1969: (If Paradise Is) Half As Nice - Amen Corner. (video)
1979: Heart Of Glass - Blondie. (video)
1989: Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart - Marc Almond featuring Gene Pitney. (video)
1999: Maria - Blondie. (video)
2009: The Fear - Lily Allen. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Ones.

1979: Heart Of Glass - Blondie. (152)

The album hit me with shock and awe. I still remember very precisely exactly where I was and what I was doing when I first heard it. HOG a truly epoch-defining song, and a worthy final winner of the Which Decade project. (Hedgie)

I'm almost tempted to revamp my comments on Fleetwood Mac's "Albatross" for this: another song that is just so intrinsically perfect that any attempt at objective commentary seems almost superfluous. Has pop music ever produced a line that bettered "riding high on love's true bluish light" for its marriage of ludicrous aspiration and sheer poetic delight? Unquestionably my favourite song of this entire run of Which Decade. (Hg)

Didn't they come up with this by mistake? I seem to remember that they envisaged this as a reggae song and we rescued by the producer? If that's true, then he certainly earned his fee, because this is a brilliant, timeless record that still shimmers as brightly as the day they first made it. (SwissToni)

I had a "thing" for Debbie too, Mike. Such an effortless voice. Nothing that isn't perfect about this performance, including her slightly awkward dancing, which I've always adored. (Z)

I will always turn up the volume when this track hits the radio. Perfect then, perfect now. (jo)

I've loved it since the moment it was released and still love it, unwaveringly. (Sue Bailey)

I can remember a friend showing me the album cover and saying " You have to hear this". He played Heart of Glass. It blew me away. It still does, a bit. (asta)

A stone-dead classic from one of the three ideal women of my teens, the others being Agnetha and a certain French teacher who turned up at our school when I was 14… (Erithian)

Blondie were something like magic, weren’t they – think of that in both the Glaswegian and Borgesian sense of “magic.” Only Kate Bush kept them from having a number one a year earlier with “Denis,” but it should be noted that despite four British Top 20 hits in 1978, as well as the pre-post-punk-pop phenomenon that was and is Parallel Lines, “Heart Of Glass” was their first American hit of any size (and it was of the same size as here). Like Hendrix, Debbie Harry had to prove herself abroad (in Australia , and then Britain ). Like the Boomtown Rats, Blondie gained a reputation as the new wave band it was permissible to like – Proper Tunes, and all that – but there was infinitely so much more to the group who barely three years previously had been forcibly ejected from CBGBs as hapless no-hopers by Patti Smith; Kim Fowley might have helped steer the Runaways, but although Blondie initially had an albatross of a manager around their neck (and who it cost them substantial monies to get rid of), Debbie Harry and Chris Stein were always in control musically.

The 1978 run of hits – “Denis,” “I’m Always Touched By Your Presence (Dear)” (that parenthesis! The gorgeous flow into French and back!), “Picture This” and “Hanging On The Telephone” – was an irresistible body of work; girl-group pop firmly in the Shadow Morton tradition but fired up with a spirit which was indelibly punk; it spat as it caressed. And Debbie Harry was equally irresistible, though I must say that she and Bush were the first major female chart regular for whom I did not harbour kinky fantasies (even though Kate spends much of The Kick Inside eulogising masturbation – “L’Amour Looks Something Like You”?) – rather, I felt a genuine, grown-up love and respect for them. Of course I responded to Debbie in the leather raincoat winking, “One way or another, I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha!” – ohhhh YES, come and get me – but it was a knowing wink, a do-right woman needing a do-right man, and all that, but also a residual feeling of wanting simply to have a drink with her in the pub. At fifteen, was I, heaven forbid, finally becoming An Adult?

But “Heart Of Glass” took everything forward, and in view of the foregoing paragraph I smile inwardly as I reintroduce the figure of Mike Chapman, who, specifically hired as a producer to make Blondie pop, tried to persuade Clem Burke that he didn’t have to impersonate Keith Moon at every single barline, cut down on the fussy frills but preserved the group’s intact spirit. It was only five years away from “ Devil Gate Drive ” and “Tiger Feet” but seemed to have stemmed from a completely new and different universe.

It wasn’t a simple case of Blondie “going disco” – rather, it was the mores of disco coming to them, and their reshaping them. “Heart Of Glass” has considerably more to do with the Bowie of Berlin than with anything going on in Studio 54 – though as usual we must overlook neither Moroder nor Kraftwerk. Its beat is minimal and processed (mostly it is Burke playing on the beat in tandem with a drum machine), its approach is clinical – subdued rhythmic lead guitar, glimpses of petrol station synthesisers, near-robotic Gregorian backing vocals – and it takes Debbie to make it human, though she still sounds encased within a primitive VDU. As with Madonna, one doubts whether the “Heart Of Glass” Blondie exists outside a wired-up terminal, but then that title is the clue; the song is about uncertainty within a relationship, condensed and controlled resentment (“Mucho mistrust, love’s gone behind”), about knowing that the love affair it’s deconstructing is a façade (“Lost inside adorable illusion and I cannot hide”), and yet still wanting to pull something human from the imminent wreckage (“Please don’t push me aside”).

In the end, though, resentment wins out over sorrow. “Once I had a love and it was a gas/Soon turned out to be a pain in the ass.” Debbie intones it as though flicking a half-inch of irritating ash off a thrice-smoked cigarette. Eventually, the words, and then the voice, disappear, leaving the beat to go on forever – Burke’s drums finally cutting moderately loose towards the end – and the beat was the key factor; the single version (especially the 12” mix) pushed the rhythm substantially forward, thereby emphasising the notion that we are dancing for no discernible reason, and that of course is usually the best reason. It was magisterial in its blue iciness; the lens of contact concealing the dried-up tears. (Marcello Carlin)

A song that sounds as if it could go on forever, and in fact pretty much has... (Lena)

This isn't their best song IMO, but it is so much better than anything by all but a couple of dozen. Probably my favourite of the whole 50. (Gert)

It's not Atomic, but it's close. (The Lurker)

2009: The Fear - Lily Allen. (108)

Lily didn’t win me over on her first outing, but this is fucking fantastic. Contrary to my previous comments about lyrics being superfluous, the words here are great - who would have thought we could have such sophisticated wit in a pop song these days? (Hedgie)

Precious few singles from the last couple of years will be remembered for long, but this deserves to be one of them. Sprightly, confident, witty, great production. I haven’t heard anyone mention this, but like her father she’s featuring in a number one video set in a house, a very big house in the country… (Erithian)

I think this will prove to be a modern classic. (Amanda)

Much the best thing she's ever done. (The Lurker)

Clever and sardonic and nicely delivered. I even like the glottal stops, but maybe I'm just in a good mood. Fuckloads of diamonds sound splendid. (Z)

"I am a weapon of massive consumption" Any lyrics I wish I'd written, get my points. (asta)

As the picture dulls and we are forced to drop the masks and, well, face up to being ourselves, “The Fear” summarises the regrowing darkness of 2009 as well as, well, “In A Lonely Place” did – for differing but related reasons – in 1981. Perhaps “In A Lonely Place” as Kim Wilde might have sung it, since there is a lot of Kim in Lily’s gleefully petrified vocal, the premature resignation glimpsed in “Water On Glass,” perhaps, or the grown-up child of “Child Come Away,” that eeriest and emptiest of 1982 singles which didn’t so much dodge as be dodged by the Top 40.

There’s also that PSB stateliness – how, 22 years after “Rent” and “Kings Cross,” could there not be? – and a hanging tang of Bananarama; the narrator of “Robert De Niro’s Waiting” who still won’t venture out of the house a quarter of a century later, at least not without a million masks to protect her. A Girls Aloud betrayed by bogus Promises – only just. And, in the midst of this Stygian calm of a bustle, there’s Lily, scared but still not deferent, working out that things can’t really be worked out.

As 2009 has compelled people to be people (why shouldn’t it be?) so a relatable Lily Allen has appeared and her chrysalis has turned out to be a fertile one; critically, It’s Not Me, It’s You works so well because she relaxes, holds back, even as her words are funny, scabrous, penetrating and frequently moving. It also bids the rest of us to pay due honour to Greg Kurstin – after what he’s done with Tash and Kylie, let alone Lowell George’s and Keith Allen’s daughters, how can his New Pop genius be further denied? – who sketches and colours Lily’s thoughts, reckless putdowns and thoughtful fuck-yous (even if “Fuck You” has been overtaken by events, it’s still one of the sparkliest of recent New Pop songs), mirrors her tears and suns up her laughs.

But here she is on “The Fear,” the computer and processed acoustic guitar ticking gently towards meltdown, caught between the wish still to be celebrating her things (that deathly ambiguous “fucking fantastic” strategically placed in the last line of the second verse) and the underlying knowledge and desire that everything really must go. She’ll go on banging her head against the fuckloaded diamond-studded wall while simultaneously figuring out a battering ram of escape. “And I am a weapon of massive consumption/And it’s not my fault – it’s how I’m programmed to function” recalls yet another 1981, of course, that of Solid Gold and Penthouse And Pavement, the fear (coupled with nascent pre-apocalypse excitement) that took a generation to spread down South, but just as Kim (and Marty and Ricky) co-opted “Shot By Both Sides” and turned it into pop with “Chequered Love,” Lily sounds absolutely naturalistic, her dread awkwardly touchable. The gold of autumn rays returning; the air knowing that this has to be taken down, all of it, so that we might know what is right (never to be confused with Right) and real once more. (Marcello Carlin)

I thought I didn't like Lily Allen. In fact I seem to remember leaving a bit of a snide comment about her somewhere on a web log. I was wrong, and I now find that I am a bit in love with her. (JonnyB)

The fact that I actually thought about putting this above "Heart of Glass" tells you quite how good this song is. I loved it when I first heard it, then it grated and I thought it wasn't half as clever as it thought it was, then I decided that actually, in spite of all that, it's just a fantastic record. Adele made an interesting comment about Lily Allen the other day actually, she said that she was always the most likely of the Brit School to be famous, and that everyone was so relieved when she made it.... as though she was somehow destined for this. I'm not sure I like her personally, but why should she care about that if she keeps churning out records like this one. Shame the rest of her output rips other people off quite so shamelessly. Have you heard the one that sounds just like Take That's Shine? Dear oh dear. (SwissToni)

Lily is the surprise for me - at the time (of Smile) I tired easily of her voice and became frustrated at her omnipresence - I lived outside of the modern pop world and yet I knew her, recognised her and became annoyed by her. The Fear is really good - sure the bshh-tss-tss-tss backing is annoying but the song is great and the delivery smart. (Andy)

Sure, she can be annoying. Yes, the voice is sweet, but the whispered delivery can get tiring. But she's one witty bitch. (jo)

Brill. She is irritating though, and no matter how good her songs are, that prevents me from fully embracing them. Mean, aren't I. (Lizzy)

I think I liked her first album better. Musically her later stuff is more sophisticated and appealing, but I worry that this apparently edgy social satire occasionally borders on Kaiser Chiefs let's-all-laugh-at-the-chavs territory. The jury's out... for now. (Hg)

Not unpleasant. I'm hardly desperate to rush out to a record shop and buy it, though. (Gert)

1989: Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart - Marc Almond featuring Gene Pitney. (85)

Although he was still registering Top 40 entries as late as 1974, the original "Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart" was Gene Pitney's last UK top ten hit, reaching #5 at the tail end of 1967; fittingly, since the song seemed to provide his tortured story with a belated happy ending - and where else was there to go from there?

From "Town Without Pity" via "24 Hours From Tulsa" to "Backstage (I'm Lonely)," Pitney as a balladeer (as opposed to Pitney as a rocker, who did exist but hardly registered with British audiences) was never allowed to be happy; ignoble defeat in love and life was his thing, his tarnished beauty mark. Something like "I'm Gonna Be Strong," one of his biggest records (#2 in the autumn of 1964), manages even to outdo Orbison's "It's Over" in its slow-dawning realisation that all is ash. When Frankie Laine recorded the song to Jack Nitzsche's arrangement the previous year, he maintained poise and stalwartness; but Pitney made his voice move up, along with the chords ascending to his private hell, on the final extended "cry" (and thus was the missing link between Johnnie Ray and Godley and Creme). In addition, his high-pitched androgynous voice suggested other subtexts; the about turn in " Tulsa " has been interpreted in gay terms, though the happily-married grandfather Pitney would good-naturedly scoff at such a thought.

When Marc Almond came to tackle the song, it had been some five years since Soft Cell had fallen apart. Since then he had seldom troubled the Top 40 but had reined back on the life-threatening excesses of Soft Cell's later days to reinvent himself as a respected songwriter and nearly matchless song interpreter (see, for instance, his 1987, lyrically unaltered reading of Cher's "A Woman's Story") and established a comfortable and loyal cult following. In the wake of Nick Cave's recording of "Something's Gotten Hold" on his 1986 covers album Kicking Against The Pricks, Almond was inspired to have a go and, idolising Pitney, made overtures towards him to contribute at least some backing vocals to the track. Since Pitney's teenage daughter's bedroom was at the time covered with posters and pictures of Almond and Soft Cell, he didn't need much persuading, and suggested turning the track into a full-blown duet.

It's significant that "Something's Gotten Hold" surfaced at the end of 1967, since it was one of several ballads of the period tinged with hazes of the remnants of psychedelia (though its writers, Roger Cook and Roger Greenaway, were quick to dismiss any notion of its being a drug song) - "painting my sleep with a colour so bright," "turning me up, turning me down" - but it was also ideal as a "happy ending" for Pitney, since his slightly fearful delivery on the original record suggests that he's been down and beaten for so long that love now appears to him as something alien and frightening - note the "cutting its way through my dreams like a knife" and especially "dragging my soul to a beautiful land" as though he has to be frogmarched back to happiness, rather than walking back.

Listening to Almond's demo, Pitney was hugely impressed by the modifications which Almond had made to the song's delivery, particularly the extending of "grey" and "blue" to three syllables apiece and the "you! You! YOU!" triplet at the song's climax ("He's made the song more singable," Pitney said at the time). With this in mind he charges into the second verse, providing authority to underline Almond's innocence, and is always prodding and supporting when he is not actually coming forward. He sounded more alive than he'd done for years.

Overall, the Almond/Pitney "Something's Gotten Hold" was a dream of a record, in the Frankie "Power Of Love" sense; as with the latter, producer Stephen Hague builds it up in layers of angel wings, and aided by the sumptuously relevant string arrangement, the record seems to ebb, flow and peak in total concord with the two singers. Its triumph was a late miracle for New Pop, but also New Pop's own "happy ending"; its magic had been acknowledged by, and absorbed into, the continuum of history, such that New Pop now formed part of the basic fabric of pop music as a whole. It was its ultimate, and nearly perfect, blessing. (Marcello Carlin)

I was so shocked when this came out; what was Marc Almond doing singing with an old man?!?!?!? Reluctantly liked it then: bloody love it now. As you say, perfect voice pairing. (Sue Bailey)

A rare example of a cover version that doesn't trash the original. (The Lurker)

I love the contrast between their voices. I suggested to my then boyfriend this could be Our Tune; he said he hated it. We split up soon after. It is a good song well performed. What more do you want? (Gert)

This is where the arrival of Youtube has it all over a small sample. I have no history with this song at all. The first few opening bars left me wondering how this ever got to number one status, but then it opens up and the contrast between the two voices is just magic. Three points seems meager. (asta)

Ooh, the old drama queen.... and Marc Almond. The production is unmistakeably 80s, but the quality of the song (and the singing) shines clearly through that to make this plenty worth listening to. Would have been better with a little less Pitney and a little more Almond, for me. (SwissToni)

While always gorgeous, it sometimes seemed slightly over-produced. I like it when people don't seem to be trying so hard. (Z)

I dunno exactly what it is that's always bothered me about this song, but something's missing. Too formulaic, maybe, albeit not a common pop formula. A brilliant song, but with a vague hint of ham. That might be it, in fact: the whiff of Andrew Lloyd-Webber in the background. (Hg)

1999: Maria - Blondie. (76)

Watching the BBC’s Omnibus documentary on Blondie a little while back was a sobering and slightly dispiriting experience since Debbie Harry made absolutely no bones about the group’s less than neat dissolution in 1982 and the awful afterlife. The initial split coincided with, and may have been partially provoked by, Chris Stein’s prolonged and debilitating illness; when Harry checked the group’s accounts as preparation for taking a long-term sabbatical to look after him she was horrified to find that she and Stein were close to broke; ripped off by a manager they were too scared/couldn’t afford to fire, practically none of the royalties due them had come their way or had been siphoned off elsewhere. Thus began a long and weary course of legal action and concomitant penury; in the documentary Harry betrays nuances of years unspeakable in their quietened horror. Upon Stein’s recovery in 1985 Harry essentially worked to assignment for the best part of the following decade, quietly building up a parallel reputation as a film actress, issuing occasional, modestly successful solo records (Rockbird, Def Dumb And Blonde) with an eye on the bills and a heart not in it, and venturing out to do what she really wanted, as long-term vocalist with the Jazz Passengers.

Eventually the legal battles were won and the royalties finally reached their intended pockets; furthermore, regular compilations and reissues kept the Blondie name buoyant, not to mention the band and Harry in particular being repeatedly cited as an inspiration by seemingly every indie group with a feisty female lead singer. Towards the end of the nineties Harry, Stein, Clem Burke and Jimmy Destri, now feeling up for it again, opted to regroup under the Blondie name and a new album was recorded. “Maria” was its lead single, and if there were ever more uncomplicated and genuine goodwill bestowed on any pop artist’s comeback record I must have missed it. Twenty years after “Heart Of Glass” and just over eighteen years after their last number one, they were back – and the magic and relief are evident in every second of the single.

