A Singh and a singer

Press, 28 January 1986, Page 15

A Singh and a singer

[Review]

Ken Strongman

With even more sessions of talking heads, last Friday evening prompted all manner of uncomfortable thoughts about the nature of greatness. “For Valour” is an emotionprovoking series. It reflects splendid bravery and yet it is a misplaced celebration of war. If those who have received the Victoria Cross were to have done those same things outside war they would either be imprisoned or judged insane.

The stories of individual acts of war are not only spell-binding for their content, but also for the fact that 40 or so years on people can remember them in such detail. The events are usually so confused and complex as to be barely understandable while they are being described. Ageing gentlemen, with less than complete control over the disposition of their teeth, portray horrifying encounters and then say things like: “And I thought to meself, oh gosh.”

The recipient of Friday’s V.C. was Major, then Sergeant, Parkesh Singh. “No, I was never fright-

ened,” he said firmly. If the rescues he made so calmly under such heavy fire were not frightening to him, in what way could they be seen as brave? Still, perhaps such questions should not be asked. He himself put it all down to “will power.” After the protracted action which won him his V.C., everyone celebrated with a brew-up “They were very good at that,” reminisced their C.O. A little later, in the final of the “South Bank Show,” was Paul McCartney, again leaving one asking whether or not he has some greatness about him. Either way, at the end of this programme, which took a year to make, anyone who had thought McCartney’s music to be overly simple, would have had to think again. As usual, the sheer diligence of the programme was matched

precisely by its pace and the result was absorbing. McCartney might be middle-aged, but he still has a Liverpudlian youthful exuberance. The programme centred on “Give My Regards to Broad Street” which he wrote, produced and directed, and for which he composed the music and then starred in as a figment of himself. But irrespective of all this talent there is something vaguely disturbing about him, a sort of boyish soft-centre that leaves one wondering. The most interesting aspect of McCartney is that he is still breaking with tradition. In the early 19605, the Beatles thankfully smashed through convention, almost managing to do away with it for ever. Now, he is still breaking conventions, but in more complex and technical ways in the making of musicals. He is still forcing the issue and it is still working for him, as it did 25 years ago.

The programme had one misplaced note. Dropped in with all the charm of a fly in the custard, was: “Until this ‘South Bank Show’ he’s

never been seen recording or re-recording these songs.” This was an unnecessary bit of Bragging. The programme can stand on its own merit without Melve telling us that it is special. Look at me, I’ve got a scoop. Returning to McCartney, in part of the film he whipped back into his own youth and redid songs such as Eleanor Rigby. Doubtless, it was interesting for him to try to recapture his own relative innocence, but it was all a bit self-centred and navel-gazing with a touch of the precious about it. But he is just about good enough at what he does to turn aside this impression.

McCartney was refreshing to listen to in spite of being hooked on the word ‘really.” “Classical music is just a lotta tunes really, or one re-occuring tune.” And there he was, composing “somethink” like classical music. “I was really just checking for boredom, and then I really enjoyed it.” More importantly, he summed up his own philosophy of life with: “I don’t wanna do something just ’cause it’s poncy.” Whatever else he says or does, soft-

centre or not, he can be forgiven much for that one attitude.

Tailpiece: With some relief, one can now say that “Max Headroom” will be good, just for Max himself, never mind the videos. “And meanwhile back to the man with Van Gogh’s ear for music.”