Cult Fiction Live! - Sounds From The Small Screen at Colston Hall Review
Posted on: 2018-03-18
Our rating:
A cool, sexy, trippy time machine of classic TV tuneage that was enough to make you want to slip on those flares and long-collared shirt and groove it on down to the nearest disco.
Last year, we were treated to the jazz-infused world of film soundtracks for the hugely enjoyable Sounds For Spies And Private Eyes. This year, hot on the trail of its cool, riff-laden predecessor, we had Cult Fiction!: Sounds From The Small Screen, a truly groovy, nostalgic trip down TV memory lane which ran as part of this year's as-always phenomenally popular Bristol Jazz & Blues Festival at Colston Hall on Saturday 17th March 2018.
A late night performance which rounded off Saturday's all-day roster of gigs and events, conductor William Goodchild led a specially commissioned 30-piece orchestra through a jukebox smorgasbord of some of the most famous and best-loved themes from the small screen. Spanning TV scores and incidental music from the 60s right through to the 80s, for people of a certain age and vintage - and indeed even younger music lovers, who were well-represented in a refreshing cross-section of generations in the audience - this was pure, indulgent musical nirvana. Smiles were broad, themes remembered, and childhoods re-lived.
We were boldly plunged into the cosmic world and mildly cheesy tuneage of the original Star Trek TV series, and from then on the themes came thick and fast. Mission: Impossible, Randall and Hopkirk Deceased and The Persuaders rubbed sonic shoulders with UFO, The Professionals, Starsky and Hutch, and Hawaii 5-0. But the fusion of wah-wah guitars, wailing trumpets and foot-stomping percussion rhythms also occasionally side-stepped the serious shows of the era in favour of more light-hearted, jovial fare such as the comically high-pitched, jittering piccolos of Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em, Are You Being Served (complete with narration from one of the instrumentalists) and the original Adam West-starring, KERPOW!-packed Batman ("Da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaaa. Bat-maaaan!")
Nods of wistful recognition and nostalgic-induced sighs accompanied renditions of the signature theme from Parkinson and a magnificently punchy, spot-on performance of the unforgettable, legendary title music from Grandstand, as did a few selections from Vision On, particularly the instantly recognisable mellow, vibraphone-led incidental theme. Even the sensual, slithering saxophone seductiveness of the immortal Milk Tray advert got a look in.
The cheeky, jestful title cue from The Two Ronnies ("And it's goodnight from me and it's goodnight from them," quipped Goodchild, gesturing to the orchestra) rounded things off. Well, almost - until the enthusiastic, ebullient hollers and cheers from the exuberant crowd enticed them to perform the theme from The Avengers as an encore; a ballsy, hummable and unequivocally fitting barnstormer of a finale if ever there was one.
When it comes to transporting us back in time through the annals of some of the most iconic, jazz and funk-heavy TV themes ever written, this specially put together ensemble of performers had it well and truly nailed. Dynamics and nuances were impeccable and performances utterly faultless (the brass section provided several stunning, knock-out highlights) seguing effortlessly from theme to theme with raw, infectious intensity and audacious, electrifying gutsiness which perfectly recreated the magic of the music and the nostalgia of the period. A cool, sexy, trippy time machine of classic TV tuneage that was enough to make you want to slip on those flares and long-collared shirt and groove it on down to the nearest disco.
Article by:
Jamie is a writer, blogger, journalist, critic, film fan, soundtrack nerd and all-round Bristolian good egg. He loves the music of Philip Glass, the art of Salvador Dali, the writings of Charles Bukowksi and Hunter S Thompson, the irreverence of Harry Hill, and the timeless, straw-chomping exuberance of The Wurzels. You can sometimes find him railing against a surging tide of passing cyclists, or gorging himself senseless on the Oriental delights of a Cosmos all-you-can-eat buffet.
