448. Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) (1979)

The Intro

One of the biggest bands of the 70s, prog rock legends Pink Floyd hadn’t released a single since 1968. Their dystopian disco classic Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) gave them their sole number 1 and was the final chart-topper of the decade, striking a sombre tone for the advent of the Thatcher era. The optimism of the decade’s first number 1 by Edison Lighthouse seemed a hundred years ago.

Before

Before the landmark albums, and before the psychedelia, there was Roger Waters and Nick Mason. The two met in 1963 while studying architecture at London Polytechnic. Sharing a mutual love of the upcoming beat music, they joined a band with some friends, and were joined by Richard Wright. Waters played lead guitar, Mason was behind the drumkit, and without a keyboard, Wright played rhythm guitar. Sigma 6 performed at private functions nearby, covering material by groups including The Searchers.

Sixma 6 went through several names, including The Meggadeaths, The Abdabs and Leonard’s Lodgers – Waters and Mason shared a flat owned by Mike Leonard. Guitarist Bob Klose moved into the flat when Mason left, and also joined the group, now called The Tea Set, in 1964, which prompted Waters to switch to bass. Wright began to use a Farfisa organ owned by Leonard. Later that year another lodger joined them and the line-up – Waters’ childhood friend Roger ‘Syd’ Barrett.

In December 1964 The Tea Set made their debut in a studio, thanks to a friend of Wright’s. The future keyboardist wasn’t there however, having taken a break in his studies. At this point Royal Air Force technician Chris Dennis was the frontman, but when the RAF posted him to Bahrain in early 1965, the good-looking, charismatic Barrett took over as frontman.

The Tea Set became the house band at London’s Countdown Club. Playing three sets, each 90-minutes long, they were struggling to avoid repetition in their material, but realised they could fill time with lengthy solos. Klose left The Tea Set in mid-65, so Barrett also became their guitarist.

Before one gig, their new frontman found out that there was another band with the same name set to perform at one of their gigs. He came up with The Pink Floyd Sound instead, inspired by two blues artists in his record collection – Pink Anderson and Floyd Council.

In 1966, as musicians began exploring the outer limits of pop, The Pink Floyd Sound were mostly performing old R’n’B songs. That December they were noticed by their future managers Peter Jenner and Andrew King, and Jenner suggested they became The Pink Floyd. This coincided with them being booked at venues popular with the underground music scene, including The Marquee Club.

At the same time they were developing basic but very effective light shows via projections of coloured slides. Jenner and King’s connections got them coverage in the Financial Times and they performed at the launch of new underground magazine International Times. By that December the covers were slowly dropping from their sets and Barrett originals were becoming more frequent. They became regulars at the ultra-hip UFO Club, where the far-out lights, improvised sets and Barrett’s charisma earned them an ever-growing fanbase among freaks and hippies.

As 1967 began The Pink Floyd were signed to EMI Records and released their debut single. Arnold Layne, a psych-pop classic about a thieving cross-dresser, was banned by many radio stations but nonetheless made it to 20 in the charts. They followed it up with an even better single, just in time for the Summer of Love. See Emily Play was a smash hit, peaking at six and earning them appearances on Top of the Pops. It was their last charting single until 1979.

However, Pink Floyd, as they were now known, were in trouble. Barrett, despite his good looks, was an unlikely pop star and too fragile to cope with the pressures of fame. He was already a regular user of LSD by the time they recorded their classic debut album The Piper at the Gates of Dawn in 1967. It features some of the best psychedelic rock ever, including Interstellar Overdrive, plus lysergic-dipped whimsy like Bike, whose ending was perhaps a sadly fair approximation of Barrett’s mind at the time. He became increasingly distanced from the others, and while standing at the front of the stage in silence with a guitar slung over his neck might have seemed nicely trippy for their audiences, it didn’t bode well for the future as far as the others were concerned.

