music – Maddie Grigg

David Cassidy, my pre-teen idol

In these momentous days when there is strife all over the world and things seem particularly crazy, it’s good to look back and recall memories from a carefree childhood.

Two of these came to mind this morning, when I didn’t want to see the latest nonsense in the news but had to go on to social media anyway.

The first blast from the past was in my daily music quiz, Popquizza, where I pit my wits against old friends from trainee journalist days.

Today’s theme was Number 1s from 1973.

I should have scored higher than seven out of ten, because this was my era. A time when I was getting into music of my own rather than being influenced by the (good) taste of my older siblings.

The first single I ever bought was Venus by Shocking Blue, which came out when I was eight. The second was When I’m Dead And Gone by McGuinness Flint which I got when I was nine.

And then, in 1971 when I was ten, The Partridge Family came on our televisions in the UK. I was smitten. David Cassidy had arrived.

Down came my sister’s Rory Gallagher poster and up went a picture of the beautiful, smiling David.

And low and behold, one of today’s Popquizza questions was about my early 70s idol. There was also a Donny Osmond question but I was never a Donny fan. It was David all the way, even though at that time my older brother looked a bit like him.

The show was manufactured tosh, I suppose, but I loved it and especially David Cassidy. The songs were great and he had such a lovely, breathy singing style. So I’m now down an internet rabbit hole with David Cassidy singing Could It Be Forever, just for me, in my headphones while I type.

Hearing It’s One of Those Nights (Yes Love) now, I’ve got goosebumps from my toes to the tips of my fingers. (I ought to get that seen to.) It certainly blots out the rest of the rubbish going on in the world right now.

Looking Through The Eyes of Love has just come on and I’m almost crying, as I did when David Cassidy died in 2017. He was 67, an alcoholic and died of liver failure.

David, may you rest in peace. I think I loved you.

(I’ll tell you about the second piece of nostalgic bliss later in the week.)

Good morning to the snowdrops

Saw these this morning and I just had to stop to say hello.

They didn’t respond but I think they were pleased to see me.

For some reason, I was whistling Let ‘Em In by Wings, which sent me down an internet rabbit hole when I got back home, as I wanted to find out the significance of the names of the people Paul McCartney was welcoming through the door.

I knew ‘Phil and Don’ were the Everly Brothers, the Amercian music duo so beloved of my two older sisters back in the day.

‘Martin Luther’ I got (King rather than the seminal figure of the Protestant Reformation) and ‘Brother Michael’ was clearly Mike McCartney, who, as Mike McGear, went on to become a member of The Scaffold, well-known for the hit song Lily the Pink.

The others I figured were members of the extended McCartney family – ‘Auntie Gin’ etc – so was genuinely surprised when I learned that ‘Uncle Ernie’ was a reference to The Who drummer Keith Moon, who played the disgusting and depraved character of that name in the film version of the rock opera Tommy.

(I just looked that up on YouTube and wish I hadn’t.)

I did wonder how Martin Luther King and Keith Moon might get on with each other. I thought Auntie Gin might be a soothing presence and the Everly Brothers, I hope, would have something harmonious to say about it.

You can find out more about Let ‘Em In here, on the unofficial fan website, The Paul McCartney Project.

It is said you should learn something new every day, which is the one good thing about the mobile phone because I use it for all sorts of trivial fact-finding missons.

Well, you never know what questions you might get in the next pub quiz.

Have a great week everyone.

Love, Maddie x

Radio Ga Ga

I was shocked on Tuesday when I heard that Steve Wright had died.

I’d just pulled up in the car outside a shop when it was announced on the radio news. I uttered an audible ‘no, no’ before getting out and then walking around the Co-op like a tit in a trance.

Sudden death hits you like that, even when it’s someone you’ve never met. To many of us, Steve was like a member of the family. He was always there. We grew up with him. A broadcaster with great skill and flair, he was hardworking, funny and, well, nice.

He seemed a kind person – and those who knew him say he really was – and his broadcasting style appeared fun and effortless. And when things appear effortless you can guarantee they’re completely the opposite. Steve Wright was a true professional, a perfectionist in his craft.

He always had that knack of saying exactly what we were thinking, such as referring to the ‘winking’ line after this song was played (a record that makes most sane people cringe every time they hear it).

Stomach churning stuff

Or pointing out that, contrary to what Carl Douglas sang, surely not everybody was kung fu fighting.

Hong Kong Phooey

I stopped listening to Radio 2 in the afternoons after Steve Wright was dropped. Always the professional, he never complained about the BBC’s decision, but it must have affected him deeply. I was furious. For so long, weekday afternoons were Steve Wright. And we loved it.

These days, I’m a BBC Radio 6 Music listener anyway, so it didn’t take much for me to tune into Craig Charles in the afternoons instead.

It’s my station of choice, bringing me new music and genres during the week and old favourites at the weekends with the schoolboy fun of Radcliffe and Maconie, the wonderful jazz, blues and world music of Cerys Matthews while I’m doing the ironing and peeling the spuds for the roast and then Guy Garvey’s Finest Hour, which is sublime for a cosy Sunday afternoon.

There are times, though, when Lauren Laverne’s got some rapping track going full blast and Mr Grigg walks into the kitchen that I have to switch over to Greatest Hits Radio.

I’m not averse to a bit of rap – my nephew will kill me but he was a great rapper in his day (he’s the first one on this video) – but it’s a boundary Mr Grigg refuses to cross.

Lowercase from Bristol

He has his phone on today for Greatest Hits’ Radio’s ‘Make Me A Winner‘ – thousands of pounds of tax-free cash to be won every weekday!

All you have to do is enter online and if you get a call from the station after 3pm, answer within five rings but don’t say hello and say ‘Make Me A Winner’ you win the daily prize.

I have asked him if anyone has ever just said ‘hello’ and lost the lot but he says he doesn’t think so. But I know what will happen if Mr Grigg gets that call.

It’ll be like the local legend of the silver table my yarn spinner of a grandfather used to tell. The table was at the bottom of a well and all you had to do was pull it up in silence and the treasure was yours.

Gramp did it once, apparently, with a group of friends. They managed to secure ropes around the glittering prize and had almost hauled it to the surface when one of them uttered the immortal words ‘there the bugger be’ and the table clattered down to the bottom of the well, never to be seen again.

What will happen when Mr Grigg gets the call from Greatest Hits Radio is that he’ll dismiss the unknown number showing up on his phone as from a scammer or will pick it up and yell ‘*!*! off you, bastard’ and blow Ruby’s dog whistle down the line.

And there we’d be, having coming face to face with a hundred thousand pounds only for it to scatter in the gale of his expletives.

Radio has been a part of my life and, I suspect, yours for what seems like forever. What ever station you choose -and, for me, it’s nearly always a music station apart from the Today programme in the morning on Radio 4 – it’s the intimacy of the broadcaster speaking to you that makes the difference. Steve Wright was a master at that. We will miss him. Greatly.