The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain
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The best musical entertainment in the country... worth traveling a thousand miles to hear." The Independent
"Wonderfully clever." David Bowie
"They demolish the pretensions of the pop industry with flourish... The ukulele has found its avant garde." The Guardian
"A musicologist's nightmare. Excellent." Music Week
"For sheer fun and outright daffiness tied to first-rate musicality and comic timing, few concerts this year matched this ensemble’s November performance [at Carnegie Hall]."
New York Times
"Virtuosic". Guitar Magazine
"Absolutely the Best of British." Monty Python's Michael Palin
"They are among the great entertainers". London Evening Standard
"Plucking brilliant!" Sunday Times
"Most people have to die before they become immortal. These ukulele superstars have no such worries." New Musical Express
"Subversive, rare and very precious... Frighteningly talented and awesome." Time Out
"Impressive solo voices and an absolute mastery of strum, pluck and twang ensured the sheer joy and beauty of the music was never lost in the comedy... Perfectly polished professionalism." The Independent
"The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain may well turn out to be one of the turning points of 21st Century Art. But then again..." Brian Eno
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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Links to Online Articles
New York Times pick the UOGB's Carnegie Hall concert as one of the best of 2010 - click here http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/19/arts/music/19kozinn.html?_r=3
New York Times piece about the UOGB 2009 - click here http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/30/arts/music/30ukulele.html?_r=1&hp
Howard Jacobson (Independent) on our Proms performance 2009 - click here http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/30/arts/music/30ukulele.html?_r=1&hp
Guardian Piece about our Proms debut 2009 - click here http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/aug/16/ukulele-orchestra-great-britain-proms
Telegraph Piece about our Proms debut 2009 - click here http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/proms/6016991/The-Ukulele-Orchestra-of-Great- Britain-interview-for-the-BBC-Proms-2009.html
The Guardian Editorial 2008 - click here. http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/jun/24/2
Independent Review of BBC Radio 4 Ukulele Orchestra Documentary 2008 - click here. http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/reviews/the-ukulele-orchestra-of-great- britain-radio-4-856386.html
German review 2007 - click here. http://www.abendblatt.de/vermischtes/journal/article842550/Tschaikowsky-Nirvana-Die-Ukulele- schreckt-vor-nichts-zurueck.html
Telegraph article 2007 - click here. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/3353980/Striking-a-chord-with-children.html
Time Magazine review 2006 - click here. http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1174748,00.html
The New Statesman review 2006 - click here. http://www.newstatesman.com/200602270036
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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The Times, 2006 - click here. http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/article716021.ece
The Telegraph 2006 - click here. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/3641924/Nirvana-meets-George-Formby.html
BBC reviews 2006 - click here and here. http://www.bbc.co.uk/berkshire/content/articles/2006/06/12/ukulele_orchestra_review_feature.sht ml http://www.bbc.co.uk/stoke/content/articles/2006/07/17/ukelele_orchestra_gb_review_0706_feature .shtml
Transcripts
Editorial from The Guardian Published 24th June 2008 In praise of... The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain
Playing with music is not the same thing as playing music. The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain are masters of both. They don the formal attire of a philharmonic, yet take to the stage armed only with bonsai guitars. The eight-piece ensemble, which is on near permanent tour after 23 years in the business, can turn their talents to literally any composition, from hip-hop to baroque. Tchaikovsky has his place in the repertoire, so too does Kurt Cobain. Ukeleles and vocals are the only ingredients, but they are mixed in versatile ways. The oohs, aahs, whistles and plinky-plonk strumming in their rendition of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly add up to a textured wall of sound that justifies the band's orchestral title. The sound of the ukelele is somehow inherently funny - and cheering. George Formby played the (slightly different) banjolele and, along with Churchill's speeches, it was his pizzicato that kept wartime spirits, well, plucky. It's impossible to listen to the Ukes' play Je T'aime ... Moi Non Plus without smiling. Well, impossible except for those who like their records deadly earnest, and presume musical humour is always a safe and self-satisfied form of wit. The Ukes, however, never fall into that trap: indeed, part of their purpose is punk. Time and again, their deadpan delivery of egotistical lyrics demolishes the pretensions of the pop industry with flourish. A Radio 4 show at 1.30pm today is given over to their unique craft. If you've not the pleasure before, tune in and soak it up for yourself.
