After a very successful comeback in the late 60s, Elvis suffered a slow, ignoble decline throughout the 70s. It took his demise for him to achieve his 17th UK number 1, which pointed the way to what could have been if he had returned to form once more.
Before
A live recording of The Wonder of You was Presley’s final chart-topper in his lifetime in 1970. Soon after he was the subject of documentary film and accompanying album Elvis: That’s the Way It Is. It was during this time that he first began to wear the jumpsuits that would become an emblem of his fall from grace. He also began moving away from the roots sound of his Memphis sessions to less inspirational material. Not that it had any impact on his UK sales at that point – he continued to chart in the top 10 for a few years yet. Presley ended the year meeting President Nixon. Both paranoid men at this point, ‘The King’ slated The Beatles, something that still upset Paul McCartney decades later, who felt betrayed after the band had met him back in 1965 and got on well.
In 1972 another documentary film, Elvis on Tour, won the Golden Globe for Best Documentary Film. It was to be his final cinema release before he died. The single Burning Love became his best known song of the final stretch of his career and reached seven in the UK. The same year, he and Priscilla separated. To some who knew him, it was a blow from which he never recovered.
1973 began promisingly. The TV special Aloha from Hawaii was a global smash and the accompanying album his last US number 1 in his lifetime. But his health was deteriorating dramatically. He was hospitalised twice and spent three days in a coma the first time. That October his divorce was finalised. Despite all the drama, he was committing to an ever-increasing run of live shows.
In 1974 he arrived for a concert at the University of Maryland by falling out of his limousine to his knees. Heavily drugged, he spent the first half an hour of the performance holding his mic stand like it was a post and slurred so badly, members of his band were crying. Increasingly garish in his outfits and singing to an ever-ageing generation, he became rock’n’roll’s answer to Liberace. The supercool Presley of his comeback in 1968 was a distant memory. His pop material began slipping from the charts as his waist expanded. Despite this, he did have some hit singles – Promised Land in 1974 (number nine) and My Boy in 1975 (number five).
In 1976 came Presley’s penultimate LP. From Elvis Presley Boulevard, Memphis, Tennessee featured the single Hurt, an acclaimed cover which hinted at the turmoil behind the tragic, bloated man he had become. RCA had sent a recording studio to Graceland and he recorded enough material that year for one more album. Moody Blue‘s title track was a country hit in the US. But as 1977 came around, he was rapidly getting worse. Concerts were cut short, if they happened at all, and Presley slurred so badly he was intelligible at times.
Review
Despite the concern over the state of Presley, nobody knew Way Down would be the last single released in his lifetime. So that title proved rather ironic. It’s a strange beast, because the opening is really promising. It sounds as if The King was about to discover disco! The lyrics are pretty exciting too. Presley is about to get it on with someone and is likening the passion he’s feeling to a sin, so the ‘way down’ in question isn’t about him being buried but associating sex with the devil. Which is still an appropriate way for Elvis to go out considering his faith in God running parallel to his love of women. Girls in fact, if all the stories are true. Yes another musical icon, one of the biggest of all time, was allegedly a paedophile.
Way Down is ultimately a disappointing farewell thanks to how disjointed it is. The disco boogie of the verses is replaced by a boring chorus that’s rather hollow and symbolises the emptiness of the Vegas years. JD Sumner’s deep ‘Way on down’ sounds like a spoof of the backing vocals of The Jordanaires that appeared on many of Presley’s greatest work. It’s fascinating in the way it signifies where he may have headed next though. And for another clue, consider the fact Mungo Jerry’s Ray Dorset wrote disco classic It Feels Like I’m In Love with Elvis in mind. Kelly Marie took it to number 1 in 1980.
