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shaggy blog stories · shared items · twitter · village blog · you're not the only one Friday, February 29, 2008
Which Decade Is Tops For Pops? - Year 6 - the Number 1s.
Click here to view all the Which Decade entries on one page.
Gosh, is it that time already? Whereas most previous Which Decades have, barring the initial head-rush of Year One, unfolded over a relatively leisurely three weeks or so, I haven't half been banging them out this year. (There's a reason for that: namely four gigs on four consecutive nights next week, AND an interview to write up, AND a 1200-word article for... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. But if I don't get this post up by tonight, there simply aren't going to be enough hours in the day.) In terms of the daily decade-by-decade league tables, this year has been almost entirely free of drama. The 1980s, 1990s and 2000s have been fixed in their respective positions, while the only real action has occurred at the top of the league, with the 1960s and 1970s frequently swapping places or else drawing level with each other. Nevertheless, and with just one more round to go, the pole position is still very much up for grabs. There are some extremely close border skirmishes lower down the league, and the three closest (Lighthouse Family vs The Feeling, Usher vs Kelly Rowland, Robbie Williams vs Rihanna, none more than two points apart) are all battles between the same two decades. Add that to the current one-point gap between Nickelback and the Ofarims, and you can see that the 2000s are still capable of snatching victory, for the first year ever. Have I got you all worked up again, then? Because after those last two rounds, our collective spirits could do with some reviving. Once more into the breach we go, brave soldiers! It's Friday night, it's Top Of The Pops... it's the Number Ones! 1968: Mighty Quinn - Manfred Mann. (video) 1978: Take A Chance On Me - Abba. (video) 1988: I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue. (video) 1998: Doctor Jones - Aqua. (video) 2008: Mercy - Duffy. (video) Listen to a short medley of all five songs. ![]() "Yeah, but he's an eskimo, right? And where do eskimos live? In igloos! And what are igloos made of? Snow! And what does snow look like, eh? Eh? Eh? You're a man of the the world, squire! Say no more, say no more!" To which I say, look at the third verse, Tedious Throwback Drugs Bore: "Nobody can get no sleep, there's someone on everyone's toes, but when Quinn the Eskimo gets here, everybody's gonna wanna doze." Must be pretty shite charlie, then. I rest my case. Oh yes, the Manfred Mann version. (Stripped of its parentheses and its definite article, Fact Fans. These things matter.) The Manfreds had a bit of a "thing" for covering Dylan songs, having already scored Top Ten hits with versions of If You Gotta Go, Go Now and Just Like A Woman. Never having heard Dylan's 1967 Basement Tapes original, I find myself quite unable to imagine what it might sound like - and indeed, I would never have guessed from the typically strident, straight-up, boom-thwack 1968 arrangement that this was even one of his compositions. Having subtracted its attendant - and considerable - nostalgic pull, I also find myself wondering how it ever came to top the charts. It's pleasant, it's curious... but, you know, what the f**k was going on here? He's an eskimo! Who cares? ![]() As a love-struck teen with the most massive, all-consuming, and needless to say unrequited boy-on-boy crush on a fellow school mate (who still hasn't shown up on Friends Reunited, and yes, I do still check from time to time), I found a considerable personal resonance within Take A Chance On Me - as indeed I did with just about every song on the radio for the full three years that we were at school together, up to and including Don't Cry For Me Argentina, and believe me, that takes some doing. Listening to it again this morning, I had to smirk at lines such as "If you're all alone when the pretty birds have flown, honey I'm still free, take a chance on me", which cast me as some sort of lovelorn Mr. Humphries Junior - but we didn't have much in the way of role models in 1978. (OK, Tom Robinson - but I never really thought of him as gay in a fancying-blokes sort of way, just in an abstracted fist-punching badge-wearing way. I'm rambling, aren't I? It's been a long day.) Incidentally, those of you watching the video should pay close attention to Agnetha's small but significant pout at around the 2:17 mark, as this was the moment that totally slaughtered the lads in the school TV room on Thursday nights, just after supper and just before prep. I can still remember the anticipation ("Wait for it, wait for it!") and the almost post-coital sigh which followed ("She just looks so... easy, you know what I mean?") Hey, they didn't get out much. At least my source material was closer to hand. (And I mean that entirely metaphorically.) By way of introducing our third Number One, I can do no better than to quote SwissToni's and Z's comments on When Will I Be Famous: Have I really wasted 20 years of my life hating this record? Listening to it now, it all seems so...so... innocuous. How could I have expended so much passion loathing something that is ultimately this harmless? I was too old for this back in 1988. Now, I'm not. Because, you see, back in the days when Soap Starlet Kylie Minogue had yet to morph into SexKylie, DanceKylie, IndieKylie, PopKylie, SexKylie2.0 and BraveKylie, SnottyLittleHipsterMike was as yet allergic to her charms. ![]() Well, look. If you'd told us at the time that Kylie's pop career would still be going strong twenty years later, with the artist elevated to the position of Much Loved National Treasure, we'd never have believed you. Besides which - and I know she's never claimed to be the world's greatest singer, but still - this has to be one of the most lacklustre vocal performances on any UK Number One ever. Sorry, Kylie. Luvyaloads, you know that. And I also love the good grace with which you've worn this particular albatross: reciting it straight-faced at a highbrow poetry festival in the 1990s, reworking it as Ibiza trance on your 2002 tour, and most recently, with that deliciously slinky Jessica Rabbit cocktail lounge version, on Jools Holland's New Year's Eve show. Never was a turd more ably polished, I'll grant you that. But you know, and I know, that I Should Be So Lucky is still... well... a bit shit, really. ![]() Oh, the new crop of snotty little hipsters hated it with a passion, of course. At the end of 1997, when Muzik magazine polled its best known DJs for their end of year round up, almost every single one of them named Aqua's Barbie Girl as the worst single of the year - whereas, as I'm sure we've all come to realise, it was nothing less than Total Pop Genius. (I think the penny first dropped with the Goodness Gracious Me parody, Punjabi Girl.) And while Doctor Jones might not scale the same Olympian heights, it sure as hell comes close. ![]() Actually, and before we go any further, shall we put all this New Amy Winehouse conspiracy theory nonsense to bed? For lest we forget, Amy only went stratospherically massive a few months ago, whereas Adele and Duffy have been in "artist development" for considerably longer than that. The time lines simply don't fit. So let us hear no more about it. I haven't yet made my mind up about Duffy, whom I'll be seeing at The Social in exactly a week's time (and what's she even doing playing such a tiny venue when she's at Number One, anyway - so much for the carefully plotted Evil Masterplan). I heard a few selections from the new album earlier in the week and liked them - but having heard the full album this evening in a single sitting, I find that her voice grates badly after half a dozen numbers. Then again, as Tina said last to me last night, "She's more Lulu than Dusty" (although Chig and I think she's more Carmel than Lulu - follow these links and you'll see what we mean) - and if you downgrade your expectations accordingly, then numbers like Mercy become a whole lot more palatable. For when all's said and done, and despite my increasing aversion to retro-ism in 2000s pop (hell, anyone would think they were chasing the Fifty Quid Bloke market!), I really like Mercy, even somewhat despite myself. I've been earworming it literally all day, and it hasn't yet driven me bonkers, so that alone is a good sign - and hell, it's just good plain, tongue-in-cheek, gently chiding, finger-wagging FUN. With the added bonus of some totally hot Mod boys dancing on their own in the video, which can only help... My votes: Abba - 5 points. Duffy - 4 points. Aqua - 3 points. Manfred Mann - 2 points. Kylie - 1 point. Over to you, for the last time. This is the Big One, folks. I'll keep the voting open, for all selections, until midnight on Monday night. Have a great weekend! Sorry for rambling! I'm outta here! Running totals so far - Number 1s. 1978: Take A Chance On Me - Abba (155) Like an express train to the heart. Almost too perfect. (betty) There isn't a single phrase of praise about this group or song I can think of that hasn't already been said. (asta) There is no chance of objectivity or shocking revisionism when it comes to me and Abba. This record's genius is so easy to love because its art seems so carefree - which is never to be confused with "careless." The sudden explosion of frank emotionalism from the general subtly tantalising vocal delivery on Frida's part ("'cos you know I've GOT...") are the difference between living and existing and the thought of Agnetha and Frida amiably and simultaneously winking with their "I ain't gonna let ya" and "soon I'm gonna get ya" inspire thoughts in me which are inappropriate for a blog family audience. (Marcello Carlin) The girls are singing the words that the boys want to hear, but it seems clear that these are boy's words, of vulnerability and patience and longing, the pitiful cajoling of the spurned. When she finally realises she's made a mistake, he'll have moved on to an inferior version and he'll be too polite to abandon her. I hear missed opportunities and unhappy relationships. With a