For a kid growing up in the 1960s, life felt electric.
The world felt limitless, and everything seemed possible.
In July 1969, the world watched as Apollo 11 landed on the moon.
What we're? Going to do right here is go
back way back back into time. In July 1969, the world watched
as Apollo 11 carried humanity into the impossible.
Commander Neil Armstrong and Lunar Module pilot Buzz Aldrin
touched down on the moon, and when Armstrong stepped onto the
lunar surface, history itself changed direction.
For the first time, the impossible became real.
Not in books, not in films, not in imagination, but in front of
our eyes. The rising, rising cost of love
it's costing. Me.
It's costing me, it's costing you, it's costing you.
It's hard to keep it like it's started.
It hurts so bad when the hurts are parted.
Heaven knows I tried to gut it. I tried hard.
Everything I sacrifice. But it don't be the rising,
rising cost of love. It's costing me.
It's costing me, costing you the rising, rising, rising, rising
cost of love lost to me. It's costing me.
It's costing you. In my mind you hold your special
place. Memories I don't care to erase.
Signs of love. And a smile on your face.
Now there's a frown in his play. The rising, rising cost of love.
It's costing me, it's costing me, it's costing you, it's
costing you. The rising, rising cost of love.
It's costing me. No way.
It's costing you.
No way. There must be something we can
do to solve this problem between me and you.
You took too long to get where we are now to let it all slip
away and not even know how. The rising, rising cost of love.
It's costing me, it's costing me, it's costing you, sugar.
The rising, rising cost of love costing me.
It's costing me. It's costing me.
It's costing you. Baby.
The cost of love is costing me. You better believe it's costing
you. It's costing you.
The rising, rising cost of love. It's costing me.
For a kid growing up in the 1960s, life felt electric, the
world felt limitless and everything seemed possible.
That belief was fuelled by American superhero comics, bold
colours, impossible powers, good versus evil and the idea that
ordinary people could become extraordinary.
America felt like the centre of imagination, innovation and myth
making. But obsessions involve, and for
me, that fascination with American superheroes was
eventually overtaken by something far deeper American
soul music. Baby, don't leave me.
If you do, you break my heart into you is my life.
If you leave, you'll take my life with you Now, baby, don't
leave me. I thought you were satisfied.
Baby don't leave me. Oh where did I grow baby?
Tell me why baby don't leave me. After all we've been through.
We did our oh and I'll die. But now you're saying what we
all do. And baby, if you leave me, I'd
be like a child without his toy. Baby, don't leave me.
You take away the life that I am gone.
I thought you were satisfied. Baby, don't leave me.
The same country that put men on the moon also gave the world
gospel harmonies, raw rhythm and Blues, civil right anthems, and
voices full of struggle, hope, heartbreak, and truth.
Where comics gave fantasy, soul music gave feeling.
And where superheroes told stories of power, soul singers
told stories of survival. And in a way, really, both did
the same thing. They made you believe in
possibility. The moon landing showed us how
far humans could go, and soul music showed us how deep humans
could feel. Two different worlds, the same
American dream, the same sense of wonder, and the same belief
that anything, absolutely anything, was possible.
Burning, burning out of control. I want to speak but can't find
the word. And you can't get by baby,
having never heard. Think about it.
And every day when you pass my way, I would try to say, hey, I
love, I love you. I love.
Can't help myself. I didn't know how to know how to
tell you that I love you. Didn't know how to tell me that
I love you. Help me baby, baby.
When you pass my way, I will try to say can't do without you.
I don't know how, I didn't know how.
You know how you tell you that I love you?
On July 16th 1969, Apollo 11 rose into the sky on top of a
Saturn 5 rocket lifting off from Kennedy Space Centre in Florida.
And in July 19, 9930, years after the moon landing, we were
lucky enough to take a family holiday to Florida.
But for me it wasn't just a holiday, it was a pilgrimage.
We went to Kennedy Space Centre and I remember the moment
clearly, walking into that vast hangar space and seeing it.
The Saturn fired rocket. Not on a screen, not in a book,
not in a documentary. But he was there.
He was real, silent, enormous. You don't understand the scale
until you stand underneath it. The sheer size, the power, the
engineering, the imagination it represents.
