203. The Walker Brothers – Make It Easy on Yourself (1965)

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Long before Scott Walker was ordering a percussionist to punch a side of pork, he was a 1960s pop idol with his pretend siblings. The Walker Brothers first found fame with this first of two number 1s, Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s Make It Easy On Yourself.

John Maus, born in New York in 1943, was a child television star. In the late 50s he was friends with Ritchie Valens, and following the La Bamba hitmaker’s tragic death, he was an honorary pallbearer at his funeral. Later, he befriended future Beach Boys David Marks and Dennis and Carl Wilson, and he helped teach them how to play the guitar. He formed a musical partnership with his sister, and they were known as the acoustic duo John and Judy. In 1961, they met Scott Engel.

Engel, born in Hamilton, Ohio in 1943, had also been a child actor and singer, and in the late 50s he was marketed as a teen idol, with Eddie Fisher (one of the first number 1 stars in the UK) pushing him for stardom. Engel had intellectual tastes from an early age, and loved progressive jazz, Beat poetry and European cinema. When he met John Maus he was in the instrumental group the Routers.

Engel and Maus briefly backed John’s sister and they became Judy and the Gents. Somewhere around this time, the 17-year-old Maus got hold of an ID card for John Walker, enabling him to perform in clubs while underage. The name stuck, and he was sick of people getting his surname wrong anyway. After breaking away from Judy Maus, Engel and Walker were briefly part of the Surfaris, the group that had recorded Wipeout in 1963. At least, they were part of the touring group, none of whom recorded their singles.

In 1964, they decided to work together as the Walker Brothers Trio, with Al ‘Tiny’ Schneider on drums. Walker was lead vocalist and guitarist and Engel was bassist and provided harmony vocals. At some point Schneider left and they continued as a duo before meeting new drummer Gary Leeds. All three were photogenic and soon ended up on TV shows including Shindig. They signed with Mercury Records and recorded their debut single, Pretty Girls Everywhere. It was Maus’ idea they should all take the surname Walker, and I still find it odd that Engel continues to go by the name Scott Walker after all these years. I guess he must still have a soft spot for his time as a pop star.

Gary Walker had recently toured the UK with PJ Proby, and convinced John and Scott that the Walker Brothers should try their luck as pop stars on these shores. It was his father that financed their first trip early in 1965. Their first single barely scraped into the charts, but they had better luck with Love Her. This follow-up featured Scott on lead vocal, and upon its success, Scott began moving into the lead spot in the trio.

They found an ideal producer in Johnny Franz. He was one of the top UK producers of the 50s and 60s, and by this point had produced six UK number 1s, from Winifred Atwell’s Let’s Have Another Party in 1954 to Juliet by the Four Pennies in 1964. Franz was very effective at lavishly orchestrated 60s pop, which made him a natural choice to produce a Bacharach and David song. Make It Easy on Yourself was a decent slab of break-up melodrama from the genius duo, and became the songwriters’ sixth UK number 1. It had first been a hit in 1962 for Jerry Butler, based on a demo from Dionne Warwick.

Make It Easy on Yourself comes out on the losing side when compared to that other big heartbreak song of 1965, You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’. Nobody does the Wall of Sound better than the creator, Phil Spector. Having said that, the Walker Brothers and Franz put in a decent try. The track opens with a wordless version of the chorus, and that first line, ‘Breaking up is so very hard to do’, set to Scott’s smooth baritone, sets things off nicely. It can’t keep the momentum going though, and the verses don’t have the tension and drama of the Righteous Brothers’ number 1. How many songs do, though? Oh, this song also features legendary session drummer Clem Cattini, who took part in a frankly ridiculously long list of UK number 1s over the years, the most recent of which had been the Bachelors’ snore-fest Diane in 1964.

Scott’s vocal is perhaps a little too polished and mannered to carry off the emotion… unless this is a deliberate ploy to make the protagonist sound in denial. You can easily imagine several other singers’ releasing this, such as Cilla Black, which means the Walker Brothers, in particular Scott, were still too green to put their own stamp on their releases. Their next number 1 was a big improvement.

