107. Ricky Valance – Tell Laura I Love Her (1960)

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As the summer of 1960 turned to Autumn, heavy rainfall caused severe flooding in the valley of the River Exe and surrounding areas of Devon, and on 7 October, flooding takes place in Horncastle, Lincolnshire. To this day (26 March 2018), it still holds the UK record for the highest 180-min total rainfall at 178mm. Six days earlier, Nigeria was the latest country to gain its independence from the UK. The Sheffield Tramway closed on 8 October, leaving Blackpool as the only place in England using electric trams, and on 17 October the daily News Chronicle stopped publishing, becoming absorbed into the Daily Mail.

During these three weeks, Ricky Valance became the first Welsh male artist to hit the number 1 spot, with one of the more famous teenage tragedy songs of the early 1960s, Tell Laura I Love Her. This genre had been growing in popularity from the mid-to-late 50s, melding rock’n’roll with the stories normally told in folk ballads. The first notable example of these songs was Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller’s Black Denim Trousers and Motorcycle Boots, sang by the Cheers. This song grew in popularity following James Dean’s death in a car accident in 1955. However, the first teenage tragedy song to hit number 1 in the UK had only happened in March 1960. Johnny Preston’s Running Bear had been an unusual track, telling the tale of the doomed romance of two Indians, complete with politically incorrect Indian chanting from George Jones and JP ‘The Big Bopper’ Richardson (who had written the track before his untimely death in 1959). Tell Laura I Love Her had been written by Jeff Barry and Ben Raleigh. Barry went on to write or co-write some of the biggest songs of the 60s, including Do Wah Diddy Diddy, Be My Baby, River Deep – Mountain High and Leader of the Pack.

Tell Laura I Love Her had been a big hit in the US for Ray Peterson, but Decca Records refused to release it in the UK, considering it ‘tasteless and vulgar’. 20,000 copies that had already been made were destroyed. An over-the-top reaction, no doubt, but for many, the permissive 60s were yet to actually happen. The BBC were also loathe to play these ‘death discs’, but the Beeb had banned songs before, and it hadn’t stopped them reaching number 1 (see David Whitfield and Frankie Laine‘s versions of Answer Me). Not that this song was particularly vulgar, anyway. So when EMI Columbia offered the track to their new signing, Ricky Valance, he seized the opportunity, and with hit-making producer Norrie Paramore involved, the number 1 spot became his.

Valance had been born David Spencer in 1939 in Ynysddu, Monmouthshire, Wales. He had joined the RAF aged 17, before going on to perform in clubs, and subsequently getting noticed by an A&R representative for EMI. With his sweet voice and good looks, Valance was a great choice for the label.

Tell Laura I Love Her tells the tragic tale of teenagers Tommy and Laura. Tommy wants to marry Laura, and decides to enter a stock car race, with the hope of using the prize money to buy her a wedding ring. However, the race goes horribly wrong, and Tommy is killed when his car overturns and sets alight. Lyricist Barry was a big fan of cowboy culture and originally Tommy entered a rodeo, but RCA had insisted it became a stock car to make it more in keeping with the present fashions, which was probably a wise move.

The song doesn’t get off to a great start, as the verses are rather functional and dull, and the ‘bom-bom-bom-bom’ backing vocal really ruins the mood. The chorus is great, though. Memorable and sad, it lifts an otherwise average song, and Valance’s tender voice fits it like a glove. The lyrics might seem hokey now, but that’s par for the course with this sub-genre. It pales in comparison to recent classics such as Shakin’ All Over and Apache, though.

Tell Laura I Love Her sold over a million in 1960. Although it was his only UK number 1, Movin’ Away went to the top in Australia and Scandinavia. A year later, Valance entered A Song for Europe, but only made it to third place. His name soon slipped from  the public eye, but he continued to perform on the cabaret and nostalgia circuit. Following severe depression and a nervous breakdown he became a born-again Christian, and still continues to release music.

Written by: Jeff Barry & Ben Raleigh

Producer: Norrie Paramor

Weeks at number 1: 3 (29 September-19 October)

106. The Shadows – Apache (1960)

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From 25 August to 11 September 1960, Great Britain and Northern Ireland competed in the Olympics, held in Rome. It wasn’t a great performance, with only two gold medals, six silver and 12 bronze brought home. On the same day, Cliff Richard and the Shadows were deposed from the top of the charts by… the Shadows (with a cameo from Cliff). This unusual turn of events came about because the Shadows had a recording contract separate to their one as a backing band for the UK’s most popular artist at the time. Their instrumental, Apache, is of course one of the most memorable and evocative pre-Beatles UK singles, and catapulted them to super-stardom, making Hank Marvin, Bruce Welch, Jet Harris and Tony Meeham the first backing band to step out of the shadows (sorry) and become as popular as their frontman.