Debbie was by now 53, and so Cher ’s record as the oldest female artist to reach number one was very shortlived indeed – but both triumphs were richly deserved. Her voice was now slightly deeper and more lived in but its fluidity and flexibility was as evident as ever; note the six different meanings she can produce from the expression “ooh” throughout the song – her “ooh, it makes you wanna die” bears an innate sensuality which is more than merely admirable and her fainting “fool” in the phrase “Fool for love” is the kind of element which defies any art of timing. Although some of the song refers back to previous Blondie works – it wasn’t the first time she’d used the expression “walking on imported air” for instance – its undiminished rush is irresistible; the old parable of sex magnet as object of worship (“Latina! Ave Maria!/A million and one candlelights!”) is beautifully wrought (the counterbalancing “Go insane and out of your mind”) with all their best elements intact; the descending peal of bells on the second chorus onwards, the fancy drum fill which Clem can’t resist inserting into the fadeout. The girl had reclaimed her power. (Marcello Carlin)

That rattling intro, the soaring vocal – very much there on its own merits. Blondie are still stonking live too, and their newer material stacks up pretty well alongside the oldies. (Erithian)

I love what happened to Debbie Harry's voice. Not as good as Heart of Glass, but damn close. (Sue Bailey)

I can barely remember this, and being up against HofG doesn't do it any favours, but it's surely so much better than all the rest of 1999. (Gert)

Actually, this stands up fairly well. I think I like it more now than when it first came out. Still nowhere near the heights achieved in 1979, but a creditable effort nevertheless. (Hedgie)

She's got a fantastic, fantastic voice - I love the way it just LAUNCHES. But I always found this a bit 'pub band' in its arrangement. A bit 'Debbie Harry with Blondie (featuring original members)' rather than 'Blondie'. Debbie, please forgive me. (JonnyB)

Also more of a UK hit than a North American one, perfectly good and I wish I could give it more... (Lena)

Ah Debbie, how the vocal chords can change. Still, I'd listen. (jo)

Fine, just not great, and the others are. I still love Debbie's voice in it, but I can't remember the song and I've just played it four times. (Z)

Would never have been a number 1 hit for a band with no back history. (diamond geezer)

I watched Blondie's so-called comeback with no small measure of confusion because I never saw a live performance where Deb looked as if she was the least bit interested. She couldn't even summon the cool disdain she so brilliantly displayed in the early years. This song is similarly devoid of energy or commitment. (asta)

Always really disappointing. Her voice sounds great, but the music & lyrics are identikit new-wave verging on soft rock. Listening to this just reminds me exactly how special Blondie's "classic" period was. I was utterly obsessed by Eat To The Beat for a very long time. (Hg)

Efficient and an acceptable-ish comeback, I suppose. But those awful cynical christmassy church bells? They pull back the curtain and show the wizard of Oz for what he really is. They should have left well alone because they were perfect, dammit. (SwissToni)

1969:(If Paradise Is) Half As Nice - Amen Corner. (59)

Good, albeit sounds like it was done by the Small Faces (or did they sound like this? Or did everything sound like this in 1969?). I recognised the song, even if I didn't know the band. That's not bad after 40 years, is it? (SwissToni)

I'd always wondered if the Amen Corner song was the original, or the Italian version, but given how often Il Paradiso still gets played (or was last year when I was in Torino) on non-oldies Italian radio, I'd even thought it was a modern re-working! (Adrian)

I don’t hate this at all and it must be more-or-less a classic given that it has lodged itself vaguely in my consciousness; but it’s up against quite stiff competition. (Hedgie)

It's a 1969 song with a 1967 arrangement. (JonnyB)

I keep hearing Frankie Valli singing "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You. There's something in the melody that takes me right off into that song. Sorry. (asta)

The one disappointment of the five. (The Lurker)

Quite apart from any musical quibbles, the thing that lets this down is the description of paradise as something that is potentially "nice". I'm not one of those people who has an issue with "nice" per se; in certain contexts, no other word will do. This is absolutely not one of them. (Hg)

Andy and his blathering on about Paradise does nada to convince me either of his happiness, and what if Paradise is only 1/3 as nice? 1/4?... (Lena)

Oh vision, deliver me from phalanxes of well-intentioned journeymen! Do I sound exhausted? Perhaps there's a limit to how many nice little R&B bands turned teen idols one can take in the course of a lifetime. Amen Corner, as their name might suggest, were a pretty respected white soul group from Cardiff , though only their introductory hit, 1967's "Gin House Blues," gives you even the remotest idea of what that might have sounded like. Otherwise it was on to two years of moderately sunny pop - "Bend Me, Shape Me" (considerably de-weirded from the American Breed original), "High In The Sky" - and "Half As Nice" was their apex.

One can understand the little-boy-lost appeal of the strangulated whine of tiny, floppy-haired 18-year-old singer Andy Fairweather-Low; and the band performs the song with commendable gusto, complete with mock-Stax horns balanced by a funereal, hymn-like organ drone (with occasional comments on harpsichord) from keyboardist Blue Weaver. But the song itself is rank; a mundane Italian Eurohit with clumsy English lyrics appended. What breath be there of 1969 sex when the horn lines are answered by lines such as, "When you are around/My heart always pounds/Just like a brass band"? Brass band? Maybe that simply delineates insoluble differences between American and British pop; over there you have the Fifth Dimension singing and sounding like adults who've just learned to be children again ("Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In," number one for five weeks in the USA at this time), and in dearer, older "I'm Backing Britain" (over a cliff?) Britain it's a kid vainly trying to become an adult. With a brass band.

Fairweather-Low, as you might expect, went on to a blameless career, releasing some interesting mainstream soft-rock records in the mid-'70s before settling down as a session guitarist for hire (Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, Tina Turner, Bill Wyman's Rhythm Kings, and other veterans of his era). Pardon me if I momentarily passed out somewhere between the words "interesting" and "mainstream" there. Thankfully, in 1969 number one terms, things now started to get a little less brass band and a lot more interesting. (Marcello Carlin)

Decade scores so far (after 9 days).
1 (1) The 1960s (33)
2 (2) The 2000s (29)
3 (3) The 1970s (28)
4 (3) The 1980s (25)
5 (5) The 1990s (20)

1969: Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Peter Sarstedt. (video)
1979: Chiquitita - Abba. (video)
1989: Belfast Child - Simple Minds. (video)
1999: You Don't Know Me - Armand Van Helden featuring Duane Harden. (video)
2009: Just Dance - Lady GaGa featuring Colby O'Donis. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Twos.

1969: Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Peter Sarstedt. (118)

Absurd. I Love it. The most inauthentic bogus frenchman ever? (SwissToni)

Absurd? You might not wear diamonds and pearls in your hair, but some of us did. In our younger days. Well, diamonds and sapphires. Anyway, I still love the song after all these years. (Z)

This is one of my desert island discs. Lovely yummy 60s nonsense. (Sue Bailey)

Oh, how lovely to hear this again. Amazing how something so seemingly corny stands up after all the years. (NiC)

Makes me want to hop onto a Eurostar right now. (diamond geezer)

Sarstedt gets the 5 almost entirely for the "just for fun, for a laugh, a-ha-ha-ha" line which has always brought a smile to my face every time I've heard it. (Andy)

The evocative references are a script for a 60s movie. Who might have thought this song was about them? As we discussed on Popular, one theory is that it was Sophia Loren. Some said the narrator is a bit of a bastard, but the bitterness of the old friend left behind by the social climber is well drawn. (Erithian)

The ultimate name-dropping song set to a waltz rhythm. (Amanda)

Historic and iconic, but probably doesn't bear too much analysis. A kitch classic. (Hedgie)

Husband has now been singing this around the house for days, yes he has. (jo)

I have a feeling if I listened to this more it would start to irritate me, but at the moment novelty lets it win. (The Lurker)

I'm struggling with its rather mannered performance, but nevertheless there's something evocative and memorable about this. Mind you, I'd be happy never to hear it again. (Hg)

I'm conflicted on this one. I oughtn't to like it, there's nothing special about the tune. His voice has just a bit of personality. But there is something haunting and evocative about it. I didn't know it until the 80s and at the time it summoned an aura of 60s jet set glamour which I thought at the time was enviable. (Gert)

When I first heard the Bonzos' "My Pink Half Of The Drainpipe" as a child, with its pompous stentorian baritone vocal and gloriously out-of-tune accordion, I immediately assumed that it was a parody of "Where Do You Go To, My Lovely?" In fact, it predated the latter song by nearly a year; so both songs appear to have been calculated responses to the impact of Jacques Brel, mixed with a little pre-motorcycle accident Dylan bitterness. Some untidy commentators have even gone as far as describing Sarstedt's song as a British "Like A Rolling Stone," which is rather like saying that "I Predict A Riot" is Britain's "Louie Louie."

There was a BBC TV special to tie in with the record, entitled On Cool: The Thoughts And Attitudes Of A Contemporary Songwriter, and the first song he sang on the show was "Take Off Your Clothes." That perhaps should already be more than enough information than is strictly needed. However, Sarstedt was faintly rugged in appearance and sensitive in sound - somewhere between Jason King and Cat Stevens, but with a better-maintained tan and a sharper bush to his moustache. His elder brother Richard, you may recall, had had a number one back in 1961 as Eden Kane ("Well I Ask You") - so again the '60s wheel turns full circle.

"Where Do You Go To" was yet another attempt at an epic pop song - once again, the single broke the five-minute barrier - and acts as a fairly snide putdown of an uppity rich girl whom the protagonist happens to have known from their jointly impoverished childhood. It also serves as a handbook of slightly-past-their-sell-by-date 1969 chic signifiers - Sacha Distel, Zizi Jeanmaire, Marlene Dietrich, the Sorbonne, the Aga Khan, Picasso - things and people considered "in" by weathered sixtysomething Monaco bankers, or traitors in exile. The woman is named at the song's climax as "Marie-Claire," which may simply be a pre-postmodern reference to the magazine - some say the song is about Sophia Loren and her recidivist father, others, pointing to the reference to "your Rolling Stones records," contend that the subject is Bianca Jagger.

The performance attempts to be earnest, with its closely miked 12-string acoustic and double bass, but Sarstedt never appears to be anything other than cynical and somewhat spiteful; he seems not so much to judge the surface futility of her life, but destructively envious ("Your body is firm and inviting/But you live on a glittering stage") and, when referring to the racehorse the Aga Khan buys her for Christmas, becomes openly mocking (that mirthless "hahahaha"). He claims to "know what's inside your head.../When you're alone in your bed" but comes across as more of a stalker. (Marcello Carlin)

What a load of pretentious faux sophisticated Euro references jammed through a not particularly appealing voice. I gave it a point for the hilarious clunker "You get an even sun tan. On your back. On your legs." (asta)

The worst song about Eurotrash ever? I understand he has better songs, but really just about anything else he ever did HAS to be better than this, on principle.xz

An interminable gloat. (Billy Smart)

1979: Chiquitita - Abba. (116)

Utopian and expansive endless Euro singalong. (Billy Smart)

I bought this with 11th birthday money. Quite a pop tart I was by then. Strange that I still expect it to jump at the bit where the record's scratched. Notwithstanding Andrea (my best friend) pointing out that Terry Wogan used to sing along 'Take Your Teeth Out Put them Back In Again' to the closing piano, it is a seriously good song. It's Abba, what more can one say! (Gert)

Not one of their best, admittedly, but many of their characteristic strengths are on display: the oddly literate/stilted lyrics ("you're enchained by your own sorrow"), the killer melody, the occasional weirdness nagging away in the background. Sinead O'Connor did a more laid-back version, which replaced the hackneyed Seventies oompah beat with a hint of sparkly Irish dub and revealed its fragile, optimistic heart a little more clearly. (Hg)

Despite the Spanish name this is more Greek than Hispanic with its prominent bouzouki accompaniment. (Amanda)

Not their best, but that still means it's brilliant. (diamond geezer)

Not my favourite Abba song. But IT'S ABBA!! How can you not love it? (Sue Bailey)

Might well be my least favourite Abba song, but one cannot deny it has qualities and so on. (Simon C)

Not very good for Abba but would be pretty acceptable from anyone else. (Z)

I am surprised I am marking this so low. It's certainly not anywhere near their best, but still a song most bands could only wish was in their back catalogue. (Hedgie)

I'm generally not one for "ABBA love," I've never taken that whole untouchable/perfect-pop respect they have and without that millstone Chiquitita seemed OK. (Andy)

Not too much to say about this except I first saw them perform this on a big budget TV special which seemed to have something to do with the United Nations. As I’ve said many times elsewhere, the campfire-strumming/Seekers-referencing/vaguely political subtexting Abba are my least favourite Abba manifestation (and no, my favourite Abba manifestation are not the damaged/divorced/Visitors model but the supremely sexy, feline, cocksure, pop-merrily-reinventing/resurrecting Abba – “WALKING in the moonlight?” Yeah, right!) so while this is decent enough it scarcely stopped the 1979 clock from ticking. (Marcello Carlin)

I'm interested that there's so much faint praise above. I can't see that this is anything other than a perfect classic-era Euro(vision) pop song. It's got an absolutely killer chorus, the usual clever, perfect harmonies, lovely little breaks, and that bit at the end where you think it's finished - badang! - it's started again! Which has become a cliche I know, but is still stupidly fantastic. (JonnyB)

I keep thinking this is some kind of Chiquita banana commercial gone horribly wrong.xz

Political ABBA is just silly. I don't care if this was their biggest South American hit.. It stinks.Like an old banana. (asta)

I fucking loathe Abba. I just can't abide them. This isn't even one of the good ones. No, no, no, no, no. Sweet Jesus, why is Mama Mia the most popular film of all time? Is that not a living symbol of all that is wrong with the world and why mankind is doomed? (SwissToni)

2009: Just Dance - Lady GaGa featuring Colby O'Donis. (105)

She's perfect, isn't she? She's like a bonkers art project that the kids don't quite understand as they dance to the strange lady's hit record. Forget Gaga, if you can, the song is a work of supremely efficient genius, isn't it? (SwissToni)

She's caught in a trap, but does she want to walk out? The strobes are flashing a little too rapidly to allow comfort ("Can't find my drink or man/Where are my keys? I lost my 'phone") but she clings onto the music like the surest of lifeboats, that quare fellow of elegant Doric arches of 1981 news bulletin synthesisers kissing the caramelised crunch of 1985-pressured rock (snare that Poisoning reference to "Every Rose Has Its Thorn"). "I love this record baby, but I can't see straight anymore." What was so great about straight, anyway?

Meanwhile, her man, or a man, anyway, is similarly stumbling in an anti-thrust throttle in a different corner of the room, or perhaps a quarter of an inch away from her ("checkin' out that catalogue"). They are both being swamped by the whirlpool of raved-over confusion but the load is also keeping them buoyant; everything, but everything, including life, is powered, depends upon, that music: "Just dance" she keeps urging in a "keep breathing" way, the semi-reversed cymballic thuds bouncing towards and into their lungs.

The setting is somewhere between the disorientation of the Streets' "Blinded By The Lights" - minus the fatal fuelled resentment - and the awakened nightmare of Sing-Sing's "Going Out Tonight" with a tinge of "Dance Wiv Me." Unlike the Sing-Sing song, though, there will be no grievous denouement - "There's no reason, I understand why you can't leave here with me" - and unlike the Dizzee/Calvin song everyone is gathered in a mutually understanding union; the world outside is closing in on them and they have to pull together, dragging back the bitonal jewels of that sublime DAF breakdown towards song's end; "Spin that record round." "Gonna be okay." The message unchanged; only when we're dancing can we see what it means to be free; swim to the surface, bids the African-American, view the blue of water and sky and remember how hard we fought to wear this suit and be immaculate. (Marcello Carlin)

Is she a Madonna for the noughties with her brand of tuneful, danceable pop? (Amanda)

5 points. What can I say, I got this before she was big here (back when I was in Toronto) and my hunch about her was right; the new Madonna, more or less.xz

All the muffin talk aside, I think she's the perfect mirror of the moment. She could be singing about Lindsay Lohan, or Lily Allen, or a whole host of former Bear Stearns employees at a club frantically trying to keep reality at bay. Who knows, given the times, in a few weeks, it could be me. (asta)

This sort of thing isn’t usually my cup of tea, but it’s as original as dance (or “dy-ance”) records get and I can more than put up with it. (Erithian)

Proving that British music won't be running out of originality for a long time yet. (diamond geezer)

Shouldn't like it, but I do. Catchy, zippy and I can listen to it without knowing whether she's wearing pants or not. (jo)

I'm sorry I am putting this low, because I want it to be higher to prove I don't detest the Noughties. It could have been top in a different slot. (Gert)

Good for what it is, which is formulaic and not here to stay. (Simon C)

Dance music gets a real bum deal from me in this contest. Cos I do love it, when I'm a bit off my face and on a dance floor. But I listen to these on a laptop, at my kitchen table. Where things like Peter Sarstedt sound better. (JonnyB)

I quite like this right now, but I confidently predict I will be so sick of it by the end of next week. (Sue Bailey)

I really loathe her to an extent I haven't managed since Westlife, which is saying something. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

Junk-food music. Banal, soulless, superficial, cynical, over-hyped, autotuned, play-it-by-numbers, self-regarding nonsense. (Hg)

1999: You Don't Know Me - Armand Van Helden featuring Duane Harden. (90)

It could be said that House music never really went away, of course; it laid low for awhile, quietly took notice of the world spinning around it, refreshed itself and came back. Two years after his stellar remix of “Professional Widow,” Armand returned to the top with a dance record which gave an early signal of an extremely popular trend in 21st-century number ones; a pounding but elastic beat, still recognisably Deep House, but bearing a palpably major influence from the French beatmasters – see not only “Music Sounds Better With You” but also things like Alan Braxe and Fred Falke’s “Intro,” whose lynchpin is the midsong acappella break from the Jets’ eighties hit “Crush On You” – producing a panoramic dance tableau which morphs in and out of recognisability but always bears a suitably soulful lead vocal on top.