Written by: Burt Bacharach & Hal David

Producer: Johnny Franz

Weeks at number 1: 1 (23-29 September)

Births:

Olympic athelete Phylis Smith – 29 September 

163. The Bachelors – Diane (1964)

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And then, in the midst of the new pop sound, came Diane by the Bachelors. This trio from Dublin describe themselves as ‘the original Irish boy band’, and they might have a point, for the sound they make, placed next to Needles and Pins, is as dull and backward-looking as a Westlife anthem next to some late 90s or early 00s dance music.

The Bachelors were Con and Dec Cluskey and John Stokes. They had formed in 1957 as the Harmonichords, and played classically-styled instrumental harmonica pieces. They became known to the public following appearances on Hughie Green’s original Opportunity Knocks on Radio Luxembourg and a St Patrick’s Day Special edition of The Ed Sullivan Show in 1959. The following year Dick Rowe, then A&R man at Decca Records, suggested they changed their name to the Bachelors because it was the sort of boy a girl likes. The Bachelors’ brand of pop had much more in common with the kind of songs that were charting at the inception of the charts – rock’n’roll was anathema to them, let alone Merseybeat. Diane dates back to 1927, and was originally written by Ernö Rapée and Lew Pollack as the theme to the silent film Seventh Heaven.

I’ve listened to this song three times now, and I confess, I’m struggling to think of anything whatsoever to say about it, other than just how dated it is compared to the number 1s of late. It’s a big step backwards. I’m assuming the older generation were to blame here, and probably thought the trio looked like nice boys that could sing a tune from their past without all that screaming and noisy electric guitars and drums bashing away. Perhaps young girls too, who were a bit too innocent for groups like the Dave Clark Five? Whoever the market was, it’s certainly not me. Admittedly I’m not the world’s biggest easy listening fan, but I’ve enjoyed and admired many of the genre’s number 1s so far. This is one of the least memorable number 1s I’ve heard.

Nonetheless, the Bachelors had a period of worldwide fame, scoring hits all over the world with covers including I Believe and Marie. They eventually showed some willing to move with the times – their last UK hit was a version of Simon & Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence, reaching number three in 1966. Despite managing to stay popular throughout the rapid musical taste changes of the 60s, the start of the 70s saw film, TV and live appearances all dry up. In 1984 they split following an argument between the Cluskey brothers and Stokes, with the Cluskeys becoming the New Bachelors. However, Stokes also started appearing under that name and things got very messy. These days you’ll find websites for Con & Dec the Bachelors, and the Bachelors with John Stokes, so you could find yourself twice as likely to be bored to tears.

Written by: Ernö Rapée & Lew Pollack

Producers: Shel Talmy & Mike Stone

Weeks at number 1: 1 (20-26 February)

141. The Tornados – Telstar (1962)

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It must have sounded to many like their record players or radios were malfunctioning at first. Telstar slowly fades in like no number 1 had ever done, to the sound of white noise, conjuring up images of the satellite the song was named after, before the clavioline begins and the tune gallops into life. Joe Meek’s imaginative masterpiece was a futuristic, optimistic anthem promising (like popular culture did so much at the time) a bright space-age future. But for its creator, it ultimately resulted in his life spiralling out of control, leading to murder and suicide.

Meek was obsessed with technology, so the launch of the Telstar communications satellite was a natural source of inspiration for him. He had become intrigued by the sound of the clavioline on the Dave Cortez hit The Happy Organ, and must have felt the instrument would help his new instrumental sound suitably space age. He gave the song to his group the Tornados, who formed in 1960, before providing backing for rock’n’roller Billy Fury. Like the Shadows with Cliff Richard, they also recorded instrumentals under their own name. In 1962 the group consisted of Clem Cattini on drums, who had already recorded several number 1s and would go on to perform more than anyone else, George Bellamy on rhythm guitar (father of Muse frontman Matt Bellamy, and very possibly an influence on that band), bassist Heinz Burt, lead guitarist Alan Caddy and Norman Hale on keyboards.  Meek produced Telstar in his usual (or unusual) way, recording the bulk of the track with the band in his flat. After laying down the main instruments, his associate Geoff Goddard, who had written Meek’s previous number 1, Johnny Remember Me added the clavioline that made the tune so unique, Meek was then in his element, adding the effects that were his signature. That sound of a spacecraft taking off at the beginning is in fact his toilet flushing, in reverse. Meek was achieving backwards effects four years before George Martin and the Beatles were experimenting along similar lines. Deciding that this new song needed something to help bring it to a climax, he hit upon the idea of adding a wordless vocal to mirror the clavioline, which Goddard also provided. The Tornados thought this was a bad idea, and you can’t blame them, as such a technique wasn’t well known at the time. Who’d heard of an instrumental with singing on it? At some point, the group also filmed a primitive video, with film clips of astronauts interspersed with the Tornados playing along. So much for Bohemian Rhapsody being the first music video.

Ever since Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space in 1961, the US became obsessed with the space age, and sure enough the UK followed suit. Telstar tapped into this feeling like no other song had even attempted at that point. Listening to this joyous sound, record buyers must have felt the future was now, and that it would only be a matter of time before they or their children would be living on the moon. 56 years later, it’s truly remarkable that such a song could come from the troubled mind of a schizophrenic in his independent home studio. The charts had come a long way since Al Martino’s Here in My Heart, nearly ten years previous.

Telstar was one of the biggest-selling singles of the year and became the first US number 1 to come from a UK group. Capitalising on its success, Meek produced a new version, with lyrics, entitled Magic Star, sung by Kenny Hollywood, but the lyrics took away some of the song’s mystery. Sadly, the original single was caught up in a legal battle when French composer Jean Ledrut accused Meek of plagiarising La Marche d’Austerlitz, a part of a score he had composed for the 1960 film Auschwitz. Meek claimed to have never seen the film (it hadn’t been released in the UK at this point), but the lawsuit prevented him from receiving any royalties for his biggest hit. Come 1967, this would have fatal repercussions.

In 1963, with Beatlemania on the rise (Meek had turned down the chance to work with the Fab Four), instrumental groups were losing ground, and the Tornados began to fall apart. This was in part due to Meek’s growing obsession with the bassist Heinz, who he had convinced he could make a solo star. Unfortunately, Heinz couldn’t sing, and the vocals on his solo debut were over-dubbed. Audiences weren’t keen, and poor Heinz would be attacked on stage, with beans thrown over him (Heinz Baked Beans, y’see). Eventually Heinz and Meek fell out, with Heinz leaving behind a shotgun… In 1965 Clem Cattini left the Tornados to go on to a safer and hugely successful career as a session drummer, and the band were left with no original members. In 66, the band made history again, releasing the first openly gay song, Do You Come Here Often? as a B-side The organ-led instrumental featured a casual conversation between two seemingly-homosexual men. The Tornados would do what countless 60s bands went on to do, namely reforming in a million different line-ups, and recorded various versions of Telstar. The original will always be the best. It was also one of Margaret Thatcher’s favourite songs, but don’t let that put you off.

The day after Telstar reached number 1, the public were served notice that soon the worlds of music and cinema would be changed dramatically, heralding the start of the 60s, two years after they’d actually began. 5 October saw the release of the first James Bomd film, Dr No, starring Sean Connery, and the Beatles first single in their own right, Love Me Do, was also released.

Written & produced by: Joe Meek

Weeks at number 1: 5 (4 October-7 November)

Births:

Presenter Caron Keating – 5 October 
Actress Nicola Bryant – 11 October 
Artist Naive John – 18 October 
Comedian Boothby Graffoe – 20 October – t
Presenter Nick Hancock – 25 October 
Actor Cary Elwes – 26 October

Deaths:

Activist Hugh Franklin – 21 October
Journalist Percy Cudlipp – 5 November 

137. Mike Sarne with Wendy Richard – Come Outside (1962)

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April 1962 had seen the release of Carry On Cruising, the sixth film in the series. By this point, the movies had developed (or regressed depending on which way you look at it) into bawdy innuendo-laden comedies – saucy seaside postcards on film. Sid James and Kenneth Williams were topping the bills, and this type of humour remained incredibly popular for years to come. So it comes as no surprise that eventually someone would try to capture this essence on vinyl. Writer and producer Charles Blackwell was the guilty party that came up with Come Outside.

