Lost but not forgotten

The perceived wisdom is that the 1980s was a decade of greed, the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation, and somewhat insipid pop music. Some of that may have been true, but to dismiss the 1980s so readily would be wrong, which is the underlying premise of a tremendous 63-track compilation from Gary Crowley, the DJ of whom you can safely say knows what he's talking about when it comes to the era.

In 1980, and at the age of just 19, Crowley became the UK's youngest network radio DJ when he was hired by London's Capital Radio to inject some 'street' into its programming. Not long before, he'd been behind The Modern World, a fanzine that embraced the-then punk and New Wave scene, literally blagging interviews from a phone box with the likes of Joe Strummer and Paul Weller (famously calling the Modfather at home in Woking while still living with his parents).

Today, at 57 and infuriatingly youthful still, Crowley is no less enthusiastic about the era in which he made his bones, which is what makes the release of Gary Crowley's Lost 80s such a joy to indulge. It's not an inflated version of the usual compilations of the period, but a full-on labour of love that draws out delicious obscurities of the time by acts both familiar and less so, creating a mosaic of the 1980s that truly demonstrates that, after all, the decade wasn't all about Chris De Bergh, puffball skirts and poodle rock bands. "Let me just state for the record, you’ll find no Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, Duran Duran, Dire Straits or the like appearing on these discs," says Gary, though not that any of those would necessarily be bad, it's just that they're too obvious. Even the mighty Prince. There is clearly a higher purpose to what Crowley has compiled: "Spread over these four CDs, I’ve collected together the best (in my personal opinion) of the guitar bands, the dance acts and the synth groups that made up the soundtrack of that gloriously thrilling decade for me and my friends." That is reflected in the richness of the track selection: Wham! and Culture Club might find themselves into the package, but not songs you'd expect. Some expert curation has gone on here, even sleuthing to unearth obscure but equally vital contributions to the era. "The 80s (and especially the first part) was an amazing time for music,"says Gary. "It was a mad, fast, kaleidoscopic rollercoaster ride where the chancers taking your money not only walked the walk; they backed it up with innovative, amazing tunes that changed the way music was made forever. That’s certainly how I remember it."

And there lies his challenge to perceptions that the 70s and its denim-clad progressiveness gave way to overtly commercialism in the decade that followed. Listened to without the distraction of Top Of The Pops repeats or MTV clips, Crowley's Lost 80s presents the era from where bands were doing something fun, rich and different. The four CDs (a vinyl version is also available) are themed, with the first, 'Jangly Jangly' devoted to the guitar pop of The Pale Fountains, Haircut 100, Aztec Camera, The Bluebells, Prefab Sprout, the brilliant Strawberry Switchblade and Dream Academy, as well as acts you may not recall so readily like The Suede Crocodiles and April Showers. Disc 2 draws more eclectically on post-punk acts like Bow Wow Wow, The Redskins and Theatre Of Hate, as well as including a storming track from JoBoxers and Carmel's More More More proving that she did it best long before Duffy did much the same. There are also cuts from The Associates, Spandau Ballet, The Kane Gang, Altered Images and Depeche Mode, but none that you or I would have chosen. And all the better for it.

I guess the whole point of this compilation is to demonstrate that the 80s weren't one thing or another,  but that lost down the decade's nooks and crannies are gems from across the spectrum. Thus, Disc 3 leads off with Wham!'s A Ray Of Sunshine, Grandmaster Flash's The Adventures Of Grandmaster Flash On The Wheels Of Steel, and Tom Tom Club's lively Genius Of Love, adding in rarities from Blue Rondo A La Turk, Pigbag, Funkapolitan and The Staple Singers. The club DJ in Crowley comes out in the fourth and final disc, which represents one of the distinctive mediums of the 80s - the 12-inch remix. Here, you'll soak up extended versions of Bananarama's Aie A Mwana, the brilliant Out Come The Freaks from Was (Not Was) and Fun Boy Three's The Alibi. Some of the quotes from Nick Heyward, Bananarama's Sarah Dallin, Gary Kemp and Clare Grogan make the package's sleeve notes as fun to read as listening to the songs they refer to.

It's here that I must declare my vested interest in this box set. Gary Crowley's evening show on Capital Radio was essential listening for the teenage me as I slaved over O-level homework and A-level revision. And as I became more and more fixed on becoming a music journalist myself, at the age of 16 I arranged an interview with Crowley himself for a portfolio of sample articles I was putting together to hopefully persuade potential employers. After the interview, Gary recommended I talk to the NME, which resulted in me getting the first - and probably last - live review of a Phil Collins gig in the paper. That was enough to send me on my way. I bring this up, not out of slavish gratitude or sycophantic hero worship. Without embarrassing the man too much, Crowley is something of a national treasure. A wonderful 12-minute mini-documentary, The Life, Music & Hairstyles of Gary Crowley, about him recently made its debut on YouTube and is well worth a watch, not just for the haircuts but for the impressive parade of legends he's interviewed for TV and radio (and continues to do so with his delightful My London series on BBC London). It's what makes Gary Crowley's Lost 80s work so well: he was there, DJing at The Wag or Bogarts, or spinning the wheels of steel on Wham!'s tours. And even now, he's every bit the enthusiastic live wire for good music that he ever was. And damn good fun to know.

A Bowie biopic? Start cringing now

No sooner have I stopped reflecting on the beatific glow created by Francis Whately's wonderful David Bowie documentary, Finding Fame, on Saturday evening that I discover - belatedly, it seems - that there are ghouls abound planning a biopic about The Dame.

