The Man With The Didgeridoo

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31143, 20 August 1966, Page 5

The Man With The Didgeridoo

[From the London correspondent of "The Press! ’T’HE sound, which has been described A somewhere as “a hippopotamus hiccuping in soft mud” emanated ominously from the star’s dressing room at the Talk of the Town night club in Leicester Square.

It was Rolf Harris, the Australian entertainer, celebrating with some blasts on a five-foot long didgeridoo, an aboriginal wooden trumpet, that he is at last earning a reputation as a bright cabaret star and not just as the 8.8.C.’s funny man for children. The last time I had seen Harris was at a press reception in the Grand Hotel. Dunedin, about 1960. Harris had already gained a reputation on children’s programmes for 8.8. C. television at that time but was virtually unknown in New Zealand, except for his gimmicky hit record “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport” which had just been issued. On the strength of this, and his “wobbleboards” a paint company sponsored his quick trip around New Zealand. Six years later the scene was very similar. Harris still

telling jokes furiously and making all manner of weird sounds; a bar set up in the corner of the dressing room with an array of beverages including bottles of Australian beer, reverently handled by some of the Australians who had gone backstage after the star’s performance. Among the group were Harris’s manager and his press agent, fussing about coming engagements and obtaining music for a television show later in the week, Marion Montgomery, a jazz singer, who has a coming season at the Talk of the Town and the attractive blonde wife of speed record-holder, Donald Campbell, who is planning to make a come-back as a cabaret singer. Saw Little Of N.Z. Harris has only hazy memories of bis wobbleboard bounce round New Zealand—he said he had little time to see any of the countryside, but he had been told by his sculptor-wife that it was worth seeing.

But he was delighted to learn New Zealand had joined the list of countries in which his television series for children “Hey Presto, It’s Rolf” is now being screened. Each programme has Harris singing a few songs out of the hundreds in his repertoire, demonstrating his powers as a cartoonist, and talking with Coojeebar the koala. And a joint star of the show is Paddy Joyce, shrunk by television technical magic to seeming height of only nine inches to play the part of a leprechaun. Droning Rumble But to return to Harris in the dressing room: somebody had just gone scarlet in the cheeks trying to get a croak from the didgeridoo—the master retrieved it and demonstrated the correct method, as well as the way to sniff back breaths while still playing the droning rumble... “Bloody beauty,” be commented as the recital ended. Harris has always been fascinated by noises. In “Tie me Kangaroo Down, Sport,” a record which sold more than a million copies, it was the wobbleboard. Then came “Sun Arise,” featuring the didgeridoo, which he discovered after trying out bull-roarers and other aboriginal musical effects. One of his recent hits was “War Canoe”—he discovered later that aborigines never

had war canoes—in which the sound effects of paddles in the water came from the sucking noise of a sink plunger. He has plans for many sounds, unusual and usual such as (the scraping of toast), to be used for backings of records one day. But he says that the royalties from his records are not very lucrative. “They are requested a lot and get a lot of air play, but often they don't sell all that well.” When he came to England 14 years ago from Perth, Harris was ashamed of his rough Australian accent and was told he would never get anywhere with it. He came to study serious painting but sang in a club for £2 a night “to stay alive.” He saw a man drawing sketches on television and considered that he could do better himself, so applied for a job—and got one. All the time he was trying to cultivate an English accent, but after several years he gave it up as hopeless. When he got up for breakfast at his boardinghouse he was still inclined to bawl out “How's it goin; Beauty?” or “Not bloody marmalade and toast again— Gawd!” Three Performances After he left New Zealand, Rolf called at Canada—and stayed a year. Now he returns there every year for a season of cabaret work. But he always wanted to

get free of the “children's entertainer” label in England, and for a while the best he could do was a radio programme on Thursday mornings aimed at the British housewife. With a booking for the Talk of the Town straight after his return from a recent Australian tour, Harris feels he had made it His success was confirmed when he was called to the London Palladium Theatre on a Saturday for a matinee and evening performance in place of Harry Secombe who was ill. He went on to the night club weary, but happy, to perform bis act for adults for the third time in a day. Cabaret Clown What was the act? The jokes, probably unrepeatable. A marvellous performance of “Jake the Peg" a song about a man with three legs which Harris acts out in a dance routine with a dummy leg under his coat. Several versions of “Tie Me Kangaroo Down . . . Hello Mater, Hello Pater,” his British answer to Allan Sherman's “Hello Muddah, Hello Fuddah,” several versions of "How much is that Doggie in the Window,” “I’m a Dedicated Follower of Fashion,” “I've Been Everywhere Man,” and others. But Harris excels in his impromptu remarks and backchat as a cabaret clown. He would be a pretty hard man to tie down.