'The Harder They Come' with Jimmy Cliff

Here's a very special clip from 'The Harder They Come' with Jimmy Cliff joining the cast on stage - wish I'd been there that night!



That's Pinky giving Jimmy the mic. The sound's a bit odd - the cameraman was obviously standing a bit close to the guitar speaker, but it gives a good idea of the atmosphere by the end of the show. Go and see it while you can!

Skankin' Stars!

Look what I found on the Slade fan club page on Facebook! Three great stars together - Jimmy Cliff with Jim Lea and Don Powell of SLADE all skankin' away!


It looks like it's a photoshoot for something, maybe a promo for a record or somesuch. What a find - thank you to whoever posted it!

Scarey Thursday

Yesterday (Thursday) was an odd day, starting off with nearly 2 hours in hospital and finishing with a 2 hours show about Kenneth Williams (well, in part).

I expect to go into hospital next weekend for another operation for my slipped disc. Yes, it's been playing up again so this time they'll cut out the offending disc and also trim back the back-bone to create more space for the nerves to run up and down my spine. O the fun I have!

I spent nearly 2 hours yesterday morning been prodded, swabbed in intimate areas, answering the same questions several times, having 3 ECG readings and 1 x-ray, blood taken, reflexes checked ... the works! Being told to take my diabetes pills before the op, then told not to take them, then being emphatically told I had to take 'em.... o well. I'll either go into a diabetic coma or I won't.

In the evening we went to the RVT to see David Benson's show about Kenneth Williams, 'Think No Evil Of Us'. It was an odd and strangely powerful show - he's got Mr Williams down to a 't' , in all his self-obsessed singularity, but it's when he was being 'himself' that I warmed to him. His strange tales about his mother's mental health, his days at school in Brum and his mother telling him that masturbating his partner won't make babies....

Kenneth Williams is a strange character - one of the stars of yesteryear but not a nice person. He pulled good face and make nice double-entendre quips but not really someone I would've liked to meet in real life. The image and film record is much nicer. I found some of David's scenes as Kenneth quite painful, the petty jealousies, the pretentions, the faux-humour... and he had it spot on. He was so good that I found it cringe-worthy, shrinking away from the phantasm he re-creates on stage. David's tales of his youth were equally as disturbing (and singing along to 'All Things Bright And Beautiful' was most odd) but more acceptible to me at least. It reminds me how lucky I've been in my life.

I think I'd rather have the physical pain to the mental pain portrayed in the show. Ideally, I'd have neither.

"'im was 'ere but 'im disappear..." sing Pinky & Precious

I experienced the singular joy of seeing 'The Harder They Come' again tonight for the fourth time. It is a magnificent production but it's closing in a couple of weeks, so it was a fond farewell to the show.

Ivan, Pinky, Pedro, Precious, Ray Pierre, Miss Daisy, Numero Uno, Hilton and the rest of the characters start to populate the consciousness after a while - when we saw the Jamaican girl win the Olympic 100m both Chris and I imagined Pinky in that race in her white kinky boots, stopping half-way to ring the DJ and fluff up her 'fro before finishing the race and winning in record time. That's Pinky for you!

The show started at the Stratford East, transferred to the Barbican (where I first saw it) and then to the Playhouse Theatre but, from tonight's performance, you'd think it was the opening night from the energy and commitment of the entire cast. Two and a half hours (including the ganga break) of singing and dancing, with the entire cast (except Ivan) on stage for the entire time. That's pretty good going. It must be exhausting but I, for one, really appreciate it.

I've seen the show three previous times so that's three reviews already blogged, so tonight I'll give the marvellous cast a name check:

Ivan - Ivan is the Jimmy Cliff character played by Rolan Bell with wit, energy and dollops of charisma, he's got a great voice and presence. He jumps around stage like a thing possessed, singing and dancing and acting up a storm. He should go far!

Elsa - the hapless girlfriend who gets caught up in Ivan's life and dreams and problems, played by Joanna Francis, great voice and comic timing.

Pedro - rastaman and ganga farmer, ably played by Marlon King with the great skill of keeping a massive joint alight in the ganga song that ends the first half. He's got a lovely understated way of playing the character. Blessed love, Pedro.

Pinky - dancehall queen and all-round gorgeous person, played by Susan Lawson-Reynolds who also co-choreographed the show. I was disappointed to see Miss Daisy tell Pinky to pull her miniskirt further down to cover her thighs tonight and Pinky did so - so much for radical chic Pinky! Pinky is a great hero of the revolution and make-believe radio reporter. A great character!