This time the break was provided by Cheryl Lynn ("Dance With U" - not an answer record to Reginald Bosanquet's "Dance With Me"), and Harden’s vocal seems to have been more or less entirely improvised on the spur of the moment in reaction to van Helden’s backing track. Certainly his words are anything but friendly; his is an exquisitely painful and righteously angry denunciation of those who seek to “judge my life” and “pulling me down” every time he tries to “move on up.” It’s rather like a rougher variant on Alexander O’Neal’s “Criticize” – “No happiness in their own lives/So they act out all their jealousies” – and Harden proffers some fiery growls on the “gotta” of “I gotta be strong” and the final, exasperated “Anything I try to do!” One could extrapolate a cry on behalf of House itself, suddenly reminding everyone of its continued existence (Harden’s carefully modulated tenor is similar to Robert Owens’), and indeed “You Don’t Know Me” lays the public foundations for some of my favourite number ones of recent times. Stand up for your right to jack! (Marcello Carlin)

Because I don't know this song, it's fresh to me. I can imagine playing this at the end of the week, perhaps before heading out to the Lady Ga Ga club. Unlike Just Dance, I can't remember a single lyric, but I'd still play it more than once. (asta)

This doesn't have any particular cultural resonance for me. I vaguely remember it, but haven't heard it for years. Sounds pretty good now: a bit wonky, a bit counter-intuitive. (Hg)

If this had been in the No 3s list, it would have been top. (diamond geezer)

Still sounds box fresh to me! (Hedgie)

Still gets me twitching, but it sounds rather functional ten years on. (Billy Smart)

Not my bag at all, but you can't deny that the choon has lasted pretty handily and sounds reasonably fresh today, for all of its overexposure. (SwissToni)

I was expecting what I now realise is U Don't Know Me with Basement Jaxx, which is much better. (Simon C)

I liked it the first time, and the second but not the third. I had to listen again to be sure. Could you have a more dutiful voter? (Z)

Wanted to like this way more than I did; puzzled at ongoing Radio 1 playlist ubiquity, but maybe I'd just stopped clubbing quite so much. (Matthew)

Maybe I need to hear this in its proper setting (a nightclub) but it doesn’t do anything for me coming out of my computer speakers in my spare bedroom. (Amanda)

Quite amusing the first million times I heard it. Probably still quite amusing if I were off my tits on something. But I don't do that any more, so... meh. (Sue Bailey)

I think this was one of the first tracks to use that soon-to-be-ubiquitous effect that sounds like a chewed-up cassette tape. Yuk. (Erithian)

Boring. Unpleasant to the ears. So disco hadn't moved on in the 20 years since Leif Garrett. (Gert)

Generic floorfiller, than loses any goodwill through the lyrics - the classic whine of the me generation. It's almost enough to make me start reading the Daily Mail. (The Lurker)

1989: Belfast Child - Simple Minds. (51)

Yes it’s bombastic, portentous, even a mite pretentious. And yes I’ve never been too fond of Jim Kerr since a Q&A session on an 80s TV show where he talked about sneaking into gigs as a youngster and then rounded on a kid who asked about high ticket prices for Simple Minds gigs with the words “Find another hobby”. But the ambition, atmosphere and sheer scale of this record do win me over. (Erithian)

Ahem, my 16 year-old self bought this. I find the insanely overblown nature of this unheathily compelling... (Billy Smart)

4 points. Oh I can hear the guffawing now. Heard in context within Street Fighting Years it is a lot more understandable than it is by itself. And since I listened to that non-stop in '89, that's how I'm voting.xz

3 points. Blimey - did I really type that? I - ummm - well I haven't heard it for years and just thought it sounded a bit - magnificent in its way? Perhaps a victim of its own subject matter. They should have written about wholes of moons and it would still be getting played. (JonnyB)

In the late 80s I was seriously into Simple Minds, and thought that this had a haunting quality about it. I have to say it hasn't stood the test of time, and it sounds too much like rip-off U2. Still, it's better than a lot of the dross that one has had to endure in previous numbers! (Gert)

On paper, it looked like “we” had won; Marc Almond at number one, followed by Simple Minds at number one - Simple Minds, moreover, produced by Trevor Horn. Hadn't this been the plan all along? Well, yes...but not like this. Not this way...and besides, on examination of the credits to the Street Fighting Years album, we find, in fashionable lower capitals: "produced by stephen lipson and trevor horn"...and the anecdotal evidence points to Lipson having done most of the work (I’m actually prepared, on reflection, to offer a sterling defence of that album when Then Play Long eventually gets round to it; it’s just a shame that here I have to deal with its worst three tracks).

The venerable folk song "She Moved Through The Fair" seemed to have returned into fashion in 1988; All About Eve covered it on their first album, but the really remarkable reading was that given by Van Morrison and the Chieftains on Irish Heartbeat - floating above out-of-tempo drone strings, Morrison muses and chews on the words, finally surrendering to beyond-language babbles of pure sound; it is extremely reminiscent of the holy first half of side three of Keith Tippett's Frames, and you want it to go on forever.

Jim Kerr wrote new lyrics to the tune and retitled it "Belfast Child" - the lead track of the E.P. - but typically then proceeds to batter it to death with his stadium rock steamhammer. Clocking in at over six-and-a-half minutes, "Belfast Child" is the kind of epic which has to wear its gigantic EPIC badge on its aircraft hangar lapel, much like the office joker feels obliged to wear a gigantic I'M MAD ME badge. Blustering between ill-defined dynamics and absurd, non-committal nursery rhyme lyrics, the Irish Question, which Simple Minds had never previously addressed, not even obliquely, was a clear excuse for Kerr to make his final assault on Being Bono. As he repeatedly howls "THE STREETS ARE EMPTY!" over Charlie Burchell's Dire Straits guitar, one waits in vain for the red flag to be unfurled and for the amplifiers to be ascended. Ultimately it is the post-New Pop equivalent of Wings' "Give Ireland Back To The Irish" - but at least the absurd, well-meaning McCartney had a specific point to make. Or does Kerr's plaintive belching of "Come back Bill-Y!" and "Come back Mar-Y!" suggest the proposed waving of an orange flag?

The remaining two tracks are little better. "Mandela Day" is a coarser rewrite of 1981's immortal "Seeing Out The Angel," sacrificing all its mystery and subtlety for yet more simplistic yea-saying regarding "25 years ago this very day" and "they took That Man away" (actually, as recording for the album commenced in March 1988, it would have been at least 27 years any very day, but anyway...). Peter Gabriel's "Biko" meanwhile gets buried in interminable avalanches of repetitive roaring and singularly inappropriate bagpipe fanfares; compared to the restrained heartbreak of Robert Wyatt's minimalist reading of the same song (released on a 12-inch Rough Trade E.P. in 1984) - complete with Wyatt's still fresh and painful memories of his friend Mongezi Feza, whose lifespan was more or less the same as Steve Biko's and whose end was, many say, caused by the same factors - Kerr's bloated buffalo of a cover version is positively an insult.

Still, the E.P. became their first, and to date only, number one; their new mass audience wanted that bluster, big gestures on big screens, the new gold dream long having rusted into unfeasible copper. Yes, Simple Minds got to the top, as they had wished, but the victory was Pyrrhic and the price they paid – well, could it ever be refunded or restored? Check out Neapolis a decade later for some surprising answers. (Marcello Carlin)

Sounds like something tacked on the end of a song for the purposes of extending it for live performance rather than the song itself. (Amanda)

I like this much less than I did when it came out. Dull, generic, worthy. Boring. (Sue Bailey)

This is a totally unconvincing Irish lament. The melody form is there, somewhere, under the layers of production and the lyrics have some strength, but it's incredibly stilted and devoid of real emotion. I had to go off an listen to a tin whistle recording of Turas Go Tir Na Nog just to get rid of the aural residue from this one. (asta)

This got to number 2? Astonishing. It is dreadful, all five minutes and whatever interminable seconds of it. (Z)

The sort of overblown stadium pomp that U2 are usually guilty of. (diamond geezer)

Gives stadium rock a bad name. (The Lurker)

Hilarious at the time, in its strain to be U2. (Matthew)

Wanna be. Why they would wanna be i don't know, but obviously they do. (jo)

Just awful. A confused and derivative mess. (Hedgie)

Utter toss. I loved the heady whirl of Up On The Catwalk, but this is just mawkish, misguided sentimentality of the worst kind. (Hg)

I used to think I secretly quite liked a bit of Simple Minds. This is rubbish. (Stereoboard)

Ah. Another band I loathe for their stupid fake sincerity and portentious sense of significance and their own self-importance. So full of themselves that you can even hear it on record. Rubbish. Total guff. (SwissToni)

I may loathe Lady Gaga, but she's still better than this shit. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

Decade scores so far (after 8 days).
1 (1) The 1960s (28)
2 (1) The 2000s (26)
3= (4) The 1970s (24)
3= (1) The 1980s (24)
5 (5) The 1990s (18)

1969: I'm Gonna Make You Love Me - Diana Ross & The Supremes & The Temptations. (video)
1979: Woman In Love - The Three Degrees. (video)
1989: Love Changes Everything - Michael Ball. (video)
1999: Fly Away - Lenny Kravitz. (video)
2009: Breathe Slow - Alesha Dixon. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Threes.

1969: I'm Gonna Make You Love Me - Diana Ross & The Supremes & The Temptations. (139)

Classic, obv. Gently, subtly brilliant. (SwissToni)

My sister had the Motown Chartbusters albums so I was kind of indoctrinated into this sort of thing. Quality. (Erithian)

Still classically lovely after all these years. Beats any of those ridiculous boy girl group mash-ups any day. (jo)

A mercenary exercise in branding & synergy. Wins by virtue of being the best song. (Billy Smart)

I like both groups a great deal but together they were pretty mediocre. Even so, 5. (Dymbel)

I don't really want to put it this high because the chorus is such a disappointment, but then the verses are great. (Simon C)

Not the best from this stable. It is embedded in that part of my memory reserved for tunes absorbed effortlessly as a result of many hearings when young. All the different elements add up to a text book 'good song' but it doesn't quite do it for me. (Gert)

From the album which kept Tommy off number one in the UK album charts and a bit slushy and frankly more than a bit creepy. Cabaret time despite or because of “Love Child” and “Cloud Nine.” (Marcello Carlin)

Great artists; terrible off-key falsetto passage that’s supposed to sound ecstatic but just sounds awful. (Amanda)

I remembered this as so much better. Disappointing. (Z)

Barrel scraping from artists who really should do much better. (NiC)

Geoffrey Boycott's mum could have sung it better, but why bother? It's not a great song. (JonnyB)

Proving that 3× the talent isn't 3× the song. (diamond geezer)

This is a song so mediocre that I don't think even the engineers bothered much with it. (asta)

I find the chorus quite painful and it wouldn't make my top 100 Motown songs, but compared to the competition... (The Lurker)

2009: Breathe Slow - Alesha Dixon. (109)

Go, Alesha! Very pretty effort, I like this a lot. (Hedgie)

She's very, very good at this sort of thing, isn't she? Quite a pair of lungs, and not a bad song either. And she climbed a mountain for charidee and everything. (SwissToni)

Wins on technical knock-out. The fit between the track and the vocals is absolutely watertight, and the resulting dynamics where you can't really tell which is driving which is beautiful. Bit of a boring song to go charting, but I'm still slightly awestruck at just how good it sounds. (Simon C)

A very typically English song about compo-wo-sure and the importance of staying cool. (Lena)

Cunning song, this; subtle, insidious, gradually unfolding like the pinkest and lightest of clouds over the Grand Canyon at dawn. But not quite a great one. (Marcello Carlin)

The rest are pretty much on a level but I’ll go for Alesha as I’ve always liked her since Mis-Teeq. They did a stadium gig once at Salisbury City FC, you know. Lovely vocal. (Erithian)

Nice, easy listening. And it does help that she seems such a thoroughly nice lady. (Lizzy)

"Breathe Slowly" Alesha...that's cost you the five points from me. (NiC)

Unlike Sheila Ferguson of The Three Degrees, Alesha’s bothered to learn the words of this by heart. (Amanda)

Sounds like a triumph for clever engineering, which kind of defeats the purpose. Don't get that chopping up of 'emo...tion'. I like her as a celeb, but don't rate her as a singer. (Gert)

Who? Nevermind. I expect she'll not be around all that long. I'm not suggesting that she lacks talent. It's just that there's nothing special here. Proficient. Yes. she's quite proficient. This is not the quality for long-lasting stardom. (asta)

Ugh. Saccharine, anaemic voice. Loathe it. And saying "woa-oh" is not lyrics. (Sue Bailey)

Absolutely nothing about this is interesting. (JonnyB)

Singing by numbers. And you don't take a breath in the middle of a word if you want to call yourself a singer. (Z)

1999: Fly Away - Lenny Kravitz. (87)

Love love love it. So funky. (Sue Bailey)

I LOVE this song!! Yes, the lyrics are complete drivel, but... I honestly can't see what you despise about it so much - lots of songs have silly lyrics, but don't usually warrant such venom!? (Lizzy)

Yikes! Feel the hatred! I think people divide into those who find lyrics the most important part of the song, and those who respond to the whole musical package. I agree these lyrics are total nonsense, but it doesn’t bother me at all - the whole thing is about the vocal line and funky guitars (And the vid's good too). It’s wildly pretentious, yes, but then I like a bit of healthy toss-pottery, if it’s done well. (Hedgie)

I once saw high school students perform this song. It wasn’t great but it was interesting. (Plus one.) Lenny WANTS to get away. (Plus one.) (Amanda)

He's a twat, clearly, and this is about as far away from authentic as it gets, being widely used for an advert..... but given the choice of the other dross here, the simple use of the guitar drives this up the list. Sorry about that. The rhyming here is fucking ridiculous too. so very high. up in the sky. just like a butterfly... up into the trees . To anywhere I please. V. poor Lenny, V. poor. (SwissToni)

I give him a two. That's what I'm gonna do. Because with him I'm through. I'm gonna put on a shoe. Is it just me or was Lenny Kravitz a huge disappointment? I seem to remember thinking his very early stuff was really interesting. (JonnyB)

'It Ain't Over Til It's Over' is the only one of his I have any affection for. (Dymbel)

5 points. Yes, this is shit. But it doesn't bore me as much as any of the others. (Hg)

I had hopes of this, but it went downhill rapidly. (Z)

He's never actually seen a dragonfly fly has he? They hover low to the ground. This is the least of the problems with this song, but I've been trying to to dial back on the venom, so I'll leave it at that. (asta)

It's like Prince! With all the artistic merit removed! (Simon C)

The reproduction antique market can’t be doing that well in the credit crunch either. (Marcello Carlin

It's just noise. Actually, it sounds like it's building up to an interesting middle passage and climax that never comes. It only gets to be this high because of Michael Ball. (Gert)

1979: Woman In Love - The Three Degrees. (83)

Yes, I know they were just a latter day English version of the Supremes but you gotta love them shurely. Good song. I would have never have guessed they were still around by '79. (NiC)

One of their records was my “our tune” with my first proper girlfriend. Nice if not earth-shattering. (Erithian)

Hardly earth-shattering, but essential "omg he just dumped me" mixtape fodder. And that's no bad thing either. (Sue Bailey)

I never liked them, thinking them dated and uninspired, but I did make an exception for this song. Even so, it would have been better sung by someone with a more interesting voice. (Gert)

The dogsbodiness of the lyrics put this below the Supremes' & Temptations' spikiness. (Z)

Not a patch on “Givin’ Up, Givin’ In” or “The Runner” – Two Ronnies musical interlude fodder. Here’s a sketch set in a ballbearings factory… (Marcello Carlin)

Turgid ballad; the singer sounds like she’s reading out the lyrics from a sheet of paper. (Amanda)

Their worst moment. (Billy Smart)

This song is an affront to women and it's boring. That's a tough act to pull off. (asta)

1989: Love Changes Everything - Michael Ball. (77)

5 points - only because he sings it so well, and because it has great personal significance which is none of anyone else’s damn business, and because Lloyd Webber gets an unjust bum press when it comes to hit singles. (Marcello Carlin)

He's still soppy, but a couple of decades have mellowed me and I wasn't annoyed. (Z)

Fine if you like that sort of thing, but pretty unremarkable. I’d still go for a pint with him though. (Erithian)

Might work in the context of the show, I suppose. (Billy Smart)

Nice song, shame about the operatic performance. (NiC)

It's beautiful, well sung, surprisingly poor production, slightly boring. I think this might have been my first musical, on some happy London holiday. (Simon C)

Now if this was a Eurovision song there would have been a key change in the middle - so for resisting the urge to change key: plus one. For the two syllable pronounciation of “ter-remble”: minus one. (Amanda)

Oi. BALL. NO! I don't really like Lloyd-Webber, and although I think Ball is a nice enough chap, his style of singing makes me ill. He's like the proto-Il Divo, isn't he? You have to admire the efficiency of the combination, but it's like anti-music, isn't it? (SwissToni)

I have an aversion to Michael Ball. Truck drivers gear changes. Dreadful leaps from chest to head voice. It would be a decent song. with a different singer. And different orchestration. And different words. And a re-working of the tune. (Gert)

I give up. Can I give this minus points? No? Damn. This is the reason why I think ALW is to music as Velveeta is to cheese. (asta)

I hate giving the obvious choice the bum's rush. But I have really listened carefully to this abomination I remember from its release and and nothing - nothing - can convince me that this isn't hateful. (JonnyB)

If this is what love does, I never want to be in it. (Sue Bailey)

Decade scores so far (after 7 days).

Look at this, folks: an unprecedented three-way tie for first position, with the 1970s only one point behind the leaders. And with voting absolutely neck and neck in the Number Fours round, it's still very much anybody's game. Apart from the 1990s, that is.

1= (4) The 2000s (23)
1= (2) The 1980s (23)
1= (1) The 1960s (23)
4 (2) The 1970s (22)
5 (5) The 1990s (15)

1969: Please Don't Go - Donald Peers. (no video available)
1979: I Was Made For Dancin' - Leif Garrett. (video)
1989: The Living Years - Mike & The Mechanics. (video)
1999: Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring. (video)
2009: Crack A Bottle - Eminem featuring Dr Dre & 50 Cent. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Fours.

1999: Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring. (128)

The beginning might be stolen from an old Def Leppard song, but this is superb. I dig guitars at the best of times, but this hasn't dated for me at all, and even though it has those typical sneery American frat boy "punk" vocals, it kicks along nicely. Best song here by a mile. (SwissToni)

I used to have a bit of a soft spot for The Offspring. This is easily the best of the bunch. Punchy, catchy and pointed. (Will)

Bubbles with infectious shoutiness. (diamond geezer)

Ah, the first and thus far only Orange County skate punk number one! I note that the Offspring are among those sampled on the current Puffy AmiYumi album – petition for a UK release, readers, it’s worth it – as indeed are Def Leppard, whose faux-Deutsch intro to “Rock Of Ages” is itself sampled for the intro to “Pretty Fly.”

Though “Come Out And Play” was not a hit here, its parent album Smash ended up one of 1995’s best sellers by word of mouth and stealth, so the Offspring’s British following had been growing for some time. 1999’s Americana was an even bigger hit, its systematic but good humoured examination of contemporary American youth mores acting as a sort of junior reader preface to American Idiot, and “Pretty Fly”’s Pixies-meet-B52s knowing catchiness has to date apparently provoked some 22 million downloads, mainly I suspect from the sort of earnestly flip youth the song satirises.