Article from The Arts Telegraph by Amy Rosenthal Published Wed 22 Feb 2006
By the time you read these words, the roses will have faded, the chocolates melted into your midriff and St Valentine's Day will seem long gone... we can't orchestrate fate? Speaking of orchestrating, I spent St Valentine's Eve watching The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. Eight performers, each bringing an individual warmth and wit, as well as virtuoso skill, to the playing of this tiny toy-like instrument. They performed a fabulously diverse set, from Miss Dynamite's Dy-na-mi- tee to Neil Diamond's You Don't Bring Me Flowers Any More. At one point, they were all playing a different song at the same time; at another, in an intricate embrace, all eight were plucking the same ukulele. They were clever, funny and fully deserving of the adulation they received from an audience Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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ranging in age from the pensionable to the newborn. Couples, singles and clusters of friends dissolved into one beaming crowd, and by the end we were all standing, begging for an encore. Love, without a doubt, was in the air.
Article from The New Statesman by Natalie Brierley Published 27rd Febuary 2006
“It’s a small guitar”, says George Hinchcliffe when I ask him what a ukulele is exactly. “There are ukulele enthusiasts who will bristle at my saying that, but that’s what it is. A small guitar with four strings.” And easier to play? “No”, he insists. We agree that it is like speaking Indonesian — if that comparison makes the point any clearer — easy to make yourself sound quite decent, but to make exquisite music you need sweat and hard toil.
The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain then, has obviously had a good workout. When they did a gig in Japan, barricades had to be put up to stop them from being mobbed. On their website, girls promise them their knickers. And when fans come out of their concerts they look like they’re on happy drugs. Their compositions can transform old men with a long-term attachment to slippers into party animals. “I haven’t seen my husband enjoy himself so much for years”, said one supporter. “That’s a bit worrying, isn’t it?” says George, lead man of this worldwide phenomenon. I have to agree, but I point out that actually, there is something strange about their gigs. You do come out grinning. You do have to share the experience with everyone you meet. It does feel a little like you’ve joined a sect. So what’s their secret? Is it sex appeal? “I mean, even you George have been described as a sex god”, I say. We’re five minutes into our hot chocolate and cookies in a civilised London bar, and already I feel I can be this impertinent. George laughs. “Well, each of the seven band members does have their own following. We are all such different characters. But I think it’s more to do with what we represent. I think people see a good social model in us. We’re a big family who work well together and help each other. We’re like a political concept put through action rather than theory and talk.”
But that’s not how it all started. It began when George, having finished a fine art degree decided he wanted to go and experience life in South America before embarking on a teaching career. He never made it passed London. He became a secretary, bought his friend Kitty a ukulele, a group of them started jamming and in 1985, they had their first gig at The Roebuck pub in Southwark. It was packed and was shortly followed by radio and television appearances.
When I first saw them (five men and 2 women) step on stage, in smart black tie outfits, I imagined that they were all ex-city slaves who had turned their backs on capitalism for the love of a good sing-song. Alas, not so, but George insists that “there’s too much emphasis today on the distinction between art and business.” “The best accountants I know”, he says “are the ones who work creatively. And then there’s us. We are a tin-pot outfit really; ordinary people who just like to get into the nitty-gritty of the music we play. But we are also a very successful business. Fortunately, we’ve managed to resist becoming part of the glitzy celebrity-lead view of art that so frustrates me. We are just people who are serious about music but don’t take ourselves too seriously.”
And this is exactly what comes across at their concerts. In Britain we really only have George Formby as our strumming benchmark. Few know that Pink Floyd’s Syd Barret started out on a ukulele. But this orchestra believes that all genres of music are available for reinterpretation on the ukulele. Their own comical versions of punk, classical, rock and roll, jazz and rap classics from Life on Mars; Ain’t Misbehavin’; and Smells Like Teen Spirit to Yes Sir, I can Boogie; Je t’aime, moi, non plus; and Kate
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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Bush’s Wuthering Heights — perhaps their most popular, are delivered completely deadpan, and are interspersed with witty and rude banter and jokes. Some of the interjections are obviously in-jokes — regulars were laughing before all the words were out — and I wondered if actually they distracted from the music, which was funny enough in itself. “I’ve often thought that myself”, says George. “But it’s just kind of developed that way. It’s not scripted. It’s just the anarchic demography of the band.” The groupies certainly aren’t complaining, but how much are the band influenced by those followers? Is there a tension between keeping the old crowd pleasers and developing new material that will keep the orchestra developing musically? “Well, obviously there are some numbers that have to stay, just as people would be disappointed if the Rolling Stones didn’t play Brown Sugar. But we are constantly evolving musically. We are always playing around with new ideas. Fame hasn’t changed that.” And what about Kate Bush? There was talk that Wuthering Heights wasn’t on the album because she objected to the band’s version. But, just as there’s no scoop on internal fighting or sordid affairs that one might expect from such a hot group, there’s no dirt here either. Apparently it was just a “mix-up with the PR people,” though George admits that some people are a bit protective of their songs. The Zombies Rod Argent was once a bit miffed that the Ukulele’s finished a set with God gave Rock and Roll to You, a song that he wrote. But, hey, as George points out, “If God has a string instrument, I’m sure it’s a ukulele.”
