Books of the Year 2

From the Sunday Times, 28 November 2010, on the subject of Rejoice! Rejoice! Britain in the 1980s:

'Among a host of recent books on the 1980s, Turner's stands out as comfortably the most entertaining. From long-forgotten one-hit wonders to episodes of Hi-De-Hi!, from the antics of Ian Botham to the disasters of Heysel and Hillsborough, he gives us a panoramic portrait of a country caught beween old and new. The dominant figure is, of course, Margaret Thatcher, and Turner's political analysis is balanced and shrewd.'

If I knew then what I know now

When I wrote Crisis? What Crisis?, my book about the 1970s, I drew a comparison between the BBC TV adaptation of I, Claudius and the leadership struggle within the Labour Party following the resignation of Harold Wilson. The victor of that contest was James Callaghan, who I identified as Claudius, Old King Log, the man who came through the competing factions despite circumstances being against him.

And a couple of people reckoned that, even in a book awash with fanciful comparisons, this was a bit too fanciful.

But I've just been reading Jack Kibble-White & Steve Williams's excellent The Encyclopaedia of Classic Saturday Night Television and in their entry for Look - Mike Yarwood they mention a sketch he did called I, Callaghanus.

I don't remember that sketch. And I'm not sure whether I'm annoyed that my comparison isn't original, or pleased that my judgement is vindicated. But anyway, I wish I'd known, because I would surely have mentioned it.

Books of the Year

It's the time of year when the great and good get to nominate their books of the year in the more serious periodicals. Having never it on to any such list, I'm hugely excited by Dominic Sandbrook in the New Statesman, who names Tim Pears's Landed and Craig Brown's Lost Diaries, and adds:

'I also loved Alwyn Turner's splendid Rejoice! Rejoice! Britain in the 1980s, which not only re-creates the weird world of the Falklands war, the miners' strike, alternative comedy and the Filofax, but finds room for Mike Gatting, Zola Budd and To the Manor Born.'

Since I don't write for such august publications, I don't have the chance of reciprocation, but I would take the opportunity to say that Mr Sandbrook's State of Emergency is the only new book I've actually bought this year, which is as big a tribute as I can pay it. Normally I wait for books to turn up in charity shops, but I was keen to read his account of the Ted Heath years in Britain. And damn fine it is too.

Trash Fiction

I have to confess that I don't take the Sun every day, and consequently I often miss out on big breaking stories. So it was only when going through some old copies of the newspaper that I came across the fact that on 24 November 2006 they were kind enough to nominate my Trash Fiction as website of the week:

'A glorious celebration of those tacky exploitation paperbacks from the Sixties and Seventies, as well as TV and movie novelisations. Saucy, tasteless and truly astonishing they got published. Marvel at the covers - and that anyone bought them!'

That's very sweet of them. I shall endeavour to keep abreast of the paper more often.

Rights Statement

This is what publishers call a rights statement, and what the rest of us call a press release:

"Sam Harrison of Aurum has acquired The Man Who Invented the Daleks: The Strange Worlds of Terry Nation by Alwyn W. Turner.

"Terry Nation was one of the most successful, prolific and celebrated writers for popular television that Britain has ever produced. His science fiction series Survivors and Blake’s 7, from the late-1970s, have been durable cult and critical hits, one being re-made thirty years on and the other constantly rumoured for return, while his villainous creations the Daleks ensured, and at times eclipsed, the success of Doctor Who.

"Scheduled for Spring 2011, The Man Who Invented the Daleks will focus on Nation’s work in the 1960s and 1970s, charting a career that also saw him join the legendary Associated London Scripts, become chief writer for a troubled Tony Hancock and play a key role in hit international adventures series such as The Avengers, The Saint and The Persuaders!.

"Sam Harrison said: ‘In his acclaimed histories Crisis? What Crisis? and Rejoice! Rejoice! Alwyn has proven himself one of the most stylish and authoritative writers on British popular culture working today. In drawing together the various strands of Terry Nation’s life and career, this book will offer a captivating window onto the creative melting pot without which British television today would look very different.’

"Anyone who knew and wishes to share their memories of Terry Nation can contact the author at: alwyn@alwynwturner.com "

Harry Hammond in Leamington Spa

I was in Leamington Spa yesterday, giving a talk on the work of the great Harry Hammond. The touring exhibition of his photos from the early days of rock and roll has reached the town that Harry made his home, and very splendid it looks too. Apart from the photos, there are cases displaying Harry's cameras, brushes and other personal effects - it's wonderful.