As previously stated in my blogs for Living Doll and Travellin’ Light, the Shadows were originally known as the Drifters, and none of the original line-up remained by 1960. When Cliff recorded his first hit, the influential Move It, the band consisted of founder Ken Pavey, Terry Smart, Norman Mitham and Ian Samwell. Samwell had written Move It, but only he and Smart were allowed to play on the recording, and that had taken some persuasion. By the time of the recording of Living Doll, the famous line-up was in place. Hank Marvin, the guitar wizard and most well-known band member, had been hired partly due to his Buddy Holly-style spectacles. Originally, Tony Sheridan, who later recorded My Bonnie with the Beatles, had been in the frame. Jet Harris had christened the group the Shadows just before their second number 1,  Travellin’ Light. The four-piece had released a few of their own singles, but none made it to the charts, until they struck gold with Apache.

Singer-songwriter Jerry Lordan’s tune I’ve Waited So Long had been a hit for Anthony Newley in 1959, and his biggest solo hit, Who Could Be Bluer?, was produced by George Martin, and performing well when Lordan was supporting the Shadows early in 1960. He had been watching the 1954 western Apache, starring Burt Lancaster, and was inspired to write an instrumental on his ukelele. He presented the tune to the Shadows on the tour bus. The influential guitarist Burt Weedon had recorded a version, yet to be released, but Lordan wasn’t a fan, and figured the Shadows could make a better job of it. He wasn’t wrong.

Apache begins with foreboding beats, achieved by none other than Cliff himself, banging away on a Chinese drum. This was the first time Cliff had sounded dangerous since Move It. And it certainly makes for a more effective sound than the impressions of Indians that feature on Johnny Preston’s Running Bear. That famous, hazy surf guitar sound that then enters and really makes Apache came about when cockney singer Joe Brown gave away his echo chamber to Hank Marvin, who played around with it and the tremolo arm of his Fender Stratocaster. You can laugh at how nice and polite the Shadows used to look now, with their funny little choreographed walk and beaming faces, but Apache is a hell of a performance, sounding dangerous, modern, and very cool, as well as achieving what Lordan wanted from the track  – namely something that brought to mind the drama, courage and savagery of the Indians in Burt Lancaster’s film. Although the spotlight falls on Marvin, this is a group performance, and the other three really shine too.

Bizarrely, Norrie Paramor, who usually had a great ear for a hit and had produced plenty of chart-toppers, wasn’t that keen at first, and neither were their record label. Paramor preferred The Quatermasster’s Stores, but admitted at 40 he was perhaps growing out-of-touch, and let his teenage daughter decide. She picked ‘the Indian one’, and Apache slowly creeped to number 1 for five weeks, inspiring countless guitarists. Cliff was gracious and found the idea of being usurped by his own band amusing, and no bad blood resulted.

Of course, Apache went further than influencing rock’n’roll. Michael Viner’s Incredible Bongo Band, a project started by MGM executive Viner, released the album Bongo Rock in 1973. The second track was a fantastic cover of Apache, featuring a now legendary drum break by Jim Gordon, formerly of Derek and the Dimons. That breakbeat became as ubiquitous to hip-hop as James Brown’s Funky Drummer, appearing in early DJ sets by pioneers such as Afrika Bambaataa and Grandmaster Flash. You’ll recognise it from the Sugarhill Gang’s fun version of Apache, from Grandmaster Flash’s The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash on the Wheels of Steel (both 1981), and the West Street Mob’s Break Dance (Electric Boogie) (1983), and they’re just the obvious ones. Why is Gordon not recognised for this contribution to modern music? Perhaps because in 1983, he murdered his mother during a psychotic episode. In fact, yes, I’m certain that’s why.

On 15 September, while Apache was still chopping down all competition, an evil scourge began stalking the streets of London, and life for motorists was never the same again. The dreaded traffic wardens were here, for good.

Written by: Jerry Lordan

Producer: Norrie Paramor

Weeks at number 1: 5 (25 August-28 September)

Births:

Actor Hugh Grant – 9 September
Actor Colin Firth – 10 September
Actor Danny John-Jules – 16 September
Race car driver Damon Hill – 17 September 

Deaths:

Actress Amy Veness – 22 September
Suffragette Sylvia Pankhurst – 27 September 

105. Johnny Kidd & the Pirates – Shakin’ All Over (1960)

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When I first saw that Shakin’ All Over was a number 1 in 1960, I was surprised. I’ve always admired the song, but I’d never looked into it and assumed it was recorded around the height of Beatlemania, sometime between 1963-65. I also thought that Johnny Kidd & the Pirates could perhaps be American, as the song has an attitude and energy that British artists often struggled to achieve back then. So I was even more surprised and impressed to discover that an English group was capable of such a great song upon working my way through every UK number 1. Finally, a homegrown group that could achieve a rock’n’roll sound without sounding like a pale imitation of Elvis Presley, or the polite pop sound that was prevalent at the time. Shakin’ All Over is a brilliant achievement, and the best number 1 by a UK act up to this point. Johnny Kidd & the Pirates also put some effort into their look – their pirate regalia giving them a unique, distinct appearance. These rough and ready rockers were exploring unchartered waters.