While touring with The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Barrett’s behaviour came stranger and stranger. Stories circulated of performances where the singer crushed Mandrax tranquillisers and Brylcreem into his hair, which under the heat of the stage lights, gave the impression to drugged-up audiences that he was melting on stage. His behaviour became so unreliable the others drafted in Dave Gilmour, who had studied alongside Barrett in the early-60s, as an extra guitarist. Apples and Oranges, the final single written by Barrett, failed to chart. Under pressure to come up with the goods, he told the band he’d written their next single, called Have You Got It Yet?. Every time they rehearsed it, he played a different tune, making it impossible to work on.

In January 1968, Pink Floyd were en route to a performance in Southampton when they decided it would be best if they didn’t pick up Barrett. Jenner and King, perhaps understandably, thought Pink Floyd were finished without their frontman, so they went with Barrett. The burden of leadership fell to Waters and while they continued to experiment live, their recorded output began to consist of failed attempts to sound like Barrett, such as Wright’s It Would Be So Nice. A Saucerful of Secrets, released in June, closed with, for me, one of the most blackly comic songs ever. Jugband Blues was Barrett’s farewell, with him singing ‘I’m most obliged to you for making it clear that I’m not here’ and ending with a sad strum following a final trip to the cosmos, and the closing line ‘And what exactly is a joke?’ You could argue Barrett never left the group in a way, as his descent into madness would provide the band with inspiration for years to come.

Point Me at the Sky, sung by Gilmour and Waters, was their last UK single until Another Brick in the Wall (Part II). From then on Pink Floyd’s albums saw them searching for a new direction through soundtrack LPs More (1969) and Obscured by Clouds (1972) and albums of experimentation, that fitted in with the growing trend for progressive rock. Ummagumma, released in 1969, was a double album featuring a side by each band member, plus a live concert recording. Atom Heart Mother (1970) was better, featuring an interesting 20-minute-plus title track and some pastoral rock. They built upon this with Meddle (1971), which included the driving space rock of One of These Days and Echoes, another long track that pointed the way towards the band’s future.

Then came The Dark Side of the Moon. Released in 1973, this lush, wonderful album about universal themes including time, greed, conflict and madness (the latter inspired by Barrett) was the peak of Waters and Gilmour’s partnership. The latter’s languid, melodic guitar lines and soft vocals were the perfect counterpoint to Waters anger and satire. It remains one of the bestselling albums of all time, and deservedly so.

Following a lengthy tour, Pink Floyd reconvened and were under pressure to follow up with something just as successful. Struggling for inspiration, Waters began writing explicitly about the loss of Barrett as well as the perils of the music industry, for the album that became Wish You Were Here (1975).

Incredibly, while recording the two-part song Shine On You Crazy Diamond, a paunchy man with no eyebrows appeared in the studio, brushing his teeth. Initially unrecognisable, it became apparently the tragic figure was Barrett. He had released two solo albums after Pink Floyd – The Madcap Laughs (1970) and Barrett (1970), co-produced in different sessions by Gilmour, Waters and Wright. They’re a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a schizophrenic, at times painful to listen to.

Waters couldn’t believe Barrett was there, listening to a song explicitly about Pink Floyd’s former leader. He asked Barrett what he thought of it and he replied ‘It sounds a bit old’. Waters was distraught afterwards. Other than an accidental meeting with him in Harrods a few years later, in which Barrett ran away, it was the last time any of Pink Floyd saw him.

Pink Floyd’s bassist became ever more dominant within the group and came up with the concept of the next album. Animals, released in 1977. was loosely based on George Orwell’s Animal Farm, and in the year of the Silver Jubilee and punk, its cynical comments on the class system proved timely. But Wright in particular found himself increasingly sidelined.

The subsequent ‘In the Flesh’ tour saw the prog-rock behemoths touring stadiums for the first time, but friction grew and Wright flew back home at one point threatening to quit, and most famously, a group of noisy fans at the Montreal Olympic Stadium prompted Waters to spit at one of them. He began to wish there was a wall between the band and the audience.

