‘Ten years ago, if you’d been asked what Gary Barlow would be running now, you’d have said a Little Chef off the A32.’ This, from Lee Mack, was one of the best gags of the night, which isn’t saying much. The music outstripped the comedy but Mack raises an important question: did Barlow get it right? This was his show and the mission was to pitch the concert at a mass audience of all ages and make it a global entertainment spectacular. From my seat (I was lucky enough to get one, a few rows down from Ed Miliband) I’d give Barlow an eight. And here, for what it’s worth, is my verdict.
Robbie Williams, still one of the greatest showmen in pop, was the perfect opener and follow-ups from Will.i.am and Jessie J were also perfectly-judged. It dipped a bit on Barlow and Cheryl Cole’s odd choice of Need You Now: they should have made a duet from one their own songs, but a Lady Antebellum cover that didn’t even make the top 20? Then came the point where I worried that the whole show may be crashing. To nail Lang Lang was a coup, but to have him playing along to Rhapsody in Blue was a waste of a mesmerizing pianist. He could have played that wearing boxing gloves. This is a guy who can wow crowds by playing Flight of the Bumble Bee on an iPad – why not let him?
As Sir Cliff Richard started his medley, the horrible realization dawned that it was chronological — and quickly heading to the egregious Millennium Prayer. And he did it, asking the audience to clap along to the worst song recorded by a man or a woman. Someone in front of me covered her ears as he did his worst. David Bowie can say the Lord’s Prayer at Live Aid; that’s cool. Sir Cliff singing the Lord’s Prayer at the Palace to the tune of Auld Lang Syne? Unforgivable, and enough to have his knighthood revoked, Goodwin-style.
And then the concert picked up, tremendously. As the lights dimmed, we saw the spectacular illumination of the Palace which, with the fireworks, transformed this into a son et lumière spectacular — and a category above anything you’d get in any stadium. Barlow’s second half lineup also etched out a wider theme: still being brilliant after decades at the top. We had the 64-year-old Grace Jones’s hula hoop trick, it was an inspired move by Barlow to have her repeat it for the Jubilee. Kylie Minogue’s coquettish performance would have been outstanding for anyone, far less a 44-year-old cancer survivor. Elton John’s Crocodile Rock was perfect for having half a million people sing along to a chorus. Stevie Wonder, whose career has been as long as Sir Cliff’s, was as electrifying as he’s ever been. And Sir Paul McCartney sang just one of his solo songs (Live and Let Die) and the rest were Beatles favourites. As he knows, Beatles songs have become part of the national fabric, and there could be no better finale.
In the thank you speech, Prince Charles raised the loudest cheer of all: for the hospital-bound Duke of Edinburgh. In the Christmas Spectator, Quentin Letts suggested a minute’s standing ovation for the Duke, and the roar — followed by a ‘Philip! Philip!’ — came a pretty close second. I’m not sure what the Queen made of the music, but I suspect her concern would have been whether the concert had played the monarchy’s historic role of cheering the nation up in the middle of a slump. This mission, I’d say, was accomplished.
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