Is this where 80s pop music truly began? Much as David Bowie’s first number 1 Space Oddity bid farewell to the 60s, its sequel Ashes to Ashes saw ‘the Action Man’ put a full stop on his most experimental period, while future New Romantics took note.
Before
Not that his best-selling single achieved the top spot when the public first heard the tale of Major Tom in 1969. It was a 1975 reissue by RCA, released after his album Young Americans. Soon after the re-release came Golden Years, a bridge between the blue-eyed soul of the last LP and his next, which peaked at eight. But as great as the new material was, Bowie was becoming more and more addicted to cocaine. Weight was falling off his already slender body, he wasn’t sleeping, and his brain was flirting with an unhealthy interest in fascism.
All this and an upcoming starring role as an alien in an adaptation of The Man Who Fell to Earth resulted in his latest character, the Thin White Duke. He later claimed to have no memory of recording his next album. That one of his greatest albums, Station to Station, was the result, is insane. A brilliant mix of soul, funk, balladry and krautrock, this LP was another sign of what was to come – the so-called ‘Berlin Trilogy’.
Whether the ‘Victoria Station Incident’, where Bowie may or may not have greeted fans with a Nazi salute, happened or not, the controversy suggested the Thin White Duke was entering dangerous territory. However, his decision to move to West Berlin in 1976 along with partner-in-crime Iggy Pop was actually an attempt to get better. Working with Brian Eno and Tony Visconti, Bowie took his interest in krautrock further than before, and released Low, recorded in France, in 1977.
Despite Low’s reputation, there is still great pop amongst the ambient and experimental music within. Most explicitly, Sound and Vision, which despite the long instrumental opening and spacey sound, was catchy as hell, and became one of his bestselling 70s hits, reaching three, despite a distinct lack of promotion.
The next LP, “Heroes”, was the only full Bowie album actually recorded in Berlin. But although this time was fully on board with promoting his latest work, the title track, now rightly considered one of his greatest songs, surprisingly only got as far as 24. Now cleaner, if not 100% clean of drugs, Bowie was increasingly busy, touring the material from Low and “Heroes” and releasing a recording – Stage – in 1978, as well as narrating a recording of Peter and the Wolf.
Recorded in the latter stage of his Isolar II world tour, Lodger, released in 1979, ditched the ambient instrumentals of his previous Berlin Trilogy work, and was a mix of new wave and world music. Lodger is underrated, and features great material, including number seven hit Boys Keep Swinging.
In December 1979, Bowie, perhaps with the 10-year anniversary of Space Oddity in mind, re-recorded his 1975 number 1 for Will Kenny Everett Ever Make It to 1980? Show. Stripped down to acoustic guitar, bass, drums and piano, this sparse mix was released as a B-side to his insane cover of Alabama Song. Released in February 1980, somehow this single reached 23. Probably because of the novelty factor of an alternative version of Space Oddity, rather than the A-side.
Returning to Space Oddity got Bowie thinking. What happened to Major Tom, as that song faded away and Ground Control lost contact? In a promo interview for the subsequent album Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps), Bowie said ‘We come to him 10 years later and find the whole thing has soured, because there was no reason for putting him up there… The most disastrous thing I could think of is that he finds solace in some kind of heroin-type drug, actually cosmic space feeding him: an addiction. He wants to return to the womb from whence he came.’ Sound familiar? Bowie reached for the stars, got what he strived for, and ended up losing touch with himself, strung out in heaven’s high, hitting an all-time Low – literally.
Bowie was already reaching into his past for Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps). He was reworking old demos of unfinished songs. In 2022, the box set Divine Symmetry was released, featuring early Hunky Dory material and fragments of songs that he returned to nine years later. Tired of My Life became eventual album opener It’s No Game Pt 1, and 30 seconds into a track called King of the City, you can plainly hear what became the middle-eight of Ashes to Ashes. It’s a fascinating listen.
When the sessions for Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps) began at the Power Station in New York in February 1980, no lyrics existed for Ashes to Ashes, or People Are Turning to Gold, as it was called then, just lots of ‘la la las’. Interesting to wonder what the song would have become if this title had remained. The band assembled was the same as for his last four albums – Carlos Alomar on guitar, George Murray on bass and Dennis Davis on drums. Also contributing were pianist Roy Bittan from Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band – who were recording The River next door – and Chuck Hammer, who played guitar synthesiser.
While Alomar set to work playing reggae, and Murray put down a funky baseline with some slapping, Davis understandably struggled with the ska drumbeat Bowie envisioned. The singer demonstrated with a chair and cardboard box, which Davis learned and laid down the following day. Visconti originally wanted Bittan’s piano lines to be recorded on a Wurlitzer electric piano, but after discovering it would take too long to get hold of the instrument, he instead ran the grand piano through an Eventide Instant Flanger, which created that distinctive, wonky riff the rhythm is built around. Hammer, who had toured with Lou Reed and was hired for his inventive ‘guitarchitecture’, created and layered four different multi-track guitar textures, each receiving different treatments through an Eventide Harmoniser (which Visconti had famously claimed ‘fucks with the fabric of time’ for extra reverb.
So far, so good. So very, very good. But unlike his recent albums, where Bowie wrote the lyrics often immediately after the backing tracks, he took his time on Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps). The band reconvened in April at Visconti’s Good Earth Studios in London. Visconti added additional percussion, plus keyboard parts by session keyboardist Andy Clark. Everyone involved knew they had something special upon completion, and it was inevitable this would be the lead single from the LP.
Review
Bowie wrote lots of great music after Ashes to Ashes, but it’s most probably his final absolute classic, in effect waving goodbye to a decade of startling creativity. In his excellent Bowie blog, Pushing Ahead of the Dame, Chris O’Leary has a very good point in calling it his last song. It’s a dark nursery rhyme, full of strange phrasing, vocal lines, and imagery, all underpinned by quirky, infectious groove. ‘Do you remember a guy that’s been/In such an early song?’ is an odd opening gambit for the listener. But it’s only the start, as Ground Control reveals the rumour is true: ‘They got a message from the action man’. And while ‘I’m happy, hope you’re happy too’ bodes well, the lyrics get murkier, but make it clear that Major Tom needs bringing down to earth….
‘The shrieking of nothing is killing, just Pictures of Jap girls in synthesis and I Ain’t got no money and I ain’t got no hair But I’m hoping to kick but the planet it’s glowing’
What surreal, bleak imagery, and a bridge like no other in the annals of number 1s. What makes it all the more remarkable is how it sounds – Bowie’s deadpan intonation sounds in danger of causing the already complex tune to fall apart. And underneath, ghostly backing vocals, possibly repeating Major Tom, it’s hard to tell at this point.
The almost comical moroseness of the chorus, masked in a creepy nursery rhyme, of course, totally hits the spot, and you can’t help but think of Major Tom, floating in a tin can, and the mirror image of Bowie, weighing six-stone, living off cocaine and milk and dabbling with the occult, as he was in the mid-70s, when Space Oddity was at the top of the hit parade.
Things get even weirder in the second verse, with Bowie’s chilling falsetto revealing that Major Tom can’t beat his addiction. ‘But the little green wheels are following me/Oh no, not again’ – what a ridiculous, sublime way to detail drug dependency.
In the next bridge, Bowie’s ‘valuable friend’ is louder, and it’s apparent he is just repeating himself, right down to the deadpan ‘Woh-o-woh’. It’s just occurred to me that ‘out of the blue’ could be taken literally – that Major Tom, since swapping the blue sky of Earth for the stars, has been content to live as a junkie, and essentially done nothing since he ‘really made the grade’.
I forget where, but someone once pointed out that ‘Wanna come down right now’ signifies Bowie’s need to figuratively get back to living clean but also signposts his 80s direction as a relatively straight-edge pop superstar. Whether it was intentional or not, it’s a very good point.
As Ashes to Ashes descends into malevolent childish chanting of its close, and the already amazing production breaks out into ghostly synths, you can picture Major Tom’s ship either flirting further out into the outer reaches of space, or landing back on home soil, a broken man inside, but one that can be saved?
David Mallet’s groundbreaking video, recorded over three days in May, was the most expensive ever at that point. It remains one of the most costly, with Bowie storyboarding and dictating the editing process. The use of a Quantel Paintbox, soon to be used extensively in film and TV, creates a ghostly alien world of black sky and pink ocean at Beachy Head and Hastings. Bowie is three characters, clown, astronaut and asylum inmate, all of which represent aspects of his past as a mime and, well, the other two are obvious, all things considered. The scenes of Bowie in his spacesuit were deliberately designed to reflect HR Giger’s incredible work in Alien, released the year before.
While such futurism looks charmingly dated now, a less distant future is also on show, with Steve Strange of Visage walking with Bowie along the sand, as a bulldozer menacingly creeps up behind them. Fellow Blitz Kids Marilyn and Boy George were passed over. If you haven’t heard Bowie superfan Adam Buxton’s telling of a charming anecdote about the filming of this scene, check it out here.
After
The album mix of Ashes to Ashes was edited down from 4:23 to 3:35 for the single release, which could be bought in three different picture sleeves, which each contained a sheet of adhesive stamps of Bowie in his Pierrot costume. The variety of ways to buy may well have contributed to its success in the UK, where it became Bowie’s second number 1 for a fortnight in late summer after debuting at four.
Live performances of Ashes to Ashes were rare through the years, which, considering its complexity, is understandable.
Major Tom did return briefly to the charts in 1996, courtesy of the Pet Shop Boys remix of Hallo Spaceboy. Initially reticent when told of their plan, he agreed it worked well upon hearing their disco take on the track from 1.Outside.
The video to Ashes to Ashes remains one of the most influential examples of the medium, and everyone sat up and took notice as to what could be done. Music videos may have existed since the 60s, but in the MTV age, they were about to be ubiquitous.
The Outro
Ashes to Ashes was sampled in Samantha Mumba’s top five hit Body II Body in 2000, and again by James Murphy for his remix of Bowie’s own Love Is Lost in 2013. It was also the name of the BBC’s sequel to police drama Life on Mars.
In late-2015, the surreal video to Bowie’s penultimate single in his lifetime, Blackstar, featured a dead astronaut, discovered by a woman with a tail. She takes his jewel-encrusted skull to a strange alien town, where a circle of women perform a ritual while the astronaut’s bones float towards a solar eclipse. Director Johan Renck said after Bowie’s death he believed the astronaut was meant to be Major Tom.
The Info
Written by
David Bowie
Producers
David Bowie & Tony Visconti
Weeks at number 1
2 (23 August-5 September)
Trivia
Births
23 August: Actress Joanne Froggatt 28 August: Chef Rachel Khoo 4 September: Football coach Michael Beale
Deaths
24 August: Actress Yootha Joyce/Linguist Gerard Shelley 26 August: Olympic swimmer Lucy Morton 27 August: Suffragette Arabella Scott 28 August: Academic Roy Pascal 31 August: Writer Anne Tibble 1 September: Film director Arthur Greville Collins 3 September: Surgeon Russell Brock, Baron Brock/Physician Sir George Pickering
Meanwhile…
28 August: For the first time since 1935, unemployment stands at 2 million.
1 September: Ford launches the third generation Escort, which later becomes the best-selling car of the decade in Britain.
I’m just about done with the 70s for the time being, but before I get on with Every UK Number 1: The 60s, here’s one more look at the decade. As usual when I finish choosing my highs and lows of a decade, I take a look at the number 2s (oo-er). Why? Well, it’s a chance to take an alternative look at the most popular songs of the decade and see how they compare with the songs that pipped them to the post. It’s long been believed that some of the greatest songs of all time missed out on the top spot. This certainly proved true in the 60s.
Will it prove to be the case for the 70s? Let’s find out. As per usual, I’ll look at each year, pick a best and worst for each year, then an overall winner and loser. Any future past number 1s aren’t included – these songs must have reached no higher than 2.
