WHENEVER anyone asks me, and it’s amazing how many do, if there is one quality a budding pop star needs most of all, I always give the same one-word answer—talent.

If you don’t have talent you might as well go back to the farm, or the bank counter, or wherever it is you work.

Mind you, that talent may not be obvious. It often takes a clever manager to spot it because the person might be shy or trying to start off with the wrong style.

The Beatles illustrate the point. Brian Epstein, their manager, agrees with me that he was extremely lucky in finding four boys who had an incredible amount of talent between them. Some of that talent was obvious but some was not.

John Lennon’s was clear from the start and so was Paul McCartney’s to a slightly lesser extent in that they were both good at composing. But the latent talent in George Harrison and Ringo Starr emerged much later.

Today George is coming out with some really tricky guitar playing. He has proved himself an expert guitarist.

And Ringo has revealed a latent talent in his humour, his new comic image. This talent has been brought out by a process of evolution, actual experience, confidence from success and by being put on the right lines by Brian Epstein.

Another case of really obvious talent is Tommy Steele. He has now graduated from being only a pop singer to becoming a fine all-round entertainer. He always had this natural talent, coupled with a flair for putting it over.

This flair, too, is most important. You need personality to put your talent over.

If you don’t have the personality to put your talent over, you may just as well not have the talent.

Anthony Newley is another example of a man so talented that he emerged as a pop singer as an off-shoot from his main job of acting. He also helps write his own songs and stage shows.

How do you know if you’ve got talent? Most of the time if you are really talented, you won’t know. In fact, if you do think you’re the great undiscovered genius it might be as well to think again. For most talented people I’ve known did NOT know they were talented.

Often the real true artist is the last person to know just how talented he is.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t have the confidence to persevere. You MUST have that.

I remember when I was working in an assistant capacity as publicity man to Peter Sellers. We were watching a scene in a film he’d just made and he didn’t think it was very funny, although to everyone else it was. In fact, it was the funniest scene in the film, yet Peter wanted to do it again.

Just as the law courts will occasionally jail an innocent man or free a guilty man, most people know that justice is almost invariably done. It’s the same with talent in show business. If you’ve got it, you should win through.

There are the freaks — talents who just don’t get noticed and people who get a stardom they don’t deserve. But, generally speaking, talent will be recognised sooner or later and receive its just reward.

Above all, don’t be put off too easily. There may be a number of reasons why you might be told quite consistently by agents and managers that you are not what they want.

Maybe you have some rough edges and they can’t be bothered to smooth them out. Maybe you clash with someone else already on their books. Maybe there is something about you they don’t like, quite apart from your ability.

Never be misled by this. You must still press on. Be as honest as you can with yourself and if you really think you’ve got something, be confident in your own ability. But don’t be too clever or cocky about it.

I’ve just taken on a man called Deke Arion. I’m convinced, as are many who’ve seen him, that he’s very talented. He sings, does impersonations that are cleverly satirical. He compares favourably in the early stages with Tommy Steele or even with Danny Kaye. For all manner of reasons, he never signed with anyone, but now I’m certain he’s destined for stardom.

You may have all the talent in the world but without good management, in this highly competitive business, you don’t really have much chance.

I think the Beatles’ greatest debt of gratitude to Brian Epstein must be from the very early days, before they’d made their first couple of records, when Brian came from Liverpool and literally “sold” them to the recording industry.

This doesn’t apply in every case, of course. But Brian found a recording manager, a recording company and a music publisher and convinced them that the Beatles were worth knowing.

Brian had doors slammed in his face and people didn’t want to know him or the Beatles, but he worked very hard.

I do feel that without him they would never have been pushed so well. He brought their great talents to everyone’s notice. Of course, with their talents they would have been discovered by someone but there are very few managers with anything like Epstein’s abilities.

Brian was so convinced by the evidence of his eyes and ears—and he had experience from running a record shop— that he was inspired to work like he did.

And I would say it was essential for any budding pop star to have a manager who feels like this about him or her.

How do you go about finding a good manager? There are no hard and fast rules. A lot of it is inspired guesswork, a lot of it is sheer luck.