While it would have been great if, say, Rocket From The Crypt or Hot Snakes or Love As Laughter had made the top, they never quite grappled with a hook as unstoppable as the “Give it to me baby” plus cowbell plus Dexter’s lowing, Paul Lynde-ish “and all the girls say.” Possibly taking some of its lead from the Television Personalities’ “Part Time Punks” – “He needs some cool tunes, not just any will suffice/But they didn’t have Ice Cube so he bought Vanilla Ice!” – “Pretty Fly” nails the Ali G mindset in advance; the old story of wanting to be cool and totally missing the point of the culture he’s trying to emulate, though in a strange, dissolute way he remains happy (“So if you don’t rate, just overcompensate/At least you’ll know you can always go on Ricki Lake!” Holland sings with nudge-nudge relish). Even the nudge-nudge in the Spice direction (“The world loves wannabes!/Let’s get some more wannabes!”) is chiding rather than sarcastic; one of the cheerleading guys in the background is John Mayer. Another fine pop single which made me smile at a time when I needed enormous quantities of cheer. (Marcello Carlin)

Needs more cowbell. Always forget how much I love this one. (Sue Bailey)

Energetic social satire. Not really my bag, I prefer early Blink-182, but I wouldn't be entirely unhappy if this came on the radio. In certain frames of mind it could probably irritate the hell out of me, but it has the easy charm and breezy swagger of the best power-pop. (Hg)

I thought that by the third time of listening it would grate, but in fact it continued to grow on me. (Z)

C'mon it's got cowbell,sly lyrics and a sassy B-52 shouty delivery. Pretty Fly. (asta)

I wonder what, if anything, Tim Westwood thinks of this. Too many guitars on it for him, but even he has to admit, they are getting paid. (Lena)

I think I've heard this too many times on the radio, and I wouldn't say I like it exactly, but it seems very well constructed, if that's not damning it with faint praise. (The Lurker)

The producer has tried really really hard to record this to eliminate any trace of excitement from the loud guitars. Could have been good. (JonnyB)

The title of the song is famous, but they're only doing what the Beastie Boys were doing (better) 12 years ago. (Gert)

I always found them wholly unconvincing as frat-boy would-be punks. Their other big hit totally ripped off “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da” too. (Erithian)

I don't find this amusing, which rather defeats the point of the exercise. 'Low Self Esteem' was good, though. (Billy Smart)

Extremely irritating. I would like to never hear this again in my life. However it’s got a concept which is properly realised so I won’t let my personal feelings put it at the bottom. (Amanda)

2009: Crack A Bottle - Eminem featuring Dr Dre & 50 Cent. (106)

Not one of his best tracks when considered purely on its own merits - a bit of a plodder, in fact - but I'm awarding him goodwill points for being one of the most interesting & compelling musicians of the turn of the century. The appeal of 50 Cent remains a mystery to me though. (Hg)

I am worried about my inherent racism, because I quite like this despite my aversion to the genre. Although Stan is head and shoulders above because it transcends genre. (Gert)

Gets away with lyrical murder because the nicked tune's great. (diamond geezer)

What a waste, as Mr Dury would have said. The record works brilliantly for its choruses and first two verses (“Oh-o-OH-o!”) – and is that a White Album sample I detect somewhere? – but all momentum is lost when the torpidly turgid 50 Cent waddles in to mumble the record into inert impotence like Bill Withers squashed by an Eddie Stobart lorry, and I put part of the blame for this single’s failure to reach number one on him, although a good deal of it has to lie with Eminem himself; surely after a 3-4 year absence he needs to be pronouncedly “back” in and of himself and not crowd out his tunes with unnecessary guests (there certainly is no T.I./T-Pain-style symbiosis at work here). And yet it still gets the four points. (Marcello Carlin)

I was going to write something like I did for the Prodigy - not my sort of thing but it's exciting! But on a couple of listens, maybe it is my sort of thing. (JonnyB)

It sounds overblown to me, replacing the ideas and finesse of the early stuff with emphatic production. (Billy Smart)

A song that bumps along just fine until some guy called Curtis mumbles a lot about David Stockman, Ayn Rand and Bobby Jindal. No wonder it failed to get to #2, really. (Lena)

It really isn't worth a 4 but it's up against some of the lamest competition I can remember. 50, Fiddy, whatever. You're over. Done. Get off. (asta)

Efficient, but did he really bother to come back with a song as, well, as THE SAME AS EVERYTHING ELSE HE'S EVER DONE? No 8 mile, is it? (SwissToni)

It doesn't deserve one point, it isn't that bad. But he does, because it is a lazy and shoddy way of taking advantage of his fans by putting out a poor record, knowing that it'll be bought on the strength of his name. (Z)

1989: The Living Years - Mike & The Mechanics. (94)

As this charted less than a year after my father's death, it has a very special resonance for me. I have goose bumps and tears listening to it now. It's painful, but it works as art, because it's not there to entertain, but to speak to the soul. (Gert)

I can see how some people would find it mawkish, ghastly etc, but it’s effective and well-worked too. I expect a few people will have reminded you that Rolf Harris happened to be a guest on breakfast TV one morning when this video was played, and they cut from the video to Rolf in a pool of tears as he’d not long since lost his dad. I was never on such good terms with mine as the day I last saw him, and it was 17 years afterwards that I became a dad myself, so it doesn’t quite apply, but I still fill up a wee bit at this. (Erithian)

I know it's pure cheese, and yet... The lyrics are better than they have any right to be. (The Lurker)

I don't like this, but I'm compelled to respect it. (diamond geezer)

If we were marking these on face-scrunching ability alone, this would be tops. As it is, I'm torn between scoring it highly for its ambitious take on an interesting subject and considerably lower for its awful execution. (Hg)

Mock meaningful and somehow SIGNIFICANT AOR drivel. Does absoutely nothing for me. "I'm afraid that's all we've got"? What kind of useless lyric is that? Ah, but the chorus almost redeems it. Almost. It is a really good chorus though. (SwissToni)

He’s got something to say. It’s just that the sub-Paul-Young style of saying it isn’t that impressive. (Amanda)

Aimed above his ability. (Z)

Over-anthemic, but he did play guitar on some of the greatest tracks of all time. (Stereoboard)

I don't like to be preached at in pop songs. (asta)

I've always cringed when this has come on the radio. Cloying and as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Will)

Thank goodness I was a goth and didn't have to listen to that. (Sue Bailey)

Is this the worst #2 hit ever? It’s certainly in the running. Asinine, superficial and utterly dreadful, particularly because of its evident heartfelt sincerity and soulfulness, passion and honesty. Everything that exiled the eighties to a decade in the shed of shadows so of course Manilow covers it on his new Greatest Songs Of The Eighties album rather than e.g. “I’d Rather Jack” or “Candyskin” or “Yu-Gung.” (Marcello Carlin)

I may not be seeing 'eye to eye' with everybody here. The negatives - well the keyboard bit that echoes the first line of each of the verses is truly barf-inducing, and the quick sample doesn't get across the further mawkishness that the final verse brings. I remember the Lee and Herring routine about going through life not basing any form of action on a Mike and Mechanics song (I think).

And yet - here we go - well, it's quite good to sing along in the car to, innit? Essentially, FM AOR Dad-crap like this makes a virtue of its unmemorability. Yet this one is memorable. So let's see past the syrup and give it 'good song' status. (JonnyB)

1979: I Was Made For Dancin' - Leif Garrett. (85)

Nice bounce to this song. It's possibly stolen from somewhere else - Abba even - but it makes me want to throw great disco shapes on the multicoloured illuminated dancefloor. Yeah! (SwissToni)

Does anyone else hear Madonna? No. Just me then? Ah well. I thought I would hate the track based upon the name attached, but oddly my days of Tiger beat magazine and the Cassidys and Bay City Rollers have left a soft spot in my heart for cute faced team heartthrobs. (jo)

I was too young to 'get' him in any way, but my goodness he was on the cover of Tiger Beat every month back then. I like a good dance song, even if it is a bit dumb. (Lena)

Nostalgia attack! I bought this with some of my 11th birthday money. If I had been 41 at the time I would have dismissed it as crap, but I am overruled by the girl in Junior 4 (and I've cued up the vid for later perusal) (Gert)

I think this is rather jolly. And I'm entranced by your Bollywood suggestion. (Sue Bailey)

The video reminds me of those Hardy Boys episodes where Shaun Cassidy's Joe Hardy decides to be a singer. The intro is promising but Garrett sounds bored and uncommitted. Not irredeemable but the whole thing ends up bit Eurovision. (And I'd better stop listening to it now as it's starting to grow on me.) (Will)

A bit stodgy. It fails to lift me in the way that its designed to. Crucially, it certainly doesn't make me feel like dancin'. (Billy Smart)

Briefly pinned up in 1979 and about as potent and stirring as – well, Our Kid or the Nolan Sisters. With added bromide. Would have been a surefire number one in ’75 or ’76 but in ’79 it seemed a wee bit out of time. Standard fare in Figaro’s disco bar, I’m sure. (Marcello Carlin)

I just listened to this and I can't remember anything about it other than that I thought it was a poor imitation of a Saturday Night Fever groove. (asta)

I don't think there's anything good to say about this. However, not being a particular fan of disco, it doesn't offend me as much as it might if I was. (The Lurker)

Pure Summertime Special. Except that doesn't work so well in mid-February. (diamond geezer)

Can't help thinking there must have been some kind of fault in the manufacturing process. I'd ask for your money back, Leif. (Hg)

The kind of thing that made me discophobic. (Erithian)

Made for dancing perhaps but not made for singing. (Amanda)

1969: Please Don't Go - Donald Peers. (67)

It does have an interesting sombre out-of-time quality. (Billy Smart)

A friend pointed out to me today that Peers in 1969 was 3 years younger than Neil Young is now and a year younger than Iggy Pop. (Erithian)

I picture a room full of lonely sailors and some girls in red lipstick with dance cards. Not horrible, but more background music to a film for me. (jo)

Of its time, but the only place this has in the modern world is being played over the closing credits as the lead character reflects on the life he had with his dead wife in a bittersweet gentle comedy film about two elderly people living together in the North of England. (JonnyB)

The brief return of the Cavalier of Song as Reith’s BBC wanly attempt to battle with what The Kids Of 1968-9 actually wanted from their popular music. The ruination of the late 1967/1968 charts by syrupy ballads has to be ascribed to the suffocating effect of Housewives’ Choice and similar – and Radio 2 now do penitence by playing “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Stay With Me Baby” and all of those other records which they should have been playing instead of the Ray Conniff and Ken Dodd that they actually did play. At 60 Peers was at that time the oldest chart debutant to date and his (well, Les Reed and Jackie Rae’s) adaptation of Offenbach was performed as plummily and outdatedly as he would have done in, say, 1939. Its ilk was already being wiped out by Godin and Blackburn ’s righting of recent history, not to mention the onslaught of the Album Culture, and now it sounds like a slightly embarrassing last stand by the Old against the inevitable crushing by the New. And yet it gets three points. (Marcello Carlin)

Gosh, that's the slowest waltz I've heard for a while. What's the tune? I used to play it on the piano when I was a little girl. Faster. (Z)

Yes, that waltz is half a blip away from flatlining. (Hedgie)

I probably "should" score this more highly, but the simple truth is that I like Leif Garrett more. (Hg)

The first song featured this year that I have absolutely no recall of, though I suspect I'd think the same if I heard it again next week. (NiC)

Another one from the 60s I have never heard of. Another one of those croony songs with no emotion and over-souped syrupy strings. Waste of voice that could have done something with better material. (Gert)

It's like the Hump all over again, without the voice. It's hardly the Don's fault that he's working in the 1960s with an utterly default and mediocre song. He's a man trapped in his time and I"m sure if he were about now, he'd be working with Akon. Maybe. Well, no. (SwissToni)

Thank God for small mercies that this never made it to Canada. Donald Peers I'll be quite happy if I never hear your voice again and I'd like the 15 minutes back that it took me to remember and find the Tales of Hoffman waltz that you ripped off.

Take it from me love, if your man's singing this, go. Go right now. (Sue Bailey)

Decade scores so far (after 6 days).
1 (2) The 1960s (22)
2= (1) The 1970s (20)
2= (2) The 1980s (20)
4 (4) The 2000s (19)
5 (5) The 1990s (10)

1969: Blackberry Way - The Move. (video) (live performance video)
1979: Don't Cry For Me Argentina - The Shadows. (no video available)
1989: Love Train - Holly Johnson. (video)
1999: Boy You Knock Me Out - Tatyana Ali featuring Will Smith. (video)
2009: Take Me Back - Tinchy Stryder featuring Taio Cruz. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Fives.

1969: Blackberry Way - The Move. (144)

"I'm incredibly down!" Surely one of the most accurately bedragged portrayals of misery to get to #1. (Billy Smart)

Ooh. Like the dark strings and the glumness. 5 points. (Will)

I don't think I heard more than the chorus of this before, and I was surprised - this is fantastic! Must buy a Move album. (The Lurker)

Engelbert aside, this has been a really strong top ten so far. Another cracking song. (Erithian)

Blimey, 1969 is walking away with it in my neighbourhood so far! Am I really that ready for Radio Quiet Gold? Then again, so much of 1969, especially its number ones, were less than cosy, more portents of an impending apocalypse: what I heard was that Roy Wood intended " Blackberry Way " as a partial parody of "Strawberry Fields Forever," but as one fruit is darker than another, so the song. The kind of record which really only could have been a hit in midwinter, " Blackberry Way " is a break-up song which sees its protagonist simultaneously breaking up. There was a Mellotron rather than a string section on the record, but its sinister pseudo-'cello undertone (Joy Division playing the James Bond theme at quarter-tempo) and general air of weary loneness marks "Blackberry Way" as the first ELO record, even if Jeff Lynne was at this stage still the frontman of the Move's main Birmingham beat rivals The Idle Race.

The song sees Wood breaking at the break of dawn ("It's a terrible day/Up with the lark"), his Other having precipitously fled him, though the couplet "Silly girl, I don't know what to say/She was running away" suggests a somewhat more sinister scenario. The song's threateningly ascending minor key creeps up on the listener's neck like a wind of hate before mutating into a straightforward Brumbeat chorus ("Goodbye Blackberry Way/I can't see you, I don't need you") and then back again to a picture through which the Nick Drake of 1969 might have wandered: "Down to the park/Overgrowing but the trees are bare/There's a memory there/Boats on the lake/Unattended now for love to drown" though the throwaway next line ("I'm incredibly down") seems to mock this Resnais-esque mise-en-scene.

Finally the singer too flees - "Run for the train/Look behind you for she may be there" - with imagery which could have come straight out of that other spring-into-winter record which emerged in 1969, Van Morrison's Astral Weeks. No wonder that the Move's original lead singer Carl Wayne had by this time had enough of Wood's psychedelic fancies, preferring a straightforward, uncomplicated, unsensational career in chicken-in-a-basket cabaret - on "Blackberry Way" Wood is alone, in charge and already preparing for the astonishing outflow of Wizzard, early ELO and his own solo work throughout the early and mid-'70s which was to mark him as Britain's own Todd Rundgren; thus the Move was his Nazz. (Marcello Carlin)

Roy Wood, the Lidl McCartney. But I suppose everybody is. I hate - hate - 'Fire Brigade'. But this is marvellous and always has been. (JonnyB)

The Strawberry fields story is interesting, a catchy classic that's much more fun than Albatross. (Dymbel)

The comparison and contrast with Penny Lane was apparent at the time, but you're a lot younger than I am, Mike. Mind you, I was a mere child in 1969. Hem hem. (Z)

The musical response to Penny Lane is apparent and I like it." What am I supposed to do now?" Fair question. (asta)

's all right I spose, if you like that whimsical 60s stuff. They had a bit of a thing about singing in that strange whiny way in the 60s, didn't they? Glad that didn't last. (Clare)

I'm finding it really hard to put these in an order of preference. Usually I listen to the medley a few times and then ask myself the following questions. Which song do I look forward to? Which song do I want to skip past? That gets me the top and bottom so all I have to do is impose some sort of arbitrary order on the remaining songs.

In this case, the song that I’m finding most irritating is “Blackberry Way” (it’s the whiny voice that puts me off) but I’m loathe to put it last as it’s undoubtedly more interesting than most of the others. I especially like the James Bond like touches in the arrangement. (Amanda)

Listened to your compilation track before reading your commentary; this fairly screamed "Penny Lane" at me. Sorry, loses points for being a weak Beatles copy. (Hedgie)

Did the Beatles sound like other bands of the time, or did they become so successful that we just assume that other bands copied them? I wasn't there, so I can't say, but this sounds like a terrible Beatles mememememe to me. To the point of parody, in fact. (SwissToni)

This is one of those songs that sounds very familiar. Because it's familiar, I think I like it. Then I listen and realise it's very irritating not least for the chugging clanking guitar. (Gert)

1989: Love Train - Holly Johnson. (105)

Sheer steaming joy. (diamond geezer)

I never owned the record but I absolutely loved it, and still do. Brings back memories of cruising the beaches of Cape Town in an open-top convertible one glorious summer long ago. (Hedgie)

A bit like the Village People at the start there, followed up by some ropey "work of art / Trevi fountain" rhymes. Huge chorus too. What's not to like? Not his finest work, clearly. (SwissToni)

Before I listened, I was going to mark it down for being third drawer Holly, and it is, but it's a good song, sung well (he has vocal personality in spades) and the ghastly late 80s computer track doesn't diminish it too much. (Gert)

It sounds rather like a second-rate Erasure track, but it's better than the rest. (The Lurker)

Not as good as “Americanos” I thought, but he was always a great showman and good for a quote. (Erithian)

Stoke it up! Unlike Bobby Brown or Bobert & Mazelle, it is true that it hasn't dated terribly well, I agree. (Billy Smart)

Lucky to be up against such lame opposition. (NiC)

What happened? Big, welcome back comeback in 1989, complete with two huge hit singles and a number one album – and then it all trickled away. Not that I was or am particularly impressed by Holly’s first solo outing; all very efficient with its mild double entendre (“Stoke it up”) but coming after FGTH it bore the faint impression of a penitent recividist being paraded before a McCarthyite show trial; all the elements still there, but cleaned up and scrubbed so politely and fiercely that they resembled blanks. Now “Get Real” by Paul Rutherford from late ’88; THERE’S a tune… (Marcello Carlin)

2009: Take Me Back - Tinchy Stryder featuring Taio Cruz. (101)

This is the only thing in the selection with a bit of proper life to it. (Clare)

Just great in its discombobulation - the edifice of swagger smashed by a wrecking ball of regret. (Billy Smart)

Catchy and bouncy. And a wonderful name. (NiC)

Fun to see all the port-swilling snobs decrying the ghastly commercialisation of grime since we know that in some worlds fun isn’t as fun as being as miserable as possible. Whereas Calvin n’ Dizzee, Wiley n’ Rolex etc. are yet more manifestations of New Pop coming back (even if some of them don’t know it – how soon we forget the Fun Boy Three, eh?)! Tinchy’s is a bonzer track and his lyrical content and especially delivery remind me, of all people, of Terry Scott in his Curly-Wurly blazer; we instantly know that he’s fundamentally a naughty but lovable boy stuck in an adult’s body. (Marcello Carlin)

Oh God. Full marks to this, even though every fibre in my body is screaming an objection to the broken grammar in the chorus. "Misleaded you"? DUNCES. Catchy. mind. Best of a shit bunch of fives. (SwissToni)

Point deducted for irksome use of incorrect past participle of mislead. (Stereoboard)

In purely sonic terms the Tinchy Stryder one sounds great, but I imagine in 20 years' time it'll feel as dated as Holly Johnson does now. (Hg)

Despite the Lib Dem connection and its chart success, this was the first time I'd heard this. And it's pretty good. (Will)

I agree with Hg above that this is probably instantly disposable but boy it works fantastically for now. (Hedgie)

More bog-standard noughties R&B by people even their mothers have barely heard of. Sorry, that must make me sound sooo fogeyish! (Erithian)

(is an anagram of Cry Trendy Shit) (diamond geezer)

I don't think I'll remember this ten weeks from now, let alone ten years. (asta)

1999: Boy You Knock Me Out - Tatyana Ali featuring Will Smith. (80)

Very professionally done; very pleasant but very bland. (Hedgie)

I expect if I were ten years younger I would like it. I'm not so I don't. But in the context of this genre, it has merits. (Gert)

One of seemingly innumerable hits from 1999 which, when I hear it, immediately inspires the not very excited sigh, “oh, THAT one.” Timbaland and early OutKast aside, this seemed a fairly flat time for R&B and hip hop – getting paid followed by more getting paid, and both the Neptunes and 2000 clearly couldn’t have come soon enough. (Marcello Carlin)

First there's the sample bed of What You Won't do For Love by Bobby Caldwell to draw me in, and hints of the husky alto of Anita Baker, sadly with only the vocal power of a Janet Jackson. And then Will shows up to kill the thing TO DEATH. I should hate this but I don't. (asta)

Forgettable but at least it's not actually offensive. (NiC)

Blech - never liked that bland Smoooth FM nonsense. (Clare)

Bland. 1999 isn't coming up very well out of this so far, is it? (Billy Smart)

The perfect embodiment of my very least favourite kind of music - warbly bland mush. (diamond geezer)

1979: Don't Cry For Me Argentina - The Shadows. (50)

A long way short of their best, but the “plucking a single string” is at least rendered atmospheric by the production. (Erithian)

There's a Shadows live concert playing on constant loop on one of the Sky channels - they play this one. I'm not sure it was that cynically done - they seem to enjoy it and find it moving. But yes - it's Godawful. (JonnyB)

Squeaky clean & offensively inoffensive. (Stereoboard)

It’s baffling that Hank regards this cheese soufflé of a cabaret cover version his greatest recorded moment but then he did become a Jehovah’s Witness (apologies to any Jehovah’s Witnesses lurking). Maybe the Shadows should have quit for good after they first split in 1969 – the group was falling apart, there were stormy arguments and walkouts, miserable tours of working men’s clubs with boozy lads yelling out “Give us Apache!” and “When’s the stripper coming on?,” a collective ARGH! when “Albatross” went to number one (“why didn’t WE think of that?”) – but Marvin, Welch & Farrar did only respectable business (though Brian Bennett was quietly building up a parallel career for himself as a session drummer and composer of library/theme music – “Chase Side Shoot-Up” from 1974 is perhaps better known as BBC TV’s golf theme) and 1975’s call-up for Eurovision was not reluctantly accepted. Still, the 20 Golden Greats compilation was one of 1977’s biggest sellers, so they were keen to give it another try and their audience (more or less the same one they’d had fifteen years later) loved them anew – 1979’s String Of Hits saw them back at number one in the album lists but now they were content to churn out polite covers of vaguely contemporary hits as heard in cinemas when waiting for the film to come on.