1970
Just as with the number 1 selection of this year, rock is the main genre dominating the runner-up chart position. And there’s some real beauties. Elvis Presley’s greatest song, Suspicious Minds, gets things off to an excellent start. Like the best number 2s, it’s criminal this didn’t top the charts. Folk trio Peter, Paul and Mary are next with their version of John Denver’s Leaving on a Jet Plane. This was the version that was a hit, and rightly so as the harmonies are lovely. Let’s Work Together – later a hit for Roxy Music as Let’s Stick Together – is an excellent dose of raucous blues-rock courtesy of Canned Heat. The Beatles bow out of the charts with Let It Be, which is obviously a classic, but for a change, I’m not picking it as the winner. We won’t see them again until Every 90s Number 2, when Free As a Bird was pipped to the post. Question by The Moody Blues is a lovely piece of prog rock. It’s a bit like Fleetwood Mac’s Oh Well, in that it’s more like a two-parter, but both halves are great. Groovin’ with Mr Bloe was a B-side for a band called Wind that changed their name to Mr Bloe when this song became an accidental hit in the US. Although an unknown called Elton John recorded a version, it was ignored in favour of the harmonica-led soul original at last. It’s not bad. Then we’ve a couple of bangers. All Right Now by Free and Lola by The Kinks are still evergreen rock classics. Less famous is Neanderthal Man by session musicians Hotlegs, later known as 10cc. They were messing about with drum sounds in the studio when they stumbled upon their suitably primitive rock smasher. The rocksteady favourite You Can Get it if You Really Want was written and recorded by Jimmy Cliff before number 1 artist Desmond Dekker and the Aces released their version, which outdid Cliff’s. I find it a little overrated, to be honest. Then another total rock classic, and one of the greatest riffs of all time – Deep Purple’s Black Night. Patches is a forgotten soul track by Chairmen of the Board’s singer General Johnson, but blind singer Clarence Carter took it to number 2. It’s not aged well. Rounding a great year off is When I’m Dead and Gone by rock band McGuinness Flint. It’s pretty nice, and thanks to the mandolin is rather similar to Maggie May. Two of the band later departed to become Gallagher and Lyle.
The Best:
The Jackson 5 –I Want You Back
As you can see with such incredible competition, the winner of 1970 has to be pretty special. I nearly went with Suspicious Minds but few songs show the majestic uplifting beauty of pop at its best than this. It’s mad to think the Jacksons didn’t get a UK number 1 until 1977. I Want You Back, their debut, is still guaranteed to fill dance floors after all these years. Effervescent and sweet without being too sugary, it’s bloody brilliant. And whatever Michael Jackson later became, what a talent he was in 1970.
The Worst:
Mary Hopkin –Knock Knock, Who’s There
Young folk star Hopkin had recorded some great Paul McCartney material initially, including number 1 Those Were the Days, but this tune, which became the runner-up at the Eurovision Song Contest, is a big letdown. It’s perfect as a 70s Eurovision entry, and certainly better than the winner, but it’s the worst song in a very good year.
1971
Similar to 1970 but a lower rate of classics. But the first stirrings of glam are here, with the genre’s pioneers, T Rex, topping and tailing the year. The Pushbike Song by Australian band The Mixtures, is a very obvious copy of Mungo Jerry’s In the Summertime, but I can’t help but enjoy it anyway. It’s followed by Another Day, which was the debut solo single by a Mr Paul McCartney. John Lennon may have slated this by comparing it to Yesterday in How Do You Sleep?, but unfairly so in my opinion. It’s a lovely single. A controversial classic next, as The Rolling Stones got to number 2 for the last time with Brown Sugar/Bitch/Let It Rock. The first track was until recently considered one of the band’s best, but in the wake of Black Lives Matter and #metoo, the lyrical references to the slave trade and rape have understandably seen this removed from the Stones setlist. Bitch is a decent track from Sticky Fingers, with a good guitar and brass riff, and Let It Rock is a so-so run-through an old Chuck Berry song at the University of Leeds. There must have been something in the air in 1971, as the next three tracks are all about death. Indiana Wants Me was inspired by Canadian country singer R Dean Taylor’s viewing of Bonnie and Clyde and is written from the point of view who murdered a man who insulted his woman, which seems somewhat of an overreaction. It’s not bad, atmospheric and ending with gunfire. Not as good as his best-known track There’s a Ghost in My House, though. Then there’s I Did What I Did for Maria by Sheffield singer Tony Christie, sounding just like Tom Jones here. This is from the POV of a widower on Death Row who is about to die for avenging the death of his wife. Interesting premise, but so-so as a song. Worth mentioning it was written and produced by 50s hitmaker Mitch Murray and Peter Callander, who wrote Georgie Fame’s 1968 number 1, The Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde. They also wrote Christie’s 2005 number 1 Is This the Way to Amarillo. Then, Don’t Let It Die by Hurricane Smith. Norman Smith had been an engineer for The Beatles from 1963-65. Promoted to a producer, he worked with bands including Pink Floyd. He wrote this track as a warning abut the future of the Earth with Lennon in mind, but producer Mickie Most said Smith should release it himself. It’s pretty good, and Smith’s vocal is pretty weird, sounding slightly unhinged, even. Future glam stars The Sweet scored their first real hit with Co-Co, a catchy but cheesy calypso-style track. The New Seekers’ cover of Delaney & Bonnie’s Never Ending Song of Love is throwaway pap. Nancy Sinatra and her producer Lee Hazlewood, four years after her last number 1 Somethin’ Stupid, narrowly missed out with the duet Did You Ever, which I think is filthier than it first appears. Scottish popsters Middle of the Road followed up their number 1 Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep with Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum, which isn’t quite as irritating as their chart-topper, at least but it’s throwaway nonsense. US funk rockers redbone liven things up somewhat with the spooky The Witch Queen of New Orleans. Tom Jones’s cover of a 50s track, Till, is typically overblown, but not very memorable. Marc Bolan returns to end the year with the lightweight but enjoyable Jeepster. T Rex really were on fire in the early 70s.
The Best:
T Rex – Ride a White Swan
And here’s the song that finally made Bolan, after years as a cult figure in Tyrannosaurus Rex, into a bona fide star. With only Bolan and percussionist Mickey Finn on board, it’s a fascinating bridge from the low-key whimsy of his former band into the electric, catchy pop template of T Rex’s future four number 1s and so much more.
The Worst:
Ray Stevens – Bridget the Midget (The Queen of the Blues)
Oh Ray, you really don’t do great with me, do you? On the basis of this and one of the worst chart-toppers of the 70s, The Streak, Stevens really was the master of awfully unfunny novelty crap. This is marginally better than that track, purely on the basis of a catchy piano riff. The rest is total shit. Pitched-up vocals from Stevens are meant to give the impression he is Bridget, a small, high-pitched singer. Fuck’s sake.
1972
Glam makes its presence felt with some classics and some that are best forgotten. But first, 11-year-old Scottish Opportunity Knocks winner Neil Reid with his soppy old cover of Mother of Mine. Pretty much forgotten now, unlike Don McLean’s American Pie. It’s better than his 1972 number 1 Vincent, but overfamiliarity with it makes me weary. Way too long, also. Ringo Starr! This is much more like it. His early 70s collaborations with fellow-Beatle George Harrison are well worth checking out, and Back OffBoogaloo is probably the best. Is it a Paul McCartney diss? Maybe, but it’s definitely very glam-sounding, that’s undeniable. Greek singer Vicky Leandros won Eurovision with Après Toi, and the English translation, Come What May, shows she had a great voice, but there’s not a lot to say about it otherwise. David Cassidy is next with a double A-side, Could It Be Forever?/Cherish. His voice is less irritating than it is on the number 1s he followed this up with, and I didn’t mind the former, but the latter is very wet and overlong, albeit with a nice climax (that’s what she said). I used to think Rocket Man was merely Elton John ripping off Space Oddity, but it’s grown on me over the last year or so. Great vocal and nice synth sound too. Won’t be a shock to hear I’d rather forget about Gary Glitter but unfortunately he crops up a lot now. Annoyingly though, Rock and Roll, Parts 1 and 2 still sounds good. But that’s down to producer Mike Leander. And at least Part 2 is an instrumental so we don’t even have to think about Glitter… except his voice is all over it still, particularly all those horrible yelping noises at the end… Then it’s Dr Hook and the Medicine Show’s Sylvia’s Mother. Nice idea, writing a song about a man ringing his ex to get her back, only for her mum to answer, but unfortunately the vocal is so overwrought it ruins it. Long before Jona Lewis was wishing he was home for Christmas, he was doing the Seaside Shuffle with Terry Dactyl and the Dinosaurs. Nice, jaunty little novelty track that makes me want to go for a paddle. After that we’ve the evergreen Children of the Revolution, a standout T Rex track that I actually prefer to his last two number 1s, Telegram Sam and Metal Guru. It’s a little different to Bolan’s usual fare thanks to the epic arrangement. Hotlegs became 10c with the release of doo-wop pastiche Donna, but it’s too similar to Oh! Darling by the Beatles, and not particularly funny. And here come the legendary Slade with Gudbuy T’Jane, an excellent ode to a woman who demonstrated a sex machine on a US chat show they appeared on.
The Best:
The Osmonds – Crazy Horses
Still astounds me how a Mormon boyband in effect pulled a ‘Monkees’ and decided to rock out and play their own instruments. Rehearsing in a basement, Wayne came up with the monster chugging riff, Merrill invented the melody and gave the verse vocal to Jay and Alan got the chords. Donny’s voice was breaking so he didn’t sing, but his organ was a stallion (that’s what she said), which, put through a wah-wah pedal, gave the song its hook. And what a hook. This ode to ecology had a great message, too. Their record label were understandably concerned before its release, but it did very well, particularly in the UK, and it bloody well deserved to.
The Worst:
The New Seekers – Beg, Steal or Borrow
Another Eurovision entry, this time for the UK. It came second but like the other contest entries so far, it’s pretty dull. But they perform it well. I do have a little respect for The New Seekers – they seem to have had a bit more going for them than the usual light entertainment singers of the era.
1973
Peak glam, with only a few pop songs getting a look in. T Rex are back for the last time with Solid Gold Easy Action, which is only an average Bolan track, but that’s still better than most of the competition. Very much of its time is the rowdy left-wing folk singalong Part of the Union by The Strawbs. I’ve read differing opinions on this over the years. Is it pro-unions or a pisstake. Probably the former. Either way, it’s an earworm and a reminder of days when unions held more power. The Faces next, with the rather lacklustre Cindy Incidentally. It’s no Stay with Me or Ooh La La. Sadly Glitter was at the peak of his powers this year with two more famous stompers. Hello! Hello! I’m Back Again is the least revolting of the two, and of course is better known these days for being knicked by Oasis. The Sweet are much more welcome with their two – Hell Raiser and particularly The Ballroom Blitz are great raunchy rockers, which probably went down a storm live, and bassist Steve Priest’s camp interjections are always fun. I like The Carpenters in small doses, but Yesterday Once More is a bit too saccharine, however lovely the production is. Barry Blue was perhaps too lightweight to be remembered for his glam single Dancing (on a Saturday Night), but it’s pretty good, if a bit on the retro side, something which occurred more with glam a year later. The least glam-sounding glam song here is MY FRIEИD STAИ by Slade – their comeback single after drummer Don Powell’s car crash. I like the fact they styled this song with what looks to be Satanic writing. But the song is a bit of a curio, sounding more like a Chas and Dave tune. The Osmonds are back with Let Me In, which was familiar with me thanks to The Avalanches sampling it on Since I Left You in 2000. The rock of Crazy Horses is gone and replaced with the more familiar commercial pop sound, but it’s good at what it does. Judging them by their biggest hits, it seems The Osmonds were better as a group than their various offshoots. Don’t even get me started on Little Jimmy… The black glove of Alvin Stardust is one of the most recognisable glam sights of yore, but as I discovered when reviewing his number 1 Jealous Mind, it’s actually songwriter Pete Shelley singing that and this better, more famous track, My Coo-ca-Choo. Rounding things off is Marie Osmond with an old-fashioned cover of country track Paper Roses. Mad to think this was higher up the charts that December than Wizzard…
The Best:
David Bowie – The Jean Genie
It’s also mad to think David Bowie didn’t get to number 1 during his Ziggy Stardust phase and we have to settle with this instead. Bizarrely written and recorded at the same time as another Bo Diddley soundalike, number 1 Block Buster !, Bowie missed out on the top spot. And despite being a massive Bowie hardcore fan, I said in my review that I preferred The Sweet’s song (just). Yet that didn’t win by favourite number 1 of 1973. Confused? Me too. Anyway, allegedly inspired by Jean Genet and Iggy Pop, The Jean Genie always sounds great, even when you hear it for the millionth time.