After
The same month Way Down was released, Presley was filmed at two concerts, to be made into a TV special, Elvis in Concert, broadcast after his death. He was in such bad shape it was only aired once and is unlikely to ever be officially released. On 26 June he performed for the last time, at Market Square Arena in Indianapolis. On 1 April Elvis: What Happened? was published. This book, written by three fired bodyguards, was the first time his drug addictions were made public. He had offered money to the publishers to halt its release. By this point, he was suffering glaucoma, high blood pressure, liver damage and an enlarged colon, each possibly caused and definitely made worse by his drug abuse.
On 16 August, Presley was scheduled to fly out of Memphis to start another tour. That afternoon his girlfriend Ginger Alden found him lying dead on his bathroom floor. She later said it appeared he had fallen off the toilet and not moved from the spot. The official cause of death given was cardiac arrest. Over the years opinions have differed to what happened but some believe it was a phenomenon known as the Valsava manoeuvre – he basically was so constipated he suffered a heart attack while straining. What a way to go.
The world went into mourning. There had never been a pop star like Presley but he spawned millions of imitators. Two days after the death of Elvis Presley, his funeral was held at Graceland. Outside the gates a car hit a group of fans, killing two. Way Down began to climb the charts and was soon number 1, remaining there for five weeks.
The Outro
It feels like I’ve spent years writing about Elvis. I started this blog in 2017 and when I reached the year of 1957 I was so relieved. Not exactly what you’d call a hardcore fan, it gave me a new sense of understanding of the seismic shift he caused in music and pop culture. He’s come back on and off ever since, for better or worse. And he’ll be back again posthumously eventually – though not for a while.
And yet his star is fading. His fans are dying and his significance lessens with every passing year. Stories of his fondness of teenage girls not exactly helping matters. And nearly 10 years of glitzy Vegas shows while still alive have remained the archetype of the fallen hero.
4 September:Gymnast Zita Cusack 8 September: Freestyle swimmer Gavin Meadows 12 September: Singer-songwriter James McCartney 15 September: Actor Tom Hardy
Deaths
4 September: lllustrator Lynton Lamb 6 September: Mathematician John Littlewood 14 September: Conductor Leopold Stokowski/Welsh rugby league player Jim Sullivan 16 September: T-Rex singer-songwriter Marc Bolan 25 September: Sculptor William McMillan
Meanwhile…
16 September: The UK had another star to mourn. Glam rock icon Marc Bolan of T-Rex died in a car crash in Barnes, London, two weeks before he turned 30. See here for more information.
19 September: FA Cup holders Manchester United were expelled from the European Cup Winners’ Cup after their fans rioted in France during a first round, first leg game with AS Saint-Etienne five days previous that ended as a 1-1 draw.
26 September: Entrepreneur Freddie Laker launched his budget airline Skytrain. The first single fare from Gatwick to New York City cost £59 compared to the normal price of £186. Also on this day, UEFA reinstated Manchester United to the European Cup Winners’ Cup on appeal. But they were ordered to play their return leg against AS Saint-Etienne at least 120 miles away from their stadium at Old Trafford.
3 October: Undertakers went on strike in London, leaving more than 800 corpses unburied.
Philly soul group The Stylistics notched up many hits in the 70s, thanks largely to the unique falsetto of Russell Thompkins Jr and slick production of Thom Bell. But by the time they had a number 1 in the UK their fortunes were sliding in the US and they had a new production team.
Before
The Stylistics came about when two Philadelphia vocal groups merged in 1968. The Monarchs – Thompkins, James Smith and Airrion Love, joined forces with James Dunn and Herb Murrell of the The Percussions. Two years later they recorded debut single You’re a Big Girl Now, written by their road manager Marty Bryant and Robert Douglas from their backing band Slim and the Boys. It became a regional hit for Sebring Records and got them signed with Avco Records. They re-recorded it and it reached seven in the US Billboard R&B chart in 1971.
