Reinventing The Peel

This is the first time I've ever reviewed a piece of theatre. I think it probably shows. And this was mostly a man playing records, God knows what I'd do if faced with Two Gentlemen Of Verona.


JOHN PEEL’S SHED – JOHN OSBOURNE (North Wall)


We first heard “politics” by Girls At Our Best in 1995. Mark Radcliffe opened his Radio One night-time show with that and Wire’s “Our Swimmer” one summer night, we’re pretty certain. We recall it vividly because Radcliffe’s graveyard slot show used to keep us sane when we worked nights in a document archivist’s warehouse. This is relevant because, not only is john Osbourne’s one man show partly about the power of radio to lift the soul whilst doing mindless, poorly paid work, but also “Politics” is the song that’s playing as the North Wall’s house lights go down.

And, yes, frankly any stage show that starts with the performer sitting amongst a carpet of vinyl, spinning tunes whilst the audience files in, and sharing little facts on a vintage overhead projector, is already a hit with us. All these records came from a large box of vinyl Osbourne won in a competition to write a slogan for the John Peel show (including a tantalising LP by Oizone, a punk Boyzone tribute), but anyone dreading – or even hoping for - a Peel-obsessed troglodyte’s celebration of obscure U-Roy versions, or Hefner B-sides, couldn’t be more wrong. Despite the title, this excellent show is less about the great Mr Ravenscroft himself, and more about the importance of radio to people’s lives, and how this cherished medium is rarely discussed or celebrated.

John Peel’s Shed only has a few proper jokes (and one of those was cribbed from Terry Wogan), yet the audience is constantly somewhere between a warm smile and a hearty guffaw, because Osbourne’s delivery is so natural and unaffected: it’s not a slick, predictable comic monologue, it’s more like a cheery chat with someone on a long train journey who unexpectedly shares most of your views. When he stumbles over his words, or fluffs Jo Whiley’s name at a pivotal moment in the script, it only endears him to us more. The only downside of the show is that you want to join in the conversation, and spin a platter of your own.

Osbourne is at his best when he’s passionate about his subjects. His wide-eyed joy at describing Resonance FM’s Me & My Floor, a show in which a child mikes his house carpet for half an hour a day, makes it sound like the greatest piece of conceptual radio ever created. Similarly, Tommy Boyd is someone we have cast into the awkward dustbin of childhood TV memories, along with Gaz Topp and Kate Copstick, and yet Osbourne is such an admirer he’s dubbed Boyd “the Peel of talk”, for his Human Zoo show on TalkSport. You can also feel his disappointment and anger when he discusses second rate, homogenous culture, a trap commercial radio falls into at a depressing rate (although Radio One is far from immune). It made us think of the aftermath of Peel’s death, and the way it was handled by the BBC. Celebrating Peel’s work doesn’t just mean playing “Teenage Kicks” and The White Stripes every ten minutes, and mentioning – but, of course, not broadcasting – The Fall and Captain Beefheart, it means keeping an open mind and a curious set of ears, and ignoring bullshit on every side. For all Osbourne’s celebration of radio, we were reminded that there’s still no substitute for John Peel on national radio, and for anything like his unpretentious inquisitiveness you have to explore Resonance, or perhaps Norwich’s Future FM, where Osbourne broadcast shows exploring the Peel box (download at www.johnpeelsshed.com).

What was the slogan that won Osbourne this vinyl treasure trove? “Records you want to hear, played by a man who wants you to hear them”. It’s actually quite sad that this isn’t the rubric of all music broadcasting, but this wonderful show staves off bland corporate gloss for one more night. Highly recommended.