Part One – 1950s & 60s

The song was written in the 1930s and featured in the film The Wizard of Oz. It is, of course, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, performed very ably by a 17-year-old Judy Garland. All kudos to her, but another singer took the song to a whole other level.

Terry Wogan told me about her, and I fell in love with her too. This version was performed in January 1996, when the singer was 32. In June, she was diagnosed with melanoma and died in November of the same year—a tragedy, since she could have shared so much more.

The singer in question is Eva Cassidy, and her rendition is, in my view, a masterpiece.

Well, it could all be downhill from now on except it’s not. At the age of 10, I saw the film Carousel, which was a sad film but showed off the songwriting prowess of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Again, I am not presenting the original version but a cover by the wondrous Barbra Streisand.

Another film musical in 1956 was High Society. At the age of 10, I was entranced by the film goddess that was Grace Kelly. The music written by Cole Porter was also great, and I particularly liked I Love You Samantha.

Here is another version of the same song just a few years later when I was into British traditional jazz bands. This one by Kenny Ball is happy music—musical caffeine!

Love this track by another great band, Acker Bilk.

Regretfully, I never became a musician. I had piano lessons, I could strum on a guitar, and as a youngster, I was taught to play a cornet—a sweeter cousin of the trumpet. I joined the Salvation Army at 7 years old, and my only claim to fame was playing with a band at the Albert Hall at the age of 21. Only problem was, I was never any good. However, I like to think I did develop an appreciation of the musical prowess of others.

This last track by the Grimethorpe Colliery Band (who featured in the film Brassed Off) is simply beautiful, and I would like it played at my funeral. The tone of the cornettist at the beginning is sublime. It reminds me of how wondrous it felt to play in a band and try to do justice to the beauty of the music.

For me, the standout artist of that era was Buddy Holly. His life was short-lived as he died in 1959 in a plane crash at the age of 22. In the two years before he died, he wrote 40 songs, mostly upbeat and infectious. I think this particular track was maybe the first record I ever bought.

Holly could also write melodic ballads, one of the best being True Love Ways. The next track is one of these, but performed by Albert Lee, who was well known for his guitar playing but here he was singing. We shall meet Albert again later on.

No child should be exposed to the voice of the next artist. It's almost child abuse. The singer in question is Little Richard, and I loved him. What's interesting is the use of four saxophones on this track. I think rock 'n' roll rescued the sax from the clutches of the Glenn Miller dance bands of the forties and, because of its feisty sound, found a new home. It wasn't till decades later that I realised just how much I loved the sax, as you will see from my future song choices.

While Little Richard lived until 2020, the next singer, Eddie Cochran, only lived for 21 years and died in a car crash. This song is a classic typical of the era and one I never tired of. It brings us out of the fifties into 1960.

This track by The Drifters is an iconic recording which never seems to age—64 years old now. Where has the time gone? The lyricist of Save the Last Dance for Me was a guy called Doc Pomus, who had contracted polio in childhood and was confined as an adult to a wheelchair. He was inspired to write the song on his wedding day whilst watching his new bride dance with other men. His marriage only lasted for nine years, but its legacy was this great song.

The last track of this segment is by a favourite singer of mine, Dion, who is still alive and singing in his 80s, having reinvented himself as a blues singer. Another classic—and there's also a sax!

At the age of 14, I first heard a young blind black man from the American South singing Georgia on My Mind, and I was entranced (and have continued to be so for the past 64 years). So much so that at 15, I began an annual pilgrimage from Leicester to London to attend a two-hour concert in a trance. No other musical experience has matched this intensity. Logic cannot explain why Ray Charles had such an effect on me. I can only surmise that the music was some kind of balm to my troubled adolescent psyche, as the lyrics were more often than not about pain and loss. The first track is typical of those early days.

This next one reached No. 1 in the UK singles charts. I've chosen a version recorded around 36 years later and seven years before he died. I like older gravelly voices, and this fits the bill.

I made an effort to appreciate another icon of this era, Frank Sinatra, because he certainly could sing, and his phrasing was immaculate. However, I could not engage emotionally in the way I could with other singers of a similar ilk—e.g., Nat King Cole, Bobby Darin, or the next singer, Tony Bennett. Give Tony a great song like this one, and he could take it to new heights.

At this time, the Americans were at the forefront of the musical revolution, none more so than the Beach Boys. I particularly liked this early track. A more recent version fronted by the British group Status Quo brought it to life—music on steroids.

Lastly for today, another favourite singer who could turn any genre of music into a great listen, until he died at 37, was Bobby Darin.

October 1962 saw the first single release by a new English band, which did not do well and in which I had no interest. The same went for their second release. The third single, She Loves You, was an altogether different kettle of fish. The band exploded into the biggest musical phenomenon ever seen, all over the world. In April 1964, the band, in the US Top 100, had the top five singles, with a further seven tracks in the top 100. They had 17 number ones in the UK during the sixties.