I have form on such things: rock star biopics, in particular, make me cringe. Even the supposedly good ones, like What’s Love Got To Do With It, La Bamba, The Doors or Control. The trouble with them, usually, is that they attempt to animate characters who are or were, by nature, animated already. Even Bowie himself once said "They never seem to get them right." So, did we really need a biopic about Queen, a band whose lead singer took flamboyance and excess to new extremes and which were pretty much widely known already? Frankly, I could have just watched a compilation of clips of Queen playing live, as that is what counted. However salacious an existence Freddy Mercury led, the biopic that got made turned it into something of a cartoon, albeit with a strong central performance by Rami Malik. We didn’t, however, need to see Mercury's life re-enacted when a documentary of the depth and quality of Whately's Bowie trilogy would have served the purpose far better.

Later this year we will get Rocketman, described as "an epic musical fantasy about the uncensored human story of Sir Elton John’s breakthrough years." Made by the same team responsible for the entertaining Eddie The Eagle, and starring Taron Egerton (who played Eddie Edwards) as Elton John, it too smacks of the superfluous. Any serious biographer or documentary maker could do a better job of recording John's life than any live cartoon about him. Which is what fills me with absolute dread about Stardust, the film announced last month that would focus on Bowie's first trip to America in 1971. It certainly won’t be about Bowie's music: Salon Pictures, who are making the film, said in a somewhat terse statement that: "The film was written as an ‘origins story’ about the beginning of David’s journey as he invented his Ziggy Stardust character, and focuses on the character study of the artist, as opposed to a hits driven ‘music’ biopic.” The statement added: "We would like to clarify that this film is not a biopic, it is a moment-in-time film at a turning point in David’s life, and is not reliant on Bowie’s music”. Salon also make the clarification that Stardust will use "...period music and songs that Bowie covered, but not his original tracks." In other words, 'we don’t have the rights to use Bowie's music'.

Duncan Jones, Bowie's film director son, poured ice cold water on the project last month, tweeting: "Pretty certain nobody has been granted music rights for ANY biopic... I would know." followed by "I'm not saying this movie is not happening. I honestly wouldn't know. I'm saying that as it stands, this movie won't have any of dads music in it, & I can't imagine that changing." "If you want to see a biopic without his music," he added in another tweet, "or the families [sic] blessing, that's up to the audience." Bowie's lifelong friend George Underwood (who, as a schoolboy, was the cause of the singer's permanently dilated pupil, leading to the myth that he had different coloured eyes) has also waded in, telling the NME that he was dreading the film: "They never seem to get those right. Although I did like the Freddie Mercury one [Bohemian Rhapsody], but they’re never accurate. All of the books about David are copies of things that just aren’t quite right then it gets worse and worse.” Francis Whately himself has called it correctly, telling the NME that biopics like Stardust will only emphasise the "wrong aspects" of Bowie's life and career. “What I’m glad to have been able to do is make three 90-minute films on David Bowie as a musician, the artist, not anything else. That’s what’s important."

Johnny Flynn, best known for TV's Vanity Fair and Les Miserables is slated to play Bowie in Stardust. As Malek demonstrated in Bohemian Rhapsody, of course, with the right voice coaching and prosthetics, Hollywood can turn you into anyone. But Bowie - just like Mercury - was distinctive throughout his career. It’s what made his career. He went from character to character, constantly reinventing himself, adopting new masks and costumes in the process. Ziggy Stardust was, after all, one of those characters, a vessel for Bowie to play out his imagination through, musically and theatrically, and one of the most powerful memes ever devised in popular art. Frankly, we don’t need an actor impersonating that, even if with the editorial intent of informing the audience. Safe to say I, for one, will be avoiding Stardust like the plague.

Sarri seems to be the hardest word - part 3

Time's up?

Let me get this out there from the start: there is no shame losing to this particular Manchester City team. I might even claim it’s a badge of honour. But going into yesterday’s game at the Etihad, I wasn’t expecting much, as a Chelsea fan. Not that I don’t have any faith in Chelsea, even given their recent run of away results, but Pep Guardiola is currently custodian of a team that will punish anyone with elan. That doesn’t make them infallible, as they found at home to Crystal Palace before Christmas, but their results against opposition, big and small, have shown a propensity for telephone number scorelines. Which should have put Chelsea on their guard before the abject capitulation at the Etihad.

Before 4 o'clock yesterday I wasn’t even that concerned that I’d be spending the first half listening to radio commentary of City-Chelsea while driving home on the M25. I just didn’t expect to be 4-0 down by the 24th minute. At that point I came close to petulantly switching the radio off, but even then Dion Dublin, BBC 5 Live’s co-commentator with John Murray, was still of the opinion that Chelsea might be able to dam the flow of City goals and restore some pride. I was less positive: scorelines like that rarely get turned around, if ever, and if they do, you wouldn’t get this Manchester City team folding up and switching off. As they showed against Burton Albion, they are decidedly ruthless when on a killing spree. And thus they proved. 6-0.

So, hats off City, I knew you’d beat us. I just didn’t know how painfully you’d do it. Which brings me to Chelsea and Maurizio Sarri’s future. There’s an interesting comparison to make here between the two managers on the touchline yesterday at the Etihad: Guardiola has been given the time, space and resources to create this squad. Chelsea won the Premier League title in Pep’s first season at City, implausibly accelerating away from the chasing pack by Antonio Conte’s tactical switch to a wingback system that caught everyone off their guard. Meanwhile, Guardiola was rebuilding. Down the M64 at Liverpool, Jurgen Klopp was in the midst of doing much the same. Between them, they’ve had two and four years, respectively, to get their teams to where they are now. Will Sarri be afforded the same latitude?

