267. Peter Sarstedt – Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)? (1969)

March 1969 was often cold and wet. Two days in, Concorde completed its 27-minute maiden flight. 4 March saw Ronnie and Reggie Kray both found guilty of murder (Ronnie of George Cornell, Reggie of Jack ‘the Hat’ McVitie). The next day, they were sentenced to life imprisonment with a recommended minimum of 30 years. The notorious twins’ gangland reign of London was over.

On 7 March the Queen opened the Victoria line on the London Underground. Running between Brixton and Walthamstow Central, it was the first entirely new line for 50 years.

One of the worst lifeboat disasters in British history occurred on 17 March when the Longhope from Orkney was lost, killing all eight crew members. Two days later the 385-metre-tall Emley Moor television mast collapsed due to icing.

Ruling the charts from the end of February and for most of March was singer-songwriter Peter Sarstedt, younger brother of Richard, better known as Eden Kane, who had a number 1 in 1961 with Well I Ask You.

Sarstedt was born in Delhi, India in December 1941. One of his younger brothers, Clive (stage name Robin) also enjoyed chart action in 1976. The Sarstedt’s musicality stemmed from their parents, both of whom were classically-trained. Following his father’s death in 1954, the family moved to South London.

The three Sarstedts, all guitarists, became part of a skiffle group called the Fabulous Five. They performed at church halls and coffee bars around Croydon before becoming a beat group known as the Saints, with Richard becoming the singer. Peter switched to bass when Richard became Eden Kane, and played in his backing group until 1965, when Kane moved to Australia.

And so Peter Sarstedt briefly emigrated to Copenhagen, changed his stage name to Peter Lincoln and began writing folk songs. He quickly reverted to his real name, and in 1968 he signed a deal with United Artists.

His first single I Am a Cathedral was a failure, and his label didn’t expect the follow-up to fare any better when presented with Where Do You Go To (My Lovely?). They complained it was too long (the album version is even longer), had only three instruments (one of which was an accordion), and no drums. It’s likely Sarstedt had no intention of this becoming a hit single, to be fair. He was performing in folk clubs, and needed some lengthier material.

How did this waltz-time ballad, filled with references to Gallic culture, make it to number 1 and remain there for a month? I’m scratching my head and can only think it’s exactly those references that did it. Holidays abroad were still a luxury in 1969, and perhaps, like Albatross, the idea of heading off to sunnier climes appealed to a cold, rain-sodden British public. And maybe owners of this record felt smug and sophisticated?

John Peel hated this song, calling it ‘self-satisfied’, ‘terrible’ and ‘hideous’, and he certainly wasn’t the only detractor there’s been. But I can actually enjoy it. I can definitely take his points on board, but I feel it’s so smug, it’s actually enjoyable.

Sarstedt tells the story of Marie-Claire, who grew up in poverty in Naples, and her friend (future lover?), the person singing the song, is basically winding her up about the fact that she can be a beautiful socialite now she’s in her twenties, she can wear expensive jewellery and clothes, she can take expensive holidays, she can have the Aga Khan buy her racehorses, etc, but she can’t escape her past, because he knows how fucked up she is when she’s alone in her bed. Pretty mean-spirited really.

Perhaps she’s left him behind and he feels hard done by, perhaps she fucked him over, perhaps she’s become a horrible, arrogant posh girl… but we’re not told any of this, so the narrator comes across as a pretty nasty piece of work

But like I said, I do enjoy Where Do You Go To (My Lovely?). Me and one of my housemates at university used to listen to a compilation of 60s number 1s, and when this came on, we used to sing little insults at the end of each verse, as though Sartedt’s resentment became a little, let’s say, more basic as his frustration grew, for example: ‘Your clothes are all made by Balmain/And there’s diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are/You fucking twat’. Try it! Once you do, there’s no going back, though. Perhaps if John Peel had done similar, he could have learned to appreciate it.

In a 2009 interview with The Daily Express, Sarstedt revealed Marie-Claire was not based on Sophia Loren, which was a popular misconception, but his ex-wife, who had become a dentist in Copenhagen. As writer Mark Steyn brilliantly put it, ‘Peter Sarstedt has spent 40 years singing about wanting to look inside her head. And for most of that time Anita has made a living by looking inside yours.’

Where Do You Go To (My Lovely?) enjoyed success throughout Europe, as well as Australia and Japan, but failed in the US. Sarstedt’s number 1 even shared the Ivor Novello award for best song of 1969 with David Bowie’s Space Oddity. However, apart from the follow-up Frozen Orange Juice and his eponymous debut LP, he had no further chart fame.

