Review by John Aizlewood
"For all Sir Cliff Richard's aversion to musical edge, his 250-million sales over 50 years and the remarkably unprobing ride he's been given (witness Piers Morgan's simpering recent effort) the man who will be 69 in a fortnight remains as insecure as an acne-ridden schoolgirl on prom night. As such, he attempted to ban reviewers from two of his three 02 dates.
Quite what he had to fear remains a mystery. Last night's 160-minute 41-song, apparently final reunion with his second major backing group The Shadows ignored the last 33 years, bar three covers from their current (and current Number 6) album.
'People forget we're a rock 'n' roll band,' explained Richard before Nine Times Out Of Ten, oblivious to being unable to rock nor roll, despite seeing himself as the Cheshunt Elvis.
Naturally, Cliff's insistence on being Cliff meant he didn't make things easy for himself. A well-observed, thoughtful speech berating pop's X Factorisation was ruined by being delivered in a manner that would have been patronising were it not so prissy.
And, although he engendered unrelenting, tea-party-esque affection, as befits an act whose fans throw teddy bears rather than knickers on stage, he is an excitement-free zone.
Thrills were the preserve of The Shadows, who for 20 minutes each half, pumped up the volume, unfurled their trademark snail's-pace choreography and hurtled through some of their hits. Teeth whiter than white and blessed with nifty comic timing, Hank Marvin is unquestionably the most influential British guitarist.
Even at 67, the Jehovah's Witness showed he can still tingle spines on Wonderful Land and Atlantis. Yet Richard, the perennial outsider if not quite the maverick he thinks he is, has not survived and prospered through good fortune alone.
His voice was never soulless, indeed there was almost gravitas on Visions, but give him a friendly, conversational song which nobody could possibly dislike ‹ such as In The Country, Summer Holiday, Living Doll or The Young Ones ‹ and he delivered it perfectly, while evoking a more innocent, post-rationing, pre-three-day-week, coffee bar Britain.
Even the surely peculiar-even-in-1962 Bachelor Boy (a rare Richard co-write) had a spring in its step and they rather brilliantly re-invented and de-rocked Elvis Presley's All Shook Up by slowing it down, playing it acoustically and drenching it in harmonies.
As history will probably say of Richard's entire career: not that bad."