But you should be guided by your own instincts. Instinct is a wonderful thing in show business and first impressions are often right.

You should look, of course, for an honest and reputable person. And you must be convinced that when they say “I will do this or that for you” they mean it and are capable of really doing their best to fulfil their promises.

You should feel the manager has a personal interest in you, believes implicitly in your talent, and that in the face of criticism or in a tight corner he will fight for you and defend you — and not just because he’s paid for it.

He should also be aware of your bad points and idiosyncrasies and know how to counteract them.

As in all basic rules, there is a middle path to follow. Don’t depart too far from it.

Publicity, of course, goes hand in hand with good management. But there is one point I must make: Too many people have the idea in the pop world that if you get a good publicity man — you can include the manager in this, too—you are made.

That all you need then is a little bit of patience, a bit of determination and the right song.

This just isn’t true. Publicity is never a substitute for talent. At its best all publicity can do is present the artist, using all the media available, in the best possible light.

With intelligent thinking between yourself, the management and the publicity man, you can knock off the rough edges, project the artist’s best points, and try to play down, and if possible remove, some of the bad ones.

And there must be mutual trust. For instance, with the Kinks, we appreciate each other’s sense of humour. I appreciate their talents and I think they appreciate my professional ability, publicity-wise.

They know I’m working for them and although they may not see that what I am doing is the right thing, they do trust that eventually I will be shown to be right.

If you’re going to buy a new car or an odd looking shirt, if you’re going to change your hairstyle, if your dog is having pups, if your wife is having a baby, or whatever you are up to, it’s your duty to keep the publicity man informed.

It’s then up to him to see it is exploited in the right way. Keeping an artist’s name before the public in an interesting and glamorous way is very important.

NEXT WEEK: I’ll tell you about the time time even the Beatles needed publicity in 1964. And how to find the “right song”.

The post How to become a pop star appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.

Outside the studios hundreds of teenage fans waited to mob Cliff. This was only a ten minute programme, but they had come from far and wide, travelling countless miles, just for the chance of seeing their idol in action for a few minutes.

Some of those crowding outside did not even catch a glimpse of him. But still they were happy to be there; content just to be near where Cliff was.

Since then Cliff Richard has reached an even higher peak of success. And apart from being one of the few pop stars to have stayed high in the popularity stakes, he has even knocked on the door of the exclusive Presley hall of fame to challenge the almost legendary Elvis for the No. 1 position.

Pop singers come and go, their career governed by the restless tastes of the teenage record buyers. Some of them are one record wonders who cut a hit disc, climb high into the Top Ten and then slide off into obscurity. Others find themselves stars overnight. But unless they can continue to provide the type of music the teenage audience want, their popularity — like the moonlight kisses of the famous Nat King Cole song — “cools in the warmth of the sun”. Some are stars at 15 and has-beens at the ripe old age of 20.

But for all these, the vagaries of “pop” music life, there are those with obvious talent — an ability certain to keep them in favour with their capricious audience. Such artistes are Brenda Lee, Helen Shapiro, Bobby Vee and Bobby Rydell, not to mention those old timers Connie Francis, Pat Boone, Tommy Steele and Frankie Vaughan.

All of these favourites have featured in ATV shows during the past year.

Cliff Richard, for instance, has appeared frequently in Startime and Sunday Night at the London Palladium programmes. That Cliff is one of Britain’s hottest show business properties is undisputed. There was a time when this swarthy dark eyed twenty-two-year-old meant nothing. But by the time he was 19 Cliff had made the top. Today he can smile at the cynics who thought him to be just another guitar-strumming teenager when he made his early television appearances in the Oh Boy show.

But the teenagers had faith in him. Cliff justified that faith. Today he is mobbed wherever he goes. ‘You miss being able to walk about unmolested,’ he says. ‘It would be nice to be able to wander about. But I like what I am doing, and that is enough to make up for it.’

In addition to the year’s stage and television successes, 1962 saw Cliff’s film The Young Ones, on release. It was a tremendous box-office success. And while the teenage fans naturally flocked to see him, so did the mums and dads, and there were many who came away from the cinema with the feeling that the Cliff of 1962 appeals to a far wider audience.