It’s unlikely. Chelsea’s philosophy in the Abramovich era has been consistently short-termist, even if it looked like a slight change of strategy had been adopted with Sarri. If Chelsea would only come out and say that’s how they do it, we’d all accept it. Only the most naive manager would join the club in the expectation of seeing out their career there which, I suppose, is fine. The chances of another Alex Ferguson or Arsene Wenger putting in double-digit tenures at a Premier League club (or, indeed, anywhere else) are now unlikely, anyway. Again, fine, but in the case of Chelsea, there has been a distinct lag between head coach turnover and squad evolution. The elephant still in the room after yesterday’s horror show in Manchester is that the squad Sarri is playing with, or at least trying to convert to his philosophy, is still rooted in the Mourinho Mark II and Conte group of players. Change seems to be a problem for them. So yesterday’s game, plus the recent pounding from Bournemouth, should be attributed to a combination of Sarri’s unbending view that his possession-based system is the one and only, and that the players can switch off just when they need to dig in and fight. Much is said about Sarri’s lack of a Plan B, and when, yet again, you see like-for-like substitutions being made (though at least Kovačić on for Berkeley came in the 54th minute, rather than the usual 72nd…), and nothing changing in the fundamentals, you wonder if the Italian’s rigid adherence to Plan A will ever shift. Some might even admire his obstinacy, but he’s now starting to look like King Canute.

Sarri’s appointment last July was always going to be a gift to headline writers, which is why this is the third time I've blogged about Chelsea and used the generous pun you see at the top of this page (and thanks, too, to Elton John). Yep, I know it’s lazy, but the Italian is a gift that keeps on giving. His protracted appointment - delayed by Napoli, somewhat childishly, stalling his release while they onboarded former Chelsea boss Carlo Ancelotti as his replacement - was made just three weeks before the Blues’ first competitive game of the season, the Community Shield, which they lost 2-0 to Manchester City. At the time (and since) Sarri was cut some slack, the line being that it takes time to build a team, to get them to adopt a philosophy. Sarri was appointed largely because of the attractive football he’d instilled in Napoli, which enabled them to keep pace with runaway Serie A leaders Juventus. Six months on, it’s patently clear that what worked at Napoli is not working at Chelsea, what may have fitted the pace of Serie A is not fitting the Premier League.

What is most troubling is that Sarri is starting to exhibit the same truculence that Conte adopted, and that didn’t fair well for the previous Italian in charge at Chelsea. Though not as obvious as Conte became, Sarri’s current demeanour is not the kind that Mr. Abramovich and his acolytes appreciate. But before the inevitable P45 is dispatched Sarri’s way, I seriously hope that Abramovich, his de facto chief executive, Marina Granovskaia, chairman Bruce Buck and the other members of the club’s football board, David Barnard, Guy Laurence and Eugene Tenenbaum, take a good long look at the state of the team. Until yesterday, Chelsea had maintained a top four position in the league, which is probably all that could be expected at this stage of a new head coach's tune with this particular squad. And even when the wheels first fell off, against Spurs in November, they were lashed back on to record wins, including a 2-0 defeat of Manchester City at Stamford Bridge However, the bolts securing those wheels keep shearing. Yes, Chelsea remain in four competitions, but the topography of results that got them to this point is decidedly uneven, perilous even.

Next up will be Malm ö away in the Europa League on Thursday night, then a resurgent Manchester United next Monday in the FA Cup 5th Round, followed by Malmö at home in a second leg, with the run of immediate challenges ending with Manchester City, no less, in the League Cup final at Wembley. Big decisions, then, for the football board at Stamford Bridge. Fire Sarri now (and I wouldn’t expect club legend Gianfranco Zola to remain on the management team, either) and the club enters dangerously familiar territory: the final third of a season with honours on offer, but a caretaker in charge. Yes, that worked a couple of times with Guus Hiddink, Robbie Di Matteo even won the Champions League, and the toxic appointment of Rafa Benitez still netted Chelsea the Europa League trophy. But there’s only so many times Hiddink can be parachuted in, and you don’t see Zidane donning a hazmat suit to join Chelsea for the remaining four months of the season, unless there’s a desire by both him and the club to make it permanent. Plus, it’s just not going to happen, anyway.

However, all this is grist to the mill. Something has to change fundamentally at Chelsea. First up, is the relationship between head coach and the club’s football board. After technical director Michael Emenalo left for Monaco in November 2017, the link between the board and the club’s playing elements disappeared. Marina Granovskaia assumed all control over player acquisitions and divestments. The coach appears to become nothing more than a consultant in the recruitment process (although Sarri managed to persuade the club to bring in his trusted lieutenant Jorginho from Napoli, as well as - finally - Gonzalo Higuain on loan, another player with positive Sarri experience). But that has been all. Questions must also be asked about the state of a squad with access to so much academy talent, and yet no intention of using it. I’ll come back to Callum Hudson-Odoi in a moment.

The lack of true leadership on the pitch is the other major area of concern. Yesterday’s match in Manchester highlighted the absence of blood-and-guts at Chelsea. That was never the case when it had, at its core, leaders like John Terry, Frank Lampard, Didier Drogba and Petr Čech, a spine that would take the game by the scruff of its neck when it was needed. As much as I like César Azpilicueta, he’s no Terry, and having been one of Chelsea’s best performers over the last couple of seasons, has not looked as effective this term. That may be down to his captaincy (favoured over the unfavoured Gary Cahill), something that has a habit of diluting ability (once dubbed 'The Botham Effect" after the mullet-haired cricketer's powers wained after he was made England captain in the disastrous 1980 test series with the West Indies).

