It’s probably impossible to overstate the significance of the Old Grey Whistle Test in the 1970s, not just in musical terms but culturally. For those not in the UK, it was a weekly rock music-based show where people like Johnny Winter or John Martyn got to play live in a stripped down studio. There were interviews, films and old footage of silent films with the latest music as a soundtrack. All presided over by Bob Harris or ‘whispering Bob’ as he was known for his deep, quiet, laid back speaking voice. He was on the radio too and was quite a cultural icon for all us hairies.
It was the only place you could see rock music and musicians on TV for many years and it was must-see TV for the rock cognoscenti of all ages. This was ‘serious music’ to be talked about the next day at school. An education that we rock kids clung to like it was a favourite teacher.
Bob still has a nationally broadcast radio show for two hours on a Sunday, even though he’s well into his 70s now. Of course it’s a pure nostalgia trip as we all reminisce about hearing the music back in the days of our youth when life seemed so simple and such a long time ago. He’s been a consistent thread through life for 55 years and still an important part of all our lives, just as he was when we were 15.
I bet anyone who saw Whistle Test still holds some standout performances close to their hearts. And everyone played on it. It was certainly where I first saw Captain Beefheart and who can forget SAHB playing Next with a string quartet in pig masks. It was where I was turned on to Montrose with a young Sammy Hagar. It was where I first saw Utopia around the time of Ra with Todd playing standing on top of an illuminated pyramid! I still recall seeing my heroes, Man playing Day And Night from Slow Motion, with Deke playing a black and white telecaster. A thousand memories.
There were regulars like Rory Gallagher playing his battered strat. Their old footage of silent movies and cartoons to Trampled Underfoot were legendary. It aired the revolutionary claymation film of Zappa’s City Of Tiny Lights by Bruce Bickford and showed a film of Macon Whoopee featuring all the southern rock bands we could only dream of actually seeing.
As an adjunct they often had gigs in front of an audience from people like Queen or Jethro Tull. It was an oasis in a rock-free world which implicitly understood our passion for the artform at a time when there was little sympathy in the UK media and several volumes of the performances have since been released on DVD and can be seen online. Shows tried to recreate the special vibe of the show but none ever got near to it. It was intimate, ego-free, not flashy in any way, and was completely in tune with its audience. It was unashamedly not ‘show business’ at all, it was just hairy blokes in jeans and t-shirts with guitars.
More simple days, I suppose, but what a great cultural force to have in our lives. It was like an informal University Of Rock embraced by a whole generation as ‘theirs’ and it really was. On late on a week night. I was allowed to stay up to watch it on my own in the dark and that made it an even more special space and time.
Photo by
Rik Walton
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