disco beat. Probably the best song of the fifty. (imsodave) I remember noting at the time that it was the best thing they’d ever done in my opinion, and although nowadays I’d give that palm to “Winner Takes It All”, this is still up there. (Remember a song called “I’m A Train” by Albert Hammond, father of one of The Strokes? – it sounds like Benny and Bjorn did.) The video shows that Agnetha is no great shakes as a dancer, but as I’ve said before in Another Place, was there ever a woman more beautiful than she was in the late 70s? (Easy? – who did your schoolmates think they were?!!) (Erithian) Yadda yadda yadda classic. I was surprised how 2008 their clothes look! Of the fifty songs there are only ten I would wish to hear again, and only Abba would be in contention for my Top One Hundred (but even then it's not my favourite Abba song!) (Gert) Used to hate Abba, but there's a great craftmanship behind its arrangement. (Simon) Total closet Abba head. Will watch Muriel's Wedding repeatedly for the soundtrack and to hear Toni Colette say ABBA in that twisted Australian way she has. (jo) No searing critique from me (so what's new). My very first musical memory is Abba winning the Eurovision song contest, and the first album that was bought for me was Abba's Greatest Hits vol 1. I'll always have a huge soft spot for them. Have they ever won a God-like genius award? (Sarah) I played Take a Chance on Me two nights ago as I DJed for a friend's 30th (this being the number one when he was born). And, as a peek at my last.fm profile implies, the Swedes can get five points from me without breaking a sweat. (Will) Despite being the Abba song that always reminds me most of French and Saunders' spoof it really is rather good. (NiC) Despite rediscovering Abba slightly before the rest of the world in the early 90s, they've fallen from favour of late. I think it's time for me to re-rediscover them. (Adrian) 3 pts. Seems unkind to rate it in midfield but, well crafted as the arrangement is, it's by no means one of their better songs. (Z) Abba have pretty much always left me entirely cold, but as I've got older I've come to appreciate their clinical pop genius. It's alright, but it still doesn't get me up and dancing. And I loathe Dancing Queen too. Sorry. I must be missing the Abba gene. Even I can't deny that this is clearly the classiest thing here though. (SwissToni) Having moved from Bowie/Mott/Alice Cooper onto punk and metal, I was immune to Abba at the time and legally obliged to hate them. I think this gives the more mature me a far more objective view on them that most people who are viewing them through rosy nostalgia tinted spectacles, and I can recognise them for what they really were, which is a very average pop band with a few good tunes who lucked into capturing the zeitgeist of the times. This song is not unpleasant, but really a bit bland and dull, and that's as much as I can say for it. (Alan) 2008: Mercy - Duffy (113) I love her voice and I enjoyed the song. It's a whole lot more classy than most chart-toppers are nowadays. (Z) I think in time this will turn out to be a classic. My sort of music. (Tina) Sorry. I. Love. Duffy. The voice, the retro vibe, the Dusty feel. The 60's girl group sound. I. Can't. Help. It. Tom Jones, Sterophonics, Shirley Bassey, Cerys Mathews, Bonnie Tyler...maybe I just like Welsh voices. (jo) Damned original stuff, and one of the few modern number 1s we're still going to remember in ten years time. (diamond geezer) This one is simply the best Number 1 for a long while, and good luck to her. Incidentally, when the New Amys (or rather the Channelling Dustys) have big hits I get a bit indignant on behalf of Candie Payne, whose voice is up there with theirs and whose songs have the edge, but who hasn’t had quite the promotional push. (Mike, I saw Carmel live back in the 80s and she was terrific.) (Erithian) I wasn't sure about Duffy, but this track made me think that perhaps there is something in the hype. And whenever I've seen her perform live she's been amazing. (Oliver R) I definitely like this. Lulu vocals, yes, but then in the background it's referencing Ben E King and The Doors, and putting all that together somehow it works fantastically well. (Alan) This is a great song and given most other competition would be flying high at the top of my list. I'd never seen the video before though. What's with the flame-grilled dancer? (Sarah) No she's not the next Amy. Amy's a better lyricist, and sings from the core of the genre. This song is from the 60s song book of R&B catch phrases. It's like somebody loaded up her Ipod with Ann Sexton, Peebles and Sharon Jones and said," write me a song from that". I see your Carmel and raise you a Marianne Rosenberg. But don't think I don't like this. I think it's terrific, in it's way. (asta) I think she's more straight retro and less original than Amy and the arrangement is indeed a bit tame (more Lulu?) but it's still pretty good. (NiC) It's not quite the authentic, dusty fingered soul classic that it purports to be, and it's not even as good as Rockferry, but it's solid and catchy and danceably laid-back. I'm surprised how nasal she sounds on this though. She's hardly Mahalia Jackson, is she? (imsodave) Heard this on a radio in a doctor's waiting room last week without knowing what it was and was surprised to find I didn't mind it as much as I thought I did (or maybe that was because of all the Century 106 schlock around it). Straight up revision without progression, of course, but tellingly not produced by the terrible joy-sucking Bernard Butler but by someone who appears to have done nothing of note past album tracks for Natalie Imbruglia and Heather Small before this but appears to understand that instantaneousness was the key to great soul. (Simon) Good, high quality work. Inventive, but I don't think it carries it all the way to the finishing line. (Simon C) Hmm. A large part of me wants to cry out that this is simply trying too hard; that the song is too retro and ultimately too repetitive.... but I simply can't deny the power of that voice and the fact that this song has got hooks. I'm sure she'll get better material than this in her career, but this will probably do for starters. The Social is going to be a great place to see her, that's for sure. (SwissToni) Looking forward to seeing her. The B side of the 7" suggests that there is a genuine soul girl there (and she's 22 for crissake - at 22 you think you've seen everything, and certainly have a right to sing the blues) I could listen to this more often than Kylie or Abba but it's not that memorable. (Dymbel) There are hints of Motown in this. If I didn't know they were in order, I'd suspect it was the 60s track. It's reasonable enough, but not a classic by any stretch of the imagination. (Adrian) I was feeling rather pleased about the fact that I'd realised that she was the new Carmel, and was going to drop that into the comment in a very smug and self satisfied way, only to find out that other people have got there instead. Harumph. Perhaps they should do a duet, compare bleached hair and black shift dresses, that sort of thing. This single isn't quite as bad as I would have expected after her appearance on Later last year. At least she didn't go to the Brits School. (betty) The introductory Stand By Me meets Human Behaviour bedrock motif promises little and yes it sounds moderately enhancing, if not enchanting, but it sounds spliced together by committee and Duffy really needs to do some more living before we can begin to believe (in) her. That is, if her management will allow her to live. (Actually, the Duffy riff is "Time Of The Season" innit? Paging Mr Argent...) (Marcello Carlin) The Duffy album is such a mixed bag. I first heard a 5 track sampler, which sounded pretty decent - but it now seems as though all the best songs were on it. "Warwick Avenue" is an attractive piece of work, which might make a good follow-up single, but then we have tedious non-songs like the one where tells us, over and over and over again, that she doesn't want to be a stepping stone. And bearing in mind his asset-stripping reductio ad tedium job on the third Sons & Daughters album, having Bernard Butler as your closest collaborator is nothing to shout about, either. (mike) The Lambrettas to Amy Winehouse's Jam. (Nottingham's 'Mr Sex') This is getting more and more play on Heart. It'll soon be played more than Valerie. Duffy will replace Sam Brown when she's kicked out of Jools Holland's big band in a few years. (Geoff) Her voice really grates after half a dozen seconds. I ought to like this a helluva lot more, considering the classy support of inter alia McAlmont and Butler. I'd just rather it was David McAlmont on vocals. (Gert) 1968: The Mighty Quinn - Manfred Mann (100) Possibly the second ever Number 1 I can remember from the time (the first being “Bonnie and Clyde”) and an instant time-travel back to growing up in Stretford, just down the road from an older lad called Stephen Morrissey. As Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, they were the first band I went to see live several years later. Of course drug references – “everybody’s gonna want a dose” and Anthony Quinn went right over my head, it was just a fun song and still is. (Erithian) I've never understood what the lyrics are about for this, but I've always had a soft spot for this song. I'll give it the nod over Abba because I'd be less likely to skip it if iTunes chose it on party shuffle. (Adrian) Slightly odd and silly but no sillier than singing about Yellow Submarines or Bullfrogs with names. (asta) The slight oddity of it adds to its attraction. (Z) The Mannfreds were always a blues rock outfit that had been shoehorned into a pop role. Their live performances were purportedly bizarre because they played in a much harder, rockier style that half the audience, who had only heard the singles, hated. They wanted to be like the Stones, but they were hamstrung by their record company who wanted a more commercial sound, and it's the reason Paul Jones couldn't take it any more and quit. This one, from the Mike D'Abo era, was one time that the rockier sound started edging its way into the singles, if only a