However, when there are players who need no motivation at all, Sarri doesn't use them. Principally I'm talking about Hudson-Odoi: the precocious 18-year-old may well still need to know his place, but his pace and strength are the very attributes Chelsea have lacked in recent performances. Sarri clearly isn’t sure about the teenager, and with Chelsea managing to ward off Bayern Munich in the transfer window, the club needs to reach agreement on what they do with him. It was almost painful to see the teenager yesterday, not even on the bench but in the seats behind the dugout reserved for squad members who travel but are not on the team sheet. Sarri’s treatment of Hudson-Odoi has been nothing short of scandalous. A player who wants to play, who can play, who can give the fans something to cheer about. And what did Sarri do, once Bayern Munich’s overtures had been conclusively (for now) rebuffed in January? Drop the player for the Bournemouth match on the grounds that he’d only played three days previously. Hudson-Odoi might as well start learning German now, because he’ll be out the transfer window as soon as it opens in the summer.

José Mourinho spent the last four months of his time at Chelsea playing Russian Roulette, almost literally. Then, he was sacked when Chelsea had plummeted from previous season’s league champions to 17th, just above the relegation zone. He was sacked in mid-December when it was still possible he could have turned things around. The Chelsea board didn’t see that as possible, and fielded then-technical director Michael Emenalo to tell the press about the “palpable discord” between manager and players. Today, Chelsea are only in sixth, on points. At any other club, that - and the fact they’re still battling on four fronts - would not set off any alarm bells. Chelsea, however, are not any other club. Sarri, or anyone else, should not think for one minute that Abramovich’s visa or business issues should be a distraction. The next few days - or even the next few hours - could prove to be another disrupting chapter in the recent history of Chelsea Football Club. Sarri would be the expected casualty, but if he does go, serious questions need to be asked about how Chelsea’s boom-and-bust cycle needs to come to an end.

Watch that man

When he died, enigmatically two days after his 69th birthday and the release of his prophetic final album Blackstar, the world re-examined David Bowie, as is the way when legends pass away. The process was both cathartic and informing, and it perhaps woke a consciousness that Bowie was more than just another dead rock star. Because he had been more than just a rock star to begin with.

The somewhat inevitable, but none the less enjoyable reissuing of his albums in a series of chronological box sets, starting with Five Years (1969–1973) in 2015 and most recently Loving The Alien (1983–1988), has enabled the ardent Bowie fan to reassess in depth the chapters of reinvention that made Bowie, over the course of the better part of 50 years as a recording artist, one of the most fascinating acts of the pop and rock age. I probably don’t need to declare my interest here: this and my previous blog plundered their titles from The Dame. But the stream of biography that has continued to flow since his death in 2016, along with the myriad re-releases, has been nothing but a celebration, though most has focused on the Bowie everyone knows, the Bowie from Hunky Dory, through Ziggy and the Thin White Duke personas, to the Berlin trilogy, the '80s pop, the '90s experimentations with “urban” music, to his settling in late middle age with some of his most pleasing work and, from what we can gather, the most personable David Bowie, comfortable in his skin, comfortable with his legacy of hits, funny, self-depreciating and quintessentially South London, a bloke you’d love to hang out with.

This latter Bowie was closer to David Robert Jones from Brixton than at any time since 1969 when his strumming 12-string guitar heralded the intro to Space Oddity, and the real David Bowie (even if he'd gone by that moniker since 1966) - the progressive Bowie - emerged. The period before that point tends to get less attention, but tonight at 9pm on BBC2, a film-length documentary addresses the period of the Jones-Bowie metamorphosis, and the path of theatrical character finding that followed. David Bowie: Finding Fame is the third and final film in Frances Whately's trilogy of superbly researched and edited retrospectives, following 2013's David Bowie: Five Years and 2017's David Bowie: The Last Five Years. Finding Fame focuses on his career at the outset of the name, David Bowie.

As David Jones, Bowie formed his first band, the Konrads, as a teenager, pretty much echoing how The Beatles and the Stones had built their reputations, playing live rock and roll at youth clubs and weddings. Shortly after leaving technical college, the young Jones joined the King Bees, building a repertoire of R'nB covers of Howlin Wolf and Willie Dixon numbers. After a stint in another blues outfit, the Mannish Boys, Jones joined a succession of beat bands, like The Lower Third, the Buzz and Riot Squad. By this time David Jones - or 'Davy' Jones, as he'd become - was growing somewhat dilettante, flirting with quitting pop music altogether and studying dance at Sadler's Wells, as well as falling under the twin influences of dance and mime artist Lindsay Kemp and the theatrical music of Anthony Newley.

Here is where Finding Fame comes in. Renaming himself David Bowie (conscious of not being confused with The Monkees' Davy Jones, drawing on American pioneer James Bowie for a name that would remain for the rest of his life), 1966 saw Bowie embark on a career that would, until Space Oddity three years later, struggle to find a form, even if the novelty single The Laughing Gnome would provide a minor hit (and a bi-product of Bowie’s affinity with Newley’s material). What emerges, however, is that Bowie was - and remained - restlessly in search of his style, and as his albums right up until, and including Blackstar, will attest, that relentless exploration was what produced such an amazing canon of work. Almost all of it was inspired by or, in some cases, pilfered from, the diverse musical and artistic influences Bowie devoured. Paul McCartney may have strayed little from the charming melodicism he brought to The Beatles, but even by the time he reached Blackstar, his 25th album, Bowie was still experimenting, that time with experimental jazz, on Let’s Dance with funk (working with Nile Rogers) or Young Americans with Philly soul. At essence, Bowie was a magpie street mod, collecting shiny trinkets as he went and feathering his nest with them, and forever changing his hair, his look, his style.

