Big Red Book
Celebrating television's This Is Your Life
Noddy HOLDER (1946-)
THIS IS YOUR LIFE - Noddy Holder, musician, songwriter and actor, was surprised by Michael Aspel at the BBC studios in Manchester, having been led to believe he was there to appear on an edition of The Mrs Merton Show.
Noddy, who was born in Walsall, formed the group The Rockin' Phantoms while still at school. After playing with several other bands, he joined The N'Betweens in 1966, a group which eventually became Slade - one of Britain's top-selling rock bands of the 1970s, which clocked up 21 hit singles, including the 1973 Christmas chart-topper Merry Xmas Everybody.
After a string of hit singles and albums, countless television appearances and world tours, Noddy, who had fronted Slade as the vocalist, rhythm guitarist and songwriter, left the band in 1992 to pursue a career away from music with a regular stint as a radio presenter with Piccadilly Radio in Manchester and acting work, which included the ITV comedy-drama series The Grimleys.
"Oh no! I don't believe it! My gast is flabbered!"
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My parents always found it hard to understand my success with Slade. I don't think my mum realised I was famous until I was on This Is Your Life, although she and all my aunties were more over the moon meeting Michael Aspel than anything else. My mum was eighty then. My dad was no longer with us. He died in the late '80s.
The last time I saw Dave, Don and Jim all together was when I was caught for the Christmas edition of This Is Your Life in 1996. We got on fine, although I didn't see much of them that night. I had no idea I was to be 'done' by Michael Aspel. My family and friends had all been sworn to secrecy. I thought I was appearing on Mrs Merton's Christmas Show. I know Caroline Aherne and my partner Suzan had suggested I could be one of Mrs Merton's guests as the set up. When I got to the BBC, a researcher met me at the door of the studio and asked if I'd do a quick walk-on rehearsal before I went to get ready. I hadn't even had a chance to change out of my scraggy clothes and into a suit. I was told to walk through two big doors on to the stage. I thought it was strange because the studio was awfully quiet. Suddenly I saw all these people. I thought, 'Bloody hell, some idiot has let the audience in early'. Then Michael Aspel appeared from behind me. I was gobsmacked. Usually, when they do a hit, people have two or three hours to calm down before the show starts. I went straight to the dressing room, changed, downed a double vodka and I was on.
That was a fantastic night. There were people there who I hadn't seen in years. I had a real cross-section of guests. The showbiz lot included Roy Wood, Brian May, Samantha Janus, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, Caroline Aherne and Craig Cash, Suzi Quatro, Toyah, Alan Freeman, Keith Chegwin and Mark and Lard from Radio One. Ozzy was supposed to come, but he missed his plane from LA.
Vic and Bob told a great story when they came on. Everyone thought they were making it up, but it was true. It happened the night I went to see them live in Manchester. Afterwards we went for a drink at the Britannia Hotel. We were walking through the revolving doors into the bar when suddenly this pair of legs came through the ceiling. It was like one of their sketches. This bloke had fallen through the floor up to his waist and his legs were dangling down between the revolving doors. We later found out that he was on a stag night and someone had locked him in a broom cupboard. He was really claustrophobic and he had panicked so much that he had kicked his way through the floor.
Bob also told a story about Alex Higgins threatening to beat him up. That happened the same night. Alex was in the bar and got really angry because Bob wouldn't buy him a drink. It's no wonder. He'd been insulting Bob all night for no reason, then he started insisting that he buy him a drink. I've known Alex for twenty years, so I had to step in and sort it out. Alex is as nice as pie when he's sober, but very obnoxious when he's pissed.
The audience thought they were making these stories up, but they really happened. The final star guest on my This Is Your Life was my little boy Django – he was about two at the time and hadn't really got a clue about what was going on, but he rose to the occasion. Django being born was the most important thing to happen to me in the nineties. He's named after Django Reinhardt the gypsy jazz guitarist who played with Stephane Grappelli in The Hot Club Quintet in Paris in the 1930s and '40s. He was always a big hero of mine and I always said that if I had a son I'd call him Django. Django's full name is Django Jack – in honour of my dad – he would have adored him. He's five now and a real chip off the old block; if ever there was a star in the making this boy is it! I never thought I'd be a dad again in my late forties but it's great. I get to do a lot of the things with him that I wasn't around to do with Charisse and Jessica.
