Transaction with the Trinity, Deal with the Devil

It's in the Underguide sonny!

So, anyway.

Prelude
It was the mid 60s. Cliff had it all. He had rock and he had roll. He had the press calling him the British Elvis Presley. He had wine, women and song. Well mostly song. In fact, almost entirely song. OK, maybe a couple of glasses of plonk during a night out with Una Stubbs. But plenty of song. Yes, Cliff had it all.



'I want to live forever', said Cliff.

'You mean eternal life?' said God.

'Same thing, surely?' asked Cliff.

'Well, no', replied God, 'I can sort out your "I am the way and the truth and the life" variety quick as a wink. But the common-or-garden living forever I can't help you with'.

Cliff decided he wanted both. God was right of course. The eternal life business was quite simple really; The Truth can set you free. So Cliff got that organised, just like God had said, quick as a wink.

'But now! To live forever!' Cliff contemplated. 'I want to be the Peter Pan of Rock'.

'You mean the Peter Pan of Pop?' said an altogether distinctly more fallen being.

'Same thing, surely?' asked Cliff.

'Well, no', replied the Devil, who went on to explain:

'A child is born who's gaze will fall upon seven performers upon seven stages. One performer will live forever. Six performers will not.'- The Prevarication according to Paff, chapter 7 verse 7

'So, the Peter Pan of Pop then!' Cliff considered. 'It's got a ring to it.'


Movement 1
It was the late 60s. Royal Albert Hall. Back-stage. Cliff waited, without The Shadows for a change, preparing to go on. A toddler sat in the lap of the wife of the lead singer of the support act, who had just finished their set. The support act unplugged their guitars and the like, and walked off, waving - mistakenly - to what they thought was rapturous applause for them, but in a moment would realise was rapturous applause for the guy headlining the show who was just coming on.

This was the first moment:

• The toddler fidgeted about on his mother's lap - as fidgety toddlers do.
• Cliff skipped onto the stage, took a bow and launched into Living Doll.
• The toddler looked on and caught Cliff's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

In this moment, the Peter Pan of Pop was born.

Movement 2

It was the late 70s. Shepherds Bush Studios. Back-stage. Mike Oldfield waited, alongside UK cop show stars Martin Shaw, Lewis Collins and Gordon Jackson, preparing to go on. A young kid sat on the beanbags stage right, having earlier received his Jim'll Fix It badge for something that has no relevance in the slightest to the story so will be glossed over, thinking - mistakenly - that his parents would let him keep his entire £10 appearance fee rather than having to share it with his brother. Up next was the kid who wanted to be thrown out the back of a moving van into a pile of cardboard boxes by Bodie and Doyle of The Professionals. This would be followed by the kid who wanted to actually play Mike Oldfield's actual Tubular Bell.

This was the second moment:

• The young kid sat still on his beanbag - as the stage manager had instructed him to do.
• Mike Oldfield strolled onto the stage, took a seat (as 70 musicians used to do) and launched into Tubular Bells.
• The kid looked on and caught Mike Oldfield's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

In this moment, the kid who wanted to actually play Mike Oldfield's actual Tubular Bell, on cue, struck the bell with the enthusiasm of - well of a kid playing Mike Oldfield's actual Tubular Bell. The gaze was reflected - deflected - by the sheen of the bell. The gaze fell elsewhere...

Gordon Jackson, co-star of The Professionals, acclaimed actor, and star of numerous film and TV dramas, standing watching stage left, would find 20 years later that his career was tragically cut short.

Mike Oldfield was quite literally saved by the bell.

Movement 3
It was the mid 80s. A venue just down the road from the Elephant & Castle. Back-stage. Phil Lynott waited, not with Thin Lizzy who had recently disbanded, but with his own backing band, preparing to go on. A teenage kid arrived late, suspecting - mistakenly - that Chas and Dave who were - oddly, one might say - on the same bill would not be worth hearing. The kid worked his way around the side to get up closer to the stage whilst Chas and Dave, who were - oddly, one might say - not that bad, finished up their set.

This was the third moment:

• The teenage kid jigged about and cheered expectantly with the rest of the crowd - as psyched-up concert goers do.
• Phil Lynott strode onto the stage, took his place in front of the centre mike stand and launched into Yellow Pearl.
• The kid looked on and caught Phil Lynott's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

Phil Lynott, Thin Lizzy frontman, Irish rocker, bassist and lyricist, would find 2 years later that his rock 'n' roll lifestyle had caught up with him.

Movement 4
It was the mid 80s. A big gig just off the North Circular. Back-stage. Michael Hutchence waited with the rest of INXS, preparing to go on. A teenage kid had got there early, convinced - mistakenly - that the early bird catches the short queue for the burgers. Giving up on the short queue for the burgers, the kid got close enough to the stage to hear the sound system straight and avoid the whole issue of listening to the stadium echo.

This was the fourth moment:

• The teenage kid stood watching the huge stage-side screens - as stadium gig attendees do.
• Michael Hutchence swaggered onto the stage, took a microphone from somewhere and launched into Listen Like Thieves.
• The kid looked on and caught Michael Hutchence's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

Michael Hutchence, INXS lead vocalist, Aussie heartthrob and rock star, would find 10 years later that a suicide verdict was being handed down as an explanation for his untimely end.

