outro."

The History of the Bonzos

United Artists UAD-60071, April 1974

30 tracks taken from all five original albums, plus a quintet of solo oddities by Viv, Neil and Roger (but mostly Viv) make this by far the most comprehensive and desirable Bonzos’ collection of the pre-digital age.

The magnificent double set arrived in a beautiful, textured sleeve, designed to look like an ancient leather covered hardback tome, with a six-page insert of photos and press cuttings taken from Viv and Roger’s personal collections.

For reasons unknown, the US version of this album (UA LA321—H2) swapped out “Shirt” (from Tadpoles) for “Straight from My Heart” (from Let’s Make Up & Be Friendly.) Perhaps the arcane shirt references and/or the local accents didn't translate in America, who knows?

One of the most interesting, rare cuts was “Labio Dental Fricative" by Viv’s Sean Head Showband. Recorded in 1970 and featuring a sterling performance by Eric Clapton on guitar (not ukelele) it's one of the great lost Bonzos' solo tracks.

Record Collecting Notes:

This reached #41 in the UK charts in June 1974.

Highlights: Every damn track, but especially “Labio Dental Fricative"

Cornology 3-CD Box Set 1992

Harry Enfield and No Chums - Live Review

Riverside Theatre, Perth, Western Australia, November 6, 2025

Reviewed by Stuart Penney

Hard to believe it’s been 40 years since Harry Enfield first appeared on our TV screens as a fresh-faced young prodigy on Channel 4’s Saturday Live. Now a stout and balding 64-year-old in a crumpled suit, he may be the elder statesman of British comedy but he’s lost none of the comedic genius which has kept him relevant for so long.

There was plenty at stake tonight. We were told this is Enfield’s first one-man tour in four decades and also the first time he’d performed in Australia. He needn’t have worried. Perth was the just second night of a seven date Aussie tour (plus one in Singapore) and apart from a few minor technical hiccups and the odd fluffed line, the show was an absolute triumph.

Arriving onstage as our beloved King Charles III, complete with crown, Enfield’s command of voices is something to behold. He’d already appeared as Charles in the long-running Channel 4 sitcom The Windsors so the character was particularly well-honed. From there we were taken on a journey through his life via a still photo backdrop montage and just a few basic props.

A cavalcade of Harry's famous and much-loved characters arrived in roughly chronological order. There was the malapropism-prone Greek kebab shop owner Stavros; obnoxious Thatcher-era plasterer Loadsamoney; Kevin the Teenager; the Scousers; Wayne and Waynetta Slob; the wonderfully cheesy radio DJs Smashie & Nicey; the accidentally homophobic Modern Dad and the rest, with plenty of background information about how each of them was created.

There was a lovely tale of a party with George Harrison and Paul McCartney where an angry George told how Denis O’Brien, his business manager at Handmade Films, had scammed him to the tune of £16 million. As the night wore on and drink was taken, Paul and George began arguing and their calm and familiar Liverpool personae descended into Enfield’s shouty characters The Scousers with Harry trying to placate them with his “Calm down, calm down” catchphrase.

The backstory to other characters was equally fascinating. We learned how the supremely annoying Mr. “You Don’t Want to Do It Like That” was based on the grandfather of Harry’s former step-daughter Lily Allen. The man would turn up, offering pointless and unwanted advice at every opportunity, much to Harry’s chagrin. The idea for Kevin the Teenager also came from Lily’s sister.

Enfield is an absolute master of mimicry and even some incidental names who briefly came and went during the show were delivered with pinpoint accuracy. The voices of Paul Whitehouse, Ben Elton, Steve Coogan, Bob Mortimer and Rik Mayall were spot-on, even if some of them were only mentioned in passing.

Perth has a huge British population, and I’d estimate a vast proportion of the audience tonight were ex-pat Poms (or Anglophiles at the very least), so there was really no need for Enfield to “Australianise” his script in a couple of places, presumably in case the locals didn’t “get it.” For example, Aussie Prime Minister Anthony Albanese was thrown into the mix during the time-honoured “Is he a queer?” routine. Although it elicited a huge derisory cheer (as did any mention of Boris Johnson and Maggie Thatcher) it seemed tokenistic and unnecessary.