Miss Daisy - she's Ivan's mam who left the countryside for big city Kingston and ably played by Joy Mack. My favourite bit isn't when she's grilling Ivan abouit her mother's estate, it's when she attacks the armed police with an empty rum bottle (well, you wouldn't fight off police with a full bottle!).

Hilton - oooo slimy, slimy Hilton, Mr 10%, who runs the music biz in Kingston, played to a tee by Marcus Powell, except he plays him to 90%!

Ray Pierre - the police chief played by the great Chris Tummings who has a wonderful audience participation moment in the second half while he sings Toots' 'Pressure Drop' where he calls us all 'huggly' for hiding Ivan from him. He's a scary thing on stage and is totally undone when he comes on for the encore all wreathed in smiles.

Preacher - Preacher is a scary character played by the marvellous Victor Romero Evans in an awful wig but whose eyes dart daggers at Ivan every time he's on stage throughout the play. He wants Elsa but it's never gonna happen.

Precious - the sassy Precious is Pinky's side-kick, ably played by Karlene Wray, teasing the audience and introducing us to the queen of the dancehalls, Pinky. Precious and Pinky bring the second half to life as pretend radio journalists during the hunt for Ivan.

Longa/Numero Uno - Derek Elroy plays two comic parts bring some much needed light relief to the plot, as the Preacher's gardener Longa, and as DJ Numero Uno who Pinky rings up now and then to ask for music. He's got excellent timing and a face that tells a thousand stories (just not all at the same time).

Sergeant - played by Christopher JA Murrell, a violent personage with a huge smile and voice.

Jose - drug dealer extraordinaire, played by Joe Speare (except for tonight when an understudy played the part whose name I didn't get).

Photographer - played my Matthew J Henry

Miss Brown - played by Jacqui Dubois, putting her all into the dance moves and singing and selling the most fabulous of hats!

Singer - played by Kirk Patterson.

The band is shit-hot too, playing on stage for the entire performance and afterwards as we troop out of the theatre: Perry Melius, Wayne Nunes, Darren Benjamin, Gregory Assing, Adrian McKenzie, Alan Weeks and Peter Lee. Well done chaps!

It was written by Perry Henzell and directed by Kerry Michael and Dawn Reid. They deserve massive credit for this show but it's the actors and the wonderful music I'll remember. I've said it before and I'll say it again - why isn't Jimmy Cliff a huge mega-star singer and writer outside of reggae? He's written some timeless masterpieces and they should be recognised as such.

Thank you to everyone involved in this production - it's a most wonderful night out at the theatre and I'm just puzzled about why its not sold out and running for the next year. I want a cast recording please - the choir version of 'Higher and Higher' is magnificent - and a DVD. I have the programme and the tee shirt with the legend, 'I was here, but I disappear'. That's what Ivan says when he's on the run - the hero doesn't die until the final reel of the film.

I love this show and will remember it for a long time to come... I want it to go on forever.

'Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee'

I watched the television drama, 'Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee' on More4 tonight which is, I think, the first time it's been shown on TV over here. It's the tale of the downfall of Sitting Bull and the Sioux nations in the 1870s/1880s in north America. It's based on about one chapter in Dee Brown's book of the same name so misses so much of the mass genocide of the native nations.

I read the book last year in hospital and it's a painful read. What you see in this TV drama is the least of it. It's odd in a way, to think that these characters actually lived - yes, Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse and Red Cloud were real people but they've passed into mythology. Canada treated them with respect to a degree but still deported them across the border to America. Mass genocide and broken treaties that are still in the law courts today.

Buffy Sainte-Marie delivered a powerful song of the same title back in 1992 which updates the tale of the book to include theft of land rich in uranium. Why isn't this song in the film? It would've been the perfect outro, showing that the themes of the drama continue today. But that might be a bit risky. I'll listen to Buffy, thank you.

Read the book for the full story.

The 2008 Olympics, Beijing

The Games are over for another four years and when they re-open in 2012 it will be in London. And I will be there.

I've been blogging over the last couple of weeks about the wonderful haul of medals we've won this year - congratulations to all - but there's a lot more to the Olympics. Not least the amazing Birdsnest stadium and other stadia and monuments around Beijing. From the fabulous opening ceremony to the more modest (but still dazzling) closing ceremony last night, there was a huge range of human drama, of athletes trying their best but only a few succeeding. Heartache and tears of athletes not achieving medal status, especially those who came fourth by a small margin.