So, no begrudging them for wishing to earn a living – and extra kudos to Hank for turning up alongside John Foxx and the Raincoats’ Vicky Aspinall to back Billy MacKenzie on the B.E.F. version of “It’s Over” in early 1982; he also appears on Sandie Shaw’s “Anyone Can Have A Heart” on the same album – but this was muzak toss to soothe over the worst winters of discontent. (Marcello Carlin)

It just shrieks of flame-stitch Santa Fe embroidery, peach walls, seafoam green carpet and shiny brass accents. Eeeeewww. (asta)

Hawaiian Luau background music. Ugh. (jo)

This version passed me by 30 years ago. It's risible. (Z)

I thought it pointless then and I think it pointless now. Give me David Essex and 'O what a circus' any day. In fact, just give me David Essex (of '79 vintage, I think he's aged badly) (Gert)

Oh dear. So you say they did some good stuff? I thought it all sounded like this. I remember once being driven to the airport at stupid am by some taxi driver who played The Shadows at me all the way there. By the time we arrived I was ready to scoop his eyes out with a rusty spoon and stick them up his bum. (Clare)

So this charted? In my lifetime, even. It reminds me of a national psychosis back in the motherland sometime late 80s, when some godawful pan pipe dirge clung to the charts forever and ever. (Simon C)

Oh Hank, how did this happen? I know you're a clean living boy so it can't have been drug "inspired". Are you sure this was really a) recorded and b) a hit, Mike? (NiC)

Lift Muzack. What's the point of this, seriously? Without Cliff they're nothing. NOTHING, dammit! (SwissToni)

A very reluctant 1 point. What they deserve is a firing squad at dawn for the blatant commercial band-wagon jumping. (Hedgie)

This whole thing is making me feel so old and so far removed from modern pop - I'm sort of grateful to the Shadows for showing that I can despise old stuff sometimes! (Andy)

I absolutely hate this song at the best of times, and this most certainly is not that. (Lizzy)

Decade scores so far (after 5 days).
1 (1) The 1970s (18)
2= (3) The 1960s (17)
2= (1) The 1980s (17)
4 (3) The 2000s (15)
5 (5) The 1990s (8)

1969: Albatross - Fleetwood Mac. (video)
1979: Contact - Edwin Starr. (video)
1989: My Prerogative - Bobby Brown. (video)
1999: Enjoy Yourself - A+ (video)
2009: Broken Strings - James Morrison featuring Nelly Furtado. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Sixes.

1969: Albatross - Fleetwood Mac. (146)

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, a piece of music arrives, so perfect within its own internal frame of reference, that it doesn't matter whether or not you "like" it - you just have to give it the respect that it deserves. I neither love or hate "Albatross" - it just IS. The world would be a poorer place without it. (Hg)

I once saw Peter Green play this in Rock City's basement. Well, to be precise, I could just about see his head. Agree with Hg, it just IS. (Dymbel)

Yes - it's like the theme of 'The Archers' isn't it? I honestly can't work out whether I like it or whether it's just familiar and cosy. (JonnyB)

Absolute genius; gives me goosebumps every time. (Hedgie)

A proper Desert Island Disc. (diamond geezer)

The first notes cause my stomach to clench and sink in the same way that thinking about things that were or the feeling of seeing the boy you adored in school but never had a prayer of a chance with made me feel. It is also one of husband's favourite tracks. It is often in the rotation in this house and it is beautiful. (jo)

Ah, 1969. Remember those idyllic instrumentals from the other end of the decade, "Stranger On The Shore" and " Wonderful Land "? Well, here we are again, back at the same place - but what tragedies have the intervening half-dozen years wreaked on the landscape? Or what disappointments; the utopia which on close-up turned out to be a scrap metal merchant's premises? So "Albatross" conjures to mind a sadder and wiser Shadows; the brushstrokes now slower, more delicate, more lament than anticipation. The rhythm is down to unison, deep tom-tom and bass guitar, throbbing like an anginal heartbeat, quiet and quieter by the second.

I saw a German TV performance of "Albatross" recorded at that time, and there was neither land nor shore to be envisaged; merely five introverted, long-haired chaps in scruffy jumpers and scuffed jeans who might still have been mourning Robert Johnson in the pungent basement of a Dutch strip bar post-lock-in. The life of the mind, such as it still existed; and at its cynosure, the doomed bastard Peter Green, responsible for not only Fleetwood Mac's most successful year in terms of hit singles, but also for the most numbing and disturbing series of hit singles by anybody in any year.

With “Albatross” in particular, however, I think of Syd Barrett's "Baby Lemonade" - Jerry Shirley on drums doing his best to follow Syd's implausible tempo and mood changes, David Gilmour's lead guitar fortunate enough just to be keeping up – and realise that subsequent Fleetwood Macs represent an absolutely necessary running away from this utter darkness; though of course they always kept it somewhere in the middle of their minds; "A landslide will bring it down," and so, play on, just like those tender eight notes Peter Green sneaked onto the end of “Brown Eyes” on Tusk; the past is also allowed to run, if not quite catch up. (Marcello Carlin)

Again the 60s win by the width of the Pacific Ocean . I’ll take the Mac as blues band over their later incarnation too (Shake Your Moneymaker, Need Your Love So Bad – fantastic stuff). There’s an idea that the bass on this resembles your mother’s heartbeat as heard in the womb. Maybe that’s why it’s so relaxing! (Erithian)

Such a classic I thought I'd be disappointed, but I happily lost track of time. (Z)

It's very unique that a relaxing instrumental piece like this should have reached number one. (Amanda)

Well it's no Silver Apples or Stockhausen I guess, but this is a legendary Yoga classic. (John)

The only decent thing they ever did, but wow, a class of its own. The rest of today's are so, so far behind. (NiC)

Unique, gentle and relaxing. Not convinced I would want to listen to it more than once every few years, mind. Given what it's up against, an easy 5 points. (Will)

I'm overfamiliar with this from irritating M&S adverts, and it washes over me like the background music it certainly is. It's very, very hard to get excited about this, anyway. Obviously Peter Green was a genius though, innit? (SwissToni)

I've never been a fan but I know this is one of their seminal tracks. Bores me stupid, but yet appears to be the best of a bad bunch. (Gert)

I can objectively see how amazing this is, but that doesn't stop me finding it an opressive dirge to actually listen to. (Billy Smart)

I know there are people who adore this. To me, it's just one small atmospheric doodle. Perhaps it's because I love jazz. I love the exploration of a musical idea, the conversation between musicians, the experimentation, evocation of mood through notes. This is just too small to be anything more than okay. (asta)

1979: Contact - Edwin Starr. (116)

Owww! Get down and boogie. You were lookin' at me. I as lookin' at you. etc. He got the funk. (SwissToni)

All the disco tricks in the book, combined to vivacious effect. (diamond geezer)

Despite the Morodor overtones, this is a delight and just about perfectly sums up '79 on a dance floor. (asta)

Now THIS is how to grasp the zeitgeist and twist it into attractively curly shapes! 1979 is still my favourite year for pop and how fine it was to see Edwin roaring back in style with this terrific, throaty shouter-stomper. And despite the composer credits listed on the label, the main composer – I can’t remember which of the two pseudonyms was his – of “Contact” was none other than Malcolm Roberts, late sixties Brylcreemed balladeer of “May I Have The Next Dream With You” fame. But that’s what it was all about in 1979; along with the new, many reliables coming back in unfamiliar disguises. Who’d’ve thought, for instance, that Mighty Baby would have changed the blue in the air? (Marcello Carlin)

I was never a fan of disco but did have a bit of time for this if only for the vocal – he means it, maaaann. (Erithian)

Excellent in parts, as the curate said to the bishop. (Z)

I don't know enough about this to place it in any kind of historical context, but listening to it in isolation it doesn't particularly inspire me. It just makes me want to hear "I Feel Love" again. (Hg)

It's a classic track, I suppose, but it never quite sets me alight. It's okay. Shrug. (Gert)

I once saw Edwin Starr sing 'War' (my big favourite of his, along with SOS) with Bruce Springsteen. Unfortunately, it was the worst Bruce gig I've been to (99 reunion tour) and this does nothing for me. (Dymbel)

Great singer, pedestrian song. (Amanda)

1989: My Prerogative - Bobby Brown. (114)

It's clear from the video that human civilisation peaked in 1989 and we're now heading steadily downhill towards the inevitable Mad Max scenario. Even though I hardly knew them, I do miss the 80s. (Simon C)

I had a major crush on him at the time (hey I was, likem 12!). It's not as good as Keith Sweat's "I Want Her" as far as swingbeat goes, but still a cornerstone record in the fact it crossed over. (John)

Not a track that I'd ever play out of choice, but it's one of Mrs Hg's teenage favourites so I've heard it many times over the years. One potential test of a "classic" song is how many different cover versions you can envisage. In this case, once my imagination gets going it's hard to stop. (Hg)

I hated this at the time, but I can't deny its vitality. (diamond geezer)

I'm a Boston girl, it was ever present in the 80's, on every radio station, being blasted out of boomboxes on the streets, blaring out of convertibles and Camaros and TransAms cruising up and down Revere Beach. Now all we hear about is when he comes back to town to go to court for forgetting to pay some child support. Oh how the mighty have fallen. (jo)

I don't understand the finer points of genre. This just sounds Michael Jackson inspired to me. (Amanda)

I never quite got Bobby. You would think I would have, and I can’t quite figure out why I didn’t. He fitted pretty well into the luminous 1989 pop picture but as far as New Jack Swing was concerned I’m afraid I was something of a dreary purist – why aren’t Guy or BabyFace having hits, I whinged at the time. Or maybe Word Up-era Cameo was still a wee bit too recent.

I enjoyed the perky bounce of “Every Little Step” but there’s something missing in “My Prerogative” and while I’m loath to use that shopworn term “studium” it does apply here – he’s making all the right moves, pushing all the right buttons, and it nearly connects with me but crucially doesn’t. Predictably, far and away my favourite BB hit was the remix of “Two Can Play At That Game,” which I suppose betrays the truth that in 1989 I was much more of a Deep Housey kinda guy. (Marcello Carlin)

The man is a waste of space. The swagger, even at the time of recording was obnoxious, but then so was 1989. Remember all the big hair and shoulder pads and flash money. Yeah it was like this. (asta)

It has a catchiness about it, but then, so does manflu. (Gert)

That hair, that look… you’re right, what a plonker. (Erithian)

Bilge. And I could never forgive those trousers. (SwissToni)

2009: James Morrison featuring Nelly Furtado. (62)

Potentially very bland, but I actually quite like this. I have a thing for Furtado anyway, and the boy Morrison is okay, actually. It winds up a bit obviously to the chorus, but this is alright by me. It's catchy and it's sappy, but I don't mind this at all. Sorry Peter Green, but Nelly gets it. Wait... that sounds wrong. (SwissToni)

There is something about his voice that reels me in. I can't help it, even if the songs aren't great. I just like to hear him. (jo)

James is as thick as pigshit as anyone who saw the VH1 All Time Top 100 albums. But the lad is sweet and means well and has an OK gravelly voice. Furtado is above this though with her 00s defining last album but it's a nice stop-gap. (John)

Smooth, quality, easy on the ear, glossy video, but just not that exciting. (Erithian)

OK it's cheesy, it's got hackneyed lyrics but I rather like the throaty charms of the Morrison part. Their voices don't work together at all. (Amanda)

She should have got more than a feature, she put him up by a couple of notches. He was tedious. (Z)

The charts have been pretty splendid of late, haven’t they? True, the superb recent run of number ones is about to be broken by Comic Relief coming along to ruin my day (Suggest Charity Singles Chart Ban – and spell Vince Clarke’s name correctly while you’re at it; still, if nothing else, the Saturdays will ensure that Depeche Mode finally get a number one, albeit by proxy, and it should have been Nouvelle Vague’s version bah) but it’s one of those fabled Golden Ages, folks; GaGa, Cudi, Bouncy, T.I., the PCDs, Kelly C, Taylor S, Alesha, Lily, Kanye, Kevin Rudolf, even/especially Leonard Cohen – all very fine indeed.

But even in fabled Golden Ages there’s always the obligatory dull hit which hangs around, although I suppose it is necessary as The Thing That Everything Else Has To React Against. Think of early 1978 and all those superb new wave/punky/disco/leftfield hits and how you audibly groaned (well, I did anyway) whenever something dreary like “More Like The Movies” or “For A Few Dollars More” came on Solid Gold Sixty and droned away seemingly forever. And groan anew at how Dale Winton always seems scientifically to pick all the boring hits to play on POTP and skips past all the ones you were licking your lips in anticipation of hearing.

“Broken Springs” – sic, but it is the aural equivalent of Reg Holdsworth’s waterbed gone awry, minus the comedy – is That Obligatory Dreary Hit (but Chris Martin? Atkinson, my office, 9 am tomorrow sharp ;-) – you can’t blame ABC for Wet Wet Wet, etc….). It’s scrubbed and worthy and meandering and dull, relieved only by Nelly clearly ‘phoning in her vocal (you can picture the call from the record company: “uh, Nelly, if you’ve got half an hour, can you help this guy out?” “Yeah, OK, I’ll drop by the studio on my way to the grocery store”). A number two hit, so my wife will eventually have to write about it, but in Number 2 terms this is kind of the Derren Nesbitt. (Marcello Carlin)

The bland leading the bland. Oh Nelly, where did it all go wrong? (Hg)

I smell recording company marketing all over this. Shame Nelly. (asta)

What a terrible voice - part croak part whisper with a twist of tuneless squawk. It is actually painful to listen to, and would be getting minus points with better competition. someone gave this person a recording contract. And people buy it? (Gert)

Shouldn't we be allowed to give negative points for this calculatedly bland crap? (Dymbel)

One day, when I'm old and grey, I expect to hear this played at a funeral. (diamond geezer)

This almost actually makes me sick. (NiC)

1999: Enjoy Yourself - A+ (57)

I quite liked it when it came out. For something that seems to come straight out of the mass production music mill, it's not bad. (Simon C)

Stupidly obvious though the sample is, I actually have to concede that this is actually quite catchy. In a God-I-hate-this-annoying-shite kind of way, but it's catchy nonetheless. (SwissToni)

I loved this at the time, but nostalgia can't save its lack of originality. (diamond geezer)

The use of Fifth of Beethoven is enough to bump up the otherwise worthless A+ (Andy)

Utterly formulaic, but it does make me laugh, albeit at it. (Billy Smart)

Whatever merit this has is due entirely to poor abused Ludwig. (Hedgie)

This is all motion without movement -- marketing manipulation x10 that is utterly unmoving. (asta)

1999. What a year. What year was it? I don’t remember much of it myself for well documented extramusical reasons; on looking up the charts and EOY lists I am happy to concede that 1998 is perhaps the most underrated of all years for music (and boasts one of the best runs of number ones) – but 1999? Much like myself in 1999, all over the place.

I do not recall this happening at all – crap proto-emo Lamacq-friendly band “A” are unlikely ever to be beaten for first entry in Guinness status (especially since Guinness don’t publish any more Hit Singles/Albums books, the contract having passed to dreary Virgin, complete with all the mistakes which marred the last edition of Guinness and many more, and minus the albums) – and can’t attest that my life is poorer for not knowing it. Hopeless, hapless, sapless and did punters really just snap up any single going for 99p in the first week at Our Price? Was I there? (Marcello Carlin)

The music sounds like a bad Stars On 45 cover version of one of the more forgettable tracks from ABBA's "Super Trouper" album and the rap is just... meh. (Hg)

Absolutely not. 'bag chicks' puts me right off. Screw the attitude. (jo)

No no no. Sacrilege and musical murder accompanied by unoriginal ranting by a small man with an inflated sense of his own importance. Crime against humanity. (Gert)

---

These comments are directed to Rihanna, who sadly doesn't read this.

5. Fleetwood Mac - you know, Peter Green went mad about a year after this and took up gravedigging and only in the 90s with Mick Fleetwood's help did he come back to music. Going away from music doesn't have to be such a drastic move, you know, but it's not everything. Neither is Chris, for that matter (yes I can too talk like this, I am twice your age).

4. Edwin Starr - you see, this is how you survive. You can't always be on top; in music, you have to adapt. Get with the new groove. Keep yourself in check and don't let anyone push you around. Ahem.

3. Bobby Brown - Because you don't want to become Bobby Brown, you don't want to have everything and then have lost it, do you? Think of how Britney's meltdown was preceded by her recording this song, complete with her 'oh me oh my I am so off the chain' video. And look at Britney now: successful, yes, but in invisible chains. You don't want that either.

2. James Morrison and Nelly Furtado - Sure, this song might be bad, but hello, the word "broken" is in the title, and it seems to me you have a broken relationship. Go back to Nelly's superior "Maneater" or "Say It Right" - do you think anyone could pull **** on Nelly? No, nobody could. Let's hope this is the clunker on her next album, okay?