The Worst:
Gary Glitter – Do You Wanna Touch Me? (Oh Yeah!) – Eugh. I hate to say it but despite despising this despicable chancer, a lot of Glitter songs still sound good. The guitar sound at the start of this is cool, but as usual I’m going to say it’s down to Leander. Lyrically, this is the most sickening Glitter tune to be forced to hear these days. Forever a black stain on the charts.
1974
Just as the standard of number 1s fell with the decline of glam, so did the runners-up. Even more so, in fact. The year begins with an overlong blast of circus music courtesy of Leo Sayer and his first hit, TheShow Must Go On. It’s an odd little tune, with interesting lyrics but an overwrought vocal. TeenageRampage is OK but probably the least impressive tune by The Sweet here. Then it’s the surprise comeback of The Hollies with a cover of Albert Hammond’s The Air That I Breathe. It’s perhaps best known these days for the verses being so similar to part of Radiohead’s Creep, but that takes away from the memorable chorus. Country singer Charlie Rich’s The Most Beautiful Girl is decent I suppose, if you like the genre, which I don’t much. Tiger Feet was definitely a late-glam era highlight and one of my favourite number 1s of 1974, but Mud’s The Cat Crept In just sounds like a tossed-off retread. The guitar is practically the same. The Bay City Rollers had two chart-toppers but Shang-a-Lang was the start of Roller-mania. It’s a very irritating song – I really don’t like the chorus. Finally, a song to shake things up a bit… It was This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us. Combining inventive glam, rather than its derivative aspect, with music hall and progressive pop, this is the song that alerted the world to Sparks. Produced by Muff Winwood of former chart-toppers The Spencer Davis Group, fact fans. Back to 50s-sounding glam with Showaddywaddy’s Hey Rock and Roll. The Leicester band were riding high from their New Faces win and penned this debut single. which features their name in the backing vocals. It’s terribly unoriginal, but the stomping in the chorus would have been quite fun for children I suppose. It wasn’t just rock that was low on ideas in 1974, as Kissin’ in the Back Row of the Movies by The Drifters sounds like 50s soul rather than genres like the Philly Sound, up soon. The band were unsure whether singing about picking their girl up from school when her homework was done was a good idea – imagine that happening now… Where do I know Stephanie De Sykes’ Born with a Smile on My Face from? Is it from a 90s comedy? Wherever I first heard it makes me nostalgic upon hearing it again, but can you be nostalgic for something you can’t even remember?! The Stylistics’ You Make Me Feel Brand New was more contemporary. Love the sitar at the start and tenor Airrion Love’s vocal is much more pleasant on the ears than the falsetto of Russell Thompkins Jr. Donny and Marie Osmond team up with the predictably boring easy listening tune I’m Leaving It Up to You. And the next one, Rock Me Gently by Andy Kim, isn’t much better. The electric piano gives it a nice sound, but it’s an average bubblegum pop song from one of the guys who sang with The Archies. Slade made the gritty film Flame in 1974, seemingly to prove there was more to them than the crazy outfits and excellent pop songs. Far Far Away is a decent attempt at a more mature sound, capturing the melancholy involved with life on the road. Other than the year’s best and worst, that only leaves Bachman Turner Overdrive’s You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet. As happy and catchy as this is, I can’t hear it without thinking of Smashie and Nicey, which makes it hard to do anything but laugh at it.
The Best:
Queen – Killer Queen
I can take or leave some of Queen’s output, which has often been ruined for me by overfamiliarity. But this, their breakthrough hit, has always been one of my favourites. This super-camp music hall ditty was about a high-class call girl, and was unusual in that Freddie Mercury came up with the lyrics before the tune. It’s a song that always sounds fresh and a large part of that is, ironically, the very 70s production.
The Worst:
Gary Glitter – Oh Yes! You’re Beautiful
Oh fuck off already! I wonder if the song title came to Glitter as he stared out into the sea of children at his gigs. Thankfully, he won’t trouble us anymore after this.
1975
An interesting, varied mix this year, topped and tailed with Christmas songs. Wombling Merry Christmas is fun, even if the concept of Mike Batt and co dressing up as Wombles seems so odd in modern times. It’s a very Bay City Rollers-style sound. Ralph McTell’s Streets of London next, which is the musical equivalent of a worn, comfy pair of slippers, even if the lyrics are actually quite depressing. I prefer Gloria Gaynor’s Never Can Say Goodbye to I Will Survive. Originally recorded by The Jackson 5, Gaynor’s version is considered one of the first disco tunes. A quick blast of the Glitter sound that’s OK to still enjoy. However, The Glitter Band never actually played on the paedophile’s records, only backing him live sometimes. Goodbye My Love isn’t up to scratch though, other than the nice guitar lick. The Carpenters are back but again, there’s better songs by Richard and Karen out there. Please Mr Postman is considered a classic, but it’s not a patch on The Beatles version. The Sweet broke away from Chinnichap in 1975 and produced a re-recording of Fox on the Run themselves. Singer Brian Connolly sounds more like Noddy Holder here and there’s a nice Roxy Music vibe to the keyboards. Not bad at all. Aww, it’s Minnie Riperton’s classic Lovin’ You next, which is excellent. Co-produced by Stevie Wonder, the melody was created by Riperton as a distraction for her daughter Maya, which is what she’s singing at the end. DJs faded it out though in case it was misinterpreted as a religious chant. The birdsong was a happy accident they decided to leave in. Showaddywaddy are back with their inferior version of Eddie Cochran’s Three Steps to Heaven. The spoken-word section is laughably sinister. Now, here’s a surprise… Ray Stevens, performing a country song straight… and it’s actually not bad! I like the banjo, Stevens has a great falsetto and it builds to a rousing finale. Roger Whittaker, much like his mate Des O’Connor, is seemingly unconcerned with getting emotion into a song. The Last Farewell is a predictably wet song about sailing from 1971, which was held off the top spot by Rod Stewart’s… Sailing. Leo Sayer is back with Moonlighting, sadly not the excellent theme to the 80s US TV series, but not bad. A close second place this year is Roxy Music’s Love is the Drug. I hadn’t even realised just how devoid of sex these songs had been up to now (I’m not counting Glitter in this). Excellent slinky groove to this one. We all know Hot Chocolate’s You Sexy Thing of course, and I’m still surprised it never made it to number 1. Sadly overfamiliarity and an air of cheese kind of spoils it these days, but it certainly is catchy as hell. Strangest song here is Laurel & Hardy’s The Trail of the Lonesome Pine. Apparently the silent comedy duo’s films were very popular on TV at the time and John Peel had championed this tune. Due to its age, it has an eerie, haunting melancholy to it that’s really interesting.
The Best:
Greg Lake –I Believe in Father Christmas
Combining sombre folk with Sergei Prokofiev’s Lieutenant Kiljé Suite, this is one of my favourite Christmas songs. Emerson Lake and Palmer’s Greg Lake wrote the music and his former King Crimson bandmate Peter Sinfield wrote the lyrics as a protest at the commercialisation and loss of childhood belief in the festive season. Despite, or perhaps because of the downbeat, contemplative mood, it’s really beautiful and in sharp contrast to the usual party tone of other Christmas classics.
The Worst:
Guys ‘n’ Dolls – There’s a Whole Lot of Loving This sounds like it belongs on an advert for biscuits. And that’s exactly what it was. Recorded by session singers including Edison Lighthouse‘s Tony Burrows, this was used as a jingle for McVities. Such was its popularity, the group Guys ‘n’ Dolls were quickly formed to record a new version. However, they didn’t get their voices on this single as they weren’t assembled in time, so Burrows and co’s voices remain. There’s not a lot else to it other than the resemblance to Brotherhood of Man.
1976
Hmm, so this is interesting. The number 1s of 1976 were one of the worst years of the 70s, all in all. The standard of the runners-up is higher. In fact, there isn’t a truly awful track. Sailor are best known for Girls, Girls, Girls, but A Glass of Champagne did better at the time, and it’s not bad at all – albeit, a little bit too much of a Roxy Music pastiche. There were some weird phenomenons in the 70s, one of which was the CB radio craze which resulted in the novelty hit Convoy, credited to CW McCall (alias of Bill Fries). It’s, like all great novelty tracks, very catchy, and McCall’s voice was perfect for the part. Love Really Hurts Without You was Billy Ocean’s first of many hits. He’d do better, but it’s a well-remembered slice of soul, sounding very Motown. More soul follows courtesy of Barry White’s You See the Trouble with Me, co-written by Ray Parker Jr (Ghostbusters). It’s alright, but is sorely lacking the sex you’d expect from the Walrus of Love. I certainly haven’t had enough of Silly Love Songs – it’s one of my favourite Wings tracks. It’s a close runner-up for best of the year and is the cheeriest ‘Fuck you’ to Macca’s critics you’ll ever here. Love the harmonies in the breakdown near the end. A Little Bit More is one of Dr Hook’s (as they were known by then) best-known songs and I prefer it to Sylvia’s Mother, but those lyrics can’t help but sound a bit, well, rapey. Paul McCartney had a very good 1976 as Wings are back again with Let ‘Em In. I really like this tune, but unfortunately, it shows the problem with McCartney at times without John Lennon to bounce off. You’ve got this cool, moody music, set to lyrics about friends and family… just… knocking on his door, or ringing the bell. Shame. One of my favourite Rod Stewart songs is The Killing of Georgie (Part I and II) so it’s great to be reminded of that. Far removed from some of his more laddish tendencies, this is Stewart being sadly inspired by the killing of a friend of his band Faces. It’s a beautiful tune and a subject matter realty with sensitively. Or at least, Part I is. Part II is OK, but it’s a complete rip-off of The Beatles’ Don’t Let Me Down. The Real Thing are only really remembered for their great chart-topper You to Me Are Everything, but Can’t Get By Without You is also a good stab of disco, soul and funk. It must have surely inspired the theme to US 80s cop drama Hill Street Blues, which is what I thought it was when it came on. You Make Me Feel Like Dancing is one of Leo Sayer’s better tracks – he’s well-suited to this bright and breezy disco tune. Queen very nearly made it two Christmas number 1s in a row, and Somebody to Love has similarities to Bohemian Rhapsody. But it’s not as inventive. Nonetheless, it’s one of their most famous songs and a real rock anthem.
The Best:
Candi Staton – Young Hearts Run Free
Over lunch one day, Candi Staton’s producer David Crawford apparently asked the soul singer what was going on in her life and she told him about the abusive relationship she was struggling to find a way out of. Crawford took notes and promised her he’d write a song that would last forever. He achieved that with Young Hearts Run Free, which to me is the very definition of ‘bittersweet’. Set to a lovely upbeat disco backing, Staton isn’t jealous of the young people she sees in love, she just hopes they don’t end up like her. Many of the millions who’ve danced to this over the years may not have noticed how bleak the lyrics often are, which makes the beauty of the melody that much more effective. One of the best disco songs of the decade.