Avco approached Bell to be their producer in the hope he could work his magic on them the way he had with The Delfonics. However he was unimpressed with their audition and only agreed to work with them because he liked Thompkins voice. Avco gave Bell creative control and so he built most songs around Thompkins. Within the year they were number three in the Billboard Hot 100 with You Are Everything. Two of their best-known hits followed in 1972 – Betcha by Golly, Wow and I’m Stone in Love with You, which were their first entries in the UK charts, at 13 and nine respectively.
The hits kept coming over the next few years, notably, in the UK, notably Rockin’ Roll Baby, reaching six in 1973, and most famous of all, the classic soul of You Make Me Feel Brand New. This duet with Love reached two here and in the US, where it became their biggest hit. But it was one of the last songs that Bell was involved with, and they split in 1974.
That same year they were teamed up with songwriters and producers Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore, better known as Hugo & Luigi. Together they had co-written or co-produced big hits in the 50s and 60s including Twistin’ the Night Away, Shout and, and George David Weiss, Can’t Help Falling in Love. Also thrown into the mix was songwriter, producer and arranger Van McCoy. He had co-written the classic I Get the Sweetest Feeling in 1968. He became a pop star in his own right shortly before arranging Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love) when his disco smash The Hustle, produced by Hugo & Luigi, lit up the charts earlier in the summer of 75.
Review
There’s no escaping the fact working with Hugo & Luigi was considered a step down for The Stylistics, despite their new producers having an impressive pedigree themselves. I have mixed feelings about Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love) because it’s grown on me and if it is less slick, it’s a great chorus and has bags of energy, and Van McCoy’s arrangement, while very similar to The Hustle, doesn’t overpower the song and complements it well. The lyric is hardly original, a poor guy tells a woman he may not be able to promise much but his devotion.
Not only that, I’m not actually a fan of Thompkins’ falsetto. I love falsettos, but his is overdone I find. He gets away with it here though. You do have to wonder what is the point of the other singers though, there’s a great video of the group performing this on a rooftop, and the choreography is hilariously messy. But it’s all good fun in a rather cheesy, dated 70s way.
After
Although they were lucky if they scraped the top 50 in America in this era, the UK hits continued for a while for The Stylistics. Na-Na is the Saddest Word reached five, Funky Weekend climbed to 10, and an inevitable cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love hit four in 1976. $7,000 and You, in 1977, was their last chart entry. Their next producer was Teddy Randazzo and the group felt they were looking out-of-date next to disco. They ended the 70s with a small role in the film adaptation of the musical Hair (1979).
The Outro
The Stylistics were reunited with Bell in 1980, but couldn’t recapture the magic. Dunn left that year and Smith a year later. Raymond Johnson was recruited but when he left in 1985 they became a trio. To date, their last album was Love Talk, released in 1991. They continued to tour until 2000 when Thompkins left. Line-up changes have continued ever since, and Thompkins formed The New Stylistics in 2004.
The Info
Written by
Hugo & Luigi & George David Weiss
Producers
Hugo & Luigi
Weeks at number 1
3 (16 August-5 September)
Births
22 August: Actress Sheree Murphy
Meanwhile…
16 August: Football hooliganism was on the rise in the 70s, and on the opening day of the English league season, hundreds of fans were arrested at games across the country.
19 August: The campaign for the release of George Davis, convicted of armed robbery, culminated in Headlingley cricket ground being vandalised, causing the scheduled test match between England and Australia to be abandoned.
21 August: The unemployment rate reaches the 1,250,000 mark.
27 August: 14-year-old Tracy Browne is badly injured in a hammer attack on a country lane at Silsden, near Keighley.
I’ve done it. 186 blogs in 17 months and I’ve now reviewed all the chart-toppers in that most incredible decade of transformation in pop culture. It’s been fascinating, exciting, dreary and terrifying at times, and sometimes, while listening to songs such as Cinderella Rockefeller, it’s been all those things at once.