In the last year alone the orchestra have played to full houses at the Savoy theatre and to 8,000 people at Glastonbury. Yet, to their credit, they still play more intimate venues such as the Cecil Sharpe House in Camden, home to the English Folk Dance and Song Society, where I saw them. In a hall, below which a country dancing practice was taking place, I felt as if I was gate crashing one of my friends parents’ mid 80’s parties — all long hair, home brew and foot stamping. But I was soon joining in, alongside the woman whose jigging nearly sent her claret over her twin set and pearls. And I even spotted some teenagers smiling behind their cokes. “Pure class”, one of them shouted.
When I mentioned the band to an editor of a techno music magazine, he retorted sarcastically, “Just what Britain’s always needed.” But he would do well to remove the drum and base loop from his brain. With cries from fans to “pickle these national treasures for the common good”, and “to make them available on the NHS”, they have the potential to turn our society on their heads. George’s last “proper” job was in the late 90’s, when he helped launch Viagra. He abandoned that to concentrate on music full time. That should make us all sit up and take notice.
Article from The Independent by Howard Jacobson. Published 25th September 2004
Queued the other night to see the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain at the 100 Club in Oxford Street. Not something I normally do, queue. But I make an exception for the ukulele. I'd have queued for George Formby, though the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain makes a point of not associating itself with him. Nothing prudish, I think. Not everyone enjoys songs such as "With My Little Ukulele in My Hand", which had to be withdrawn from sale in 1933 in deference to public decency, but the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain doesn't strike you as censorious.
Its argument with George Formby is aesthetic, not moral. It seeks to demonstrate the virtuosity and grandeur of the little instrument, whereas I suppose you'd have to say that George Formby sought to make it smaller and samier even than it already was. Both acts of irony, but to different ends. And you probably have to come from Lancashire to see that there's irony in George Formby at all.
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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There I was, anyway, waiting on Oxford Street for the doors to open, which is something else I don't normally do. If they want you there they should let you in, is my motto. Detecting my impatience, a facetiously chthonic person in the sort of bird's nest beard and seaman's pigtail you don't expect to encounter outside of a jazz festival in Wales assured me the wait would be worth it. I thanked him. He told me he liked the cut of my jib, sir. I told him I was much indebted to him, squire. He replied that he was pleased to wait upon my pleasure, captain. Shame they finally let us in. What fun we could have had, cross-bantering the night away.
I didn't need his assurances as to the band. Pound for pound, and you can quote me on this, the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain is the best musical entertainment in the country. That I don't know what else is out there I freely admit, but what's that got to do with anything? Critics routinely declare something or other the best play or novel ever written, without their having seen or read - how could they? - all the others. Indeed, my lukewarmness in the matter of most contemporary musical outfits - excluding the Dresden Staatskapelle and the like - is itself proof of the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain's genius: they wouldn't otherwise have caught my ear.
There are five men and two women in the orchestra. One of the women is slinky, within the parameters of the ukulele, the other alternative. They are both sardonic in a way I can only describe as exciting. The men are all versions of my ideal self. One puckishly bohemian, one very tall, laconic and deep voiced, one hard yet still avuncular, one seemingly withdrawn until he unleashes a demoniacal parody of Otis Redding - "'cause mama I'm so hard to handle now" - worth travelling a thousand miles to hear, and one sublimely sleepy-eyed, with an air of debauch which I put the best years of my life into trying, unsuccessfully, to acquire. I don't know any of their names. I don't have any of their photographs above my bed. I am an admirer not a fan. I don't do fan. It is forbidden by my religion.