1. A+ - You are already about a kajillion times more successful than these folks, but happiness is not something that can be measured by chart positions, sales, or diamond bracelets. On the one hand, you have to do what makes you happy. That comes from self-respect and self-knowledge. I realize I am bossy but these are important for everyone - you, me, tout le monde. If you remember someone who is not here - J.Lo - and her song "My Love Don't Cost A Thing" then maybe you would have steered clear of P.Diddy and anyone who is friends with him. Hard I know, but it would be typical of him to tell a certain someone that expensive gifts are a way of showing love. HAH. LOVE is the only way to show love.

Full Respect and Best Wishes,
Lena

Decade scores so far (after 4 days).
1= (1) The 1970s (14)
1= (3) The 1980s (14)
3= (4) The 1960s (13)
3= (1) The 2000s (13)
5 (5) The 1990s (6)

1969: Dancing In The Street - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas. (video)
1979: Tragedy - The Bee Gees. (video)
1989: You Got It - Roy Orbison. (video)
1999: Heartbeat/Tragedy - Steps. (video 1) (video 2)
2009: Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) - Beyonce. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Sevens.

1969: Dancing In The Street - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas. (172)

Head and shoulders above the rest of today's. Wonderful. (NiC)

This is pop firing on all cylinders. It moves, it shakes and it has the added bonus of having something to say. (asta)

This is a blast of jubilant excellence. (diamond geezer)

What a great sunshiny song to listen to on a gloriously sunny summer's day in March. I'm bopping while I'm type. Have to confess I prefer the Bowie/Jagger cover! (Gert)

Fresh, upbeat and fun. And I even like the Bowie/Jagger version. (Will)

Easiest choice ever, one of the most important records in history, Motown or otherwise. It inspired The Stones, Civil Rights Movement reference and recently Beyonce's sister in the internet buzz smash of the summer. It still isn't a patch on "Heatwave", mind. (John)

Not a vote for 1969 really, but a great pop song which, even if it wasn’t intended to be iconic, became so because of the social circumstances of the decade. It still staggers me how people who were among the most successful entertainers in 60s America (the Supremes hitting number one as regularly as the Beatles) were such third class citizens. Incidentally, there was a spate of Motown reissues at this point in ’69: the first British Market Research Bureau chart was around this time and included several of them. (Erithian)

Even though I had the worst possible introducion to this song via Sir Mick and Dame David, its still a work of deathless greatness. (Incidentally, the 1969 rerelease was down to the patronage of 'Fluff' Freeman. Alright? Not 'arf!) (Billy Smart)

1969 and Motown get it again: Archie Shepp was I think the first musician to identify this as radical riot music, and sure enough there’s future Shepp/Sun Ra drummer Steve Reid thrashing himself out of his chains next to Marvin Gaye on the traps. To anyone with ears at the time this must have sounded like the incitement of all incitements, but offering fun and colour with its promises of liberation. In his brief sleevenote for Motown Chartbusters Vol 3 Fluff Freeman comments that “I always knew there’d be British Justice for ‘Dancing In The Street’!” and for that we must thank Dave Godin and Tony Blackburn for launching and maintaining (Godin planned it, Blackburn played it) the multiple Motownian onslaught of simultaneous new issues and reissues which stormed our charts from late 1968 onwards, sending the Housewives’ Choice Reithian crooners into deserved exile, putting history right. Throw open the petrified curtains, pour the Valium down the sink, open the windows, let the sunshine in…does that sound like 1969 again? In 2009, of course, and despite everything, it feels like the celebration after-party which we still deserve. (Marcello Carlin)

The first record I ever bought with my own money and has remained one of my favourite songs of all time ever since. (Richard)

An unimpeachably perfect song. It is happiness in 3 minutes or less. Can you listen to this song and NOT tap at least your toes? I didn't think so. (jo)

Perhaps the most important song Motown recorded ever? Not sure. Dancing as an alternative to rioting, but that didn't stop the dancing or the rioting, come to think of it. A song of complete freedom. (Lena)

Admirable, though a bit sedate for me. (Hg)

Well it's not Bowie and Jagger, but I suppose it's alright in its own way.... (SwissToni)

To some extent this song looks better on paper, always perk up when I hear it but after a minute it feels a bit repetitive. (Simon C)

I know it's a Motown classic, but actually it's not even my favourite Vandellas song. (The Lurker)

Not a song I have ever had any affection for, despite my Bowie devotion his version of his with Jagger is undoubtedly the crappest thing he ever recorded and this, while better, doesn't really stir anything in me. (Alan)

1989: You Got It - Roy Orbison. (140)

Oh my god, this is brilliant; great tune, great harmonies, great sound world, evocative. (Gert)

Sublime. I've never had a problem with Jeff Lynne. (Hg)

Absolutely fantastic. Luckily when this came out, I was 14 and too young to be cool, although even then I was surprised to be enjoying something by someone so old (especially as I was already mostly listening to dance music by this stage). I'd forgotten all about this record's existence until I heard while out clubbing at London's fantastic 'Unskinny Bop' last year - and it sounds even better heard loud in a club, those fantastic thundering drums in the chorus sound great nice and loud. What a good selection we're having this year! (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

An amazing comeback and a terrific swansong, even if I like it despite Jeff Lynne’s involvement rather than because of it. As I’ve said on Popular, I thought Jeff Lynne’s production tended towards the excessive and rather spoiled the “new” Beatles singles. (Erithian)

5 Points - on the grounds that his voice is great and the arrangement is pretty good, even though the song itself is quite lacklustre. (Alan)

Almost placed it top. This was on one of the first CDs we ever owned and my proper introduction to the Big O. Still really like it. (Will)

Intrigued by Roy's ageing voice on this (a touch of Johnny Cash's American Recordings), I found from Wikipedia that this was released posthumously. Roy Orbison was only 52 when he died. I don't know what he did with his life that he sounds more like 70. (Amanda)

Imagine if we could have had a whole 'The Big O Sings ELO' album... (Billy Smart)

Great as this is, Orbison's 'Not Alone Any More' is the Wilburys' high point. (Dymbel)

The Wilbury-style backing renders this faintly undignified: fine performance and a big hook though. (Tom)

As pained as The Bee Gees are, Roy crushes them with his nobility. As sad as his early death was and is still, I am glad he got to make one more album and get the respect he so clearly deserved(s). (Lena)

This was a tough placing. I've never rated this song as particularly noteworthy, because I think Crying, and Only the Lonely are far superior to it. But I've always liked the catch in Roy's voice that implies hurt and regret on a grand scale. On the other hand, I'm tired of his voice being used to shill everything from cars to soda and this song gets recycled a lot for that very function. (asta)

Not my favourite Roy song and a lead up to his days with the Travelling Wilburys, which despite my liking of many of the members of the band it unfortunately contained one Tom Petty, a man I cannot stand to hear sing, nor can I look at him for long without wanting to wash his hair. (jo)

Timeless, but somehow second hand. (diamond geezer)

The strongest selection so far, so all points are necessarily relative. Even so the Big O seems to be the weakest link; “You Got It” is an efficient slice of ELO-doing-Roy but too dependent on inbuilt nostalgia (the “Oh Pretty Woman” references – and see also the current Glen Campbell album for further examples of this regrettable tendency) really to work. The great lost Orbison track of the eighties remains “Wild Hearts,” from the soundtrack to Roeg’s Insignificance, released on ZTT. If only Trevor had been given Mystery Girl to produce. (Marcello Carlin)

Oh Roy, lucky the BeeGees were here or you'd have been bottom, how the mighty have fallen. (NiC)

1979: Tragedy - The Bee Gees. (115)

They have heard the big music and they'll never be the same. (Tom)

I think they have no rivals when it comes to agonized disco. Did Ian Curtis ever hear this? (Lena)

Epic. I didn't need the karaoke prompts. (Hg)

I saw them when they released this song. Yes, they were touring in Podunk Canada. I loved every single minute of it and would rate this far higher in another year. (asta)

Wagner rip-off (Siegfried's funeral music from Gotterdammerung). Another great great song. I don't like the Bee Gees vocally, but they did some blinding songs. (Gert)

Long after nuclear armageddon, campfire survivors will still be singing this. (diamond geezer)

I kind of like it despite myself. Like the pumping verse intros; less keen on the falsettos. (Will)

There's definitely a harsh sound to the falsetto singing. It's unforgettable though. (Amanda)

Again, we’ve had this discussion on Popular. Not quite a meaningless song, albeit in very high voices, but they irritated the hell out of me. (Erithian)

I can't even begin to imagine wearing trousers tight enough to make me sing like that. (SwissToni)

Horrible compared to what they're capable of. This is no "Love You Inside Out". (John)

The tragedy of the title being that the Gibb brothers ever discovered disco. Hard to believe this nonsense is by the same band that produced Massachusetts and New York Mining Disaster. Gets the extra point only on the basis that it is marginally less insipid than the Steps version. (Alan)

Yep, still make my ears bleed. (NiC)

2009: Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) - Beyonce. (90)

Sighs - Like a cheerleader at the head of a parade. Mmm - precussion and vocals. (Billy Smart)

There's a lot more going on in this than I thought - it's really grown on me. (Tom)

"To infinity and beyond!" she proclaims, and the music is right with her. (Lena)

My gym instructor has used it for class the last few weeks - leading to a terrible ear-worm and bad singing from me for the rest of that day. But it did lead one member of the gym class to ask if Beyonce was singing instructions for us to do the move 'on a single leg' (not physically possible and quite bizarre!) (suz)

If only this had been a double A-side with “If I Were A Boy” since it follows on with great logic and consequence; he’s lost her, and now Sasha/Bouncy shows him what he’ll miss. Shirley Ellis (those claps and chants) meets Gary Numan (that ominosity of a synth line in the second half of each chorus), exactitude taken to Yello-like machinery absurdity (“Wooooooh-oh-oh!”) and does anyone believe the mask, least of all her? (Marcello Carlin)

Not a patch on 'If I Were a Boy', my favourite record of last year (surprisingly, as I don't like ballads all that much), but quite fun all the same. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

I can't explain why I like to hear her,but I do. Wouldn't buy a single, but if one fell in my inbox it might hit my pod. (jo)

Considering the costumes I find this surprisingly unsexy and don’t much like “strident” Beyonce - but credit for sounding unlike anything else she’s done. “If I Were A Boy” was superb AND grammatically correct – Midge Ure please note. BTW, it takes a special kind of person to spot the link between Beyonce and the Nationwide theme! (Erithian)

3 points - Only because it is a Sasha Fierce tribute to the greatness that was Gwen Verdon. Okay,and because of the percussion. (asta)

I like this, but Sasha Fierce is a half-arsed alter ego. (Hg)

I loved Beyonce in concert last year but still find 'If I Were A Boy' too calculated and this one doesn't do a lot for me. (Dymbel)

Bouncy as ever but just more of the same from the now seemingly one-trick Beyonce. (NiC)

I like this kind of jerkiness when it works, but it doesn't here. Also the kind of vocal hook in the chorus just annoys me. (Simon C)

Although in no way is this worthy of three points, it's pretty much Beyonce-by-Numbers and seems to exist merely as an excuse for yet another video featuring her trademark "trying to squeeze out a difficult turd" dancing style. (Alan)

This is alright, I suppose, but I find the theme of the song quite irritating. How dare she lecture men on what to do when she allows the man who put a ring on her finger to bang on about his bitch not being a problem? Having said that, I think I can guess who wears the big hip-hop trousers in that relationship, and it ain't Jay. It's still a pale cousin to "Crazy In Love". (SwissToni)

Slow down, dear! S'OK but I think K's right about longevity - is anyone going to be talking about this in 10 years time? (Will)

Her second worst single since the equally monotonous and irritating "Baby Boy" and also "Bootylicious". I can see why it struck a chord, but the B'day album was much better. (John)

Whatevs. It doesn't speak to me. I assume it's about cock rings, but references to sex toys doesn't a good song make (it is less awful than Steps' Heartbeat, though). (Gert)

I hate this record. I absolutely bloody detest it. However, it beats Steps. (diamond geezer)

1999: Heartbeat/Tragedy - Steps. (53)

Tragedy rebooted and energised. Tremendous fun. (Billy Smart)

I actually don't mind this, it's a harmless piece of fun and I have very fond memories of friends trying to do the dance routine very badly on nights out. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

Best version of overrated screechy song, Waterman back on form, of sorts - and I like Wham-esque "Hearbeat" and the video. (John)

Maybe this one gets too much from me for the time when it was my daughter's main way of communicating upset but surely everyone agrees it's better than the dire original? ....I haven't looked yet ;) (NiC)

This demands an extended entry (ooer missus) so here goes…

According to the sleevenote to Gold, Steps' greatest hits collection - and since it was written by their creator, Tim Byrne, he ought to know - the idea was to combine the Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys, although in reality they were the latest in the line of perky co-ed vocal groups leading back from the New Seekers to the Stargazers, with - as their name might suggest - the twist of added dancing (although they never to my knowledge danced the Twist).

Pete Waterman would appear to have sat most of the nineties out - all those Take Thats, Spices and Boyzones which didn't require his input - but as the decade neared its end he returned. He described his musical paradigm for Steps as "Abba on speed" although this would seem to have referred more to the speed of their gym treadmills than dexedrine. Working variously with writers/producers such as Dan Frampton, Mark Topham and Karl Twigg, Waterman was determined to apply the songwriting theory of Abba in this new context and in the process heighten his own songwriting game.

It worked with rare consistency. The innocent pleasures of Steps provided sixteen hit singles, the last fourteen of which made the top five, although only two went all the way; theirs was the role of the rep reliables rather than grasping the idolatry of automatic number ones. Yet they don't deserve to be filed next to Erasure or Eternal; from the endearingly daft line dance electro of 1997's debut "5-6-7-8" to the torrential reclaiming of "Chain Reaction" in 2001, theirs was a pop of subtle invention and only occasional coasting. "Better Best Forgotten," a number two hit from March 1999, should be presented to students as a model example of how to write and construct a pop song; Bjorn and Benny would have been proud of its patient bounce from opening minor key to the culminating rewrite of the verse melody in the major key, not to mention the chorus line "Take a chance on a happy ending."

"Heartbeat" was written by one Jackie James, and nearly approaches the divinity of "Better Best Forgotten"; here the thawing musings of the Olivia Newton-Johnesque lead vocal (all three female Steps - Faye, Claire and Lisa - take the lead at some point on the record but the transition is so subtle one doesn't notice the difference) lead to a typically yearning, probing chorus with its tripartite plea/prayer for the Other to take her back and embrace her once more. The vocals are superbly acted - the tremble of the "die" of "All our dreams are doomed to die," and the spellbinding slow motion middle eight, performed as though trapped in an iceberg of fog; note how Frampton and Waterman dissolve the "vain" at the end of "but my feelings are in vain" and the "go away" of the "just like feelings they go away" ("my feelings" which are "just like feelings"?) into an ahuman warp, only for everyone to join in at the end (H's "baby" anchor to the chorus is crucial). A masterful achievement.

Their assault on "Tragedy" is brave but they don't quite pull it off; the Gothic bells which launch their version into a premature explosion are ingenious, but Faye can't get Barry Gibb's suicidal/petulant agony (no "a-a-AAAAAH"s - but there is a sneaky satirical bent at work in the accompanying video/routine, wherein the band clasp their hands to their heads en masse every time the word "tragedy" comes up, as though needing a paracetamol) and the thunderclap punctum which heralds the Bee Gees' final chorus is missed out altogether; something of an own goal. Still, they would learn; and the more spacious and maximalist deployment of the same tools would work wonders in "Chain Reaction" which slaughters Diana's original. 5-6-7-8! (Marcello Carlin)

Actually “Heartbeat” wasn’t too bad, and H came across as a good bloke on Celeb Big Brother. (Erithian)

Oh, the cruel fate that puts this in the same voting category as the far superior original. This is efficient enough, I guess, but in an open audition, would H get anywhere near the BeeGees? (whereas I imagine that Maurice Gibb would walk into Steps, no problem). Heartbeat? Shit. (SwissToni)

Like drowning in six inches of golden syrup. (diamond geezer)

Don't even remember the other song, it can't have had much airplay. Either way, both songs are utterly worthless, and I'm just left wondering why they seemed insistent on making videos that bore no relation whatsoever to the songs they were representing. (Alan)

What? Go away. I'm not even listening to the end. And what are you doing, wearing your knickers in bed? Ew. And who's the girl with the stringy hair? - though admittedly, Tragedy would have come higher if the real thing hadn't been at the same chart rating exactly 20 years earlier. It should be more than 1 point below the Bee Gees though. Indeed, Heartbeat on its own would have been. (Z)

Decade scores so far (after 3 days).
1= The 1970s (11 points)
1= The 2000s (11 points)
3. The 1980s (10 points)
4. The 1960s (8 points)
5. The 1990s (5 points)

1969: You Got Soul - Johnny Nash. (video)
1979: Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads. (video)
1989: Last Of The Famous International Playboys - Morrissey. (video)
1999: When You're Gone - Bryan Adams featuring Melanie C. (video)
2009: Omen - The Prodigy. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Eights.

