I’ve been a fervent collector of John Barry’s music since the age of about twelve, when, unknown to my mother I’d starve myself in school by saving my lunch money to buy the latest John Barry release, or rarer deleted items. In 1998 I saw him conducting - in his very animated and serpentine manner - his first concert for I think twenty-six years, at London’s Albert Hall. I waited outside later with about a hundred other fans to see the great man leave and perhaps get my programme and CD autographed. It was a long wait and I knew what I wanted to say. I wasn’t going to be cringingly sycophantic, but just state that I thought his love theme for the 1995 Scarlet Letter was a wonderful piece and that I could listen to a whole album of similar music. I thought that would do the trick, a good compliment, not icky, and if ever I met him again I’d be able to say I was the one who said such and such in 1998. Anyway, in all the hullaballoo and over-psyching myself, all I managed was, ‘thanks a lot,’ which barely sounded like a genuine thank you at all! Duh! But I do remember us all breaking out into spontaneous applause as his car disappeared into the night. It was a strongly unifying moment and remains a moving memory.
[Incidentally, I didn’t learn from that, about six months later – when I was working in the civil service, I had Alec Guinness on the telephone. My gut instinct was that apart from clarifying a trivial matter he was actually looking for a chat, and being a knowledgeable fan of old films I could have given him that chat (to hell with my average call handling times!); but infuriatingly I kept to the rules and kept it to business. Again, duh! He died about eighteen months later].
I’ve rambled on somewhat…
What Eddi Fiegel’s book does, in a very readable and fluent style, is tell the story of this creatively influential man in the decade which brought him to the foreground. She interviewed the usually private composer and extracted information not only about his music, but family and private life as well. The two things which most fully come to the fore here are his absolute single-mindedness in what he wanted to do. He took various courses, including a correspondence course when he was in the army in Cyprus, and got himself a good tyrannical agent. Secondly, it’s notable that more than one interviewee refers to the confidence Barry exuded - remaining calm, even at the most pressurised of times. Even on his very first film, Beat Girl (1960), he made known his dissatisfaction with the deadness of the sound in the old style recording studio he was allotted for his modern jazz/rock & roll score, and won the argument when the producer allowed him to re-record it two weeks later in a better equipped environment.
Bond, the many Bryan Forbes films, Zulu, The Ipcress File, The Knack, The Lion In Winter, Midnight Cowboy etc are all covered here, as well as his early days with his group, The John Barry Seven. As well as the films, it’s fascinating to hear Barry talk of his larger than life father, the bombing of York in the war, life in the army, his time as a pop musician and arranger for EMI and later Ember, and actually mentioning his previous wives and girlfriends (who included actress/model/singer Jane Birken). The cast of characters, many interviewed by Fiegel, include Michael Caine, Terence Stamp, editor Peter Hunt (who is especially enlightening), Bryan Forbes and Adam Faith. They not only add to the understanding of the man himself, but of what it was like to be in swinging 1960s London. Barry was very much the quintessential 1960s playboy – regularly with a new girlfriend, new wife, and new child. I’ve always suspected (possibly wrongly) that there was perhaps an element of Catholic guilt there in later life at his behaviour. I don’t know, but it would have been nice to have gotten an angle. He could be a blunt Yorkshireman at times, so perhaps he couldn’t give a toss! But he was prone to moods. At one party Stanley Baker asks, ‘John, why have you got to be so f**king miserable?’ To which Barry replied, ‘Well, what’s there to be happy about?’ The tone of which amused Baker.
The following quote from Barry, which made me laugh, probably says much about his mixed feelings towards his home town. “If you go to York on a mid-October day when it’s raining, you’d get the hell out of there as well. It’s misery personified. All those people standing in queues waiting for buses in the rain. And then a bus comes and everyone gets excited: ‘Ooh look, the bus is coming!’” Smallness and mundanity wasn’t for the very ambitious Barry. He couldn’t wait to get to London, and when the British film industry dried up in the 70s he couldn’t wait to get to America.
One of the best quotes in the book at getting to the heart of the Barry sound comes from pop/rock musician, Barry Adamson, ‘The way he does things – the strings on top, the trombones at the bottom, there’s an accessibility there, a simplicity and succinctness in the discovery of a chord. It’s so graceful in terms of that. Listening to him I’ve learnt to just happen upon things musically myself, just to listen to where the hands fall on the piano. Even the way he puts a line together is original. Suspense is suspense, sadness is sadness and joy is joy. But what’s remarkable is to convey those emotions and have your own identity in there as well…’
And that’s John Barry. Whether it’s an action piece from a James Bond film, a choral from The Lion In Winter, broad orchestral sweep from Out Of Africa or Dances With Wolves, a sultry piece of jazz from Body Heat, or a longing and melancholic piano solo from Somewhere In Time, the melody, the structure, the chords, whatever, you can immediately recognise his sound.
The title of the book is 'John Barry: A Sixties Theme,' which is perhaps my only minor gripe. I would have loved the book to have carried on in the same vein into the 70s - when the industry in Britain was seriously diminishing; what was the idea behind his yearlong move to Majorca in 1975?; what were his longer-term thoughts on what was to be a temporary move to the US to score Eleanor And Franklyn?; and through to the 80s and 90s when he was clearly finding the new executive way films were being produced a strain on his creativity. In the sixties a composer had perhaps one or two people to liaise with, in the 80’s and 90s it was an army of executive producers all wanting their say, often contradictory, and often from characters with not a clue as to what film music, or even film making was all about.
This is a very readable book that covers both Barry, the atmosphere, the places, and characters of swinging sixties London. It’s that placing of the artist in question in so evocative a place and time that easily allows me to be able to recommend this book very highly.
[I believe an updated version was released after his death in 2011. This review is with regard to the original 1998 printing].