Have You Picked Your Desert Island Discs?
“Is that not for old people?” she¹ said when I shared my devotion to Desert Island Discs…
Well, maybe I am old. Maybe I have more time behind me than before me. Maybe I have become more sensitive to what’s important, more aware that the secrets to life are usually to be found right under our noses. I have recently moved into a different demographic. I’m counting down the less than half-a-decade until I can get an apartment with an allotment in that prestigious complex for the slightly more mature just round the corner. But I’d argue Desert Island Discs is for every generation. I am obsessed with the back catalogue, the fact that those from all walks of life can accompany me on my walks. I like to listen to two episodes back-to-back whilst simultaneously admiring the sky and keeping my eyes peeled to the ground. There are a lot of dogs about. I never play it at 1.5 speed. It’s not a burden like those other talky podcasts that never tell me anything new. I tend to re-listen to the stories that move me most. I have to restrain myself from constantly gushing about particular episodes. I can get any career advice I want there - forensic scientist, costume designer, epidemiologist, chef, snooker player. There have been folk singers, Formula 1 executives, crossbench peers, footballers and that’s just in one four-week period. Want to know about leadership? Forget the Harvard Business Review and those endless corporate panels. Desert Island Discs should be on every CEO’s curriculum. It is a rich archive of life lessons.
Recently, I’ve been creating my own playlist, my ‘Desert Island Discs’, the soundtrack to my life. It’s just on the very, very off chance. Never mind your MBEs and your OBEs, your TED talks, and your handshakes with a President. If bucket lists had bucket lists…. It’s been hard though. I’m limited to eight tracks. I’ll get the Bible, the Complete Works of Shakespeare. I’ll have to pick a book, a luxury item. Those would require a bit of thought, but it would be the music I’d deliberate over most. Which parts of my journey would feature? Who would get a melody dedicated to them? Would I be nostalgic? Political? Soppy and sentimental? Which personality would win - the disco/pop/rave me, the cynic, the spiritual guru?
I think it’s the effortlessness I admire most. We often forget that it’s the simplest innovations that have the most longevity. Desert Island Discs started with an idea, immediate action and some fortuitousness with the paperwork.
“Late one evening in 1941, freelance broadcaster Roy Plomley was at his home and already in his pyjamas, when an idea came to him. He sat down and wrote immediately to the BBC. That letter reached the in-tray of the BBC’s Head of Popular Record Programmes, Leslie Perowne. The pitch was successful, and a broadcasting institution was born”².
Of course, I want to hear what each individual has picked. There’s always a surprise. I’ve made many eclectic discoveries. I enjoy listening to paths I will never tread but I am mainly interested in the insights of people whose paths I yearn to tread - the artists, writers, poets, creatives. How did they get there? Did their music help them? Many will say their story is in the lyrics they choose, that it’s songs that got them through the toughest times. When all seemed hopeless, they put on a record. I’ve even made notes on the universal themes that emerge — work is never worth more than family, a lucky break usually comes when someone sees something in you, persistence pays off. Childhood matters but having a good one isn’t everything. Divorce, death, abandonment all feature. There are those with many siblings - Anne Enright’s memory of events was never the official one in her house because there were four others who would say she was wrong. There are a lot of successful only children. Parents have backed them all the way. Rick Rubin’s mum Linda’s full-time job was him. She was his driver. “Where are we going today?” she’d ask. Betty Boothroyd, who described becoming an MP in 1973 as “a triumph of stamina, faith, hope and bloody-mindedness” talked about the fear of losing her West Bromwich seat. “Never mind dear, you’re still my daughter,” said her mother.
For others, it’s been partners who have inspired them most. Brian Cox (the actor one) chose the Beach Boys’ God Only Knows because it encapsulated his relationship with his wife. He didn’t know where he’d be without her. Richard E. Grant became audibly emotional during Sting’s Fields of Gold. “It never fails to reduce me,” he said. “I have no religious conviction whatsoever, but the fantasy of finding that person that you’ve loved again is what you long for”. Musicians have rarely picked their own hits but have instead included those of their offspring. Kirsty Young, a presenter for twelve years, erred on the side of caution and selected a disc for every member of her family.
It’s always an emotive thirty-five minutes. Loss predominates. Mary Berry chose Sailing by Rod Stewart because it was played at her son’s funeral. Lesley Manville broke down when reliving her sister’s illness. Robert Webb shared how he’d made a mixtape of his mother’s favourite songs after her death from breast cancer when he was a teenager. Comedians have more philosophical depth than those from any other sector - Dara Ó Briain’s thoughts on his adoption, Simon Pegg’s on home. Businessmen and women, promoters, entrepreneurs would give it all up for love. The retailer, Malcom Walker, focused on being surrounded at his seventy-fifth birthday party by his grandchildren as the greatest achievement of his life. The most poignant episodes have not been famous names - Waheed Arian, a radiologist who came to the UK as an Afghan refugee, Andrew Ramroop, a Savile Row tailor who grew up in Trinidad and was only the second person to leave his village, Professor Nick Webborn, Chair of the British Paralympics who asked for You’ll Never Walk Alone because it was almost you’ll never walk again for him after a rugby injury in his early twenties. All are grateful for the opportunity to process their lives. They find it cathartic. “I didn’t know I needed this,” they’ll say.
But I’ve learned our story can’t really emerge until we’ve done enough chapters, that it is too early, too speculative to pick your discs too soon. Adele and Ellie Simmonds were interesting guests, but it is 91-year-old Leslie Caron and 83-year-old Jean Golding who have the most wisdom to impart. Elton John’s appearance in 1986 in his thirties is almost irrelevant because he had so much more ahead of him.
And so, to my ‘Desert Island Discs’, the ones for now. Who’s to say these won’t be revised if it takes a lot longer for the very, very off chance to happen…
And the book? Well, it’ll not be a novel because there’s nothing worse than knowing the ending. I’ve always liked limericks though.
The luxury item? It would be a toss-up between tweezers to ensure I’d eliminated all the chin hair when rescued or prescription sunglasses so I can see the boat coming. I am fully expecting not to stay there.
That’s mine. Have you picked your Desert Island Discs?
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[1] Someone said this to me recently and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was… If it was you, get in touch!
[2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/59YrnYM0Tw8J7WJ0MGKVfh7/the-history-of-desert-island-discs (external link).