During the 70s he teamed up with his brothers again for the 1973 album Worlds Apart Together. He spent much of the 80s on the Solid Silver 60s nostalgia tour. In 1997 he released the album England’s Lane, which featured his brothers one last time, and it also included a sequel to Marie-Claire’s story, The Last of the Breed, which featured a more sympathetic chorus: ‘You keep your secrets inside Marie-Claire/What right have the paparazzi to pry?/No-one’s interested in knowing the truth/But they’ll always believe in a lie’.

There were more albums in the 21st century, including On Song in 2006. The following year, Where Do You Go To (My Lovely?) enjoyed a brief renaissance thanks to it featuring in the Wes Anderson movie The Darjeeling Limited.

2010 saw the singer-songwriter perform for the last time. In 2013 he released his final album, Restless Heart. He was working on the third and final part of his Marie-Claire trilogy when he fell ill that year and was misdiagnosed with dementia. Sarstedt went to live in a retirement home and was diagnosed correctly with progressive supranuclear palsy two years later. He died in 2017, aged 75.

Written by: Peter Sarstedt

Producer: Ray Singer

Weeks at number 1: 4 (26 February-25 March)

Births:

Super Furry Animals drummer Dafydd Ieuan – 1 March

Deaths:

Author John Wyndham – 11 March
Bandleader Billy Cotton – 25 March

266. Amen Corner – (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice (1969)

17 years after the New Musical Express began the first singles chart, an official version finally appeared, the week commencing 12 February 1969. The BBC and Record Retailer (the music industry publication whose chart tends to be recognised as ‘official’ from 1960 up to this point) commissioned the British Market Research Bureau to compile it, therefore ending arguments over which chart people should follow. The BMRB’s first chart was compiled from postal returns from sales logs of 250 shops, randomly chosen from a pool of approximately 6,000. The logs were then translated into punch cards which would be translated by a computer. The computer would compile the chart each Monday, and the BBC were informed of the top 50 each Tuesday, in time for it to be announced on Johnnie Walker’s Radio 1 afternoon show.

This means (I think) that the first 100% ‘official’ UK number 1 single was Amen Corner’s (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice. Which is the most interesting thing about this minor blog entry.

This Welsh seven-piece (okay, that’s pretty unusual, too) had formed in Cardiff in late 1966. They consisted of singer Andy Fairweather Low, guitarist Neil Jones, saxophonist Allan Jones, keyboardist Derek ‘Blue’ Weaver and tenor saxophonist Mike Smith, with bassist Clive Taylor and drummer Dennis Byron also performing backing vocals.

They took their name from The Amen Corner, a weekly US soul music night at Cardiff’s Victoria Ballroom each Sunday. Originally Amen Corner performed blues and jazz-influenced tunes, but after signing with Deram Records they were steered towards a more commercial sound. Nevertheless their debut single was a cover of blues track Gin House Blues, which went in at number 12.

It was their third single in 1968 that really caught the public eye. Their version of the Outsiders’ Bend Me, Shape Me became the most popular UK release, getting all the way to number three. That year they also released debut album Round Amen Corner. At the end of 1968 they jumped ship to Immediate Records, and recorded (If Paradise Is) Half As Nice.

Their fifth single was originally written by influential Italian singer-songwriter Lucio Battisti for La Ragazza 77, aka Ambra Borelli. Il paradiso della vita translated as ‘The paradise of the life’. Jack Fishman translated it into English and renamed it to the song we know today. It was originally offered to the Tremeloes, who rejected it, and the Dave Clark Five showed an interest, but Amen Corner took it to number 1.

(If Paradise Is) Half As Nice peaks far too soon. The ‘la la la’ intro is lovely, and jumping into a memorable chorus early on often guarantees success, but it’s downhill after that first blast of brass. At least, I think it is. I can’t really remember, and that’s my point, really. Fairweather Low’s vocal is reedy and rather weak, and gets irritating quickly. He starts so high he’s soon straining and doesn’t know where to go. Also, I take issue with the chorus lyrics. ‘If paradise is half as nice as heaven that you take me to/Who needs paradise, I’d rather have you’. Well, yes, of course you would, it’s a no-brainer isn’t it? Perhaps the kids thought it would make a nice Valentines Day present?

A live album, The National Welsh Coast Live Explosion Company followed, and a single by Roy Wood from the Move, Hello Susie, which reached number four, but Amen Corner wouldn’t make it far into 1970. They recorded one last album, Farewell to the Real Magnificent Seven featuring their final (only their sixth) single, a cover of the Beatles’ Get Back, which failed to chart in 1969.

Saxophonists Jones and Smith left, and the rest of the band became Fair Weather, scoring a hit in 1970 with Natural Sinner. However, Weaver left to replace Rick Wakeman in the Strawbs in 1971, so they soon split.

