Review: Cliff Richard - 32 Minutes And 17 Seconds (1962)
Tracks: 1) It’ll Be Me; 2) So I’ve Been Told; 3) How Long Is Forever; 4) I’m Walkin’ The Blues; 5) Turn Around; 6) Blueberry Hill; 7) Let’s Make A Memory; 8) When My Dream Boat Comes Home; 9) I’m On My Way; 10) Spanish Harlem; 11) You Don’t Know; 12) Falling In Love With Love; 13) Who Are We To Say; 14) I Wake Up Cryin’.
REVIEW
Damn digital era — my copy of this album actually runs for 33 minutes and 16 seconds, and I have no idea if this is just because of extra intervals between tracks, or because there has been a bit of slowing down during the analog-to-digital transfer, or because it’s the general theory of relativity that’s been at work here... though the latter would probably be too much of an honor for an album that is not in the least memorable. Actually, it is not a serious drop down in quality from 21 Today, just a bit blander and less inspired on most counts, giving you a very clear idea that absolutely nothing has changed in the field of British popular music from late ’61 to late ’62. Three weeks later, the Beatles would release ‘Love Me Do’ — which is, even all alone by itself, superior in spirit, if not execution, to everything on this LP — but Cliff’s reign would still continue unabated for several more months. It is kinda telling, though, that in this case he ended up upstaged by his own backing band: the Shadows’ second album, released almost at the same time, went all the way to the top of the charts while 32 Minutes stalled at #3.
Indeed, it seems as if the Shadows, whose tracks now occupy slightly less than half of the album, were by now saving their best efforts for their own career — as evidenced by the fairly lackluster cover of Jerry Lee Lewis’ ‘It’ll Be Me’ which opens the album, on which Cliff clearly imitates Jerry’s grinning singing style but can never hope to match it because, like the good clean English kid he is, he always has to keep decorum and restraint in the back of his mind. Hank Marvin, too, sounds distraught and unfocused with his solo, and the slow-as-hell and robotic rhythm section has anything but true rock’n’roll drive on its own mind. Released as a single, the song still became a Top 10 hit in many European countries, but this simply reflected ongoing hunger for the real thing.
Other Shadows-backed numbers include ‘Blueberry Hill’, this time imitating Elvis with the same kind of pale-shadow effect; another Tepper-Bennett original, ‘I’m Walkin’ The Blues’, a kiddy ditty with one of the cheesiest bridge sections ever found in these cheesemasters’ repertoire ("when you moved out, Mr. Blues walked in" — who the hell calls the blues mister?); an okayish rewrite of ‘Saints’ (‘When My Dreamboat Comes Home’) on which Brian Bennett’s powerhouse drumming may be the only point worth mentioning; and a very, very weird arrangement of the blues song ‘You Don’t Know’, credited to doo-wop artist Walter Spriggs and formerly recorded by B. B. King — for some reason, the band here thought that it would be cool to set it to the instrumental hook of ‘Hoochie Coochie Man’ and rework the vocal part to the melody of ‘Fever’. Oh, and utilize only acoustic guitars for the recording. The result is... well, at least it’s a little weird.
Under these circumstances, Norrie Paramor’s orchestral tracks almost end up looking superior, particularly the solid cover of ‘Spanish Harlem’ and the proto-Dusty Springfield upbeat vibe of Bill Crompton’s ‘Let’s Make A Memory’. Still way too many Tepper-Bennett contributions on this side of the divide, though; but at least the album closes with a Burt Bacharach composition (‘I Wake Up Cryin’), and although I have never been swayed over by the Bacharach legend, at least this song has a funny spider-ish bassline saving it from dissolving into murky orchestral sap.
On the whole, though, trying to divide these songs into «quality cuts» and «filler tripe» is a rotten affair — it is another of those records where you either buy into it or not, period. At least there was some sense of purpose behind 21 Today (to celebrate Cliff’s birthday!), but this follow-up does not even try to surprise you with the diversity factor, and fails more so than before to convince the world that the UK pop scene is anything more than a second-rate imitation of the US scene.
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