Like Cliff Richard, Tommy Steele, although he still has his youthful following, now appeals more to the family-type audience. Tommy was one of the pioneers of the business of disproving the cynics in their belief that his talent consisted only of an ability to strum a guitar and wiggle his hips.

Tommy gave a polished performance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium in January and offered a feast of entertainment later in the year when he appeared in his own show. When he made this appearance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium few people knew that he almost did not go on. When he arrived by cab for the afternoon rehearsal he discovered that he had left his music in the back of the taxi. A frantic search was begun and the police called in to help. Fortunately, the cabbie found the music, took it to a police station, and it was delivered to the Palladium by a constable.

‘Was I glad to see that policeman,’ said Tommy. ‘I wonder if that taxi driver knows that he probably saved the show that night.’ Tommy showed his appreciation by sending a reward to the police station for the driver.

Billy Fury, too, appeared in several ATV shows, including All That Jazz. Many people mistake Billy’s natural shyness for coldness. On a first meeting he is apt to appear quiet and serious. But once the ice is broken Billy quickly shows himself to be a warm, humorous person. His great love is fast cars — an interest he shares with many young pop singers, including Elvis Presley.

Of all the teenage stars to hit the headlines during the past year perhaps pert little Helen Shapiro has made the greatest impact. The latter half of 1961 found Helen an established star. And 1962 consolidated that success. Successive hit records brought fame to a poised 16-year-old girl who, when her first record was climbing high in the Top Ten, was still at a London school. Since then she has headlined Sunday Night at the London Palladium, appeared in Startime and starred in a two weeks’ season at the London Palladium Theatre.

In addition to these British successes, 1962 has witnessed another pop invasion from across the Atlantic. Brenda Lee, Neil Sedaka, Bobby Vee, Bobby Rydell, Jimmy Dean, Connie Francis and Pat Boone all came to Britain to star in Sunday Night at the London Palladium.

Pat Boone, now a firm favourite with British disc fans, came to make a film at Shepperton Studios and stayed for six months. Connie Francis, of course, has been a frequent visitor to these shores for a number of years and, as one Press man jokingly put it: ‘Connie comes here so often that the airlines are giving her a season ticket!’

Four years ago a petite 15-year-old American girl set foot in Britain for the first time. Her name? Brenda Lee. She appeared in a television show and immediately set people talking. In April of this year she returned again, this time as a fully fledged star, to top the Sunday Night at the London Palladium bill. During these four years Brenda had set the American pop world alight with her powerful voice and extraordinary personality.

Her youthful zest earned her the title ‘Miss Dynamite’ and, backed by several hit records and her successful Palladium appearance, Brenda set out to conquer Britain with a hectic tour of one night stands. Unanimously, British pop artistes acclaimed her. ‘Brenda is great,’ said Cliff Richard. While Helen Shapiro, who can probably claim to be Britain’s counterpart of this dynamic American teenager, said: ‘I think Brenda Lee is the greatest female rock singer.’ Adam Faith used Norman Vaughan’s expression to describe her. ‘I think Brenda is swinging,’ he said.

Apart from teenage entertainers, television during 1962 has seen appearances from many established star singers, from both sides of the Atlantic — artistes like Eartha Kitt, Matt Monro, Shirley Bassey, Frankie Vaughan and Lonnie Donegan. Donegan, for example, starred in another successful series of Putting on the Donegan shows for ATV and proved himself to be a dab hand at comedy in addition to being one of our most popular recording stars.

Matt Monro, the former busman, found a ready market for his talents in American night-spots. It is not easy for a British artiste to win acclaim in the United States but Matt was able to do this quite emphatically.

Before leaving the pop scene, mention must be made of a young man who, through those fine recordings Moon River and Jeannie, found a place in the top echelon — Danny Williams. Danny, the quiet spoken South African-born singer, has a style reminiscent of the velvety tones of Johnny Mathis. Danny appeared in All That Jazz for ATV.