TheWorst:
Demis Roussos – When Forever Has Gone
The Greek singer-songwriter was very big in 1976. OK, he was very big in general, but Excerpts from ‘The Roussos Phenomenon’(EP), a spin-off from a hit BBC documentary, was the first EP to top the charts. This was the follow-up, but it’s not as good as the title track to that, Forever and Ever. It’s a bit sickly. Not by any means diabolical, but as I said, 1976 was a good year for number 2s.
1977
Disco is easily the most popular genre in a very strong year, full of great soul tracks that lit up the dancefloor. One of the best kicks things off. Heatwave’s Boogie Nights, written by Rod Temperton, has an amazing jazz-funk intro and outro, which opens out into a cool groove. David Soul’s Going in With My Eyes Open came between his two number 1s that year. It’s a rather bog standard ballad and the worst of the three tracks. Red Light Spells Danger by Billy Ocean is better than his last entry here. It has a great moody bassline and weird vocal effect to ramp up the tension. Then it’s the magnificent Stevie Wonder at the peak of his powers with his tribute to musical greats, in particular Sir Duke Ellington. Very nearly my pick for 1977. Southern soul singer Joe Tex’s biggest hit was Ain’t Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman) and rightly so. The bass is excellent here and I love the groove in the extended outro. Greg Lake’s back with Keith Emerson and Carl Palmer this time. Their version of Aaron Copland’s Fanfare for the Common Man is a surprisingly punchy piece of prog rock, and is easy to enjoy. Lo and behold, here’s a Boney M track I don’t mind. If I ignore the cheesy interjections, Ma Baker is a nice disco tune and once again, a large part of that is down to the bass. Showaddywaddy return, once again with their feet firmly in the past, this time with a cover of Marv Johnson’s You Got What It Takes. Mediocre. Back to the disco next with the excellent Magic Fly. This one-hit wonder for the French band in spacesuits was highly influential, on fellow countrymen Air and Daft Punk, to name just a couple. Highly recommended. Black is Black had been a number 2 for Los Bravos in 1966 and here it is, revamped for the dancefloor by French vocal trio La Belle Epoque. It works well, with rhythmic strings and an usual echo on the vocals. Queen serve up another rock anthem at the end of the year. We Are the Champions is understandably one of their most famous tunes, and though some find it on the smug side, there’s no denying its mass appeal. A team of scientists declared it the catchiest pop song of all time in 2011.
The Best:
Sex Pistols – God Save the Queen
Here’s a timely tune. Created for the Silver Jubilee, the highest charting punk song of all time is being rereleased for the Platinum Jubilee. Sadly, its scabrous lyrics are more relevant than ever, as Johnny Rotten sings ‘And there’s no future/In England’s dreaming’. Words that could very easily be aimed at the horrendous, post-Brexit government led by our worst Prime Minister of all time, Boris Johnson. There’s enough proof out there to suggest that God Save the Queen was actually number 1 in the week of the Jubilee, but the establishment and music industry got together to ensure Rod Stewart was at pole position to save face. I prefer disco to punk nearly always, but this is an important moment in music that shouldn’t be forgotten and shook up pop culture forever.
The Worst:
Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band – The Floral Dance
As weird 70s novelty hits go, this is a doozy. An instrumental track that had lyrics when originally recorded in 1911, this version was rearranged by a West Yorkshire brass band and shot up the charts at Christmas. Why, I’ve no idea. If anyone could tell me, please do. Such was its popularity, Radio One DJ legend Terry Wogan recorded a version soon after. Though less successful at the time, it’s the better known of the two now.
1978
After such a good year, 1978 is a big disappointment. It’s nearly exclusively 50s and 60s throwbacks, which I’m not too keen on and it’s also the year of Grease, which I actually love. I know, this is confusing… Doo-wop revival nine-piece Darts are first up with Come Back My Love, originally from 1955. It left little impression on me. New wave makes its debut here as Blondie scored their first hit with Denis. It may be a surprise that despite how great the New Yorkers undoubtedly are, I’m not that keen on this. Could be because it’s a cover of a 1963 doo-wop song, originally called Denise. Sadly it’s the only new wave tune to make it to number 2. Darts again with The Boy from New York City, which was originally from 1964. This is actually OK – possibly because it’s by renowned hitmakers Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller. Then it’s, er, The Smurf Song by Father Abraham. Originally only 1,000 copies of this promo for the Belgian children’s characters were made. It somehow became huge because, er, it was the 70s. I loved the 80s animated series as a child, but this is just weird. Best of the bunch so far is a song I don’t think I’d ever heard before. Substitute had been a Righteous Brothers song three years previous but this version was by South African all-girl rockers Clout. It’s got a great chorus, really infectious. Darts are back for a third time and we’re in the doldrums again. Unlike their previous hits, It’s Raining was an original. However, it’s still retro and poor too. I like Rose Royce’s disco-soul ballad Love Don’t Live Here Anymore, mainly due to the early use of the LinnDrum. It’s followed by Boney M and again, not a bad one by their standards. Rasputin is probably their best song. Songs from the Grease soundtrack were everywhere that year, with You’re the One That I Wantand Summer Nights enjoying 16 weeks in total in the top spot. Sandy was kept from the top spot by the latter. This John Travolta solo song was written specifically from the movie and it’s pretty fun, especially his naff way of singing ‘why-aye-aye-oh-why’.
The Best:
Olivia Newton-John – Hopelessly Devoted to You
OK, this is a surprise I guess. Like I said, not a fan in general of 50s/60s rock’n’roll tributes, or musicals in fact. But seeing Grease at a young age left its mark and you can’t deny the power of nostalgia. This Olivia Newton-John vehicle was another that didn’t feature in the original musical. It was written by Shadows member John Farrar and was a last-minute addition for the film. There are a few better songs technically in this section (although not that many, poor year in general), but it’s fun to belt out, so it wins, OK?
The Worst:
Showaddywaddy – I Wonder Why
The Leicester retro rock’n’roll act’s cover of a Dion and the Belmonts 1958 hit is lazy, it’s not a great song anyway and I’ve definitely had my fill of this genre now.
1979
As with the number 1s, 1979 is a strong year for runner-ups, thanks largely to new wave. One of the most famous bands of the decade brings things down at either end of the year though, surprisingly. But we’ve a disco belter in the Village People’s In the Navy. I think I may actually prefer this to Y.M.C.A. London new wave outfit Squeeze have a strong showing with their two biggest hits. Cool for Cats, at number 2 the day I was born, is my favourite of the two with its excellent disco groove and cockney vocals from Chris Difford. He should sing more often. Also love the synth breakdown from Jools Holland. Some Girls by Racey is infectious, even if it is a bit naff. Chinnichap’s mark is all over it, but it seems a bit old-fashioned and naff for 1979. Nonetheless, I have a soft spot for it. One of my favourites of the year is the ironic one-hit wonder Pop Muzik by M, aka singer/musician Robin Scott, who reminds me of Bryan Ferry. Which is also ironic as he’s followed by Roxy Music with the classy, melancholic Dance Away. Squeeze returned with the nicely acerbic working-class humour of Up the Junction. Then there’s a gear change with the wonderful lovers rock classic Silly Games by Dennis Bovell. I’ve loved this track since it took centre stage in Steve McQueen’s Lovers Rock and that vocal by Janet Kay is amazing. More reggae to follow, but Can’t Stand Losing You isn’t one of The Police’s better tracks if you ask me. I prefer their number 1s that year – Message in a Bottle and especially Walking on the Moon. Not sure what to make of BA Robertson’s Bang Bang. It doesn’t feel like authentic new wave but it is a quite good facsimile, I guess. Blondie return with Dreaming, one of their less famous hits but one I enjoyed as the theme to the final series of The Deuce. Runner-up for track of the year is Queen’s effortless Elvis tribute Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Apparently Mercury had it down in five minutes. The final number 2 of the decade was ABBA’s naff ballad I Have a Dream. It’s one of their most famous tracks but this is the side of ABBA that turns me off – that Europop anthem sound leaves me cold. How horrible that Westlife’s cover of this was the final number 1 of the 20th century.
The Best:
Elvis Costello and The Attractions – Oliver’s Army
My favourite track by new wave firebrand Elvis Costello, Oliver’s Army is probably the world’s only glossy pop track about The Troubles. The addition of piano flourishes to remind the public of ABBA’s classic Dancing Queen adds to the brilliance of this tune, inspired by seeing young British soldiers patrolling the streets of Belfast. Costello notes here how, wherever the war (and others are certainly noted), ‘they always get a working class boy to do the killing’. Oliver’s Army has been controversial of late, much like Brown Sugar, due to the lyric ‘Only takes one itchy trigger/One more widow, one less white nigger’. Despite somehow passing censorship on the radio for more than 30 years, in 2013 BBC 6 Music began removing the phrase. This caused controversy, with fans of the song noting its anti-war message. ‘White nigger’ was a slur used against Irish Catholics and Costello’s grandfather was called it while serving the British Army. In 2020 Costello pointed out that censorship only served to highlight the phrase and so he announced he would no longer perform the song and asked radio stations to not play it. I can see both sides of this and it’s hard to know what’s best. Nonetheless, it’s a great song.
ABBA –Chiquitita
ABBA. Infuriating. Dancing Queen is one of the finest number 1s of the 70s and the had an amazing hitrate. But they also came out with some crap. I Had a Dream I’ve already noted, but they opened 1979 with this pap, inspired by the far superior Simon and Garfunkel track El Condor Pasa (If I Could).
The Best 70s Number 2 Ever is…
Sex Pistols – God Save the Queen
It’s a common belief that punk changed the landscape of pop music, putting an end to staid MOR and prog rock. While this has been exaggerated somewhat (it amuses me to discover that ELP overtook the Sex Pistols at number 2 after the Silver Jubilee), hearing this in the context of the biggest hits of the decade really does hammer home how scary and exciting this must have sounded in 1977. Yes, punk didn’t set the charts alight too much after this, but its influence is soon seen in all the new wave that came in its wake and set the scene for the 80s. And as i’ve already pointed out, the message of this song is sadly more relevant than ever. As the Platium Jubilee begins, the UK has never been more divided. What a shame there’s no equivalent to punk and the Pistols in 2022. A Disney+ biopic doesn’t count.
The Worst 70s Number 2 Ever is…
Gary Glitter – Oh Yes! You’re Beautiful
There may have been worse songs in the 70s, but no other artist sickens in the way Gary Glitter does. And this time there’s little you can say that’s positive about the song either. Glam at its most mundane – in slave to the 50s, with a lyric that can’t sound anything but sickening in 2022. A symbol of everything that was wrong with the 70s. Lazy… derivative… tasteless… fake… played by Jimmy Savile on the radio, no doubt. Rotten to the core.
The Outro
As usual, my journey through the number 2s of the 70s often mirrored the chart-toppers. We’ve rock holding centre stage at the start, with a fascinating mix of classics. Then glam becomes the biggest scene and it’s exciting at first, before running out of steam a few years later. However, things get interesting in 1976, because for the first time that I can remember, the number 2s are of a higher standard in general than the number 1s. And 1977 is a hell of a year, full of disco classics and lesser-known soul and funk tunes for the dancefloor. Boney M, whose chart-toppers I dissed, come out of this better. 1978, the year in which the biggest selling songs of the year started to get more interesting thanks to new wave, instead fares badly here, thanks to the seemingly never-ending array of 50s revival acts. Thankfully, we go out with a bang once more with 1979. In general, the standard of the 70s number 2s is interesting, but not as high as the 60s.
Right, that’s it for this blog for the foreseeable. I’ll be back to announce the release date of the next book eventually. Wish me luck!
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.
