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.

350. Ray Stevens – The Streak (1974)

The Intro

Think of the fads of the 70s and you’ll likely think of spacehoppers, rollerskates and lava lamps. But what about all the naked men and women that made the headlines for streaking at sporting events? This was still popular during my childhood in the 80s, and I just assumed it was something that happened every now and then because, well, people are silly and it’s funny to take all your clothes off and run around until you’re caught (I imagine). I didn’t realise until now it became a ‘thing’ in the 70s.

There were examples going back way further though. In the 15th century, the Adamites protested the Holy Roman Empire’s morality by running naked through their Bohemian village. Apparently, the Quakers revived the pastime in the 17th century. Modern streaking started up in the free and easy 60s at US universities, and peaked in 1974, with a streaker at the Oscars and ever more elaborate and organised stunts taking place.

That February, one of the most famous sporting streaks happened at the England v France rugby match at Twickenham Stadium, when an Australian named Michael O’Brien decided to take to the field with his genitals flapping in the breeze. The subsequent photo of the police covering his bits with a helmet became iconic, and kickstarted all the UK sport streaks that followed. So novelty song and country singer-songwriter Ray Stevens’ opportunism paid off when he decided to immortalise streaking in song.

Before

Ray Stevens was born Harold Ray Ragsdale on 24 January 1939 in Clarkdale, Georgia. His love of music began with his first piano lessons, aged six. At 15 he formed an R’n’B band called The Barons, and three years later he enrolled in Georgia State University as a music major. That same year he released his first material as Ray Stevens on Capitol Records’ Prep Records, but his cover of Rang Tang Ding Dong sank without trace. Further material was released sporadically over the next few years.

In 1961, Stevens signed with Mercury Records and began to get noticed for his novelty songs. With titles like Jeremiah Peabody’s Polyunsaturated Quick-Dissolving Fast-Acting Pleasant-Tasting Green and Purple Pills, that was always likely. The politically incorrect Ahab the Arab was a number five hit in the US in 1962, and Harry the Hairy Ape reached number 17 the following year.

But Stevens also wanted to release serious country material too, and so he signed with Monument Records in 1968 and Mr Businessman followed, giving him his first US hit in five years. He also released the first version of Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down by Kris Kristofferson (later a hit for Johnny Cash). Novelty songs still could do well for him though, and Gitarzan reached number eight in 1969.

It was in 1970 that Stevens’ career went up a notch. He was working in Nashville when his gospel-tinged ballad Everything Is Beautiful, preaching against racism and extolling tolerance of others, became huge, topping the US charts and reaching number six in the UK – his chart debut over here. He kept on dabbling in novelty songs though, notably Bridget the Midget (The Queen of the Blues), a UK number two in 1971. Interesting to see how Stevens could preach about a better world in his country material, and then make cheap jokes in his comedy material… a sign of the times, perhaps.

Stevens was on a plane flicking through a magazine when he came across an article on streaking. He thought it would make a good idea for a comedy song and made some notes. Some time later, he woke up one morning and streaking was all over the news – 1973 and 74 were peak years in the US for the phenomenon. He quickly finished The Streak and recorded it ASAP for maximum topicality.

Review

The naked truth is, The Streak is dross. Over a hoedown-style backing, Stevens plays a news reporter interviewing a redneck (also Stevens) at various disturbances caused by ‘The Streak’. Despite the redneck shouting ‘Don’t look Ethel!’ every time the naked guy appears, Ethel has a gander, and by the end, she’s joined in the streaking. Do you think that sounds like a bad record? Try listening to it.

So many things annoy me about The Streak. The tacky production, the ‘boogity boogity’ backing vocal on the chorus, the kazoo, Stevens’ cliched characters, the childishness, the canned laughter. If you have to add canned laughter to point out where the jokes are on a comedy record, there’s something wrong. This makes Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West) and even My Ding-a-Ling look like high art by comparison. I can’t think of a single positive thing to say about it.

After

To be fair to Stevens, at least he wasn’t a one-trick pony. In 1975 he just missed out on another UK number 1 with a country cover of jazz standard Misty. Two years later, his final UK chart entry saw him cover Glenn Miller’s In the Mood in the style of a clucking chicken under the pseudonym Henhouse Five Plus Two. I listened to five seconds here and had to stop.

But I can just about forgive Stevens all this because in 1981 he sang Cannonball, the opening song to the celebrity-packed car chase film The Cannonball Run. It’s not just for nostalgia reasons either, this is a great song!

