John Griff Column: Showman Lionel puts on a genuine masterclass in the face of adversity

Every year, Blenheim Palace becomes the venue for a kind of musical festival called Nocturne Live. This year, artistes have included newcomer Mica Millar, established stars like Gregory Porter, Emilie Sande and Gabrielle, and even whole orchestras like that of Pete Tong and Jules Buckley. Last year, Lois and I bought each other the same Christmas present – a VIP ticket to see an artist who has shifted over 125 million albums, written more songs than most people have listened to, and collaborated with music makers in just about every genre that exists. There’s not much that Lionel Richie hasn’t done, including singing at the recent Coronation Concert at Windsor Castle.

Six months on from the festive season, you can imagine that we were both excited to be heading for Oxfordshire – despite the loss of our hugely loved dog Max the previous week (Thank you sincerely for your kind words). Both of us had been exhausted by the experience, so going to Nocturne Live felt like a welcome way to change direction.

Our tickets included parking, food and drink and good seats a couple of rows back from the stage. They were priced accordingly too, but having saved up, we saw it as an investment. Blenheim is a wonderful place to visit and this felt special. Roughly 250 others did the same thing and for however brief a moment it felt good to be taken care of, be in the main palace and dine there before pausing to go outside and watch the acts perform. It also felt good to be doing so on a blazing hot day, rather than standing in a cagoul in the mizzling rain.

Musical proceedings started with Mica Millar and her band. Currently on the road with her debut album and being feted by Jazz FM, she has a strong, bluesy style which will stand her in good stead I’m sure. Amongst other people she thanked her backup singers for sewing her into her stage dress when the previous item had suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the zip department. Then came Gabrielle – someone who’s been there, done that and no doubt has all the T-shirts. Relaxed and clearly having a ball, she joked about previous relationships and working through the menopause, before taking a break in the middle of her own set to allow her backup singers to come to the centre of the stage with their own mini set – something I’d not seen before, but appreciated, as did the rest of the audience.

Finally, at around 9.30 in the evening, it was, at last, time for the main event. Criticised somewhat after the coronation concert gig for what was seen as a below par and over-sung performance, I wasn’t too sure what to expect from Lionel Richie. Had his time come and gone? Was he on the other side of the hill and making a hasty descent? Time would tell.

Actually, it was to be quite a long time. To tumultuous applause, the headline act was introduced to the crowd, the band struck up its first chord – and what sounded like loud mechanical flatulence reverberated around Blenheim’s court. Lionel Richie – radio earpieces plugged in – strode onto the stage, opened his mouth – and everything shut down. The crowd, fully aware that the power had gone out, gleefully applauded. Lionel Richie, fully UNaware of what had just happened, tried to sing on. In silence.

Eventually the now patently obvious dawned on Mr Richie – who looked mortified, mimed an apology and was beckoned off stage while the tech team continued to restore power to everything.

After about 5 minutes and with the musical blue screen of death rebooted, the screens, PA and lights all came back on, accompanied by a huge cheer from out front. From the depths of the offstage area a familiar voice uttered the immortal words ‘Check…One…Two…’ and the band struck up again. We were back – and so was Lionel!

Well, almost.

Mechanical flatulence struck again and everything went silent, but more swiftly than before. Lionel Richie looked briefly amazed, then bemused and then turned, pausing to wave mid-turn – before vanishing again. Twenty minutes into what should have been his triumphant set, we’d had half of one song intro and about three ‘Owwww-yeaahhh...’ utterances from the star.

Believe me, I have sympathy for the tech team. I have witnessed similar problems from backstage myself – but not on this scale. Occasionally the gods are simply against you. Or the headline act. Or the audience. At Blenheim, by now a weird kind of chattering had begun. Was Lionel heading for the helipad? Had the Stage Manager been plugged into the national grid as punishment for such ignominy? Would we actually get to the first verse of a Richie classic before dawn the following day?

Indeed yes, we would. Because after a further 10 minutes of kicking, unplugging, rebooting and praying to the gods of live entertainment, the power came back on – and stayed on until the end of the night. Lionel positively bounded onto the stage and proceeded to tear through his set as though possessed – ‘we’ve got songs, we’ve got songs’ he kept saying animatedly. He DID have songs – but by now he’d lost half an hour of set time, Blenheim having a strict 11pm curfew. We might have missed a couple of the more minor hits, but there was still material from his Commodores days, not to mention the 80s, 90s and 00s as well. And at 10.59 I certainly did not feel as though we’d been short changed as the gig closed.

And the masterclass?

Finally settled into his set, Lionel Richie paused between songs and said something that will stay with me for a long time. ‘You may think I'm really annoyed about tonight's start. Believe me – I LIVE for this stuff – and now we’re REALLY gonna have some fun!’

And we did, having ALL had the same Nocturnal evening. We had rooted for him as our hero too, rather than just sitting back and waiting to be entertained. With all his experience he’d not got angry, had kept calm and used the power outages as a springboard to ratchet up his performance – to our benefit.

That masterclass was worth the price of the ticket alone.