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Liberace and Dorothy Malone in the Warner Bros film “Sincerely Yours” (Gordon Douglas, 1955), a remake of “The Man Who Played God aka The Silent Voice” (John G. Adolfi, 1932) starring George Arliss & Bette Davis
Poster art by Italian artist Luigi Martinati (1893 - 1983).

THOSE who can take Liberace—and there seem to be quite a few, to judge by the swarm of beaming matrons who showed up yesterday morning at the Paramount—will find the pianist in top oleaginous form in his first screen starring vehicle, Warner Brothers' "Sincerely Yours."
As a popular concert performer whose career is suddenly brought to a horrible halt when—like Ludwig van Beethoven before him—he finds he can no longer hear, Liberace spends an hour and fifty minutes oozing dimpled sincerity from the screen, frequently skimming the glistening keyboard and bestowing his smile like a kiss. Amiableness toward all and sundry lows out of him in waves. A man of such sweet and generous nature hasn't been seen on the screen in years.
Even in his darkest period of deafness and despair he is able to think of others and do good unto them. From the terrace of his elegant penthouse, he reads through field-glasses the lips of unhappy people down in Central Park.
One is a piteous Irish mother whose pretty daughter won't take her to meet the swanky parents of the socially prominent young man whom the daughter has wed. Liberace—or Anthony Warrin, as he is handsomely called in this film -buys the mother a stunning evening outfit and puts her on special display at a charity hall where the in-laws of the daughter are doing a dignified parade.
Sure enough, with a dash of "Beer-Barrel Polka" and a little flip of Chopin, Liberace brings the parents together. When the picture comes to an end, they are bawling "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and the good man is beaming upon them.
Another of his benefactions is to a little crippled boy, upon whom he bestows an operation, a football helmet and a few bars of "Cheer, Cheer for Old Notre Dame." And he also frees his fiancee, Dorothy Malone, from her promise to marry him when he discovers through his field-glasses that she loves another man.
No one can say that Liberace—or Anthony Warrin—is not sincere.
But one can delicately hint that the good fellow is nobody's Barrymore. When he wears his black-sequined dinner jacket, he hits the peak of his acting skill. William Demarest as his manager and Joanne Dru as the loyal secretary he finally weds—when he recovers from his deafness—are great by comparison.
However, the audience yesterday morning hung upon the star's every word and applauded virtually every piano number, of which there are dozens. That's real sincere!
SINCERELY YOURS, screen play by Irving Wallace; directed by Gordon Douglas; produced by Henry Blanke; an International Artists, Ltd., Production, presented by Warner Brothers. At the Paramount.
Anthony Warrin . . . . . Liberace
Marion Moore . . . . . Joanne Dru
Linda Curtis . . . . . Dorothy Malone
Howard Ferguson . . . . . Alex Nicol
Sam Dunne . . . . . William Demarest
Sarah Cosgrove . . . . . Lori Nelson
Mrs. McGinley . . . . . Lurene Tuttle
Alvie Hunt . . . . . Richard Eyer
Grandfather Hunt . . . . . James Bell
J. R. Aldrich . . . . . Herbert Heyes
Dr. Eubank . . . . . Edward Platt
Dick Cosgrove . . . . . Guy Williams
Mr. Rojeck . . . . . Ian Wolfe
Zwolinski . . . . . Otto Waldis
Mrs. Cosgrove . . . . . Barbara Brown

BOSLEY CROWTHER New York Times 3 November 1955


LIBERACE, FLAMBOYANT PIANIST, IS DEAD

Liberace, whose glitzy costumes, giant candelabra and extravagant showmanship made him almost as famous as his piano playing, died yesterday at his home in Palm Springs, Calif. He was 67 years old. His spokesman in New York, Denise Collier, said the cause of death was cardiac arrest due to congestive heart failure brought on by subacute encephalopathy. Encephalopathy is a degenerative disease of the brain. A contributing cause was aplastic anemia, Ms. Collier said.
Throughout Liberace's long and lucrative career - his income averaged $5 million a year for more than 25 years - it was hard to make fun of him because he seemed to have so much fun making fun of himself. With his megawatt smile, his furry, feathery costumes, rhinestones as big as the Ritz, piano-shaped rings and a unique blend of Beethoven and the ''Beer Barrel Polka,'' Liberace charmed millions with a flashiness that was almost too much to be believed.
But a Liberace performance was not all baubles, bangles and bright beads. Unbowed by years of critical scorn and 175-pound fur capes, he worked hard. During a typical show he was on the stage for more than two hours with only short breaks for costume changes.
His audiences loved what he called ''Reader's Digest versions'' of familiar melodies. Liberace whipped through Chopin's ''Minute Waltz'' in 37 seconds and Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1, which usually fills both sides of a long-pl

Mike Pickering of M People talks in depth about his own musical and DJ background, the many bands he has been in or involved with, his time with M People and also confesses that the vocals for 'Ride On Time' by Black Box are actually sung by... Heather Small!