In 1978 the band, struggling financially through ill-advised investments, needed new material, despite Gilmour feeling they had done all they could achieve. Waters presented them with two ideas. The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking, which became his first solo album in 1984, and a 90-minute collection of demos entitled Bricks in the Wall. Available online, the demos are the bare bones of what became an ambitious double album soundtracking the story of rock star Pink.

Producer Bob Ezrin, who had been behind School’s Out in 1972, wrote a script for the album, telling of Pink’s childhood trauma over losing his father in the Second World War (which had happened to Waters), his alienation through the education system, his mental problems during stardom (Barrett, once more) and subsequent breakdown. All his issues represented bricks in a wall he built up around his audience and his loved ones until he becomes a maniacal fascist. At the end, Pink recovers and tears down the wall and the story comes full circle, ending as it began.

Pink Floyd’s rock opera The Wall featured many repeated musical motifs, just like a film soundtrack. The double LP’s backbone was Another Brick in the Wall, which traced Pink’s downfall at three points in his life. Part I occurs after his father dies, Part II spotlights trauma suffered at boarding school, and Part III comes as Pink completes his wall, deciding everyone he knows has contributed to his suffering.

Recording began in December 1978. Previous tensions within the band continued and Wright contributed so little to the sessions, Waters, Gilmour and Mason issued an ultimatum. Wright was to leave the group once recording was over. He did however perform on this number 1, playing Hammond organ and Prophet-5 synthesiser.

While recording the album, Ezrin suggested to the band that they go out to a club and listen to some disco. The idea appalled Gilmour, and even more so when he did what Ezrin asked. He thought it was awful. However, Gilmour developed the catchy Bee Gees-style guitar riff that underpinned Another Brick in the Wall (Part II). To his relief, it sounded good. With an added disco beat behind it, Ezrin thought they had a hit on their hands if more work was done. Pink Floyd stuck to their guns and insisted they didn’t release singles. Eventually they relented to a degree, with Waters telling him, ‘Go ahead and waste your time doing silly stuff’.

So he did. While Pink Floyd were absent, Ezrin extended the song and decided on another key ingredient. Perhaps with School’s Out in mind, he asked engineer Nick Griffiths to record a few children at the nearby Islington Green School singing Waters’ lyrics – a delicious irony considering the theme of the song. Griffiths, inspired by a Todd Rundgren song, decided to ask for a choir instead. The school agreed, but insisted it take no longer than 40 minutes.

Head of Music Alun Renshaw loved the idea. He’d been longing to make his pupils more interested in class by making music more relevant. Fearing headteacher Margaret Maden might feel different when she knew what the song was about, he kept such information from her. Renshaw and the children practiced for a week before going to Britannia Row studio. In return for the performance, the school received £1000 and the students were given tickets for a Pink Floyd concert, plus copies of the single and album.

When Ezrin played the results to Waters he recalled ‘there was a total softening of his face, and you just knew that he knew it was going to be an important record’. After more than a decade, Pink Floyd decided to release a single edit. Ezrin added a four-bar disco instrumental intro by looping a section of the backing track and Gilmour’s guitar solo was faded out. Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) was released on 23 November 1979, a week before the album.

Review

I’m a huge Pink Floyd fan and find their story fascinating – at least, until the point Waters left. Most Pink Floyd fans have a preferred era, but I genuinely don’t know whether it’s the Barrett or Waters era for me. I can totally see why Waters’ increasing takeover of the group has its critics, and that many find The Wall bloated and self-obsessed, but I love it. I could sing the entire album to you right now, with all the film-style snippets between songs. And Ezrin’s work on Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) is excellent – there’s no way The Wall would have sold as well as it did without the success of this downbeat disco anthem behind it, and that’s all down to him by the sounds of it. Hats off to Renshaw for the performance of the choir. They sound genuinely pissed off and rather scary, fitting the nightmarish mood perfectly.

I love that this was the least festive Christmas number 1 in years and marked the end of the 70s. How strange that these progressive rockers, famous for their dreamy soundscapes, should somehow capture the mood of so many disaffected youths. It sounds obvious these days, to stick a children’s choir on a song released at Christmas, it means you’re on to a winner. But not a choir singing about needing no education! Who says punk killed prog? You’ve got both here in just over three minutes.

There’s two ways to hear Another Brick in the Wall (Part II). You either need to start with the preceding track on the LP, The Happiest Days of Our Lives, in which Waters sets the scene, or, if you want that disco intro, plus Gilmour’s solo from the album, you want the version from the 1981 compilation A Collection of Great Dance Songs.

A memorable promo film was made for the single. It begins with footage of St Paul’s Cathedral as a backdrop of London, and everything looks grey and grim. Panning around, the camera eventually swoops down into a playground. The footage is then interspersed with clips of puppets and animation by Gerald Scarfe, the satirical cartoonist responsible for the album artwork and subsequent tour. The nightmarish Schoolmaster Scarfe created puts pupils into the top of the school, which minces them up, and the headmaster’s head becomes that of one of the marching hammers stomping around. After a wall encircles a child, we see a group of children miming the ‘We don’t need no education’ chant as disco lights flash, and then as Gilmour’s solo begins, foreboding footage of children leaving flats suggests trouble, and we fade out on the marching hammers. Merry Christmas!

After

Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) was a worldwide smash, going to number 1 in many countries including the US. Thatcher and The Inner London Education Authority were not fans of the cynical lyrics. Waters would have been thrilled at upsetting the former. He could claim his number 1 was his reflection on his boarding school experiences, but he was a staunch critic of the Conservative Prime Minister, and would rail against her explicitly on the next Pink Floyd album, which would be his last.

1980 began with Pink Floyd’s elaborate stage show for The Wall, with inter-band relations at an all-time low. Wright returned but only as a salaried musician rather than band member. Plans were made to combine tour footage with animation and make a film. Alan Parker became director and decided to take a different approach. Boomtown Rats frontman Bob Geldof, who originally dismissed the idea as ‘bollocks’, was hired to play Pink.

Following the Falklands War, Waters suggested Pink Floyd follow-up with a sequel-of-sorts, delving deeper into the loss of his father in the Second World War and linking it to Thatcher’s jingoistic response to the conflict with Argentina that made her into a hero to many. Gilmour wasn’t keen, and in effect, the appropriately named The Final Cut was more like Waters’ first solo album than a Pink Floyd LP. There’s some interesting parts but it pales into comparison with The Wall, which, despite Waters’ dominance, proved that Pink Floyd were at their best when he and Gilmour worked together, for example, on tracks like this and the epic Comfortably Numb.

A year later Waters released The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking and went public in saying he believed Pink Floyd were done. Whatever the others had in mind, he went to the High Court in an effort to dissolve the band and prevent the others from using its name. Nevertheless, Gilmour and Mason pressed ahead with the 13th Floyd album. A Momentary Lapse of Reason had Wright back on board and was a return to the sound of The Dark Side of the Moon with added 80s bombastic production. But it lacked soul and with contributions from the others at a minimum, it was in effect a solo Gilmour album but it sold very well and a world tour followed.

The rancour between Waters and the others got silly. He would contact promoters in the US and threaten to sue them if they advertised Pink Floyd gigs. He issued a writ over the use of the inflatable pig based on the idea he came up with for the cover of Animals – they responded by adding male genitals to their pig to differentiate it. What a load of bollocks.

In January 1993 when Gilmour, Wright and Mason began work on the next album, The Division Bell, the legal war was over. Released the following year, it was better than their previous, but still way past the band’s prime. Another world tour came afterwards, which would be their last.

Although the legal issues had long since been settled, Gilmour and Waters still had a strained relationship. So it came as a huge, exciting surprise to Pink Floyd fans – myself included – when it was announced that the duo would reunite with Wright and Mason to perform at Live 8 on 2 July 2005 at Hyde Park. Geldof had managed the impossible, although Gilmour had originally refused and it took a call from Waters to persuade him. Pink Floyd’s dramatic return was a spellbinding treat, especially when Waters spoke to the crowd before Wish You Were Here and mentioned Syd. He even managed to coax Gilmour over for a hug at the end of the show.

