adept at catching the ephemeral muse, and if there was “something in the air”, Laurie Johnson grabbed it. Later, he passed the baton (both figuratively and literally) to the likes of Alan Hawkshaw, Tony Hatch and disco meister/producer Biddu, another genius who did for film in the late ’70s what Johnson did for TV, collaborating with songwriter John Howard and releasing a series of classic singles. Today, that muse lives in Joby Talbot, the idiosyncratic Divine Comedy keyboardist and League Of Gentlemen orchestrator whose approach is steeped in cult TV, and who might be the only deserving heir to Laurie’s leather and Formica throne. Not that he looks like vacating it any time soon.


We mustn’t forget, though, that while primarily a composer, Johnson has many strings to his bow, or keys to his horn (fnarr). The New Avengers was jointly his own creation, thanks to Mark One, the production company he, Fennell and Clemens formed in ’71, but, lest we forget, Steed and Gambit weren’t the only ones screeching round the Home Counties chasing the bad guys. Three other individuals spring to mind – the Scouser, the Scotsman and the Brummie from the dangerous organisation with the green and white logo. No, not Celtic FC.


The Professionals was launched in ’77. Laurie not only wrote that tune and all the incidental pieces, but co-produced, acted as assistant casting director, and even devised several plotlines. Most Englishmen over a certain age cite the programme as a favourite: the jolting attack of brass, strings and wah-wah guitar screamed “intrigue”, “excitement”, “car chases” and “girls” in a way no other soundtrack had before, and hearing it now still chills the spine of anyone who dreamt of being Bodie or Doyle (I know I did) and ending up with fantastic birds like Linda Hayden and Pamela Salem. Laurie’s utilises a grittier, more urban (in the correct sense of the term) style here than in The Avengers, where dreamlike whimsy and an almost proto-psychedelic sensibility allowed for such things. His versatility was further demonstrated as the budget grew, taking in exotic locations which allowed him to tap into a variety of cultures. Thus, the show bridged two distinct eras – the creative, gritty ’70s and the flamboyant, economically bleak ’80s – and continued its extravagance right into the age of Thatcherism.


Not that Maggie bothered Johnson too much. Sadly his autobiography contains ample evidence of our trumpet-wielding genius’s not only Tory but Royalist tendencies. A product of his time? Possibly, and refreshing proof that not everyone in the arts is a card-carrying member of The Red Brigade, but still a let-down in the reality stakes. More worryingly, the material on the third Edsel disc, includes marches for Royal Tournaments, inaugurations and parades in honour of HRH Prince Charles. The scintillating dynamics and great harmonies are still present (French horn and bassoon figuring prominently), yet the whole premise still seems unnecessary.


Unfortunately, the lives of our older heroes are full of this: we already know Peter Cushing


37


Mrs Peel... We’re Needed


A stately man in a bowler hat is attempting to uncork a bottle of champagne when a beautiful woman fires a gun at him –the cork pops, the champagne froths and together they toast the first thrilling chords of Laurie Johnson’s theme tune... This opening scene from The Avengers must rank as one of the most suggestive and exciting in ’60s television, though the show had rather more staid beginnings. Starting out as routine drama in which Ian Hendry attempted to avenge the death of his wife with help from sidekick Patrick Macnee (the suave Steed) but morphing into something very different (“spy-fi”) for the second series – enter the dynamic Honor Blackman and her leathers. From then on the series would team Macnee with a string of female associates, all working for unspecified organisations and defending Britain from such as foes as the muderous Cybermen. The incomparable Diana Rigg (Emma Peel) followed


Blackman, and in ’67 The Avengers went Technicolor after backing from ABC; the show playing no small part in promoting “Swinging Britain” in the US. After Rigg bowed out, Linda Thorson would be Steed’s last aide and in ’69 after falling ratings (ABC incredibly scheduled the show against Rowan And Martin’sLaugh In) The Avengers was cancelled. Macnee and Thorson would accidentally launch themselves into space in the final episode... If only Steed had remained in orbit... but in ‘78 The New


Avengers was commissioned, sans all the original’s charm and arch humour. Emma Stott


shared similar sympathies. It’s something we have to accept, like the alleged “insularity” of the entertainment industry which begat Johnson, Clemens, Fennell, directors Robert Fuest and Sydney Hayers, and close associates Bernard Miles and Jack Parnell. It’s often been alleged these are no more than an “old boys network”, who made programmes because they could, (to the consternation of those without such privilege), and there is some truth in that, but how many people in this business can truthfully turn round and say they had an idea they went ahead and turned into reality? And wouldn’t you like to see others do the same?


Anyway, hobnobbing with the gentry can have interesting consequences. In 1984 Johnson,


Fennell, Clemens and John Hough (the man responsible for The Legend Of Hell House and Black Carrion) bought the Gainsborough film company, which had lain inactive for years, and began an association with Barbara Cartland, adapting her novels for the big screen. These tales of swarthy swashbucklers, frilly-bloused heroes, buxom bints in bustles and glooming Berkshire castles were good, unadulterated fun: not Shindig! material, but don’t knock it. All the elements we admire are still there, they were the only British productions that decade (Handmade Films notwithstanding) to reach a wide audience, and everyone has long hair! The period-set excesses of the “Pink Lady” may seem unlikely materials for Johnson’s urbane sounds, but closer inspection shows otherwise. The composer’s understanding of her work (90% terrible, but yielding occasional diamonds) is proof of his appreciation of “the romantic” in the broader sense, the same quality that enabled him to devise fitting accompaniments for the likes of Diana Rigg, Linda Thorson and Honor Blackman and accurately convey the menace of characters such as Sir John Cartney, the evil debauchee portrayed by Peter Wyngarde in perennial Avengers favourite ‘A Touch Of Brimstone’.


Fennell’s death in ’89 left an unfillable gap, but Johnson struggled on undeterred. The ’90s were less productive but saw some incredible live performances: these days he’s more likely to be found lecturing a university Union on composition than actively working, but it could be said he’s more than earned a break. At 82, he shows no plans to retire. Doubtless he will also continue to pursue non-commissioned, sporadic jazz-based ventures and neo-classical fusions at intervals for pleasure, with a mixture of small groups and orchestras- which still have the ability to surprise, although don’t expect the avant-garde. Whilst they may have both played in military bands in the late ’40s, the chances of Laurie going all freeform on us ala Derek Bailey are about as likely as a new Avengers or Professionals series. Mind you, I wouldn’t mind seeing either happen…


Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me, I have a lady coming over. As I search for the remote control to my foldaway revolving bed, and the cyanide pills, I raise my glass to Laurie. Dear boy, I wouldn’t be here without you.


• Where’s Laurie? The New Avengers cast and crew pose for the camera in 1978.


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