Jeff Beck and the mortality clock

Following the sudden and unexpected death of Jeff Beck this week Danny Baker tweeted:

I remember in the 70s when my mum would take the delivered Daily Mirror from our letter box and say maybe, "Oh no … Edward G Robinson has died." I just thought OK, he was an old actor whose time had come. Now my generation are regularly opening their own Daily Mirrors.

Baker is 65, two years older than me, so I know exactly what he means, although I’m more likely to get my news from the Daily Mail or MailOnline.

Often, like Jeff Beck, the deceased is a musician or entertainer I grew up listening to, watching on television, or reading about in newspapers and magazines.

Or they might be sportsmen like David Duckham who played rugby for England in the early Seventies when England were rubbish but Duckham (if he ever received the ball) was brilliant.

Or they might be journalists and writers like Paul Johnson.

Reports of their deaths bring back all kinds of memories so you find yourself swimming in a sea of nostalgia for one’s lost youth.

I wrote about Johnson yesterday but I didn’t mention that I began reading his column in The Spectator when I was a teenager at school, so of course I was reminded of that.

It also brought back memories of other Spectator columnists of that time, writers like Auberon Waugh and Jeffrey Bernard, both of whom I got to meet before they died. So I remembered that too.

David Duckham, whose death was also reported this week, played centre and on the wing for England in the early Seventies.

It wasn’t a good time for English rugby but Duckham was a strong and graceful runner who was good enough to be part of the only Lions team that has won a test series in New Zealand (1971).

News of his death brought back memories of watching Five Nations matches on television on Grandstand on Saturday cold, wintry afternoons.

The pitches were often a mud bath and curiously I remember the matches being in black and white even though we got our first colour TV in 1972.

Like most of my generation I knew Jeff Beck by reputation but you won’t find any of his records in my collection of CDs, cassettes and a smattering of vinyl.

Nevertheless, when his death was announced this week the tributes from fellow musicians were genuinely moving. There was huge affection for him and he was clearly the ‘guitarists’ guitarist’ and a very cool character.

Numerous clips were posted on Twitter and several caught my eye including a very unexpected promo video of Beck playing on a track with Donny Osmond. (Osmond himself posted it as a tribute.)

The one I liked best was Beck performing live with Stevie Wonder in 2010. They were playing ‘Superstition’ which was apparently written by Wonder for Beck before Motown insisted that their artist (Wonder) record it himself.

Watch the video above for the moment Beck plays his solo. It’s a genuine goose bump moment.

Another clip that intrigued me was posted on Twitter by Chris Stein of Blondie. It’s from the 1966 film Blow Up directed by Michelangelo Antonioni and featuring the Yardbirds with Beck and an equally young Jimmy Page.

Also in the clip (below) is the star of the film David Hemmings … and Janet Street-Porter! (She’s the one dancing.)

I was only seven in 1966 but with the death of Jeff Beck and others of that generation I definitely feel the mortality clock is ticking!