If the young Cliff Richard was initially groomed as a British version of Elvis Presley, there’s an argument to suggest that Adam Faith was seen as a potential homegrown Buddy Holly. The hiccup in his singing voice is an illustration of that thinking, as are the pizzicato strings of his chart debut What Do You Want? (No 1 in 1959), clearly modelled on Holly hits such as Raining In My Heart and It Doesn’t Matter Anymore.
It wasn’t quite the beginning of the Faith story, as told on this box set comprising his recordings for the HMV, Top Rank and Parlophone labels between 1958 and ’68. Like Cliff, Faith was a familiar face on the Soho coffee bar scene and was first presented to a wider audience via rock’n’roll TV shows. Faith was a regular on Drumbeat, the BBC’s short-lived response to ITV’s more celebrated Oh Boy!, which gave Richard such an important leg-up.
Not that Faith dealt in wholesale Holly covers, his HMV output including fairly unremarkable versions of hits by Jerry Lee Lewis (High School Confidential), Gene Vincent (Say Mama) and Eddie Cochran (C’mon Everybody). Eventually, his partnership with composer, arranger and fellow Drumbeat alumni John Barry brought chart-topping success, though the vocal mannerisms of the aforementioned What Do You Want?, Poor Me and Lonely Pup veer awkwardly close to novelty.
Oftentimes, Barry could be accused of pouring too much into the mix, shoehorning lush orchestrations and more raucous rock’n’roll motifs into the same song. Made You, for example, can’t seem to make up its mind whether it wants to be matinee idol MOR or a remake of Johnny Kidd & The Pirates’ Shakin’ All Over. Ultimately, the Fab Four-led beat group explosion meant diminishing returns for Faith and many of his contemporaries (Billy Fury, Marty Wilde), but his mid-to-late 60s work is nonetheless peppered with some thoughtful and intelligent pop; there’s a pleasing folk jangle to Cheryl’s Going Home and Cowman Milk Your Cow, the latter written by, and featuring members of, The Bee Gees.
In terms of career reinvention, Faith was more successful than most. His title role as a petty villain in Budgie arguably made him TV’s most popular actor in the early 70s, and he also triumphed playing a roadie in the David Essex film Stardust, ironically telling the story of the beat group scene that brought his own pop heartthrob days to an end. Parallel activities as a talent manager saw him instrumental in Leo Sayer’s rise to stardom.
The short synopsis of Faith’s life in music will always focus on those first few hiccupping hits (an easy touchstone for comedy impressionists), but the final two discs of this box set especially reveal so much more, including articulately emotive readings of Burt Bacharach (A Message To Martha) and the type of powerful balladry more commonly associated with Scott Walker. These songs may not have troubled the Hit Parade, but they’re arguably his true best of.