It doesn't feel like a machine, it felt like a monument to human
belief. I've always been fascinated by
travel, not just holidays, not just places, but movement
itself, distance journeys, exploration and the idea of
leaving the known and heading into the unknown and space.
Space has always been the ultimate version of that.
So to stand underneath the Saturn 5 rocket that carried
Apollo 11 and then to witness the recreation of the moon
landing, it was just overwhelming.
It was emotional, powerful, and really was surreal.
It felt like standing inside history, not as a spectator, but
as someone connected to it through memory, childhood,
wonder, and belief. Because as a kid in the 60s,
space wasn't science, it was magic.
And then 30 years later to the day, in 1999, standing there as
an adult, the magic came back. Tell you how I feel now.
You know what, Lovers feels deaf.
You gotta do what you gotta do. Come on and do what you gotta
do. And when you do, baby, you will
be mine. Baby, you're gonna be mine too.
Little girl. I asked you to be my girl every
day, every year. But you keep telling me you just
can't say. You just.
Oh, yeah. There is just one reason why you
have almost another. God damn.
You gotta do what you gotta do. You gotta do what you gotta do.
And when you do, when you do, when you do, when you do.
Oh, you're gonna be mine. Oh, you know I'll keep you
right? And gives you everything you
want to do, right? You everything.
Up the thing twice before running back right to him.
You gotta give him back his ring.
Tell him that it doesn't need nothing.
Yeah. You gotta do what?
The Apollo spacecraft itself was a marvel of engineering.
The command module the only part designed to return home, the
service module providing power, oxygen, water and of course the
propulsion, and the Lunar module, A fragile insect like
machine built not for Earth but for another world entirely when
they entered lunar orbit. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin
transferred into the lunar module Eagle, while Michael
Collins remained alone on the command module Columbia.
Circling the moon, Eagle descended towards the surface
and touched down into the Sea of Tranquillity, a silent, ancient
landscape untouched by time. Then came the moment the world
remembers. Armstrong stepped down the
ladder. Cameras rolled, signals crossed
space and history entered living rooms across the planet.
One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.
On July the 24th, 1969, after more than 8 days in space,
Apollo 11 returned to Earth, splashing down in the Pacific
Ocean. And for those of us growing up
in that era, watching it happen, it didn't feel like history.
It felt like the future. Keep on laughing baby, but your
smile will desert you. Your level turn to a frown when
you find love is going to put you.
So go home baby. Go home baby.
Go home, baby. Save my love.
I gave you love, but you gave your love.
Your love, your Love Is All gone.
Live but mine. Leave your step down after you
told me. Good night, good night.
After your life. When I'm quiet, go go.
Go on and laugh at me. Go laugh in this kitchen.
Yeah, it's good. Talk about me to your friend.
Now that you've deserted me. I want the food inside but
believe it will soon be right.
Go. Roll away.
Go. You better go.
Keep on moving. Now, we all have moments, and we
all have memories and places that live in our minds for
years, sometimes decades, before we even stand in them for real.
And I was lucky enough to do exactly that, to visit a place
that lived in my imagination for 30 years.
And not just to see it, but to relive it.
And you might be wondering, what is the connection?
What links child of wonder, space travel, the moon landing,
Manchester streets, American soul music and a life shaped by
sound? The answer is simple.
It's the power of music. Music connects memory.
It connects moments, connects places, connects generations,
and even connects emotion to time.
It turns history into feeling and memory into meaning.
Until the next time, bye bye. I sit here come your day
wandering. We drove you away.
Baby, Please come back to me. How much boy?
Can you see? Baby, please.
Where have you gone? Won't you please bring your
myself away? I'm not going to turn in the kit
and they won't feel good. Won't you?
Please don't believe. Can't you see I'm in it?
Tell me. Please light it wrong.
Tell me why I'm where you gone so long.
Bring the bouncer home. Bring your bouncer home.
I'm sorry I made you bleep. I didn't even hurt you.
I never thought that I would see you turn your back on me.
Please say that it's true that you didn't mean to make me blue,
that you love me like I love you, and bring it back home.
You know I love you, I love you, I love you.
I need you.