Johnny Kidd was born Frederick Albert Heath in Willesden, North London, in 1935. He began playing guitar in the skiffle group the Frantic Four. Heath quickly established himself as a prolific songwriter, crossing over genres such as skiffle, rock’n’roll and rockabilly. In 1959, Freddie Heath and the Nutters, as they were then known (unfortunately) signed with HMV and recorded their first single, Please Don’t Touch. This slice of dirty rock’n’roll ultimately proved influential – Lemmy was a fan, and later chose to cover it in a collaboration between Motörhead and Girlschool (under the name Headgirl), but at the time only made the top 30. Record buyers in the late 50s simply weren’t ready for a noise like this is seems. Before its release, HMV understandably insisted on a name change, and it seems they bestowed the name Johnny Kidd & the Pirates upon them. They struggled through another couple of singles, adding and losing members along the way.

By May 1960, the group consisted of Johnny Kidd, with Alan Caddy on guitar, Clem Cattini on drums and bassist Brian Gregg. They were scheduled to record a cover of Ricky Nelson’s Yes, Sir That’s My Baby, but were told they could come up with the B-side. The day before the session, Kidd, Caddy and Gregg decided to write ‘any old rubbish’. Kidd later claimed that if he and his mates saw a stunning girl in the street, they would say she gave them ‘quivers down the membranes’. They got up early the next morning and created the song in Gregg’s living room before hitting the studio. Somewhere along the way, Caddy called session guitarist Joe Moretti in to perform lead guitar, and it was he that came up with that brilliant chiming guitar sound, sliding a cigarette lighter up and down the fretboard. Needless to say, Shakin’ All Over was soon promoted over Yes, Sir That’s My Baby.

What an inspired piece of music Shakin’ All Over is. It’s seedy, raunchy, dangerous and heavy, like nothing that had ever come before from England. The guitar work is perfect and innovative, but the bass is also turned up louder than anything I’d heard up to this point, so credit must also go to producer Wally Ridley. And Kidd wipes the floor with other British vocalists, proving rock’n’roll didn’t have to sound like a poor man’s imitation of other artists.

Shakin’ All Over deserved a long run at the top, but was perhaps too much too soon for most record buyers, and Please Don’t Tease returned to number 1 a week later – but which track is now considered a classic? Kidd & the Pirates developed a stage act that had a big effect on audiences, with Kidd donning an eye patch and waving a cutlass around. Watching the band on stage was enough to persuade guitarists Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend of the Detours to sack their singer so Daltrey could become a showboating singer. The Who later returned the favour by covering Shakin’ All Over on their seminal live album, Live at Leeds. Kidd also used an echo unit to process his live vocals, a rare occurrence at the time.

The Pirates soon splintered, with several members jumping ship and creating so many spin-off groups it’s hard to keep track. Several years went by and a debut album was being worked on, but the Beatles had changed the pop landscape, and Kidd couldn’t regain momentum. On 7 October 1966, he and new bassist (and future Deep Purple member) Nick Simper were returning from a cancelled gig in Bolton when they were involved in a car accident. Kidd was killed, aged only 30. He remains sadly a one-hit wonder, but what a hit it was.

Surprisingly, Shakin’ All Over was only a UK hit, until Canadian group Chad Allen and the Expressions decided to cover it. Their version, extremely similar to the original, was hyped by their record label, who had decided to create some intrigue. Was this by one of those British bands that had become so famous around the world? They credited the single to ‘Guess Who?’. Disc jockeys mistakenly thought that was the name of the group, and so they became the Guess Who. Allen and co hated their name, as it got them mixed up with another act that were on the rise, who also performed Shakin’ All Over. Guess Who?

Written by: Johnny Kidd & Guy Robinson

Producer: Wally Ridley

Weeks at number 1: 1 (4-10 August)

104. Cliff Richard and the Shadows – Please Don’t Tease (1960)

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30 July 1960: At the third Beaulieu Jazz Festival in Hampshire, riots break out between the teenage progressive jazz fans and the older trad jazz brigade. Following a stage invasion, 39 people were injured and a building was set on fire, causing the BBC to pull its coverage early.

So it would seem that teenage rebellion was to be found in the jazz world in 1960, because it’s hard to imagine anyone getting fired up to the sound of most of the number 1s of that year so far, and Cliff Richard and the Shadows’ Please Don’t Tease is certainly no exception. Cliff’s fans are to blame for his third chart-topper. In an unusual gimmick for the time, Columbia Records assembled a panel of youngsters to listen to a batch of unreleased tracks from Cliff and co, and Please Don’t Tease was the winner, with Nine Times Out of Ten the runner-up (it became the subsequent single, but didn’t make it to number 1). The fans picked well, as their hero’s last two singles only made it to number 2. Please Don’t Tease had been written by Shadows rhythm guitarist Bruce Welch and Pete Chester, son of comedian Charlie Chester. Hank Marvin and Welch had been in Chester’s band, the Five Chesternuts (groan) before joining Cliff Richard and the Drifters (as they were called originally).

It’s hard to write about this single, as it’s so flimsy it’s impossible to remember. It’s like a castrated version of Move It, that tries to sound like Elvis or Buddy Holly, but is so wet and polite, it’s laughable. Cliff’s getting mighty cross that his lady friend is messing him around. He’s sick to death of her playing it ‘oh so doggone cool’, and he’s so annoyed, ooh, he’s going to… ask her to please kindly refrain from teasing him, because it’s really upsetting him. Now I prefer a gentlemanly Cliff to the idea of him locking his girl up in a trunk, but come on Cliff, show some balls, please! And while you’re at it, please don’t ever attempt to sing the word ‘hurricane’ in an American accent again. Ah well, at least, like most 1960 songs, it doesn’t outstay its welcome. Oh wait, it does. For some reason, Please Don’t Tease goes on for over three minutes. On the plus side, Marvin’s guitar solo is pretty good.

After a week at number 1, Johnny Kidd & the Pirates’ rightly toppled Cliff with the astounding Shakin’ All Over, but somehow Please Don’t Tease returned for a further fortnight at the top. What an injustice. During its second stint, Cyrpus gained independence from the UK, as of 16 August, and a day later, a five-piece performing in Hamburg, West Germany played their first concert under a new name. Would the Beatles stick with it? Only time would tell. And on 22 August, the first performance of the satirical review Beyond the Fringe took place in Edinburgh. Featuring Alan Bennett, Peter Cook, Jonathan Miller and Dudley Moore, the show received a lukewarm response until it moved to London.

Written by: Bruce Welch & Pete Chester

Producer: Norrie Paramor

Weeks at number 1: 3 (28 July-3 August, 11-24 August) 

Births:

Darts player Phil Taylor – 13 August
Singer Sarah Brightman – 14 August 

103. Jimmy Jones – Good Timin’ (1960)

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One of my favourite songs by one of my favourite groups, Something Changed by Pulp is quite unlike most of the songs from their era of fame in the mid-1990s. It’s a sweet love song, that ponders on how lives can be changed forever by the timing of random events. ‘What’s this got to do with a number 1 single from 1960?’, you might ask. Well, Jimmy Jones’s Good Timin’ is similarly themed, although it fails to move me in the same way.

Good Timin’ was written by Fred Tobias and Clint Ballard Jr (later to write I’m Alive, a 1965 number 1 for The Hollies) as a follow-up to Jimmy Jones’ smash hit, Handy Man. Jones was born in Birmingham, Alabama in 1937. He was a tap dancer before joining the doo-wop group the Berliners in 1954, before they changed their name to the Sparks of Rhythm. The group recorded the song after Jones had left them in 1956. Now a solo artist, Jones decided to rework Handy Man with Otis Blackwell, who wrote two legendary UK number 1s, All Shook Up and Great Balls of Fire. Blackwell could do no wrong back then, and with his memorable whistle featuring on the track, it rocketed to the top 3 in the US and UK.

Good Timin’ has more energy than many of the number 1s of the 60s that precede it, but it’s a minor entry at best, and probably did so well off the back of Handy Man. Jones compares the timing of his relationship with that of the story of David and Goliath, pointing out that if it wasn’t for good timing, David wouldn’t have found the stone that he used to kill Goliath. Hmm, this seems a bit incongruous to me. I can’t help comparing it to Something Changed, which is unfair I know, but:

‘Do you believe that there’s someone up above/And does he have a timetable directing acts of love?’ is far more effective than:

‘If little, little David hadn’t grabbed that stone
Alyin’ there on the ground
Big Goliath might’ve stomped on him
Instead of the other way ’round’.

Ah well, Good Timin’ is more about the feel and sound I guess. Trouble is, that doesn’t do a lot for me either. Jones’s appeal lay in his falsetto, which was to be an influence on Del Shannon (of Runaway fame), but the way he sings ‘A tock, a tock, a tock, a tock’ in the chorus sounds ridiculous to these ears. Nonetheless, it was catchy enough to enjoy a three-week stint at the top.

Jones’s good timing started to run out after this song, with a few more hits troubling the charts before he faded into obscurity. He did however make the news when he sued Boy George, claiming he plagiarised Handy Man for Culture Club’s 1983 number 1 Karma Chameleon, changing ‘Come-a, come-a, come-a, come-a…’ to ‘Karma, karma, karma, karma…’. They settled out of court, with Boy George later claiming it took ’10 pence and an apple’ (according to New York Daily News‘ obituary on Jones). Jones was a fixture on the Northern Soul circuit for the last two decades of his life. He died in 2012, aged 82.

Written by: Fred Tobias & Clint Ballard Jr

Producer: Otis Blackwell

Weeks at number 1: 3 (7-27 July)

Births:

Actress Caroline Quentin – 11 July
Private Eye editor Ian Hislop – 13 July
Journalist Simon Heffer – 18 July 

102. Eddie Cochran – Three Steps to Heaven (1960)

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Following Buddy Holly’s death, record labels soon cottoned on to the effectiveness of a posthumous single, with It Doesn’t Matter Anymore hitting the top soon after the infamous plane crash that instantly killed him, JP Richardson (The Big Bopper) and Ritchie Valens in 1959. A year later, Holly’s friend and fellow young rockabilly and rock’n’roll talent Eddie Cochran also died tragically, and soon after, he too reached the number 1 spot.

