WHEN THE BOOMERS WERE ROCKIN’ ALL OVER THE WORLD...
“We were there!” cry the cast of John O’Farrell’s jukebox tribute to the 1985 Live Aid concert. Memories undimmed nearly forty years on, heres a Coldstream Guards bandsman proud to be opener for the greatest rock bands ever; here’s Suzanne (Jackie Clune) who was an A level kid in a record shop in Weston Super Mare; here’s the sound guy and the admin assistant who surfed the chaos of Geldof’s determination to get the vast transatlantic gig up in 38 days. A burst of We Are The Champions rises – the famous numbers are, throughout, elegantly inserted to the story as chorus or solos with a band overhead .
But for a moment I quailed at their triumphant claim “we will be heroes for ever” and the elders’ lordly patronizing of a new- generation sceptic who just sees “a lot of rich white men” purporting to save Africa. But fair dos – the familiar whining about postwar boomers ruining the world for Gen Z means forgetting what this extraordinary bit of musical philanthropy did. For all the snags and frustrations, Bob Geldof’s simplehearted horror at the newsreports and his stroppy, sweary risk-taking recruitment of all the big rockers did save tens of thousands of lives, and force the developed West to look at hard global realities. And this show gives 10% of the take to the Band Aid charitable trust.
Craige Els as Geldof (who is a collaborator with O’Farrell) centres the story with powerful sincerity: when he is persuaded to visit a refugee camp and hold a dying infant, the shock holds the house still for a real moment. It becomes clear that his headlong simplicity of purpose, a “this will not do and I must fix it” conviction – parallel to Thatcher’s own though in a different direction – was key to his success. He is not daunted by the slow assent of the other bands, the appalled logistic protests of Harvey Goldstein the promoter, nor by the angry “how dare they sing about us” expressed by Abiona Omiona’s black aid- worker when the disco lot stage becomes a fiery desert sunset and we are forced to look away from the glamour and excitement of the gig. Geldof tramples on, while around him the ordinary fans are fired with his rockstar intransigence.
The first half mainly deals with the original moment when Geldof and Midge Ure made the Band Aid Christmas single, hauling together a supergroup including Status Quo,Bono, Genesis, Spandau Ballet et al. Barracking of the BBC got it traction (Michael Grade knew when to give in) and fans rose magnificently to selling it. It’s good that the show admits the lyrics’ absurdity about snow, and the cringe over “tonight thank God its them instead of you” which apparently Bono hated singing. But it is how Geldof felt, and a supremely honest line. The startling success, and a cameo of Charles and Di there, is nicely done; the subsequent frustration at corruption and undelivered grain is painful.
Then the second half is Live Aid, the tempo rising even more. Luke Shephard’s direction keeps it going. It isn’t a classic: the side-plot of Suzanne’s teenage romance is sweet but flat, the disco choreography gets quite dull, and two cartoonish panto-rap confrontations between Geldof and Thatcher over the VAT refund are frankly awful. But the genius is in the music, and the briliance of the show in how those classics serve the mood. Matthew Brind, as musical supervisor, earns every plaudit going.
Joel Montague asGoldsmith the fixer delivers a bruising Pinball Wizard, the lone aid worker’s “Blowing in the wind” asks the eternal question behind all misery, there is an astonishing shared rendering of Bohemian Rhapsody, a 2024 teenager picking up the timeless strop of “My Generation”. And finally – and dammit the eyes water – a Mc Cartney moment. The Beatle was, that day, singing live for the first time since Lennon died. As the cast old and young ask the hardest question, why misery still stalks the world, his words are the ending: “There will be an answer….Let it be.”
Oldvictheatre.com. To 30 March
Rating three.
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