2016: I saw tweets claiming David Bowie had died before I set off for work, and so I checked his official site and there was nothing. Relieved, I set off for Hull, but I had a nagging feeling this could turn out to be true, and so I turned off Morrissey on the stereo and switched to Radio 1, where I heard David Cameron of all people paying tribute as the final notes of Life on Mars? rang out. I couldn’t believe it. Perhaps the greatest solo pop star of all time was dead. In 2020, I’m still not over it. I immediately listened to my favourite Bowie tracks, and Space Oddity was the first.
2000: I was at uni sat on my bed. I was a mess at the time, but it was nearly the summer, and as usual I had a ticket for Glastonbury in a month or so. David Bowie was headlining, and although I knew how important he was, I’d never been that into him. I decided I needed to reacquaint myself, and so I put a cassette of Changesbowie on, and from the first few seconds that faded in slowly, I was gripped, hooked and obsessed. The song was, of course, Space Oddity, the song that rightly or wrongly is considered the start of his career. I missed his Glastonbury set due to a stay in hospital, and I never got the chance to see him perform.
1975: David Bowie has put behind the glam rock that made him so famous, and his last album was a fine collection of soul tunes called Young Americans. He is about to reach his most inspired, creative era, but he is not well. Emaciated and heavily into cocaine, he was just finishing his next album Station to Station, which he later claimed he had no recollection of making. It was one of his greatest pieces of work. His record label RCA reissued Space Oddity as a maxi-single, part of a series of occasional re-releases bringing attention to some of his best-known songs. Six years after its first release, it became Bowie’s first number 1 single and is his best-selling single of all time.
1969: David Bowie, after several false starts, including an album released the same day as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band that sank, has finally made it to the singles chart thanks to Space Oddity. With a timely release to coincide with the Apollo 11 mission to the moon, Bowie appears on Top of the Pops for the first time. But can he prove he’s not just a novelty, a one-hit wonder?
It took a few years, but yes, I think I it’s safe to say he did. At the time of his death he had sold over 12 million singles in the UK alone. Two years later it was reported he had sold a further five million. If he had only had Space Oddity and the Ziggy Stardust years, he’d still be remembered fondly, but there is so much more. You could write a whole series of books on this chameleon, this genius, this effortlessly cool, witty… I don’t have enough superlatives.
Before
So it seems unreal to think he was originally just David Robert Jones, born 8 January 1947 in Brixton, London. His father Haywood was a promotions officer for Barnardo’s from Doncaster in Yorkshire and his mother Margaret was born at Shorncliffe Army Camp in Kent. He was known as a gifted child, and a bit of a brawler. Between 1953 and 1955 the Jones’s lived in several places before settling in Sundridge Park. Aged nine, his interpretations in music and movement classes were considered ‘vivdly artistic’. It was at this age that his father introduced him to rock’n’roll via songs by Elvis Presley, the Teenagers and Little Richard.
By the end of 1956, young Jones would enjoy skiffle sessions with friends, where he could be found playing the ukelele and tea-chest bass, and was also learning the piano. He would wow audiences by copying the gyrations of heroes like Elvis. After passing his eleven -plus he went to Bromley Technical High School, where he studied art, music and design, and thanks to his older half-brother Terry Burns he got into jazz, which led to his mother buying him a saxophone in 1961.
In 1962, aged 15, Jones formed his first band, The Konrads, who would play local events such as weddings. In the band was his friend George Underwood, who that year punched Jones in a fight over a girl and gave him the famous discoloration in his left eye that added to his alien appearance. Despite four months in hospital, they remained friends.
Jones left The Konrads in 1963 and released his first single, Liza Jane, credited to Davie Jones with the King Bees, in 1964. Making no impact, he jumped ship to The Manish Boys. I Pity the Fool did just as badly in 1965, and then came two singles with blues trio The Lower Third. He was credited as ‘Davy Jones’ on the first, You’ve Got a Habit of Leaving, but on Can’t Help Thinking About Me in 1966, he had become ‘David Bowie’, after James Bowie, the inventor of the knife he gave his surname to. And that ended any confusion with the much more famous Davy Jones of The Monkees.
But all this jumping around record labels with very typical mid-60s R’n’B groups (and there was one more, The Buzz) was getting Bowie nowhere. Later that year, he signed with Deram, and so began his psychedelic/Anthony Newley phase with the single Rubber Band. This period, which also included, of course, novelty single The Laughing Gnome and Love You Till Tuesday, was disowned by Bowie for decades, which is a shame as I like all three songs, and others from that eponymous debut. They’re a fascinating showcase of a nascent talent.
Bowie then moved into the dramatic arts, particularly mime, with the help of teacher Lindsay Kemp. It was here that he first became really interested with the idea of characters and assuming identities, which would be a large part of the rest of his career. Although music had taken a back seat, in 1968 he formed Feathers, a trio with girlfriend Hermione Farthingale and John Hutchinson, and they would perform a very late-60s mix of poetry, folk and mime. It was short-lived, as Bowie and Farthingale split-up in early 1969. And it was around that time that Space Oddity was penned.
Unsurprisingly, Space Oddity was inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s classic 2001: A Space Odyssey. Released in the spring of 1968, Bowie watched it while stoned several times and was very interested in the idea of a space mission going wrong, particularly watching an astronaut floating off in silence among the stars, and with the Apollo 11 mission around the corner, he set to work.
The earliest unearthed recording of Space Oddity is a simple demo recorded by Bowie on his 12-string in his flat in late-1968 or early-1969. He and Hutchinson then recorded another primitive version soon afterwards, with Hutchinson in the ‘Ground Control’ role. Then, in February, the first studio take was made to be used in Love You Till Tuesday, a promo film thought up by his manager Kenneth Pitt to try and reignite record label interest. Hutchinson was Ground Control again, and among the line-up was Dave Clague, one-time bassist in The Bonzo Dog Band. All versions of this song are worth hearing, and this studio version in particular, to note its development. This version definitely sounds more like a novelty song than the finished product. It’s too camp and lacking the haunting quality that makes it so great.
In June 1969, Pitt negotiated a one-album deal with Mercury Records on the strength of Bowie and Hutchinson’s demos. Tony Visconti, who produced Bowie’s friend Marc Bolan, was assigned Bowie, and he liked what he heard… apart from Space Oddity, which he considered a cheap cash-in on the moon landing. He assigned production to Gus Dudgeon instead, and the majority was recorded at Trident Studios on 20 June 1969.
With Hutchinson gone, Bowie sang all the vocals, but he did sound rather like him in the Ground Control lines at the start. He also played 12-string acoustic guitar and that charming analog keyboard operated by a stylus, the Stylophone. In-house session player Rick Wakeman, later of Yes, was on the Mellotron, with Mick Wayne of Junior’s Eyes on guitar, Blue Mink’s Herbie Flowers on bass and Pentange’s drummer Terry Cox, plus assorted musicians on orchestral accompaniment. Bowie and Dudgeon encouraged improvisation from the musicians.
Review
Space Oddity long since transcended being remotely considered a novelty, and that’s thanks to Bowie, then 22, already showing an existential insight into the human condition, covering alienation and emptiness, all wrapped up in one of his other favourite recurring subjects – space. I don’t feel enough credit is given to Dudgeon here. Visconti is rightly considered Bowie’s top producer but he made a big mistake handing over the reins here. Dudgeon makes a brilliant job of giving Space Oddity it’s haunting atmosphere. The slow fade-in (shorter on the original UK mono single) really does capture the feel of tension as Major Tom prepares for his mission. The ‘This is Ground Control to Major Tom’ section sounds triumphant, all is well and Major Tom is in the news. And then my favourite verse:
‘For here Am I sitting in a tin can Far above the world Planet Earth is blue And there’s nothing I can do’
Here, Bowie sounds both serene and unsettled, resigned to his/mankind’s fate, that, far from being superhuman, he is just one man, in space, and his mission will actually achieve little. Is the Earth ‘blue’ because of humans? It’s a line as deep as the oceans Major Tom is staring at. The instrumental section is beautiful, with the Stylophone and Mellotron sounding charmingly primitive and futuristic at the same time. Banish all thoughts of Rolf Harris on the former instrument, and imagine it was just Bowie’s adverts for the Stylophone and this song that inspired 90s acts like Pulp and Orbital to use it too.
And then the mission goes awry. Major Tom is either resigned to his fate or has had a breakdown and sabotaged his craft himself when he says ‘I think my spaceship knows which way to go’. I love the way Ground Control’s repeated ‘hear’ to Major Tom merges into the doomed astronaut ‘here’ in his ‘tin can’. In the vastness of space, Major Tom doesn’t feel like a hero. He’s just a man in a tin can. And who knows where he’s going next? The stereo mix captures the uncertainty perfectly – you feel you are in that tin can, bumping from side to side as the effects are panning, hinting at the psychedelia of the Star Gate sequence of 2001: A Space Oddity.
And then on a different level, Space Oddity is just a nice little tune to get stoned to, with the space travel metaphor relating to getting out of your head, and, as Bowie fan Jarvis Cocker later asked, ‘What if you never come down?’. So, with Apollo 11 taking place in July upon its release, Bowie hoped to appeal to the counterculture as well as the wider public fascinated in man on the moon, plus your average pop fan (the strum followed by two simple handclaps is a hell of a hook).
After
But upon its release, it looked as though Space Oddity would be another failure. Apparently the BBC refused to play it until Apollo 11 was returning home safe and by then it was slipping down the chart. Until the new marketing director for Philips, part of Mercury, set his entire staff to work selling it in September, due to lack of anything else to market. It worked, and Space Oddity peaked at five in November, the same month his second album, David Bowie was released. When Bowie signed with RCA, they wisely renamed the LP Space Oddity to avoid confusion with his 1967 album. It’s an uneven collection, and the ‘title’ track is certainly the best bit, but Memory of a Free Festival is also a highlight. He ended the year singing a an Italian version of Space Oddity, with new lyrics by Mogol, called Ragazza Solo, Ragazza Sola (Lonely Boy, Lonely Girl).
Bowie made sure he couldn’t be pigeonholed, and as we all know, every album that followed was different from the last. But The Man Who Sold the World (1970) and Hunky Dory (1971) spawned no charting singles. It’s understandable with the former, it being a heavy, unusual collection, but the latter had Changes and Life on Mars? (which did at least reach number three when re-released in 1973). At best, Bowie at this point could hope to become some kind of cult figure.
All that changed when he and his band became Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and appeared on Top of the Pops in 1972 to promote Starman. Bowie had finally pulled it off. He rode the glam rock wave bolder and brighter than most of his contemporaries. The Jean Genie almost became Christmas number 1 that year, and then Space Oddity was reissued in the US and went to 15. To promote the reissue, Mick Rock made a film in which Bowie, in full Ziggy regalia, mimed along as if sat in his spaceship. Space Oddity fitted the Ziggy era perfectly, but Bowie later said he had moved on and couldn’t understand why he was still promoting it. In live shows over the next few years he would still perform it, but it would be reworked.
For several years most Bowie singles entered the upper reaches of the top 10, including Drive-In Saturday (three in 1972), Sorrow (three in 1973) and Rebel Rebel (five in 1974). Even an unofficial reissue of The Laughing Gnome went to six!
It’s interesting to note that Rebel Rebel was the last to reach the top five for nearly two years, as it was in effect his farewell to glam. Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars were retired in the summer of 1973 and in 1974 he moved to the US. After Diamond Dogs, where elements of funk crept in, he paid tribute in full to the US soul and funk of the era, resulting in Young Americans. The UK would still buy Bowie in droves, whatever his current sound, but they did prefer the glam era. But Fame, his collaboration with John Lennon, became his first US chart-topper.