I was a huge Beatles fan, and when I heard they were coming to Leicester, I queued with friends on the pavement all night to get a ticket (computers had not been invented then). The show was a washout, as the only sound that could be heard was girls screaming! Later, they brought out a track called Strawberry Fields Forever, based around a Liverpool children’s home that they used to hang around. I actually stayed there overnight, but that’s another story!

I had a problem choosing tracks. I finally settled on two, plus one cover. This one still feels fresh and full of vitality, with John Lennon as the lead singer.

The next track features Paul McCartney on vocals. Many of the early songs Paul wrote were about his girlfriend, Jane Asher, who features in this video. Most teenage boys were also in love with her—I was no exception!

Usually, the Beatles’ versions of their own songs were superior to any cover versions. This next song is a rare exception, in my opinion. Soul singer Wilson Pickett was coerced into recording this by Duane Allman, a young guitarist considered one of the best in the business. Duane was yet another talent whose life was cut short at 24 in a motorcycle accident. This track should come with a trigger warning, as there is some heavy-duty soulful screaming that will frighten the horses. I love it and turn it up till my ears bleed. Listen out for the saxes!

Bands were springing up all over northern England, trying to emulate the Beatles, with southern England trying to catch up. This next group, from Newcastle, had a very striking lead singer, Eric Burdon, plus a very talented organist, Alan Price, who later had a successful career as a solo performer. I present The House of the Rising Sun.

The only group to rival the Beatles’ popularity—and who are still performing to this day—were The Rolling Stones. Honky Tonk Women almost got the nod here but was just pipped by this track. More sax!

The summer of 1967 saw the release of this song, which I adored almost guiltily because it eclipsed the Beatles. If you were to ask me to choose my favourite song of all time, it would be a hard choice, but this one would be in the running. This particular live version from 2006 I consider to be an epic performance, with orchestra and choir. The vocalist, Gary Brooker, was 61 when he re-recorded this, and his voice is just as good, if not better, than in 1967.

An interesting footnote is that the band’s lyricist, Keith Reid, was the son of a Holocaust survivor. He, Keith, was raised in Welwyn Garden City and attended Sir Fred’s secondary school. He wrote wondrous surreal lyrics, while Brooker provided the music. Another track from the same concert is A Salty Dog, and it is just as good, in my not-so-humble opinion.

All good things must come to an end as, with this episode, we say goodbye to the sixties.

It seemed as though the UK ruled the world musically through this decade, but there was plenty going on across the pond.

If you were looking for a short sad song about homelessness, then you have come to the right place. The Beatles had a friend, Harry Nilsson, who had some big hits in the US and UK. In 1968 this mournful little ditty was released but only on an album. Loved it to bits and still do.

This next track was written by a young singer out of the American folk tradition and who came to prominence in the early sixties. He is now considered one of the best songwriters of all time, and I cannot disagree with that. He was a real revolutionary who had such early hits as Blowing in the Wind and Mr Tambourine Man as well as this next track. After just a few years, he switched to electric guitars. Allegedly, he was inspired to go electric after hearing the Animals sing The House of the Rising Sun. Fans were very upset by this, but it paid off as he became a major musical figure of both the 20th and 21st centuries. After all that, I am not going to include Bob Dylan's own recordings as I wasn't a great fan of his vocals.

Fortunately, there just happened to be a folk trio who I adored and who specialised in recording Dylan's songs. The harmonies of Peter, Paul and Mary and acoustic guitar fingerpicking are just exemplary.

1959 saw the creation in Detroit of a new record label called Tamla Motown, which featured the best black artists of the time, such as The Supremes, Marvin Gaye, The Four Tops and Stevie Wonder. I didn't choose any of these.

I played this next track to death. It’s by Brenda Holloway and called Every Little Bit Hurts. I'm sorry about this, but I do enjoy these melancholic tales of lost love!
Bear with me, they're not all miserable.

There were some superb groups out of Motown, either male or female only. Never mixed and no, I don't know why. The Supremes, with the wondrous Diana Ross, had 17 number 1 hits, but I shall not play any of them even though they were great pop songs. However, I did enjoy another girl group called The Chiffons and Sweet Talkin' Guy.

I don't recall when or where I first heard this next song, but I can recall the effect it had on me. It was an OMG moment. I had not heard anything like it before from a female singer. Awesome, not to mention the sultry sax.

Ladies and gentlemen, herewith, the incredible Nina Simone.

Like Dylan, the next duo started out as folk singers who became an incredibly huge success and went by their own names, Simon and Garfunkel. Glorious harmonies and the songwriting skills of Paul Simon. This is my favourite track of theirs.

Last but not least, we have to return to the Beach Boys and their giant of an album *Pet Sounds*. They were highly regarded by the Beatles and enjoyed a rivalry, each group wanting to better their rivals' last album. I suppose the standout single from *Pet Sounds* was *God Only Knows*, but this track is my favourite.