The popular voices of the BBC from yesteryear.

The popular voices of the BBC from yesteryear.

Last night BBC Four did it again. They gave us one of those intriguing retro- cum nostalgia music programmes that seem to be turning into their hallmark. The 'Popular Voices of the BBC' was very tastefully presented and allowed us another glimpse into those apple cheeked years when everything was in grainy black and white, the TV set resembled a goldfish bowl and pop music in both the USA and Britain enjoyed one of those idyllic periods of go ahead dynamism, sing along musicality, two of the most influential bands ever to take the stage and  happy go lucky, danceable songs that most of us would hum along to for weeks and months afterwards.

This time the BBC went on its very own magical, mystery tour around those imposing music cathedrals where everything was, quite literally groovy, stylish, hip, far out, mainstream and commercially acceptable at the same time. It was pop music of the 1960s, that quite definitely belonged to that very revolutionary decade where the likes of photographer David Bailey, fashion designer Mary Quant and a band called the Beatles changed the whole dynamic of the decade both culturally and emotionally.

The first familiar face was the one and only Ella Fitzgerald, that legendary American singer with a voice like a jet engine and presence on stage that commanded attention and comment. Not only was Ella Fitzgerald one of the most popular voices of all time she could also project her voice into another country without the need to check the map to find out where it was going. It was a powerful and all conquering voice with a full petrol tank of deeply felt emotions, raw earthiness and clear articulation.

When Ella Fitzgerald belted out her standards the world seemed to stop on its axis, a thunderous thorax of a voice that once broke a glass in a 1970s TV advert for tapes. Fitzgerald's treatment of the magnificent 'Mack The Knife' seemed almost an apt metaphor for this woman of substance. Effortlessly, the voice could conceivably cut through butter. Then it became progressively louder and more authoritative as the song reached its most spectacular crescendo.

 In last night's show, the BBC showed that big voice at its mightiest and weightiest, the best notes soaring into the air like a flight of geese. There was a genuine conviction, meaning and purpose about this showbiz queen that illustrated that this woman was back in town and meant business. Fitzgerald almost seemed to own the stage with the kind of swooping and swelling jazz voice that seemed to change its key without even thinking about it.

Fitzgerald's voice had that passionate, driven quality that conveyed something that was personal to her. The pitch and tone of the voice had a force and gravitas that very few black singers could achieve. When she hit the highest of notes it almost felt like a major news story had broken, an earth shattering announcement from an ABC news room. It was a large, majestic voice, strong and propulsive, handling the classics with both grace and dignity.

 It was heartfelt and meaningful, full of shade and light, smoky, urgent and evocative of the whole jazz scene of America during the 1960s. There was the almost regulation finger clicking, eyes closed, smouldering performance that most Ella fans had always known, a microphone in her hands held with an almost tender possessiveness.

Shortly afterwards there was Joe Cocker whose voice will always be associated with that feelgood, 1980s box office movie phenomenon Dirty Dancing. In the final moments of the film, alongside the  melodious Jennifer Grey, Cocker's growling, gravelly voice provided the perfect backing sound track to a film that gushed with schmaltzy saccharine sweetness.

In this BBC tribute to the outstanding singers from long ago, Cocker paid his own unique tribute to the Beatles with 'A Little Help from my Friends. Here Cocker launched into a red blooded version of the song, a gutsy and feisty rendition full of crashing, clamorous drums and screeching, raucous guitars that almost seemed to assume a mind of  their own. Cocker dominated the song with aggressive vocals that bellowed out of an extraordinary mouth.

Then it was time for that soul diva Aretha Franklin, an American soul singer whom the Americans took to their hearts with her distinctive Motown air of magic. For most of the 1960s Franklin made all the right noises and never ever descended into mediocrity. Her lyrics were carefully arranged and produced and 'Spirit in the Dark, although one of her lesser known songs, still resonated clearly across the airwaves.

Franklin had always been steeped in heartfelt gospel and once again we saw her in almost triumphant mood and much closer to those gospel roots than ever before. Last night's performance showed her comfortably taking her place at the piano, tinkling the ivories and imagining perhaps that she was still that little girl in a Sunday morning church choir. For a moment she almost looked completely at ease with the world, self absorbed and moving her body to the rhythmic beat, one very happy lady.

Up next the remarkable Shirley Bassey made her grand performance. There have been few if any Welsh singers who have straddled so many generations and still sounded as good as ever. Throughout the decades Bassey has made the world of showbusiness her personal domain. In the 'Popular Voices of the the BBC, Bassey was at her irrepressible and untouchable best.

Maybe it was inevitable that the 'Goldfinger' should be the BBC's preferred choice of song for the night. Here we saw a very fitting example of one woman who just takes hold of a song and gives it her personal seal of approval. The Bassey voice was at its most expressive and richly vocal. With that familiar blur of fingers and gestures, Bassey seemed to spell out 'Goldfinger' with an almost erotic sexuality. There was something very open and expansive about her whole on stage persona. In fact there came a point when Bassey seemed to be making a bold declaration, the tips of her finger nails twisting sensuously and the eyes telling their own story.

Representing Britain again were one of the finest rock bands stepping out for another trip down memory lane. Queen are one of the most colourful rock bands Britain had ever produced during the 1970s. Queen had an unmistakable quality and identity that had to be seen to be believed. Queen had class and originality, rock stars with startling lyrics and a high level of productivity about them. Sadly the passing of Freddie Mercury denied the world of rock music its most creative force and for every 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'We Are The Champions' and 'We Will Rock You' there were the moments when it didn't always work for Mercury, Brian May and Roger Taylor.

But genius did manifest itself and last night Queen were shown at the very beginning of their glamorously successful career. 'Killer Queen' was the band's first hit, an explosive introduction into the Top 40 charts, an in your face, uncompromising rock anthem that seemed to break every radio speaker in the land. Electric guitars blasted out their message of the ages and Roger Taylor's furious and fully motivated drums were energised and ready for action.

Finally in this glittering cavalcade of soft and hard voices from another era, one female singer brought the curtain down on an enjoyable hour of song and good, old fashioned standards. There could only be one woman who moved us to so many tears and tears of happiness. To those on the outside it felt like some bittersweet conclusion to a programme charged with heartbreaking poignancy. She was the singer who died in the most tragic circumstances but was fondly revered by those who love to listen to torch songs, those beautifully layered love songs where rejection meets happy ever after and everybody sniffles into a handkerchief.

Whitney Houston became America's sweetheart of the 1980s, an often troubled soul whose very public vulnerabilities became deeply exposed in the public domain. Houston then married Bobby Brown and then it all got terribly complicated. The BBC, in their eternal wisdom, plumped for 'Saving All My Love For You' the ultimate end of party ballad that unites male and female in the last dance.

Houston, whose auntie was the equally as famous Dionne Warwicke, slumped into the deepest of dark holes and was eventually killed by a toxic combination of an abusive husband, rampant drug taking and that all enveloping spiral of self destruction. It was the most unsightly and gruesome fall from grace ever seen in Hollywood. Houston had so much love to give but then found that when she needed it most nobody within her closest circles felt capable of helping her.

If 'Popular Voices of the BBC' told us anything it did give broad brush strokes on the surface of a pop music industry at its classical best and catastrophic worst. Sometimes the voices of the great and good can often be drowned out by those whose lifestyles could only be described as less than normal. But for those who have survived the often torrid currents of showbusiness, last night's programme was a stark reminder to all of us that although you can have some of the cake you may not be able to eat it.