Which takes us to the maxi-single that brought Bowie his first UK number 1, six years after it was first released. Why 1975 and not 1969? It’s a strange one. Clearly Bowie was still a huge star in the mid-70s, but how many people needed to buy a song that missed out first time around? Perhaps the temptation of getting their hands on Velvet Goldmine for the first time interested his fans (something Bowie wasn’t happy about – he said it hadn’t even been mixed properly). Perhaps it was just right place, right time. The mid-70s were a strange and often bleak time for pop singles. Glam was over, disco hadn’t fully blossomed and albums were where the serious music buyer’s taste lay. Whatever the reason, it was fully deserving.
The Outro
1979: Bowie had a change of heart. He decided to revisit Major Tom, but on his own terms with a sparse, desolate remake of Space Oddity, a decade on. His next number 1, a proper sequel, was right around the corner.
The Info
Written by
David Bowie
Producer
Gus Dudgeon
Weeks at number 1
2 (8-21 November)
Trivia
Births
12 November: Rower Katherine Grainger 18 November: Presenter Anthony McPartlin
Meanwhile…
16 November: British and Icelandic ships clash once more, marking the beginning of the third Cod War.
Gary Glitter wasn’t the only 60s has-been to become a glam icon in the 70s. Thanks to a singer-songwriter called Peter Shelley (not the Buzzcocks singer), minor pop star Shane Fenton assumed the mantle of Alvin Stardust. Among the hits that followed was this sole number 1.
Before
Fenton was originally Bernard William Jewry, born 27 September 1942 in Muswell Hill, Middlesex. The Jewrys moved to Mansfield in Nottinghamshire when he was still young, and his mother ran a boarding house often used by singers and entertainers. He made his stage debut in a pantomime at the age of four. As a boarder at Southwell Minster Collegiate grammar school he fell in love with blues, jazz and rock’n’roll, listening to the American Forces Network and Radio Luxembourg.
Jewry got to know a local band called Johnny Theakstone and the Tremeloes, and he helped them carry their equipment. However, Theakstone died suddenly as a result of a childhood illness that had weakened his heart. The group split up, but a former member was later contacted by the BBC’s Saturday Club radio show. Theakstone had sent in an audition tape, calling himself Shane Fenton. Theakstone’s mother gave the band her blessing to reform and give it a go, and Jewry was asked to join the band as Fenton. Shane Fenton and the Fentones went down well and signed to Parlophone in 1961. Several minor hits followed, most notably Cindy’s Birthday in 1962. Jewry even featured in the Billy Fury vehicle Play It Cool that year, but soon after, the group split.
Jewry spent his years out of the spotlight in music management, and performed at small venues alongside his first wife Iris Caldwell (sister of Rory Storm). In the meantime, Shelley had worked his way into the music industry in the mid-60s, working under EMI producer Norman Newell. He became a talent scout for Decca Records, discovering number 1 artists Amen Corner, among others. In 1973 he co-founded Magnet Records with Michael Levy, and the first release on the label was My Coo Ca Choo, written, produced and performed by Shelley under the alias Alvin Stardust. Not the most original moniker considering David Bowie was still using Ziggy Stardust as a name in 1973. But then, Shelley wasn’t expecting a hit when he appeared on children’s TV show Lift Off with Ayshea under that name.
My Coo Ca Choo, stormed the charts, leaving Shelley with a conundrum as he had no desire to continue performing, but didn’t want to be a one-hit wonder either. Jewry’s manager suggested him and for the second time, he stepped into an alias, only this time he was more successful.
Bowie said that Ziggy was based on 50s rock’n’roller Vince Taylor, and Jewry’s look as Alvin Stardust was an even more overt tribute, with his huge quiff, sideburns and black leather outfit. And the black gloves topped things off nicely, creating a pretty menacing figure. The new Stardust’s first appearance on Top of the Pops, miming to My Coo Ca Choo, caused quite a stir, actually scaring some children at the time, and I have to confess I found it a little unnerving in my teens when I first saw him via a UK Gold repeat. That might sound ridiculous now, but seeing a lone figure hovering in front of some lights, stood stock still and staring down the lens, holding the mic in an unusual way, looked quite menacing. It did the job anyway, and Stardust’s debut went to number two.
Review
Unfortunately, despite second single Jealous Mind getting the all-important top spot, it’s not half as memorable as My Coo Ca Choo and is barely remembered these days. I’d guess that Shelley quickly knocked this off to capitalise on the momentum, in the hope that more of the same would suffice, which it did, but only for a week in 1974.
It’s very similar, plundering that same 50s greaseball-meets-Norman Greenbaum guitar sound, but it’s rather lacklustre. Stardust does a decent job of sounding like Shelley on the chorus (and Buddy Holly with the vocal tics) but sounds different on the verses, making it uneven. But not half as uneven as the guitar track, which is all over the place! I’m not sure if it’s Shelley performing it, but I kind of admire the fact it’s doing its own thing in a way. It’s not enough to save the track though. Which is a shame, as I’ve a soft spot for Stardust.
After
His hits continued for a while, particularly throughout 1974 with Red Dress and You You You in the top 10, but Good Love Can Never Die (1975) was his last top 20 hit for six years.
Stardust had come along at the tail end of glam, and wasn’t able to adapt quick enough. He did however feature in a famous public information film for the Green Cross Code campaign ‘Children’s Heroes’ in 1976. Stardust’s is the most memorable, due to him pointing menacingly at the naughty children with his one black glove, and incredulously exclaiming ‘you must be out of your tiny minds!’. Watch here, and enjoy.
Stardust had a successful comeback in 1981 with a cover of Pretend, previously a number two hit for Nat ‘King’ Cole in 1953. It was Stardust’s first release on hip indie label Stiff Records, and I can still remember the sleeve for this peering out of my big brother’s record box. The rest of his Stiff releases did indeed stiff, but he was back in the top 10 via Chrysalis with I Feel Like Buddy Holly and I Won’t Run Away in 1984. He attempted to enter Eurovision in 1985 but came third in A Song For Europe with The Clock on the Wall.
It was around this time Stardust moved into the acting game, with a lead role in the Lloyd Webber–Rice musical Cricket in 1986. Other similar roles came in Godspell, David Copperfield – The Musical and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. In 1989 he presented his very own Sunday morning children’s series on ITV, It’s Stardust. In 1995, Stardust had a regular role in Channel 4 soap opera Hollyoaks. His second marriage, to actress Liza Goddard, came to an end after he converted to Christianity, and he remarried again, with actress Julie Paton. Adam, a son from his first marriage, became drum’n’bass DJ Adam F in the 90s.
The Outro
In 2010, Stardust released I Love Rock’n’Roll, an album featuring new recordings of his old hits. Four years later he was weeks away from releasing a brand new album, Alvin, when he died on 23 October from prostate cancer, aged 72.
The Info
Written & produced by
Peter Shelley
Weeks at number 1
1 (9-15 March)
Meanwhile…
10 March: 10 miners are killed in a methane gas explosion at Golborne Colliery near Wigan, Lancashire.
11 March: Convicted armed robbers Kenneth Littlejohn and brother Keith, who claim to be British spies in the Republic of Ireland, escape from Dublin’s Mountjoy Prison.
15 March: Architect John Poulson, embroiled in a major political bribery scandal in 1972, is jailed for five years for corruption.
We’re now in 1973, one of the peak years for glam rock, and one of the biggest bands of the era were London quartet The Sweet, who combined a nascent metal sound with the sugary pop stylings of hitmakers Chapman and Chinn. After several dire, strange number 1s in the latter half of 1972, they get the year off to a brilliant start with their classic, Block Buster !.
Before
The Sweet’s origins lie in 60s London soul band Wainwright’s Gentlemen. Originally formed as Unit 4 in 1962, the line-up changed several times, and included from 1964 to 1965, future Deep Purple frontman Ian Gillan. Around the time Gillan joined, Mick Tucker from Ruislip became their drummer. In 1966, a Scotsman named Brian Connolly became their singer.
By January 1968 the band split, and Connolly and Tucker opted to form a new group. Hiring Steve Priest, a bass player from Hayes, Middlesex (who had previously worked with Joe Meek) and former Wainwright’s Gentlemen guitarist Frank Torpey, they called themselves The Sweetshop. They gained a following on the pub circuit and soon signed to Fontana Records, but upon hearing there was another band with the same name, they shortened theirs to The Sweet. Debut single Slow Motion was a failure, Fontana quickly washed their hands of the band, and so did Torpey. Mick Stewart, who had worked with Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, took his place in 1969.
The Sweet signed with EMI’s Parlophone and released three further singles, which also failed, so Stewart left. Around this time the remaining trio were put in touch with songwriting duo Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn. Australian Chapman was working as a waiter when he first met struggling songwriter Chinn in 1970. They were looking for an outlet for bubblegum pop songs they’d worked on, and with session musicians performing, The Sweet recorded vocals for a track called Funny Funny. They auditioned for a new guitarist, hiring Welsh-born Andy Scott, who had worked with The Scaffold. The classic line-up had arrived, and they signed with Chapman and Chinn to RCA Records.
Funny Funny became a hit, climbing to number 13 in 1971, quickly followed by Co-Co, which did even better, stalling at number two behind Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep that July. An LP was quickly cobbled together – the unimaginatively titled Funny How Sweet Co-Co Can Be, released that November.
1972 saw further hits for The Sweet, including the seedy but infectious Little Willy and follow-up Wig-Wam Bam, which was still a staple in family holiday resorts in the early- to-mid 80s. The latter was also the first single to feature the band playing their own actual instruments, and it’s no coincidence the sound was a little heavier as a result. With both these songs reaching number four, the top spot was within reach.
Review
With those sirens blaring, backing vocals wailing and an incredibly catchy Bo Diddley-style riff, Block Buster ! remains one of the great glam number 1s. Of course, no coverage of this song would be complete without mentioning the similarity to David Bowie’s The Jean Genie, in the charts at the same time and just missing out on the 1972 Christmas number 1 spot. Both acts always maintained that this was nothing more than an incredible coincidence. Chinn later recalled meeting Bowie, who stared at him deadpan and called him a cunt, before bursting into laughter and embracing him.
So, which is best? It’s incredibly close to call. The Jean Genie‘s surreal lyrics are smarter and edgier – Block Buster !‘s wordplay revolves around the nefarious sex pest Buster, who, well, needs to be blocked, because he’ll ‘come from behind’ and steal your woman out from under your nose’, especially if she has long dark hair. Over the years, the wordplay has been largely forgotten and it’s more commonly known as Blockbuster now, and used on countless TV shows, adverts, films etc to put across, well, blockbusters!
Where Block Buster ! does win out though is in it’s polished production with effects to keep you interested, and special mention must go to the late Steve Priest, the recently deceased bassist, responsible for the camp interjection ‘We just haven’t got a clue what to do!’. I’ll never tire of that, in particular the footage of the band on the Christmas special of Top of the Pops, in which Priest is dressed as a Nazi, who looks to have his arse pinched by Scott. This caused many complaints at the time and would probably be even less popular now. I’m going to go with a preference for The Jean Genie though, just because, David Bowie.
After
The Sweet were one of the hottest acts of that year and into 1974, with Hell Raiser, The Ballroom Blitz and Teenage Rampage all reaching number two. The second of those in particular is another classic, and almost as good as their sole chart-topper.
By the time of Teenage Rampage, the band were calling themselves simply, Sweet. Change was in the air, as despite all they had done for them, the group were tiring of Chapman and Chinn’s control. They ditched the outlandish outfits and decided to record an album (mostly) without them, appropriately titled Sweet Fanny Adams, which showcased a harder sound. During the sessions, Connolly injured his throat in a fight, and apparently his voice was never the same again.
Next LP, Desolation Boulevard, followed six months later, and Sweet proved they could cope fine on their own with self-penned hit single Fox on the Run. They couldn’t maintain the success though, and despite moving on from glam, which was dying out by the mid-70s, their career suffered too, and The Lies In Your Eyes, the first single from self-produced 1976 album Give Us a Wink was their last chart action for two years.