The human tale of the German weightlifter who held a photo of his wife beside his gold medal at the ceremony with tears streaming down his face since his wife died in a car crash a year ago driving to see him compete. Michaela Breeze, our sole woman weightlifter who came 15th and competed nonetheless. Tom Daly, the 14 year old lad who came 7th in the diving final, not expecting to win but wanting the experience of a Games and, well, you never know, do you? India winning its first individual gold medal despite the billion population and the great distance runners from Ethiopia and Kenya. So many great tales of personal bravery played out on the international stage and with billions watching around the world. The pride of those Kenyan runners must shine like the sun on their return to Africa. The personal achievements are unimaginable to most of us, including me.

Yesterday's closing ceremony once again used the skills of China to put on a grand spectacle that we can't compete with. We need to take a different tack to stamp London and GB on the world in 2012. But not what we saw yesterday. The eight minute segment for London as part of the closure of Beijing and handing over to London was a trifle embarrassing. From Boris being the only one with an unbuttoned jacket and keep putting his hands in his pocket to Beckham in a dull (but probably expensive) tracksuit kicking a ball into the crowd, It was hardly spectacular. Since when was Leona Lewis a world-class mega-star, how many people under 30 will know who Jimmy Paige is/was and why on earth choose a 30-odd year old Led Zep song as the signature tune for London? That's not where we are today. And the bus? Why were the dancers pushing people out of the way to board it? What impression does that leave? It was ok, I suppose, and I did like the harsh sounds of the guitar riff exploding into the stadium, but the riff could've been from Oasis or Maximo Park or almost anyone still creating music rather than living in a time warp. A lost opportunity is how I think of it.

The strategy is reasonable - play up what we have to offer, the iconic monuments, the world-class mega-stars and music we've produced, the cultural icons, and all that, but make it relevant to the 21st century and where we're going, not where we've been. Look forward not back.

It was great to see the homecoming heroes touch down at Heathrow this afternoon - they deserve every honour we can give them. But why did the BBC feel it was appropriate to field their seemingly least experienced interviewers, repeating the same inane questions? It made for awful telly, only enlightened when the heroes appeared. It probably hasn't dawned on them yet what their status really is - I'm sure the 2012 people will want to use them and milk them as much as they can to whip up interest and excitement. I hope they surround themselves with trusted advisers.

I'd like to be involved in the 2012 Olympics and already have put my name down to be a volunteer. From the looks of it they won't be actively seeking volunteers until a recruitment drive in 2010. I'll be here, waiting.

'They're Playing Our Song' at The Chocolate Factory

A bank holiday Sunday and what better way than to see a little performed musical at the Menier Chocolate Factory, 'They're Playing Our Song' with Alistair McGowan and Connie Fisher. Well, actually, I can think of many other ways of spending the afternoon.

It got off to a bad start with the noise of an all-dayer open air club next door with the repetitive thump-thump-thump from an unimaginitive DJ. The Choccy Factory called in the police and Southwark Council to try to silence it for the performance since it didn't have a licence but the best they managed was to turn it down a bit my moving some speakers - better than nothing but still intrusive. So the play started late, stopped after the first scene to see if they could be persuaded to turn it down some more, and then continued. We were offered the option of leaving with a refund or a ticket for another performance, but virtually everyone stayed. It must've put the performers off quite a bit but, on the other hand, they're supposed to be professional, so suck it up and get on with it.

It was written by Neil Simon, Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager in the late 70s and then when it's set. And, for me, that sentence encompasses all it's downfalls. It's full of Simon's New York "witty repartee" that isn't really witty, littered with references to psycho-analysts and not very good accents (Connie sounded like a watered down Tyne Daly a la 'Cagney & Lacey'). And the late 70s were evoked by topical references which simply date it now and by the overdone props and awful frocks and wigs.

At one point a long curtain filled the stage as a backdrop, orange and brown circles - as soon as it appeared I was transported back to the '70s thinking of curtains in our house when I was a child except that was the early 70s, not the late 70s of the play. In the late 70s the curtains should've been purple. Because I was puzzling over whether the curtains should've been orange or purple and how large the concentric circles were on my family curtains, I missed an entire song by Connie - couldn't tell you what it was about at all. That's a bad sign.

The over-intrusive props struck again when the scene was in a recording studio in New York and one of the dancers walked on with a copy of 'Sounds' with a full page advert for The Stranglers' single, 'Walk On By' on the back - why on earth would 'Sounds' magazine be in New York? It should've been 'Rolling Stone' or something.

