My 24 hours with Burt Bacharach
Churchill's armchair, Joan Didion, Jared O'Mara and Nancy Reagan
If you’re new here, welcome! Perhaps you’ll consider joining us? Subscribers receive this newsletter every week and occasional extracts from my books. Paid PoP Club members get access to a members-only health support & accountability group and regular Q&As with me. Plus, you’ll be supporting the work I share here for free.
If you’re quoting from this newsletter, please mention “Tom Watson’s newsletter on Substack.” Thank you.
My 24 hours with Burt Bacharach
I gatecrashed Burt Bacharach’s private party. Kevin Brennan MP was my accomplice. We’d seen him perform at the Roundhouse and tried to find the aftershow party. I won’t explain how I blagged us through two security rings, but I did.
Then, there we were, in the room. And at the bar, on a tall stool sat the great man with a conga line of admirers waiting to pay their respect.
Six feet away, standing alone with a clipboard, was an elegant woman looking attentive - the manager. I’ve dealt with a lot of music managers. They are high-calibre and tough.
“Excuse me, madam; I am here on behalf of Prime Minister Gordon Brown. He has asked me to pass on his best wishes to Mr Bacharach and to extend an open invitation to you both to visit us in Number 10 Downing Street.” The poetic licence worked. We were escorted to the front of the queue and introduced to Burt.
Kevin Brennan was in rapture and immediately asked Burt if he made Cilla Black record ‘Alfie’ 34 times. “Well, you know, Kevin, there’s no point being in the studio unless the recording is perfect.”
“What was it like getting your first number one hit?”
“It was life-changing and I am still proud of it. Never underestimate a song you can whistle.”
See ‘The Story of My Life (1957) below:
The two of us were like naughty schoolchildren, not believing our luck and blagging skills. At the back of the queue was Jamie Cullen’s manager, who had rumbled us and was appalled and impressed in equal measure.
We spent longer than we should have with the great man, but Bacharach mania had overcome us. We hopped in a cab to K-Box and spent two hours at the Soho karaoke bar singing every Burt song we could find in the database. We sang to each other and with each other, laughing, smiling, and high-fiving all night. And we drank Tequila as they do on the West Coast.
The next morning, bleary-eyed, I walked into the cabinet office at 8am to be met by a bemused Private Secretary. “We’ve had a call from someone claiming to be the manager of Burt Bacharach, who is on tour in the UK at the moment minister. She seems to think he is meeting you and the Prime Minister today.”
I was undone. By now, the “open invitation to visit us in number 10 Downing Street” was a vague memory.
I'm avoiding the story about how I fixed it, but I did. Gordon Brown juggled his diary and drank tea from china cups with Burt. We took pictures of him sitting in Churchill’s leather armchair, and he saw the moondust given to the UK by President Nixon on behalf of the USA.
He loved it, and we loved him visiting. I have many memorable stories of working at Number 10, but I think this is the one I treasure most or at least equally treasure, along with my boy playing dinosaurs with the PM and his boy.
It's 50 years to the day that the Beatles recorded the last ten tracks of their first album, Please, Please Me. And tonight, the UK Music Industry will celebrate contemporary excellence at the Brit awards.
At the heart of all of this is a songwriter's genius. Never underestimate a melody you can whistle. God bless you, Burt, and thank you.
The former MP jailed for fraud
Oh, Jared O’Mara, what did you do? This troubled and immature man has been jailed for fraud. He should never have been a candidate, let alone an MP. I can’t help feeling sorry for him. He has cerebral palsy and hemiparesis, as well as autism. The prison will not be kind to him.
The situation is this: the national labour party dropped Jared in as a parliamentary candidate, following on from years of campaigning by decent, hard-working Labour party members in Sheffield.
He was imposed because he was a Momentum member (the hard left faction created to support Jeremy Corbyn). They didn’t bother to check his ability to do the job and withstand public scrutiny.
I have a hunch the pressure of the job was so great that it increased Jared’s addictive self-abuse. It was cruel of them to put this man into a job he couldn't do. That’s on Momentum, too.
Jeremy Corbyn’s faction leaders must take some responsibility that the people of Sheffield Hallam were not adequately represented. They should apologise.
Listening
Although she was famous, I had never heard of or read Joan Didion. Still, thanks to the BBC, I have now found her. All of these essays are excellent, but if you want to scan them, listen to the profile of Nancy Reagan, ‘plucking flowers with pretty Nancy’ and ‘Why I write.’ There are gaps in my reading and knowledge. I want to sign up for an English Literature degree when I discover these things.
I’m listening to a lot of Iggy before seeing the Lust for Life tour in a few weeks. Look at the musicians on the roster. All of them are legends.
Reading
Don’t read this, because I’ve done it for you: A new national plan for sport, recreation and wellbeing. It’s 18 months old and only got discussed in the House of Lords last week. I’m still trying to work out why it took so long. There’s some good stuff, including a recommendation for a minister for well-being. I’m going to write more about this in the months ahead.
I am loving Hanif Kureishi's newsletter,
. Despite a terrible accident where he lost the use of his hands, arms and legs, Hanif's output is prolific. I love this beautiful man and want him to be well. Subscribe to his newsletter and send him your thoughts.
What an amazing story. And what an amazing man. Imagine writing just *one* song that was celebrating by millions for decades, let alone his incredible back catalogue... Thank you for sharing.
Homer nods--it was 1963.😵💫