1979: Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads. (188)

This would get five points against just about anything, there is absolute nothing about this song that isn't great. A brilliant fusion of pub rock and punk rock, Tom Waits-ish lyrical dexterity over a bass-line that could kill from fifty paces. (Alan)

A classic. Their best song. (Geoff Mild Peril)

This is one of the greatest songs ever written. (Sue Bailey)

I'm glad this has been in my life the last 30 years. A Classic. (Hedgie)

The only one of the 5 which you can really get lost in. (Billy Smart)

The only tune on the list that half of Britain can sing. (diamond geezer)

It's a classic. I know we are not supposed to let nostalgia cloud our objective judgement, but honestly, who could record a song like this now, what market research focus group boxes would it tick? (Gert)

Superb record. I was lucky enough to see Dury live with the Blockheads shortly before he died, and they were aces, of course. A real one-off. Lily Allen, Kate Nash and the Streets can all try to inject as much character into their songs as they like, but none of them are within a million miles of Dury. So, so talented. (SwissToni)

Just a fantastic record (as we all discussed at great length on Popular), and the Blockheads are still a great live act without their late leader. (Erithian)

Singularly excellent song. Interestingly, I first heard it as covered by Nina Hagen & Freaky Fukin Weirdoz, and while the laid back style of the original has something to it, I do think it deserves a slightly harder treatment. More staccato and tighter. My dream cover version would be by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, produced by Rick Rubin for the Suck My Kiss sound. Then I could die happy. (Simon C)

Uber-suggestive as was "I Wanna be Straight", but it was just double entendres I think... he has a famous son? Stunning disco/funk record and one of the best no 1s ever. 1979 was such a banner year, please let there be some Chic! (John)

Much as I would love to mark this down (everybody else will vote it top; much of his other stuff isn't actually very good; it is obligatory to cite him as a genius; I was born and grew up in Billericay), let's face it - killer hook, one of the best pop songs ever recorded. (JonnyB)

In my old vinyl singles collection which is in the back of a cupboard, this is the one I know the best. I'm kind of tempted to give the top position to Morrissey which I don't know so well and therefore has got more ability to surprise me. In the end sense prevails. (Amanda)

The actual chorus is the weakest part of this otherwise fantabulous song. (asta)

Musically mesmerising, but slim lyrical pickings. I suspect that I don't "get" it. (Hg)

Energetic and fun, but I find Dury's vocals a bit, er, annoying. (Will)

I'm actually programmed not to like this, as one of my school so-called friends sat behind me during lessons hitting me with something hard, singing it (surely I should have been hitting him - why did I only think of this now?). (Stereoboard)

1989: Last Of The Famous International Playboys - Morrissey. (127)

Inventive and twisted, which has got to be the hallmark of greatness. (diamond geezer)

The tune might not be that astonishing, but the cautionary tale lyrics are still diverting, even after twenty years of familiarity. 2 good B-sides, too. (Billy Smart)

Musically it's a decent Moz single, nothing special - lyrically it's actually quite important if yr a Mozologist (and there's no reason you should be! Lord knows I am reluctantly). It's the single where his fascination with rough boys and the dynamics of crime first crystallised, which became an ever-increasing part of his lyrical makeup. (Tom)

His 3rd best single and the ultimate karaoke Moz "ooh, I can't help quoting you". (John)

I like this better than when it came out. We do take Mozzer for granted, don't we? (Dymbel)

If only he was this good all the time. Heck, I bought the album at the time because of this! (Lena)

One of the good ones. Rollicks along quite nicely, even without Johnny Marr's contribution. The first danger signs of the Morrissey obsession with gangsters and east end n'er do wells though, but at least the song is good, unlike some of his later work. It's Moz though, innit? He changed my life, and if it wasn't for the genius of Dury, this would be top. (SwissToni)

I am a Morrissey fan, but this was never his best (Every Day is Like Sunday) then and it doesn't benefit from the passage of time. (Gert)

Thought I'd have rated it higher. But at the end of the day it's half of a good chorus and an average song. (JonnyB)

Thought this a bit limp at the time – he should have tried harder to hang onto Vini Reilly, really – and it’s remained as such; Morrissey-by-numbers, as with most of his stand-alone singles of this period. (Marcello Carlin)

I loved The Smiths, but I've never been able to take his solo career seriously. (Hg)

I probably haven't given him enough of a chance; I loved the Smiths but have been pretty non-plussed by any of his solo stuff. (Sarah)

"Ronnie Kray do you know my name?" Probably not, and if he did he probably wanted to punch you in the face as much as I usually do. The Krays would have hated a pompous pretentious prat like Morrissey, and he'd have wet his pants if he'd ever actually met them. Never bought into the Morrissey hype, never will. (Alan)

2009: Omen - The Prodigy. (123)

Inventive and twisted, which in this case is the hallmark of near-greatness. (diamond geezer)

Against anyone other than Ian Dury this would have been one of the few times I'd given top marks to the current track. Undoubtedly one of the most exciting live bands in the world, Prodigy are one of the few that manage to transmit that excitement to their studio output. Not quite up to Firestarter or Charlie standards, but not far off. (Alan)

A rather wonderful unholy racket. If not a return to top form it's still obviously the Prodigy which, is a good thing. (NiC)

"Stunning return to form." (Sue Bailey)

Irresistible rhythm. Bass, Bass, BAASSS. (Stereoboard)

No longer innovative, but still unique. This sounds like the band that made "Charly". (Hg)

I may tire of this one day, but not yet. (Lena)

I surprised myself by liking a lot of “The Fat Of The Land”, though this is a little too similar considering it’s 12 years on. An unholy racket in a good way, and a memorable riff. (Erithian)

This no doubt is nowhere near Johnny Nash and I don't subscribe the reggae (especially dub like King Tubby) is vile theory - and nor does Moz if you check Under The Influence, but I love how they'e gone back to their rave roots and the amazing title and Kubrick(?)/Addams Family referencing video. (John)

They're good, int they? Only not really my cup of tea. It's a bit more old school for them, isn't it? I love all that shouting though. (SwissToni)

Certainly wouldn't have given it four points had I not just listened to it, but seconded what both Nic and your good self said. It just rollicks along, and I quite like the karaoke element of it. (JonnyB)

There's quite a bit of retro-early-rave stuff around at the minute, but I'm not it's right for a band to do retro-stuff that references their own work... but I was a Prodigy fan back then, and this is still a likeable track. (Adrian)

I was so ready to dump Prodigy at the bottom of the list - scary/aggressive music scares me these days - but it sort of dug in. (Andy)

They've been reasonably enertaining since Keith turned into a funnier version of Ade Edmondson. Punk's not dead! (Geoff Mild Peril)

I have to be in the right mood to really enjoy this kind of thing these days. But anyway some seriously bleepy goodness here. (Amanda)

Not really my sort of thing, but it's bloody exciting, isn't it? (JonnyB)

I was never a fan in the old days, but this has the merit of being relatively original compared to much of modern pop music. (Gert)

It does sound a bit dated, but it works. (Simon C)

It is a bit Prodigy-by-numbers and perhaps more than a little Prodigy-do-Pendulum by numbers – my recommendation/response is: check out the Qemists album – but, as you say, good to hear middle-aged chaps making a racket and not being all Jeremy Clarkson about it. (Marcello Carlin)

Well, its okay, but it does sound like one of Jeremy's demos in Peepshow. (Billy Smart)

1999: When You're Gone - Bryan Adams featuring Melanie C. (82)

Under-rated rock-pop hybrid. I've had a soft spot for this ever since I first heard it. (Hg)

Mel C had always been known as “Talented Spice” and this is real feelgood territory for me. I saw her play live to one of the happiest crowds you’re ever likely to see… mainly because it was in Trafalgar Square on 6 July 2005 and we’d just found out London had been awarded the 2012 Olympics. (Erithian)

Ahem. I quite like this. Adams is like the musical embodiment of Canada - he's rocking in a nice, polite kind of way. He's like vanilla ice cream. Nice enough, but nothing exciting. (SwissToni)

Not sure it's true to say there are no harmonies, Mike? Anyhoo, it's infuriatingly likeable. (Will)

I'm definitely not in the large camp of Bryan Adams fans out there but this has three things going for it. Mel C, a rather catchy rocking romp and most importantly it's not that bleeding Robin Hood song that was number one for ever. (NiC)

BA doesn't take his music very seriously, he just churns out acceptable easy listening. Little known fact: he's a big friend of my heroine Aimee Mann. (Dymbel)

Sporty Spice tries to position herself as a bone-fide rock chick but sadly chooses to do it by duetting with a guy who has built an entire stadium rock career on having once recorded a half-way decent album and then riding the coattails of Kevin Costner back when he was popular. As AOR goes, it isn't bad. (Alan)

I wouldn't so much as cross the street for Bryan Adams, the person, but he knew what he was doing with this song. Mel C is a welcome addition. Redoing it years later with Pam Anderson only reinforces the point. (asta)

My love of Ryan Adams and the need to clarify whenever i say his name, "without the B" causes me to wish his existence were relegated to his one hit and then a quiet disappearance. Quiet being the operative word. (jo)

I could think of better ways to spend my time, like watching paint dry, but collectively this is one of the most monstrous duets this side of Tom Jones meets Lulu or Heather Small. At least 1984-era scarface was good, but as for fierecely heterosexual Melanie - oh dear, voice of an angle indeed. Still one of her better songs though. (John)

Bryan "Bryan" Adams is a much better photographer than singer, and he drags poor Mel C in with him, though she as usual shines in comparison with him. But then who doesn't? (Lena)

Qualitatively this should probably have gone in the 2 points category, largely for Mel C waking the song up towards its end, but Bryan “Real Talents Don’t Need Can Con/Buy The Local Pub And Close It So I Can Hear Myself Rock/Vote Stephen Harper” Adams is a sucker of Satan’s cock of the lowest order and gets the wooden spoon by default. With an axe attached. Good electric rock track. (Marcello Carlin)

Rock by numbers. In this case the number is rather low. (diamond geezer)

Music for people who only like music because it's better than silence. Seal for the working classes. (Simon C)

Utter, utter crap. That is all. (Sue Bailey)

1969: You Got Soul - Johnny Nash. (80)

Surprisingly it’s less reggae-lite than his later bigger hits, a nice groove and full sound. (Erithian)

I've never heard, or heard of, this before. I am surprised. Or maybe that's a statement on the inherent racism of 80s Golden Oldies Radio. It's a good song and he has a nice voice. (Gert)

This might not be the strongest example of either Johnny Nash or reggae in general, but it's pure. (Hg)

Not a memorable record, but pleasant enough as it goes along. (Alan)

Even though I expect Cupid to draw back his bow at any second, the smooth sound still reels me in. (jo)

Beautifully sung but very slight. (Hedgie)

Nothing wrong with it. Nothing that specially right with it either. (Sue Bailey)

Good if slightly boring. He's got soul for sure, shines through in the delivery of the verses. (Simon C)

Alarmingly, I remembered every word, though I didn't own the record even at the time. Nostalgia still has its pull, but it's the weakest of the five by some way. (Z)

The first ten seconds promised more than the next few minutes delivered. (diamond geezer)

Dated awfully. Shit recording and weedy sounding vocals. I wonder what this would be like if it had been recorded better? It's not irredeemable, I don't think. (SwissToni)

Had to strain to remember this one and the strain wasn’t worth it; Johnny Nash-by-numbers. Spotted the theme here yet? (Marcello Carlin)

There's something about the production on this that lets it down. The song's OK. The main vocal and the interplay with the backing vocals is good. It's just not very memorable. (Amanda)

If Eric B. and Rakim knew this then I'm surprised they got into music. I don't know it and am quite glad. (Adrian)

Did he do a bad Kylie cover? (John)

1969: The Way It Used To Be - Engelbert Humperdinck. (video)
1979: Milk & Alcohol - Dr. Feelgood. (video)
1989: Fine Time - Yazz. (video)
1999: Changes - 2Pac. (video)
2009: Day 'n' Nite - Kid Cudi vs. Crookers. (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.

Running totals so far - Number Nines.

1979: Milk & Alcohol - Dr. Feelgood. (158 points)

5 points. I'm sorry, I'm just a sad old rock chick. (Sue Bailey)

A great, stomping slice of late seventies rock, this song would without doubt feature heavily on the soundtrack of my youth. (Alan)

I loved this then, love it now, and not just because my baby brother* did a brilliant impression on air guitar. It's passionate and entirely meaningless. (Gert)

Bouncy and energetic; a very efficient pop song. (Hedgie)

It was out of place in the top ten in 1979 and still sounds rough and refreshing now. I should point out that I had an evening paper round at this time in 1979 and to keep myself entertained, I would memorise the chart and sing the songs to myself, from #1 down to #10 or as far as I could go. This week has some corkers in it! I've wondered this for 30 years, but can anyone tell me what alcohol you would mix with milk and why? I've never understood the song, much as I like it. (Chig)

Chig - you'd make a White Russian with milk, and it's jolly delicious too. Sort of like an alcoholic milkshake, which can't be a bad thing can it? Though most probably the lowest of the low in the cool stakes... (LIzzy)

Nowt wrong with 70s pub-rock, especially when it’s got this much energy and a great snarling vocal. (Erithian)

Brilliant record. Bounces along nicely. A touch punk-by-numbers, but a killer chorus and a elegantly ravaged voice. (SwissToni)

Well, it's not what I remember the Feelgoods for, that will always the excellent "Stupidity" but against this opposition even this one stands out. (NiC)

Is it me or is this crying out to be covered by Joan Jett? OK, just me then. (Will)

A bit silly, but highly coverable and/or mash-upable. (Simon C)

Wow, this sounds far rougher than I remember. It's been a while. (Matthew)

It sounds authentically agressive and dangerous to these (perhaps timid) ears. (Billy Smart)

A catchy riff, not sure I'd go as far as buying a copy, but it's fun listening. (Adrian)

Promised more, but paled through over-repetition after the first chorus. (diamond geezer)

Loved this one at the time. In retrospect it's a pale copy of early Beefheart and loses my interest fairly quickly. (Hg)

"Smokin in the boys room" in another guise. (jo)

Not nearly as good as their most memorable song "Back In The Night". (Amanda)

It's not as if it's actually lasted well, but listening to it straight after Engelbert boosted its appeal. (Z)

I can watch Dr Feelgood on OGWT reruns and instantly understand why people like David Byrne would be inspired to follow their example (visually, if not musically) – in the young Wilco I even see Ian Curtis – and in my number one albums blog I will eventually have to write about them. Moreover they released an album in 1977 inspired by The Prisoner (Be Seeing You). Maybe when assessing them as recorded live I can come to a more reasonable conclusion about them but their studio work sounded parched and reactionary – punk for people who didn’t want punk – and “Milk And Alcohol” is a wearisome, hackneyed trudge which sounded in the way in 1979 and even more so now; its chart status, incidentally, is probably ascribable to the fact that the single came in tricoloured vinyl; black, brown and white. See what they did there? (Marcello Carlin)

Didn't rate them at the time, see no reason to change my mind. (Dymbel)

Look, British pub bands trying to pretend they're American blues/rock bands might be convincing on home turf but they're like George Bush trying on a Cockney accent. The song is fine. The band is like fingernails on a blackboard. No really. It just GRATES. (asta)

2009: Day 'n' Nite - Kid Cudi vs. Crookers. (145 points)

It's all in the hook, and this chugs with the hookiest. (diamond geezer)

One of the key singles this past year and if he is good enough for Kanye, he is good enough for you. (Lena)

5 points. Has to be really; as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, the lonely stoner (as evolution of the Greil Marcus/Robbie Robertson Worried Man) is likely to be an apt signifier for 2009 and this is his reluctant anthem – the languid abandon of East River Pipe meets Motorbass corridors, hurtling shafts of mirror at the unwary waver. (Marcello Carlin)

Yay for modernity! This is a much squelchier version in the medley than the one played a million times on Radio 1 (which isn't the original, it's just that there are many remixes available). I like it even more now. My colleagues probably like it less, given that I do sing "uh uh uh uh uh, at night" (and only that bit) out loud when this is on the office radio, which is a lot. (Chig)

Once again, the only song with some life gets my top vote. (Geoff Mild Peril)

It's a long long way from Welcome to the Heartbreak, but there's something in there that works for me. (asta)

Good stuff, although I'm mildly opposed to wonky parping. (Simon C)

Been enjoying this the past few weeks, and the video has me laughing. Flat as a pancake, in honour of the other day, natch. (Matthew)

Blippy and dislocated. (Billy Smart)

Not my sort of music AT ALL but I really like this. (Lizzy)

A very easy 5 points. Love it - although I agree its freshness might be giving it an unfair advantage. What's his beef with the video?? - He ACTED in it, for goodness sake! I loved the self-deprecatory humour of it; not necessarily a quality one associates with this genre. (Hedgie)

Yes, I also wondered how Kid Cudi could mither about the video that HE ACTED IN. However, I'm with him - the humour detracts hugely from the lyric. (mike)

Loving the track. Wishing I hadn't clicked the link to the video. (Sarah)

Does little for me and is actively irritating me and bringing on a migraine.... but still better than Yazz. (SwissToni)

Not bad, but a little bit pointless, the original is marginally better but only marginally. The sort of thing I would probably earworm for a day and then not be able to remember what it sounded like the next. (Alan)

The video's lifted my libido this morning and the song's sort of OK but I have no desire to hear it again... (Dymbel)

A bit like Shontelle; it sounds like bog-standard R&B to me. His comments on the video are VERY rude and well worth a read. (Erithian)

Preferred the unremixed version, which I would have put top. (Will)

The original is OK but I can't find any coherence in the remix. (Amanda)

I love the original, hate this. (Z)

Complete shit. C'mon, even So Solid Crew were better than this, and how long ago was that? (Hg)

No way near as good as 2Pac, but still way better than the others. Original much better than the remix though. (oh - and Hg, of course So Solid Crew are better than this. 21 seconds is still one of the most exciting number ones of the decade) (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

I'm sorry, I'm just a sad old rock chick, and I don't get it. (Sue Bailey)

1999: Changes - 2Pac. (135 points)

I'm surprising myself here, dead-gangsta rap not generally being amongst my preferred genres, but this is pure class. (Hg)

Yeah, much of this is thanks to the sample. But what a great use of a sample, and the rap fits perfectly. Easy winner. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

I like to believe there's a special corner of hell reserved for Bruce Hornsby, Christopher Cross, Kenny G and Rupurt Holmes. But this song works because of the milquetoast melody. The matter-of-fact spoken delivery of "That's just the way it is" is heartbreaking. Great song from a less-than-his-press rapper. (asta)

Some things about it are great, others disappointingly weak, but it all adds up to a genuinely excellent whole! (Simon C)

Bored after a couple of minutes, but then it grew on me. (Z)

The various elements are brought together quite well. (Amanda)

I thought it was quite witty at the time, and I still do, a bit. (Sue Bailey)

I hate rap generally, and 2-pac in particular...although mostly this is because of his posthumous career, and that's hardly his fault. The choice of sample makes this, obviously, but at least you can see the boy's talent too. Actually really good, although he can keep his Thug Life, thanks. (SwissToni)

This is teetering on crossing into the overly-soulful Notorious BIG territory that I can't stand, but manages to avoid going too far. (Adrian)

A non-committal mid-table position for the Jim Reeves of hip hop (stretch a case for Biggie as Sam Cooke); worthy and undoubtedly prescient but slightly ploddy and as far as Bruce Hornsby samples are concerned nothing can touch MC Buzz B’s immaculate and flawless “Never Change.” (Marcello Carlin)

In my head this was much better, I remember really liking it at the time, but listening back now it seems to lack something. Still head and shoulders above the average "Gangsta" tune though. (Alan)

I don't hate this, which is pretty positive from me for a rap tune, but it's mainly Bruce Hornsby's contribution which I like. (Chig)

Somehow the rap just seems too fast. (The Lurker)

Nothing original in this song whatsoever. (Geoff Mild Peril)

Never understood the fuss, and I’m repulsed by gangsta as a genre and a notion. (Erithian)

What is it with dead rappers and snoozeable backing tracks? No, no, no. Thank you. (Sarah)

Dear god, not another one. I have never yet used this expression on the internet "I'm not a racist but..." My single biggest problem is that these male vocalists all sound over-earnest and yet as if they have no emotional involvement in the lyrics. (Gert)

1989: Fine Time - Yazz. (114 points)

Strangely I like this better than the hits that made her famous. I never was one for the hi-energi disco stuff, but this is nice, smooth and soulful. Yazz was the entertainment at a corporate Christmas party I went to about three years ago. She's aged well! (Alan)

