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Slowing Down
George Melly is 79 nudging 80. You'll probably think, 'That's not old these days'. And it's true, George is still swinging and singing, fly-fishing, flirting, and for now just playing at senility. But it's not as if he were the Queen Mother. He walks very slowly nowadays. He's losing control over his bladder, and his bowels. He no longer, being quite deaf, enjoys noisy parties. He's been seriously ill once, and not quite well often. And he's constantly being probed and tinkered with at St Mary's like an old car in and out of the garage. Sex has walked out on him, but Irish Whiskey, in only slightly diminished quantities, remains a good friend. This remarkably cheerful book is his diary of it all. An extraordinary, darkly funny, frank, and larger-than-life account about how feels to be growing old and irresistibly Slowing Down.
- GenresAutobiography
Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
16 people want to read
About the author
George Melly
29 booksAlan George Heywood Melly was an English jazz and blues singer, critic, writer, and lecturer. From 1965 to 1973 he was a film and television critic for The Observer; he also lectured on art history, with an emphasis on surrealism.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
January 12, 2024
When I was a teenager in the 1970s jazz singer George Melly was a frequent TV talking head and chat show guest. Although not a trad jazz fan, I was immensely drawn to this deliciously camp, larger than life, fruity voiced Liverpudlian, often dressed as though he was an associate of Al Capone, who could talk with erudite and provocative eloquence about music, surrealism, music hall comedy, politics and pretty much any other subject that was thrown at him.
Melly wore many different hats both literally and metaphorically. He was a jazz singer, TV critic, film critic, book critic, Punch columnist, television and radio presenter and documentarist, film scriptwriter, art historian, lecturer and raconteur. In the 60s he wrote a pop music column for the Observer newspaper, the first of its kind, which led to his 1970 book Revolt Into Style, one of the first books about 60s pop music and still one of the best.
John Chilton wrote a song for Melly called Good Time George and this pretty much sums him up. He was a dedicated bon viveur: sex, drink and trad jazz could well have been his motto.
Much drawn to surrealism and anarchism as a teenager (he even kept his collection of anarchist literature in his locker when he was doing his National Service in the Royal Navy, the discovery of which lead to an attempted court martial), he held solidly progressive views (pro CND, anti apartheid, pro gay rights - he was bisexual), but never became a bore about it and was also pleasantly politically incorrect (the old unreconstructed anarchist states of PC in Slowing Down ‘even when I agree with its aim I still resent its obligatory surveillance’). He was a lifelong atheist and humanist (this book includes a withering, but perfectly well reasoned, attack on Mother Teresa, whom Melly describes as ‘a serious backer into the limelight’).
When Melly wrote Slowing Down, his final book, he was in his late 70s and not exactly in the best of health. Much of the book is a chronicle of his deafness, diminishing eyesight, emphysema, mobility issues and loss of memory. His ailments are described with his characteristic candour (he even tells us about the nappies he wears due to his unpredictable bouts of diarrhoea). This might all sound a bit grim but he writes completely without self pity and with his usual wry humour.
His body might have been abandoning him, he died only a couple of years after this book was published, but he was still fully capable of behaving disgracefully. He relates a wonderful story about being apprehended by a young policeman, while relieving himself against a public building, after being caught short following a visit to a restaurant (‘well, sir, this time we’ll overlook it, but next time try not to choose the wall of a police station’). He remained a committed drinker and smoker to the end. He also continued to sing, albeit seated and wearing an eyepatch, which gave him a suitably piratical appearance.
Slowing Down includes a lengthy section about his return to jazz in the early 70s with John Chilton’s Feetwarmers which provides many hilarious tales of drunken and licentious behaviour - their debut album Nuts was recorded live at Ronnie Scott’s jazz club, but the performance was so inebriated they had to re-record it in the studio, and then dub on the rapturous applause they had genuinely received. There are also warm recollections of old friends such as Ronnie Scott himself. The book is illustrated by Maggi Hambling.
George Melly was incapable of writing a dull book and Slowing Down is a funny, sometimes moving and always entertaining read, but new readers should start with his autobiographical masterpiece, the brilliant Owning Up trilogy, published in one volume by Penguin.
Melly wore many different hats both literally and metaphorically. He was a jazz singer, TV critic, film critic, book critic, Punch columnist, television and radio presenter and documentarist, film scriptwriter, art historian, lecturer and raconteur. In the 60s he wrote a pop music column for the Observer newspaper, the first of its kind, which led to his 1970 book Revolt Into Style, one of the first books about 60s pop music and still one of the best.
John Chilton wrote a song for Melly called Good Time George and this pretty much sums him up. He was a dedicated bon viveur: sex, drink and trad jazz could well have been his motto.
Much drawn to surrealism and anarchism as a teenager (he even kept his collection of anarchist literature in his locker when he was doing his National Service in the Royal Navy, the discovery of which lead to an attempted court martial), he held solidly progressive views (pro CND, anti apartheid, pro gay rights - he was bisexual), but never became a bore about it and was also pleasantly politically incorrect (the old unreconstructed anarchist states of PC in Slowing Down ‘even when I agree with its aim I still resent its obligatory surveillance’). He was a lifelong atheist and humanist (this book includes a withering, but perfectly well reasoned, attack on Mother Teresa, whom Melly describes as ‘a serious backer into the limelight’).
When Melly wrote Slowing Down, his final book, he was in his late 70s and not exactly in the best of health. Much of the book is a chronicle of his deafness, diminishing eyesight, emphysema, mobility issues and loss of memory. His ailments are described with his characteristic candour (he even tells us about the nappies he wears due to his unpredictable bouts of diarrhoea). This might all sound a bit grim but he writes completely without self pity and with his usual wry humour.
His body might have been abandoning him, he died only a couple of years after this book was published, but he was still fully capable of behaving disgracefully. He relates a wonderful story about being apprehended by a young policeman, while relieving himself against a public building, after being caught short following a visit to a restaurant (‘well, sir, this time we’ll overlook it, but next time try not to choose the wall of a police station’). He remained a committed drinker and smoker to the end. He also continued to sing, albeit seated and wearing an eyepatch, which gave him a suitably piratical appearance.
Slowing Down includes a lengthy section about his return to jazz in the early 70s with John Chilton’s Feetwarmers which provides many hilarious tales of drunken and licentious behaviour - their debut album Nuts was recorded live at Ronnie Scott’s jazz club, but the performance was so inebriated they had to re-record it in the studio, and then dub on the rapturous applause they had genuinely received. There are also warm recollections of old friends such as Ronnie Scott himself. The book is illustrated by Maggi Hambling.
George Melly was incapable of writing a dull book and Slowing Down is a funny, sometimes moving and always entertaining read, but new readers should start with his autobiographical masterpiece, the brilliant Owning Up trilogy, published in one volume by Penguin.
Want to read
November 14, 2008As I get older, I for sure don't want to read someone else getting older. But then again the writer is George Melly. No, Instead I should read 'Peter Pan.'
July 12, 2010
10/10. This is a fabulous book. I was suprised by how much I enjoyed this one. George Melly shows a wonderful irreverent humour throughout. I look forward to reading his earlier memoirs.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews