Every 70s Number 1

The Intro

In just over two years I’ve covered all the chart-toppers of the 70s. 168 blogs covering some of the best and worst pop songs of the decade. It was a decade of predictable highs and some unexpectedly huge lows.

The 60s were an incredible decade of transformation in music, thanks to pioneers like The Beatles. But in 1970 they split, and left a vacuum that took some time to get filled. But that’s not to say things immediately went to pot. As albums overtook singles in popularity, the early-70s number 1s are a fascinating mishmash of genres, as pop tried to chart its course through early-adulthood.

As we’ll see, glam rock acts like T Rex and Slade finally replaced The Beatles to an extent, and helped the country through some dark years. But then pop went through the equivalent of a mid-life crisis.

The mid-70s made for some often grim listening experiences, and you’ve only to watch episodes of Top of the Pops from that time to see how depressing things had become. The audience often look listless and bored rigid. Which is interesting, as the middle of the 60s was the most fertile period in pop, perhaps ever.

As we know, the story goes that punk gave pop a much-needed shot in the arm. And it’s true, but it took a while for that to sink into chart music, and the last few years of the decade saw a huge improvement. That’s thanks to new wave, which melded the rebelliousness and energy of punk with pop sensibilities. 1979 in particular is an embarrassment of riches, as we’ll see.

So, as with the 50s and 60s, here we go with a whistle-stop review of each year of the 70s, with my picks for the best and worst of each year, ending with my pick for each from the entire decade.

1970

As with the start of the 60s, 1970 begins as the previous decade, with rock remaining the most popular genre. The biggest difference is, for the first time since 1962, The Beatles didn’t get to number 1. Starting things off nicely are Edison Lighthouse, with the very Summer of Love-sounding Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes). Things take a dark, strange turn after that, and I have to say that Lee Marvin’s Wand’rin’ Star still impresses! There are some great lyrics in there, growled very effectively. Simon & Garfunkel bowed out as a duo with the first classic – Bridge over Troubled Water proves the hippy dream of loving and caring for your brothers and sisters wasn’t dead, even if the two singers couldn’t stand recording together after this. The early stirrings of glam appear thanks to Norman Greenbaum’s brilliant one-hit wonder Spirit in the Sky, which went to number 1 in the 80s and 00s for two other acts. Hard to believe now but for a while, it looked as if Mungo Jerry might become as big as the Fab Four. As silly as that sounds, you can’t deny that In the Summertime can still put a smile on anyone’s face. It’s another great 1970 number 1. Also deserving a notable mention is Matthews’ Southern Comfort’s poignant take on Joni Mitchell’s Woodstock. It’s such an underrated chart-topper, and a touching tribute to the 60s. As the decade struggles to find its way, it looks back at what came before several times. Two number 1s this year are actually 60s tracks. Smokey Robinson and The Miracles’ Tears of a Clown, another classic, has aged brilliantly, dating back to 1967. I’ll talk about the other in due course… Speaking of past stars, Elvis Presley is back at number 1 for the first time since 1965 with a cover of a 50s song, and Dave Edmunds rounds off in a similar way with I Hear You Knocking. There’s decent soul with interesting lyrics courtesy of Freda Payne’s Band of Gold, and Christie’s Yellow River has a very catchy chorus. There’s very little I can say bad about 1970 really. Even the England World Cup football team’s official song Back Home was an OK curio.

The Best:

The Jimi Hendrix Experience – Voodoo Chile

Released as a single after guitar genius Jimi Hendrix’s shock death at the age of 27, this track, originally called Voodoo Chile (Slight Return), closed the group’s final album Electric Ladyland, released in 1968. Never intended as a single, Hendrix sings about his superhuman prowess but soon lets his guitar do the talking, as he so often did, to dizzying effect. Panning around the listener’s head, this supercharged psychedelia is the perfect showcase of the great man’s amazing talent, and is another appropriate epitaph on an amazing decade.

What’s the best 1970 number 1 that actually dates from that year? That’s actually almost impossible to decide between Bridge over Troubled Water, Spirit in the Sky and Woodstock. I’ll go with Simon & Garfunkel.

The Worst:

Dana – All Kinds of Everything

In an very impressive year, the Irish singer’s Eurovision winner sticks out like a sore thumb. Perfect for that competition, not so right for a year of great rock and soul. This ultra-twee ballad was spoofed even at the time, and it’s aged badly.

1971

In general, a noticeable divide appears this year that applies for most of the decade. The hip kids are turned on to the new glam sound emerging from T Rex with classics like Hot Love and Get It On, and Slade finally crack the charts – though they’re not the full-on force they’ll soon become, Coz I Luv You is still a catchy stomper. Meanwhile, the parents and grandparents are happy with cheesy dreck like Dawn’s Knock Three Times. Take a closer look though and it’s not that straightforward, as everyone seemed to love Middle of the Road’s Chirpy Chirpy Cheep – their name was perhaps more appropriate than anyone gave them credit for. And as bad as it is, never discount the effectiveness of an earworm. Also appealing to every generation, which probably explains why it became the year’s biggest seller, is George Harrison, becoming the first Beatle to have a solo number 1. The originality of My Sweet Lord may be debated but Harrison did the job with this lovely hymn that transcends devotion to one God. We also see hear just how popular novelty songs became in the 70s, with Clive Dunn’s Grandad kicking things off and Benny Hill’s Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West). And I don’t mind either, really. The soul choices for this year are average – Diana Ross’s I’m Still Waiting, then toppled by The Tams’ Hey Girl Don’t Bother Me. Much more enjoyable, and a refreshing change, is the reggae/ska track Double Barrel by Dave and Ansil Collins. Rod Stewart also gets the first of many appearances, and Reason to Believe/Maggie May are good – the latter is obviously a classic. Mungo Jerry bow out with the raucous sleazy curio Baby Jump.

The Best:

T Rex – Hot Love

After years of searching for stardom, Marc Bolan finally hit upon the sound that would make him gain music immortality. Hot Love is particularly strong. It’s sexy, raunchy and retains the weirdness of his Tyrannosaurus Rex era with some strange lyrics and those slightly unhinged backing vocals from Flo & Eddie. It’s Bolan’s Hey Jude, with a long triumphant fade-out, before he became obsessed with streamlining his winning formula to the point of parody.

The Worst:

Dawn – Knock Three Times

It was a toss-up between this and Middle of the Road, but as I said, Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep is at least very memorable, as pop should be. This isn’t really, is a throwback to the Humperdinck-MOR of the 60s, and a sign of some of the crap to come throughout the 70s.

1972

Glam rock continues to grow, and T Rex have their final two number 1s. Although the well has begun to run dry rather quickly for Marc Bolan, I have to confess Telegram Sam has grown on me since I reviewed it, and Metal Guru is fine life-affirming pop. Slade also notched up two more chart-toppers, and with Mama Weer All Crazee Now, they hit upon the template of fun glam anthems that would peak the following year. You could potentially stick Alice Cooper in the genre too, although they were more schlock-rock really. Nonetheless, this is a rather poor link into the fact that School’s Out still sounds great. There’s plenty of great stuff from this year. Chicory Tip’s Son of My Father is the first number 1 to feature a synthesiser, and we’d hear more of that instrument and its pioneer Giorgio Moroder, who co-wrote this song, later in the 70s. Nilsson invented the power ballad with his cover of Badfinger’s Without You – this is the best version of a great tune, later a number 1 for Mariah Carey. 1972 saw the start of two families cornering the teen pop market – one real and one fictional. The Osmonds became an ever-present force in the charts, mainly thanks to the squeaky-clean Donny Osmond. His first number 1 was the syrupy Puppy Love. David Cassidy, from TV show The Partridge Family, was more rebellious and had aspersions to be a credible pop star. How Can I Be Sure is OK, I guess. Elsewhere in the pop world, The New Seekers version of the famous Coke jingle is obviously very sappy, but I have to confess to a soft spot for I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (In Perfect Harmony). In the fair-to-middling category are Don McLean’s ode to Vincent Van Gogh and Rod Stewart’s You Wear It Well. There’s some baffling ones too, one of which is genuinely wonderful (Lieutenant Pigeon’s Mouldy Old Dough) and the other is probably the weirdest, possibly of all time (the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards’ Amazing Grace). Then there’s the ‘dreck’ category, containing Gilbert O’Sullivan’s Clair, Chuck Berry’s My Ding-a-Ling and… well, you can probably guess.

The Best:

T Rex – Metal Guru

I’d rank this third best of the four Bolan chart-toppers, but Hot Love and Get It On are two of the finest of the decade. Metal Guru is still great, from the ecstatic ‘Woah, yeah!’ at the start to the ‘yeah, yeah yeah’ at the fade. The lyrics are as usual, weird and silly, but the tune is infectious and would later be pinched by Johnny Marr to great effect for The Smiths’ Sheila Take a Bow. With this, T Rex become the second act after The Beatles to get my pick for best number 1 two years in a row (Hello, Goodbye and Hey Jude), and deservedly so.

The Worst:

Little Jimmy Osmond with The Mike Curb Congregation – Long Haired Lover from Liverpool

This was my pick of worst Christmas number 1s of the 70s and it’s so deserving. Genuinely offensive to the ears. A screeching, godawful racket, with nothing to say in its favour. Perhaps the decade’s nadir – no offence, Jimmy. Seems like a nice guy.

1973

We’re entering the peak of the glam era now, and what a storming start we have. A double-bill of 1973 highlights with The Sweet’s Block Buster!, followed by Slade’s Cum On Feel the Noize. The latter had an incredible year, notching up three chart-toppers, two of which are undeniable classics. Later in the year there’s the Wizzard song that’s for life not just for Christmas (See My Baby Jive), and a pretty enjoyable tribute to the 50s (Angel Fingers (A Teen Ballad)). Unfortunately Gary Glitter inevitably rears his ugly head, but all credit to his producer and songwriter Mike Leander, not the paedophile, because I can’t deny that I’m the Leader of the Gang (I Am!) and to a lesser extent I Love You Love Me Love would still be fondly remembered were it not for the obvious. The Chinnichap hit making team were scoring hits left, right and centre, and as well as The Sweet, there was the first of two bestsellers for Suzi Quatro with the rocking Can the Can. Osmond and Cassidy are back once more and the former’s two number 1s are not quite as sickly as Puppy Love from the year previous. His last solo entry, Young Love, was the first cover of a former number 1 – Tab Hunter was responsible in 1957. Cassidy’s double A-side is a strange mixed-bag. Daydreamer is a soppy melancholy middling track, and then he covers a Nilsson song. But The Puppy Song is just a novelty track, really. Second of two number 1s concerning dogs too, if you count Gilbert O’Sullivan’s Get Down. 10cc’s first of three chart-toppers this year got a pretty good review from me originally, but Rubber Bullets really stood out for me this time around. The weirdest track this year has to be the Simon Park Orchestra’s Eye Level (Theme from the Thames TV Series ‘Van Der Talk’), but I’ve always enjoyed it!

The Best:

Slade – Merry Xmaƨ Everybody: Despite this being my pick for greatest Christmas number 1 of all time, I wasn’t sure this would be my pick for 1973, purely because, well, there’s only one month a year you should be listening to this really, whereas their other classic, Cum On Feel the Noize, is also brilliant, underrated, and can be enjoyed anytime. However, in the end, it had to be Slade’s sixth and final chart-topper really, because ‘IT’S CHHHHRRRIIIISSSSSTTTMMMAAASSSS’ is still electrifying, even on the 430,000,000th listen.

The Worst:

Dawn (Featuring Tony Orlando) – Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree

This is actually more enjoyable then Knock Three Times, and I don’t hate it (against my better judgement), but the 1973 selection of number 1s is particularly impressive, so this rather sticks out like a sore thumb.

1974

The tail end of the glam years sees it become a little too retro. That’s no bad thing when it comes to Mud’s Tiger Feet, which is one of the most joyous songs of the decade, quite frankly. But although their Christmas number 1 Lonely This Christmas is one of my favourite Christmas-themed chart-toppers, it’s obviously an Elvis pastiche and isn’t a patch on Merry Xmaƨ Everybody. Alvin Stardust makes his one and only appearance here, but Jealous Mind is weirdly disjointed and only got where it did because of the previous success of the superior My Coo Ca Choo. Suzi Quatro’s second and last, Devil Gate Drive, is better, but not quite as good as Can the Can. Gary Glitter’s third and last, Always Yours, proves that Leander was the talent – this track is totally forgettable without his songwriting and production. Is Sugar Baby Love glam rock? I’m not sure, but The Rubettes liked to dress up and it’s certainly indebted to the 50s – that falsetto is glorious and has grown on me. Another sign pop was looking backwards now is the return of the death disc. Last seen back in the 60s, we’ve two in a row here – Paper Lace’s Billy – Don’t Be a Hero (middling) and Terry Jack’s Seasons in the Sun (better). Lots of pop, by some big names too. We’ve the debut of ABBA with Waterloo, The New Seekers’ endearingly bawdy sounding You Won’t Find Another Fool Like Me, David Essex’s Gonna Make You a Star and The Osmonds’ Love Me for a Reason, which is much better than Donny’s chart-toppers. All these are decent. Charles Aznavour’s She and John Denver’s Annie’s Song don’t do much for me, though. Some nice soul and reggae tracks courtesy of The Three Degrees (When Will I See You Again) and Barry White (You’re the First, the Last, My Everything). Less good is Sweet Sensation’s Sad Sweet Dreamer. Ken Boothe flies the reggae flag proudly with the lovely Everything I Own. And as for novelty one-hit wonders, well it doesn’t get much better than Carl Douglas’s Kung Fu Fighting, surely?

The Best:

George McCrae – Rock Your Baby

It’s genuinely difficult to pick between this and Tiger Feet. But Rock Your Baby is one of my favourite disco tracks of all time and was one of the first of its kind, so McCrae wins for advancing music rather than looking back like Mud. There’s lots of other reasons Rock Your Baby is so great, of course. That cute, primitive drum machine at the start, the slinky groove from members of KC and the Sunshine Band, but most of all, a gorgeous, angelic vocal from McCrae, who ended up singing this by accident. And what an accident, because it’s something I’ll never tire of. If anything, my love and appreciation for this grows every time I hear it.

The Worst:

Ray Stevens – The Streak

Truly horrific novelty country pop, cashing in on the very 70s phenomenon of streaking. There’s many reasons to hate this. That high-pitched noise at every chorus. The ‘boogadie-boogadie’ backing vocals. The fact it’s not funny in the slightest. Bloody awful.

1975

This year is all over the place with styles and quality. On the rock front glam is dying out and you could argue Mud’s lacklustre cover of Buddy Holly’s Oh Boy is the last one. Were Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel glam? I’m not so sure but if you think so, then Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) is a bona fide classic and one of the year’s highlights. Queen weren’t glam but there’s certainly some similarities, and obviously Bohemian Rhapsody is one of the most famous number 1s (on two occasions) of all time. Overfamiliarity has perhaps spoiled it for me over the years, but hearing it in the context of the rest of the year, I love it once more. Classic rock started the year off, actually – Status Quo’s one and only chart-topper Down Down is a prime example of how good they can sound – in small doses. The intro to Pilot’s January is excellent, but it settles down into straightforward pop – but it’s growing on me. But special mention on the rock front has to go to 10cc’s I’m Not in Love. Like Bohemian Rhapsody, it pushes the envelope, which doesn’t happen often in the mid-70s. Unlike Bohemian Rhapsody, it’s under appreciated, and gets better with age. Absolutely brilliant and the best ‘new’ number 1 of 1975. What’s happening on the pop front? Well, Roller-mania was in full force with Bay City Rollers cropping up twice. And to be fair, both Bye Bye Baby and Give a Little Love are acceptable teen pop anthems. On the soul front, The Tymes M/s Grace and The Stylistics’ Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love) are nothing special. Elsewhere, there’s some big names once more. Essex’s second and last number 1, Hold Me Close, is a bit too chirpy and it’s a shame Rock On didn’t hold pole position. Tammy Wynette’s Stand By Your Man, originally a 60s hit, doesn’t do a lot for me and I can see why it’s somewhat controversial lyrically, especially in 2022. And it’s the 70s, so of course there’s some weird one-hit-wonders too. Telly Savalas’s spoken-word cover of If is bizarre but interesting. Windsor Davies and Don Estelle’s cover of Whispering Grass is strangely touching! Typically Tropical’s Barbados is politically incorrect and crap, but the Vengaboys would also have a number 1 over 20 years later with a very similar song about Ibiza.

The Best:

David Bowie – Space Oddity

Genuinely torn about rewarding another best number 1 to a 60s hit, and considered giving 1975 to 10cc. But… it’s David Bowie! And not only is it Bowie, it’s one of his best, and the one that started his path to stardom. Had Bowie never had another hit, he’d still be remembered for this classic tale about the alienation of Major Tom as he drifts off into space. It’s majestic, haunting and totally amazing. It’s frankly criminal that this should be Bowie’s only chart-topper in what was an amazing decade for him, but it’s better than none at all.

The Worst:

Billy Connolly – D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

Ye gads this is bad. Maybe it would help if I loved Connolly as a comic, I’m not sure. But it’s aged awfully. A reworking of a Wynette song that isn’t anywhere near as funny as the Big Yin seems to think it is.

1976

There’s a pretty big decline in quality on the whole. ABBA made a big return, enjoying three number 1s. One amazing, one OK, one poor. Big clue here – Mamma Mia is OK, Fernando isn’t. There’s somewhat of a Europop feeling to proceedings. As well as ABBA, there’s Brotherhood of Man’s sappy Eurovision winner, Save Your Kisses for Me, Dutch group Pussycat’s painful Mississippi and Greek warbler Demis Roussos’s Excerpts from ‘The Roussos Phenomenon (EP). The latter is at least of note for being the first ever EP to top the charts, and I have a soft spot for Forever and Ever. But three more inferior songs by Roussos kills the flow somewhat – it’s not quite the same as listening to The Beatles in their prime. Weirdly, it’s the second song called Forever and Ever at number 1 – and the first came earlier that year. It’s a real curio, featuring not only Midge Are, but a really strange mix of dark Gothic pomp and Rollers-style teen pop. What legends do we have this year? There’s The Four Seasons with the memorable December 1963 (Oh, What a Night), a deceptively sweet song about losing your virginity to a prostitute. And there’s also Elton John’s first stint at the top with Kiki Dee. Don’t Go Breaking My Heart is a still-charming bit of disco. In fact, disco is easily the highlight of the year, represented pretty well by this and The Real Thing’s You to Me Are Everything – one of the year’s highlights. Tina Charles’s I Love to Love (But My Baby Loves to Dance) isn’t quite as impressive. Which leaves a mixed bag. You’ve one of the best novelty hits of the decade with The Wurzels’ The Combine Harvester (Brand New Key). Ridiculous but hilariously addictive. Then the year ends with some odds and sods. Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now starts off strong but melts into mush. Showaddywaddy’s Under the Moon of Love is a rather fun slice of tail-end glam. And 50s crooner Johnny Mathis brings a stately end to proceedings with When a Child is Born (Soleado). But in general, a rot has set in, and things need shaking up.

The Best:

ABBA – Dancing Queen

One of the greatest pop songs of the decade. Dancing Queen would come out top in an average year easily. In a year like 1976, it wipes the floor with the competition. And I’m not exactly the world’s biggest ABBA fan. Writing this blog has made me more appreciative of them though, especially when you compare them to what else was happening – particularly at this point. Sublime bliss.

The Worst:

J.J. Barrie – No Charge

It takes an especially bad song to rank lower than Pussycat’s Mississippi, but this is absolutely fucking terrible. It’s so bad it makes me angry. It’s so bad it could bring me to tears. It’s so bad. So, so, so bad. I can’t… words can’t describe how bad this is. It’s really bad. Bad.

1977

As we know, the Queen’s jubilee year and the rise of punk saw an inevitable culture clash, resulting in perhaps the most controversial number 1 ever. Yes, upon researching, I can’t help but strongly suspect that the music industry really did pretend that the Sex Pistols’ God Save the Queen only made it to number two, to prevent embarrassment during the celebrations of the monarch that summer. A real shame because it would have ranked as one of the most exciting parts of another generally lacklustre year. Although it was better than 1976. And thankfully the ramifications did shake the charts up in due course, as we’ll see. The other biggest chart news of the year was certainly the death of Elvis Presley. So dominant in the 50s and 60s charts, his 17th number 1 (equalling The Beatles) Way Down showed that even ‘The King’ couldn’t resist the disco bandwagon. But there weren’t many other disco chart-toppers that year. Baccara’s Yes Sir, I Can Boogie was a fun slice of Euro-sleaze, though. Elsewhere it was mainly pop and soul. And David Soul, the Starsky & Hutch TV star had two average chart-toppers, Don’t Give Up on Us and Silver Lady. Julie Covington’s rendition of Don’t Cry for Me Argentina brought a song from a musicals to the pinnacle of the charts for the first time in ages, but it’s too stately for me to enjoy. Leo Sayer’s When I Need You is a decent power ballad. On the novelty front, The Manhattan Transfer’s Chanson d’Amour is deeply irritating, whereas The Floaters’ Float On is pretty cool. ABBA are back with another two great tracks – Knowing Me, Knowing You and The Name of the Game display their growing maturity very well. Deniece Williams’ tender soul song Free is underrated – but make sure you listen to the album version. Despite my annoyance over the Sex Pistols controversy, at least Rod Stewarts’ double-bill First Cut Is the Deepest/I Don’t Want to Talk About It are two of his better number 1 tracks and complement each other well. Country giant Kenny Rogers had his first chart-topper with the OK track Lucille. We’ve then got the number 1 debut of one of the biggest stars of the next decade, as The Jacksons’ had their only number 1 with Show You the Way to Go. The Jackson 5 had better singles, but this is lovely too. And then at the end of the year, another music legend made a triumphant return. Paul McCartney became the second former-Beatle to get to number 1 when Wings broke the record for the biggest-selling UK single of all time, which it kept for years. But not many know that the record doesn’t just go to Mull of Kintyre, but to Girls’ School too, as it was a double A-side.

The Best:

Donna Summer – I Feel Love

Head and shoulders above most of the rest of the decade. Disco diva Summer’s collaboration with Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte was created with the intention of sounding like music of the future. They most likely didn’t realise just how prescient this turned out to be. Transcendent, pioneering, immortal. A number 1 I could listen to on a loop forever.

The Worst:

Brotherhood of Man – Angelo

I was genuinely disgusted that the song I ranked best of 1977 was knocked from the top by this. This is the 70s at its worst. A corny, light entertainment rip-off of ABBA’s Fernando, which I wasn’t too keen on either, but at least it was ABBA’s own song! This attempted rewrite shows a distinct lack of imagination and shows the team behind Brotherhood of Man up as total opportunists. Eugh.

1978

Things picked up a gear as the decade drew to a close. Punk was already on its way out but new wave rose in its wake, with The Boomtown Rats’ Rat Trap the first chart-topper of the genre. Better were to come, but it’s a good start Many more followed in 1979. However, the biggest success story of the year was definitely Grease. John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John enjoyed a whopping 16 weeks at the top in total with You’re the One That I Want (nine) and Summer Nights (seven). I like both – but I’m fully aware that, had I been a teen back then, I’d have been so relieved when Bob Geldof ripped up a picture of the actors on Top of the Pops. The other main winners of the year were Boney M, with two disco-light number 1s. I’ve never been a fan of Frank Farian’s tacky productions, and time hasn’t made me warm to Rivers of Babylon or Mary’s Boy Child/Oh My Lord any more. Far better on the disco front was the Bee Gees triumphant return to the top spot with one of my favourite tracks from the Saturday Night Fever, soundtrack (Travolta was everywhere). Stayin’ Alive was the album’s true classic, but this does nicely. And the other? Well blow me down if it isn’t Rod the Mod. Stewart was understandably accused of jumping on the disco bandwagon with Da ‘Ya’ Think I’m Sexy?, and yes, he looks ridiculous and the video is silly, but I like the song, so there. The year got off to an excellent start with some proper reggae by Althea & Donna with Uptown Top Ranking. In September 10cc spoofed the genre with the ill-advised Dreadlock Holiday. Not a patch on I’m Not in Love, but the tune is infectious as we all know. ABBA bow out of the decade on the number 1 front with the catchy-as-hell Take a Chance on Me. After a few mature singles, this brought the fun back big time. What’s left? Brotherhood of Man nervously poke their heads round the corner after the godawful Angelo, but they can rest easy because I actually find Figaro amusing rather than reprehensible. It gives great bass, and they’re not ripping off ABBA for a change. The Commodores make their only appearance in the summer, and while Lionel Richie wrote some great songs for them and his solo career, I find Three Times a Lady a little too sentimental. Brian and Michael’s Matchstalk Men & Matchstalk Cats & Dogs (Lowry’s Song) is an average novelty number 1, with touching lyrics about LS Lowry, but a bit too ‘Eee ba gum’ at the same time.

The Best:

Kate Bush – Wuthering Heights

The first ever number 1 by a UK woman, Wuthering Heights introduced the world to one of our most unique songwriting talents. Few number 1s had ever had such an original premise, despite its theme being totally unoriginal. I don’t know how many record buyers had even read Wuthering Heights, but it didn’t matter, because Bush embodies the ghostly Cathy of the novel so well, the longing pierces you, the chorus is mammoth, the piano is beautiful, and the guitar solo is heroic. I think ‘Ooh, let me have it/let me grab your soul away’ captures the way not only Cathy feels, but how anyone totally lost in love feels, and the resolution in ‘It’s me, Cathy’ is beautiful. Wise beyond her years.

The Worst:

Boney M – Mary’s Boy Child/Oh My Lord

I know many people still love Boney M, but I’ve never liked them. Done right, disco is life-affirming, entrancing and fantastic. Farian’s productions suck the life out of the genre, scream the word ‘fake’ and make me feel like I’m in a supermarket full of zombies on a rainy Sunday. If ever there was a time of year you’d think I’d be able to forgive them for that, it would be Christmas. But no, despite happily listening to all kinds of Christmas songs by artists I’d normally not touch with a bargepole, this cover of Harry Belafonte’s 1957 festive chart-topper is putrid.

1979

Wow. Not since the mid-60s has a year had such a strong showing of exciting, fascinating, invigorating number 1s. The seeds sown by punk finally bear fruit properly, and how. New wave runs rampant, with hit after hit. Ian Dury and The Blockheads’ Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick, Blondie’s Heart of Glass and Sunday Girl, Tubeway Army’s Are ‘Friends’ Electric?, Gary Numan’s Cars, The Boomtown Rats’ I Don’t Like Mondays, The Police’s Message in a Bottle and Walking on the Moon, The Buggles’ Video Killed the Radio Star… five of those are tremendous and could easily have been my pick for the year I was born. And the great thing about new wave is, it straddles many other genres at the same time. Disco remained strong this year, getting it off to a fun start with the Village People’s Y.M.C.A.. The Bee Gees are back again but in such a strong year, Tragedy kind of gets lost in the crowd. Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive is a classic to most but overkill has ruined its impact over the years. I prefer Anita Ward’s saucy Ring My Bell, personally. And I’ve always had a soft spot for Dr Hook’s When You’re in Love with a Beautiful Woman. The decade came to a close with that most unlikely disco group – prog rock titans Pink Floyd. Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) is far from the most festive Christmas number 1 of all time, but a song that set the scene for the Thatcher era that was just beginning. Is Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick disco? Or is it funk? It kind of defies description, so let’s just go with new wave. What I do know is, it’s amazing. On the legends front, Art Garfunkel’s hauntingly poignant Bright Eyes is a favourite of mine – and not just because it was the top of the pops when I was born. And good God, Cliff Richard is back – and even he puts up a good showing, with We Don’t Talk Anymore! Blondie’s form of new wave branches off into several genres, particularly with their first and best number 1 – Heart of Glass. Their second, Sunday Girl, is a pleasant enough pop ditty, but again, it’s up against some true greats. Gary Numan has always been adored by his ‘Numanoids’ but to the general public he’s often derided as a David Bowie and Kraftwerk impersonator. There’s no denying the influence of either on him, but that shouldn’t take away from the brilliance of his two singles here. Tubeway Army’s Are ‘Friends’ Electric? is my favourite of the two (just), because it sounds totally alien to previous number 1s – so strange, yet so catchy, and pointing the way to the 80s and beyond. Cars is great too, obviously. The Boomtown Rats’ second number 1, I Don’t Like Mondays, is much better known than Rat Trap, and although it’s perhaps a bit on the earnest side, I’ve always liked it. This blog has alerted me to how good some of The Police’s chart-toppers were. Message in a Bottle is better than I remember, blending reggae, punk and pop, but the dub-based majesty of Walking on the Moon is even better. Which leaves one more to mention here, and it’s wholly appropriate to bring a close to proceedings with Video Killed the Radio Star, a classic pop track that, like Numan, showed what was around the corner. There was plenty of intelligent, shiny, cool pop still to come in the 80s.