That aside, a splendid time was had by all and Harry left us in fine style by reprising his earlier tale of supporting the Stranglers during his early punk comedy years. As he vacated the stage, the Perth audience was required to sing “Fuck off, you wanker” to the tune of the Stranglers’ 1977 hit single “Peaches.” A few of the older folks didn’t seem too sure about it, but most others joined in with gusto. It’s probably safe to say the Riverside Theatre has never experienced an exit quite like this one.

Cream Chronicled - Book Review

Cream Chronicled

by Nettie Baker

Published by Wymer Publishing

Reviewed by Stuart Penney

I saw Cream in concert four times during 1967. Now, thanks to this meticulously researched book, I know the exact date of each show, the venues, and even who the support acts were, plus plenty of other valuable details I’d either forgotten, or was completely unaware of. See below for a list of my Cream gigs.

Although just a nipper during Cream’s July 1966 – November 1968 lifespan (she was born in 1960) Nettie Baker has first-hand knowledge and experience of life in the eye of the storm. She was right there from the band’s inception (as “The Cream”) in dad Ginger’s Braemar Avenue, Neasden maisonette, to their final show at the Royal Albert Hall. It goes without saying that she was also on the spot, as an adult, for the 2005 Cream reunion concerts.

Cream Chronicled is the fourth of Nettie’s books about her father and his colourful life and musical career. She also ghost-wrote Ginger’s own 2009 biography Hellraiser. In this new one she undertakes the gargantuan task of documenting every show played by arguably the greatest rock band of the late 60s.

In a scathing introduction to this latest work, she lays her cards on the table in no uncertain terms, dismissing many previous Cream books (and their writers) as “under-researched,” “muddled” and filled with “conjecture and hearsay.” She handles key events with care and accuracy, however. For instance, what really happened when Jimi Hendrix, newly arrived in England, got up to play with Cream at the London Polytechnic in Regent Street on October 1, 1966? You’ll have to read the book to find out the full story but suffice to say that although Ginger initially wasn’t too keen on Jimi sitting in with them (natch), Eric certainly wasn’t blown offstage by the newcomer as has been claimed elsewhere ad infinitum. Incidentally, we are told that Roger Waters, then a student at the Polytechnic (along with the other Pink Floyd members), was in the audience for that momentous gig.

From there we proceed day-by-day and gig-by-gig. From the tiny university and club shows in Britain to the groundbreaking and lucrative US arena tours. It’s all documented here in more detail than we’ve ever seen before.

Ginger’s fiery temper has been blamed for the band’s break-up, and the famous story of the Goodbye Cream album cover photo session makes amusing reading. According to Ginger’s book Hellraiser, the drummer attacked photographer Roger Phillips with his cane (actually a sword stick) while Clapton’s account claims it was choreographer and TV personality Lionel Blair (brought in to teach the besuited trio how to pose for the cover) who was on the receiving end of Ginger’s wrath. Nettie is constantly at pains to point out that, although others may have suffered at Baker’s hands, the band members always got along with each other just fine.

The final break-up and Farewell Concerts at London’s Royal Albert Hall are covered in great detail and although they were obviously glad to see the end of the constant touring, it seems that in the immediate aftermath of the RAH shows, Jack and Eric at least were having second thoughts about the break-up.

The book continues through to the 2005 reunion concerts in London and New York. Then an adult, Nettie fleshes out this section with some invaluable personal memories of the rehearsals, the concerts, the final break-up and subsequent recriminations.

A work of this magnitude draws from many sources, including contemporary newspaper reviews, music paper interviews, fan accounts and Nettie’s own personal archive of memories and photographs (many of which I’d never seen before).

This is probably the finest and most detailed account of the life of the band you’ll ever read. Cream were the first rock supergroup worthy of the name and their massive US arena tours paved the way for everything which followed.

If I had any criticism at all of this book, it would be the lack of an index, but you can’t have everything.