Waters was enthused and spoke of more possible shows for charity, but Gilmour said he was done, insisting it wasn’t due to any tension between them. On 1 July 2006 I saw Waters at Hyde Park performing The Dark Side of the Moon and other classics, with assistance from Mason. As always he paid tribute to Barrett, but seemed quite emotional when doing so. Unbeknownst to me and everyone in attendance, Barrett had pancreatic cancer, and died six days later, aged 60. In May 2007 Gilmour, Wright and Mason performed together at a Barrett tribute concert, while Waters featured alone.

Wright died of cancer on 15 September 2008, aged 65. Perhaps age was mellowing them, or the deaths of their former colleagues had got them thinking, but relations thawed again for a brief time, with Waters and Gilmour performing together for an audience of 200 at a charity event in July 2010. The following year Waters was performing The Wall at London’s 02 Arena when Gilmour joined in on Comfortably Numb. Mason also joined in for album closer Outside the Wall.

In 2014 Pink Floyd released the album The Endless River. Gilmour and Mason had revisited sessions for The Division Bell and put it together as a tribute to Wright. Gilmour said it would be the final Pink Floyd album. In 2018 Mason said Gilmour and Waters remained at loggerheads and so he formed Nick Mason’s Saucerful of Secrets, which would perform early Floyd material. In 2019 Waters joined them on stage.

The Outro

So it really did look like Pink Floyd were finally done. But then Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022. Gilmour, who has Ukrainian family, contacted Mason. They decided to team up with their bassist Guy Pratt (Waters was left out of the project) and musician Nitin Sawhney, and they created Pink Floyd’s first new song in 28 years. Hey, Hey, Rise Up! samples a performance by Andriy Khlyvnyuk, frontman of Ukrainian rock band BoomBox, who was recorded performing an a cappella version of a 1914 Ukranian protest song.

It’s highly likely that this will be a one-off but you never know. It could perhaps lead to live shows, at the least, Who’d have thought they would perform at Live 8, after all. But even with Mason as a go-between, it’s likely Waters won’t play with them again.

If they never do never reunite, at least they put their egos to one side for a good cause. If Pink Floyd’s career was made into a film – and it should be, because what a story – it would make a great, emotional ending, with Hey, Hey, Rise Up! an interesting epilogue.

And speaking of emotional endings, that’s the 70s done. What a decade of musical ups and downs, to say the least. To try and sum up this period would take a blog in itself. Sadly, just as things were getting interesting and exciting once more, it’s time for a break. Watch this space, though.

The Info

Written by

Roger Waters

Producers

David Gilmour, Bob Ezrin, Roger Waters & James Guthrie

Weeks at number 1

5 (15 December 1979-18 January 1980)

Trivia

Births

17 December 1979: Cricketer Charlotte Edwards
24 December: Field-hockey player Lucilla Wright
25 December: Racing driver Robert Huff
1 January 1980: Judas Priest guitarist Richie Faulkner
8 January: Actor Sam Riley
18 January: Singer Estelle

Deaths

6 January 1980: Racing car driver Raymond Mays
11 January: Novelist Barbara Pym
18 January: Photographer Sir Cecil Beaton

Meanwhile…

20 December 1979: The government publishes the Housing Bill, which will give council house tenants the right to buy their homes from 1981 onwards. This policy was a big vote winner among those who finally had a chance to own their ow homes.

2 January 1980: A new decade may have begun but strike action remained popular. Workers at British Steel Corporation began nationwide action for the first time since 1926. 

439. Tubeway Army – Are ‘Friends’ Electric? (1979)

The Intro

Derided by detractors as a David Bowie and Kraftwerk wannabe, Gary Numan in fact had two startlingly good number 1s in 1979 and helped point the direction of pop into the 80s.

