THE death of Little Richard will have saddened many music lovers who were young in the 1950s.

For he was one of the exciting and exotic stars who heralded the arrival of rock and roll. Unpredictable and athletic, Richard had a voice like a scream and there was more than a hint of sexual ambiguity in the clothes he wore. I went to see him several times in the days when you got a number of top stars on the same bill. He was electric.

One of his tricks was to put a leg on top of the piano and continue delivering his frantic fierce songs. For an encore, I saw him come back and perform a number while clutching a chair with his teeth.

All of the early rockers were American and there was feverish anticipation when Bill Haley and the Comets arrived in Britain. The Daily Mirror even chartered a train to take them from Southampton, where their liner had docked, to London. But the reality was cruelly disappointing. Haley proved to be a plumpish fellow in his thirties with a kiss curl and so unfit that he only performed a 20-minute slot.

He never had a hit again and died when in his fifties. The Australian critic and wit Clive James said he was the first rock and roll star to die of old age.

Many others did not last that long. They were always dying young, mostly in car and plane crashes. Some of them, such as the geeky looking Buddy Holly, had more hits dead than alive as he had recorded many unreleased songs.

Even the big names often had short careers. Little Richard produced all his best-known numbers within two years before finding religion and dumping all his jewels in Sydney Harbour.

I saw nearly all of them. There was Ray Charles, blind and diminutive, who had a great rasping voice, Bo Diddly performed just one song during a 12-minute spot. It had three notes and only two words which happened to be Bo Diddly.

Chuck Berry sang suggestive songs about schools and sex. They had better lyrics than most even though the tunes sounded much the same.

I never saw Elvis Presley because he did not make it to England prior to his premature death but I liked his raw early songs before he descended into slush.

Fats Domino was also missing for a long time until he conquered his fear of flying. I caught up with him later as I particularly liked his mournful ditties. He wrote most of his hits with Dave Bartholomew and for years they were in the Guinness Book of Records as the most successful songwriters in the world. An amiable man, Fats never moved far from New Orleans where he would sometimes give impromptu free concerts.

The most exciting performance I ever saw was in the unlikely setting of the Gaumont State Theatre in London. Jerry Lee Lewis, nicknamed the Killer, had married a 15-year-old girl which was perfectly legal in many American states, but not in Britain.

Opposition grew against Lewis during his tour of England. When it proved to be widespread, he had to be given police protection. On the night I saw him, a group of 20 policemen stood with their arms linked at the front of the stage to prevent any disruption.

The sight of these officers inspired Lewis to give one of his greatest performances and also roused the audience. With his blond mane of hair flapping wildly, Lewis made his songs sound supercharged and somehow all the audience knew they would not see anything else like it ever. And so it proved. Next day Lewis was told the tour could not continue and he was sent back to the States. You’d have given long odds against the Killer being the last of the great rock and rollers to survive but he has.

America had a monopoly on rock and roll until the advent of the Beatles in 1963.

Home-grown artists such as Tommy Steele and Cliff Richard lacked the chemistry to captivate a rock audience. But the Beatles were different. I realised that on going to see them and not hearing a single word because of screaming girls.

Much the same happened on seeing the Rolling Stones when they were a support act on a bill headed by the Everly Brothers.

The Stones received an ecstatic welcome while the Everly Brothers, sounding bland and anodyne, were booed.

Years later, Lewis and Chuck Berry appeared on a tour which included the Brighton Centre.

I thought about going but rejected it. I didn’t want to see a couple of ancient survivors who could never repeat the dynamic delivery of their prime. Rock stars frequently told us it would never die. But with most of its big names gone, it is gently fading into musical history.