I DO HAVE a strong Christian faith but I am one of those people who like to think that I live in the real world rather than in some fantastical, magical place of make-believe. So unfortunately, terrible things sometimes happen. Sadly, one such terrible thing happened to my dear friend Roy Castle, who as you probably know died from lung cancer – despite him being a non-smoker – brought on from the passive smoke he inhaled while performing in clubs as a brilliant trumpet player and all-round performer for years.
I find that choirs can often provide the magical ingredient for some of the most uplifting, emotional and beautiful music ever written. Naturally, much of that music has religious overtones. This is one of my great loves, writing music for choirs and music that includes choirs. To this end I’d written a special piece called The Gospels, which was based on the story of Jesus as told by the four gospels: Mathew, Mark, Luke and John. It was a simple idea but by contrast the composition contained some very difficult music.
I’d needed some money to record this complex oratorio, but the meagre funding I did secure meant that, to be brutally honest, the recording was really poor because I was so very limited with what I could do. In fact, most of it was recorded in a small studio on a boat in Walton-on-Thames. It was not good. Even though I managed to get the wonderful tenor Ramon Remedios to sing for peanuts – because he loved the music so much – we were fighting against the odds and the end result was still a compromise. To make matters worse, the label bringing out the album had experienced financial problems whilst putting together their television campaign. Eventually they went bust and the record pretty much sank without trace. We played the piece live as charitable events a few times at concerts in cathedrals such as Bradford and Tewksbury but that seemed to highlight the shortfalls for me even more. It was so frustrating. People would say, ‘What’s the matter?’ and I’d say, ‘It’s wrong – the music is not right, there are chunks missing, the whole thing is just wrong, I don’t like it.’ In fact, after Bradford I came off and said, ‘That’s it, I’m not performing that ever again.’ There are a few vinyl copies of the original recording lying around and they are quite collectable if you can find them! Mind you, if people ever say, ‘Rick! I’ve got a copy!’ I always say ‘Well, don’t play it, because it’s terrible.’
I was very good friends with Roy Castle and after he’d already had the terrible diagnosis about his lung cancer he called me up one day to ask if I’d perform at a press launch for his campaign to start a specialist foundation and research facility in Liverpool to beat lung cancer. Of course I agreed, so I went along on the day with my son Adam.
Roy walked into the press conference and smiled warmly at the waiting press pack. Now, before I tell you what happened, let me qualify what I am about to say. I have lots of friends who are journalists – some of them have become really good friends and most are truly genuine people, thoughtful and caring and passionate about their job (in fact, I’m engaged to a journalist who hopefully will be Mrs Wakeman by the time you get to read this). However, there are a very small percentage who are even lower than pond life.
We sat there in this big room listening to questions from the press to this man who was dying from a cancer he had done nothing to deserve. Most of the questions were sensible and necessarily poignant and Roy was as sublimely dignified as ever. Then one particular writer, who shall remain nameless but should be ashamed right up until the day he passes away, said, ‘Roy, you are a religious man, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am a Christian,’ said Roy gently.
‘Well, your god’s just given you cancer and he’s going to kill you, so what do you think of your god now, then? Eh?’
It was so offensive and I remember shaking in fury at the shame of the man’s words. To be fair, every other journalist present looked equally shocked: it was so inappropriate and callous. If I’d been in Roy’s position and anyone had asked me that question, I’d have struggled not to jump up and punch him on the nose. But Roy was incredible. Without a flicker of anger, he smiled and said, ‘We all wonder sometimes why we are put on this earth, what the reason is that we are here. I certainly have a reason now. I’m going to build this centre, which with luck will prevent maybe thousands of people from getting the same cancer that I have and maybe save many lives. If I hadn’t become ill I wouldn’t be doing this, so now I know why my god gave me this. So, in so many ways, I am thankful to God.’
All the journalists as one applauded Roy’s answer, except for the man who had asked the incredibly insensitive question. He left the room in disgrace.
Roy was an amazing character in so many ways. The reason I’m telling you this is because Roy called me a while later when he was getting really quite poorly and was nearing the end. He’d been out continually fund-raising despite his deteriorating health and had somehow managed to raise money and also the profile of his cause to a super level. He phoned me up and said, ‘Rick, I’d love you to perform a concert at Liverpool Cathedral. Would you do that for me?’ Of course I said yes straight away.
‘I’d like you to play The Gospels please. I love that record.’
My heart sank. I wanted to help Roy out, but I didn’t want to play a piece that I felt was not right, especially in such important circumstances. I took a deep breath and said, ‘Roy. I don’t actually play the piece any more as it’s got so many things wrong. It’s my fault. The budget was low and it didn’t have the care and attention it really needed. It wants a complete rethink with new music and new narration. One day, I’ll rewrite it properly but it will take a few months to do.’
‘Rick, maybe you’d rewrite it for me?’
This was surely an impossible task. I was really worried that I couldn’t rewrite it in time for the concert. It was a very long work, with a full choir, a large band of musicians, a narrator and an operatic tenor.
‘The problem is, Roy, it’s a mess and as I said, it needs a complete rewrite over a few months and I’m not sure I have got enough time.’
‘You haven’t got enough time?’ There was certainly a touch of irony in his voice!
His words pierced straight to my heart and I felt quite ashamed, but before I could apologise, his now cheeky voice continued with, ‘Rick, how do you think I feel?! I probably won’t even be there to witness the concert, although I’ll be watching from Heaven’s balcony.’
‘Roy, of course I will do it for you. The rewrite starts tomorrow.’
Roy Castle died in September 1994, two days after he turned sixty-two. The charity concert in Liverpool Cathedral went ahead and the schedule was so tight for the rewrite that the ink was literally barely dry on the sheet music by the time I had to drive to the concert. It was that close. Over three thousand people came to the cathedral that day and the oratorio was performed beautifully by all who took part. It was a magical, phenomenal night. Afterwards, Roy’s lovely widow Fiona came to say hello and I thanked her for having us play and then said, ‘This is all Roy’s doing. It would have been so lovely if Roy had been here to hear what he made happen.’