Stevens’ last serious album Me, was released in 1983. He’s concentrated on novelty material ever since. He opened his own theatre in Branson, Missouri in 1991 , which lasted two years, and he began selling videos to his old songs, The Streak among them (guess what, it’s awful). In 1996 he received thousands of sympathy cards after online news of the wrestler Ray ‘The Crippler’ Stevens confused fans. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1999, but he beat it and received a clean bill of health.

The Outro

Stevens’ love of comedy and videos found its natural home online on YouTube, where he posts cheap novelty songs with equally cheap videos declaring his outspoken political views. One I found, Obama Nation from 2012, slates the then-President. Abomination/Obama nation, get it? Hmm.

The Info

Written & produced by

Ray Stevens

Weeks at number 1

1 (15-21 June)

Trivia

Births

21 June: Radio presenter Natasha Desborough

Meanwhile…

15 June: The National Front clash with counter-protestors in London’s West End. The Red Lion Square disorders resulted in the death of 21-year-old Kevin Gateley, a university student.

17 June: A bomb explodes at London’s houses of Parliament, damaging Westminster Hall. The IRA claimed responsibility. 

323. Chuck Berry – My Ding-a-Ling (1972)

The Intro

As mentioned in my blog for Mouldy Old Dough, the UK seemed to be having a nervous breakdown as far as its number 1 singles are concerned in late-1972. Here’s further proof. Rock’n’roll pioneer Chuck Berry, one of the most influential guitarists in musical history, at the top of the charts for his one and only time with his nadir – a live recording of tawdry jokes about his penis.

Before

Charles Edward Anderson Berry was born 18 October 1926 in St Louis, Missouri. He grew up in the middle-class area known as the Ville. Berry was into music from an early age, and he gave his first public performance at Sumner High School in 1941. He was still a student there when he had his first of several run-ins with the law. In 1944 he was arrested for armed robbery after robbing three shops in Kansas City, Missouri. Berry was sent to a reformatory, where he spent his time learning to box and performing in a singing quartet. He was released on his 21st birthday in 1947.

Berry married a year later and became a father for the first time in 1950. To support his family he worked in car assembly factories and as a janitor, and he also trained to be a beautician. To help make ends meet he also played blues with local bands, and learnt riffs and tips on showmanship from T-Bone Walker. By 1953 he was performing in pianist Johnnie Johnson’s Trio, a relationship that endured, and would win over skeptical black audiences by playing country music, mixed in with ballads, blues and R&B. Soon white audiences were attending too.

Everything changed when Berry met Muddy Waters in 1955. The blues legend suggested Berry get in touch with Leonard Chess of Chess Records. Although he thought they may like his take on the blues, Chess loved his version of traditional tune Ida Red, which Berry called Maybellene. There is a strong argument for rock’n’roll beginning right here.

Classic after classic followed. In 1956 there was Roll Over Beethoven and You Can’t Catch Me (inspiration for The Beatles’ Come Together). In 1957, as rock’n’roll peaked, School Day (Ring! Ring! Goes the Bell), became his first chart hit in the UK. He went on tour that year with other greats including Buddy Holly and The Everly Brothers.

Berry’s classics kept coming for the rest of the 50s, including Rock and Roll Music, Sweet Little Sixteen, Johnny B. Goode and Memphis, Tennessee. For some reason, only Sweet Little Sixteen and Memphis, Tennessee charted over here – was this down to distribution problems? Whatever the reason, by the end of the decade he was a huge star, had starred in films, opened a racially integrated nightclub and invested in real estate. But in December 1959 he was arrested for alleged underage sex with a girl he had transported over state lines.

The 60s got off to a terrible start, with Berry sentenced in March 1960 to five years in prison. He appealed and claimed the judge was racist, but he was convicted again, and a further appeal failed. His last single before jail time was Come On in 1961, which became the first single by The Rolling Stones.

Fortunately for Berry, his release from prison in 1963 coincided with the rise of The Beatles, who covered his material, and The Beach Boys Surfin’ U.S.A. reworked Sweet Little Sixteen. Although he never reached the same commercial heights as the 50s again, there were still some great songs, and UK hits with No Particular Place to Go and You Never Can Tell in 1964. The latter of course is now best known for its use in 1994 Quentin Tarantino smash Pulp Fiction. After that his career went on the slide. He jumped ship to Mercury Records and earned a reputation for erratic live performances.

Berry returned to Chess in 1970 with the appropriately named LP Back Home. His album The London Chuck Berry Sessions was a mix of studio tracks and three live performances recorded on 3 February 1972 at the Lanchester Arts Festival in Coventry. Amazingly, the venue of the festival, the Locarno, was also the site of The Specials’ live EP Too Much Too Young The Special A.K.A. Live!, a number 1 in 1980. Berry was late for his slot, which annoyed headliners Pink Floyd as it meant they were an hour late for their set. In his band were guitarist Onnie McIntyre, drummer Robbie McIntosh, who went on to form Scottish funk outfit Average White Band, and bassist Nic Potter from prog-rockers Van Der Graaf Generator.