The 60s, pre-Beatles, is an era I knew little about, so I suspected this could prove as enlightening as my reviews of the 50s, but I was surprised to learn so much once The Beatles invaded the charts too. Their impact in 1963 and 64 was even bigger than I’d ever imagined, and their move into a more ‘mature’ sound would effect the singles charts of their later years too, but detrimentally.
To commemorate reaching the end, it’s only right that I repeat what I did with Every 50s Number 1, and relisten to them all once more, before deciding on the best and worst of each year, and whittling them down even more to the best and worst of the whole decade.
Despite knowing and loving much of this music so much, I admit to being a bit nervous. How do I choose between some of the greatest bands and songs the world has ever seen? Only one way to find out…
1960
They say that it takes a few years for a decade to get started, and it’s certainly true in the case of the swinging 60s. The music from the dawn of the decade is mostly a hangover from the fag ends of the initial burst of rock’n’roll. There’s a strange short-lived fad at the start of the year for cockney pop by Adam Faith and Anthony Newley (a big influence on early David Bowie). Things don’t really get going until May when the Everly Brothers return to the top with The pioneering drum sound ofCathy’s Clown. This was followed by the first posthumous chart-topper – Eddie Cochrane’s Three Steps to Heaven. Legendary singer-songwriter Roy Orbison makes his number 1 debut with the classic melancholy of Only the Lonely (Know How I Feel). There’s also a great comeback from Elvis Presley with It’s Now or Never. Less impressive were Cliff Richard and The Shadows’ two number 1s together. Weirdest? That can only be Johnny Preston’s bizarre tail of the love between a cowboy and a native American, Running Bear.
This could and arguably should have been The Shadows’ surprisingly edgy and menacing Apache, which is a true pre-Beatles classic and hugely influential on pop, rock and even hip-hop. But just pipping it for me was this raunchy, dangerous slice of British rock’n’roll. The band brought theatrics into their live shows and inspired The Who, among others, plus it features number 1 session drumming legend Clem Cattini.
How quickly the mighty can fall. In Every 50s Number 1, the ‘King of Skiffle’ Lonnie Donegan’s incendiary performance of Cumberland Gap was my runner-up for number 1 of the decade. Three years after inspiring some of the future decade’s brightest talents, he was performing this music-hall rubbish in a live recording from Doncaster. Terrible, terrible jokes littered throughout. Shame.
1961
A bumper crop and a real mixed bag. The women finally get a look in, featuring a young Petula Clark, Shirley Bassey and Helen Shapiro, but I have to say none of these tracks impressed. Elvis had started his ‘will this do?’ era, butAre You Lonesome Tonight? still hits the spot and(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame deserves a mention. Wooden Heart does not. His sometime pianist Floyd Cramer’sOn the Reboundis still full of vim and vigour. The Everlys bow out with Temptation, a nice atmospheric number. There’s a lot of oddities about, and they’re mostly good, particularly the gothic melancholic pomp of Johnny Remember Me. Blue Moon is a lot of fun, as is the demented wailing of Frankie Vaughan on Tower of Strength.
Not for the last time I found myself torn between a song that pushes the boundaries of pop and a simple, much-loved standard. This time the former, Del Shannon’s still-popular Runaway fell behind the timeless beauty of the South African singer’s take on Moon River, number 1 that Christmas.
The veteran Welsh singer is loved for her powerful voice, but it not only leaves me cold most of the time, I find it painful, and this is her at her wailiest (it’s a word, now) over a very boring track. I was very tempted to throw my headphones across the garden when I got to the final note.
1962
The first sighting of what may have been had The Beatles not arrived. Frank Ifield was the year’s biggest star, with his penchant for amusing yodelling over two number 1s, and was still going strong until the rise of Merseybeat. Elvis’s bestsellers range from the dire to classics – even within a single release. Cliff Richard and The Shadows return with strong material, The Young Ones and Wonderful Land respectively. The country-soul of I Can’t Stop Loving You is far from Ray Charles’s best work, but I confess it’s grown on me a little. Nut Rocker is ace, and is fully deserving of its ubiquitous usage in TV and film.
