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Celebrating 30 years at the top

Pop music’s most enduring star returns to New Zealand next month to sing at fund-raising rallies for Christian work. ANDREW DUNCAN asks him about the secret of his success, his beliefs, and his bachelorhood.

“Sex, drugs and rock and roll — the biggest quote ever,” says Cliff Richard, aghast as any amiable, celibate, middleaged troubadour can sound when discussing shocking aspects of his trade. "I don’t understand it. It’s not sex and drugs to me. I see rock and roll as a fantastic art form through which I communicate all sorts of feelings.” The perpetual toy boy, whiplash thin, a shining advertisement for clean living Christianity and bachelorhood has just celebrated 30 years at the top of the business. “Every year I survive is one in the eye for critics who say I don’t look good, can’t dance, sing or act. Am I that clever at fooling people? It can’t be true.” He is relaxed, content, at peace with himself and the only real doubts he has in his long career are about interviews. “The Michael Jackson syndrome of hiding yourself away does mean you become terribly in demand, but I try to be up front about almost everything in my life. Sometimes you can be made to look like a thoughtless idiot,” he explains. He is, however, the despair of muck raking tabloids who can find no closets seething with secrets, no revelations by some bimbo, of either sex, to sully a reputation that will soon rival the Queen Mother’s for its benign sanctity.

“I’m flattered when people say, ‘Don’t you think you’re too good to be true?’ But it worries me that it’s meant as a criticism. The whole world wants to read bad things all the time.

“I believe it’s best to flaunt as much good as possible with the knowledge that no-one’s perfect.

“I’m a nice person. I like being friendly and I hear that my gig is the most sought after one in the country because we treat people fairly, share the same hotels and have dinner with them.

“I don’t see the point of playing the megastar with colleagues who see you with spinach in your teeth.”

It is all a long way since he and the Shadows first performed in the Hawaiian bar of Clacton-on-Sea Butlins when he was 17.

Now he jokes that he is the Clint Eastwood of pop — “same old thing, but it works” — and his conversation is modest and pugnacious by turns, punctuated by a habit of saying “quote, unquote” and making a gesure of inverted commas with both hands.

“I’m surprised I’ve lasted so long because anything over five years is a bonus in this industry and no-one else had drummed up three hit singles every year for 30 years. I’m making my 99th and all but eight have been hits. “It’s amazing that somehow, without really trying too hard, or setting out to cross any barriers, I’m still making records that sound contemporary and people buy them. I’ve set a precedent for singers like George Michael and Paul Young who can say, ‘lf he can do it, so can I.’ “A lot of it is to do with instinct. Any artist is intuitive. You do things and say, ‘This feels good to me,’ and you splash your paint or sing your song.

“I’ve been fortunate that my personal taste has more often than not coincided with that of the public. That’s all it is really. You make a record you enjoy and then if 200,000 others like it your have a top 20 hit.

“None of us who stick around can put our fingers on what makes us quote popular unquote. It’s not easy to be self analytical. Okay, not everyone likes me, but I must have something. I’m' not going to try to discover what it is because that might spoil it.”

Could it be blandness? “That criticism hurts,” he says. “I think I’m one of the most un-bland people. I have been totally unpredictable throughout my career. I’ve done every-

thing — straight acting, repertory, television plays — and in the last three years I’ve recorded with Phil Everley, Elton John, Sarah Brightman and I’m now in the middle of recording with a black reggae band.

“I could make billions by singing ‘Living Doll’ every night — the memory lane thing is big, big business — but I refuse to

be dragged into memorabilia.” Nevertheless, he has come to terms with fans saying, “It’s good old Cliff” whatever he does. “I’d like the freedom to try something ridiculously different — playing a real nasty, horrible character, although my Christian faith tells me it’s no good being in a bad part unless you underline that is how

you shouldn’t be. It’s wrong to glamourise evil. “I’d love to have a go at Heathcliff (in ‘Wuthering Heights’). It must be wonderful to throw yourself into a role that has love, envy, jealousy and hate — all those facets of your character which bubble around and you subdue.” What demons bubble beneath the cool surface of Cliff, I wondered, and

decided the answer is quite obvious: none. He is as he seems. “I never related to rebellion, or anything like that. My motive was pure and simple: I heard rock and roll and thought, ‘lsn’t it wonderful. I want to do it.’

“And it just so happens that I could, although there were moments of desperation when I thought, ‘lt’s never going to happen.’ At first he felt guilty about the amount of money he earned. “Any thinking person would who is suddenly raised from poverty to quote riches unquote. You think, ‘Why me? Am I really a chosen one?’ “Then, after I became a Christian, I realised there’s nothing special about any of us — except in God’s eyes — and I felt very grateful. Of course I’ve been mocked and sniggered at sometimes for my religious belief, but I can’t be bothered with that.

“I just remember that if I’d been a Christian 2000 years ago I’d probably be in an arena with lions ripping at my throat and Romans jeering on the sidelines.”

Clearly he is untroubled by any mid-life crisis as he turns 48, but some might think his views are a little crusty.

“We have no control over anything today. There’s a certain state of anarchy in Britain and it frightens me. I don’t want our country torn apart by people doing whatever they want. “There is no discipline. To me, society is based on people being punished if they’re guilty. They won’t do things if they know here is a consequence to face.” All the fault of the permissive Sixties, I assumed. “It goes back before that. I think the War damaged us more than we’ll ever admit. It smashed up families and gave a different approach to bringing up children. “I often hear people say, ‘I don’t want my children to go through what I did.’ I think it would be really good if they did — then they

would appreciate things more.

“How can you appreciate anything if, for instance, you’re born into a millionaire’s role? There’s no way you’ll ever relate to value because everything is so easy.” Perhaps, because of his wealth, he has been scared to have children of his own. “No. I’d have been tough and wouldn’t throw money at kids, a real good father. I still might be — there’s nothing that says I won’t. “No, I’m not getting married tomorrow, but I promise you there will be nothing secret about my marriage. I can’t understand this obsession with peoples’ private lives and sexuality. Why should it affect anyone? “I heard all these innuendos about being unmarried. My mother is upset when she is described as ‘dominant’ and it’s said that I’m a mother’s boy. “She has read things that hinted of homosexuality — they don’t actually say it, or I would sue. But no mother likes to read that sort of thing about her son. “At last I thought to myself, ‘lt’s no good being on the defensive. Let’s get out there and say: if you want to be single, be single. Don’t mope and be suicidal and think you’re left on the shelf.” There is just a hint of grey in his hair, but he says he worries less and less about age as he gets older. “It’s really a state of mind. I play tennis, and keep fit. My knees click away, but that doesn’t stop me running. “I’ll keep going in my career because I like it and can’t imagine not doing it. Rock and roll is my life.” It is a remarkable achievement to remain so well balanced and successful in a shark-infested industry. "Some make it. Some don’t,” he says. “I guess I just swim faster than most.” —Copyright Duo

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Press, 28 December 1988, Page 32

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Celebrating 30 years at the top Press, 28 December 1988, Page 32

Celebrating 30 years at the top Press, 28 December 1988, Page 32