What informed and influenced this perpetual reinvention is explored by Whately in the documentary, calling on witnesses who were there at the creation of David Bowie, such as his first cousin and lifelong confidante Kristina Amadeus, and his highly influential ex-girlfriend Hermione Farthingale (yep, American friends, that’s a real name). There are also contributions from the late Lindsay Kemp, in his last on-camera interview, as well as longstanding friends like Geoff MacCormak and George Underwood, and the producers Mike Vernon, Tony Hatch and the producer who’d be most associated with him, Tony Visconti. Drummer Woody Woodmansey, the last surviving member of the Spiders From Mars also makes an appearance. Into the mix Whately adds previously unheard recordings and unpublished documents, such as the BBC’s report from a November 1965 audition by The Lower Third, in which they attempt Chim-Chim-Cheree from Mary Poppins. “Routine beat group,” sniffs one verdict, “strange choice of material. Amateur-sounding vocalist who sing wrong notes and out of tune. Group has nothing to recommend it.” That singer - then going by the name Davie Bowie, gets a bluff dismissal from another: “The singer is a cockney type but not outstanding enough.” However, another wrote: “The lead singer could interpret a beat number and a number like Chim-Chim-Cheree with equal facility.” Yep, that’ll be Bowie.

Equally anticipated in Whately's film is previously lost footage of an early '70s TV appearance. Though seemingly a bolt-on to the pre-fame (or pre-Fame?) context of the documentary, Whately has unearthed what could be considered the birth of Ziggy Stardust, a June 1972 spot on a long-forgotten ITV children's show, Lift Off With Ayshea. Most of the show's 144-edition run are believed to have been wiped, but with audio of Ziggy and the Spiders performing Starman emerging, a fragile tape was tracked down, which will hopefully make it into the final edit of Finding Fame (if it has been restored in time). Though Finding Fame concerns itself mostly with Bowie's emergence in the mid-60s, the Starman clip will be fascinating to see where that tousle-haired Brixton boy ended up, and in a TV performance that pre-dates the famous - or infamous - performance Top Of The Pops performance of the song, with Bowie outraging the nation with his arm draped around Mick Ronson's shoulder

There here will be more unearthed material to come in April when Parlophone releases Spying Through A Keyhole, a box set of seven-inch vinyl singles marking the 50th anniversary of Space Oddity, and containing nine previously unreleased recordings including early recordings of Bowie’s first meeting with Major Tom.

Drawing its title from a lyric in another early song, Love All Around, Spying Through A Keyhole includes recordings and acoustic home demos of songs like Mother Grey, In The Heat Of The Morning (an early Bowie song that some may already be familiar with), Goodbye Threepenny Joe, Love All Around, London Bye, Ta-Ta and two work-in-progress versions of Angel, Angel, Grubby Face. There are also a couple of versions of Space Oddity, including one which may be the first ever demo of the song that put Bowie firmly on the map.

As with the release of any archival material from any artist, this collection may well be one for the fans, but as a companion to the final Whately documentary, it will help sequence the DNA of the David Bowie that was to come, the Bowie that even know, three years after his death, continues to fascinate like few - if any - of his contemporaries in the rock era.

Queen of the skies heads slowly towards abdication

Earlier this week I let off some steam on this site about the decaying state of British Airways' customer experience. One of the points I raised was the airline's continued reliance on the Boeing 747, which celebrates its 50th birthday tomorrow.

As I wrote on Monday, the plane holds a fascination with me, even if it is now somewhat irrelevant as a passenger aircraft. Nothing looks quite like the Queen of the Skies and, I suspect, nothing will again, especially with talk of the only other 'Jumbo Jet', the Airbus A380, already running out of commercial runway. When it first flew in 1969, the 747 was a technological marvel, in terms of speed, passenger capacity and comfort. Its predecessor, the 707 might have accelerated the jet age, but the 747 democratised air travel, enabling distances to be covered further, more quickly and by more people. Today the mode is for efficient twin-engines, not four, and for carbon-fibre constructions to improve efficiency further. That the 747 has outlasted newer models, like Boeing's 757 and 767 is a testimony to the fact that only the jumbo can do what the jumbo does. And that, strangely, is keeping it flying well beyond its half century.

As a passenger aircraft, the 747 is heading towards retirement. Just 200 remain in passenger use, including with British Airways, the single biggest operator with 34 in the air. But the iconic shape is set to continue flying for the foreseeable future with an unexpected uptick in its use as a freighter. Not so long ago there were fears that the 747 would come to an end altogether, following a lacklustre order book for its latest -8 model, which was only adopted for passenger use by a handful of operators including Lufthansa. But with logistics companies like UPS finding a renewed use for the 747 as a cargo carrier, shipping ever-more goods around the world as the online shopping boom continues (air cargo rose by 3.5% last year, according to the International Air Transport Association), the 747 is still proving that it can do a unique job in the aviation industry. Last year UPS ordered a further 14 of the freighter variant of the 747-8, to add to the nine it already has, a shot in the arm for a plane Boeing had said only two years previously could be brought to an end amid falling orders and pricing competition from smaller rivals from Airbus.

The end will, probably, have to come eventually. British Airways' drawdown of its 747-400s, introduced at the end of the 1990s, will be completed by November 2022. Dutch carrier KLM will phase out its remaining 747s by 2021, leaving Lufthansa, Korean Air and Air China as the last of the national flag carriers with the type in use.

Like many, my first long-haul experience was on a 747, and it still defines the romance of air travel, even if better and more comfortable planes are in more comumon use. 50 years on from that maiden flight on 9 February 1969, the giant aircraft remains a majestic sight and a majestic experience, especially if you get the chance to climb that spiral staircase up into its 'hump' (which was, once, the height of airline luxury as the upper deck was used as a flying lounge for first class passengers. Latterly, airlines - striving to maximise space - have used it for premium economy seats).

Today, there are still over 500 747s in use for passenger and cargo duties, and one of the most famous, those used by the US president as 'Air Force One', will be flying for years to come after President Trump agreed to ordering two new ones (after spitting out his dummy over Boeing's original price of $4 billion per plane, a total deal of $3.9 billion was agreed, with the new planes being delivered by December 2024). Commercial aviation will have long moved on by then, but the fact that two new 747s will be flying, 55 years after the first took to the air, will be a remarkable endorsement of a remarkable machine.