little, and was deservedly their biggest hit. It's a stepping stone between singles chart fodder and the more innovative music that was being created elsewhere at the time, and any band who could take an obscure Dylan song and make the public think it was pop magic are always going to get the thumbs up from me. (Alan) I will always say yes to MM, they are one of my faves. When husband first moved over and I was touring him around the states we spent a lot of time with Roaring Silence in the CD player. (jo) It reminds me a little of a rotund footballer with a big moustache, but it's a great song isn't it? The production has dated a bit, but the song stands up okay I reckon. One point seems very harsh when this would have topped most of the other day's selections for me. Them's the breaks though, eh? (SwissToni) Remarkable how these jazzbo rep reliables managed three number ones in the sixties when the Small Faces managed only one and the Who none at all, and even more remarkably this was the first Dylan-related (as composer) UK chart topper; all very affable and the "Eskimo" angle ensured some Junior Choice play even if the producers chose to turn their back on the subtext (if there be any, depending on whose memories you trust). Oh, and if anyone wants to know where Spiritualized copped it all from, check out the two extremely scarce albums released by "Manfred Mann Chapter Three" after the pop Manfreds split in two; maybe if Jason Pierce had been doing the vocals instead of the rather wobbly Mike Hugg, these records would get proper props. (Marcello Carlin) Very minor Dylan. I'm humungously fond of the Basement Tapes,which I have in every incaranation and play from time to time but not especially this version, though, yeah, full marks for making such a throwaway a pop hit. (Dymbel) I didn't know any of the meta stuff. This exercise is quite interesting because if this song came on in the pub, I would be like, yeah, I know this, great song. But actually, it isn't, really. (Gert) Just sounds a bit generic 60s novelty song to me. Can't summon up an opinion on this one. (Sarah) People like songs they can hum and whistle, I suppose. Quite why they would then want to buy it in such numbers I have no idea. (imsodave) Erm, it's the Generation Game theme tune, isn't it? Life, is the name of the game, and I want to play the game with you. The Eskimo version, obviously. (diamond geezer) I'm sure they were mouthing "Mighty Quim" on TOTP the other week. (Geoff) 1988: I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue (90) I hate to disagree with you, but this is bloody brilliant. It may be cheesy, it may be over-bubbly, but it's still perfect pop. And I'm not ashamed to replay it, over and over... (diamond geezer) Ahhh...London '88, sparkling and new, Kylie in the original video (not the more famous and infinitely naffer second one) streaking through Melbourne in her open-topped car (the same one in which Morley takes his journey?) as if the world's opening up just for her, the Australian sun recreated in a gloomy studio in Warrington, the light, the hope, the promise, and no it wasn't Rick Astley sped up. Elegantly loving even if a little too aware of the pressures of mortality. (Marcello Carlin) Love it. Classic. What's to be ashamed of? And how many costume changes? (NiC) I Should Be So Lucky was a big hit when I was at primary school (for which I apologise), and I remember it being quite popular in the playground. The boys who liked it all ended up gay, of course - she had that effect even then... (Will) When this was out I was just that bit too old for this to be anything other than terribly uncool. Now it's got a kind of quaint charm. (Adrian) I dismissed this at the time, but I think it's held up pretty well. (Z) Really hated this at the time. Repetitive, squeaky nonsense - but with the maturing of Kylie (and myself) I guess I've forgiven her a lot over the years. It's nowhere near as bad as my sneery teenage self believed 20 years ago. I was probably just hacked off that she had left Neighbours. (Sarah) If your birthday had been a week later we’d have had the odd outcome (has it happened in Which Decade before?) of the same artist featuring in different decades, 20 years apart – as “Wow” entered the top ten last week. 20 years of hits, who’d’a thunk it? That first single wasn’t for me back in the day – wasn’t pitched at the likes of me in any case – but now both her and Jason’s opening singles exude all the healthy escapism of the soap that spawned them, along with SAW’s sense of just how to create a massive hit. (Mind you, listening to Kylie and Jason’s duet can actually rot your teeth.) (Erithian) Now, it's a bit of a dog this song, but... I get the feeling they knew, and didn't care. There's a happiness and carelessness that is really endearing. (Simon C) This is chirpy Kylie. I much prefer the more mature pouty, vampy Kylie. (asta) I'm not a fan. Only like a handful of her songs. This has a certain yearning quality. No doubt it's a result of Pete Waterman deciding that the teenage demographic has to empathise with the words if they're going to buy the single. (betty) It feels somewhat harsh to only give this a mere two points. I remember this affectionately for some reason, but I think that's bound up in how I feel about "Our" "Brave" Kylie than about the quality of the music. We've grown up with her, haven't we? Pretty generic SA&W nonsense really, isn't it? I'm not sure I can forgive the whole "Hair Hat" thing on the album cover, to be honest. (SwissToni) I'm supposed to like NeighboursKylie, I know, but this hasn't got any better in the twenty years since we all stood smugly folding our arms and glowering. (Simon) I don't like anything she's ever done, especially this. (Geoff) It is really irritating isn't it. I can't say I cared for very much of the Stock Aiken Waterman stuff. This was amongst the best. NiC mentions French and Saunders spoof of Abba, but they also spoofed this. (Gert) I don't get Kylie. At. All. Cute? Sure. Hot? Maybe. But all in all, useless. (jo) No amount of redressing can disguise the fact that this is a turkey of the highest order. (imsodave) Another artist I have never had any feel for in any of her various incarnations. She always seems to me like she spends her career playing catch up and being a cut-price version of whoever was popular six months ago. But worse still, I saw Pete Waterman interviewed on a show recently and he described himself and cohorts Stock and Aitken as "we were the real punks" which had the effect of making me loathe their collective output even more than I already did, which was quite a considerable amount to begin with. Engineered tripe of the worst kind, it's become a laughing stock of a song since and rightly so. (Alan) 1998: Doctor Jones - Aqua (67) I do like aqua, it's what 'pop' is supposed to be, completely silly and with a "it's got a beat and you can dance to it" vibe. (Clair) Surprisingly fresh ten years on considering how played to death it was at the time. (NiC) I read an unbelievably po-faced review of "Barbie Girl" not so long ago, I think on the captions of one of those music channels that tried to take the piss out of the silly scandinavians.... apparently completely missing the point that they were taking the piss out of themselves far more effectively, and as they were at number one, the joke was on us. I actually like this. Harmless pop fun, and nothing wrong with that, eh? eh? (SwissToni) Huge in Denmark. When Love with Arthur Lee were touring the UK, they had Danish roadies and a sound man who had worked on Aqua tours and were very positive about their professionalism and musicianship (I kid you not). (Tina) AquaFact 1: I once saw the hunky guy, Rene I think, come out of a dry cleaner's in Copenhagen and jump into a black Ferrari with a big load of clean clothes. I never see celebrities, so found this pretty cool. AquaFact 2: A year or two later, some friends and I thought it would be a really great idea to go and see Aqua live (this was the era of irony, and we were its children). As I ordered (standing) tickets, everyone thought it very hilarious when I had to confirm to the ticket agent on the phone "yes, we are all over five feet tall". (Simon C) 3 pts. Now I have to confess something here, this isn't purely a musical decision. But I don't think it is possible to be. Aqua were a band who understood that in the modern era, the visual was equally important. Take away the video and there's nothing much here. With the video, however, it's brilliant kitschy fun and makes you grin from ear to ear. (Alan) You could win a pub bet on this – the biggest selling single in the UK by a Scandinavian act was “Barbie Girl” and not anything by Abba. In the sales boom of late ’97 there were two huge hits with possibly the youngest target audience of any Number 1 ever – this and the Teletubbies – and although the follow-up was more listenable, it’s still out of its depth in ths company. (Erithian) I prefer this one to Barbie Girl, which isn't saying much. The Bloke Out Of Aqua was the '90's Bloke Out Of The Sugarcubes. (betty) Fun like bubble gum. Is bubble gum really fun though, or just annoying? (Geoff) This is the 90s novelty group with surprise, surprise- novelty songs. Dr. (Indianna) Jones, isn't even as good as Barbie Girl, which at least could be thought of as biting social comment. Not a patch on "Barbie Girl"; a rather hackneyed variant on the old Goodness Gracious Me/Dr Kiss Kiss/Doctor Love sex-as-medicine template, naff rather than "ironically great." (Marcello Carlin) No fond memories of anything by Aqua. Were this later in the year, I'd assume it was the hangover from our yearly exodus to dodgy Mediterranean resorts...ugh! (Sarah) The power of the tweenie market in full effect. Well and truly on the crest of the Barbie Girl wave here. Presumably they suffered a painful crushing death on the descent. Shame. (imsodave) Music for shop mannequins to smile to. (diamond geezer) Decade scores so far (after 9 days). 1 (2) The 1960s (32) 2 (1) The 1970s (30) 3 (3) The 2000s (27) 4 (4) The 1990s (25) 5 (5) The 1980s (21) Labels: whichdecade08
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Interview: Gary Numan.