This probably says as much about me as it does about the play and this particular production, but if I'm focusing on props then I'm not focusing on the play or the music or the songs.

I won't bother recounting the story (you've seen it in one form or another anyway in any Neil Simon film) since unless you're a fan of the writers or stars then I won't recommend you go. There was no real sparkle, no engagement (although the thumping music in the background might explain this), no chemistry between the stars and, I'm afraid, I don't think the songs were that good really. Well, if I'm more engaged by a curtain than by one of the songs then you can make up your own mind.

I hate doing a bad review of something I've seen - the actors, musicians, director, etc etc, have all put in a lot of effort to entertain me - but this time I can't put any kind of positive spin on it. Sorry people, but it did nothing for me...

Saturday Medals

Saturday saw us win a final three medals:

James DeGale won gold in the middleweight boxing in a tense match that saw him being bitten and pulled around rather than boxed with, but he kept his cool (mostly) and won in the end.

Sarah Stevenson won our first ever Olympic taekwondo medal, a bronze in the kick-off after not getting into the final. There was a lot of drama around her when the semi-final place was originally given to the Chinese kicker and then the decision was reversed and Sarah went into the semis. She didn't look ready after all the hanging round for the appeal to be announced and lost that match, so it was good for her that she won the bronze in her final match.

Tim Brabants won his second medal of the Games, adding a bronze in the 500m K1 kayak flatwater canoe to the 1000m gold he won on Friday.

Well done to all!

Our participation in the Games ended in the wee small hours this morning with Dan Robinson coming 24th in the men's marathon. The final events are taking place this morning with sports like volleyball and rhythmic gymnastics. There are still some medals to be awarded but our haul for this Games in 47 in total, putting us in fourth place in the medal table.

Country		Gold	Silver	Bronze	Total
China		49	19	28	96
USA		34	37	36	106
Russia		21	21	28	70
Great Britain		19	13	15	47
Germany		16	10	15	41

Well done to all our medalists and to the whole team! It's been a thrill!

More Olympic Medals

I've been remiss in the last couple of days in reporting GB medals - there are so many it's difficult to keep up with them.

Gold medals go to Iain Percy and Andrew Simpson (no, not for swearing on breakfast telly) for the sailing keelboat (star class) and to Tim Brabant in the 1000m kayak competition (our first ever canoe gold).

Silver medals go to David Davies for the 10km marathon swim (it could have so easily been gold, but he seemed happy with the result since it was something like his third ever swim at that distance), to Phillips Idowu in the triple jump and to Heather Fell in the modern pentathlon.

Bronze medals go to Tony Jeffries and David Price in boxing.

Well done to all!

'Piaf' at The Donmar

Tonight I was treated by Chris to a performance of 'Piaf' at The Donmar Warehouse. I've never seen this play before and I didn't see the film last year, so I'm coming to Edith Piaf afresh.

It opened with the middle-aged Piaf coming on stage to sing at her last concert, collapsing and being picked up and whirled about by the rest of the cast as they disrobe her and re-dress her as the teenage street-singer Piaf about to be 'discovered' and the play begins, a play with music. It's a strange production in a way, with lots of changing costumes on stage, lots of movement and pace, very picaresque with one short scene rapidly following another short scene - as a whirlwind tour of Piaf's life it's ok but I think I would've preferred something a bit more measured, affording the opportunity to explore aspects of her life in more depth.

And what an interesting life she had. I don't know much about Piaf but the play has made me want to find out more. The mystique and legend she and her friends grew around her, the pain of her life, addictions, lusts and love affairs and her death at the tragically young age of 47 after too much booze and drugs and car crashes...

In part, I suspect this is a play of it's time. The frequent use of the word 'fuck', the sex scenes on stage and the scenes of Piaf shooting up before performances cry late '70s to me, the 'let's shock' brigade which at the time probably did shock - or at least came across as raw and gritty. Tonight, as I watched, I wondered whether I was getting middle aged (I am) and conservative (I hope I'm not) or whether the gratuitous sex, swearing and on-stage costume changes were essential to the performance. I don't know, but I think I feel slightly manipulated into how I respond to the play.

Big cheers must go to Elena Roger who played Piaf, transformed from drug addled woman to teenager and back in the blink of an eye, strong voice ripping up Piaf songs (in French) and keeping all eyes on her. In the latter part of the play she was perpetually bent over and walked oddly through car-crash injuries and it was a relief (to me anyway) to see her for the applause standing up straight again. The raw emotion of her performance must be incredibly tiring, night after night, so well done to her.