Cochran was born in October 1938 in Albert Lea, Minnesota. He became hooked on music in his early teens, learning guitar and playing along to country songs he heard on the radio. The family moved to California in 1952, and Cochran soon dropped out of high school to take the risk and become a full-time musician. He formed a duo with Hank Cochran, and they became the Cochran Brothers (they weren’t related). During this time he also began writing material for himself and demoing solo work in studios when he could. Like his future friend Buddy Holly, he was naturally gifted from a young age, and keen to progress musically. Cochran received his big break in 1956, when he was asked to appear in the musical comedy The Girl Can’t Help It, starring Jayne Mansfield. The rock’n’roll element of the film was originally intended as a satirical subplot, but all it did was speed up the genre’s popularity by bringing rock’n’roll onto the big screen. Eddie Cochran performed Twenty Flight Rock. The performance was so iconic, Paul McCartney later used it as his audition piece to join John Lennon’s Quarrymen (see here). With his film idol looks and a killer track, Cochran was bound for stardom.

The summer of 1958 saw the release of his most famous work. The self-penned Summertime Blues is of course, a classic, perhaps most famously covered by The Who. Further great tracks followed, including C’mon, Everybody (later re-released on the back of its appearance in a Levi’s jeans advert in 1988) and Something Else. Both these tracks were covered by the Sex Pistols, but after Johnny Rotten had departed. Cochran’s interest in getting the best out of recording in a studio was developing, and all his classic tracks featured guitar overdubs to create that unique sound. I wonder how this would have developed had he lived when psychedelia became popular?

Cochran was deeply affected by the deaths of Holly, Richardson and Valens, and recorded Three Stars in tribute to them. He began to have premonitions that he too would die young, and told family and friends that he wanted to spend more time in the studio to avoid suffering a similar fate. However, he needed the money, and pop impresario Larry Parnes made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. At the time, Parnes had quite a stable of homegrown rock’n’roll stars, including Billy Fury, Johnny Gentle (love that name) and Tony Sheridan (who the Beatles later backed, on their recording debut). Cochran accepted the offer to travel to the UK, along with his friend, Gene Vincent, and be the two biggest acts on the tour. Rock’n’roll fans loved the shows, and Cochran has been credited as having introduced the music of Ray Charles to UK audiences, with a blistering performance of What’d I Say.

The final show, at the Bristol Hippodrome, took place on 16 April. Cochran and his fiancée Sharon Sheeley were keen to get back to the US, and he asked for a lift with Johnny Gentle, but his car was full. Instead, the couple, Vincent and tour manager Pat Thompkins opted for a taxi. Travelling through Chippenham, Wiltshire, the speeding taxi blew a tire at a notorious black spot. The driver, George Martin (thankfully not the Beatles producer) lost control, and the car span backwards into a lamppost. Instinctively, Cochran threw himself over Sheeley to protect her, but a door flew open and he was thrown out of the car. Martin, Thompkins and Sheeley were uninjured, and Vincent had broken his collarbone, but Cochran’s head injuries were fatal. Martin was convicted for dangerous driving but had his license returned in 1969, but one of the music world’s most promising stars was gone, aged only 21.

Three Steps to Heaven had been recorded that January, with backing from the Crickets. It has their mark all over it, and is unlike Cochran’s earlier tracks, adopting the prevailing soft-pop sound of the time. Cochran adopts a smooth croon, not unlike Elvis, and the backing vocals bring to mind those of the Jordanaires. The three steps to heaven are to fall in love, get someone to fall in love with you back, and make them feel loved. It hasn’t aged as well as his other hits, but the opening riff is classic Cochran, and David Bowie seems to have been a fan, having come up with something very similar on Hunky Dory‘s Queen Bitch in 1971. The lyrics to Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)’ opening track, It’s No Game (No. 1) in 1980 also mention ‘free steps to heaven’. Whether it would have been released as a single had Cohran not died, I’m not sure, but it’s mention of heaven made it a natural choice. Strangely, the song didn’t do nearly as well in his home country. Perhaps the fact the accident took place in the UK made the tragedy hit his British fans harder.

Over the years, Eddie Cochran’s star seems to have diminished, which seems a shame. He was one of the most innovative and influential musicians of the 1950s. In addition to the stars already mentioned, guitar god Jimi Hendrix had Cochran played at his funeral, on his request. After a gig at the Hackney Empire, Cochran allowed a 13-year-old fan to carry his guitar out to a waiting limousine. The boy, Marc Feld, later became Marc Bolan, who was also to later die in a car accident. Following the crash which killed Cochran, his guitar was impounded at the police station, and a local policeman, David Harman, used the instrument to teach himself how to play. Harman went on to become Dave Dee, of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich fame. A memorial plaque was placed at the site of the accident, and was restored on the 50th anniversary in 2010.

Written by: Eddie Cochran & Bob Cochran

Producers: Eddie Cochran & Jerry Capeheart

Weeks at number 1: 2 (23 June-6 July) 

Births:

Erasure songwriter Vince Clarke – 3 July

Deaths:

Tennis player Lottie Dod – 27 June
Politician Aneurin Bevan – 6 July 

101. The Everly Brothers – Cathy’s Clown (1960)

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6 May 1960 saw Princess Margaret marrying photographer Antony Armstrong-Jones at Westminster Abbey. Margaret had been in love with Peter Townsend, and he had proposed to her in 1953. However, Townsend was divorced and the wedding would have caused ructions in Cabinet, and flown in the face of Royal tradition, and in the end she turned him down. However, Margaret allegedly accepted Armstrong-Jones’s proposal the day after learning that Townsend was to marry Marie-Luce Jamagne, a young woman who bore a strong resemblance to Margaret. This was the first Royal wedding to be televised, but by 1978 they had divorced. A day later, Wolverhampton Wanderers won the FA Cup for the fourth time, defeating Blackburn Rovers 3-0 at Wembley Stadium.