I’d thought in the past that My Ding-a-Ling was likely an off-the-cuff skit by Berry, but no, it’s an actual cover of a song by Dave Bartholomew, writer of many rock’n’roll hits including I Hear You Knocking, the Christmas number 1 by Dave Edmunds in 1970. Bartholomew released it first back in 1952. Berry first recorded it as My Tambourine in 1968.

Review

I of course was within my rights to think this was a skit, of course, because it’s bloody awful. Thankfully hacked down from over 11 minutes on the album, it may well be that Berry had no say in the release of this as a single, but whether it was him or Chess, what the hell made them think it was a good idea, and more to the point, why did the UK prove them right? An eager audience including Noddy Holder (Slade were one of the acts on earlier that day) lap up every minute of this Carry On-style ditty disguised as a playground rhyme. Believe me, I’m all for that type of humour at the right time, but this is just terrible. Perhaps there was just a lot of nostalgic affection for Berry at the time, with a rock’n’roll revival ongoing and bands like T. Rex paying respect?

And once again, it’s unavoidable to think of My Ding-a-Ling‘s lyrics without context, without thinking about all the light entertainment and pop stars since outed as paedophiles and Berry’s many misdemeanours with women… it makes jokes that weren’t funny to begin with even worse.

After

My Ding-a-Ling reached number 1 here and in the US, but thankfully it didn’t stick around long enough to reach the Christmas number 1 spot in 1972. Unfortunately it was beaten by an even worse song…

Another live track from the album, Reelin’ and Rockin’, was Berry’s final hit. He spent much of the 70s touring along with his Gibson guitar, relying on local bands wherever he went, which often did his reputation damage, but along the way, pre-fame Bruce Springsteen and Steve Miller were among those helping out. Springsteen later revealed Berry didn’t give the band a setlist and didn’t interact with them afterwards, but it didn’t stop him helping out again when Berry was entered into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995.

The ‘Father of Rock and Roll’ ended the decade with a gig at the White House for President Jimmy Carter in June 1979, but that year he was also sentenced to jail again – four months and 1,000 hours of community service for tax evasion.

The 80s saw Berry continue his one-man tours. In 1986, documentary Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll covered two concerts for his 60th birthday featuring Keith Richards, Eric Clapton and Etta James, among others. But he just couldn’t keep out of trouble. In 1987 Berry was charged with assaulting a woman at New York’s Gramercy Park Hotel. He pleaded guilty to harassment and paid a fine. Three years later, he was sued by women who claimed he had installed a video camera in the cubicle of his restaurant. Although his guilt wasn’t proven he opted to settle… with all 59 women. 59 women. During this scandal his home was raided and police found a huge stash of pornography, videos, slides and books, some of which appeared to show underage girls. The child abuse allegations were eventually dropped, and seem to have been largely forgotten in many of his obituaries.

In 2000, Johnson sued Berry, claiming he deserved co-writing credits on over 50 of his songs but the case was dismissed when the judge said too much time had passed. He continued to tour, and played festivals across the globe, but on New Year’s Day 2011 he passed out with exhaustion and had to be helped off stage.

On his 90th birthday in 2017 he announced he would be releasing his first new studio album since Rockit in 1979. Chuck featured his children Charles Berry Jr and Ingrid and was dedicated to his wife Toddy, who had remained all those years. It was to be his swansong, as Berry died of a cardiac arrest on 18 March. Chuck was released to critical acclaim two months later.

The Outro

Without Chuck Berry, who knows which direction pop would have gone in. He inspired some of the greatest musicians of all time, and his iconic duckwalk is fondly remembered. Sadly, he was also a sex offender and maybe a paedophile, and this lone number 1 really doesn’t help his legacy.

The Info

Written by

Dave Bartholomew

Producer

Esmond Edwards

Weeks at number 1

4 (25 November-22 December)

Births

30 November: Labour MP Dan Jarvis
6 December: Scientist Ewan Birney
12 December: Footballer Nicky Eaden
14 December: Comedian Miranda Hart/Actor Jonathan Slinger
20 December: Labour MP Sarah Jones
21 December: Labour MP Gloria De Piero

Deaths

28 November: Composer Havergal Brian
30 November: Scottish novelist Sir Compton Mackenzie
13 December: Writer LP Hartley