Hazard ahead: exiting the garden of Eden

Picture: Twitter/Chelsea FC

There is, at times, too much to like about Eden Hazard. For a footballer, and a preposterously talented one at that, he is bright and articulate. And also supremely knowing. Things that might come across as gaffes by other footballers are delivered with poise and purpose by the 28-year-old Belgian, as well as with a twinkling glint in the eye. Which is why, when you first examine the situation, we are to believe that he hasn’t made up his mind whether he wants to stay at Chelsea, or move to Real Madrid. Personally, I think that he’s already on his way to the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, and it’s just a (small) matter of the Spanish giants making the right offer (which, of note, they haven’t so far). Moreover, Hazard has now said that does, now, know what decision he will make, but coyly won’t reveal what it is until “the right moment”.

Friends have allegedly been told that he will join Madrid, although there is the small matter of Real matching a suggested price tag of at least £100 million that Chelsea would expect from any deal. That, to be honest, sounds like a good bit of business, given that Hazard’s current deal with Chelsea continues until the summer of 2020. However, we’d be wise not to get too carried away…yet. The rumours and speculation about Hazard have been with us for some time now, but they were cranked up a notch or three the other day by the sudden surfacing of a brief clip from an interview Hazard gave French radio station RMC two months ago. Now, the full interview has become available, and inevitably it presents a somewhat less dramatic view. “For now,” Hazard tells the station, “the only thing to think about is playing well for Chelsea. I have a year-and-a-half left on my contract, everyone knows. My decision will be known soon, but it’s not something that affects my mind. I think about it, but without thinking about it. When I’m in the field, I just want to play. We’ll see what happens after.” Hazard does admit that a decision has been made “more or less”, but not when he’ll reveal it. “I do not know, we’ll see. I will wait for the right moment,” he maintains. This is both Hazard being the diplomat, and Hazard being slightly disingenuous.

As a fan, I’d be sad to see him go - he is a rare talent, one of a kind we haven’t seen at the club, probably since Gianfranco Zola’s time as a Chelsea player, and even then it would be hard to fully compare the two.  Having someone of Hazard’s genuinely unique talent, who can justifiably be compared as a game-changer with the likes of Messi or Ronaldo, is a valuable commodity that any other team would love to have in their ranks. But if you’re going to cash in on a player that has probably had his head turned by the idea of playing for Real Madrid, now’s the time to do it.

No one can say we haven’t had value out of a player Chelsea signed as a 21-year-old from Lille in 2012 for £32 million. Given that Chelsea have had players on its books even older than that who’ve never played a minute for the first team, that fee seems like a bargain now, given the 104 goals he’s scored for the Blues since joining in June 2012. He’s been mostly on scintillating form this season and is currently the Premier League's fourth top scorer with 12 goals, as well as having made the league's most assists with 10. The arrival of Gonzalo Higuain to replace the anemic Álvaro Morata and give a more muscular striking alternative to Oliver Giroud should give Hazard a new lease of life, enabling him to drop out to his favoured left wing, rather than toil in the 'false nine' role Maurizio Sarri frustratingly plodded on with. It will keep him engaged as Chelsea chase a probably fourth place finish and Champions League football next term. It won’t, however, be enough to keep him in West London. Even if Chelsea are able to dangle a new contract, thought to be well in excess of £300,000 a week, to keep him, I’d be amazed if he stayed. And good luck to him.

Sarri's recent clumsy attempt at, what I'm in no doubt was, reverse psychology, berating the Belgium for being "...more an individual player than a leader", seemed to cascade off Hazard like water off a duck's back. The player has said that he frustrates managers almost as a matter of course, something Sarri has already acknowledged: "You know very well that Eden is a wonderful player but he’s an individual player. He’s an instinctive player. For him, it’s very difficult to play only in one position. He likes very much to go in the direction of the ball, wanting the ball at his feet.” That, Sarri should recognise, is precisely why Chelsea will miss him when he’s gone. The Italian's dogmatic obsession with choreographed possession is at odds with Hazard's mercurial free spirit. Don’t forget, this is a player who once arbitrarily switched flanks midway through a match simply because he'd had enough of Antonio Conte barking in his ear on the touchline. A maverick tendency like that will never sit well with Sarri's studious and rigid philosophy, which might explain why the Chelsea coach was somewhat sanguine the other day about the prospect of a Hazard leaving (“Eden is 28. If he wants to go, I think he has to go. Of course, I hope the opposite. He has the potential to be the best player in Europe.”).

Picture: Twitter/Eden Hazard

If he does leave (and that does still depend on Real Madrid actually wanting him - a point that's not entirely clear, since PSG's Neymar and Kylian Mbappe are said to be their preferred target) - Chelsea have options. One must surely be keeping Callum Hudson-Odoi, the 18-year-old with the potential to be as unique and effective as Hazard. And there will be the summer arrival of Christian Pulisic, joining from Borussia Dortmund for £57.4 million (an arrival, though, that could see Hudson-Odoi moving in the opposite direction to Bayern Munich). Another possibility might be going after Barcelona's reportedly unsettled Philippe Coutinho. Neymar and Mbappe not withstanding, Hazard must be of interest to the Bernabeu power brokers, who are yet to have backfilled the starring role Cristiano Ronaldo enjoyed for nine seasons. That said, slapping a price tag of more than £100 million might put them off Hazard, even with the prospect of loanee Mateo Kovačić being used as a makeweight. If that stalls a move, Hazard will simply run down his contract, and who knows which Eden Hazard Chelsea will have to deal with in his final season. Unlike the ugly manner with which Thibaut Courtois angled his way out of Stamford Bridge, one would hope that the classy manner with which Hazard has mostly carried himself would see him remain hungry to contribute in what would be a final full season. Even if Hazard himself now knows what he’d like to do, there are still too many variables beyond his control, not least of which Chelsea, who would presumably still want to keep him, and Real Madrid, who have yet to publicly show their hand.