Fairweather Low had a solo career, and his single Wide Eyed and Legless reached the top ten in 1975. From there, he has featured as a guitarist on live tours for Eric Clapton and Roger Waters.

Weaver went from the Strawbs to Mott the Hoople, and then the Bee Gees, joining Byron who was at that point their drummer. Jones became a photographer, whose work featured in weeklies the New Musical Express and Melody Maker, before becoming Cardiff City Council’s official photographer. He died of cancer in June 2018, aged 70.

Written by: Lucio Battisti/Jack Fishman (English lyrics)

Producer: Shel Talmy

Weeks at number 1: 2 (12-25 February)

Births:

Long jumper Stewart Faulkner – 19 February
Manic Street Preachers singer and guitarist James Dean Bradfield – 21 February

Deaths:

Comedian Kenneth Horne – 14 February

265. The Move – Blackberry Way (1969)

Before writing a bona-fide Christmas classic for his group Wizzard in 1973, Brummie songwriter Roy Wood specialised in quirky psychedelic pop with the Move, and helped to found the Electric Light Orchestra along the way.

In 1965, members of several groups in the Birmingham music scene plotted to form a new band, that they hoped would emulate the success of the Who. Making the move (hence the new group’s name) that December were singer Carl Wayne, bassist Chris ‘Ace’ Kefford and drummer Bev Bevan from Carl Wayne and the Vikings. Guitarist and songwriter Wood transferred from the Nightriders, later to become the Idle Race. In January 1966, the same month as their live debut, they were joined by guitarist Trevor Burton from Danny King & the Mayfair Set.

In these early days, the Move played mainly covers by bands including the Byrds, plus Motown and rock’n’roll. Although Wayne was the lead singer, each member got a chance to sing at the gigs.

Soon, Moody Blues manager Tony Secunda signed them up and helped them get a weekly residency at London’s Marquee Club. Secunda was integral in helping the Move stand out. He encouraged them to perform dressed as gangsters, and would get Wayne to take an axe to television sets on stage. When they signed their contract with producer Denny Cordell, he arranged for them to sign it on the back of topless model Liz Wilson. It was also Secunda that encouraged Wood to begin coming up with original material.

All Secunda’s unique, somewhat sexist methods paid off when the Move’s debut single, Night of Fear, written by Wood but with a steal from Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, stormed to number two in January 1967. Wood soon found his form, and the next three singles are all classic LSD-fried upbeat pop, showcasing Wood’s very British humour and laden with catchy hooks. I Can Hear the Grass Grow, later covered by the Fall, reached number five in March.

Flowers in the Rain reached number two in August, and is now their most famous tune due to it being the first pop song ever played on Radio 1 a month later. It helps that it’s also bloody good, particularly because of its distinctive woodwind and string arrangement courtesy of Cordell’s assistant Tony Visconti. It did however create a headache for Wood. Secunda’s decision to issue a postcard featuring a cartoon of Prime Minister Harold Wilson in bed with his secretary Marcia Williams resulted in the Move losing a libel case and Wood relinquishing all royalties to charities of Wilson’s choice.

Fire Brigade, released in January 1968, was their best yet, and was the first single to feature Wood on lead vocal. What a bizarre, life-affirming, under-rated classic. A patchy debut LP, Move, was released at the same time. Soon after, Kefford was sacked due to drug issues. Their rut continued when next single Wild Tiger Woman failed to chart. Fortunately, Blackberry Way wasn’t far behind.

Released in November that year, and perhaps as a result of the mood in the band, Blackberry Way was darker than their usual fare. Inspired by Penny Lane, I consider this a sequel to Flowers in the Rain, where the ecstatic trip has turned sour. The queasy backing, thanks in part to producer Jimmy Miller, conjures up the confusion and fear of a bad trip. There’s no fun to be had in the rain this time. The singer is broken-hearted on Blackberry Way, wondering where he goes from here. However, the chorus is more upbeat and defiant, and the singer reckons she is sure to ‘want me back another day’. Whilst it’s not the best single by the Move, Blackberry Way is a great example of late-60s psychedelic pop, and it signified that the hippy dream of the past few years was turning sour.

Playing keyboards on Blackberry Way was Richard Tandy, who was later part of the Electric Light Orchestra. He briefly joined the Move when Burton injured himself, but Burton was growing increasingly disenchanted with the pop that Wood was writing, and once Blackberry Way became number one, he knew they would continue in that vein, so he left in February 1969 after an on-stage scrap with Bevan.

Among the replacements considered for Burton was Jeff Lynne, who was still hopeful for further success with the Idle Race, and even Hank Marvin of the Shadows. Eventually Rick Price took up the bass on a non-contractual basis.