Interlude
It was the mid 80s. A bus shelter outside a kebab shop in Wembley. Not back-stage, just the back of beyond. Mike Peters waited for the number 92 with the rest of The Alarm, preparing to go home. A teenage kid had left Wembley Stadium part way through a Queen gig because the giant inflatable Freddy Mercury has escaped from the stadium, and he was convinced - mistakenly - that he could catch said giant inflatable Freddy Mercury and somehow get it in the boot of the car. The kid gave up when the giant inflatable Freddy Mercury started drifting across a building site, and upon realising you can't get back in to Wembley once the gig is well underway, decided to go for a kebab.

This was not the fifth moment:

• The teenage kid rounded the corner by the bus stop and headed purposefully for the kebab shop door - as starving hungry potential kebab purchasers do.
• Mike Peters shuffled about a bit, took his guitar from its case and launched into an acoustic busking version of Sixty Eight Guns.
• The kid looked on and caught Mike Peters' eye.
• The look became a gaze.

In this moment, the number 92 rounded the corner and an OAP on her way back from late night shopping at Brent Cross rang the bell. The bus stopped. Mike Peters decided against continuing with the busking, and he and The Alarm turned and got on the bus.

Mike Peters was quite literally saved by the bell.

Movement 5
It was the mid 80s. A large concert near Stevenage. Back-stage. Stuart Adamson waited with the rest of Big Country, preparing to go on. A teenage kid was working against the tide of the crowd, thinking - mistakenly - that the occupants of the crowded bar would move along as something was about to happen on stage. The reverse happened when the occupants of the crowded bar checked the gig guide, realised that the headline act weren't due on for a while, and stayed for another round.

This was the fifth moment:

• The teenage kid moved into the recently vacated area in front of the stage - as lone Big Country fans do.
• Stuart Adamson stepped onto the stage, took up his stance with the other two guys at right at the stage edge and launched into Fields of Fire.
• The kid looked on and caught Stuart Adamson's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

Stuart Adamson, Big Country founder, Scots guitar hero, rocker and wordsmith, would find that 15 years later depression and drink had got the better of him.

Movement 6
It was the mid 80s. A huge world tour climax show just off the A1. Back-stage. Freddy Mercury waited with the rest of Queen, preparing to go on. A teenage kid made his way to the very back of the gig, suspecting - mistakenly - that it would be hugely hazardous to be in the middle of a crowd of 120,000 Queen fans when they got going with the Radio Ga Ga clapping. It would instead turn out to be hugely hazardous during the Wayne's World headbanging bit in the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody.

This was the sixth moment:

• The teenage kid sat on the fence right at the back - as Radio Ga Ga hazard avoiding fans do.
• Freddy Mercury strutted onto the stage, took hold of his iconic half-length microphone stand and launched into One Vision.
• The kid looked on and ... didn't stand a hope of catching Freddy's eye. However, Freddy, the consummate performer capable of drawing in an audience of any size, looked right out to the back, and yes, the kid looked on and caught Freddy Mercury's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

Freddy Mercury, Queen member, singer, songwriter, showman and superstar, would find that 5 years later he had succumbed to that most dreadful of illnesses.

Movement 7
It was the early 90s. An open-air festival event in Hertfordshire. Back-stage. Stevie Ray Vaughan waited alongside Eric Clapton and his band, preparing to go on. A twenty-something guy had turned up late, thinking - mistakenly - that there was no point in getting there early just to stand and watch Tears For Fears in the howling wind and pouring rain. Tears for Fears were glad to get off, and the pop fans made their way to the burger vans whilst the blues fans made their way to the front to stand and watch a collection of guitar heros in the howling wind and pouring rain.

This was the seventh moment:

• The twenty-something guy found a spot near the front with some elbow room - as closet air-guitarists do.
• Eric Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan sauntered onto the stage, took their favourite Fender Strats from the guitar racks and launched into Before You Accuse Me.
• The guy looked on and caught Eric Clapton's eye.
• The look became a gaze.

In this moment, Eric bust a G-string during the first 12-bar solo of the song and like a true pro turned, gave Stevie Ray the nod, and whipped the broken string out whilst continuing to play rhythm on five strings. The gaze was reflected - deflected - by the sheen of that broken .023 gauge steel G. The gaze fell elsewhere...

Stevie Ray Vaughan, influential blues player and electric guitarist extraordinaire, would find that 2 months later he would be a helpless passenger as his helicopter ride to Chicago crashed down.

Finale
It was the early 90s. Cliff had it all. At that same open-air festival event in Hertfordshire, it had gone full circle. He was looking younger than ever, resplendent in his pink stage jacket. Even if he did say so himself. He had rock and he had roll. He was back with the Shadows. OK, so those couple of glasses of plonk and that night out with Una Stubbs seemed a long time ago. They were a long time ago. Cliff felt that he could live forever.

'So, the Peter Pan of Pop!' Cliff concluded. 'It's still got a ring to it.'