Falling out of love with the world's favourite airline

YouTube/British Airways

Last Friday, at the end of a week in which British Airways cancelled, without warning or explanation, my flight back to London from Silicon Valley, the airline breezily launched "a love letter to Britain", a glossy TV commercial featuring, amongst other famous British faces, Gary Oldman, Olivia Colman, Anthony Joshua, Ellie Simmonds, Nicola Adams, Paloma Faith and a posthumous cameo from David Bowie, all presenting a cosy, patriotic picture of an airline that is, now, owned by an Anglo-Spanish company based in Madrid.

It’s all part of BA's centenary which, according to an e-mail that landed the same day, marked “a hugely exciting time for us". The e-mail went on to trill that BA "wouldn't be celebrating without you. You have made us who we are today, and we're immensely proud of how far we've flown together”, followed by the revelation that "since you first travelled with us in 2003 you have flown 201,191 miles, which is the same as flying 8.1 times around the world." This, however, is not strictly true: I’ve been flying with BA a lot longer than that, it’s just that I only signed up to its Executive Club loyalty scheme in 2003. Here in lies part of what makes the modern-day British Airways - a lot of marketing masking an absence of the substance that built the so-called British “flag carrier” and its reputation in the first place. It’s been a long time since BA could call itself "the world's favourite airline". Because, frankly, there are many others that are simply better.

I say this partly out of love and loyalty. I took my first BA flight in 1989, and it was quite a way to start - First Class to and from Moscow as part of a Sky TV documentary team. I began flying regularly with BA in the mid-90s when my PR job with Philips frequently took me to Amsterdam, Berlin and elsewhere in Europe. And then, when I moved to Amsterdam itself in 1999, BA became, for the following 17 years living abroad, something of a bus service. So you could say that over the last 30 years I’ve invested considerable loyalty in the brand, even if it doesn’t show anywhere near enough reciprocal love these days as once it might.

BA has become a 'cost down' carrier, managed by accounting fanatics desperate to shave every last percentage point of profit from its revenues, regardless of the reputational damage it does. As a relatively minor case in point, BA's short-haul flights have stopped offering free snacks in economy class and have moved to the easyJet/Ryanair model of selling sandwiches and drinks at vastly inflated prices. Even if they are from Marks & Spencer (a gimmick in Britishness, even if M&S probably source their sarnies from the same supplier as easyJet), a Honey Roast & Farmhouse Cheddar Cheese Sandwich costs £3.90 in the air, whereas you'd pay £2.50 on the ground. Add £2.45 for a cup of tea and you’ve spent more than six quid on something other airlines give away for free. I’m sure most people could do without a snack for an hour or so, but what price a hot drink? Oh, and things get more interesting if you choose to conveniently use your Avios loyalty points instead of the cash you can’t easily get to in your cramped seat: on a two-hour evening flight back from Madrid the other week I bought that sandwich/tea combo, and dispensed with 900 Avios points for the privilege. To put this into perspective, I earned just 1000 Avios flying to and from Zurich with BA a few days later.

While we're on the topic of BA's stingy rewards, there is the Executive Club scheme itself. Progress through the different membership tiers is what drives the repeat business. As you go higher, you gain benefits like lounge access, free seat selection (avoiding the exorbitant charges to reserve a seat you were going to get, anyway) and priority rebooking in the event of flights being cancelled or overbooked. Here, BA has grown ever more light-fingered. That flight from Madrid was the third leg a trip from London to Milan, Milan to Madrid and then back to London. For my trouble I earned just five tier points from the flights from and to London, and ten from the middle flight, despite all three being of identical length and me sitting in economy throughout. The only difference was that the Milan-Madrid journey was with Iberia, BA's sister airline within the IAG group, and should therefore offer no difference to the BA rewards scheme. Another gripe is that occasionally I will take up the offer of a cabin upgrade for cash. Firstly, this doesn’t render any 'cabin bonus' tier points, which seems a little cheap. But there's worse: shortly before my trip to San Jose the other day I saw on the BA iPhone app that the magic 'Upgrade' button was highlighted, informing me that upgrades were possible. I discovered that I could upgrade both outbound and return flights to World Traveller Plus (premium economy) for the princely sum of just under £2,000 - £2,000! I could have booked two complete tickets in that class for that price when I’d made the original booking. So I declined, until the nice man at the check-in desk said that I could move up a cabin for just £270. Bit of a difference, that...

If BA's contemptuous attitude to economy passengers, manifested by a loyalty scheme that barely justifies the word loyalty, isn’t enough, then its planes - the very basis of its existence - are creaking. Not literally, thankfully, but the overwhelming feeling flying BA these days is that it’s not able to keep up with the modern fleets of many of its rivals, especially the Asian and Middle Eastern carriers. Remember my arbitrarily cancelled flight from San Jose? Well, it would have been made on a relatively new Boeing 787 Dreamliner, one of the new class of fuel-efficient, carbon fibre-constructed jets that feature all sorts of innovations to improve passenger comfort and wellbeing.