October 1969 saw the Move’s only US tour dates, supporting the Stooges. Soon after they began being booked for cabaret-style venues, which signalled they were losing their way. Wood began working up the concept of the Electric Light Orchestra. He was become increasingly keen on bringing classical and exotic instruments into pop songs, and ELO would give him the chance to experiment away from the Move. A month before the release of their second album Shazam in February 1970, an increasingly frustrated Wayne quit the Move. He had wanted Kefford and Burton back in the fold while Wood worked on ELO, but he, Bevan and Price refused to go along with the plan. In 2000, Wayne replaced Allan Clarke as lead singer of the Hollies, until his death from cancer in 2004.

Wood approached Lynne once more, only this time he floated the idea for the Electric Light Orchestra too, and Lynne was in as second guitarist and pianist. They began work on what was supposed to be the final Move album, Looking On, released in December 1970, which featured hit single Brontosaurus and the stomping Feel Too Good as its closer. One of the songs intended as a B-side, the cello-laden epic 10538 Overture, became the first ELO single instead.

Wood, Lynne and Bevan signed a new deal with Harvest Records, who insisted on one final album by the Move as well as two ELO albums, so the trio found themselves in the unusual position of recording two separate LPs by two different bands simultaneously. The Move’s final album, Message from the Country, was released in June 1971, and The Electric Light Orchestra came six months later. Soon after the Move’s ‘farewell single’ California Man, was released. By the time we hear from Wood in this blog again, his time in ELO was over, and Lynne was in charge.

There was a one-off reunion of the Move in 1981 when Wood, Bevan and Kefford took part in a charity fundraiser. The name has been used by Bevan in several different line-ups to this day, something that Wood resents.

Written by: Roy Wood

Producer: Jimmy Miller

Weeks at number 1: 1 (5-11 February)

264. Fleetwood Mac – Albatross (1969)

Fleetwood Mac are one of the biggest-selling acts of all time. Like Pink Floyd, they started out in the 1960s and overcame losing their chief songwriters to become hugely successful in the 70s with a very different sound, selling millions of records.

Also like Pink Floyd, they’ve only ever had one UK number 1 single. Peter Green’s classic balmy instrumental Albatross, which conjures up images of waves lapping against a sun-kissed beach, must have come as welcome relief during the winter of 1968/69.

Green had been Eric Clapton’s replacement as guitarist in John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers. Early in 1967, drummer Aynsley Dunbar announced he was leaving the group, and Green suggested to Mayall a former bandmate of his called Mick Fleetwood. The new version of the band consisted of Mayall on vocals, Green, Fleetwood and bassist John McVie. During their next recording session they named an instrumental after their new rhythm section, Fleetwood Mac.

Soon afterwards saw the debut of Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac, consisting of Green, Fleetwood, slide guitarist Jeremy Spencer and temporary bassist Bob Brunning, who was only there until McVie could be tempted away from the Bluesbreakers. It didn’t take long. No matter what has happened within the band since, Fleetwood and McVie have always remained.

Fleetwood Mac’s eponymous debut LP, a no-frills, bluesy affair, was released in February 1968. Not long after they entered the singles chart for the first time with Black Magic Woman, which became more famous via Santana’s version in 1970. Second album Mr Wonderful swiftly followed, featuring Christine Perfect on keyboards.

Around this time, Green had become impressed with a young guitarist called Danny Kirwan, and when his band Boilerhouse split, he invited him to join Fleetwood Mac. Green was unhappy with Spencer’s lack of willingness to help contribute to original material, but Kirwan was keen.

Among the material Green asked Kirwan for help with was Albatross. The song was said to have been inspired by Santo & Johnny’s Sleep Walk in 1959, though there is a more close resemblance rhythmically to Chuck Berry’s 1957 track Deep Feeling.

I love the lush sound of Albatross. This simple composition is for me one of the most atmospheric chart-toppers so far. From Fleetwood’s deep, muted drumming, played on timpani mallets to sound like rolling waves, to the languid guitar work of Green and Kirwan (Spencer is absent), there’s no wonder this gorgeous, tranquil tune has been used on TV and films so much over the years whenever a gorgeous scene of paradise is needing an appropriate piece of music. Apparently, the reason this single topped the charts is because it was used by the BBC on a nature documentary, and captured the public’s imagination.

The success of Albatross marked the first change in Fleetwood Mac’s sound, as they began to move away from pure blues during 1969. They signed with Immediate Records and Man of the World was a hit. Oh Well was a heavy rock classic, particuarly the first part, featuring a riff Led Zeppelin would be proud of.

