A matter of choice

Press, 3 February 1981, Page 17

A matter of choice

Radio

Heath Lees

I never did have much luck with competitions, though to be fair I did win a talent contest once. Not on television or anything, but at the ’ Little Theatre, Tenby, in South Wales. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. The theatre was packed that night with every one of its 72 uncomfortable seats taken. I blush to remember that 54 of these contained fellow-members of the 195th Boys’ Brigade company, most of whom had gained considerable vocal expertise on the terraces at Hampden Football Park. I remember that when it came to my turn for applause little bits of plaster came off the ceiling. Recognising that discretion was the better part of continued existence the management awarded me the prize and the show finished early. . Since then .1 have poohpoohed competition-entry in the sure knowledge thatthe only qualities needed are stupidity and' subterfuge. Honesty gets you nowhere. Who. after all, would win the prize by being frank and saying: “I like Nescafe because they put it on the middle shelf at the supermarket and

it’s so easy to reach?” My sister once entered a competition run by an embryonic radio station many years ago where she had to describe a record in a sentence and then she would be given an evening with Dirk Bogarde at a posh London restaurant. She sent off her masterpiece in spite of my continuously cynical remarks. Not a chance, I said, shaking my head sadly. I still wouldn’t believe it when I waved her off on the train. Dirk Bogarde was charming, apparently.

All these reflections happened when 3ZB advertised yet another competition, where this time people have to vote for what they think are “the five best, all-time-great pop records.” What a splendid, mind-boggling idea.

It has to be ■ “pop” records so it excludes some of the best popular ones. “White Christmas” and “Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer” are out. So are the real standards like - Peggy Lee’s “Fever” or Sinatra’s “Wee Small Hours.” Too bad, but the rules exist.

Pop music is reckoned to begin about the early fifties, so I need concen-

trate on only three decades, which narrows it down to something over two million records, from which, remember, I. have to choose five. What makes a record an “all-time-great”? It mustn’t be too closely related to a particular fad or fashion otherwise it may not have the necessary timeless quality. So I would have to reject punk, twist-disco, etc. Elvis Presley should appear somewhere — but which one? (If you think that’s hard, wait till you come to the Beatles, or the Rolling Stones.) And it’s no good concentrating on the classical fringes of pop, the esoteric in-groups like Cream, Blue Mink or even Pink Floyd (in spite of the recent. inane "We Don’t Need No Education” they’re still a fringe area.)

The records would have to ; be “good” musically, sound fresh over and over again, yet have universal appeal. The publicity agent’s dream. Not many of the million or so records that are left can fit all these guidelines. But this brings us down to simple personal taste. You say a particular record fits, I say it

doesn’t. Who’s right? I’d hate to be a judge on a competition like this. Mark my words,' societies will be divided, families split and friendships put asunder. Community radio, you see, working for us all.

For a start you won’t agree with my five: Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled -Water”; Elvis Presley’s “Blue Suede Shoes”; “Eleanor Rigby” by the Beatles; Peter, Paul and Mary’s version of Dylan’s “Biowin’ in the Wind”; and “The House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals. You see, you don’t agree. And I’ve got a list here of another five which, come to think of jt, is much better than that one ...