On the forthcoming tour, you’ll be playing your 1979 Replicas album in its entirety. What was the inspiration for this? This year is the thirtieth anniversary of my first single coming out, and so it’s my thirtieth anniversary of being professional. I’m also fifty years old in March, so I’ve got two fairly major anniversaries. I wanted to do something special, rather than just letting it slide by and being scared of getting old. There’s a reason that I’ve been here for thirty years. I don’t want it to sound corny, so I apologise upfront for this, but it is the fans who have given me the life that I’ve had, and I am genuinely grateful. I wanted to celebrate that with the people that have given me these thirty years. Replicas was my second album, and it’s the one that Are ‘Friends’ Electric came from and went to Number One. So it’s the album that effectively gave me the career. It’s also one of only two albums that I’ve never toured, so there are songs on there that I’ve never played live. As a rule, I’m hostile towards nostalgia. I don’t like bands that live on past glories. But for this particular year, for this particular tour, I’m going to swallow humble pie a little bit, because it does seem to be the right thing to do. I’m doing another tour later in the year, which will be more conventional, with new stuff and so on. But for this one, I just wanted to say thank you to everybody, and that I’m glad I’m still here. There’s an artistic integrity there as well, I think. If you take on a whole album, then it will inspire people to re-familiarise themselves with it before the show. So there will be more concentration in the room. People will be paying more attention, because they know what to expect. There’s a difficult balance to be drawn, when you do these old songs live. You can do them the way people remember, or you can add some kind of extra shine, which will bring them forward slightly and make them work that much better in a live situation. But if you go too far down that route, you stop the songs from being what people have come to listen to. That’s what I’m working on at the moment, at the pre-rehearsal stage. When I wrote these songs, it was in a little 16-track studio. We only had two synthesisers in the room, and it was all done pretty much on a shoestring. So it will be nice to try to make something more of them, without changing their nature. So you’re fleshing things out, but without returning to that more synth-based sound, as you’ve brought in stronger rock-based elements over the years. Interestingly enough, there are a number of songs on Replicas which are just guitar, bass and drums. It’s not quite as electronic as history talks about. Are ‘Friends’ Electric has got guitars all over it. When I first discovered synthesisers, I didn’t want to replace guitar, bass and drums. All I wanted to do was add another layer of sound. People that were getting into electronic music then – the Kraftwerk type people – threw themselves into it absolutely. It seemed to become a point of honour. It was really anti-guitar for a while, wasn’t it? It suddenly went anti-everything that was there before. It had to be electronic, or else it wasn’t pure. I didn’t give a shit about that. I’ve never been an electronic purist. It sometimes feels weird that I have that reputation, with people talking about me robot dancing. I’ve never f**king robot danced in my life! I couldn’t do it if I tried! An awful lot of things get thrown back at me, as though I started this and I started that, and I really didn’t. A lot of Replicas deals with alienation in an increasingly mechanised, authoritarian world, and so there’s something prophetic about it. People thought we were heading towards some kind of technological Utopia, but you were pointing a finger at all that, and suggesting that it may not be quite so Utopian. Do the themes still feel relevant today? They do, actually. Things have evolved differently to what was suggested, but the underlying fears are still quite relevant to the way we see technology now. There is this feeling that we are becoming increasingly separated, with more and more automation. A silly example is a car. When you turn it on, you’re not directly connected to it. You press a button, you ask it things, and it won’t let you go above a certain speed, no matter what you’re doing. And with aeroplanes, there’s this fly-by-wire business: you’re not flying an aeroplane directly, but you’re asking the computer to do something for you. So now there is a thinking electronic brain between a human and the machine itself. It’s all a bit weird. Sat nav, cruise control, hands-free mobile, all of that…? But it’s when it gets slightly beyond that: when it’s not you that decides to put the cruise on, but it’s the computer in your BMW 70 series or whatever, that says: “No, that’s fast enough. And it’s raining, so I’m going to slow you down.” You know: bollocks! Don’t start driving the car for me! It’s that kind of separation of interaction which is a worry, and I think it’s that sort of thing that – in a very naïve and childish way – Replicas was looking at, but turned into a sci-fi story. Do you still identify with the state of mind that produced those songs, or does it all feel a little bit juvenile? It was written when I was nineteen going on twenty, so I had all that “no-one understands me” teenage angst, and all of that self-pity that teenagers seem to be so full of at times, sometimes justifiably. I think that side of me has long gone. But apart from that, my fear of crowded places, and of interacting with people, and all of those insecurities and worries, are still with me. They’ve been with me my whole life, and much of that is in Replicas. It was written when I had travelled far less, and when I knew less about the world. So I think there is a more childish element to it. I wouldn’t necessarily say it was childish, but obviously a much younger man wrote it. Replicas catapulted you very suddenly to huge success. While you were recording it, did you have any inkling that it could go on to be that successful? No, none at all. My ambition at the time was simply to be able to headline The Marquee club in London. I thought that would have been a big step forward. The first single was Down In The Park, which is now considered one of my best songs, but at the time, it did absolutely nothing. Are ‘Friends’ Electric was five and a quarter minutes long, you couldn’t dance to it, it had no discernible sing-along chorus, and it had none of the classic trademarks of a hit single whatsoever. And it was being released on a tiny independent label that had no money. So there was no reason to expect it to do anything other than knock me up a few levels in the small clubs that I was already playing. How did you deal with that sudden success? Was it enjoyable, traumatic, or a mixture of both? I would say 70% traumatic, 30% enjoyable. There were fantastic moments, but the pressure and the hostility that came with them was completely unexpected, and I would have to admit that I took it very badly. There was certainly hostility from the press, who never even gave you a honeymoon period. Have you any perspective on why you didn’t find favour with the self-appointed taste-makers of the day? I was probably the first big pop star of the post-punk period, so politically I was persona non grata. Even though punk created huge amounts of stars and heroes, its ethos was anti-star, anti-celebrity, anti-establishment. It was completely hypocritical, but that was the vibe. I think I got a huge backlash, because I said: “This is fantastic! I’ve always wanted this!” I had an unfortunate way of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong people, and I had nobody to blame but myself. I was insensitive to the feelings of the time. But even if I had the sensitivity, I’m not sure that I would have done things differently, because I’ve never really been that bothered about telling lies. From very early on, you attracted an exceptionally loyal bunch of supporters. Sometimes it felt as if there was a line to be crossed. Either people ignored you, or else they were fiercely loyal. It placed you on your own, as opposed to being part of a scene. Why do you think that happened? When there is a huge amount of press hostility, it hardens what loyalty there is, and roots it into the ground. The more hostile the press became, the more loyal those fans that stayed with me became. With a lot of artists, the majority of people don’t care one way or the other. Some people love them, some people don’t, but most don’t really care. I didn’t seem to have that. Most people had a bloody opinion, one way or another! Now that’s a good thing, in many respects. If you want to be famous, and you want to be create a stir - which I did, as a young man – that is what you need. But it was a lot more difficult to live with than I expected. In the past few years, you have enjoyed a considerable rehabilitation, particularly amongst a younger generation. A number of hit singles have sampled you – Armand Van Helden, The Sugababes, Basement Jaxx – and your influence is now acknowledged. There must be a great satisfaction in that. It’s still going on now. Groove Armada have just done Are ‘Friends’ Electric, so there’s no signs of it letting up yet. It really is incredibly flattering. I’ve had Number One singles and Number One albums, and I am hugely proud of that. But if I’m really honest, I would have to say that having people that I admire covering my songs has probably given me more satisfaction than anything else. Becoming Number One is really difficult to do, and I don’t take anything way from that at all, but there is undoubtedly an element of luck attached. But other people covering your songs is a totally artistic decision, based on the quality of that song. So from a song-writing point of view, that’s just phenomenal. (Photos of Gary Numan taken on February 25, 2007 by Stv photographe, and reproduced under a Creative Commons non-commercial attribution license.) Labels: eveningpost, interviews, popmusic
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Menomena – Nottingham Rescue Rooms / MGMT – Nottingham Bodega Social, Thursday February 28
(In which I put my blagging skills to the test at the door of The Social, and wonder afterwards whether it was worth it...)
Thanks to a staggered timetable and some canny cross-promotion via Facebook, dedicated followers of US alt-rock were given the opportunity to see two critically acclaimed bands in two different venues, all in the space of a couple of hours. Over at the Rescue Rooms, the larger venue drew the smaller crowd. Menonema, a three-piece act from Portland Oregon, took an intriguingly experimental approach, with band members swapping instruments and alternating on vocals. Judicious use of foot pedals and a laptop fleshed out the surprisingly widescreen sound, and an amiably loose-limbed, musicianly vibe predominated. Although far from immediate in terms of melody and rhythm, the songs maintained a textural interest throughout, with all manner of pleasing twists and turns along the way. Up at the Bodega, the smaller venue was packed to capacity, possibly due to MGMT’s recent appearance on BBC2’s Later. The Brooklyn five-piece adopted a tougher, more visceral style, whose relatively timid conservatism came as a disappointment after the Rescue Rooms show. Around the venue, concentration lapsed and conversations broke out. Yes, they might be the band of the moment – but one has to wonder how long that moment will last. Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic
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Thursday, February 28, 2008
Which Decade Is Tops For Pops? - Year 6 - the Number 2s.
Click here to view all the Which Decade entries on one page.