Unfortunately, by the time of the dark psychedelia of The Green Manalishi (With the Two-Prong Crown) in 1970, Green’s mental health was rapidly dimishing. He had taken LSD at a hippy commune in Munich and had become erratic. Following an argument in which Green announced he wanted to give all the band’s money to charity, he left Fleetwood Mac in May. After an uncredited appearance on their 1973 album Penguin, he disappeared into obscurity. When he did resurface in the 90s, he was a shadow of his former self. I wonder what he made of his old band’s enormous success?

Fleetwood Mac struggled once their principle songwriter had gone. Perfect, now married to McVie, became a full-time member that August. In February 1971 Spencer went out to buy a magazine. He never returned. After several days searching they discovered he had joined a cult known as the Children of God. Kirwan was the next to leave, in 1972, having become a full-blown alcoholic. After his last solo album in 1979 he left the music industry for good. Their was to be no comeback for Green’s protégé. He spent much of the 80s and 90s homeless, and divorced, and had an estranged son. He died in June 2018, aged 68.

After numerous line-up changes, success finally beckoned when guitarist Lindsay Buckingham and his partner Stevie Nicks joined up in 1975. They released their second eponymous LP, which sold millions. Despite their new-found commercial success, the new line-up was mired in personal problems. The McVies and Buckingham and Nicks all split up, and the relationship turmoil resulted in one of their most famous albums. Rumours is one of the most famous pop-rock albums of the 70s. They ended the decade with the more experimental Tusk.

For much of the 80s, Fleetwood Mac were on sabbatical, with solo careers taking up most of the time. This most famous line-up regrouped in 1987 for another huge-selling album. Tango in the Night was their biggest since Rumours, and featured the hit singles Little Lies and Everywhere.

I have to confess to not really getting the massive fame of the soft-rock 70s and 80s incarnation of Fleetwood Mac. I like Rumours, and Little Lies transports me back to my childhood, but they’re a bit too safe for me. Albatross is in my opinion their best single. Even the Beatles loved it, and would pinch the sound on their similarly gorgeous Sun King from Abbey Road (1969). Its soothing tones would also drift in and out of the KLF’s influential ambient Chill Out album from 1990.

Buckingham and Nicks left after a fight in 1987, and the next Fleetwood Mac album, 1990’s Behind the Mask, recieved mixed reviews. The 70s/80s era line-up reformed to perform at Bill Clinton’s inauguration as US President in 1993 to perform his campaign’s theme song, Don’t Stop. In 1997 they reformed again, and a year later Fleetwood Mac were entered into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. As well as the current line-up, Green, Spencer and Kirwan were also inducted.

Fleetwood Mac’s last studio album to date was Say You Will in 2003. Buckingham left for (to date) the last time in 2018, and was replaced by Neil Finn from Crowded House and Mike Campbell from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. The current line-up still perform Albatross, and their sole number 1 always appears on any greatest hits compilations.

Written by: Peter Green

Producer: Mike Vernon

Weeks at number 1: 1 (29 January-4 February)

Deaths:

Actor Boris Karloff – 2 February

263. The Marmalade – Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da (1969)

After a topsy-turvy 1968, we reach the final year of the decade. And for the first time since the inception of the charts, there’s a new number 1 on New Year’s Day. Psych-pop and rock five-piece the Marmalade became the first Scottish band at the top of the charts with their version of Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da by the Beatles.

The band’s history began in 1961 in east Glasgow. Originally known as the Gaylords (stop sniggering, they took the name from the street gang Chicago Gaylords), the inaugural line-up featured guitarists Pat Fairley and Billy Johnston, lead guitarist Pat McGovern, drummer Tommy Frew and singer Wattie Rodgers.

Several line-up changes ensued, most importantly the arrival of William ‘Junior’ Campbell on guitar later that year. By 1963 they were known as Dean Ford and the Gaylords, with Thomas McAleese assuming the name of the ‘star’, aping Cliff Richard and the Shadows. They signed with Columbia Records in 1964, and their first single was a cover of Chubby Checker’s Twenty Miles. They were getting lots of attention in Scotland, and following a stint in Germany in 1965, they returned with ambitions to make it big in England.

After befriending the Tremeloes they signed with their manager Peter Walsh. Performing in the clubs of swinging London in 1966, they tightened up their act and Walsh suggested they became the Marmalade, and they signed with CBS and gained hitmaking Mike Smith as their producer. Debut single, It’s All Leading Up to Saturday Night, failed to chart.

Third single, I See the Rain, featuring a nice pop-psych sound, was lauded by Jimi Hendrix as the best single of 1967. By this point, the line-up had settled down to Ford on lead vocals, Patrick Fairley on six-string bass, Campbell on guitar and keyboards, Raymond Duffy on drums and Graham Knight on bass. The Marmalade were now making waves, supporting the Pink Floyd and performing at festivals during the Summer of Love. But they still weren’t charting, and CBS were beginning to get impatient.