Before

Gary Anthony James Webb was born 8 March 1958 in Hammersmith, London. A shy, only child, Webb’s parents adopted his father’s nephew John when he was seven. Later, John would serve in Numan’s backing band.

Webb attended schools in Stanwell and Ashford in Surrey, then Slough, Berkshire, followed by Brooklands Technical College in Weybridge, Surrey. As a teenager he joined the Air Training Corps and then tried his hand as a forklift truck driver, an air conditioning ventilator fitter and accounts clerk.

More important to him than these jobs was his hobby – music. When he was 15, Webb’s father had bought him a Gibson Les Paul guitar. He would play in various bands and would often scour the ads in Melody Maker for opportunities. Among the bands he auditioned for were a group of unknowns calling themselves The Jam.

As a teen, Webb had seen a child psychiatrist, who diagnosed him with Asperger’s and put him on medication. This added to his detached, robotic persona when he became famous, and explained his awkwardness in interviews.

As punk broke out in 1976, Webb wanted in on the action. Many groups of disaffected youths were sprouting up singing songs of alienation, which appealed to the awkward young Londoner. He joined Mean Street, then The Lasers as their guitarist, which is where he met bassist Paul Gardiner. Soon, the duo and drummer Bob Simmonds became Tubeway Army. Simmonds didn’t last long and was replaced by Webb’s uncle Jess Lidyard. The trio took on a pseudonym each – Webb became Valerian, Gardiner became Scarlett and Lidyard was Rael.

Tubeway Army became a fixture on the London punk scene, with Webb taking charge of songwriting and vocals. In March 1978 they recorded an album’s worth of demos (released in 1984 as The Plan), which earned them a recording contract with Beggars Banquet Records. On the day debut single That’s Too Bad was released, Webb quit his job in a warehouse.

He may have thought he’d done so too soon when neither this spiky single or its follow-up, the more rock-based Bombers (featuring Sean Burke on guitar and Barry Benn on drums), dented the charts. In July, between the release of these two singles, Tubeway Army quit live shows after violence flared at a shared gig with The Skids. Numan decided they should be a studio-only project.

With Lidyard back in the fold they recorded their eponymous debut. Punk influences remained but there was also a progression towards their future new wave sound. Importantly, the pseudonyms were dropped, and Webb was now Gary Numan, after being inspired by a Yellow Pages advert for a plumber called Arthur Neumann. Numan had come across a Minimoog synthesiser during recording sessions, and this, together with lyrics influenced by sci-fi writers JG Ballard and Philip K Dick, showed where Tubeway Army were headed next.

Numan had grown tired of punk and wanted to release this first album under his own name, but his label refused. No singles came from it and Numan quickly moved on to the next album. Recorded December 1978-February 1979 Replicas was musically influenced by Ultravox, Low-era Bowie and Kraftwerk. It was a loose concept album inspired by Dick’s classic Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. The Machmen were androids with cloned human skin, taking orders from the Grey Men and keeping humans in check. The first single from Replicas, Down in the Park, wasn’t a hit, but has proved to be a fan favourite and influenced many rock, Goth and techno acts to come.

Around this time, Numan had his first taste of the mainstream recording Don’t Be a Dummy for a freaky advert for Lee Cooper jeans. I’m glad I was only a few months old when this was shown on TV, as it would have scared the shit out of me.

Replicas was released 4 April 1979, and Are ‘Friends’ Electric? on 4 May. It was originally two separate songs – most likely the verses, written on an old out-of-tune piano, and the spoken word sections. As usual, Gardiner and Lidyard featured as a traditional rhythm section, but Numan was at the forefront with a selection of synths. There was a Minimoog, a Polymoog, an ARP Odyssey and an RMI Electrapiano. Together, they created an unusual, magnificent sound. It was at once the sound of a gigantic, lumbering machine, destroying anything in its path, and a clumsy, knackered old robot that was breaking down. Numan also added heavily flanged guitar parts. A demo version is available, sounding pretty much the same as the single, but with a more awkward vocal from Numan, in a lower key.

