The Times, 05 December 2021

ED BALLS, UKELE MAESTRO: ‘BIG MEN DO PLAY LITTLE INSTRUMENTS’

Dads are supposed to be embarrassing. My kids are clear that they think I have overachieved: waltzing on Strictly, wrestling in a Union Jack leotard for a documentary, singing backing vocals with Little Mix for Comic Relief. They have a point.

But it was a different post-politics gig that won their unanimous approval: playing the ukulele at the Royal Albert Hall, with 40 members of the George Formby Society, to celebrate the Queen’s 92nd birthday. As my daughter said at the time: “It’s actually slightly cool.”

Quite why the BBC chose me — a banjo novice — to join the comedians and veteran strummers Frank Skinner and Harry Hill that night remains a mystery. Like most bigger men, I’ve never been a big fan of little chairs, little cars or little dogs, and I initially felt the same way about little guitars. With just a fortnight to learn the instrument from scratch, it was a daunting prospect.

But, unknown to me at the time, I was joining a new youth craze. Not only has the ukulele taken over from the guitar and recorder as the instrument of choice for children to learn in school, I’m told it’s fashionable to carry a small guitar case and be ready to strum in the classroom, on the bus or at a festival, alone or ensemble.

My two-week crash course showed why. Ukuleles are relatively cheap, as little as £20, easily portable and the fret work — pressing the strings — is much easier than on a guitar. I played the violin from the age of eight to 21 in orchestras and chamber groups without ever enjoying playing solo.

Unlike that instrument, the ukulele is easy on the ear as soon as you pick it up (as long as it’s tuned properly). As my oldest daughter, a ukulele player herself, explained: if after just a week you can play Somewhere Over the Rainbow, that’s really chill.

I didn’t start with Judy Garland, however. Formby was our inspiration — a film star of the 1930s and 1940s, with a decidedly un-cool style, winning smile and seemingly magic ability to win over the most beautiful girls simply by whipping out his diminutive instrument.

The secret, my teacher, Gerry Mawdsley, who was then the president of the George Formby Society, told me, is in the wrist action. I can confirm that George’s fast and uniquely syncopated strumming style takes more than two lessons to master.

Meeting Frank and Harry and the crew for our one and only rehearsal, I discovered the other great advantage of the ukulele, or the hybrid banjolele I played at the concert.

I’ve been learning the piano for ten years and still, whether in the exam room or at a charity concert, the deathly hush before I play makes my hands shake with fear. No risk of that with our ukulele “thrash”. My fellow strummers played so loud that my idiosyncrasies were lost in the melée. So long as I kept smiling, I knew it would be fine. Just like Strictly, really.

That Royal Albert Hall concert was memorable in so many ways. Not least because backstage, as we waited to perform, I trod on Kylie Minogue’s hem as she talked to Sting. Then at the end of the evening, Frank, Harry and I stood with the royal party in the wings.

When I was education secretary, I had met the Queen and the Prince of Wales many times, though not while clutching a banjo. Charles turned to me, chuckled, and said: “What on earth are you doing here?” I didn’t have an adequate answer.

The Queen was smiling too, telling me how our Formby tribute had triggered childhood memories. When we got our cue to prepare to go back onto the big stage, poor Frank hadn’t noticed who was behind him, and got the shock of his life when the Queen turned and shouted: “Come on, Frank!” I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.

But the highlight was performing that smutty Formby classic When I’m Cleaning Windows. As I strummed, I wished I’d had the chance to start learning when I was at school.

I’ve had no bookings since, but I am available. Just give me a couple of weeks’ notice.

Ed Balls’s new book, Appetite: A Memoir in Recipes of Family and Food, is published by Simon & Schuster