The Marmalade rejected Everlasting Love, which became a number 1 for Love Affair in 1968. Eventually, to get CBS off their backs, they recorded Lovin’ Things, and reached number six in the charts. Also that year they released their debut album, There’s a Lot of It About.

In late 1968 they were offered Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da by publisher Dick James. Allegedly, the band had no idea it was by Paul McCartney when they agreed. It had yet to be released on the Beatles’ eponymous double album.

McCartney wrote this bright and breezy ska-influenced ditty during the Beatles time in Rishikesh, India, earlier that year. The song’s title and chorus came from Nigerian musician Jimmy Scott. Apparently his backing band were called Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, and in live shows he would call out ‘Ob la di’, to which the audience would respond ‘Ob la da’, and he would then conclude ‘Life goes on.’ The ‘Desmond’ of the song was inspired by rising ska star Desmond Dekker.

The fact McCartney would steal the phrase for his own means caused some consternation between he and Scott, and Scott threatened legal action until he came to an agreement with Macca to drop the case if the Beatle would pay his legal bills to get him out of Brixton Prison (he had failed to pay maintenance to his ex-wife).

John Lennon hated Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, so it was ironic he came up with the best part of the Beatles version when he banged away on the piano in the intro in pure frustration. McCartney had planned to release their version as a single, but Lennon was having none of it. George Harrison wasn’t a fan of either, and he wasn’t singing its praises when he namechecked it on Savoy Truffle.

The Marmalade’s version is inferior from the start, ditching that piano intro and any ska influence, preferring to turn it into a jolly, soft knees-up. They even replace ‘Bra’ with ‘Woah’. You could never call the Beatles recording edgy, yet it is by comparison to this. Not different enough to be interesting in any way, it’s reminiscent of the Overlanders’ number 1 version of Michelle. The most noteworthy bit is right at the end, where, instead of singing ‘If you want some fun, take Ob-La-Di-Bla-Da’, they replace ‘fun’ with ‘jam’. Marmalade, y’see.

Like that cover, Beatles fans flocked to the record anyway, and the Marmalade were at number 1 for the first week of January, before being overtaken by 1968’s Christmas number 1, Lily the Pink, by the Scaffold, once more. The Marmalade eventually won out, with a further fortnight as top of the pops.

In November of that year they signed a lucrative deal with Decca, which meant they could write and produce their own material with no time restraints in the studio. This resulted in their biggest hit worldwide, Reflections of My Life, an unusual early prog-rock-sounding ballad, which is superior to their number 1 single.

The beginning of the end of the group’s fame came when Campbell chose to leave in 1971. The hits carried on for a while longer, including Cousin Norman and Radancer, but line-up changes came thick and fast. In 1973 they signed with EMI, and dropped the ‘The’ from their name. Apart from a hit with Falling Apart at the Seams in 1976, none of their singles charted.

During the 1980s an incarnation of Marmalade toured the nostalgia circuit, with Knight as the sole member from their heyday. Dave Dee began occasionally performing with them from 1987 until his death in 2009. Knight departed the following year. Dean Ford passed away on New Year’s Eve last year due to complications from Parkinson’s. Despite no original members, Marmalade continue to jam. Sorry.

Also in that first week of 1969, Australian media mogul and all-round nasty piece of work Rupert Murdoch purchased best-selling Sunday newspaper The News of the World on 2 January. Three days later, riots in Derry left over a hundred people injured.

On 18 January, former drummer with the Beatles, Pete Best, won his defamation lawsuit against the band. Six days later there was unrest when violent protests by students resulted in the closure of the London School of Econoics for three weeks. This resulted in the students occupying the University of London Union three days later.

Written by: John Lennon & Paul McCartney

Producer: Mike Smith

Weeks at number 1: 3 (1-7, 15-28 January)

Births:

Lawyer Mary Macleod – 4 January

Deaths:

Conjoined twin actresses Violet and Daisy Hilton – 4 January

262. The Scaffold – Lily the Pink (1968)

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Just prior to Christmas 1968, a case with tragic similarities to the murder of James Bulger in 1993 came to a close with the sentencing of 11-year-old girl Mary Bell from Newcastle upon Tyne on 17 December. In May and July that year she had murdered two young boys, one with her friend Norma Bell, who was acquitted. Bell recieved a life sentence for manslaughter. She was initially sent to the same secure unit as Jon Venables, one of Bulger’s killers. Bell was released in 1980 into anonymity.

It’s a sad irony that the number 1 of the time, and eventual Christmas number 1, was a children’s song. Lily the Pink, by Scouse comedy, poetry and music act the Scaffold, was the first novelty song to become Christmas number 1, but as detailed in Every Christmas Number 1, it was certainly not the last instance of this very British phenomenon.

