Reliving soundtrack of my childhood as Gilbert O’Sullivan concert sparks memories
Growing up, there weren’t that many records in our house.
From memory, my parents’ album collection had some Cliff Richard, a bit of Pat Boone, The Dubliners, and a dog-eared copy of Prokofiev’s Peter And The Wolf which, I guess, was my introduction to grown up, ‘proper’ music.
One album which stood out was Gilbert O’Sullivan’s I’m A Writer Not A Fighter. I can still picture the vivid green cover with his name writ large in orange text in the bottom left hand corner.
He was one of the stalwarts of Top Of The Pops when I was a nipper. His flat cap and street urchin garb made for an under-stated entrance in a pop world of glitter, glam and platform shoes.
In a top 30 lit up by Slade, TRex, Sweet, the Bay City Rollers and Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, he was the down to earth songwriter who looked as though he’d just stepped out of his local where he played piano for tips in his jar.
I can’t say I’d given his music that much thought until about eight years ago when my wife and I were at Proms In The Park at Hyde Park where he filled the afternoon legends slot, and blew everyone away with a greatest hits set where it finally clicked just how good a songwriter he was, and is.
The day-long festival was a right mish-mash; everything from Ray Davies and a gospel choir delivering a Kinks masterclass, to Tony Blackburn’s cheese to Steps hitting all the right notes, just not necessarily in the right order; and Bonnie Tyler screeching painfully through Total Eclipse Of The Heart while hoisted 40 feet in the air in a cherry picker. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, so let’s put her ghastly vocals down to a fear of heights.
O’Sullivan eschewed any daft entrances and simply plonked himself in front of his piano. Last week, at the age of 79, he brought his tour to Edinburgh - and since his hit single ‘Matrimony’ was the song my wife and I got married to, it was only right we popped along. It still makes her greet!
Six decades on, he looked and sounded pretty much as I recalled, and a near full house relished hearing the songs he made famous all those decades ago. Looking round the hall, an audience of a certain age got swept up in the joy of live music that spoke to them about their own youth.
No-one was in danger of storming the stage - they’d have put their hip out trying to clamber up that high - and a gentle swaying was all that was needed, although a few folk were up and out of their seats for Get Down.
I love the fact that live music sparks such memories as you suddenly recall every word to the chorus of Ooh Wakka-Do-Wakka Day - a song you last gave a second thought to somewhere around 1973 - and the three fellas in front of us were up and chanting “one more song” for the obligatory encore while the bloke in our row was singing all the way down the steps and into the pub next door.
Barry Manilow celenrated writing songs that made the whole world sing. O’Sullivan never matched his global fame, but, he was a master of his craft - more than he ever got credit for - and if you can pen a tune that, 60 years on, chimes once more with folk, that’s a pretty darned good legacy.
Only question for me now is can Deep Purple also deliver on their 50th anniversary tour next month? Bet they don’t cover Ooh Wakka-Do-Wakka Day …