The Best:

Blondie – Heart of Glass

The New York five-piece will never know, or give the remotest shit, that they won out in 1979, but it’s a hell of a feat if you ask me, so strong was the competition. In the end, it was between this, Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick and Are ‘Friends’ Electric?. All three pushed the envelope of pop, crossed boundaries and still managed to capture the imagination of the public, for vastly different reasons. I went with this stone-cold classic because… it’s just so damn impressive that a punk-pop group from New York were able to make a disco-electro tune that proves they understood and loved dance music as much as rock. Of course, Debbie Harry is one of the greatest lead singers ever, so cool, strong, intelligent and sexy. Her performance in Heart of Glass is perfect. And it contains the word ‘ass’. What more could you want in a number 1?

The Worst:

Lena Martell – One Day at a Time

I just cannot understand how got through the net in 1979. This is the only number 1 song I dislike in the whole year. I’m not sure that’s happened before or will happen again. It’s certainly not the worst of the 70s though, and wouldn’t get singled out half as much had it appeared earlier in the decade. But bad timing, Martell. It’s so dated and dull.

The Best 70s Number 1 Ever is…

Donna Summer – I Feel Love

In an often disappointing decade, I Feel Love reigns supreme. It’s the blueprint for the future of music. Propelled by Moroder’s amazing, retro-yet-innovative production, Summer’s vocal is a soaring, sexy thing of beauty. Like previous decade winners Great Balls of Fire and She Loves You, it’s unique, yet in tune with the times, revolutionary, yet never forgets that it’s ultimately, a pop song. And if these three songs don’t prove that pop is so much more than just a three-minute tune to tap your feet to, please tell me why.

The Worst 70s Number 1 Ever is…

JJ Barrie – No Charge

No bloody wonder, more like. There were lots of painful chart-toppers in the 70s, as we’ve seen, but none elicited such anger and bile in me as this. It’s that awful over-sincere spoken word country twang, with the wailing of the backing singer, combined with the mawkish lyric. Hopefully, I’ll never have to suffer this ever again now.

The Outro

From soaring highs to awful troughs, the number 1s of the 70s are a very mixed bag. What surprised me was how, for me, the quality doesn’t suffer as soon as The Beatles split. Despite a noticeable void, there’s lots of great rock and pop in the early 70s. And then of course, T Rex usher in glam, and there’s lots of good, even great, glam songs here. Disco is the other main genre that pops up time and again throughout the decade. Again, the quality varies greatly, but at its best it takes pop forward and transcends a lot of mediocre material around at the same time. And then new wave is definitely the end of the decade’s best success story, having a massive impact and setting the scene for the 80s.

ABBA impressed me more than I expected, and from reviewing what else was around, particularly in 1976, I can see now why they’re so highly regarded. But they also sum up some of the decade’s weakest points – the MOR pop, cheesy and disposable. Although, you can’t blame ABBA for Brotherhood of Man, for instance.

It’s also worth noting that my favourite number 1s of 1970 and 1975 are actually from 1968 and 1969 respectively. It was a fascinating, brilliant, infuriating g decade for chart-toppers, all in all.

Blogs on every 70s number 1 are available to view via the Archive section.

298. T. Rex – Hot Love (1971)

The Intro

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.

295. Clive Dunn – Grandad (1971)

The Intro

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.