Like 1961, this was tough. I very nearly picked the quirky space race euphoria of The Tornados’ Telstar. Joe Meek was innovating pop before The Beatles, and despite Telstar being famous, I can’t help but think it’s still a little underrated. However, once more, the timeless pop ballad wins out – am I getting soft in my old age? Perhaps, but how can I deny the brilliance of one of the finest love songs ever written? There are many versions, but none compare to Elvis’s. I’m far from his biggest fan at times but this is pure gold. That the flip side of this is the awful Rock-A-Hula Baby (“Twist” Special) makes it all the more remarkable.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a bit of Carry On humour, and it’s wrong to expect a song from 1962 to live up to the political correctness of the #metoo era, but Come Outside is woeful. Sarne’s flat vocal irritates, Richard is charmless, and it’s all a bit, well, rapey. The rhythm track isn’t bad, though.
1963
Never has a year in pop seen such a seismic shift. For the first third it’s very similar to the year before with appearances from Cliff (Summer Holiday is still a lovely blast of pop), The Shadows and Frank Ifield, and then Merseybeat happens, and things change forever. It’s nearly always The Beatles, acts performing Lennon-McCartney tunes (Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas) or inferior copycats (Brian Poole and The Tremeloes). Bar one good single from Elvis,(You’re the) Devil in Disguise, US artists don’t get a look in. None of these other groups can match The Beatles, although Gerry and the Pacemakers have some decent material with their hat trick of bestsellers. A lot of Merseybeat is too twee for me to really get into, but some of the greatest pop songs of all time are right around the corner now. Exciting times!
The Fab Four shook things up like no act before or since in 1963, and that’s largely due to this, the decade’s biggest-selling 7″. The chorus of She Loves You is lightning in a bottle, pure unbridled joy and ecstacy, and it sparked a thousand imitations. From Me to You is nice enough, andI Want to Hold Your Hand showed new maturity in their songwriting, but this is easily their finest early song. And the lyrics are smart too, moving away from the template of ‘I love you’ and introducing a third party. I’ve always loved She Loves You, but hearing it arrive in the context of this blog increases my respect for it even more.
Cliff Richards’ sometime backing band’s impressive run of number 1s with him and alone came to an end this year, with tracks ranging from the great (Apache) and the good (Wonderful Land) to this, which isn’t awful, it’s just incredibly boring and leaves no mark on me whatsoever. Adding an exclamation mark to the end of the title doesn’t make me any more enthusiastic, either.
1964
An incredible year of number 1s. I envy anyone who lived through this. In fact, listening to them all in one stint, I’d say there’s a very strong argument that this is the high watermark for number 1s. Merseybeat mutates and expands in strange and exciting ways, most notably the momentous folk-rock classicThe House of the Rising Sun by The Animals, meaning that the legendary Bob Dylan’s influence was now being felt on these shores. Then The Rolling Stones made their debut (It’s All Over Now), and became so popular, they got a blues cover to the top (Little Red Rooster)! Roy Orbison bows out by getting the girl at last with the brilliant Oh,Pretty Woman. Joe Meek had his third and final chart-topper too, producing The Honeycombs’ insanely underrated Have I the Right?. Women make their belated return, with Sandie Shaw and Cilla Black both topping the charts with two songs by the masterly Burt Bacharach and Hal David – ((There’s) Always Something There to Remind Me and Anyone Who Had a Heart), and The Supremes had their sole UK number 1. As for the Fab Four, well, there’s three classics from them, in particularA Hard Day’s Night. But they don’t win this time.
Facing incredibly strong competition, Muswell Hill’s finest were my choice, because despite all the other great tunes in 64, it was this primal expression of pure animal lust that pretty much kickstarted rock and heavy metal. Ray Davies may have become one of our wittiest, most quintessentially English songwriters, but The Kinks perhaps never bettered this scorching slab of raunch.