There's a quote somewhere in the Ian Gittins Top Of The Pops book - ah, here it is, page 71 - from Johnny Marr, talking about the special Christmas editions of the show: "It was often a letdown, because the records I really liked tended to get to Number Eleven, not Number One. I would much rather have seen Mott The Hoople do All The Young Dudes than Don McLean singing bloody Vincent again." I know exactly what he means by that. And having feasted your ears upon the motley crew which comprise our Number Twos (was a Which Decade selection ever more appropriately named?), I fancy that you will too. Hold yer noses! In we go!1968: Cinderella Rockefella - Esther & Abi Ofarim. (video) 1978: Figaro - Brotherhood Of Man. (video) 1988: I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany. (video) 1998: All I Have To Give - Backstreet Boys. (video) 2008: Rockstar - Nickelback. (video) Listen to a short medley of all five songs. ![]() I MAKE THEM VELVET IS MY SPECIALITY (Sorry, a little Nottingham Textile Heritage In Joke there. The rest of you, please skip on by.) Of all the songs in our 1968 Top 10, Esther & Abi Ofarim's novelty duet is the one that I remember the most vividly, doubtless because it was played on the radio shows that my parents were most likely to listen to. (I'm guessing Housewives' Choice and Family Favourites.) There's period charm, I'll grant you (especially in the video clip) - and I'm always partial to bit of yodelling - but, ecch, maybe I'm just a jaded old grump, as this stopped putting a smile on my face a long time ago. ![]() Not content with distilling the loamy essence of Fernando (and the piano riff of Dancing Queen) into the milky piss-water of Angelo, the sheer paucity of creative vision at the heart of BOM enured that, in best dog-returning-to-its-own-vomit style, the formula could bear one more reduction. Adios, ill-starred Mexican shepherd boy! And hola, medallion-clanking scourge of the Costa de Sol! Believe it or not, this was voted Best Single of 1978 by the viewers of the ITV children's show Magpie. Tsk, kids, eh? And we have the nerve to complain about bassline house on the bus? (But I do still quite like the rising and falling bass vamp which underpins the chorus. There, I've said it. Fair and balanced, me.) ![]() Much as I loathed it at the time, snobby little hipster that I was, you simply couldn't keep a good song down - and I Think We're Alone Now, whether by Tiffany in 1988, or Lene Lovich in 1978, or The Rubinoos in 1977, or Tommy James and the Shondells in 1967, or indeed Girls Aloud in 2006 (and I can do interpretive movements to the Girls Aloud version, as demonstrated in a Brighton gay club last May, hem hem, ooh I can still show them youngsters a thing or two), is a great song. So much so, that even Tiff's generically tinny 1980s production job somehow ends up playing to the song's strengths. (And before we move on, I must pay a fond tribute to my long-lost friend Nik's "alternative cabaret" version of this, as performed down the Old Vic on a Stop Clause 28 benefit night, which approached the song from the perspective of a pair of smug young marrieds. "We'll tear down the walls! And build an archway to the dining room!" Ah, 'twas class...) ![]() Because, you see, there's some sort of protective override system in my brain which absolutely refuses to ingest production-line boy-band ballads of this nature. I must have played All I Have To Give a good half dozen times in the last couple of weeks, in an attempt to reach an informed opinion - and every goddammed time, my brain detuned after the first thirty seconds. So, all I have to give is this. Firstly, that this is an early example of the sort of ghastly straining-on-the-potty pop vocal technique that would come to dominate the early-to-mid Noughties (Enrique, I'm looking at you) - and secondly, that Louis Walsh, having already bludgeoned us into submission with Boyzone, must have been taking careful notes for his next project... ![]() For if you're the sort of person who derived profundity from Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen) and an important history lesson from We Didn't Start The Fire, then I'm guessing that Rockstar is your idea of Wry Social Profundity. But hey, with major cultural figures in the video like Gene Simmons, Kid Rock, Nelly Furtado and Ted Nugent, they must be doing something right, yeah? Sorry, readers. I don't know what's got into me this evening. Perhaps we should leave it there. I'll be Princess Fluffy again tomorrow, I promise. My votes: Tiffany - 5 points. Esther & Abi Ofarim - 4 points. Nickelback - 3 points. Brotherhood Of Man - 2 points. Backstreet Boys - 1 point. Over to you. I have suffered for my art, and now it's your turn. Don't all rush at once! Running totals so far - Number 2s. 1988: I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany (147) Ah yes. Pop genius, and following on from Debbie Gibson the other day, another of this year's wholesome 80s starlets who got'em out for Playboy. God love her. There's a great song in here underneath that production. It still sounds alright today, I reckon. (SwissToni) Yay! I think this may actually be the best version of this song. (And before anyone says anything, this movie is not about me, OK?) (jeff w) 5 points, since out of this singularly sorry lot this is the only record which truly deserves any points. I liked the shopping mall marketing plan, though (and what was our equivalent in the UK of the late eighties? The late, lamented Don Estelle flogging his tapes and singing along to them in Arndale Centres up and down the land!), and she grasps the "children BEHAVE" motif in a way that Tommy James or the Rubinoos (being boys) wouldn't have been able to do. Harmless fun and an obvious number one, although the Tommy James original with its hesitant pauses of chirping crickets - what happened to the concept of spaces and silence in pop? - is overall architecturally and aesthetically better as a pop record. (Marcello Carlin) The first version of 'I Think We're Alone Now' that I heard was by The Rubinoos and I still love their take on it, though I later acquired the fine original. (I always first think of Tommy James as 'Crimson and Clover' though, a key early record for me). I once named a short story after this song and, by implication, the mediocre Tiffany version is playing in the story's final paragraph, so I guess I owe her. (Dymbel) Proof that good music transcends genre. You see, it has all the Eighties trademarks (except scratching) that have pissed me off throughout this exercise, but actually it is a good song. Not great, but almost certainly in my top five for this year's WD (which is damning with faint praise). I like her voice, especially the richness at the bottom of her range. Towards the top she's a bit of a poor person's Cyndi Lauper. (Gert) Not a classic by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it's reasonably well produced and inoffensive. (Adrian) Like you said, it’s very difficult to screw up with a song like this. (Erithian) Really never imagined that I'd ever give this 5 points. No-one who knows me in real life comes here do they? A bit of remixing and this could be quite something actually. (NiC) 5 Points - solely on the grounds that it wasn't anything like as bad as I remember it. It's still pretty f**king bad though! (Alan) 5 points to Tiffany, and I never thought I would say that, as I've alwas thought it unbelievably naff, but compared to the rest of this lot, it's fantastic. (David) Almost irresistibly catchy. Talking of comedy clubs, as Alan does below, I was in one of Nottingham's scuzziest last Friday night and they played this track - the hen party from Barnsley and the big group of blokes from Hucknall did jiggy to it all over the place - complete with imitation lurex microphone which all and sundry sang into. (Tina) The song may have its moments, but I don't like her delivery at all. (Z) 1 point, because I've discovered she posed topless and I'm totally against that sort of thing. Oh, and it was a stinking pile of 80s turdiness. (Geoff) 1968: Cinderella Rockefella - Esther & Abi Ofarim (107) 5 points, because it reminds me of being tucked up in bed during one of my never ending childhood illnesses, feeling safe, secure, and best of all, listening to the radio because I'd had time off school. Plus, I'm still likely to start singing it when I'm drunk, so it *must* have a special place in my heart. Stands head and shoulders above the other four songs, gawd help 'em. (betty) I've only got good memories of this. Genuinely strange and wonderful. Tiny Tim crossed with Lee Hazlewood. (Geoff) Everyone I know, including my mum, still assumes this to have been a Eurovision entry, but no, that year's winner, even beating Mr Forever Guy Cliff into second place, was Spain's Massiel with the memorable "La La La" (although whoever wrote Andy Williams' "Happy Heart" obviously remembered it). Still, it can't be under-emphasised that in a year when CBS were more prepared to put marketing resources behind Solomon King than the Zombies (can you believe that "Time Of The Season" was never a hit single in its native country?), that when the US number ones of '68 included not only the aforementioned Archie Bell & the Drells ("from Houston TEXAS!") and Hugh Masekela but the Rascals ("People Got To Be Free"), "Love Child" (top 20 only in Britain) and "Dock Of The Bay" (#3 in the UK), serious questions have to be raised in the house about the misleading (?) picture of music that the success of trifles like "Cinderella Rockafella" would seem to have indicated. It is perhaps excusable in the light of the song's author, Mason Williams, also having a much better hit in the same year with "Classical Gas" (which sounds like a lost Forever Changes backing track), and the excellent work that Esther Ofarim has done elsewhere (see for instance "Any Day Now," her "guest" appearance on side one of Scott Walker's 'Til The Band Comes In), but really these 4 points are in Monopoly money. (Marcello Carlin) They've chosen a direction and gone all out for it. In company like this such conviction, even if mis-placed, can lift you above the rest. (Adrian) This amused me when I was fourteen, which allows me to give it a modicum of tolerance. (Z) A fondly-remembered novelty rather than anything of great value (although their “One More Dance” had a haunting quality).