I try explaining this to a couple I meet at the bar in the interval. It's the same with queuing, I tell them. Being a fan and queuing are both species of idolatry. The only person you should ever queue to see is God. For a moment it looks as though the woman, who is very drunk, is going to ask me where God is next appearing. A reasonable enough question, and one she is by no means the first person to have been troubled by. But her boyfriend, who is also very drunk, gets in before her. "So what is your religion?" he wants to know. "Presbyterian?"
What I can't decide, when the second half of the programme begins, is whether idolatry is the problem after all. It seemed like idolatry in the queue. And it seems like idolatry when the whooping starts. No one whoops at the Dresden Staatskapelle. Or no one "should" whoop at the Dresden Staatskapelle. In fact I'm told that that's exactly what promenaders did do when the Dresden Staatskapelle performed Bruckner's Seventh Symphony at the Albert Hall this summer, but that just underlines what I'm concerned about - the democratisation of performance.
Can you have democratic idolatry? Something of that sort seems to be afoot tonight, anyway, the audience loving itself in the Ukulele Orchestra, clapping and cheering every song as though they have never heard music in their lives before, but at the same time extravagantly celebrating their own familiarity with it.
Is this the Mamma Mia! syndrome? You go to hear what you already know and to be delighted with yourself for knowing it. That what you're singing along to is unadulterated mush is part of the pleasure.
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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It compounds knowingness with knowingness. I think about having a quiet word with the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. I want to put it to them that they must watch the insidious onward creep of the demos, that they are there to enthral us with their musicianship, and not just to rework for our indulgence, however brilliantly, that which is canonical. It is without doubt an awesome musical spectacle, punk pounded out on ukuleles. But so was Bach the last time I heard them. And there is no Bach tonight. Are they, God forbid, becoming a little too popular? It's an elitist joke, after all, the ukulele. It's not for everybody.
A "disgusting little ditty" was how Lord Reith described George Formby's "When I'm Cleaning Windows", before banning it from the airwaves. This should remind us that the ukulele has a proud, subversive, even underground tradition. The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain deserves its success - knighthoods at the very least for what they do with "Wuthering Heights" alone - but, intellectually, I still feel I shouldn't have to queue to hear them.
Article from The Guardian by John L Walters. Published February 10th 2004
Looking for a new band that appeals to the dispossessed, alienated audience stranded between the Scylla of crass commerciality and the Charybdis of half-baked obscurantism? The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain could be the one: they play for everyone, from the dispossessed and lonely to the "mustn't grumble" - a lost generation seeking to transcend everyday existence through the healing power of the ukulele. This is not a crowd that buys David Bowie compilations at HMV. They prefer to hear Life on Mars crooned quietly, backed by seven ukuleles and an acoustic bass guitar, cunningly melded with snatches of My Way, Born Free and Substitute.
Led by George Hinchliffe and Kitty Lux, the UOGB have buffed their act into polished entertainment. They perform with a diffident, dinner-suited aplomb reminiscent of Flanders and Swann or Instant Sunshine. Yet they appeal to people who recognise the Undertones' Teenage Kicks, Jim Webb's MacArthur Park and Devil's Gallop after a few bars.
For the UOGB, the medium is the message: the ukulele's quietude and vulnerability imposes a radical template on every tune. Yet the easy lope of Ms Dynamite's hit Dy-Na-Mi-Tee seems tailor-made: Hester Goodman sings lead over the plunky groove with cheerful pathos, while the male backing vocals acquire a weird intensity. And if Tea for Two reveals their light entertainment roots (complete with Morecambe and Wise-style dance routine) their reading of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, with beautiful whistling from bassist Jonty Banks, makes you realise how beautifully constructed Ennio Morricone's composition is.
The star of the show is Hinchliffe, who has a self-deprecating authority and a mean technique on lead uke. His reinvention of Wuthering Heights as a crooned strumalong - complete with a Cab Calloway- style "Heathcliffe!" call and response - returns this epic to its Yorkshire origins. It's true that a little ukulele goes a long way, but the UOGB don't outstay their welcome. Catch them while they're still playing small venues.
Producciones Lastra S.L C/ Estrella Polar 12, 5º Izq. 28007 - Madrid - Spain ● Tel: +34 91 521 77 23 ● E-mail: [email protected]
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