Also that week, country, pop and rock’n’roll duo the Everly Brothers went to number 1 for the second time with Cathy’s Clown. Like their previous number 1, All I Have to Do is Dream/Claudette in 1958, it stayed at the top for seven weeks. Earlier in 1960 the duo had left Cadence Records and signed with Warner Bros. Records. Cathy’s Clown bore the UK catalogue number WB1, and was the first single released by the label in this country. Until this point, Warner Bros. Records had been struggling, and urgently needed a hit. The Everlys were reportedly given $1million to come up with one, and did not disappoint. Originally credited to both Don and Phil, in 1980 a deal was struck to make Don the sole songwriter. This song had been inspired by one of his ex-girlfriends, who one can only assume had dumped him, and the music was influenced by Andre Kostelanetz’s version of the orchestral Grand Canyon Suite.

Cathy’s Clown proved to be one of the most influential songs of the early 1960s, and still appears in lists of the greatest songs of all time. Coming after so many average number 1s in 1960, it’s sophistication marks it as head and shoulders above the competition. It’s all about those rolling drums and the chorus that follows. This was the first number 1 to feature a drum loop, created by engineer Bill Porter looping drummer Buddy Harman and getting him to play on top, manually adding the loop at the start of each chorus. And what a chorus. The Everly Brothers really did produce harmonies like nobody that had come before them, and the voices are just perfect on Cathy’s Clown. You can easily see the influence on the Beatles, (who at one point considered calling themselves The Foreverly Brothers), particularly on the second single, Please Please Me. The lyrics have caused confusion over the years, but to me it seems that Cathy’s clown is the singer of the song, and he’s being repeatedly made to look stupid by Cathy, who’s been cheating on him. His friends consider him a clown, but he can’t help going back for more, despite insisting in the chorus that he’s had enough. These lyrics, like the production, are a cut above your average 1960 fare. The fact it’s probably based on what happened to poor Don with his ex makes the song that bit more authentic. The Everlys did heartbreak very well – see also Bye Bye Love.

Cathy’s Clown became the first single to simultaneously hit number 1 in the US and UK, and they more than lived up to Warner Bros. Records’ expectations. Further hits and number 1s followed, making them one of the greatest acts of the early years of the 60s. The credits for the song are still contentious to this day, however. Following Phil’s death, his remaining family reasserted their rights to royalties. Don sued them to get the rights back in November 2017.

Written by: Don Everly & Phil Everly

Producer: Wesley Rose

Weeks at number 1: 7 (5 May-22 June) 

Births:

Actress Roma Downey – 6 May
Dire Straits keyboardist Guy Fletcher – 24 May
Actress Kristin Scott Thomas – 24 May
‘Chaser’ Shaun Wallace – 2 June
Actor Bradley Walsh – 4 June
Simply Red singer Mick Hucknall – 8 June
Duran Duran bassist John Taylor – 20 June 

Deaths:

Mathematician JHC Whitehead – 8 May
Politician Sir Maurice Bonham Carter – 7 June

100. Anthony Newley – Do You Mind (1960)

On 3 May, Burnley FC won the Football League First Division title. They defeated Manchester City 2-1, meaning that FA Cup finalists Wolverhampton Wanderers missed out on becoming the first team of the 20th century to win both the league title and the FA Cup.

Earlier that week, Anthony Newley scored his second and final number 1, and Do You Mind became the 100th chart-topping single. It was the second number 1 to be written by Lionel Bart, following the best-selling single of 1959, Cliff Richard and The Drifters’ Living Doll. Bart was only a month away from the opening of his musical, Oliver!, which premiered at the New Theatre in the West End on 30 June. The original cast featured Australian comedian Barry Humphries, later to be better known as Dame Edna Everage.

Do You Mind is superior to Newley’s first number 1, Why, but that’s not saying much. Featuring finger clicking and a style that’s not dissimilar from Living Doll, it’s better suited to the cheeky cockney stylings of Newley than the sickly previous single, and once more, you can’t help but imagine the young David Bowie having a go at it. Which is probably what Bowie was trying to achieve with Love You Till Tuesday (and that’s certainly superior to this track). It’s another love song, basically Newley telling his love  how he’s going to shower her with kisses, make an idol of her etc, but with the added bonus of actually checking she’s alright with all that first. So at least he’s more of a gentleman than Cliff Richard, who prefers to lock his girl up in a trunk so no big hunk can steal her away from him.