By the time Sweet made their comeback, they had switched to Polydor and began experimenting with classical and the new disco style. Sounds potentially awful, yet Love Is Like Oxygen, released in January 1978, is actually pretty good. It would be their last hit. Connolly’s drinking was getting out of hand, and he became increasingly estranged from the rest of the band during support slots for Bob Seeger and the Silver Bullet Band and Alice Cooper. By the time 1979 album Cut Above the Rest was released in 1979, he had quit.
A three-piece Sweet (get it?) soldiered on, with Priest taking the lion’s share of vocal duties. They made one last album, Identity Crisis, but it didn’t even get a UK release until 1982, the year after they had split.
The former bandmates spent much of the 80s forming their own new versions of Sweet and touring the nostalgia circuit. Connolly sparked fears for his health whenever he appeared publicly, and in 1997 he died of liver failure and repeated heart attacks, aged only 51. Mick Tucker died in 2002 of leukaemia, aged 54. Priest passed away in June 2020, aged 72, leaving only Scott from the classic line-up, who still tours with Andy Scott’s Sweet.
The Outro
With their outrageous dress sense, raucous riffs and high camp, The Sweet certainly helped to liven up the early-70s, and it’s great to have had a classic to review once more. Chinnichap’ were to be responsible for plenty more chart-toppers.
The Info
Written by
Nicky Chinn & Mike Chapman
Producer
Phil Wainman
Weeks at number 1
5 (27 January-2 March)
Trivia
Births
7 February:TV presenter Kate Thornton 8 February:Presenter Sonia Deol 27 February:Singer Peter Andre
Deaths
28 January:Cricketer Francis Romney 16 February: Cricketer Harold Gibbons 22 February:Novelist Elizabeth Bowen
Meanwhile…
27 February: Civil servants and rail workers went on strike.
1 March: Prog-rockers Pink Floyd released The Dark Side of the Moon, which went on to become one of the best-selling albums of all time.
What fresh hell is this? By installing nine-year-old Little Jimmy Osmond as Christmas number 1, the UK record-buying public’s collective nervous breakdown of 1972 was complete. The Osmonds were the biggest pop sensation of the year – but this was a step too far.
Before
James Arthur Osmond, born 16 April 1963, is the youngest member of the family, born in Canoga Park, California. His brothers were already TV stars as regulars on The Andy Williams Show at this point, and Jimmy was taught by tutors, his parents preparing him from a young age to follow them into the music industry.
Long Haired Lover from Liverpool was originally a single by Christoper Kingsley (credited on the Osmond version as Christopher Dowden for some reason) from 1969. I’m assuming the title is a reference to The Beatles, then still a going concern. It’s almost identical to the Osmond version, though as it’s sung by a grown man, it’s not as irritating. Examining the vinyl label suggests the backing singers on the original are the same as Osmond’s version, namely The Mike Curb Congregation. Curb, a film score and TV theme writer, had formed the group in the 60s to sing on his work. In 1969 he had merged his company with MGM Records, which soon became home to The Osmonds. He also co-produced this abomination.
The original version bombed, but Jimmy’s mother Olive heard it as it was distributed by MGM, and a horrible, terrible idea formed. It was a cute little tune… her boys had cornered the market in teenage girls… Christmas was around the corner, the boys were about to visit the UK… Jimmy could release it as a single!
Review
A few years back I listened and reviewed every Christmas number 1 in one sitting here. I rated Long Haired Lover from Liverpool as the worst of the 70s, and I stand by that. Comments included ‘Jesus Christ. That’s the only thing I can say about this that’s remotely festive, but it’s not meant as a compliment… It’s memorable I guess, but so is a bout of diarrhoea’. Nothing has changed since then to change my opinion, and although there have been plenty of weird choices in 1972’s number 1s, this still stands out as particularly stinky.
Osmond’s voice is just awful – but he was only nine (still the youngest person to ever have a UK number 1), so his parents are to blame. And the fools who kept this at the top of the charts for five weeks. FIVE WEEKS?! You can almost excuse it happening in the silly season, but for a month afterwards? And it kept David Bowie, T. Rex and even his brothers from number 1 with The Jean Genie, Solid Gold Easy Action and Crazy Horses respectively. The only plus point is it’s over quick.
After
Amazingly, Osmond scored further hits with Tweedle Dee and I’m Gonna Knock On Your Door (none of these songs fared anywhere near as well in his home country). His recordings became sporadic as the Osmond empire declined in popularity, and in the 80s he moved into management, though he would still occasionally appear on stage with his siblings. He opened the Osmond Family Theater and became president of Osmond Entertainment, running their merchandise and producing TV.
Since the new millennium began, Osmond has been a pantomime mainstay in the UK and appeared on TV time and time again, including I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!, Come Dine with Me and Celebrity Masterchef. He seems a thoroughly nice guy, and we all do silly things in our youth, so lets forgive him for this aberration.
The Outro
1972 must rank as one of the weirdest years for number 1s to date. Lots of the ‘grown-up’ stars were still concentrating on albums, and although glam rock ensured great releases by Slade and T. Rex, it wasn’t as huge as it was to become. At least January 1973 was a blockbuster month…
The Info
Written by
Christopher Dowden
Producers
Mike Curb & Perry Botkin Jr
Weeks at number 1
5 (23 December 1972-26 January 1973)
The Info
Births
29 December 1972:Actor Jude Law 18 January 1973:Kula Shaker singer Crispian Mills – 18 January 1973
Deaths
24 December 1972:Art historian Gisela Richter 15 January 1973: Scottish novelist Neil M Gunn 19 January:Northern Irish actor Max Adrian
Meanwhile…
1 January 1973: A big day for the UK, as it officially entered the European Economic Community along with the Republic of Ireland and Denmark. Membership refusals in 1963 and 1967 had both been vetoed by French President Charles de Gaulle. Edward Heath later said entry into the EEC was his greatest accomplishment as Prime Minister.
11 January: The BBC’s Open University awarded its first degrees.
19 January: Super tug Statesman was sent to protect British fishing vessels from Iceland’s ships in the Cod War.
22 January: British share values fell by £4 billion in one day.
25 January: English actor Derren Nesbitt pleaded guilty to assaulting his wife Anne Aubrey after she told him she had been having an affair. They divorced a few months later.
By the dry, dull summer of 1972, glam rock was on the rise. T. Rex had already peaked with their four number 1s, but other acts were now breaking through. The Sweet had scored several hits with Co-Co and Little Willy and two landmark albums were released in June – Roxy Music’s eponymous debut LP, and most importantly, David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. In the first week of July he made his famous appearance on Top of the Pops for Starman, putting his arm around guitarist Mick Ronson and making rock history.
Before
That same week, Slade were celebrating their second number 1. Since 1971’s Coz I Luv You, the Wolverhampton glam-rockers had turned down a multi-million-dollar campaign in the US to star in their own TV series and tour. But while the chance to become the next Monkees must have been appealing, singer Noddy Holder reportedly told the NME that they didn’t want to cancel commitments and let down their UK fans.
In January 1972 they released follow-up single Look Wot You Dun, written mostly by bassist Jim Lea and drummer Don Powell, with some help from Holder. The song reached number four, and Record Mirror reported they were annoying teachers by setting a bad example and releasing two misspelt singles in a row. Look Wot You Dun wasn’t as good as their number 1, but it proved Slade were no one-hit wonders. In March came Slade Alive!, recorded in front of 300 fan club members and featuring a storming version of Get Down and Get With It.
Take Me Bak ‘Ome, like their previous number 1, was written by Holder and Lea but according to Lea in the group’s 1984 biography Feel the Noize! it originated from an old tune he had made, with a bit of revamping and a phrase or two from The Beatles’ Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey.
Review
Of Slade’s six number 1s, this ranks as the least memorable. It’s only really worth hearing to get a better insight into how the band were striving and struggling to find the winning formula that they achieved from their next number 1 onwards. It’s meat-and-potatoes rock without the unique element of danger in Coz I Luv You and no anthemic chorus to latch on to, which they later excelled at. Lyrically, it’s a laddish story of boy-meets-drunken-girl-who-stinks-of-brandy. He tries it on, only to flee in fear of her boyfriend a ‘Superman’ who’s twice his size. And it was ‘alright’, apparently.
After
Take Me Bak ‘Ome climbed to number 13, and Slade were booked to perform at the Great Western Festival in Lincoln. The field of rock fans booed when Slade were announced to be performing imminently. They were worried they were considered too ‘pop’ and had blown it before even starting, but they won over the crowd with their heavy material, and it helped propel them to their second number 1.
The Outro
Interestingly, Holder had ad-libbed over the riff in the middle of the song’s recording but Lea suggested he change what he came up with as it had given him an idea for their next single…
The Info
Written by
Noddy Holder & Jim Lea
Producer
Chas Chandler
Weeks at number 1
1 (1-7 July)
Meanwhile…
1 July: The first official UK Gay Pride Rally was held in London, with approximately 2,000 participants.
In March 1971, singer-songwriter Marc Bolan appeared on Top of the Pops to promote T. Rex’s second single Hot Love, as shown below. His stylist, Chelita Secunda, had suggested he wear glitter under his eyes, and it was this appearance that spearheaded the glam rock movement and gave Bolan the stardom he had strived for. Forget ‘Mungo-mania’ – ‘T. Rextasy’ was the first true pop phenomenon in the UK since ‘Beatlemania’. Pop was rejuvenated.
Before
Bolan was born Mark Feld on 30 September 1947. He was raised in Stoke Newington, East London until the Felds moved to Wimbledon in southwest London when he was a young boy. Around this time he, like so many of his contemporaries, fell in love with rock’n’roll, particularly stars like Chuck Berry and Eddie Cochran. He was only nine when he was given his first guitar and he formed a skiffle band, and soon after he was playing guitar for Susie and the Hula Hoops, whose singer was 12-year-old Helen Shapiro, who would have two number 1s in 1961 with You Don’t Know and Walkin’ Back to Happiness.
Feld was expelled from school at 15 and around this time became known as ‘The Face’ due to his good looks. He joined a modelling agency and appeared in catalogues for Littlewoods and John Temple wearing Mod getup just as The Beatles were first making waves.
In 1964 Feld made his first known recording, All at Once, in which he aped Cliff Richard. Next, he changed his name to Toby Tyler when he became interested in the music of Bob Dylan, and he began to dress like him too. His first acetate was a cover of Blowin’ in the Wind.
The following year, he signed with Decca Records and changed his name to Marc Bowland, before his label suggested Marc Bolan. First single, The Wizard, featured Jimmy Page and backing vocalists The Ladybirds, who later collaborated with Benny Hill. None of his solo singles, in which he adopted a US folk sound, made any impact.
Simon Napier-Bell, manager of The Yardbirds and John’s Children, a struggling psychedelic rock act, first met Bolan in 1966 when he showed up at his house with a guitar, proclaiming that he was going to be a big star and wanted Napier-Bell to work with him. Bolan was nearly placed in The Yardbirds but was placed in John’s Children as guitarist and songwriter in March 1967 instead. The group were outrageous, and Bolan proved to be a good fit, writing the single Desdemona, which was banned by the BBC for the lyric ‘lift up your skirt and fly’. Only a month later, they toured as support for The Who but were soon given their marching orders for upstaging the headliners (Bolan would whip his guitar with a chain). John’s Children also performed at The 14-Hour Technicolour Dream at Alexander Palace that month. Yet by June Bolan had left the group after falling out with his manager over their unreleased single A Midsummer Night’s Scene.
Bolan formed his own group, Tyrannosaurus Rex, and after one rushed, disastrous gig, he pared the band down to just himself and their drummer, Steve Peregrin Took, who would play percussion and occasional bass alongside Bolan and his acoustic guitar. For the next few years, Tyrannosaurus Rex amassed a cult following, with Radio 1 DJ John Peel among their biggest fans. Bolan’s fey, whimsical warbling could get a bit much at times, and I speak as a lover of 60s psychedelia, but the signs of a very talented singer-songwriter are there right from their debut single Debora and first album, the brilliantly titled My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair… But Now They’re Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows (1968), produced by Tony Visconti. Peel even read short stories by Bolan on their albums.
