Phil Everly
The first single I had ever bought was ‘Bye Bye Love.
In late 1986, my friend and promoter Derek Block called me into his office and asked me if I would like to be the opening act on the Everly Brothers tour that he was putting together. He said
“I know you have not done support gigs for years but I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to tour with these legends.”
There was all of a milisecond pause before I accepted and it lead to two of the happiest tours of my life.
When I was fifteen I had joined the army as a soldier in the IJLB and while stationed in Plymouth I remember trying to sing ‘Cathy’s Clown’in the echoing wash room with a lad from Newport and although we got close we could never really agree on which was the melody and which was the harmony.
Over the years it became obvious that it was Phil’s angelic voice that provided the tightest sync against his brother Don and the sound they made together was the “melody” – unless you reproduce exactly what they did you would not get the tune right.
All the brothers’ early hits entered my brain and I tried to learn their songs on my cheap and almost unplayable £5.00 guitar leading to terrible frustrations. How were we to know, for example that ‘Wake up Little Susie’ was played in open tuning?
Not only did they sound amazing but they looked great too. Somewhere between sharply dressed college boys and teddy boys from a period which was just prior to their success in Britain. And those hairstyles!
Years later when I discovered American folk music I began to see where their influences came from and their work is seamlessly embedded in all the roots of my music, perhaps not obviously but it is there. Such great tunes arrangements and voices.
I was late on the bus after the first night because I had over refreshed myself after the first date. Legendary drummer, the late Larrie Londin gave me the cold shoulder and no one spoke to me for most of the first day until pianist Pete Wingfield explained the tour etiquette. When the tour was over Larrie inscribed his battered snare drum head with the words
“Next time don’t be late on the bus’
It was on that tour bus with Hank De Vito and later Buddy Emmons (steel guitar) Phil Cranham (Bass) Pete Wingfield (piano) Albert Lee (Electric guitar) and Larry Londin (Drums) that Phil would sometimes abandon his limousine and come and climb aboard for company and banter with the band.
For me these moments were fantastic.
Stories from the past were interspaced with reminiscences of characters and funny and even poignant incidents.
I would sit across the aisle in the tour bus spellbound. I was sitting next to Phil Everly a founding father of Rock and Roll and all the changes in music that were to follow.
After a few shows I started to notice that Phil would be listening at side of stage because although their audience knew little of me, they did know ‘Streets of London’ which I used to close my set. Both brothers were very complimentary about my work and for my part I never missed one performance of theirs.
I would tuck myself at side of stage and listen to those perfect (yes that is the ONLY word for it) harmonies and look out at the audience of front-row Jennys as they like to call themselves, in total rapture as those heartbreaking songs of love, loss and romance wove their nostalgic and melancholic way into the listeners ears and hearts. I could see the audience re-living their teenage longings and celebrations.
The band were dynamite. Albert’s show stopper ‘Country Boy’ was amazing as Don and Phil took a short break for a sip of wine or a cigarette.
I could never understand how Phil could smoke like he did and sing like he did.
Show business needs rumour of controversy to feed the hunger of predators that prey on upset and flawed personalities. You have to be in it to understand the pressures. It is hard enough being any kind of performer while you try to balance artistic sensibility with a skin like a rhino to shield yourself from critics and begrudgers. Two brothers, six inches apart across one microphone, a shared childhood and the responsibility of holding a career together was bound to cause problems. The miracle was that it took so long to happen and when it was over how much stronger the bond between them seemed to be. Their Southern charm and deference carried them through many public presentations but their personal lives were inevitably eventful.
The most frequent question I was ever asked about the brothers was how they got on and what about their quarrels. I answered in this way.
I never saw a brother look after a brother like Phil looked after Donald.
Don sang lead and Phil never seemed to take his eyes off him when harmonising. Phil could anticipate any slight variation that Don might make (which admittedly was rare) but their harmonies were as tight as any recording could have been.
One night on a double show gig in Lancashire, the brothers were singing on their respective mics when Phil’s broke down. There was a short hiatus whilst the roadies sought a replacement. A murmur began , I think from the audience, suggesting that the boys join on one mic. This was taken up by the band and with a grin Phil duly moved over to Don’s microphone to thunderous applause. We were once again treated to perfectly balanced voices round one mic, just like the old days. The audience and the band loved it.
We ALL loved it.
By the second performance the mic was replaced for the benefit and normal service was resumed but for a few
songs the clock had been turned back and the closeness of the brothers was there for all to see.The musicians had total respect for the brothers and although Don was the lead singer I always felt that it was Phil who gently held the reins.
Don also occasionally travelled on the tour bus, but in my memory it is one journey we made through the black anonymous countryside of somewhere in Europe that I will always remember.
Phil was in the tour bus sitting across the aisle from me and somehow the talk in our enclosed little world had turned to the subject of divorce and the most painful one any of us had experienced.
Several of the band had separations and told their tales and then Phil began.
“One time Donald and I were doing a concert with Buddy and Eddie and a guy sent a message that he wanted to see us at the stage door as he had an emerald to sell…”
At this point I leaned over and touched Phil on the shoulder and asked
“Sorry to interrupt Phil but would that ‘Buddy’ be Buddy Holly?”
“Yes” said Phil looking straight at me.
“And would that ‘Eddie’ be Eddie Cochran?” I added
“Yes” said Phil.
He then proceeded to tell the tale of how the three boys bought the stone between them and what became of the rings they had made once the stone was re cut….
It was a good story and one day I will write a song about it.
However what this appreciation is all about is how for a few short weeks and a few even shorter moments I was connected to the greatest change in popular music history through Phil Everly; a man of huge charm, grace, Southern gentility and humour, who made an unrepeatable contribution to Rock and Roll.
Thank you so much Phil.
Ralph McTell London England Jan 6th 2014