These two number 1s were only early stages in the start of a very successful career for Newley. This was the last in a series of chart-toppers by cockneys in early 1960, but Newley began working with several figures from this brief ‘scene’. He formed a very successful songwriting partnership Leslie Bricusse, who had helped write Lonnie Donegan’s awful My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer). The material the duo came up with far surpasses anything they had made up to this point. Their first musical, Stop the World – I Want to Get Off (1961) featured the multi-award-winning What Kind of Fool Am I? and they became the first British duo to win the Grammy for Song of the Year. In 1964 they wrote the lyrics for Goldfinger, sang by Shirley Bassey for the James Bond film of the same name. John Barry, who had arranged Adam Faith’s two number 1s, What Do You Want? and Poor Me, composed the music. The same year, they also wrote Feeling Good, which became legendary thanks to Nina Simone in 1965. In 1963 he had married Joan Collins, having already had two wives. They had a son together but split in 1970, remaining friends, and he married again a year later.

In 1971, Newley and Bricusse wrote the music for Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, starring the brilliant Gene Wilder. As I’ve stated here before, I’m not much of a fan of musicals, but I’ve always loved this, and if I’m feeling particularly sentimental and I’m watching it with my daughters, Pure Imagination can almost move me to tears, particularly since the death of Gene Wilder. The Candy Man was also later a big hit for Sammy Davis Jr.

Newley had already married twice before his wedding to Joan CA distinctly British character, Newley couldn’t quite repeat his success abroad, but he did appear on game shows and chat shows in the 1970s. Always versatile, he continued to do well with music, film, TV and theatre, but his star did begin to wane. In 1e992 he took the title role in Scrooge: The Musical. This musical was a stage version of the 1970 film featuring Albert Finney as the miser, with the music by Bricusse. Say what you like but I won’t have anyone tell me that this isn’t the definitive version of A Christmas Carol. There you go, that’s two musicals I’ve admitted loving in one blog. The show ran until 1997, with fellow 50s cockney star Tommy Steele (who had a 1957 number 1 with Singing the Blues) later taking his place.

In 1998 he featured in BBC1’s flagship soap opera EastEnders. He was to become a regular, but ill health took hold. He finally succumbed to cancer in April 1999, aged 67.   So his two number 1s are a poor yardstick to measure Newley with, really, and there was much more to him than the David Bowie comparison. Hopefully though, not as much as Newley’s own son, Sacha, recently claimed. He made news headlines in late 2017 when he said that his father loved young girls and this is what caused the split between him and Joan Collins. But how young? Sacha called his father a paedophile, causing Collins to issue a public statement strongly denying he ever had any involvement with underage girls.

Written by: Lionel Bart

Producer: Ray Horricks

Weeks at number 1: 1 (28 April-4 May)

Births:

Author Ian Rankin – 28 April

Deaths:

Architect Charles Holden – 1 May

99. Lonnie Donegan – My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer) (1960)

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Following Johnny Preston’s Running Bear, the charts took another strange turn. ‘King of Skiffle’ Lonnie Donegan was back, but skiffle wasn’t. It burnt out not long after his second number 1, Gamblin’ Man/Puttin’ On the Style in 1957. So what style was Donegan putting on now? Sadly, it was music hall.

My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer) had its origins in the song My Old Man’s a Fireman (On the Elder Dempster Line), which was a student’s union song in Birmingham before becoming popular with soldiers during World War One. Donegan and his band would perform this on stage, and at some point some foolish A&R man told him he thought it could be a hit. The band adapted it, and once they had enough to work with, decided to record it. My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer) was credited to Donegan and his road manager Peter Buchanan. After its original release, Beverley Thorn also received a credit. Thorn was in fact a pseudonym for Leslie Bricusse, who was soon to enjoy a fruitful writing partnership with Anthony Newley. Why Beverley Thorn? No idea.  The single was recorded live at Gaumont Cinema in Doncaster, Yorkshire, on 20 February, and released a month later, hitting the top very quickly. Why? Again, no idea.

The fact a man responsible for pioneering music like Rock Island Line and Cumberland Gap should become best known for such a dire song is criminal. My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer) should have remained a live skit and nothing more. Now obviously, it made him number 1 for a third time, and opened him up to a new audience, but the release shocked hardcore skiffle fans, and did his credibility no good at all. I have to side with the skiffle fans. I’m no purist, and I have plenty of time for comedy songs too, but I can’t hear anything funny here at all. For example:

‘Lonnie: I say, I say, I say!
Les: Huh?
Lonnie: My dustbin’s full of lilies
Les: Well throw ’em away then!
Lonnie: I can’t: Lily’s wearing them’

Clearly music hall still had a place in the 60s. In fact it was still popular into the 80s, judging by the success of the BBC’s The Good Old Days. Also, Donegan released this at exactly the right time, as, with Adam Faith and Anthony Newley scoring two number 1s each, cockney singers were clearly the in thing. But that craze died down very soon, and by 1962, as several of the acts inspired by him began to make waves, Donegan fell out of favour with mainstream audiences, and he turned to producing instead. In the mid-70s he temporarily reunited with the rest of the Chris Barber Band, but was waylaid by a heart attack in 1976. Two years later, his album Putting On the Style featured re-recordings of his old tracks, with backing from big names such as Ringo Starr, Brian May and Elton John. By the end of the millennium, Donegan had the reputation of a music legend, appearing at Glastonbury Festival in 1999 and becoming an MBE in 2000. However, he had continued to suffer heart problems, and passed away in 2002 at the age of 71.