(Erithian) I don't like novelty records. I wonder who was buying the records back in the Sixties, because I don't see the chart being particularly Teens or even Twenties oriented. Unless young people were prematurely middle-aged. (Gert) I really was hoping for a " Young Girl" or Baby Come Back" or even "Lady Madonna" but no, this is what we get. Another f*^#*ing novelty act. I really think it's got to be February. When we finish all the Februarys will you consider a comparison with July/August? Pretty please? (asta) I always thought it was Mike Moran & Lynsey du Paul. (David) Blimey. There's not enough yodelling in the charts nowadays, is there? **seconds pass** Ah, okay, now I'm bored of this. The joke isn't funny anymore. En Suivant! (SwissToni) 2008: Rockstar - Nickelback (103) Hmm, you were praising with faint damns there, weren’t you Mike? I like this – not sure I’d ascribe profundity or wryness to it (and I hated “We Didn’t Start The Fire” as much as the next man) but it’s refreshing to hear a rock band intentionally sending up both itself and the "raaawwk" lifestyle. In the tradition of “Life’s Been Good” by Joe Walsh or Dr Hook’s early material (if you only know them for gloopy ballads try “Cover of the Rolling Stone”). And it’s still fun after it becomes familiar. Nice vid as well. (Erithian) Just what is happening with the creepy voiceover stuff? Nickelback were never that good, but I was hoping they'd provide some guilty-pleasure-style respite. (Adrian) Take your point, Erithian. It's not for me in any shape or form, but I can see that it's a reasonably accurate lampoon on an awful lot of people's fantasies of the rock star lifestyle - but they could have taken it so much further, so I can't help feeling that it's a waste of a decent premise. (Those creepy voice-overs that Adrian mentioned were provided by a member of ZZ Top, by the way.) (mike) For the first few bars I thought 'not bad' but then I just fell asleep, it is so boring. An unusual reaction, if I don't like something, I still tend to react. (Gert) I'm giving this 4 points? Oh sweet lord above. Now, the thing about this is that I'm absolutely convinced that although this is being seen as ironic, it was written with a perfectly straight face. Chad Kroeger has cut his hair. He has many cars. He is a rockstar (and is there any sadder an indictment of music than that?). I don't know about the hookers and the dealers and stuff, and I know he's canadian and all (sorry asta), but I'm prepared to take a wild guess that he didn't have to look very far for his inspiration. (SwissToni) Should be number one for 26 weeks in a Bryan Adams way. Would have been in the 80s. And the 80s were great, weren't they? (Geoff) I was in a comedy club a few weeks back, Tom Stade was headlining and because I was sat in the front (and because I look like, well, me) he naturally made me his buttmonkey for the night. And one of the first things he said was "I don't know anything about you, except that you smoke a lot of dope and like Nickelback." I really wanted to put him right on that second one. This is a band who started out by distilling everything that was great about bands like the Pixies, Nirvana, Soundgarden and the Smashing Pumkins, and then discarding that and using what was left over. Like I said with Rod Stewart, I'm a die-hard rocker from way back, and that's exactly why I don't like this. It isn't rock music, it's what someone who has had rock music described to them but has never actually heard it would create. (Alan) With all the fabulously talented Canadian singer/songwriters out there, Nickelback is sitting in the number 2 spot? Outrageous. They've been recording the same paint-by-numbers song for seven years. Only the lyrics change. Oh lucky us, this one is a self-indulgent whine about MTV kids and rock star life. (asta) Peter Robinson's recent piece in the Guardian Guide was the definitive study of Nickelback's true awfulness. Hey, even though he's a rock star who lives the rock star lifestyle, he's slagging off other people who want to be rock stars and live the rock star lifestyle! Way to go, dude! Gets three points because the singer is quite funny ... for a few seconds. (betty) At least BoM have the decency to be bland and know it (I imagine). This is bland posing as rock. Begone. (Stereoboard) Thank goodness for Duffy, eh? Otherwise this might have got to #1. I knew there must be some reason for her existence... (jeff w) 1 point, because they're Canadian and therefore should know much, much better. Because really I don't care whether it's supposed to be ironic or not. It's a lump of overspent Mothers' Pride bread blocking up the orchard of popular music development. I can't abide Duffy but I do applaud her for keeping this muck off the top. Now come down, dear, and give H(two)) a chance. (Marcello Carlin) 1978: Figaro - Brotherhood Of Man (65) It could be down to the fact that I've got a bad headache, but I'm now imagining what Brotherhood Of Man's version of I Think We're Alone Now would sound like. Oh, and I can remember The Barron Knight's spoof version, which then leads me to remember The Barron Knights' Boney M send up There's A Dentist From Birmingham. It's terrible and I'm probably having some sort of meltdown. (betty) Pure nostalgia. This was the very first pop record I bought, for 69p. Objectively, I have to say it is pretty bad, low-rent Abba, over-produced vocals blah de blah, but the tune is so etched on my mind, it has the comfort of the familiar. And now I'm freaked out that Betty's mentioned "Dentist in Birmingham", because I brought this into conversation today at work, sight unseen, as a follow-on from a discussion of the Wurzels (you had to be there) but I couldn't remember the name of the band so I googled it. (Gert) I never liked Abba, so a second rate middle-class English imitation with mumsy looking women is quite painful. For some reason, watching the video made me think of Abigails Party. (Alan) If you're going to rip off ABBA could you at least put some effort into it? God, a highschool production of Mamma Mia could outdo this. (asta) oh crikey! Amateur hour. Bjorn Again are probably deeply offended by this. I don't even like Abba and I know I am. (SwissToni) Motherhood of Bran, as we used to refer to them at school (why couldn't it have been the Brotherhood of Breath, my all time favourite band in any genre of music?), and this was a truly terrible number one in a chart which also contained "What Do I Get?" and "Shot By Both Sides" (now THERE would have been a top-of-the-chart battle worth following). The subtext here: watch out for all those greasy foreigners who'll steal your wife/your job/your house/swamped by alien culture &c. They were rightfully swept away one week later by the Harold Wilson to their Mike Yarwood (or, if you know your seventies Brit impressionists, the David Frost to their Peter Goodwright) - Abba. And if you think this was bad, what about the follow-up to "Save Your Kisses" - "My Sweet Rosalie" which seems to promote canophilia. (Marcello Carlin) Yes, the horror that was "My Sweet Rosalie" - an earlier (and more metaphorically apposite!) example of BOM deploying the dog-returning-to-its-own-vomit, "if you thought the other one sucked, try sucking on THIS you suckers" trick. I am still scarred by the memory of their "Seventies medley" at the Royal Centre last year, in particular the segue from "Remember You're A Womble" (complete with GLOVE PUPPET) to "My Ding-A-Ling"... (mike) 3 points: Brotherhood Of Man. Because I like the sentiments behind the group's name. (Geoff) 1998: All I Have To Give - Backstreet Boys (58) I dislike "production-line boy-band ballads" as much as the next man, but the Brit and Irish variants are 10 times worse than this. the BBoys are dodgy singers but the arrangement is lovely and the song's OK; the melody in the chorus is pretty strong, actually. (jeff w) I think you're being unfair here Mike, they're much better than Westlife. Mind you, so is having major bowel surgery without an anaesthetic. This is dull, bland and pointless, but it's not awful, hence the four points, because frankly everything else is. (Alan) Aside from the half-strangled mimicking of Prince singing a ballad, they're not that bad. Let me be more precise- they're better than a lot of other boy bands. O Town anyone? (asta) I can't believe that I'm placing this shit so high. Hmmm. There was a time when I was in Florida with a friend that every time I touched the radio dial, the Backstreet Boys came on with "I Want It That Way". Now, I didn't much like that song, but compared to this one, it's Ivor Novello winning stuff. Lazy, unimaginative tripe of the kind now cranked out by Westlife. You can see them standing up as the song cranks up for a big finish. Awful. (SwissToni) Oh god, painting my numbers. You'd have thought, when he wobbles, they'd have gone for another take. (Gert) Completely unmemorable. Louis Walsh must indeed have been taking notes. A real letdown if compared to the awesome Everybody (Backstreet's Back), the band's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. (betty) I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention to the charts at this period, but just the thought that this was an influence on the likes of W------e is enough to earn them a place in the bowels of hell. (Erithian) Decade scores so far (after 8 days). 1 (2) The 1970s (29) 2 (1) The 1960s (29) 3 (3) The 2000s (24) 4 (4) The 1990s (23) 5 (5) The 1980s (16) Labels: whichdecade08
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Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Which Decade Is Tops For Pops? - Year 6 - the Number 3s.
Click here to view all the Which Decade entries on one page.