Blackwell had been working with genius producer Joe Meek, and had helped arrange Johnny Remember Me, so we’re clearly talking about someone who should know better. Its singer, John Leyton, was an actor, and a starring role in a soap had helped the single get to number 1. Perhaps he had this in mind, as Leyton was managed by future influential figure Robert Stigwood, who also managed Mike Sarne.

Sarne, born Michael Scheuer in 1940, was primarily an actor, but also dabbled in music. He provided phonetic transcriptions to guide singers including Leyton and Billy Fury in cutting German versions of their hits. It seems that Blackwell approached Stigwood with Come Outside, and one of them considered Sarne perfect for the job. At the time, a young actress called Wendy Richard was working as his secretary. Although she was born in Middlesbrough, she had developed a strong line in sardonic putdowns, spoken in a broad Cockney accent. Stigwood thought she could make the perfect comic foil for Sarne, but Blackwell wasn’t keen. Let’s be grateful Stigwood won out, because if he hadn’t, the song would seem even seedier than it became.

It’s important to remember just how popular smutty comedy was in the 1960s and 70s when listening to Come Outside. I’m not defending it – it’s bloody awful, and this is from someone with a soft spot for the Carry On films – but context is everything. This is a comedy song, and shouldn’t be taken too seriously, but in the era of #MeToo, it makes for uncomfortable listening.

Musically, Come Outside isn’t too bad. It’s a catchy tune, and it doesn’t sound too far removed from the Merseybeat sound that was yet to come. Mike Sarne is performing the song as a cheeky Cockney rogue who’s just dying to get his ‘little doll’ outside for a bit of ‘slap and tickle’ as he calls it. The trouble is, Wendy Richard would rather listen to the band that’s performing. And so Sarne goes on and on, in this awful, flat Cockney voice, harassing her to join him because ‘There’s a lovely moon out there’. I don’t think astronomy is on his mind for one second, and Richard’s character is no fool either. In fact, she played a slightly older version of this character for years in Are You Being Served?. Miss Brahms spent most of her time fending off the amorous Mr Lucas, and various characters that replaced him, throughout the 70s, using sarcasm as her main form of defence. Did Perry and Croft know this song well enough to give her the part on the basis of this performance? You could almost congratulate her character in this song for refusing to take any crap, but sadly by the end of Come Outside, she can’t take his moaning any longer, and Sarne gets his way as the song fades out.

This song didn’t seem to come up too much in obituaries for Richard when she died of breast cancer in 2005, and I had no idea she’d had a number 1 single until I began researching this. You can’t blame anyone for preferring to concentrate on her long -running roles as Miss Brahms and then Pauline Fowler as EastEnders, the latter of which made her a national treasure. I wouldn’t blame Richard for wanting to keep quiet about Come Outside either. Sarne eventually ditched music and moved solely into acting and directing, but before then he made other songs, including Will I What?, which repeated the number 1 formula but with Billy Davis in the female role. This time, she puts him off by mentioning marriage and he suddenly remembers he’s meant to be with the boys down the pub. Oh that lad! What a cad/dickhead!

In other news during July 1962, the month began with more heavy smog over London, making the summer air, darkening the summer mood. Laurence Olivier became the first artistic director of Chichester Festival Theatre, upon its opening on 3 July. And on 11 July, live television was broadcast from the US to the UK for the first time via the Telstar communications satellite, with the first public transmission on 23 July. Blackwell’s associate and electronics obsessive Joe Meek was no doubt watching from his flat-cum-studio, and an idea for a song was forming.

UPDATE: The Wikipedia entry for this song mentions a remake in 1991 for Children in Need, performed by Samantha Fox, Frank Bruno, Liz Kershaw and Bruno Brookes. I naturally assumed this was a joke, but apparently, such a thing exists! If anyone can point me in the direction of this, I can die happy. An official Children in Need song about a man pestering his girlfriend for sex – and they say the 70s were politically incorrect…

ANOTHER UPDATE: I’ve found the video!