For some unaccountable reason this passed me by at the time, so I’ve just heard it on YouTube (first thing I’ve ever YouTubed, how last century am I?!) – anyway, sumptuous sound, likeable personality, lovely vocal, would have been one of my highlights of 1989 if I’d heard it!! (Erithian)

I can see its flaws, but I still think this is pretty good. Must listen to some Lisa Stansfield again. (Hg)

I was horrified when this came out. I adored her first three singles came out, and then THIS. Ugh. Her voice is way to weak to carry this...and yet, perhaps because my expectations were so low, hearing it again isn't quite as bad as I remember. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

Must admit to a soft spot for this soft, skanky and slightly troubled ballad; her shaky treadmill delivery works on a flotation truck level and any video from the late eighties featuring cameos from Big Ben (see also the hallucinatory promo for Rick Astley’s “Hold Me In Your Arms”) is more than fine by me. (Marcello Carlin)

It's a nostalgia thing, but I do like the laid back rhythm, and the voice isn't bad. (Clare)

Not so much my favourite as the one that I dislike the least. I'm most interested in the Marleyesque backing track. (Amanda)

*yawn* What? oh, right. It's fine. I've never hear of this singer or this song before. It get a pass for the harmony in the chorus. (asta)

I was never a fan of Sade, and this is second-rate Sade, but it's still not that bad. (The Lurker)

Yikes. This hasn't worn very well, has it? Definitely pre-Autotune. It would sound so different if it were recorded now. (Chig)

Not only the weak voice, the whole arrangement is a bit all over the place. (Simon C)

This was the same person who did the iconic 'The Only Way Is Up'? I'm sorry I don't do bland. And it's only by sheer fluke and matter of elimination that she gets 4 points. (Gert)

A bit more pace might have made it less tedious. (Z)

Rather dull. Ersatz classiness. (Billy Smart)

Still disappointing after all these years. (Sue Bailey)

Yazz did more than one record? How have I never heard of this before? Ah, because it's shit. (SwissToni)

I love you Yazz, you know I do, but you don't have the range. (Unlike Bruce Hornsby, obv.) (Will)

1969: The Way It Used To Be - Engelbert Humperdinck. (93 points)

The joy of this whole exercise every year is discovering songs I don't know and this is the first one this time round. (I'll hazard a guess that the 1969 #4 will be fulfilling that role for nearly all of us!) This was clearly designed for single saddoes like me and consequently I love it. I used to think Engelbert was a ridiculous caricature, but if you don't have to look at him and his mutton chops, his voice is wonderful, as it starts off in his boots, then soars and then goes back down again. Marvellous. (Chig)

5 points. I CAN'T HELP IT. Mom played it, I still like the voice. The song she is schmaltz, but the voice is good. (jo)

Almost sumptuous and lovelorn - almost. (Billy Smart)

This is what a Las Vegas version of Lawrence Welk would be like. It's got crescendos, a key change, Oo-La-la-Ah choruses and Strings! Oh, and he sings. (asta)

There's some drama, even if it barely rescues a non-tune. (Matthew)

Hmmm, soundtracky. I'm a sucker for big strings. It's all going quite well until the chorus. (Stereoboard)

Starts off well with a great sense of drama but tapers off quickly. (Amanda)

I was enjoying the verse, but then the chorus went all Delilah on us. Shame, it started so well. (Hg)

The overblown (yet simultaneously underpowered) chorus kills this. (Hedgie)

He takes a long time about it, doesn't he? I don't remember this, it passed by my teenage ear. I agree with the others, good verse, bad chorus. (Z)

Felt like a last, slightly desperate wave of the Old School in its February ’69 company when last I heard it in that context; Scott’s “Two Weeks Since You’ve Gone” steadily decaffeinated, let’s wither slowly in the present and pretend it’s still the past. Heavy handed in the sense that it knows it’s suffocating itself. (Marcello Carlin)

See what you mean about Scott Walker, despite which: mush. (Will)

Goodness, what a multi-faceted talent our Hump is. Not. Tom Jones, without the voice. Standard 60s plinky-plonky crooning with not enough of a chorus to rescue it. (SwissToni)

Oh dear, this sort of thing gives The Sixties a bad name. Bad backing track, bad doo wop girls. It has a not unpleasant tune, and his voice is rich and expressive. I think it helps if you listen to this while wearing a cheap perm and an even cheaper nylon dress. (Gert)

An overlong stretch of aural tedium. (diamond geezer)

I nearly fell asleep half way through. (Alan)

1969: For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder (video)
1979: Car 67 - Driver 67 (video)
1989: Wait - Robert Howard & Kym Mazelle (video)
1999: Westside - TQ (video)
2009: T-Shirt - Shontelle (video)
Listen to a short medley of all five songs.
UK readers only: Listen to four of these songs on Spotify.

Running totals so far - Number Tens.

1969: For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder. (190 points)

This is just magnificent. (Sue Bailey)

Feels like entering a groove of joy. (Billy Smart)

I hear joy in this song. I can't think of many songs where joy plays any significant part. Even the harmonica is happy. This is the exact opposite of Frank Sinatra's interpretation which is angry and defiant. These days, I vote for joy. (asta)

You cannot fuck with late 60s Stevie. A criminally underrated phase of his career. (Nottingham's 'Mr Sex')

Will outlive every other song on the list by about five centuries. (diamond geezer)

Simply a classic. I have no idea when I first heard it,and no idea when it seeped under my skin. I don't think I have ever consciously played it, but I know it so well. (Gert)

Catchy, soulful and sounding more modern than the year suggests. And got to love the harmonica. (Will)

I like the way he jumps up and down enthusiastically, and only bothers miming on occasions. A class act. Oh, the song? It's Motown. The '60s Motown house band could have played the work of Dave, Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Titch and made it sound divine. (An Unreliable Witness)

I find myself revisiting Mowtown and Brill and finding them better than ever. Time away, as you said, is good. (jo)

The only one of the five I recognised, unsurprisingly. Pity - wouldn't it be great to come upon that for the first time, rather than for the thousandth? (Z)

Hard to go wrong with a solid gold classic like this isn't it? The kind of song that makes you realise just what a crime "I just called..." is. Genius era Stevie Wonder. (SwissToni)

I'm not a huge Motown fan, but when they got it right, they really got it right. Strong song, great voice, and the harmonica really pulls everything together. (Alan)

4 points, because he is Stevie Wonder, although for me the chicken-in-a-basket covers have killed this dead dead dead dead dead. (Hedgie)

Yes, Dorothy Squires, bless her flooded basement of a Welsh heart, made this song her own (very loudly) not long after Stevie had the big hit and all detours to seventies TV showbiz opened up their groaning gates, but Stevie’s lightness wins out; a triumph (is the harmonica more androgynous than his voice? Where does his voice end?) of delayed liberation, the sun which can never set. That scurrying flute chart in the middle eight like February butterflies sent to banish the ice. (Marcello Carlin)

Was just waiting for the brass to kick in and it cut to the next track :-( The version on the compilation mp3 has more bass than the one I ripped from my CD of his too. Am now wondering if I need to embark on the great re-ripping-at-higher-quality project that I've been dreading for years... Easily the best here. (Adrian)

Not my favourite Stevie Wonder song. It's too jazzy for my taste. Still a proper song from a proper singer. (Amanda)

Far too happy-clappy for my tastes. (Hg)

I want to vote for whatever you put from the 60's in first place in all rounds, and you can randomize the other four places. Will you do that for me? I will keep in touch and see if I recognise any of the tunes that come from later than 1969, but I won't pay too much attention to your dissertations on obscure 1990's singers, any more than I read in detail your interviews with the lead singer of the Rusting Gonads. (Vicus Scurra)

1989: Wait - Robert Howard & Kym Mazelle. (134 points)

The unacknowledged brilliance of early ’89 chartpop – as the decade drew to a seemingly inglorious close, back comes New Pop to slap complacency up a big bit – has to be illuminated wherever and whenever possible; see Telstar’s Greatest Hits Of 1989 double for a peerless portrait of how good those times were. The last big chart flourish for the Blow Monkey (and they have now reconvened with a rather fine new album), flourishing fluorescently through the ghost conduits of Detroit Fairlight hushes and determinedly ticking beats with the considerable aid of Kym Mazelle (what a perfect name for the spring charts/spring clean of 1989!). (Marcello Carlin)

One of my favourite records of the year I first became properly obsessed about music, so it perhaps as a slight headstart for me. Sounds great though. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

House and pop and soul and really works on all 3 levels. Tremendous TOTP appearance, too. (Billy Smart)

I probably haven't heard this for 20 years either, so it's a nice reminder how good it is. Two people I saw in the flesh at the time. Bonus points for Kym Mazelle's magnificent breasts, pushed up before me when I was in the audience on The Word. She's great fun. (Chig)

4 points, mainly because it reminds me of coming home from some rubbish night at Rock Citeh with my mate to have a good sneer at Hitman and Her. (Nottingham's 'Mr Sex')

First time I thought the splashes of cymbal were dated, second time I thought they were bewitching. (Tom)

Not really my style, with that computer generated disco beat. But it's intelligently constructively, and I like her voice. And the tune. (Gert)

This song needs a much better chorus. For some reason I kept singing "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" over the existing chorus. Despite this, Kym Mazelle lifts this above the generic 80s dance tune. (asta)

I would have hated this at the time. I'd quite like to like it now, but it sounds dated and formulaic. Historically interesting, I suppose, as a demonstration of where Living In A Box met Ride On Time. (Hg)

Very much of it's time, a bit of an identikit of a lot of disco-ey music being released in the late eighties. Not distinctive, eminently forgettable, but pleasant enough on the ears. (Alan)

Can't stand his voice but this has the most life of all these songs. (Geoff Mild Peril)

I loved this era, but this one didn't really stand out for me. Mind you, could that video *be* more 80s? (Sarah)

That instrumentation just says late 80s doesn't it? Didn't think I remembered this until it got to the chorus. That's not a good sign is it? (Adrian)

No. I'm not having it. Dated production and overwrought and under-thought-through vocal performances. (SwissToni)

They may have been Socialists, but I loathed and despised the Blow Monkeys with a passion. Plus, he had stupid hair, even by 80s standards. (An Unreliable Witness)

Laboured vocal performances and faux funk backing. (Amanda)

2009: T-Shirt - Shontelle. (109 points)

Not unpleasant. Not a capped sleeve t-shirt, I presume? (Geoff Mild Peril)

Not sure why but I just like this the best. (Amanda)

Gosh, there still is decent music outside of my narrow ouevre. (NiC)

It's debatable whether or not the world needs Rihanna 2.0, as version 1.0 seems capable of hoovering up the music-buying public's money all on her own, thank you very much, but I quite like this. (Chig)

I'm so out of touch with the charts these days. This sounds vaguely familiar, but I've never sat down and listened to it properly. I love the chord progression in the chorus, it has an anthemic quality that reminds me obscurely of U2's With Or Without You. (Hg)

Would probably have scored higher if it was one of the various records it sounds like it's ripping off rather blatantly. (Geoff Itinerant Londoner)

The album’s decent enough without being startlingly brilliant but “T-Shirt” is a good medium strength post-Rihanna ballad; more winking than worried. (Marcello Carlin)

Passable but you’ve heard this kind of thing hundreds of times before – granted, the lyric has an original twist. (Erithian)

Like the phased backing: this is mid-ranking current R&B lifted by a strong chorus. (Tom)

Not too sure about the lyrics, but a reasonably pleasant pop track gives it the nod over the other also-rans. (Adrian)

Also quite good. It doesn't induce any sense of fondness in me, really. Maybe if I come back to it in 2029 it will feel out of time and its stranger qualities will become more apparent. (Billy Smart)

It's like watered down Rihanna, sort of decent but too pointless. (Simon C)

I could do without the vocal effect. There is a vocal effect right? Still bland and missing an umbrella. (Will)

Really? I have to vote this in as second? It's vapid shite, isn't it? Dear oh dear. Nice rhyming of "witchoo" with "Jimmy Choos" though, eh? (SwissToni)

A local radio station had fun one day playing this song cut with bits of Natasha Bedingfield. Listeners couldn't tell the difference. Nuff said. (asta)

I literally cannot listen to this: there is a weird production effect that hurts my ears. (Sue Bailey)

Tries to be sexy, fails miserably, really quite bland. (Alan)

Anonymously dreary R&B. I would have been more impressed if her boyfriend's t-shirt had said 'I'm With Stupid'. It didn't. I lost interest about 2 seconds into the R&B drum machine regulation pattern kicking in. (An Unreliable Witness)

If this were one of my 8 Desert Island Discs, I'd smash the gramophone. (diamond geezer)

1979: Car 67 - Driver 67. (104 points)

Strip away the novelty trappings and this gentle, melancholic song expresses a sparse heartache that (wing-)mirrors the best of country & western. Within the first minute I was thinking someone could do a great cover version (Bonnie Prince Billy?), then the TOTP2 video tells us it's already been done by Belle & Sebastian. I'm no fan of B&S, but I feel validated. (Hg)

Oh, this has worn much better than I might have expected. I must be getting old to be almost giving a novelty single top spot. (NiC)

I dont know why, but I have always had an affection for cheap novelty songs and the 70's had PLENTY of them. (jo)

Entirely unfamiliar, highly intriguing, I enjoy those broad brummie vowels. (Tom)

If it's good enough for the Queen Mum, it's good enough for me. (diamond geezer)

Although I voted it my least favourite, I've become borderline-obsessed with "Car 67" over the last 24 hours. For a supposed novelty song, there's something unexpectedly lugubrious about its delivery; something recognisably late-70s ramshackle about its arrangement and execution (it somehow captures the spirit of dowdy, prosaic everyday existence most effectively), and something unexpectedly heart-warming about the cheerful Brummie guy back at base, burbling away in an essentially well-meaning and sympathetic fashion. So I might have underestimated it! (mike)

Initially you want to dismiss it. Then it becomes rather compelling. Certainly presents the listener with a fully realised world. (Billy Smart)

Never heard it before, and although it is clearly the most dated of all the contenders, and a novelty record to boot, it's actually quite interesting. (Hedgie)

I was quite fond of this one back in the day. Yay for the Brummie accent. (Wasn’t The Streets’ dad was he??) (Erithian)

3 points. This might just be a bit nostalgia for things Brummy on my part. I'd completely forgotten it so it evidently didn't make much impression the first time round. (Amanda)

3 points. But only, and I repeat ONLY, for the accents, and the fact that the driver looks like a younger, thinner Timothy Spall. (An Unreliable Witness)

Ah, Paul Phillips, erstwhile boss of Logo Records and sometime producer of John Howard, with a disc best described as R Dean Taylor does Crossroads and which I routinely got mixed up at the time with Paul Evans’ contemporaneous (but rather creepier) “Hello This Is Joannie.” Probably a far more accurate reflection of the Winter of Discontent than most of its illustrious chartmates (do I even see Numan hovering in the faraway distance?) but not really worth regular revisits. I presume it’s Phillips’ great personal mate Pete Zorn on accordion duties. (Marcello Carlin)

I cannot believe I've never heard this before, as it coincided with my obsession with the charts and going to Spend-It in Top Valley on Tuesday dinnertimes. I can't believe someone would even consider releasing the follow-up in the era of the Yorkshire Ripper - it sounds like a darker Yorkie advert. (Nottingham's 'Mr Sex')

Haven't heard this before, is this from a little-known Brummie version of Convoy? (Adrian)

Like Convoy all over again. Quite enjoyed it but found the Brummie inserts distracting - and yet did want to go back and listen all over again. Rubbernecking. (Will)

I'm loving the regional accent, but not really finding terribly much else to enjoy about this record. The Brummie is the best part of this by bloody miles. (SwissToni)

Point of information. That's no Brummy accent in Car 67; that's a Black Country accent. It's more Dudley/West Bromwich than Birmingham. Believe me, these things matter up here. I live in one and work in the other! (Chig)

It's not terrible, but it somehow lacks a climax - the reveal in the song is all too obvious. Also, the back at base voice adds very little value. (The Lurker)

Brings back memories,and not in a good way. One of those songs that is quite interesting on one hearing, but has nothing to justify a repeat heating. (Gert)

Gimmicky and derivative. (Sue Bailey)

Thank heavens Taxi-pop never caught on. Uggh, and a lilting accordion to boot. (Stereoboard)

I never liked novelty songs. I am fast approaching the point where I actively despise them. (asta)

I think I must have repressed this song from my memory, and I'm not going to thank you for reminding me of it. Nauseating sentimental shite recorded to give mums and dads something to listen to because punk made their ears bleed. (Alan)

1999: Westside - TQ. (93 points)

A classic which you converted me to back when you did best of year cds (remember cds, readers?) (Dymbel)

A fine, dark night of a gangsta ballad and something of a signpost of the duality to come in the succeeding millennium (David Banner in particular) but as with yourself I don’t think he quite got the thuggery/wistful balance right on the album. (Marcello Carlin)

The gangster balladeer balance is always quite interesting to follow. (Billy Smart)

Atmospheric and with some nice lyrical touches, evocative of life on the streets without too much of the over-the-top Gangsta bravado. (Alan)

This probably sounds lovely on a hazy summer's day, but I can't do mellow at this time of the year. (Objectivity? What's that?) (Hg)

Pleasant enough but I can't identify the special qualities that Mike does. (Amanda)

I should pay more attention to the names really. As it kicked off I thought to myself, this doesn't sound like Westlife... Thank god for that. Not that this is a lot better, but it's fairly harmless listening. (Adrian)

Couldn't muster much enthusiasm for this but it grew on me as it went on and on. S'all right I s'pose. (Will)

I don't know this singer at all. I have no desire to learn anything about him. It's all a bit too Boyz 2 Men for my likeing, so the reference at the end to Tupac threw me a bit. My first thought was he was looking for validation in name-dropping. (asta)

Oh good grief, did he just do the old "waving their hands in the air like they just don't care"? Maybe that wasn't a cliche at the time... (Sarah)

Rap and nostalgia don't mix. (Sue Bailey)

Smug cliquey geographical tosh. (diamond geezer)

Am I the only commenter who is filled with a burning desire to hear Blue's "Fly By II" listening to this? (Tom)

Not great. Name-checking greater rappers does not a great rapper make. Well, sometimes it does, but not in TQ's case. Oddly reminds me of Blue. (SwissToni)

I approached this with an open mind, having not heard it for ten years and reading your fulsome praise, but sorry, it was crap then and it's crap now. Boring cocktail music for Independent readers who think rap's a bit 'edgy'. And no song that mentions gunshots gets airtime in my house; we have some standards. Zzzzzz. (The bit about gunshots was a hypocritical lie, I have suddenly realised, as MIA's Paper Planes is rarely off my playlist. Damn my inconsistent moral standards!) (Chig)

What does TQ stand for, anyway? Tangy Quail? Terrible Quality? Tight Queen? I don't know. I don't want to know. I skipped through the song and alighted on a bit where he said 'Break it down, yeah'. Then I had to stab myself. (An Unreliable Witness)