Review

By not being as musically gifted as Bowie, nor as refined as Kraftwerk, Numan created something influenced by them, yet totally new. It’s such an odd number 1, even for the time it was released. As the decade came to an end and Thatcherism began its iron grip, there was clearly an air of nihilism and fear for the future in the air, with Are ‘Friends’ Electric? and Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) topping the charts. Yes, new wave was more chart-friendly than punk, but it maintained its predecessor’s edge. There’s an argument here for this perhaps being the first New Romantic number 1.

Tubeway Army looked ahead to what may be in store for civilisation. The lyrics to Are ‘Friends’ Electric?, as with most of those on Replicas, came from short stories Numan had written about how he predicted London would be in 30 years time. The ‘friends’ in question here are robots that resemble humans (Numan?) that come to your door offering various services. Among them are prostitutes.

Numan’s lyrics here are often forgotten compared to the futuristic sound, but they are great. They’re dark, desperate and mysterious. I love the scene the first verse sets, and you can easily imagine it at the start of a novel:

‘It’s cold outside,
And the paint’s peeling off of my walls,
There’s a man outside
In a long coat, grey hat, smoking a cigarette’

His vocal performance mirrors that of the synths, awkward, primitive, and the Cockney tones make the resemblance to Bowie very clear. The spoken word sections are probably the weakest link in that sense, somewhat buried in the mix, which is frustrating as they suggest a more emotional Numan, describing a romance that ended badly. The first section ends with ‘I don’t think it meant anything to you’ and the second, ‘You see it meant everything to me’.

Or is he describing the encounter with the ‘friend’. It’s unusual for a number 1 to only mention the song’s title once, and it appears in the final chorus. Did the singer not realise ‘friends’ are not human? It only seems to have become apparent when it broke down. At what point did it malfunction? Hope it wasn’t in the middle of the act…

Despite being over five minutes long, Are ‘Friends’ Electric? doesn’t outstay its welcome. I could listen to a version twice the length. I want to know what happens next to Numan, and that piano riff is so good I’ll never tire of it. The fact it lasted at number 1 for a month suggests this wasn’t an oddity that ended up at the top by accident, and again, I’d put that down to the riff. Strip away all the futurism and it’s still just very catchy.

After

Also helping Are ‘Friends’ Electric? was Beggars Banquet’s decision to release a picture disc featuring Numan’s scary android visage peering out at the listener. Picture discs were still unusual in 1979, but became more popular from here on in. Tubeway Army’s performances on The Old Grey Whistle Test and Top of the Pops vindicated their frontman’s belief he was the star, with an emotionless Numan front and centre. This was the last release by Tubeway Army.

The Outro

22 years later, producer Richard X had begun releasing mash-ups under the name Girls on Top. One of the first was We Don’t Give a Damn About Our Friends, which combined the music from Are ‘Friends’ Electric? with US R’n’B singer Adina Howard’s 1995 hit Freak Like Me. Island Records loved it and wanted their girl trio Sugababes to record it. Richard X produced the new version in his flat in Tooting giving it more of a pop sheen but retaining the rawness. Released in 2002, the excellent Freak Like Me became Sugababes’ first number 1. Numan preferred it to Are ‘Friends’ Electric?.

Trivia

Writer & producer

Gary Numan

Weeks at number 1

4 (30 June-27 July)

Trivia

Births

25 July: Snooker player Allister Carter

Deaths

16 July: Countertenor Alfred Deller

Meanwhile…

5 July: The Queen attended the millennium celebrations of the Isle of Man’s Parliament, Tynwald.

12 July: Kiribai became independent of the UK.

17 July: Middle-distance runner Sebastian Coe broke his first world record, for running a mile in Oslo.

23 July: The Conservative government announced £4 billion worth of public spending cuts.

26 July: The new Education Act repealed the 1976 Act and allowed local education authorities to retain selective secondary schools.