The Scaffold began with the friendship of entertainer John Gorman, and musical performer Mike McCartney (younger brother of Paul). Together with poets Roger McCough and Adrian Henri they formed the revue known as the Liverpool One Fat Lady All Electric Show back in 1962.

By 1964 Henri had left and they had become the Scaffold. As they rose in popularity, McCartney changed his stage name to Mike McGear, to avoid accusations of using his brother’s name to become famous during Beatlemania. However, considering the rise in popularity of anything from Liverpool, it’s fair to say the link won’t have harmed the trio.

In 1966 they signed to Parlophone (label of the Beatles) and released their debut single 2 Days Monday, but it was their third 7″, Thank U Very Much, that first troubled the top ten. Its popularity endured into the 1980s thanks to a long-running adveritsing campaign by Cadbury’s Roses, usually at Christmas.

McGough and McGear released an eponymous album without Gorman, featuring cameos from Jimi Hendrix, Mitch Mitchell, Paul McCartney and Graham Nash, in May 1968. The Scaffold’s eponymous debut LP was released only two months later and was a live recording of mostly McGough’s poetry and McGear and Gorman’s sketches. And then came Lily the Pink.

The 1968 Christmas number 1’s origins lay in a drinking song called The Ballad of Lydia Pinkham. Pinkham was a real person, and in the 19th century she invented and marketed a herbal-alcoholic women’s tonic for menstrual and menopausal issues. She was ridiculed at the time, but the drink still exists in an altered form to this day. Versions of the ballad were doing the rounds as far back as World War 1, with lyrics poking fun at Pinkham’s drink and its alleged uses.

The Scaffold’s version had completely rewritten lyrics by McGough, Gorman and McGear, adding a cast of unusual characters to make it more child-friendly, and also in-keeping with psychedelia, with the tune sounding reminscent of the Victorian music hall. The characters they described were largely in-jokes – ‘Mr Frears has sticky out ears’ refers to Stephen Frears, who had once worked with the trio and is now one of the most highly regarded film directors in the UK. ‘Jennifer Eccles had terrible freckles’ came from the song Jennifer Eccles by the Hollies.

Speaking of which, Graham Nash provided backing vocals, along with Elton John (still Reg Dwight at the time) and Tim Rice, and that’s Jack Bruce from Cream on bass.

I remember Lily the Pink from childhood, and I enjoyed it back then. It’s bloody irritating now, though, and the in-jokes, probably only funny to the Scaffold and a few others at the time, are not funny at all now. The chorus will, sadly, stay with you forever. And ever. And then just when you think Lily has died and gone to heaven, she comes back to haunt you forevermore. The bit where the chorus comes back after she’s died is good fun though, I’ll give them that. Incidentally, it was produced by Norrie Paramor, formerly responsible for Cliff Richard and Frank Ifield. This was his 27th, and (I think) final number 1.

In 1969 the Scaffold recorded their memorable theme tune to Carla Lane’s long-running BBC sitcom The Liver Birds. The following year they were given their own children’s series, Score with the Scaffold. With the advent of decimalisation, the trio were responsible for providing tunes for a series of five-minute programmes to explain how the system would work. That same year, they teamed up with collaborator Andy Roberts (I’ve had a drink with Roberts, and he’s a bloody nice bloke with some great stories, he’s also in one of my favourite sketches of all time, here.) Vivian Stanshall and Neil Innes of the defunct Bonzo Dog Band and various waifs and strays to form Grimms.

As Grimms toured up and down the country the Scaffold continued. They had their first hit since Lily the Pink with Liverpool Lou, recorded with Wings, in 1974. Although there may have been tension after McGear left Grimms due to a bust-up with Brian Patten, the Scaffold parted amicably in 1977, although there have been brief reunions here and there since.

Following a few more singles in the early 80s, McGear retired from music, reverted to his family name and became a photographer and author. Gorman was a regular on Tiswas and the adult version OTT until the early 80s, when he moved into theatre. McGough has remained in the public eye, and is considered a national treasure thanks to his children’s poetry.

After three weeks at number 1, Lily the Pink was overtaken by the Marmalade’s cover of the Beatles’ Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, but only a week later it returned to the top of the hit parade again for a further week.

On its last day, 14 January, Sir Matt Busby, legendary manager of Manchester United FC for 24 years, through good times and tragic times, announced his retirement.

1968 had been a particularly unusual and random year for number 1s. The decade was nearly over, and by the time we get to the end of 1969, the Beatles and Rolling Stones will have had their last number 1s.