This was the last album to feature Took, who had been growing apart from Bolan, who was working on a book of poetry called The Warlock of Love. Bolan’s ego didn’t take kindly to the thought of Took contributing to songwriting, so he replaced him with Mickey Finn for fourth album Beard of Stars, released in March 1970. David Bowie’s follow-up to Space Oddity, The Prettiest Star also came out that month, with Bolan on guitar. The single tanked.
As the new decade dawned, Bolan was outgrowing Tyrannosaurus Rex, and was simplifying his songwriting while reintroducing an electric band setup to the mix. Visconti had been abbreviating the band’s name to T. Rex for a while on recording tapes, and while Bolan didn’t appreciate it at first, he decided to adopt the name to represent the next stage of development.
While preparing to release their first material in their new incarnation, Bolan replaced The Kinks as headlining act at the Pilton Festival at Worthy Farm, the day after Jimi Hendrix died on 19 September. 50 years on, it’s known as Glastonbury Festival, the king of the UK festival scene.
T. Rex released their first single, Ride a White Swan in October. This, simple, catchy layered guitar track caught on, and finally Bolan had a hit on his hands, narrowly missing out on the number 1 spot due to Clive Dunn’s Grandad in January 1971. T. Rex’s eponymous debut also went top 10 in the album charts. Bolan was now famous, but he needed to capitalise and go one better to avoid being a one-hit wonder.
Hot Love was recorded on 21 and 22 January at Trident Studios – the week Ride a White Swan peaked at number two. Seizing the moment, Bolan decided to flesh out T. Rex’s sound and adopt a classic four-piece line-up. With new bassist Steve Currie making his recording debut, Bolan and Visconti hired Bill Fifield as drummer, leaving Finn relegated to just handclaps. After helping out on T. Rex, this single saw the return of Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman on backing vocals. The duo had been founding members of The Turtles, and as Flo & Eddie had recently been part of Frank Zappa’s group The Mothers of Invention. Kaylan and Volman’s slightly unhinged harmonies became an integral part of the classic T. Rex sound.
Review
Although Ride a White Swan served notice that Bolan was moving on from his old self-limited sonic boundaries, the lyrics were still very much the Tolkien whimsy of your average Tyrannosaurus Rex track. Hot Love featured a more simplistic, direct lyrical approach. Bolan is merely telling you about his lover.
Taken as read, much of T. Rex’s lyrical output can seem childish, sometimes even ridiculous, yet most of the time Bolan pulls it off, and he does so here. I’ve always admired the chutzpah of the lines ‘Well she ain’t no witch and I love the way she twitch – a ha ha’ and the charming camp of ‘I don’t mean to be bold, a-but a-may I hold your hand?’ but I’d never noticed the ludicrous ‘I’m a labourer of love in my persian gloves – a ha ha’ before. My favourite lyric of recent memory, right there.
There’s no point spending too much time dissecting Bolan’s words though, it’s more about the feel they add to his songs, and Hot Love feels sexy, which isn’t a label you could ever give his Tyrannosaurus Rex material. It’s fascinating to me how a voice that’s so fey, singing such daft words, can at the same time be so sensual.
The tune displays a key ingredient of glam rock – 50s rock’n’roll. Bolan has updated a simple bluesy riff and, thanks to the input of Visconti’s glossy studio sheen and string arrangement, updated it for 70s audiences. Kaylan and Volman’s backing vocals keep a certain strangeness in place and stop things getting too smooth, but this is a high definition Bolan that hadn’t been heard before, and Hot Love is just one reason why Visconti is rightly one of the most famous producers of all time.
The second half of Hot Love shifts into a ‘La-la-la-la-la-la-la’ Bolan, Kaylan and Volman singalong, akin to Hey Jude, but faster and weirder. It’s a real earworm, and no doubt helped it to number 1, but I find it goes on a bit too long, and I prefer the first half personally. Having said that, it really does show up the previous number 1, Baby Jump, as lumpen and turgid by comparison. A much-needed breath of fresh air in the charts, to put it mildly.
After
Released on 12 February on Fly Records, Hot Love rocketed up the charts, in part thanks to those famous Top of the Pops appearances. Bolan displayed star material in spades, and was perhaps the first musician since Elvis Presley to prove that image could be a vital ingredient in pop. Looking every inch the rock star with his glitter and guitar, he made glam rock about appearance as well as the sound, and other acts like Slade and friend/rival Bowie were watching and taking notes.
The Outro
The 70s were often a drab, moribund decade. Glam rock may have been a peculiarly British phenomenon that didn’t catch on elsewhere in the way Beatlemania did, but in the UK it was sorely needed, and brought about some of the best number 1s of the next four years. Bolan was integral in this.
T. Rex would prove to have a formula that Bolan couldn’t advance much from, and his star burnt out quick, but in the early 70s he gave pop the kick up the arse it needed. There are better T. Rex songs. However, Hot Love is one of the most important number 1s of the decade.
The Info
Written by
Marc Bolan
Producer
Tony Visconti
Weeks at number 1
6 (20 March-30 April)
Trivia
Births
23 March:Scottish actress Kate Dickie/TV presenter Gail Porter 27 March:Scottish racing driver David Coulthard 31 March:Cricketer Paul Grayson/Scottish actor Ewan McGregor 2 April:Cricketer Jason Lewry 3 April:Conservative MP Douglas Carswell 11 April:Liberal Democrat MP John Leech 16 April:Actress Belinda Stewart-Wilson 18 April:Scottish actor David Tennant
Deaths
20 April:Actor Cecil Parker
Meanwhile…
1 April: All restrictions on gold ownership were lifted in the UK. Since 1966 Britons had been banned from holding more than four gold coins or from buying any new ones, unless they held a licence.
11 April: 10 British Army soldiers were injured in rioting in Derry, Northern Ireland.
15 April: The planned Barbican Centre in London was given the go-ahead.
18 April: A serious fire at Kentish Town West railway station meant that the station remained closed until 5 October 1981.
19 April: Unemployment reached a post-World War Two high of nearly 815,000.
27 April: Eight members of the Welsh Language Society went on trial for destroying English language road signs in Wales. Also on this day, British Leyland launched the Morris Marina, which succeeded the Minor.
The first number 1 of 1971 had narrowly missed out on the 1970 Christmas number 1 spot, and although it’s not fit for much, it would have made a more fitting yuletide chart-topper than I Hear You Knocking. Grandad, by comedy actor Clive Dunn, was a canny grab at the purse-strings of pensioners and children, and in that sense was an early pioneer of the novelty Christmas song market. Factor in Dunn’s popularity as doddery old Lance Corporal Jones in BBC One sitcom Dad’s Army, and there’s little surprise it spent three weeks at number 1.
Before
Clive Robert Benjamin Dunn was born in Brixton, South London on 9 January 1920, meaning he had only turned 51 on the day his one-hit wonder about life as an OAP hit pole position. Both his parents were actors, and his cousin was Gretchen Franklin – better known as Ethel in BBC One soap opera EastEnders. Dunn had small roles in films while at school in the 30s, appearing alongside comedy actor Will Hay in Boys Will Be Boys in 1935.
Dunn’s acting ambitions were swept to one side when he served in World War Two for real, joining the British Army in 1940. He served in the Middle East until 1941 when he and hundreds of others were forced to surrender. Dunn was held as a POW in Austria for four years, but stayed with the Army upon his release, until 1947, when he returned to acting.
Fast forward to the mid-50s, and Dunn had found his calling in comedy roles, making several appearances alongside Tony Hancock on ITV and his classic radio series Hancock’s Half-Hour. In the early 60s he took on a role that would define the rest of his career, playing a comical 83-year-old man in ITV sitcom Bootsie and Snudge. He was only 38 at the time.
This made Dunn a natural choice to star in Dad’s Army as the nervy butcher Jones in 1968. As one of the youngest members of cast he could take the brunt of any physical comedy. The role in Jimmy Perry and David Croft’s sitcom made Dunn one of the most popular comedy stars of the era.
In 1970 Dunn met top session bassist Herbie Flowers at a BBC party. Flowers was a founding member of Melting Pot hitmakers Blue Mink and played bass on David Bowie’s Space Oddity (number 1 on its re-release in 1975). Upon discovering his occupation, Dunn allegedly challenged Flowers to write him a hit song.
So Flowers went away and with Dunn’s Dad’s Army character clearly in mind, he wrote a novelty song written from the point of view of an old man looking back at his youth. However, he was stuck for a chorus, until his friend Kenny Pickett (singer with 60s rock band The Creation) called round. Ringing the doorbell, a standard ‘ding dong’ chimed, and Flowers had the simple but scarily effective hook he was looking for.
Review
Over a leaden backing featuring ukelele, Flowers’ bass (I assume), and parping brass, Dunn recalls penny farthings, penny dreadfuls, ‘talking things’, and best of all, how ‘Motorcars were funny things, frightening’, when he was a lad. At the exact point you’re hoping his nurse will interject and give him his medication or clean him up, in comes a sickly kiddie choir, thankfully kept to a minimum, singing ‘Grandad, grandad you’re lovely/That’s what we all think of you’. Let’s be grateful they didn’t overdo it, unlike the similar Christmas number 1 of 1980, There’s No One Quite Like Grandma. Incidentally, co-producer Ray Cameron, is comedian Michael McIntyre’s dad.
It’s rotten, cynical stuff, but at least Flowers made up for it. He’s played on hundreds of hits over the years, and among other things, was a member of CSS, T. Rex and Sky. He also performed on Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version of The War of the Worlds, but most notably, he was the man behind the bass line on Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side. So we can forgive him.
We can forgive Dunn too, such was his charm. He was a staunch socialist too, who would argue with Conservative voter Arthur Lowe over politics, so he’s alright by me (although he did have a brief flirtation with Oswald Moseley’s British Union of Fascists in his youth, which he regretted). He was also known for his friendliness towards autograph seekers.
After
Dad’s Army ended in 1977, and two years later Dunn found work playing – what else? – an old man in BBC children’s series Grandad. Despite the obvious similarities, it was unrelated to his number 1. When his role as Charlie Quick ended in 1984, Dunn retired and moved to Portugal.
The Outro
It blew my young mind, growing up on repeats of Dad’s Army in the 80s, to know that Dunn was one of the youngest cast members and one of the few still alive. But even he got old for real eventually, and he died as a result of operation complications on 6 November 2012, aged 92.
The Info
Written by
Herbie Flowers & Kenny Pickett
Producers
Peter Dulay & Ray Cameron
Weeks at number 1
3 (9-29 January)
Trivia
Births
12 January:Artist Jay Burridge 15 January:Actress Lara Cazalet 20 January:Take That singer-songwriter Gary Barlow 21 January:Scottish snooker player Alan McManus 29 January:Sports broadcaster Clare Balding
Deaths
24 January:Northern Irish dramatist St John Greer Ervine 28 January:Psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott
Meanwhile…
12 January: The Hertfordshire home of Robert Carr, Secretary of State for Employment, was bombed, but nobody was injured.
14 January: Extremist group The Angry Brigade claimed responsibility for the bombing of Robert Carr’s house, in addition to planting a bomb at the Department of Employment offices at Westminster.
20 January: UPW General Secretary Tom Jackson led the first ever postal workers’ strike took place. Workers were insisting on a 19.5% pay rise.
21 January: After collapsing in March 1969, a newly reconstructed Emley Moor transmitter in West Yorkshire starts again. It became Britain’s tallest freestanding structure, a concrete tower standing at 1084ft.
23 January: The first Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, in Singapore, gave Britain permission to sell weapons to South Africa.