Lonnie Donegan has been one of the revelations of this blog for me. Although highly-regarded at the end of his life, I feel he should be considered more important for his influence on British music. Had it not been for his incendiary recordings and shows in the mid-50s, the Beatles, the Who and Led Zeppelin may not have existed, and we may have been permanently stuck with the safe pop and easy listening that was so popular in 1960. Cumberland Gap was a very close runner-up for the best number 1 of the 50s, as I stated here. It’s best to remember him for that, and look upon My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer) as a bad joke that got out of hand.

During Donegan’s final four-week rule of the charts, a Mr Bill Griggs of Northampton began marketing Dr Martens boots on 1 April. A week later, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh had their second son christened as Andrew Albert Christian Edward, and on 17 April the music world was shocked when US rock’n’roll star Eddie Cochran, who was touring Britain, was killed in a car crash in Wiltshire. There’ll be more on him in a future blog.

Written by: Lonnie Donegan, Peter Buchanan & Beverly Thorn

Producers: Alan A Freeman & Michael Barclay

Weeks at number 1: 4 (31 March-27 April)

Births:

Athlete Linford Christie – 2 April
Soprano Jane Eaglen – 4 April
Presenter Jeremy Clarkson – 11 April
Chef Gary Rhodes – 22 April
Duran Duran drummer Roger Taylor – 26 April
Author Ian Rankin – 28 April 

98. Johnny Preston – Running Bear (1960)

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On 26 March 1960, the Grand National was televised for the first time, with Merryman II becoming winner. Two days later, tragedy struck in Glasgow when a warehouse fire broke out on Cheapside Street. Over a million gallons of whiskey and rum burned out of control for hours. 19 fire-servicemen were killed, making the incident the worst fire services disaster in peacetime, up to that point.

The number 1 at the time was one strange beast. Breaking an unusually lengthy spell of UK artists at the top (five months) was US rockabilly singer Johnny Preston with an un-PC novelty-teenage death song (these ‘death discs’ were becoming ever more popular) about the forbidden love of two Indians from warring tribes. Sounds interesting, yes?

Preston, of Cajun and German descent, had been born John Preston Courville in 1939. After entering singing contests in high school, he formed his first band, The Shades, who caught the eye of JP Richardson, better known as The Big Bopper, of Chantilly Lace fame. In 1958 they went into the studio with future country legend George Jones and saxophonist Link Davis to record Richardson’s bizarre song, Running Bear.

Certainly one of the weirder number 1s to date, Running Bear begins with cheers before settling down into comedy stereotypical Indian ‘ocka chunka’ chanting from The Big Bopper and Jones, creating the rhythm of the verses, as Preston tells the tragic tale of the star-crossed lovers. It’s actually a good rhythm they create, but tacky and tasteless to modern ears. So, the story is that Running Bear and Little White Dove love each other, but their two tribes hate each other, and as we all know, when two tribes go to war, one is all that you can score. Not only that, there’s a bloody big river separating them. This being the case, I’m not sure of the origins of their love, or how these tribes are managing to do battle, but hey, this isn’t a concept album, you can’t expect the full story I guess. As the verses shift into the chorus, Running Bear changes into your average rock’n’roll track, and the return to the verses afterwards sounds a bit clunky. Before you know it, they’ve decided to meet in the river, have a kiss and drown. And that’s it! I think it’s supposed to come across as romantic, but can’t help seeming a bit stupid. What a way to go. You couldn’t get away with Running Bear now of course, but it’s not as offensive a number 1 as Guy Mitchell’s She Wears Red Feathers. It’s just outdated, and odd, all in all. The musicians seem to be having a good time, and some of that enthusiasm comes across, at least.

Of course, The Big Bopper died alongside Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens in a plane on 3 February 1959, so he never got to see Running Bear become number 1 in the US and subsequently the UK. Due to Richardson’s death, the song got caught up in legal issues, causing its release to be delayed. Perhaps its posthumous release is the reason it did so well, although Richardson isn’t credited as the artist, so how many people would have been aware of the connection? Perhaps it’s just that cowboys and indians were still very popular, and teenage death songs were about to become big. Or maybe it’s just one of those many unsolved mysteries where it’s impossible to work out how a song made it to the top.

The rest of Johnny Preston’s life is fairly mysterious too. His follow-up single, Cradle of Love nearly repeated Running Bear’s success, hitting the top ten in the US and UK. Another release, the rocking Leave My Kitten Alone, was later covered by the Beatles, and is perhaps the best unreleased track of their early years, with Lennon in fine shouty voice. It eventually surfaced on Anthology 1 in 1995. He was entered into the Rockabilly Hall of Fame, and performed on the nostalgia circuit, but eventually retired. He died of heart failure in 2011, aged 71.

I can’t imagine why anyone would cover this track, but when I discovered Tom Jones had recorded a funk version in 1973, I had to have a listen. And you know what, it’s actually pretty good! Take a look at this insane clip from a TV special, with crazy dancing and camerawork. Tom should have got his funk on more often.

Written by: JP Richardson

Producer: Bill Hall

Weeks at number 1: 2 (17-30 March)

Births:

Artist Grayson Perry – 24 March