Written by: John Gorman, Mike McGear & Roger McGough

Producer: Norrie Paramor

Weeks at number 1: 4 (11-31 December 1968, 8-14 January 1969)

Births:

Race car driver Phil Andrews – 20 December
Scottish field hockey player Pauline Robertson – 28 December
Author David Mitchell – 12 January
Scottish snooker player Stephen Hendry – 13 January 

Deaths:

Welsh poet David James Jones – 14 December
Athlete Albert Hill – 8 January
Writer Richmal Crompton – 11 January 

261. Hugo Montenegro – The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1968)

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On 18 November, a warehouse fire on James Watt Street in Glasgow kills 22 office workers in the offices of upholstery factory B Stern Ltd. Only four people in the building managed to escape.

26 November saw the Race Relations Act passed, which made it illegal to refuse housing, employment or public services to people in Britain due to their ethnic background. And four days later the Trade Descriptions Act came into force, bringing an end (officially anyway) to shops and traders describing goods in a misleading way.

1968, particularly the first half, had seen some unusual number 1s. As the year drew to a close, things got weird again. Enjoying a full month at the pole position of the singles chart was American orchestra leader and soundtrack composer Hugo Montenegro, with his remake of the theme to Sergio Leone’s 1966 Spaghetti Western The Good, The Bad and the Ugly.

This film was the final part of Leone’s Dollars Trilogy, following A Fistful of Dollars and A Few Dollars More, and starred Clint Eastwood as the Man with No Name once more. Despite initial scepticism from the critics, The Good, The Bad and the Ugly is now considered one of the greatest examples of the genre of all time. I have to confess I haven’t seen any of the trilogy. Westerns aren’t really my bag. But of course, I know the theme to this movie.

As with the other two parts of the trilogy, the score came from Italian composer Ennio Morricone. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (main title) was conducted by Bruno Nicolai. Simply put, it’s one of the most iconic pieces of film music ever, and features at the start of the movie. Largely in part to the theme, Morricone’s soundtrack album was a bestseller. But how did a remake become a number 1 single, two years after the film’s release, and who was Hugo Montenegro?

Montenegro had been born in New York City in September 1925. He served in the US Navy for two years, but was mostly arranging the Newport Naval Base band in Newport, Rhode Island. When World War 2 ended he studied composition at Manhattan College.

By the mid-50s he was directing, conducting and arranging orchestras for record labels, and he directed the Glen-Spice Orchestra on the first release by future pop star hearthrob Dion in 1957.

In the early 60s he found work with RCA Victor producing albums of cover versions of themes from films and TV series, including spy themes and westerns, which is what led to his version of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. It might sound quaint now, but these kind of albums were popular for decades. I can remember several in our family well into the 80s, featuring the themes of Superman, Star Wars, all the blockbusters of the time.

Montenegro’s version of Morricone’s classic was very similar to the classic original. It was recorded live in one day and featured, among others, Art Smith on ocarina, Art Morgan on harmonica, Elliot Fisher on electric violin, Manny Klein on piccolo trumpet and Muzzy Marcellino provided the whistling.

Despite the popularity of the soundtrack remake back then, it’s still an odd choice for a number 1 single. Having said that, you can’t deny the brilliance of the original, all that ominous forboding, the danger, the intrigue, wrapped up in a brilliant melody and sounding so unusual.

I realise I stated in my previous blog for With a Little Help from My Friends that if you’re going to make a cover, you need to make it different. And yet I enjoyed this facsimile. There’s very little difference, it’s just been made slightly more pop friendly, with light acoustic guitar and the danger slightly turned down. But it doesn’t sound tacky like many of these remakes used to do (ever heard anything from those Top of the Pops albums of the 70s?).

Montegro was understandably taken aback at the success of this single in the US and the UK. By making it to number 1 here it became the first instrumental to do so since Foot Tapper by the Shadows in 1963. It’s not strictly speaking an instrumental though – in this version, the random shouts you hear are actually members of the band shouting ‘HU-GO-MONT-EN-EGRO!’.

The composer continued to record remakes, and also composed original scores for films, including the Elvis Presley western Charro! in 1969. He’s also achieved a cult audience in recent years due to his albums that featured the Moog synthesiser, with the kitsch retro-space-age sounds proving influential on a new generation of musicians. On TV, he was famous for his TV themes for US sitcoms I Dream of Jeannie and The Partridge Family.

In the late 70s he was forced to put his career on hold due to his battle with severe emphysema. He died of the disease in February 1981.

Written by: Ennio Morricone

Producer: Hugh Montenegro

Weeks at number 1: 4 (13 November-10 December)

Births:

Footballer Barry Hunter – 18 November
Journalist Andrew Gilligan – 22 November

Deaths:

Writer Mervyn Peake – 17 November
Children’s writer – Enid Blyton – 28 November