Cliff the musical

If Cliff Richard seems to have been around forever, it's because - in pop terms - he has. The man they used to call the Peter Pan Of Pop before Michael Jackson gave the term an entirely different and rather less fortunate redefinition cut his first record in 1958, which means that the one-time Harry Webb from Cheshunt, Herts, has been part of the nation's cultural life for almost 45 years, enjoying a staggering 130 hit singles in the process.

When he was 19 he published his first autobiography, It's Great To Be Young, and further volumes have followed periodically over the years. His life is now about to become the subject of a West End musical, co-written by the former Radio 1 DJ Mike Read, who will also appear playing the older Cliff while younger actors will portray our hero at earlier stages of his career.

Cliff - The Musical is the outcome of many mullet-tastic summits and tennis games based on a friendship formed when Read and Richard realised that they lived in the same village. It's more in the tradition of the Buddy Holly biomusical That'll Be The Day than the recently successful rock-to-stage shows We Will Rock You and Our House, which used the respective works of Queen and Madness to extrapolate stories in the tradition of Pete Townshend's pioneering Tommy. Structured around the central conceit of an 80-year-old Lord Cliff looking back over his career, it will presumably whisk us from the arrival of an Anglo-Indian kid in Home Counties suburbia (his teachers would mock him by asking him whether he missed his wigwam) through his early infatuation with first-generation rock'n'roll and his breakthrough as Britain's very own Elvis clone and ultimately his institutionalisation as domestic rock's first cosy family entertainer.

It is easy to forget, after all these years of Christmas hits, frilly shirts and evangelical Christianity, that Cliff had actually begun his career as the UK's most credible mass-market rocker. Hardcore rock fans might have preferred the gritty rockabilly of Vince Taylor or, a little later, the flamboyant R&B theatrics of Johnny Kidd And The Pirates, but as far as the mainstream was concerned, Cliff was It.

Adam Faith's hiccuping Buddy Holly pastiches had short-term novelty value, due as much to John Barry's ingenious orchestrations as Faith's own vocal eccentricities. Tommy Steele was always more retooled music-hall and children's favourite than rock'n'roll. Former milkman Craig Douglas simply simpered.

And Cliff also had a great group behind him --the Shadows, helmed by lead guitarist Hank Marvin, whose gangling frame, huge spectacles and Fender Stratocaster guitar gave him an uncanny resemblance to Buddy Holly. Indeed, the Shadows had the first Real Proper Actual Fender guitars in Britain, thanks to Cliff, who ordered them specially from Fender's California factory at a time when import controls prevented their sale on British high streets. The Shadows rewarded Cliff by becoming an attraction in their own right, notching up an enviable string of instrumental hits which codified the first indigenous 'beat group' instrumental sound.

Before embarking on the series of clean-teen musicals which began with The Young Ones (and had an unexpected echo 20-odd years later when its title was co-opted for a TV series by a bunch of scuzzy young 'alternative' comics) and Summer Holiday, he'd even made some not unimpressive stabs at serious acting. The young Cliff appeared opposite Anthony Quayle as a young delinquent in Serious Charge and Laurence Harvey in Wolf Mankowitz's Expresso Bongo, as Bongo Herbert, the none-too-bright rocker exploited by Harvey as a fast-talking showbiz hustler.

What changed it all for Cliff was the arrival of the Beatles, closely followed by the likes of the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, the Animals, the Who and a whole string of bands far grittier, more inventive and less deferential than comfy old Cliff and the Shads. Despite being the same age as the Beatles, Cliff seemed to belong to a previous era. Rather than try to match the new youngbloods at their own game - after all, what place was there for Cliff in the kind of world where Bob Dylan was melding dustbowl folklore and French symbolist poetry and the Who were trashing drums and guitars on a nightly basis? - Cliff allowed his natural conservatism full rein.

Having converted to evangelical Christianity and taken a vow of chastity after an early affair went disastrously wrong, Cliff was more likely to be seen sharing a stage with the Rev Billy Graham than with Jimi Hendrix or the Doors --more comfortably attuned to the Eurovision Song Contest than an anti-war rally.

This has more to do with taste and culture than with his religion - after all, three-fourths of U2 are --famously - evangelical Christians also, but their religion hasn't prevented them from having a good time, creating challenging shows and albums, and prominently attaching themselves to causes such as Greenpeace, Amnesty International and the Drop The Debt campaign.

Whether we view Cliff as a great lost rocker or a squeaky-clean sell-out who did his best to smooth all the rough edges off what was once rebel music, we cannot deny him his place in pop history. After all, if pressed, I will admit that the first record I bought was a single by Cliff Richard. Mind you, I was nine years old.

Cliff - The Musical, previewing from Wed 12 Mar, first night Fri 14 Mar, Prince Of Wales Theatre, Coventry Street, W1 (020-7839 5972).