A staid, old-fashioned, boring ballad from Ireland’s original boy band. Wouldn’t have sounded out of place 10 years previous (it actually dates back to 1927. That’s right, it’s even worse than Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas’Little Children, because at least that had a tune.
1965
Tons of pop gold again, but stylistically more varied than the previous year. More strong material from The Kinks and the Stones, and one of the finest epic break-up songs of all time – namely The Righteous Brothers’ You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’. On a similar note, I’ve always loved The Moody Blues’ version of Go Now that preceded it. We’re starting to see the rise of the hippy movement – hair is getting longer, and the lush jangle of Mr Tambourine Man marks another sea change. Cynics may balk at Sonny & Cher’sI Got You Babe, but I think it holds up well, as does the debut of Tom Jones with his anthem It’s Not Unusual. Four songs from The Beatles, all of them – Ticket to Ride, Help! and Day Tripper/We Can Work It Out, among their finest work, in particular Ticket to Ride. The latter, and Day Tripper, are built around some of the finest riffs in existence. And yet, and yet… Ticket to Ride is just trumped by perhaps the greatest riff there has ever been.
It was as close a call as it’s possible to have, but for once in my life, I’m choosing the Stones over The Beatles. Keith Richards’ legendary riff, allegedly created in his sleep and intended for horns, never dates and combined with Mick Jagger’s frustrated world view make for a dream combination. After paying homage to the blues time and again, this saw the birth of Jagger and Richards as songwriters to rival Lennon and McCartney.
Oh Cliff. Behind the times as early as 1965. And what does he do, to counteract Beatlemania? He abandons The Shadows, perhaps a shrewd move to appear ahead of the curve? Oh, he’s gone and recorded an old-fashioned country song from 1963. Never the genre’s biggest fan, this sounds like a pale imitation of I Can’t Stop Loving You. Ken Dodd’s huge-selling Tearsmay have also sounded like a relic, but at least the chorus was catchy.
1966
The last of the peak years of the decade, before albums began to overtake singles in importance. In general, a superlative blend of pop and the rise of drugs and psychedelia in music. British pop now striding into a bold, experimental future, and combined with England winning the World Cup, there was an overwhelming sense of optimism and pride in the UK. The Beatles were approaching the peak of their abilities in the studio, and minds must have been blown by their dark ode to the lonely, Eleanor Rigby. As startling a song as it is, I’ve always found it easier to admire than to enjoy. I’d take previous single Paperback Writer over that, and wish their jangly guitar era had lasted a bit longer. 66 got off to a blistering start with the Spencer Davis Group’s still storming Keep on Running, and Nancy Sinatra helped shape modern female pop with the sassy cool ofThese Boots Are Made for Walkin’… yet Dusty Springfield’s only number 1, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me is uncharacteristically pleading. By and large, 1966 is another embarrassment of riches, particularly The Rolling Stones’ apocalyptic Paint It, Black, almost their best song ever.The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore, Sunny Afternoon, Reach Out, I’ll Be There… all classics. It would take a very special song to shine above all these.
And a very special song this is. That’s right, Brian Wilson’s ‘pocket symphony’ means that I haven’t picked any number 1s by The Beatles during their peak years, which is probably the biggest surprise I’ve had since starting this blog. What it does prove is that the Fab Four inspired their contemporaries to do better than them. Had they not released their landmark album Revolver, we may never have had the finest three-plus minutes of The Beach Boys’ career, which in turn spurred the Beatles on to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. But anyway… in a year of great tunes and studio innovation, The Beach Boys combined both beautifully, devoting as much time to Good Vibrations as lesser bands would to entire albums. The peak of Brian Wilson’s creativity. The only downside being the burn-out that followed recording their next LP.