Written & produced by: Charles Blackwell

Weeks at number 1: 2 (28 June-11 July)

Births:

Actress Amanda Donohoe – 29 June
Actor Neil Morrissey – 4 July 

122. Eden Kane – Well I Ask You (1961)

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Eden Kane’s time at the top of the charts came swiftly, and ended almost as quickly. Kane was born Richard Graham Sarstedt in March 1940. His family lived in New Delhi, India, and two of his younger brothers, Peter and Clive, would also become musicians. Peter even reached number 1 too, in 1969, with the ballad Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)?, and Clive had a number 3 hit in 1976 with a cover of My Resistance is Low, under the name Robin Sarstedt. The family moved to Kurseong to run a tea plantation, but when his father dies, Richard, his mother, brother and three sisters moved to the UK, settling in Norbury in Croydon. He became a big Bill Haley fan, and he and his brothers started a group called the Fabulous 5.

The next step towards fame came when Richard won a talent contest at Kings Road in Chelsea. The prize wasn’t very rock’n’roll – it was the chance to record an advertising jingle for Cadbury’s Drinking Chocolate. The song, Hot Chocolate Crazy, is a funny little ditty now, but it got him noticed due to plenty of airplay on Radio Luxembourg and it became the B-side of his first single, You Make Love So Well, on Pye Records. Sarstedt was a handsome man, so his looks would appeal to girls, but what about his name? His new management team, Philip Waddilove and Michael Barclay, christened him Eden Kane. The forename was due to the fashion for biblical names at the time, ie Adam Faith, and the surname came from Barclay’s love of the film Citizen Kane (1941). Kane moved to Decca, and his first single for them, Well I Ask You, had been written by Les Vandyke, a pseudonym for Johnny Worth, who had written both of Adam Faith’s number 1s, What Do You Want? and Poor Me. Overseeing production was Bunny Lewis, who had worked on three number 1s – David Whitfield’s Answer Me, Cara Mia, by Whitfield and Mantovani, and Only Sixteen by Craig Douglas.

Kane’s number 1 is your average slice of early 60s pop, and you can easily imagine it being sang by Faith, or Anthony Newley. It would also be at home as the TV theme to a cheeky sitcom. I can picture Sid James or Paul Shane winking at the camera when I hear the bawdy-sounding main hook. The cheeriness belies the fact Kane is mightily pissed off at this girl, who has treated him like crap and now expects to get him back. I’m not sure about the way Kane sings ‘Well I ask ya’, but at least he isn’t doing a Buddy Holly impression. I haven’t heard the follow-up single, Get Lost, but I really hope that it’s his answer to his relationship conundrum.

Kane’s next few singles all performed well, but his last hit came in 1964 during the height of the beat boom. He appeared on television shows with new acts like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but he saw the writing on the wall, and following a stint with his own TV show in Australia, he moved to California and became a producer. In 1972 the Sarstedt Brothers released an album, Worlds Apart Together, but it didn’t set the world alight the same way some of their solo singles had. Weirdly, in the 90s he became contracted to play several small parts in the various Star Trek spin-offs, – Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Star Trek: Voyager, and was credited as Richard Starstedt. These days he occasionally pops up on the nostalgia circuit alongside other stars of the era.

The drummer on Well I Ask You was Clem Cattini, who was a member of Johnny Kidd & the Pirates when they hit number 1 with Shakin’ All Over. Cattini’s name will be popping up many more times in this blog, as the session drummer holds the record for most appearances on UK number 1s – at least 42, some sources say more. The list of his best-selling appearances is simply staggering – an eclectic mix of artists including the Tornados, the Walker Brothers, Thunderclap Newman, Ken Dodd, T Rex, Benny Hill and Hot Chocolate, and his number 1s date right up to the (Is This the Way to ) Amarillo, the 2005 Comic Relief single by Tony Christie featuring Peter Kay. He was also considered by Jimmy Page as a possible drummer for Led Zeppelin. This man surely deserves some kind of award?

Written by: Les Vandyke

Producer: Bunny Lewis

Weeks at number 1: 1 (3-9 August)

Births:

Comedian Brian Conley – 7 August

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written by: Johnny Kidd & Guy Robinson

Producer: Wally Ridley

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