What links Pink Floyd, Einstein, boxing, Sue Barker and the Women’s Institute?
Answer: the Royal Albert Hall. The nation’s favourite ‘village hall’ has hosted the great, the good and the extremely unlikely. David Lister looks back over its 150-year history
It styles itself “the nation’s village hall”, although I doubt anyone in the nation thinks of it as such. Rather they think of it as the scene of so many quintessential British memories. Be it the Last Night of the Proms (and all the other nights) or, as happened in September 1963, the very rare sight of The Beatles and the Stones on the same bill, (it only ever happened twice), the annual residencies of Eric Clapton, or by way of major contrast the annual general meetings of the Women’s Institute.
And yes, of course, there are so many examples of artists from beyond these shores. Bob Dylan showing a stunned London his new electric style; John McEnroe providing the anticipated histrionics on cue in the yearly ATP tennis tournaments; film screenings with live orchestral accompaniment from the days of the silent movies to the present; charity banquets; and the dazzling acrobatics and ambient music of what might be termed arthouse circus in the evergreen troupe Cirque du Soleil.
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And, of course, a story retold in a recent film, it hosted the Miss World contest when feminists invaded the stage to the consternation of host Bob Hope. And then there’s the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance, Sumo wrestling, motor shows, ballet, opera and basketball, and boxing, though in one of the hall’s few shameful episodes, there was a colour bar between 1923 and 1932, which prevented black boxers from boxing there.
The Royal Albert Hall is nothing if not versatile. On 29 March the building erected as a tribute to Queen Victoria’s late husband, celebrates its 150th anniversary. When it opened, Victoria was literally lost for words, so overcome with emotion that her son the Prince of Wales made the opening speech for her.
Credit Victoria, though, with insisting that the hall’s name be changed from the intended and unmemorable Central Hall of Arts and Sciences to its snappier present title.
The building was originally designed by architects Captain Francis Fowke and Major-General Henry YD Scott of the Royal Engineers, (making present-day architect firms sound rather prosaic). It was and remains a remarkable addition to the capital’s architecture. Italianate in design, and influenced by ancient amphitheatres, it is particularly notable for its glass and wrought iron dome, and an 800-foot long mosaic frieze on the outside of the building depicting “the triumph of Arts and Sciences”, and inside the massive organ, known as the Voice of Jupiter, with 9,997 pipes and 147 stops.
It is striking, grand, and very comfortable to sit in as a spectator (why don’t more venues have seats that can move around in a semi-circle, and sufficient raking to give you perfect views). But it has not been without problems. From its opening in 1871 to the present day, musicians have been unhappy about the acoustics. It has been joked that it is “the only place where a British composer could be sure of hearing his work twice”.
Not everyone is bothered by the acoustics. Eric Clapton has played there more than 200 times and describes performing at the venue as “like playing in my front room”.
Besides, nearly all of the greatest musicians, classical and rock, have been keen to perform there, right from the earliest days (when the hall was initially lit by gas with a special system by which thousands of gas jets were lit within 10 seconds). In May 1877, Richard Wagner conducted the Grand Wagner Festival, and for the part he wasn’t conducting he gave himself the best seat in the House – a large armchair on the corner of the stage.
The hall’s rapidly established eclectic reputation for stretching beyond concerts, ensured other big names. In 1933 Albert Einstein led the Einstein Meeting for the Council for Assisting Refugee Academics. In 1936 there was a giant rally to celebrate the British Empire. And (largely forgotten now) the hall was once the home of the Central School of Speech and Drama for the first half of the 20th century. Graduates during that period included Laurence Olivier, Judi Dench, Vanessa Redgrave and Harold Pinter.
Alfred Hitchcock was so taken by the look and atmosphere of the hall that for his 1955 film The Man Who Knew Too Much he filmed the 15-minute climax there with James Stewart and Doris Day. He was not alone. Other films with sequences shot at the hall include Love Story, The Ipcress File, A Touch of Class and Spice World.
And, of course, the hall itself features in song lyrics, most notably The Beatles “A Day in the Life” in which John Lennon wrote and sang:
“I read the news today, oh boyFour Thousand holes in Blackburn, LancashireAnd though the holes were rather small, they had to count them allNow they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.”
And I’m indebted to the Royal Albert Hall’s official history for the memorably po-faced phrasing that “in some variants of ‘Hitler has only got one ball’, Hitler’s second testicle is mentioned as being in the hall.
It is for performances, of course, that the hall is etched into our memories. In 1969 Pink Floyd were banned for life after shooting cannons and having a man in a gorilla suit roam the audience. It took until 2006 for a Pink Floyd member David Gilmour to return to front a show.
