It is difficult to think of an instrumental single these days reaching number one in the charts. The preference for divas with soaring voices, personalities with quirky talent and all sorts of television show specimens dominate current popular entertainment. Skilled musicians, with a few exceptions, tend to be relegated to the background. In 1960, things were a little different, especially with a group called The Shadows and a bespectacled lead guitarist called Hank Marvin.
The Shadows began life as The Drifters and were Cliff Richard’s backing group on a lengthy roll call of hit singles. But they were no slouches in their own right, especially under the direction of Marvin and co-member Bruce Welch. The Shadows enjoyed a number one hit with “Apache” in 1960 and further top spots over the next four years with “Kon-Tiki”, “Wonderful Land”, “Dance On” and “Foot Tapper”. Their golden era in chart terms was the first half of the decade, but they have played on and off around the world right to the present day.
The Thing About Hank was a thoroughly enjoyable half-hour of that clean-cut, no fuss, deceptively simple guitar playing that many kids new to rock and roll in the late 1950s and early 1960s wanted to copy. The programme featured warm words from Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page, Dire Straits’ Mark Knopfler and Roxy Music’s Phil Manzanera – all endorsing Hank as an inspiration and a true British original, and quite possibly the country’s greatest guitar player ever.
Cliff Richard popped up to fill in historical details but, for some strange reason, none of Marvin’s Shadows colleagues were featured. Whatever the reason for their non-appearances, it mattered not a jot. The musical interludes in the show illustrated beautifully why they, along with Marvin, created some of the most loved pop music of all-time.
Hank Marvin lives in Australia now and is a devoted Jehovah’s Witness, modest and charming but always a legend to a certain generation of pop music fans who imitated his bright red Fender Stratocaster with tennis rackets or air guitars all across the country.
In another genre, Rory Bremner is regarded as the great modern imitator and he popped up in a new series called Tonight. I don’t know what it is about Radio 4, but it manages somehow to squeeze the comedy out of comedy. I reckon they must have powerful suction pumps just above the doors into recording studios and. with several mighty slurps, jokes and fun are extracted from scripts before the shows make it to air.
We all know that Rory Bremner is clever, but in this series he is strictly
not funny, as clumsy, say, as a
flat-footed, amateur ballroom dancer. A few sly digs at politicians, some audience participation, a very weak supporting cast and a patchy script fail to deliver the killer blows, smart retorts and rapier wit that satire demands. It all sounded too safe and a waste of time.
This should be a golden age for the likes of Bremner. There is so much chicanery, double-dealing, lies, deceit, treachery and betrayal happening all around us in business and politics especially. He should be rising to the challenge of severely lampooning the assortment of characters that litter current affairs. He should be a Rottweiler not a Labrador, using mimicry to bite lumps out of the establishment. If anyone has the credentials and talent to do it, he has it all.
He needs to recharge his wit, sharpen his teeth and start gnawing away at party leaders’ foibles, ministerial hypocrisy and business duplicity. His country needs him more than ever. The thing about Rory is that he needs to poke around and expose whoever and whatever is lurking in the shadows.