Le sigh. Once again, I am Homo Alone, with only the upstairs PC and a freshly poured glass of Valdivieso for company. K is in Copenhagen until Saturday, and has just loyally logged on, in the hope of finding today's selections and "cheering me up". Given his habitual hatred of the voting process, this takes loyalty to a new level, and so I do feel a bit bad for letting him down. Shall we? Yes, we shall. Ladies and gentleman of the blog, it's the Number Threes! 1968: She Wears My Ring - Solomon King. (video) 1978: If I Had Words - Scott Fitzgerald & Yvonne Keeley with the St. Thomas More School Choir. (video) 1988: Tell It To My Heart - Taylor Dayne. (video) 1998: Never Ever - All Saints. (video) 2008: Now You're Gone - Basshunter. (video) Listen to a short medley of all five songs. ![]() Why, it's almost enough to make She Wears My Ring sound interesting... and on one level, the downright creepiest Which Decade entry since Billy J. Kramer's Little Children. ![]() (There, I swore I wasn't going to waste more than a sentence on that load of old toot. Scott Fitzgerald ended up doing Eurovision, you know. Surprised? No, I didn't think you would be.) ![]() Although, like the depressing majority of our 1988 Top 10, this is fairly standard issue stuff, Taylor belts it out like a trouper (eventually receiving a Grammy nomination for her labours), and I cannot help but gaze fondly on - meaning that, unlike, Scott and Yvonne, she's worth, ooh, two sentences. ![]() Despite the faintly comical spoken intro, which can't quite decide which side of the Atlantic it comes from, Never Ever oozes class from the moment that the main track kicks in. (And frankly, dear hearts, class is in rather short supply today.) ![]() Basshunter's Now You're Gone started life nearly two years ago, in a distinctly slower Swedish-language incarnation known as Boten Anna: a love song directed to an IRC bot, if you can countenance such a thing. (Or rather, to a woman whom Mister Basshunter mistook for an IRC bot. What's IRC? What's a bot? Oh, you go and look it up.) If you think that all sounds quite quirky and interesting, then I'm afraid that none of it translates to the duller-than-dull English language version, which is to its Swedish original what the clunking 99 Red Balloons was to the delightful 99 Luftballons, and hence not worthy to lick the boots of the H "two" O track with which it shares a record label. My votes: All Saints - 5 points. Taylor Dayne - 4 points. Basshunter - 3 points. Solomon King - 2 points. Scott & Yvonne - 1 point. Over to you. Not the best bunch we've ever had, I'll grant you. A string of Fives all round for All Saints, then? Or are you all a bunch of closet Schaffel Boshers? The 1960s are back ahead again, but the 2000s could still catch up, at least in theory. Phone lines are open.... NOW! Running totals so far - Number 3s. 1998: Never Ever - All Saints (149) One of the greatest of number ones and the competition which the Spice Girls direly needed at the turn of '97/8; so patient a record, so effortlessly hip an approach (their Woody Allen-style hands-in-pockets/shrugging-shoulders routine), and the red alert sign for New Pop Mk II (Cameron McVey changes music for the third time in less than a decade) - a wonderful Shangri-Las in W11 intro (as Brit-born, Canadian-raised expats I think we can accommodate the Appletons' AC/DC accents - the magic lies in the accentual instability), a sublime shuffle of a pop song which turns into a near-gospel hymn at the end (that organ) without descending into Jools Holland worthiness and then SNAP! the beats break up and they become even hipper as the song fades. (Marcello Carlin) 5 points. Totally has to be, and not just because I’ve been mates with Melanie Blatt’s dad for 20 years or so. (Check out his book “Manchester United Ruined My Wife”, the Old Trafford answer to “Fever Pitch”.) Yes, it’s a little patchy with that spoken intro, but a deserved massive hit. Marcello will confirm it holds the record for the most copies sold before the week it reached number 1. (Erithian) Confirmed - 770,000 copies sold before it topped the chart, and it ended up selling just short of one-and-a-half million. (Marcello Carlin) This is how you do 'slow' without 'plod'. Quite what the formula for success here is I couldn't say, but the ladies stumbled on it here. (jeff w) Well yes, there's really no choice but All Saints is there? Head and shoulders and pretty much all other parts above the rest of these selections. Never really liked them much, but this one was palatable and easily the best of their singles. Pity they chose to follow it up with their execrable wimpy cover of Under the Bridge. (Alan) One of the best pop groups of the 90s who hardly put a foot wrong. They even made a silk purse out of a plodding Red Hot Chilli Peppers sow's ear. (Geoff) Not as good as "Black Coffee" but an awful lot better than their cover of "Under the Bridge" and any of the rest of this motley selection. It's classy sounding, for heaven's sake, even if I seriously dislike the alternating pronunciation of Ay to Zee and Ay to Zed. (SwissToni) The almost pseudo-Shangri-Las spoken intro is a bit dubious but once that's over it's pure pop genius (though very much a slow grower on me at the time I recall). (NiC) Not even my favourite song by them, but gets the most points by default. Always had a soft spot for that wobbly thing Shaznay does with her vocals ... (betty) Never ever have I ever liked this song. Clearly written by someone with a limited vocabulary. It's the sound of a toddler having a lazy tantrum. (imsodave) When Shaznay sings: I'll take a shower, I will scour... am I the only one who pictures her cleaning under her arms with a green scouring pad and some fairy liquid? (Oliver R) 1988: Tell It To My Heart - Taylor Dayne (118) Haven't heard this in years. It's held up better than I remember, and although it's not fantastic, it's easily top here. (Adrian) Blistering vocal performance from TD and again a breakbeat which seems to skate right through the walls of Streathamm Ice Rink; furiously busy, completely 1988, as tinny as any Carnaby Street Acieed smiley T-shirts but it still feels exciting. I wonder if McCartney might want to have a word apropos "No Reply," though. (Marcello Carlin) While I sit at home and say "ah yes, very fine specimen of 80s pop, that", sipping my wine, I know that if I somehow found myself at an 80s disco night and it came on, I'd be on my feet in seconds. (Simon C) I certainly enjoy this more now than at the time. But enough about me. This is a cracker. Crackles and fizzes with sexual energy. Hang on, that's me again. The song is good. The best of a poor bunch today. I like it. Cheers. (imsodave) I've always felt that this would be better without the tinny computer drumtrack; I'd like to hear it done as Rock Anthem, and I think her voice makes her a Rock Belter. It's not bad, but don't need it in my collection. (Gert) My mother would have called her rough. We all thought she was scary. Song's nothing all that special- but better than the dregs to follow. (asta) This drips testosterone, oddly. (SwissToni) Is this where Stock Aitken & Waterman got that irritating keyboard sound from? Curse you, Taylor. (jeff w) I assume she was a former backing singer for Foreigner or Toto. That's where she should've stayed. (betty) 2008: Now You're Gone - Basshunter (86) As this genre goes, I find I can live with this track – effective use of the big beats, and it’s even got a tune you can whistle. Loses a point for deploying the old “chewed-up cassette tape” effect. (Erithian) Went home to celebrate midsummer the right number of years ago for this to be The Song in Sweden at the time. Was horrified. Now I would say, well, fair enough. Untz untz fodder for the masses. (Simon C) Formulaic... even when the beat kicks in it hasn't got any energy. (Adrian) A sort of Bachman-Turner Overdrive to the Guess Who of the superb Swedish original. (Marcello Carlin) Will have to have a listen to the Swedish version then. Doesn't really go anywhere, does it? Reminds me of Snap!'s Rhythm Is A Dancer, but nowhere near as good. (betty) Not sure I agree with you about Nena, but this is clearly the most disastrous attempt to anglicise a eurohit since Las Ketchup. This did so well in the end, I'm sure 'Boten Anna' could have been a hit in its own right here. (jeff w) Are you sure this is from the Noughties because it even has Eighties Big Hair and Sinclair Spectrum drum track. At least it doesn't scratch. (Gert) This must have taken all of 1 minute to write. I bet Chris Moyles probably took longer writing his parody. Is that chorus bit meant to be euphoric? It fails and only serves to depress. (SwissToni) Look at any edition of the Now series from the last fifteen years. They're packed full of garbage like this. I think it was existential philosopher-lover-poet Haddaway who said it best when he sang "What is love? Baby, don't hurt me". Alright? Quite. This nonsense is essentially just a ringtone. Basshunter indeed! We know where the f*cking bass is. It's all over this mess of a tune. (imsodave) 1978: If I Had Words - Scott Fitzgerald & Yvonne Keeley (80) I do like this song. I liked it way back when I was 10. And I continue to like it, I think there is a very bright mood about it. I don't think the 'reggae' bit ever really came through a valved radio tuned to Medium Wave (although obviously, the Top 20 on Sunday did also go out on Radio 2 VHF). Someone on YouTube has made some comment about it not being shown on TOTP, and I have to admit I have always assumed the male singer was black. White men shouldn't sing falsetto. (Gert) I have always liked it despite itself - better known these days for its use in the film Babe, I guess, but I like the fugal/spiritual construct, the French/reggae fusion which hasn't been properly followed through, and the bells at the end - undeniably corny, but as a 14-year-old boy with a doomed classmate crush it spoke directly to me. The missus heard it for the first time when Dale played it on Pick Of The Pops the other Sunday and she loved it! (Marcello Carlin) Nice bit of cod reggae with a James Last feel. (Geoff) A pleasant surprise after your build up. I do like cod-reggae in general though. (jeff w) Never heard this before, and it's not as completely horrendous as the other options today, despite the weird, choral, reggae-lite nature of it. Yvonne is not a sexy name. (imsodave) 4 Points - Oh dear, none of them deserve it, do they? I'm going for Scott & Yvonne just because, well they tried to do something. I'm not sure what though. This could have at least been inoffensive if it weren't for the falsetto screeching. That man cannot possibly have any testicles to be able to sing that high. (Alan) I didn’t care for it much at the time, and since then it’s been tainted even further by being used to the point of nausea on the soundtrack to “Babe”. (Erithian) What was it with the late 70s and school choirs? Did people think that was the good bit from Pink Floyd's Wall? Or is my timeline completely out. Still, trying to work that out will help me ignore this track. (Adrian) Is this a really rubbish attempt by an uncool white woman to do reggae? I do believe it is. What was Fitzgerald thinking? And I can only assume that a white person wrote this too, with all that talk of "moonshine". (SwissToni) I wish someone had been there at the time to say, "Please step away from the microphone, and no one will get hurt". (asta) 1968: She Wears My Ring - Solomon King (62) Superb opening, kind of sinister, but then he starts singing, and it sounds like its being played about 10% too slow. (Stereoboard) I've actually got a copy of this, on a 3CD compilation called The Greatest Voices. Good thing it didn't say greatest songs, or greatest lyrics... (Adrian) See what he did with the name there, clever huh? Even my mum would think this was too old fashioned, and she's nearly eighty and likes Perry Como. (Alan) Memories of drunken family party choruses of “She wears my ring, ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling…” Ugh. (Erithian) So they DID have a cure for insomnia in the 60s then? Dreadfully tedious crap. Oh, perhaps I'm just being unfair and it's aged badly. Maybe in the 60s it made perfect sense. (SwissToni) t's astonishing that, in any week of any year, this could be deemed to be more popular than The Love affair or Amen Corner. People will buy any old rubbish. And this is both old and rubbish. (imsodave) The bad bit of Sixties Music already (over) represented by EngHump. "She belongs to me" - ha ha ha, the Seventies were just round the corner. (Gert) "THIS TINY RING IS A TOKEN OF TENDER EMOTION!" Subtle. (Geoff) Deeply creepy with the added potential to induce vomiting. (asta) I've reached the stage of finding twisted humour in it, but context is everything, and perhaps the smirks are ultimately misplaced. (mike) Even as a four-year-old this record gave me the creeps (and this involves personal, family-related reasons which I'm not going to go into here)...Solomon King, nee one-time (and future) Jordanaire Allen Levy from Kentucky, standing at 6 ft 8 out of his polished shoes, who belted out this genuinely frightening belch of proprietorial pride, curiously written by the generally placid Felice and Boudleaux Bryant. "She belongs to ME!" "She's MINE - ETERNALLY!" he intones like Victor Mature following a steroid overdose; he begins at Engelbert level but quickly progresses to Mario Lanza skyscraper-shattering high Cs so dementedly immense that they actually drown out the music. Like Jerry Vale's similarly-themed "My Woman, My Woman, My Wife" this record was especially popular among prospective wife beaters in Scotland and the North of England. Number three this got to in our charts, where it stayed for the best part of half a year. Meanwhile, America got things like "Tighten Up" and "Grazing In The Grass." No wonder Radio 2 is now so ardent to rewrite its own history and hopefully make its audience forget that this was the sort of Brylcreemed drivel they played endlessly at the time, rather than "Brown Eyed Girl" or "Piece Of My Heart" or whatever. Oh, and for examples of how to do the big ballad thing and carry it off, please investigate the collected works of the late, great Roy Hamilton. (Marcello Carlin) Decade scores so far (after 7 days). 1 (1) The 1960s (28) 2 (1) The 1970s (27) 3 (3) The 2000s (21) 4 (4) The 1990s (17) 5 (5) The 1980s (12) Labels: whichdecade08
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Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Which Decade Is Tops For Pops? - Year 6 - the Number 4s.