Picture: Nick Morrish/British Airways

My first experience of a BA Dreamliner wasn’t good - a flight to New Jersey in one of the most cramped economy class cabins I’ve ever experienced. Fair to say, my outbound journey to San Jose the other Sunday was more comfortable and in the larger and newer 787-9 Dreamliner model. Unfortunately, my journey back, rescheduled as a flight from San Francisco, an hour's drive away from San Jose on a Friday afternoon, was on an ageing Boeing 777, on which the crew couldn't switch off the cabin lights, less than ideal on a ten-hour overnight journey (ironically, the lights finally went off when the plane landed, as if all the system needed was a damn good whack). Its one nod to modernity was on-board WiFi, something in which BA has lagged behind many other major carriers for years (I first used it on an American Airlines flight ten years ago...). BA has promised to introduce wireless connectivity on 118 of its long-haul aircraft by this year, but based on my experience (i.e. just two of the ten long-haul flights I’ve made with the airline over the last 12 months), that rollout is taking a while. Getting WiFi into its planes should even be an opportunity for BA, given the premium it can charge for high-bandwidth streaming. The BYOD model could even replace traditional inflight entertainment, as passengers use their iPads and phones, often with better screens than seatback systems, to stream content from Netflix or catch-up players, or watch pre-downloaded programming.

A large part of BA's long-haul fleet is shockingly old, and staying that way. On another trip to Silicon Valley before Christmas I flew on a 20-year-old Boeing 747. Now, there's no doubting the romance of the “Queen of the skies", as aviation buffs call it. There is still a sense of grandeur to clambering aboard the original Jumbo Jet, with that massive, haughty-looking prow, its cockpit windows looking like the eyes of a slightly snooty headmistress, and its massive interior which, before ruthless airline economics took hold, used to feel luxuriously spacious. When it first flew in 1969, the 747 was a technological marvel: a giant ocean liner of the air that could seat well over 400 passengers comfortably in an age when 'jet set' not only evoked who was on board but also a degree of comfort to which even the most lowly economy passenger could enjoy. On top of that it was quick, too, averaging around 500 miles per hour in cruise. Today, though, it’s an anachronism - a four-engined gas-guzzler in an age of twin jet efficiency. BA still stands by the old lady, and although it has slowly started to drawdown its fleet of 747s, it will be at least another five years by the time they've all disappeared, some after more than 25 years' service.

Progressively BA has been refreshing its long-haul fleet, introducing 12 Airbus A380s and 30-odd Dreamliners over the last decade, with a promise of the first of an order of Airbus A350s to come by July this year. This fleet evolution is, however, tectonically slow. Even if the Dreamliner I flew to San Jose on was just three years old, it too lacked WiFi. To me that’s like buying a new car in 2019 without electric windows. Waiting to depart at Heathrow's Terminal 5 is an opportunity to see just how old BA's long-haul fleet is. If you’re lucky you might see one of its A380s (IAG chief executive Willie Walsh has recently said they’d consider buying more of these wonderful, comfortable super jumbos, but Airbus needs to slash its prices first). Emirates, the much admired Middle East carrier has built its fleet strategy around the A380, with more than 100 on its roster with some 142 planned to be in service when deliveries end. Other airlines, like Lufthansa and Qantas, have hedged on their A380 needs like BA. From a passenger point of view it’s a popular type - especially for its comfort, despite the huge size, but its cost always needs balancing, which is why some airlines have been negotiating with Airbus for the smaller A350. Either way, at least they’ve got relatively new fleets overall.

Picture:  British Airways

As BA retires its 747s it will still be left with more than 50 Boeing 777s, by then averaging a lifespan of 22 years. Today, many of these long-haul workhorses show their relative old age, with loose fittings (on my flight back from Dubai in October), or entertainment systems that don’t work and if they do are wedded to screens the size of first-generation TomTom satnavs. Amenities like in-flight entertainment are what relegates BA and the American carriers. The Asian and Middle Eastern airlines are, once again, streets ahead. Even Virgin Atlantic has long been ahead of its great rival BA in this department, offering seatback TVs when BA was still using communal bulkhead screens in its 747 cabins. Virgin’s Upper Class and Premium Economy seats are still on par with the Asian and Gulf airlines, and even in a standard economy seat on Virgin you don’t feel as commoditised as you do with BA.

This begs the question of why I stick with BA. To be honest, I don’t know. Lounge access can be bought or built up through loyalty to other, better airlines. But it’s somewhat shabby that BA should have benefited from my slavish loyalty (and for much longer than the 16 years I’ve been an Executive Club member) and yet the list of woes gets longer with every flight. I’m not alone, either, in feeling this way. In a recent survey for the consumer association Which?, BA came third from bottom, a long way behind carriers such as Singapore, Emirates and even Virgin. BA will point to the improvements it is making to cabin quality as a sign that it is taking the customer experience seriously. But frequent BA passengers beg to differ. Yes, the First and Club World cabins are plush, but step back into World Traveller Plus (premium economy) and World Traveller on long-haul flights, and the experience diminishes somewhat, especially on aircraft where ten economy class seats are now crammed across a row, with those rows appearing significantly tighter for legroom.

Picture: British Airways

Here lies the most vexing aspect of British Airways. An airline seemingly stuck in a vortex of its own making. It still wants to be see as a premium 'flag carrier', and yet its business ethos is stuck somewhere between premium and budget. But BA - which is as margin-minded as any business of course - at least once operated with pricing that you felt was being matched by service quality. At best you'd say it was average today. Yes, its planes get you from A to B with a reasonable degree of punctuality (unless weather events force the airline to just shut down...). and unlike Ryanair or the American carriers, there is still a feeling that you are being somewhat looked after while on board. But there is an overall feeling of decay, of doing more for profit and shareholder dividends than for the paying customer (unless you're paying first or business class prices). Ageing planes and increasingly flimsy rewards for long-term loyalty don't help, either. More importantly, there are simply better airlines out there offering better value for money. No amount of slick marketing, or the claim of making its 100th year "very special" via an "ongoing £6.5bn investment programme to deliver new aircraft, cabins, service and destinations" make a dent in BA's diminishing reputation unless it makes these deliveries sooner, rather than later. The clock is ticking.