The money-obsessed piano showman mixes the glam with the ham on stage at Wembley with the London Philharmonic
Sequins sparkled, electric bulbs on the candelabra twinkled like ships at night; spotlights made the orchestra blush red for de Falla, blue for Debussy; and a BBC TV camera darted forward for close-ups of the world's most lucrative fingers. Liberace wore four different – what is the right word: ensembles, outfits, frocks? – and repeated all his best-known – jokes, gags, chestnuts? "I cried all the way to the bank" (which placed him in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations) was revised: "Remember that bank? I bought it!"
In the 50s, a throng of policemen would have been needed to control the fans at a packed London Palladium or Albert Hall. Last week, at the age of 63, Liberace was to be found in the concrete conference hall beside Wembley stadium, with four concerts in two days, but poor houses for all of them, although he had not played in London for two years. However, he is probably crying over the world television and video rights, and also over the fact that he has finally made his debut with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, which sat there as merrily as undertakers, their bows resting like bayonets during the solos.
I bet myself a fiver that the glossy programme (price £1) would not contain the name of a single composer. I won. Liberace introduced his medleys with the occasional hint, such as "Show Pan".
It is sometimes said that if you took the clothes off Liberace and made him practice, he'd be a really good player. I doubt the likelihood, as well as the desirability, of this; but for reasons of style, not technique. There are certain kinds of pianism – flashy four-note runs and twiddles – he does with astonishing aplomb; and if his fingers were relieved of several ounces of rings (which must feel like jogging with a suitcase), he could probably flit round Show Pan's Minute Waltz quite smoothly.
But his bright, clattery style (exaggerated by a Baldwin piano amplified in this dry hall) has nothing in common with the thoughtful, coloured playing of a classical pianist. He was at his best in an improvisation on popular songs requested by the audience; describing this solo number as his "London Concerto" made the LPO look more boot-faced than ever, but perhaps that was partly because they had heard him "improvise" it before.
Liberace's medleys are usually accompanied by a 20-piece orchestra; the same arrangements played by the LPO sounded odd: a soft string effect became a counterpoint; and with the piano amplified, but the orchestra not, the balance was like a frolicsome puppy playing on a duvet.
But the clothes, my dears. The clothes! "So long as you enjoy seeing them, I enjoy wearing them," he purred. And enjoy we did: virginal white with silver and lace ruffles, like Las Vegas's answer to the Rosenkavalier. Then a balletic creation in old gold, a Spanish display of black and pink, and finally a sober black creation with diamond buttons that threatened to do him injury. A galaxy of fantastic cloaks led into the farewell repartee. "I've had such a marvellous time tonight. I'm ashamed to take the money."
This is an edited extract