Click here to view all the Which Decade entries on one page. Sometimes, I think that my whole life could be defined as an epic struggle against procrastination - and it's a struggle which, regrettably, I have spent most of today losing. And so, while K packs his clobber for Copenhagen (where he'll be from tomorrow until Saturday), I'm going to seize the moment and squeeze out today's instalment. Number Fours, get your arses over here! And look lively about it! 1968: Everlasting Love - The Love Affair. (video) 1978: Come Back My Love - Darts. (video) 1988: Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car - Billy Ocean. (video) 1998: My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion. (video) 2008: Sun Goes Down - David Jordan. (video) Listen to a short medley of all five songs. ![]() Although I'm still not entirely clear as to whether Amen Corner covered American Breed or vice versa, the provenance of Everlasting Love is a clear one: Robert Knight performed the "authentic", "soulful" original, and The Love Affair (or rather lead singer Steve Ellis and a bunch of session men) followed up with the "watered down", "manufactured" cheapo Brit-pop copy (Marmalade having already rejected it as "too poppy", THE FOOLS). Having been cleansed of my residual "rockism" a long time ago, I can't say that such issues of "authenticity" particularly trouble me. The Love Affair's version is, after all, still the work of living, breathing human beings, and to my ears it works gloriously well, anything that the song loses in hesitant tenderness and lightness of touch being adequately compensated by the soaring, widescreen grandeur of the production. ![]() (And, oh look, here's a 1975 clip of the band in their former incarnation as Rocky Sharpe and the Razors, performing the self same song.) Darts were always just the right side of Hip for people like me, with a winning freshness and an underlying knowingness, which somehow tipped you the wink that there was slightly more to them than met the eye. And of course, for school kids of a certain age, there was the added thrill of The Bit Where It Sounds Like They're Singing "Do The Wank" - which should never be discounted. ![]() ![]() The artist in question is Wilson's fellow Canadian Celine Dion: a singer whose appeal has similarly always been lost on me (or in other words, I can't f**king stand her either). Despite her own early hatred of it, My Heart Will Go On became Celine's biggest hit - eventually landing her an Oscar for her trouble - and it has since been ranked as the 14th most successful song in music history. Even after making allowances for the massive boost that it received from the equally risible Titanic, I too am at a loss to explain why this banal little dirge captured the hearts of millions. As for Celine's performance, it's Humperdinck Syndrome all over again: technically adept, but smarmily over-egged and clinically devoid of true emotion. All of which makes me more than eager to get stuck into Carl Wilson's worthy little tome - especially since, as Dymbel was quick to point out, Wilson has seen fit to quote selections from my 2006 Eurovision series for Slate on pages 43 and 44: fully attributed, although he's a full decade out on the date. Woo! And indeed, Hoo! ![]() My votes: Love Affair - 5 points. Darts - 4 points. David Jordan - 3 points. Billy Ocean - 2 points. Celine Dion - 1 point. Over to you. The 1960s and 1970s are neck and neck once again, but otherwise there's not much change in our accumulated chart - which, to be honest, could do with a few upsets. (It's not always this static, you know!) Then again, have the 2000s ever scored so consistently well before? As a perennial champion of the underdog, that gladdens me mightily. OK, dinner time! Running totals so far - Number 4s. 1968: Everlasting Love - The Love Affair (146) This is miles ahead of anything else so far this year. (chris) The kind of timeless greatness that WDITFP should ultimately be about (but, alas, that would be too hard to judge for the more recent decades) (Simon C) 5 points: it just has to be. For me a beginning of time; it was number one the day I started primary school (and therefore the day where my memory really begins) and it felt like the whole world in all its bizarre colours had been suddenly opened up for me - I think of FAB ice lollies, Tintin books, the kiddies' crazy golf course in our local park, Glasgow with everyone still wearing hats and suits, the transistor radio blaring while playing on swings and roundabouts, my first piano lessons - it feels, in short, like waking up on a brilliant day when there have been no previous day. As a pop record it stands up brilliantly and I would argue better than the Robert Knight original (though this also marks, in tandem with Felice Taylor's "I Feel Love Coming On," the early onset of Northern Soul crossover; and also Carl Carlton did a very fine cover in the mid-seventies) - Steve Ellis always wanted to be his great personal mate Steve Marriott, really, and he more than holds his own against Keith Mansfield's opulent orchestration and Clem Cattini's characteristically clattering drums (and Mike Smith's production - with that last cymbal/backing vocal/drum roll sequence it's hello, Trevor Horn). Great b/vox also (Sue and Sunny) which sometimes threaten to overtake Ellis. Who cares who played on the record, especially since one of the people who didn't - Morgan Fisher - went on to Mott, Lol Coxhill and much, much else? (Marcello Carlin) 1968 seems to have been the year for these big, orchestrated numbers. This packs so much punch compared to whatever the modern equivalent would be (I dunno, The Kooks?!). Love the follow up, Rainbow Valley, as well. Is it worth the £6 to get the Best Of compilation in HMV, I wonder? (betty) One of my favourite songs of all time, in whatever incarnation. Possibly prefer this above Robert Knight's (original?) as it's more frenzied and less mannered. Bass, drums, horns and soul. "Need a love to last forever". Indeed. (imsodave) Soaring chorus, this is far far above any of the rest of today's offerings. (Adrian) Love the bass, as up in the mix as Chris Squire's. The only decent song today. (Geoff) Good to find that fond memories of 1968 aren't simply nostalgia. (Z) I absolutely have to give this five points, plus another five bonus points, because this is my birth song. Can you believe it, what a wonderful song to have as the number one on the hit parade when I made my auspicious start in the world. I didn't actually find this fact out until I was sixteen - for some reason it didn't matter to my parents - so I was delighted to discover it was a really ace song. At that point I knew another version, by Rachel Sweet and I was going to write Rex Harrison, but that would be so so wrong, so I w'k'p'd it and it's actually Rex Smith, but thinking about it, a Rex Harrison version would have a certain something. (Gert) Generally I listen, review and then read your commentary so as not to be SWAYED. It's a good thing I read the top paragraph because there I was again thinking...yet again, another version that is different from the one I knew. Husband and I went through this also in the summer when I was playing Seals and Crofts Summer Breeze when the night blooming jasmine was smelling up the entire back garden and he told me about the version he had known all along by The Isley Brothers, of course I had never heard that version. (jo) Brilliant. Right from the 'woo-ooo-ooh' bit, the brass and the bass line. Even the limp singing can't ruin that kind of a start. Just think of that chorus people.... hang on for the chorus! Sadly not the best version of this song, but it's still a great song, innit. (SwissToni) They were a moddy little bunch weren't they - I seem to think Steve Ellis was about 14 at the time (actually looking at Wikipedia he was 17). (Tina) Solid 60s fare, always great to hear again. Anothe |