Keith Richard was knocked to the ground, Mick was strangled, while Brian Jones and Bill Wyman took to their heels…Charlie Watts sat quietly behind his drums watching the scene
Actually, Pink Floyd were not the only rock group to be banned by a rather nervous Royal Albert Hall management. The Nice were not invited back after burning an American flag on stage on 1968. Indeed, all rock acts were excluded from 1972 to the end of the seventies after the banning of Frank Zappa.
Zappa didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he didn’t even appear. The management had just heard rumours that his show contained indecency, and he failed to give a written assurance that he would behave, so his show was cancelled. But then, the Royal Albert Hall is bound by an act of parliament which forbids any show that might insult the monarchy or outrage public decency.
One concert that did neither but is still a dramatic part of the hall’s history took place in 1966. Teenage fans invaded the stage when The Rolling Stones opened their tour there. The New Musical Express reported: “Keith Richard was knocked to the ground, Mick was strangled, while Brian Jones and Bill Wyman took to their heels…Charlie Watts sat quietly behind his drums watching the scene.”
The hall’s official history disputes one aspect of that report, pointing to film from the time which showed that far from Brian Jones rushing to leave the stage “the dandified lead guitarist was hugging his knees and laughing like a mad prince, revelling in the chaos and destruction around him”.
No such madness on the night of 22 September 2011 when Adele’s one-night-only concert was filmed for DVD and became one of the biggest selling music DVDs ever.
The Proms, held there since the Second World War, have an almost indefinable magic. With the seats ripped out of the arena to allow the promenaders to mingle, the summer concerts have a unique atmosphere and inspire great loyalty among the season ticket holding prommers.
Sir Nicholas Kenyon, former head of the Proms said: “There is none of the stuffiness associated with some classical concerts. Instead, there is an openness and an enthusiasm which performers and audiences alike say is unequalled everywhere … the circular sweep of the Royal Albert Hall makes you part of a community which drawls listeners and players together into one vast crowd.”
Sport at the hall has a long and sometimes bewildering tradition. In 1909 it staged the London marathon! Ok, there were only two contestants, but one of them completed 524 circuits of the hall to run the required 26 miles and 385 yards. A few years later, the ever versatile hall installed an ice rink for ice skating.
The hall has been described as the best boxing arena in the country because it is in the round and replete with atmosphere. It certainly appealed to brothers Ronnie and Reggie Kray, who fought on a bill there in 1951, a few years before they became notorious London gangsters.
Sue Barker, who has played tennis there, has said: “There is nowhere quite like it in the world. I remember hitting a tennis ball in the Royal Albert Hall for the first time, and the sound it made was quite eerie.” Eerie too were some of the measures demanded in 1991 when the first Sumo wrestling tournament to be staged outside Japan came to Kensington. The ring needed special consecration after which no women were allowed to set foot on the sacred square. That was a problem for the RAH management as most of the cleaners were women, and male ones had to be hired for the duration.
But while one may immediately think of music or sport or Cirque du Soleil when one thinks of the Royal Albert Hall, one should not forget its original purpose was to celebrate the arts and sciences. Science doesn’t get that much of a look in, though I was fortunate to be present in 1995 at a lecture by Stephen Hawking entitled “Does God throw dice in black holes?” He spoke through his computerised voice box and made the most vivid impression on all of us who were privileged to be present.
There is something about the Royal Albert Hall which inspires even the most eminent scientists. In 1933 Einstein made his famous speech there in which he urged the audience “to stand fast in bitter times against the forces of hatred and oppression”. But he also told the audience that he had been living for some time in the countryside and found that he had been stimulated by it. Why not, he suggested, give refugee scientists jobs as lighthouse men? That would provide them with much needed time for contemplation.
Back with music (though as we shall see, it wasn’t music to everyone’s ears) Bob Dylan first appeared there as a 23-year-old in 1965, captured in the documentary film Don’t Look Back. A year later he was back, giving an acoustic set for the first half of his show and his controversial electric line-up for the second half.
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It proved too much for the reviewer from The Times, who wrote: “There was a marked and disturbing contrast between the two parts of the concert given by Bob Dylan, the American folk singer, at the Albert Hall last night. In the first, and infinitely better half of the evening, Mr Dylan gave an agreeable solo rendering of some of the songs for which he is best known: in the second half he was accompanied by the thunderous quintet who made it virtually impossible to distinguish a single line of the lyrics.”
That’s the problem with the Royal Albert Hall’s versatility. Sometimes newspapers get confused and send to a rock concert their Proms’ reviewer, or tennis correspondent, or women’s institute reporter.
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