The show is at the Royal Pump Rooms in Leamington Spa until early-September, and it's highly recommended. And to whet your appetite, here's one of Harry's photos of Jet Harris at his coolest:

The Age of Austerity

In the spirit of reviving the age of austerity, I was reading a copy of Housewife magazine from July 1948, and found some wise words from the government of the time:

If You Believe in Britain

Let's be blunt about it. Today you can betray your country by spending your money or cashing your savings unwisely.

The nation is at work, fighting a war against want. If we lose it we shall be little better off than if we had lost the war against Hitler. Until we win it our greatness as a nation and the security of our children's future cannot be established.

Every time we save less and spend more we are striking a blow against that future. Spending hampers the production drive by taking goods off the export market - and it encourages inflation.

If you believe in Britain, if you want to secure the peace we fought to win, save more, spend less.

Issued by the National Savings Committee.

Daily Mail

Roger Lewis's very generous review of Rejoice! Rejoice! has now been posted on the Daily Mail website. Looks very good.

Phone-in

As I was on my way to bed last night, I turned on Radio Five Live to hear Tony Livesey hosting a phone-in about whether pop music was better in the 1970s than it is now.

I got a little thrill when I realized that this discussion was prompted by the forthcoming V&A exhibition My Generation: The Glory Years of British Rock. Mr Livesey, it appeared, was querying whether the subtitle was accurate: were those really the glory years?

Since it was me who wrote that subtitle, for the book which accompanies the exhibition, I was somewhat surprised to find that it was in any way controversial. The phrase 'glory years of British rock' (apart from echoing the subtitle of our previous book Halfway to Paradise: The Birth of British Rock) seemed to me a fairly straightforward factual description: the decade we cover with Harry Goodwin's photos (1964-74) was self-evidently the era when British pop music had its greatest influence on the world.

It wasn't intended as a value judgement. Though as it happens, and just for the record, the decade was also quite clearly the time when most of the best British rock was produced. It won't ever be that good again.

St George's Day

This year I'm celebrating St George's Day with the help of a splendid review of Rejoice! Rejoice! by Roger Lewis in the Daily Mail. It's an 'entertaining, insightful and wide-ranging survey,' he writes. My thanks to him and to the Mail for the kind words and the splendid presentation.

Also today, my copies of the book turned up, and very fine it looks too. Should be in the shops next week.

Must Read

I've never been in the Must Read column of the Sunday Times before. So I'm dead pleased with today's paper:

Talcy Malcy RIP

What can anyone add to the millions of words that have spoken about Malcolm McLaren (most of them by himself)?

Well, maybe the one thing that doesn't get sufficient emphasis is pop music. As opposed to rock. The reason I fell in love with punk back in 1976 was nothing to do with, say, Iggy & the Stooges, of whom I knew nothing. Instead I came from a position of liking the Bay City Rollers. (Incidentally, I still reckon their fourth album is a bit of a powerpop classic, with fine production by Jimmy Ienner, who'd earlier shaped the sound of the Raspberries.)

To get back to McLaren, he was a bit fond of the Rollers as well. Indeed that was his concept of what a pop group should be, how he envisaged the Sex Pistols would turn out. Admittedly they evolved into something a bit different, thanks to the genius of Johnny Rotten, but still they made damn fine pop records: the same handful of chords you'd hear on Shang-a-Lang, the same attraction to big catchy choruses. Never really got the hang of bridges, though.

One of the joys that came with listening to the Rollers, Mud, Showaddywaddy and the rest of the post-glam pop bands of 1974-75 was that, being an ignorant kid at the time, I found it provided me with an education. They were covering songs by people like Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran, so I went back to the 1950s to listen to the originals. And I haven't stopped since. The sounds of the first wave of rock and roll remain my favourite music.

And again, when punk erupted, we found that McLaren was similarly enchanted by the '50s. His favourite reference point was the great British entrepreneur Larry Parnes, who brought us Billy Fury, Marty Wilde, Vince Eager and more. I know he dressed it all up in art school attitudes, talked about cash-from-chaos, spouted bollocks about situationism (has there ever been a sillier adolescent disorder than situationism?), but ultimately you knew that he was at heart a genuine fan of the music, that the elegant simplicity of rock and roll was as fascinating to him as the Machiavellian machinations of the industry.

At least, I think he was. But who knows? Maybe he was just a lucky bastard. After all, he was the manager of the New York Dolls who managed to split them up. He looked at Adam and the Ants, decided that he could do better than that, and sacked the singer so that he could launch Bow Wow Wow - just before Adam became the biggest pop star in the country. In between those two episodes, he lucked into discovering Johnny Rotten, who turned out to be one of the great artists of his generation, for a short while at least.

But my suspicion was that behind all the bullshit, beyond the wind-ups and gimmicks, he had a simple love of pure pop music. And so, in honour of the late Malcolm McLaren, here's a Harry Hammond photo of one of his favourite pop stars, Billy Fury: