Ah Wop Bop a Loo Bop a Lop Bam Boom!

(from 2012)

Looking back on the many shows and performers I have seen, probably the most memorable was in the sixties, when Little Richard first came to Britain. I have my diary here – Granada Theatre, Kingston (south of London).

Little Richard – yeah. Who can forget those immortal lyrics, so full of thought and social significance – Ah wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom!

I can just imagine white American parents from the heartland in the 1950s, with teenage kids, suddenly horrified by the Devil’s music coming out of the mouth of this short black man – wearing make-up and with his hair in a huge pompadour, smashing the keys of the piano while sticking one leg on the lid.

They tried to neutralise it of course – Pat Boone of all people did a cover version of Tutti Frutti from which our title comes. One suspects that Boone, later author of the toe-curling ‘Twixt Twelve and Twenty, didn’t know the origins of the song – an extremely dirty ditty which needed to be cleaned up for recording, even for Little Richard.

Anyhow, back to my show – on comes Little Richard – and he blows the audience away. At one point when jumping up and down on top of a long-suffering piano, he suddenly faltered, and collapsed in a heap. The compere Bob Bain rushed on looking worried, “Is there a doctor in the house?” Then – from flat on his back – Gonna Tell Aunt Mary ‘Bout Uncle John – Richard was up again and away into Long Tall Sally. At one point he threw his shoes into the audience, followed by his jacket – and scuffles broke out to try and claim these sacred artefacts. (I understand that later in time, the routine involved Richard’s shirt going as well, but as I remember it, he drew the line on this occasion).

I saw Richard decades later when he was in his 70s – it was sad – but this was a magic moment for a teenager taking his first girl friend to a show.

The first half of the show was closed by Sam Cooke. It was to be his only visit to the UK. It was a strange combination – one suspects the promoters just thought in terms of two black men on the same bill. Cooke was very professional, very smooth – but he had his work cut out. This audience had come along to potentially demolish cinema seats in the spirit of Rock Around the Clock. I was probably one of the few in the audience who knew all his songs – Cooke kept on coming back to me as I sang along to every word in the third row – giving him encouragement. Like Richard, Cooke came from the gospel church background, and used to pontificate on how the Lord kept him safe during trouble. A couple of years later he was shot dead while apparently trying to batter down a woman’s door in a seedy motel after she had stolen his clothes.

The real gimmick of the show, and an even greater highlight for me, was the guest appearance of Gene Vincent. I saw all the old rockers – especially when they came to the UK after their careers faded in the States. Vincent’s live shows were probably amongst the best rock and roll ever. Even when drink had taken its toll, he gave a good show in London in 1968 that I wrote up – and which still survives (uncredited, but hey - who cares – I KNOW!) in biographies of Vincent to this day.

His work permit had expired and, so the story went, he was not allowed to work on a British stage. So he was here as a special guest artiste who sang walking along the front row of the auditorium. I didn’t question it at the time, but the story sounds rather suspect today.

He did one number before introducing “his friend Little Richard.” I can still see him now, in a black leather outfit, limping along the front (Vincent had a leg brace from a motorcycle accident, which gave him enormous ‘street cred’) hollering Be Bop a Lula. It was only when the great man got to the line, “She’s the woman in the red blue jeans,” while smashing the stand mike into the floor, that I noticed my date for the evening WASN’T WATCHING!!!  She...SHE WAS...LOOKING...BORED...AT HER PROGRAM...  Well – obviously the relationship was doomed.

I try and explain to modern generations how the show was magic – how all the wild behaviour on stage from modern rock icons was first taught by the originals – but it doesn’t make much impact. Still, I have my memories, my videos and my iPod in the car.

At times when I just don’t feel like being older and po-faced and “responsible” I can still be taken back to Wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom! 

Yeah man – rock on.