G-Clefs biography

It has to be said at the outset that this is not, in the technical sense, a well written book: there are  grammatical errors and infelicities which meaning you occasionally have to rewrite a sentence in your head to make sense of it - and don't get me started on the apostrophes. Was there really no one to cast an incisive eye over musician Mike Devlin's MS before it was shared with the world?

That said, this is still a compelling tale: stick with it and you will learn to filter out the blemishes, like tuning out the bacon sizzle on a 78 once the music grabs hold. And it is liberally illustrated with photographs of the group in action and posters and flyers for gigs.

The story begins some time before Devlin's fateful meeting with the group who would involve and expasperate him over a ten year period. Playing guitar as a young man to supplement his meagre wages as a computer operator he is approached, somewhat to his surprise, to join several bands led by showmen of varying abilities. He learns his craft from these and others along the way before a performance at a birthday bash leads to the momentous meeting with the G-Clefs and an invitation to perform regularly with the group, famous for such hits as I Understand (a favourite of Clarke Davis's) and Ka-Ding-Dong.

The story is then set out more or less gig by gig, spaced out over those ten years. This is the point at which some biographies can become a bit repetitive, but not so here. Provided you have gotten over those surface errors you will find yourself drawn into what is undoubtedly a warts-and-all account: individual members of the G-Clefs make stupid, seemingly irrational, decisions, passing up rare chances to advance their careers, or fall out, get drunk and collapse in a pool of blood while the rest of the group do their best to carry on.

The way he tells it, the eventual sundering between Mike and the G-Clefs doesn't seem to have been handled with particular grace by the group, especially after such a long working relationship, but you don't get the sense that this narrative is about settling scores. Some years later he is invited to a surprise seventieth birthday party of one of the group members, which he accepts. His summing up of the experience is enough to provide a taste of his writing style - you know what he means, more or less, though it's not quite what he's actually saying:

There was none of that reminiscing about our time together, but that was okay with me. Besides, I didn't think we would get through any part of our previous journey as we struggled to become one in unison with a shared common goal; to make the best music we could.

It wouldn't matter so much, I suppose, zipping by in conversation, but it shows up on the printed page. Unless that's just me.

The hard copy of this book also contains a "Special Added Feature" entitled "Doo-Wop and The G-Clefs: In Their Own Words". I haven't read this yet, but from a cursory glance it looks as though someone has actually subedited this: there don't seem to be the errors found in the main text (though both pieces are credited to Devlin). As I say, however, the eye and the mind adjust, and I would still recommend the book overall, but - a bit like those chances the group allow to pass them by - it's hard to understand why those extra steps weren't taken to make the text that bit more accessible.

These two tales - the bandleader's and the vocal group's - can be bought as separate ebooks but it feels right that they are between the same covers in the book proper. I don't yet know whether "In Their Own Words" will contain any startling revelations absent from the other side's account but there is a definite sense in the latter that however close Devlin gets to the G-Clefs through rehearsing and playing these many gigs they remain forever, in some essential way, closed off to him. When, for example, he is told that someone has been excluded from the group for a year, or that they have turned down a potential Vegas gig, it is not presented as something up for possible negotiation. The implication is: they have spoken, and they share a past whose significance no outsider can hope to understand.

Seeing that demarcation line is fascinating. It takes me back to that remark of Ben E King's quoted in Gerri Hershey's Nowhere to Run. Trying to explain the supreme importance of his streetcorner singing days King says: "Those guys knew when you were gonna breathe." How can a newcomer compete with three decades or more of that kind of closeness?

Yet there is contradictory behaviour. At one point Devlin is deeply hurt when a member of his band tells him that one of the singers commented that two of his musicians (Devlin himself seems to be excluded) couldn't play the music properly because they were white. When, at the next formal meeting between group and musicians, Devlin directly asks the group member whether he has any issues with any members of the band he says, head down, "No, I don't", and that is the end of that. During the same meeting, however, Devlin learns that the G-Clefs have turned down two potentially lucrative gigs in London (could this have been one of the Capitol Gold rock'n'roll shows?) and Philadelphia because the promoters only wanted them, not the band - which suggests loyalty and respect for their regular musicians' contribution (unless it was simply fear of the unknown).

During that surprise birthday party referred to earlier for the first time someone in the G-Clefs' camp admits to Mike that the group treated him badly but he is able to be magnanimous:

I reminded myself that it's not what they did to me; it's what they did to themselves.

There are several clips on youtube of the G-Clefs performing live during the timeframe of this book. Like the book they sure ain't smooth (unlike some of their earlier studio recordings) but it's easy to see that they must have been thrilling to watch live, whatever the ragged edges. They weren't gigging every night - Devlin makes the point that together they only did 42 shows over ten years - so was the group's decision to turn down Vegas about fears of the discipline involved? Was it simply that over long years they knew their limitations?

Anyway, here is their version of Can't Do Sixty No More.




DOO-WOP! and THE G-CLEFS: The saga of America's last original Doo-Wop group from the 1950s still performing by Michael G Devlin can be bought at amazon, Barnes and Noble, and possibly elsewhere. There does not seem to be a dedicated website.