My after-show party has gone down in This Is Your Life legend as one of the greatest – so all the team tell me everytime they see me. (But I bet they say that to all the guys!) We all rolled back to the V&A Hotel in the early hours of the morning to continue the party that had started at the BBC in Oxford Road, Manchester. I was dead chuffed that all Slade's old road crew turned up on the show and they were well up for making the most of all the free booze. They wasted no time in competing with Roy Wood to drunkenly chat up the show's researchers and Samantha Janus... some things never change! We welcomed several gate-crashers including the Geordie actor Tim Healy who joined in as we all sang songs round the piano. I remember Tim, pint in hand, was keeping rhythm by banging a tin tray on his head. A truly memorable night.
As the public face of the group, it was obvious that Noddy Holder would go on to occupy British national treasure status. As John Punter assesses, Holder is 'one of the great voices in rock'n'roll and a great songwriter.' Slade laureate Paul Cookson ventures, 'I think there's two Noddys. There's the rock'n'roll Noddy, 'Cum On Feel the Noize', and there is the autobiographical, thoughtful Noddy with things like 'Far Far Away' and 'How Does It Feel'.'
Diversifying from playing music, Holder had begun broadcasting during the eighties, and in the nineties became a popular regular presenter on Manchester's Piccadilly Radio. In 1990, Holder started dating Suzan Price, a researcher on the show Central Weekend Live. In January 1995, she gave birth to their son, Django. By the mid-nineties, thanks in part to Britpop and the 'new lad' movement, the seventies seemed again to become ultra-fashionable, especially with the patronage of Oasis, and in November 1996, Holder was the target of Michael Aspel's This Is Your Life - the big red book was brandished at him. The ruse was that he was in Granada Television Centre [Bigredbook.info editor: this edition was recorded at the BBC studios in Manchester] to appear with Mrs Merton, writer and comedian Caroline Aherne's alter-ego, on her talk show; instead, he was called to celebrate his life. 'I've never been speechless, but tonight, definitely,' Holder said after being surprised. His mother Leah was there, partner Suzan, as were daughters Charisse and Jessica.
In the thoroughly urbane manner that had endeared him to millions, after a compilation of Slade hits had shown, Aspel said: 'They were great days for you, and they were great days for the rest of Slade - Jim Lea, Don Powell, and Dave Hill!' The other three members of Slade duly came on to play tribute, furthering the feeling that the group were simply resting as opposed to being ripped asunder.
Dave Hill recounted a well-told-yet-still-incredulous Bahamian tale: 'We were put in an expensive hotel and all our food was paid for, and we just run up bills and everything; the manager, Dan Darrow, comes along and says, "where's me money?"... we owed all this money and we had to stay there to pay this debt off.' As Hill recounted the tale, Powell looked at his watch, to suggest Hill was going on a bit. 'But it was an amazing experience,' Hill continued - 'we all lived together in a one-room place - we all learned to put up with each other, and not share a room together again!'
'Stranded in the Bahamas!' Aspel concluded.
The others all laughed and nodded and moved over to the front row of the seats opposite, with only Hill showing real affection to Holder. Phil Burnell appeared; and then Powell spoke of the fateful cross-Channel ferry meeting, and of Holder's exploits in a toilet in Torquay.
Gary Glitter appeared and recounted their 1966 residency in Kiel. Steffan Chandler represented his father, who had died that July, saying how Holder taught him how to swear when he was younger. Keith Altham recounted the skinhead tale; DJ Alan Freeman came on and gave a suitably gushing eulogy, commenting that although he thought Get Down and Get With It sounded vulgar, he loved it and that they were a huge part of the 'glam-metal syndrome', making it sound something like the military-industrial complex. 'Their music has never been in: it's never been out but it's always been there, and as long as there is pop music and rock music, it will be part of us, and Noddy, you're a clever little cookie, alright?'
After Suzi Quatro, Brian May recounted how Freddie Mercury was telling Slade what they should do with their live act, and May was waiting for Holder to explode, yet replied 'You guys, probably have a point, which I thought was very forbearing of you.' Jim Lea told the Reading arrival story, and Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer acknowledged their Slade skits. Keith Chegwin and Toyah Willcox talked of the Roll With It programme. Samantha Janus talked of the work they had done on the forthcoming TV show, The Grimleys,
Most touching of all was the appearance of many from Slade's old road crew, and finally, Swin, Graham Swinnerton, who had gone on to become one of the most respected tour managers in the business. He had flown in from America where he was working with The Fugees, at that point one of the biggest acts in the world. In his very affectionate tribute, he remarked that Holder was one of the regular guys, one of the crew. The climax of the show was the then two-year-old Django 'performing' 'Coz I Luv You' on stage at The Trumpet. After Django appeared, there was the standard walk to the front of the stage with everyone gathered around. Lea bounded out to be by Holder's side.
