Rainbow Valley

The Sixties had begun. Someone had apparently forgotten to tell the prosecution. It is 1960. The Beatles are still playing clubs, the mini-skirt is some way off, Britain has yet to start swinging and much of the country still carries itself with the reassuring conviction that there is a proper way of doing things. And then Penguin Books decides to publish Lady Chatterley's Lover. D. H. Lawrence's novel had been written more than thirty years earlier, but its frank treatment of sex, adultery and class had ensured that British readers had never legally been offered the complete, unexpurgated version. Penguin intended to change that, producing an inexpensive paperback that could be bought by virtually anyone. The establishment was not entirely delighted. In October 1960, Penguin Books found itself at the Old Bailey, charged under the recently introduced Obscene Publications Act. What followed became one of the most famous obscenity trials in British history and, almost accidentally, a wonderfully revealing portrait of a country standing with one foot in the 1950s and the other edging rather nervously towards the modern age. At the heart of the prosecution was a question that would become far more famous than anyone asking it could possibly have imagined: "Is it a book that you would wish your wife or your servants to read?" It was only one sentence, but somehow an entire disappearing Britain seemed to be contained within it. This episode of Rainbow Valley tells the story of the book, D. H. Lawrence, Penguin's decision to publish it, the extraordinary cast of academics, writers, clergymen and lawyers who assembled at the Old Bailey, and the trial that turned a supposedly obscene novel into one of the most sought-after books in Britain. Because the Sixties may have officially arrived on 1 January 1960, but attitudes do not change simply because somebody replaces the calendar. The old Britain was still very much in evidence. The new one was beginning to clear its throat. So settle in as we return to London in 1960, when literature, sex, class, censorship and the British establishment unexpectedly found themselves sharing the same courtroom. Rainbow Valley – bringing you the stories from the decade that shook the world. This episode, along with all previous episodes of Rainbow Valley, is available wherever you get your podcasts and at: https://directory.libsyn.com/shows/view/id/rainbowvalley #RainbowValleyPodcast #RainbowValley #TheSixties #1960s #HistoryPodcast #LadyChatterley #DHLawrence #PenguinBooks #OldBailey #1960 #BritishHistory #Censorship  

