Paul Simon once suggested that every generation throws at least one hero up the pop charts. In the late 1970s one of the biggest, most popular and most successful performers undoubtedly was Adam Ant. He was flamboyant in dress and manner on stage; his songs were a melee of punk, rock and pop; and he had the personality and articulacy to engage with audiences on and off stage. He enjoyed several top 10 successes, including three British number ones – “Stand and Deliver”, “Prince Charming” and “Goody Two-Shoes”. He was big.
Matt Everitt kicked off his second series of conversations with influential musicians by talking to Ant, formerly known as Stuart Goddard, about hitting the heights of fame and fortune, and then plummeting into obscurity. It was a story, all too familiar in show business, of hero to zero, of a self-important and pampered ego deflated by excess and illness.
Adam Ant is making another attempt at a musical comeback with a new album but, unless he is very lucky for a second time, he is unlikely to make a dent in the charts, mainly because the world around him has changed and because his fans probably prefer to remember fondly his back catalogue of hits, many of which still sound fresh and vibrant. He was of his time and three decades on from his dizzying success, the odds of a comeback are stacked against him. It takes something or someone very special to stand the test of time and to endure.
There is probably no better example of that than Raymond Chandler and his private investigator Philip Marlowe. Chandler’s crime novels are classics – an overused word, but not here. The BBC has been running a series of new adaptations of The Big Sleep, Farewell, My Lovely, The Lady In The Lake and Playback (with four more to follow later in the year), all convoluted in plot but rich in sassy dialogue.
My generation immediately thinks of Humphrey Bogart as the definitive Marlowe. He is the point of reference for timing, delivery, world-weariness and toughness. Others have tried to fill his shoes, including James Garner, Elliot Gould and Robert Mitchum, all bringing their own considerable talents and credentials to bear, but never quite achieving Bogie’s gritty charm.
The common thread, regardless of the actors, has always been the strength of the writing. So, it was with trepidation that I listened to the plays starring Toby Stephens, a British actor charged with taking on the persona of an American fiction legend, accent and all. But, within minutes, I realised that Stephens was doing a remarkable job. He would never have been convincing on screen but on radio, as part of a cast of excellent supporting players, with high production values and a steady director’s hand, he nailed perfectly Marlowe’s pugnacious personality. It wasn’t Bogie, but it was more than good enough.
It was vitally important that the dramas stayed faithful to the original texts. There is a tendency for modern writers to experiment with updates, to change the emphases and remould characters to suit present day thinking and sensitivities – all dangerous options than can destroy the original atmosphere, mood and intentions. Thankfully, the BBC team resisted all unnecessary tinkering. This was radio and literature in perfect harmony.
Anyone daring to try their hand at writing private eye novels has a mountain to climb to match Raymond Chandler’s considerable output. New, non-Bogart obsessed generations would do well to set aside time to catch up with these plays, to relish the writing and to understand that, unlike several unfortunate souls in the narrative, quality literature and dramatisations never die.