Chris Charlesworth was there as well. 'They didn't require me to tell an anecdote, just appear on stage with all the rest,' he recalls. 'I was all set to talk about staying in the 13 Balkans in Amsterdam. There was a hospitality room with free booze at the Granada Centre in Manchester, [Bigredbook.info editor: this edition was recorded at the BBC studios in Manchester] then a party there afterwards, and then another in the bar at the hotel where everyone was staying. It went on very late and everyone got massively sloshed.'
just backdated - a blog by Chris Charlesworth 24 November 2014
In November 1996 I found myself at the old Granada TV Studios in Manchester [Bigredbook.info editor: this edition was recorded at the BBC studios in Manchester] for the recording of Noddy Holder's This Is Your Life. Originally they'd asked me to emerge from behind the curtain to 'surprise' Nod but in the event my services weren't required, though I was on stage throughout, sat to the side with all the other guests.
I was going to say: "Remember The 13 Balkans Nod? And how the night ended?" He might have forgotten this story but the gist of it is that after a show at the Paradiso in Amsterdam, we'd all gone back to our hotel, The 13 Balkans, from where – after we'd consumed far too much brandy – Nod and I ventured out on to the streets in search of the kind of fun and games that can be found in the red-light area of this magnificent city. We'd chanced our arm in a house of ill-repute, only to be shown the door for being too drunk, probably a good thing too.
All this came to mind last week as I was deleting some old files from my computer and came across a letter I'd written to my now long-deceased father whom I knew to be a fan of This Is Your Life. I'd figured he'd be interested in how it all worked, and the day after I got back to London, I wrote to him as follows:
Dear Dad
I'm back in London and I thought I'd write and tell you how This Is Your Life went.
We had a rehearsal in the afternoon with Michael Aspel going over the lines and a stand-in taking the part of Noddy Holder, the special guest. Actually there were stand-ins for some of the other guests too. Everybody was shown where they were to sit... indeed all the places had names on, but the names were taken off in the evening.
When the rehearsal was over we were all herded into the green room, a sort of hospitality suite where there was complimentary wine and beer, together with sandwiches, and we had to wait quite a long time there before Noddy arrived at the TV studio. He'd been told he was appearing on another programme, a chat show, and not until he came through the doors and appeared on the set to be greeted by Aspel did he know he was on This Is Your Life. He looked very surprised indeed.
At that point there was a ten-minute break for Noddy to realise what was going on, and then the show started again. I was on the set, to the right, in the second row, looking out on to the studio audience of about 400 people. Aspel read his lines from the big red book and the guests came through the big door, just as you see them on TV. The only difference was that every so often Aspel would fluff his lines and we had to go back and start again. Indeed, after it was all over we all had to go back to do a few bits again because his voice hadn't come through clearly. At the end everybody stood up and approached the front of the stage, me included, smiling out at the studio audience.
After that we had a knees-up in the BBC dining room... again food and drinks provided free of charge. We also had an opportunity to watch the show they'd just made on a video screen, and you can see me from time to time even though I don't actually say anything. After that we all went back to the hotel and continued drinking in the bar until heaven knows how late... I wasn't exactly in the peak of physical condition this morning, but I'm back in shape now.
I think they're going to show it on the Friday before Christmas because it has a Christmassy theme. Slade's biggest hit was 'Merry Christmas Everybody', of course, and this was played several times during the show, and at the end when everybody joined in.
The other thing I remember – which I didn't tell my dad – was that a table had been set up in the BBC dining room from which expenses would be paid, mostly for travel and 'refreshments', and we all queued to receive wads of cash from a BBC purser. All this money, oodles of it, was promptly spent by us all in the bar at the hotel.
just backdated - a blog by Chris Charlesworth 2 December 2015
First in and last out, they are the unsung heroes of the rock trade and some of them become as important as the lead singer, not that you'd know it or get the group to admit it. The famous ones – Neil Aspinall, Ian Stewart, Richard Cole – get mentioned in biographies but that's because the groups they worked for became legends and so did they. Most ply their trade conscientiously and stay out of the limelight, often finding themselves without a job when the group breaks up, and often without much to fall back on either.
One of the best of this hardy breed was Graham 'Swinn' Swinnerton, Slade's tour manager throughout their career, who became a victim of cancer on Monday after a long period of illness. A schoolfriend of Don Powell, Swinn helped hump the gear for The Vendors, Powell and Dave Hill's first band, beginning in 1964, juggling this with his job at Woden Transformers in Bilston until Chas Chandler took over Slade's management in 1969 and offered him £18 a week to work full-time for them. Swinn thus took charge of a road crew that supported Slade for the next 15 years and included their sound man Charlie – "Full poke, Charlie!" – Newham, Johnny Jones, known as JJ, Hayden Donovan and Scotsman Robbie Wilson, "whose wilful disregard for conventional behaviour became a constant source of amusement for the touring party", as I put it in my Slade biography Feel The Noize. Somehow or other Swinn – like all the best roadies a big, genial, unflappable bloke – kept them all in order.
