Introduction:

CLIFF RICHARD & HANK MARVIN REUNITE IN PERTH — “THE YOUNG ONES” SHINE AGAIN ON THE “CAN’T STOP ME NOW” TOUR

It was a night that felt like history reborn. On November 1, 2025, the stage of Perth’s Riverside Theatre became a time capsule of British rock ’n’ roll magic as Sir Cliff Richard and legendary guitarist Hank Marvin reunited during the Can’t Stop Me Now world tour. Fans who had waited decades to see the two icons perform together were treated to an unforgettable evening — one that bridged six decades of friendship, music, and pure stage charisma.

The moment the lights dimmed and the first chords of “Move It” rang out, the crowd knew they were in for something extraordinary. Backed by a full band and surrounded by dazzling visuals, Cliff strode onto the stage in immaculate form — energetic, confident, and effortlessly charming at 85. But when Hank Marvin joined him mid-set,  guitar in hand, the audience erupted in applause that shook the hall.

Together they launched into “The Young Ones”, their timeless 1961 hit that still sounds as fresh and joyous as it did more than sixty years ago. Hank’s signature twang cut clean through the mix, while Cliff’s smooth vocals brought waves of nostalgia over the sea of fans singing along. Couples danced in the aisles; longtime followers wiped away tears. For many, it was the kind of musical reunion they thought they might never witness again.

The Shadows guitarist Hank Marvin on being a father and new album | Express.co.uk

Cliff paused between songs to reflect on their shared journey:

“It’s been a lifetime of songs, memories, and friendship. Hank and I started this adventure when we were just boys — and look at us now, still up here making noise!”

The setlist read like a greatest-hits collection — “Living Doll,” “Summer Holiday,” “Bachelor Boy,” “Dreamin’,” and a powerful rendition of “Mistletoe and Wine.” The production combined vintage film clips with state-of-the-art lighting and video design, seamlessly blending nostalgia with a modern concert experience.

The chemistry between Cliff and Hank was unmistakable — playful, easy, and full of mutual respect. Every smile, every shared glance, reminded the audience of the bond that helped define British pop in the late 1950s and 1960s. As Cliff once famously said, “Before The Beatles, there was The Shadows.” And in Perth, that truth felt alive again.

Cliff Richard Hank Marvin Editorial Stock Photo - Stock Image | Shutterstock Editorial

The Can’t Stop Me Now tour marks one of the most ambitious undertakings of Cliff Richard’s late career, covering the UK, Europe, Australia, and New Zealand. Each show celebrates his remarkable 66 years in music — from rock ’n’ roll pioneer to enduring national treasure. Perth’s performance, however, stood out for its emotional resonance: seeing Hank Marvin back beside his lifelong friend gave the concert a rare sense of completion, a full-circle moment for both artists and their fans.

As the final chords of “Congratulations” filled the theatre, the crowd rose for a thunderous standing ovation that lasted several minutes. Cliff waved, Hank gave a humble bow, and together they left the stage arm-in-arm to the refrain of “We’re the young ones — and we always will be.”

For everyone in attendance, it wasn’t just a concert — it was a living chapter of music history. Cliff Richard and Hank Marvin reminded the world that while years may pass, true legends never fade.

Video:

 

You Missed

Born on October 1, 1929, she was far more than Buck Owens’s former wife — she was the steady presence who anchored Merle Haggard when his world threatened to unravel. Long before the spotlight fully claimed him, Merle was still fighting his way out of a troubled past that clung to him like dust from the road. The fame, the accolades, the roaring crowds — none of it erased the shadows he carried. Bonnie Owens saw every part of him: the flashes of anger, the quiet fear, the raw, untamed talent that burned bright but fragile. Where others might have stepped back, she leaned in. As Merle battled wounds he seldom put into words, Bonnie worked with patient resolve beside him. She helped refine the music that would ultimately define an era — songs like “Today I Started Loving You Again” and “Just Between the Two of Us.” Her influence was not loud or theatrical; it was deliberate and deeply woven into the craft. She understood how to translate his unspoken emotions into lyrics that resonated far beyond the studio walls. History remembers the unmistakable voice and the outlaw legend. Audiences recall the grit, the conviction, the poetry of a man who seemed to sing straight from his scars. But behind that weathered baritone stood a woman shaping chaos into composition. Bonnie smoothed the rough edges, helping transform private pain into melodies that millions could feel. The world applauded the icon. Yet behind the gravel and the glory was a collaborator who quietly turned hidden fractures into harmony — ensuring that what might have remained broken instead became timeless music.

THE LAST TIME THE CROWD ROSE FOR MERLE HAGGARD — HE WOULD NEVER WALK ONSTAGE AGAIN. They carried him through the doors wrapped in the very flag he once sang about — and in the stillness that followed, there was something almost audible… a fragile echo only lifelong listeners could feel in their bones. Merle Haggard’s story closed the same way it opened: unpolished, honest, and deeply human. From being born in a converted boxcar during the Great Depression to commanding the grandest stages across America, his life unfolded like a country ballad etched in grit, regret, resilience, and redemption. Every lyric he sang carried the weight of lived experience — prison walls, hard roads, blue-collar truths, and hard-earned second chances. Those who stood beside his casket said the atmosphere felt thick, as if the room itself refused to forget the sound of his voice. It wasn’t just grief in the air — it was reverence. A stillness reserved for someone whose music had become stitched into the fabric of ordinary lives. One of his sons leaned close and murmured, “He didn’t really leave us. He’s just playing somewhere higher.” And perhaps that’s the only explanation that makes sense. Because artists like Merle don’t simply vanish. They transform. They become the crackle of an AM radio drifting through a late-night highway. They become the soundtrack of worn leather seats and long stretches of open road. They live in jukebox corners, in dance halls, in quiet kitchens where memories linger longer than the coffee. Somewhere tonight, a trucker tunes in to an old melody. Somewhere, an aging cowboy lowers his hat and blinks back tears. And somewhere in that gentle hum of steel guitar and sorrow, a whisper carries through: “Merle’s home.”