Two voices, one microphone, a broken heart and a drum sound that seemed to arrive from somewhere in the future. This time on Seven Inches of History, we reach The Everly Brothers and "Cathy's Clown" – one of the most distinctive records of 1960 and a single that helped define the sound of pop harmony for years to come. Last time, we left Anthony Newley sitting happily at number one with "Do You Mind?" Unfortunately for Anthony, two brothers from America were approaching rather rapidly. Don and Phil Everly were hardly newcomers. By the spring of 1960 they had already enjoyed an extraordinary run of hits including "Bye Bye Love," "Wake Up Little Susie," "All I Have to Do Is Dream," "Bird Dog" and "Problems." Their close harmonies had become instantly recognisable, their records were selling by the million and an entire generation of aspiring singers was quietly trying to work out exactly how two voices could fit together quite like that. Then came "Cathy's Clown." And somehow, even by Everly Brothers standards, it sounded different. The record begins with that extraordinary rolling drum pattern before Don and Phil arrive together with a vocal so perfectly matched that separating the two voices is almost impossible. There is no lengthy introduction and very little warning. Within seconds, our hero is publicly humiliated, Cathy has apparently been behaving badly and everybody seems to know about it. Pop music can be terribly cruel. Written by Don Everly and inspired, at least in part, by one of Don's former girlfriends, "Cathy's Clown" was recorded at RCA Studio B in Nashville. Engineer Bill Porter helped create its unusual sound, using a tape loop on Buddy Harman's drums to give the impression that two drummers were playing together. The brothers themselves sang into the same microphone. No endless collection of vocal takes, no computer correction, no moving things around afterwards until everybody sounded perfect. Just Don, Phil, a microphone and one of the most famous sibling harmonies in popular music. It was also the beginning of a new chapter. After several enormously successful years with Cadence Records, The Everly Brothers had signed a major new contract with Warner Bros. "Cathy's Clown" became their first single for the label and, in Britain, appeared with the wonderfully appropriate catalogue number WB1. Not a bad way to introduce yourself. The record entered the British chart in April 1960 and, at the beginning of May, displaced Anthony Newley's "Do You Mind?" from the number-one position. And then it stayed there. For seven weeks. Across the Atlantic it was doing much the same thing, spending five weeks at number one in America and becoming the biggest record of The Everly Brothers' career. But there is something else happening when you listen to "Cathy's Clown." You can hear the future. John Lennon and Paul McCartney were listening. So were countless other young musicians who would soon form the groups that transformed British pop music. The Everlys' approach to harmony became part of the vocabulary of The Beatles, The Hollies, Simon and Garfunkel, The Beach Boys and many others, and the vocal arrangement of "Cathy's Clown" would later be cited as an influence on "Please Please Me." So, tucked away inside this deceptively simple two-and-a-half-minute tale of romantic humiliation is a little glimpse of what the 1960s were about to become. In this episode, we take another record from the pile and explore the story of Don and Phil Everly, from their childhood appearances on American radio through the great Cadence hits and on to the remarkable recording of "Cathy's Clown." We'll look at the Everly sound, the musicians and studio techniques behind the record, their move to Warner Bros., the astonishing success that followed and the influence those two intertwined voices would have on the generation waiting just behind them. There may also be an attempt to determine precisely what Cathy had done to deserve an entire hit record being written about her. Whatever it was, everybody apparently knew. Poor bloke. Here he comes... It can only be Seven Inches of History. Rainbow Valley – bringing you the stories from the decade that shook the world. All episodes of Rainbow Valley are available wherever you download your podcasts and at: https://directory.libsyn.com/shows/view/id/rainbowvalley #RainbowValley #SevenInchesOfHistory #EverlyBrothers #CathysClown #DonEverly #PhilEverly #1960 #SixtiesMusic #RockAndRoll #UKCharts #MusicHistory #1960s #Podcast

One raised eyebrow, one unmistakable voice and a perfectly innocent question that somehow sounds anything but. This time on Seven Inches of History, we reach Anthony Newley and "Do You Mind?" – a record that took one of the most distinctive voices in British entertainment all the way to number one. By 1960, Anthony Newley had already squeezed rather a lot into his 28 years. He had been a child actor, played the Artful Dodger in Oliver Twist, worked his way through the British film industry, become a leading man and then, almost as an aside, discovered that the record-buying public rather liked hearing him sing. And what a voice it was. You only need a few seconds of Anthony Newley before there's really no doubt who you're listening to. Part crooner, part actor, part music-hall turn and entirely his own creation, he had a way of making even a straightforward pop song sound as though he were performing it directly to one particular person sitting somewhere in the third row. After reaching number one earlier in 1960 with "Why", Newley returned to the top with "Do You Mind?", written by Lionel Bart, who was fast becoming one of the most successful songwriters in Britain. The record entered the charts in March 1960 and climbed to number one in April, becoming, rather neatly, the 100th number-one single in the history of the UK chart.  It's also a lovely reminder of just how gloriously odd the British charts could be in 1960. Rock 'n' roll was everywhere, American records were flooding across the Atlantic and teenagers were becoming an increasingly powerful audience. And right in the middle of it all was Anthony Newley, sounding like absolutely nobody else and still managing to walk away with a number one. In this episode, we take another record from the pile and explore the remarkable career of Anthony Newley: child star, actor, singer, songwriter, composer, theatrical innovator and a performer whose influence would eventually stretch far beyond the British pop charts. We'll also look at Lionel Bart, the story behind "Do You Mind?", Newley's sudden run of chart success and the extraordinary transformation that would soon take him from British film star and pop idol to the stages of the West End and Broadway. There may also be an attempt to discover precisely how much eyebrow movement is required to sing an Anthony Newley song correctly. Do you mind? We rather hope not. It can only be Seven Inches of History. Rainbow Valley – bringing you the stories from the decade that shook the world. All episodes of Rainbow Valley are available wherever you download your podcasts and at: https://directory.libsyn.com/shows/view/id/rainbowvalley #RainbowValley #SevenInchesOfHistory #AnthonyNewley #DoYouMind #LionelBart #1960 #SixtiesMusic #BritishMusic #UKCharts #MusicHistory #1960s #Podcast