I interviewed Swinn for that book and he was hilariously indiscreet, recalling tales of life on the road that involved guns, jail, groupies, mad dashes from one gig to another and, of course, rivers of alcohol. A firm believer in the parsimonious economic principles that always kept Slade's feet firmly on the ground, Swinn drove the band around in an ageing Vauxhall Velox long after they'd topped the UK charts, picking them up from their family homes in the Wolverhampton area and dropping them off in the early hours when the gig was done.
Slade were amongst the hardest working bands of their era – a key factor in their rise to prominence – and this meant their road crew had to work hard too. Not for them the modern-day routine of an album and a world tour followed by a year off; no, there was no slackening off of the pace in those days, so Swinn and his merry men travelled the world with Slade, from all the points of the compass in the UK to all over Europe, behind what was then known as the Iron Curtain, to America, Canada, Japan and Australia, a relentless grind that lasted until the end of the seventies. Swinn was there when The N'Betweens played to a handful of punters in Walsall pubs, he was there when Slade drew 20,000 fans to Earls Court in 1973 and he was there when Nod, Jim, Dave and Don stole the show at the Reading Festival in 1980, ever watchful, ever dutiful to their needs. The road-weary lyrics to Slade's 1974 hit 'The Bangin' Man' were inspired by Swinn's relentless efficiency in waking them up in hotel rooms in time to hit the road for the next show.
When Slade went to live in New York in 1975 Swinn went with them, taking up residence in an apartment on the East Side, not far from where Jim Lea and Dave Hill lived. Don lived downtown and Noddy became a permanent resident at the Mayflower Hotel and, as he did in Wolverhampton, he picked them up and drove them to gigs, this time all over America. In the doldrums years after they returned to the UK and found themselves disdained by punk rockers Swinn drove them to cabaret shows at Baileys in Leicester and Watford. Nod and Don didn't mind the cabaret shows but Jim and Dave hated them, and they travelled separately, the former pair in what became known as the Happy Car, the latter two in the Hospital Car. Swinn insisted on driving the Happy Car.
Swinn stuck with Slade during the eighties, taking on other work when his preferred clients were becalmed. When Slade first cut down on their touring at the end of the seventies, Swinn went to work for Saxon, taking other members of Slade's crew with him, but his most consistent employers after Slade were Southside Johnny & The Asbury Dukes, Slade fans one and all, which brought him into contact with their pal Bruce Springsteen. "Bruce would come on stage and play with them at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park," Swinn told Jim Lea, "and he was usually pissed, so I had to lead him off. Southside told Bruce that I used to work for Slade and Bruce said he loved Slade. I reckon Bruce nicked a bit of his showmanship from Nod."
He also worked for Ian Matthews and for The Damned and, pressed into service against his better judgement by Chas Chandler, tour managed the reunited Animals in 1983. "Chas was as bad as the rest of them when it came to arguing," he told me when I interviewed him for Feel The Noize. "He once had Eric Burdon by the scruff of the neck." Another regular employer was The Fugees, followed by solo stints for both Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill. "Swinn said they all had $10,000 Rolex watches but were always late on stage because they couldn't tell the time," says Jim. "He was amazed that when Lauryn Hill went over to do German TV she had an entourage of 27. When Slade did it, it was just us and him."
The last time I saw Swinn was in November 1996 when Noddy appeared on This Is Your Life, filmed at the Granada TV studios in Manchester [Bigredbook.info editor: this edition was recorded at the BBC studios in Manchester]. The final guest at this show was always supposed to be the biggest surprise of the night – a long lost relative flown in from Australia or a childhood friend unseen for 30 years – but on Nod's show it was the Slade road crew, all five or six them, assembled by Swinn who, in later years, became especially close to Nod.
"Our crew were feared all over the world," says Jim, who'd alerted me to Swinn's condition earlier this year. "When we went to Poland, they said we couldn't go back. So I said, 'Didn't you like the group then', and the promoter said, 'Group fine. Road crew, no, no, no!'"
RIP Swinn.
Series 37 subjects
Steve Redgrave | Gary Rhodes | Toyah Willcox | Freddie Young | John Motson | Jeremy Clarkson | John Rands | Jill Dando