Released two years after the US country star’s untimely death, this was a bizarre number 1 to have in 1966, particularly for five weeks. It’s unclear why it was considered single-worthy, as it’s more B-side material, and it’s completely out-of-step with prevailing trends. But the anti-war message may have resonated with Vietnam in mind, and it probably gave succour to old folk baffled by yellow submarines et al. Not awful, like some of the other dire material I’ve mentioned, just out of place.
1967
The tectonic plates of British music and culture shifted once more this year, only not as much as you might imagine in the singles chart. As some of the most famous acts concentrated on complex psychedelic LPs influenced by the rise in LSD, the 7″ chart was largely dominated by light entertainment acts – the most since 1962. Top of the pops was smoother-than-smooth balladeer Engelbert Humperdinck, who enjoyed 11 weeks at number 1 and famously, criminally, prevented Penny Lane/Strawberry Fields Forever with Release Me. Other than the pop brilliance of The Monkees’ I’m a Believer, nothing remotely hippy-like gets a look in until the Summer of Love finally gets underway that June with Procul Harum’s earnest and excellent lysergic standard A Whiter Shade of Pale. Only two other, wholly appropriate chart-toppers followed – The Beatles anthem All You Need Is Love and Scott McKenzie’s dreamy San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair), before Humperdinck brought everything down to earth again. We say hello to the Bee Gees for the first time with the lovely Massachusetts, and goodbye to Nancy and Frank Sinatra, with their ‘incest anthem’ Somethin’ Stupid. All in all, 1967 was a surprising letdown.
This isn’t even the best Beatles single of 1967, but thanks to Humperdinck, I can’t rate Strawberry Fields Forever. So I’m settling for this instead, which may seem controversial when lined up against A Whiter Shade of Pale, but personally I love Hello, Goodbye. I rated it the best Christmas number 1 of the 60s here, and I stand by it. It’s infectious, upbeat and catchy, and the finale is as joyous as the chorus to She Loves You if you’re in the right mood. The B-side, I Am the Walrus, is better, though.
The famously barefooted singer hated this song, which was our first ever Eurovision winner – and I don’t blame her, because it’s awful and I’m betting it did her career lasting damage. The lyrics are awful, the tune is demented and it makes me want to pull my teeth out and feed them to sparrows.
1968
Stylistically speaking, 1968 is all over the place when it comes to number 1s. The main trend among the bigger bands this year was to adopt a back-to-basics approach as a reaction to flower power. The Beatles led the way, as usual, but Lady Madonna doesn’t match up to The Rolling Stones’ rocking, witty comeback single Jumpin’ Jack Flash, and Do It Again is a bit of a letdown after Good Vibrations, even if the drumbeat proved pioneering. There’s still room for psychedelia in the charming theatrical demonic pomp of Fireby The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, but then there are some number 1s that are downright odd more than anything, such as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and particularly Cinderella Rockefeller, with its deranged yodelling and godawful rickety tune. I loved the Bee Gees’ I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You and Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World, an evergreen classic which gave Satchmo a chart-topper shortly before his death. Cliff finally remembered how to record a catchy tune and whatever you think of Eurovision runner-up Congratulations, you can’t deny its popularity.
In much the same way John Lennon’s Imagine is now considered uncool, it seems to be the done thing to slate McCartney’s lengthy classic, but I’m having none of it. It’s soulful and poignant, written for Julian Lennon when his parents were splitting, and its universal message of the power and importance of love speaks more to me than the simplistic sloganeering of All You Need Is Love. The Beatles may have been already splitting at this point, but there was still plenty of magic in the tank.
This could so easily have been the profoundly irritating Cinderella Rockefeller, but that at least had a memorable hook, albeit a very irritating one. No, this is as bland as they get, sang with no soul or meaning whatsoever. He’s supposed to be broken-hearted, but he sounds like he’s having a great time. I like Des, but I get why Morecambe and Wise ripped the piss so much now.