And here are the details of those four Cream concerts I attended:

• May 29, 1967 – Barbeque 67 at the Tulip Bulb Auction Hall, Spalding, Lincolnshire (with Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, The Move etc)

• July 2, 1967, at the Saville Theatre, London (with the Jeff Beck Group and John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers)

• August 13, 1967, at the 7th National Jazz & Blues Festival, Windsor (with many bands including the debut of Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac)

• October 29, 1967, at the Saville Theatre, London (with The Action and Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. Compere John Peel)

A Few Words In Defence Of Sir Cliff Richard

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. They were 10" slabs of shellac by the likes of George Formby, Bing Crosby, Johnnie Ray, Mario Lanza and Guy Mitchell which my grandma Ada would play on an ancient 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 logos and 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 Michael 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 visitors with my pre-school record spotting.

Then, in 1958, just about the time rock & roll hit Britain, an older cousin gave me a bunch 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 many 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 12" LP was (drum roll, please) Cliff Sings, the second long player 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 more than half a century, 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 singles, some of which were (and remain) excellent slabs of well-produced 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), it was 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 the early 60s he worked extensively with Georgie Fame and even produced a few John Mayall recordings. He co-produced the 1972 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 there was a time when I knew every word and guitar lick of every song. 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 labels really does look like something from a bygone era. EMI didn’t standardise the look of their three main labels - Columbia, HMV and Parlophone - until early 1963 and the old-style designs seem positively 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 19-year-old Cliff 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 shows a hint of puppy fat. In April 1962 Cliff’s “chubby appearance” was remarked upon 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. 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 of the genre 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.

In sport, Bill Shankly of Huddersfield Town took over as manager of lowly Second Division Liverpool FC in December 1959 and the last Football League games to be played on Christmas Day were held when Blackburn Rovers defeated Blackpool 1-0. Back in May, Nottingham Forest had won the FA Cup and Wolverhampton Wanderers topped the First Division, then the highest tier of English football.

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 version of “Volare” released on a 7” single in September 1958. This song started life in the Eurovision song contest of that year with the title “Nel Blu Dpinto di Blu” (translation: “In the blue, painted blue".) It came third behind winners France and runners-up Switzerland. 

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 definitive and 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 initial 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 big hit “Living Doll” in July.  The Drifters also had three tracks to themselves on the Cliff album.

Because Cliff and the Shadows came from an earlier era of showbiz to the Beatles, we assumed they must be older. They were established stars years before the Fab Four arrived, after all. But their ages are very similar. In fact, of the original line-up, all except Jet Harris were younger than John and Ringo, while Tony Meehan (born 1943) was younger than everyone except George Harrison. 

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. Brian Bennett succeeded Meehan in the Shadows, where he has remained virtually ever since. 

After Cliff jumped the shark and entered the nightmare world of Eurovision, cabaret, sappy pop, Christianity, and the occasional Billy Graham "Crusade" (Cliff's 1967 film Two A Penny was released by Graham's own World Wide Pictures), there was still Hank, of course. Hank was always there. With the possible exception of 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 UK guitarist who rose to fame in the 60s and 70s – Clapton, Beck and Page; Brian May; David Gilmour; 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 too successful in America, but in the vestiges of the British Empire the sun has 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 big Shadows fan in early 60s Canada and the "Hank" in his song “From Hank To Hendrix” from the 1992 album Harvest Moon refers to Marvin and/or Williams, both of whom inspired Neil.

Paul McCartney impersonated Hank (glasses, red Strat and all) in the video for his 1980 single "Coming Up" and there can be no greater accolade than becoming the subject of cockney rhyming slang. Hank achieved this in 2012 when “You must be Hank Marvin” went into the language as a rhyme for “Starvin'” following a TV ad for Mattessons sausages. I even heard the expression used on a 2025 episode of the aforementioned 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 of 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. 

Hard to believe now, but in 1963 Keith Richards was temporarily persuaded to drop the "s" from his surname by Rolling Stones manager Andrew Oldham. It was felt that "Richard" sounded more "pop", and would also echo the name of Cliff Richard, then the most successful solo artist in Britain. Keith reverted back to his given name of "Richards" in 1978. 

Despite an early 80s profile boost from the BBC TV comedy series The Young Ones, followed by a Comic Relief #1 hit single reworking of "Living Doll" with the cast of the show (plus Hank), not to mention a 1989 collaboration with Van Morrison, Cliff will probably never be cool again, that ship sailed decades ago. 

But 60 years or more down the track, his 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 Merman 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.” Also 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 couldn't resist slipping in a reference to his famous 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 penned 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 solo 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 favourite of 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.