This interview is taken from the DeConstruction Records website:

What was the first music you got into?
The first music that got me really excited was I suppose aged 15, 16 was Motown and Stax soul, Invictus, all those American R&B labels.

Were you aware of these records being part of a scene?
Yeah, cos a really really close friend and neighbour Jean Sacks married Phil Sacks, who later on managed the Mondays and succeeded me at Factory. He was a DJ at the Twisted Wheel, so I couldn't go, but I was very aware of the Northern Soul scene. He introduced me to the snobbery of Northern Soul, right? Covering your records up with tape so no-one could see what they were and the secrecy of it all.

When did you start going out?
For me it was the Highland Room at Blackpool Mecca

When would that have been? Were you wearing terrible clothes?!
It'd be about early 70's, we were skinhead/suedeheads, so we wore Crombies and Ben Shermans and the two tone pants and royals, and red socks. I still wear it now, yeah!

And then Punk happened...
Just before Punk, David Bowie and then through Bowie, Lou Reed and Iggy and The Stooges, I kind of discovered all that through Bowie. And that really was the first white music I got into, I was almost racist about music, you know. And that was the first white music that I ever listened to, but then in 1977 or late 76, when punk happened, that completely changed me.

Did you go to the legendary Lesser Free Trade Hall gig?
No I went to see the Pistols at the Electric Circus though, straight away after, but to be honest I liked the Pistols, but they weren't the epicentre of my punk scene, Spiral Scratch by Buzzcocks was what did it for me, just like 2 and half, 3 minute songs with great melodies which was I suppose was akin to northern soul. It was that really that I loved.

What did you do for a job at this time?
Er well I spent quite a long time out of work as lots of people did then, and I got sent on a Tops course, it was re-training but they trained me to be a chef

Really?
Yeah it was great, in the CIS building in Manchester, but I was just so into music at the time, I was lead singer and manager of this kind of new wave punk band called Fireplace

Did you release any records?
Here's a thing, we released one record on Band On The Wall Manchester Musicians Collective album but I weren't on it! I'd fallen out with them already, about two days before... over a girl as well! So I told them to go **** themselves and didn't do it! Actually I'm glad I didn't because it's not stood the test of time.

It must have been around this time you met Rob Gretton?
Well I just hung out everywhere, but years before I'd met Rob through City, we actually got chased by a load of Forest skinheads at Forest away and it was a long journey through the back of a pub, with snarling Alsations, over a wall, we ended up laying in a garden and you could see the doc martin boots really near us, and he went, "I'm Rob Gretton from Wythenshawe" and I went "I'm Mike Pickering from Stockport" and so we always used to go away on the football special together and got really friendly with him, and then he started managing Warsaw so I was kind of there from the beginning really.

What was your role?
Well I was just Rob's mate. No-one had specific jobs, you know what I mean, if the van needed loading, it needed loading... but then what happened was I went to live in Holland, I think in 1979, I got fed up with everything and just went, you know. In Rotterdam I met these guys who squatted in an old waterworks like a big tower, and there was a big hall attached. They went, "if you lads want you can open this hall and do what you want" so we cleared it all out, someone built a stage, got a generator and we started putting on nights where I was DJ'ing. It was kind of very much against the trend, because everything was punk and rock in those days and I was playing Chic and lots of US disco, you know, Crown Heights Affair and that.

I was also using my connections in England to put gigs on, so I had like Human League, the first gig after they split with Heaven 17, Factory nights, A Certain Ratio, Dirty Column and Section 25, but I also put on the second New Order gig after Ian died, because Rob said I want to do some gigs out of England, and when he saw what we'd done, he said, I'm opening a club at home. I want you to come home.

Were you with New Order/ Rob in the states when they were inspired to open the Hac?
Well that was just after. I think they'd been once, but I hadn't been. When we came back, they'd just bought the space which was an old yacht salesroom and part of the deal of me coming home was, cause I'd st