At 16 I was just about to leave school. I’d done pretty well, I’d got six O levels. And all the teachers were pushing me to stay at school. But by the time I was 16 I’d already formed a semi-professional amateur band at school, and I’d been gigging constantly on weekends around working men’s clubs, youth clubs, weddings, anywhere we could get a gig really. So my heart was set on becoming a professional musician. Now back in 1961, ’62, if you chose that as a profession, you were a black sheep, wasting your time, throwing it all away. Especially in the working-class area where I come from. Being a professional musician was not looked on as a bona fide job. People thought you were a bit of a beatnik.
He was a great singer but he never had any aspirations. When I was seven, I was sitting with my mum in the audience one Sunday night and he called me up to sing. He called out, “come on Neville [his real name]”, and I sang a song by a country and western artist called Frankie Laine in my little soprano voice. It was the first time I’d ever sang