A dustbin, a donkey jacket and one of the biggest singalongs of 1960. This time on Seven Inches of History, we reach one of those records that seems to have been part of British life forever — Lonnie Donegan's "My Old Man's a Dustman." By 1960, Donegan was already the undisputed king of British skiffle. He had helped launch a musical craze with a washboard, a tea-chest bass and the encouraging suggestion that you really didn't need an expensive collection of instruments to start a band. Thousands of teenagers took him at his word — including rather a lot who would go on to change popular music themselves. But "My Old Man's a Dustman" was something rather different. Part novelty song, part music-hall throwback and part enormous communal singalong, it was packed with corny jokes, memorable characters and the sort of chorus that could lodge itself in your head after a single hearing. Released in 1960, it raced to number one in the UK, proving that while rock 'n' roll might have been transforming the charts, there was still plenty of room for something that sounded as though it could equally happily have been performed at the local working men's club. In this episode, we take another record from the pile and explore the story behind the song, the remarkable career of Lonnie Donegan, the skiffle explosion he helped create, and why this apparently simple comedy record became such an enduring piece of British popular culture. There may also be discussion of dustbins, ill-fitting hats and trousers that appear to have been acquired under circumstances best left unexplained. It can only be Seven Inches of History. Rainbow Valley – bringing you the stories from the decade that shook the world. All episodes of Rainbow Valley are available wherever you download your podcasts and at: https://directory.libsyn.com/shows/view/id/rainbowvalley #RainbowValley #SevenInchesOfHistory #LonnieDonegan #MyOldMansADustman #Skiffle #1960 #SixtiesMusic #BritishMusic #UKCharts #MusicHistory #1960s #Podcast  

A song about doomed love, written by a man who never lived to see it top the charts. "Running Bear" is a cheerful record about two people who drown. That tension between the bouncy production and the tragic storyline is part of what makes it so fascinating, and part of why it shot to number one in March 1960 and stayed there for two weeks. But the real story here isn't Johnny Preston. It's the man who wrote the song. Jiles Perry Richardson Junior, better known as the Big Bopper, died on February 3rd 1959 in the same plane crash that took Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens. He was twenty-eight years old. "Running Bear" reached the top of the British chart sixteen months after he died. He never knew it existed as a single. Preston was a young singer from Port Arthur, Texas, who gave the song exactly what it needed. Wide-eyed, slightly breathless, completely committed to the tragedy of Running Bear and Little White Dove, two young lovers from rival tribes who swim toward each other across a river and meet in the middle. Romantically. Fatally. The backing vocals, a cheerful chorus of whoops and uga-ugas courtesy of George Jones among others, somehow made the whole thing work rather than collapse under the weight of its own absurdity. It's a brilliant piece of early 1960s pop storytelling, and it's the kind of record that Seven Inches of History was made for. These are Rainbow Valley's shorter bite-size episodes, each one picking up a single number one and telling the story behind it. Some of those stories are joyful. Some are heartbreaking. This one, somehow, manages to be both at once. Find this episode and the full Rainbow Valley catalogue at  https://directory.libsyn.com/shows/view/id/rainbowvalley and follow us on Twitter at @rv_podcast. #JohnnyPreston #RunningBear #TheBigBopper #SevenInchesOfHistory #RainbowValleyPodcast #UKNumberOne #1960s #PopHistory