Re-recording the Hancock's Half Hour Theme Tune by Levon Parikian

Levon Parikian studied conducting with George Hurst and Ilya Musin. He currently holds Principal Conductor posts with several London-based orchestras, and is Principal Conductor of the City of Oxford Orchestra and Artistic Director of The Rehearsal Orchestra. He is also a massive comedy fan, so when producers Ed Morrish and Neil Pearson needed a conductor, he was the first person they called…

I get a call from Ed. Ed is a BBC comedy producer, a friend of a friend.

They're recording some recently-found Hancock's Half Hour scripts, he says. And while they're at it they'd like to rerecord the theme tune. Would I be interested in conducting the recording?

I play it cool, allowing whole nanoseconds to pass before I reply.

"YesyesohgodyeshowmuchdoIpayyouwhenarewedoingitcanwedoittoday?"

I mean, honestly. What an opportunity. Radio, comedy and musical history, all rolled into one irresistible bundle. Irresistible, that is, to this comedy fan who, as a child, listened fascinated to his Hancock LP (The Blood Donor and The Radio Ham, inevitably), relishing everything: the writing, the funny, and of course the music.

The music, as any fule kno, was written by the legendary Wally Stott. Ed sends me a PDF. Even allowing for the fundamental illegibility of the manuscript, the sight of it is thrilling.

You know the music to Hancock's Half Hour, don't you? Hold on, I'll hum it for you.

Ta-ta-ta-TUM-ti-TUMMMM.

It's such an art, writing music like that. Six notes to encapsulate the character, to whet the appetite, to grab our attention when we're in the other room doing something else.

Ta-ta-ta-TUM-ti-TUMMMM. Hancock's on.

The choice of the tuba to play the famous theme is inspired. Pompous but lovable, slightly prone to mishap (apologies to tuba players). And, to get technical for just a second, the tritone (the ti-TUMMMM bit) reinforces the pratfall aspect with its comedic dissonance.

Six notes of genius.

There's just one thing.

In this original version, that opening salvo is given not just to the tuba, but to the entire brass section, in unison. A rousing fanfare that would sound more like ra-ta-ta-TAA-ti-TAAAA! It's a related animal, but of an entirely different hue, altogether more extrovert and, well, brassy.

At some point, presumably in the recording session, they changed it. Who knows whether it was Wally or the conductor Harry Rabinowitz (with whom I briefly worked as a young and overawed percussionist) who had the idea? Whoever it was, well done them.

The recording itself? Well, when you have the BBC Concert Orchestra in front of you and not much time, you do as little as possible to disturb them. Martin Knowles, the tuba player (unpompous and definitely not prone to mishap), nails it every time.

At one point in the session I turn round. Ranged behind me are producers, cast members, a couple of other people who just want to be there for this small slice of history. I think I can hear them purring.

Music can do that to you.