What's the best way to identify a first-time tourist in London?
Well, if they're not standing on the left of the escalator then surely they're wearing a Hard Rock Cafe t shirt.
The brand, which trades in serving flag-studded burgers while playing the Rolling Stones on a loop at its 172 global restaurants, can hardly be described as niche. But when its first venue was opened in Hyde Park Corner in 1971, by shaggy-haired rockers Isaac Tigrett and Peter Morton, it was a middle finger to the establishment. Americana was a fresh concept on British shores. Most people here hadn't tried a beef burger. Buckingham Palace sat just across the road, and yet here were kids in tight blues jeans knocking back Jack Daniel's as Riders on the Storm washed through the bar.
The hippest cats flocked to the Hard Rock Cafe for a bite. One of them was Eric Clapton, who decided to save his spot at the bar by hanging his red Fender above it. A week later the Hard Rock Cafe received a box with another guitar in it, and a note: "Mine's as good as his! Love, Pete." The Pete in question was Pete Townsend from The Who, and the venue's compulsion for hoarding rock 'n' roll brocante kicked into gear.
Much of this collection — including Clapton and Townsend's duelling guitars — can be seen in the main restaurant of the cafe on Old Park Lane, near Hyde Park Corner. But since 2000, the Hard Rock Cafe has also maintained a vault of memorabilia. I might use a platitude like 'hidden gem' or 'central London's best kept secret' but then again, all you have to do is stroll into the Hard Rock shop, and there in front of you is a blazing neon red sign for the Vault, literally pointing the way down to the basement. It's like one of those old Looney Tunes episodes, where the evil villain's secret lair is flagged for all to see. But I wonder how many dyed-in-the-wool Londoners have been down here before now.
Why specifically 'the Vault'? That becomes apparent about two seconds after you descend below decks: the rock 'n' roll reliquary sits behind a thunking great Chubb door studded with numerous bolts, thick as sausages. The door wasn't put here by Hard Rock, though: this building was a Coutts bank, stashing among it the coffers of the late Queen Elizabeth II. (It was right next to where she lived, after all.) Behind one of the other doors, my guide Claudio tells me, a 19-year-old Princess Diana tried on her David and Elizabeth Emanuel wedding dress. This, sadly isn't on display — although a bustier worn by Madonna* on her 1990 Blond Ambition tour is, and it's arguably just as iconic.
Fittingly, given who used to use this bank, there are also items from rock royalty Queen down here: Brian May's guitar (he actually made it, show off), and an antique chair that belonged to Freddie Mercury.
Among the bricolage — some of it donated, some hoovered up at auction — you will also find Little Richard's boots, a drum kit that belonged to Black Sabbath's Bill Ward, and a garish fur-trimmed coat worn by Elvis (he later gave it to his driver, and I wonder how many times he felt compelled to wear it so he didn't offend the king). Everywhere you look, little shards of pop culture — Slash's pinstriped suit and leather trousers from the November Rain video; the harpsichord which features on All You Need is Love — have been plucked from history and placed below the Piccadilly streets to be cooed over.
Guitars naturally make up a decent amount of the collection; axes once wielded by B.B. King, David Bowie, Judas Priest, Sting, Les Paul, Duane Allman, Jeff Beck, and Keith Richards. Connoisseurs of Strats, Rickenbackers, flying Vs, ESPs and Precision basses will no doubt find themselves prodding the guide with all sorts of technical questions, but there is something here to pique the interest of even the least rock-curious. Previous owners of the instruments have occasionally returned for a brief reunion: a framed photo of Glen Matlock posing with an acoustic sits in a vitrine-inside-a-safe nearby. It was his first ever guitar, a Christmas present from his parents many moons ago.
The Vault's not some blockbuster 'Story of Rock' experience thrumming with interactive screens and holograms, and it's all the more charming for that. This has the feel of trespassing into the basement of some wealthy muso's private collection. Curation is sparse, aside from brass plaques which tell you what you're looking at. Although some of the memorabilia is behind glass, much of it isn't. Claudio tells me that up until 10 years ago, guides would let visitors pick up and play the instruments — something which sadly (and sensibly) isn't possible now.
The more you squint, crouch and crane your neck, the more you'll discover. The original lyrics to Instant Karma, which John Lennon has scribbled amendments all over. Credit cards once belonging to Madonna and Elton John (oh for a list of items bought on THOSE). The pew-style bench and grand bedstead carved with topless maidens that were once in Jimi Hendrix's house down the road in Brook Street.
For me, the most striking thing on show is a letter from Murry Wilson, addressed to his son, Brian. The interfering father decries via his secretary that the Beach Boys are getting into 'sloppy habits', and that they 'dilly dally' on stage "... you are all in deep serious trouble," the letter goes onto warn, "and you will all have to go to work so you won't lose everything." Murry died a few years later, and the Beach Boys continued to do just fine without his input. For music fans, items like this are far more valuable than any gold bar or designer wedding dress.
Hard Rock Cafe Vault, open Friday-Monday, 1pm-9pm (although I'm told if you visit outside of these hours, staff will do their best to let show you around), free
*Madonna's outfit aside, the Vault is admittedly a bit of a sausage fest, although in all, Hard Rock has some 87,000-and-counting objects, including stuff from Rihanna, Britney, Camila Cabello and Katy Perry.