It would not be right to talk about Cliff Richard without mentioning the fabulous Shadows — Brian Locking, Bruce Welch, Hank B. Marvin and Brian Bennet, who took over as the group’s drummer from Tony Meehan in the latter part of last year. Although they still back Cliff Richard, they are now stars in their own right, and in the past year there has been a friendly battle between the Shadows and Cliff for the top chart positions.

It has been a good year in the ‘pop’ music world.

The post The Pop Invasion appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.

Comedian Jim positively beams mateyness. I’ve never had the pleasure before, but his greeting is overwhelming. I’m ushered into a chair, offered a drink, smoke or sandwich and the undivided attention of Master Tarbuck, aged 26. grinning schoolboy fashion and looking like a stray Beatle.

He’s one of the guests in Secombe and Friends, on Sunday; so friendliness is an appropriate background and subject. For Jim has a great loyalty to his mates, and when he meets them (it’s never at the local — he’s teetotal!) all manner of unpredictable events occur.

With Dennis King (of the singing King Brothers) he goes golfing. He’s been playing for two years, handicap 16, and a bit worried about his chips. Would like to keep chatting about golf, but our subject is friendship…

With Tommy Steele he either plays or watches soccer. A great soccerman, Jim: I have difficulty dragging him off the topic of Celtic and back to his mates.

With Bernie Winters he goes butterfly spotting or bird-watching in open country like Clapham Common.

Er, what was that again? Butterflies and birds with Bernie? Now who is kidding who? These ITV comedians just love testing the elasticity of my leg and it looks like Jim has got the message, too.

“No, no. I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “Bernie Winters is quite an authority on ornithology and lepidoptera. I love just going along with him. It’s different. And isn’t this what friendship is all about? Sharing each other’s interests. Widening your own horizons.”

True, true. But the thought of Bernie and Jim stalking red admirals and pearl bordered fritillaries on Clapham Common is… well, a bit of a giggle. So I grin. And Jim grins. This is the way he is. Loves to amuse, even in serious conversation.

Has been in big time show business a fairly short time (three years). But he’d done 44 televised Palladium shows. The Royal Variety Show, shaken hands with the Queen, been a guest of Eamonn Andrews, and is acknowledged as a friend of Harry Secombe on Sunday.

He’s a star; but still hasn’t quite grasped the fact. Still overwhelmed at his acceptance by the big names in the business; still thrilled to be with fellow guests like Shirley Bassey and Dudley Moore.

“Amazing,” he says. “I’m just a kid from Scouse. Came up quick; you’d think the stars who had to slog their way up might resent it. But not at all. They licked me into shape.”

Dickie Henderson taught him to stop saying Thank You Very Much. “I used to repeat it, parrot-like, after every gag,” says Jim. “After every laugh. Nerves I suppose, but you don’t know you’re doing it until someone you respect points it out.”

Morecambe and Wise showed him how to bow properly. “I used to bend stiffly, like a Chinese waiter with lumbago.”

Frankie Vaughan advised on smiling. “I’d always walk on a little worried and grim,” he says. “But Frankie told me you must bounce on, smiling, happy. Then the audience is happy, too.”

What about Harry Secombe, his “friend” on Sunday? “Oh, Harry is the greatest,” he replies, fervently. “I don’t know anyone in the business who doesn’t rate Harry as a friend. I met him after I pushed over a pile of pennies for charity.

“Now it’s all very well pushing them over. But nobody knew where to send them. So I wrote to Harry. He knows all about things like that.

“He contacted me immediately. Ever since I like to think we’ve been mates. And he taught me humility.”

Jim has sporting mates: Ian St John, Liverpool F.C.’s Scots international centre forward; Billy Walker, heavyweight boxer. But all his friends are by no means well known. He’s delighted when old school chums knock unannounced at his dressing room door.

They usually end up at his home in Hertfordshire sharing memories with his wife Pauline — “my greatest mate of all” — and meeting his two children.

Jim certainly hurls himself into his friendships. I’ve a suspicion he’d prefer to be playing golf with me. Or showing off his collection of pop records. Or tiddly-winking…

Anything to forge a friendship deeper. One day I simply must come bird-watching with you and Bernie Winters, Jim.

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