1969
The end of an era in more ways than one as we say farewell to The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Despite the fact Abbey Road is one of their finest albums, The Beatles’ singles before its release weren’t them at their best, leaving The Ballad of John and Yoko a rather odd way to bow out of the blog. Honky Tonk Women was more appropriate, showing the future for the Stones as the archetypal good-time rock band of the 70s and beyond that they became. For the first time, album sales outpaced singles, as the teens of the mid-60s grew up and moved on to LPs. This left a gap, to be filled by inferior bubblegum pop, resulting in Sugar Sugarby The Archies becoming the year’s biggest seller. Other than that, it’s another mixed bag, like 1968. Some of the highlights include the tranquil Albatross by the original incarnation of Fleetwood Mac and Something in the Air by Thunderclap Newman. Lots of great tracks from overseas acts too, particularly the horny Je t’aime… moi non plus by Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, plus the apocalyptic boogie of Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival and ska pioneer Desmond Dekker’s Israelites.
Originally recorded in 1967, Motown boss Berry Gordy Jr was uncharacteristically blind to the greatness of Gaye’s version of this track. Slowing things down, adding an incredibly cool bass line for the intro, and singing with the kind of feeling that was completely alien to the likes of Engelbert Humperdinck and Des O’Connor, this is soul music at its finest, and peak Motown. To hear just how stunning Gaye is here, check out this clip that’s currently doing the rounds online, which isolates the vocal. Spine-tingling.
Had I been deciding this before Harris was outed as a paedophile, I’d have said Zager & Evans deserved it, because I, like so many others, had a soft spot for Two Little Boys. Now obviously it just leaves a very sour taste, and it’s a downbeat way to end the decade.
The Best 60s Number 1 Ever is…
The Beatles – She Loves You
It was always going to be the Fab Four, wasn’t it? They’re the greatest group of all time, so it’s a no-brainer. However, I’d be lying if I said She Loves You has always been my favourite Beatles single. I’d probably say Strawberry Fields Forever or Something, but of course neither went to number 1. But it would be wrong to make my choices for best and worst chart-toppers of each decade simply my favourite. I also look at the impact of each song, ine innovation and the influence it had, as well as the catchiness of the chorus. She Loves You easily covers all three bases. It’s modern music’s ‘big bang’ moment, and as I’ve said before about this and other legendary number 1s, it’s listening to them in the context of this blog that really separates the wheat from the chaff, and Every UK Number 1has truly brought home what a monumental few minutes of pop music The Beatles conjured up here. What alchemy.
But also, what competition, what an often astounding selection of songs I was honoured to listen to and choose from. It could just as easily been You Really Got Me or (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction, but in the end She Loves You got there first and laid the groundwork that allowed all the other classics to be made in the first place.
The Worst 60s Number 1 Ever is…
The Bachelors – Diane
You could argue it’s unfair to single out Diane because it was number 1 in a year full of brilliance. I’d argue that’s exactly why I’ve given it this dubious honour. It spoiled my listening experience and stuck out like a sore thumb! Its dull tweeness would have earned it a slating if it had been released in 1954. 10 years later, it’s unforgivable really. And if they were the first Irish boyband, well, that’s nothing to be proud of, is it?
The Outro
The 60s were the decade in which pop came of age and became an integral part of the youth movement. From the dreariness of post-rock’n’roll, to Merseybeat, to the British Invasion, to psychedelia, to bubblegum pop and rock, music mutated rapidly, thanks in large to The Beatles, but also The Beach Boys, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and more. Reviewing each number 1 in turn was really fascinating, and has increased my knowledge of the decade greatly, and for me the most interesting parts were just how much Merseybeat completely upturned the charts, and how little impact psychedelia actually had in 1967, due to the rise in popularity of albums.
So obviously it’s the 70s next. The decade in which I was born, albeit very late in the decade (1979). Pop changed and changed again here too, many times, and it was an often dark and turbulent decade in the news, so I can’t wait to get stuck in once more.
Blogs on every 60s number 1 are available to view via the Archive section.
