Is this where 80s pop music truly began? Much as David Bowie’s first number 1 Space Oddity bid farewell to the 60s, its sequel Ashes to Ashes saw ‘the Action Man’ put a full stop on his most experimental period, while future New Romantics took note.
Before
Not that his best-selling single achieved the top spot when the public first heard the tale of Major Tom in 1969. It was a 1975 reissue by RCA, released after his album Young Americans. Soon after the re-release came Golden Years, a bridge between the blue-eyed soul of the last LP and his next, which peaked at eight. But as great as the new material was, Bowie was becoming more and more addicted to cocaine. Weight was falling off his already slender body, he wasn’t sleeping, and his brain was flirting with an unhealthy interest in fascism.
All this and an upcoming starring role as an alien in an adaptation of The Man Who Fell to Earth resulted in his latest character, the Thin White Duke. He later claimed to have no memory of recording his next album. That one of his greatest albums, Station to Station, was the result, is insane. A brilliant mix of soul, funk, balladry and krautrock, this LP was another sign of what was to come – the so-called ‘Berlin Trilogy’.
Whether the ‘Victoria Station Incident’, where Bowie may or may not have greeted fans with a Nazi salute, happened or not, the controversy suggested the Thin White Duke was entering dangerous territory. However, his decision to move to West Berlin in 1976 along with partner-in-crime Iggy Pop was actually an attempt to get better. Working with Brian Eno and Tony Visconti, Bowie took his interest in krautrock further than before, and released Low, recorded in France, in 1977.
Despite Low’s reputation, there is still great pop amongst the ambient and experimental music within. Most explicitly, Sound and Vision, which despite the long instrumental opening and spacey sound, was catchy as hell, and became one of his bestselling 70s hits, reaching three, despite a distinct lack of promotion.
The next LP, “Heroes”, was the only full Bowie album actually recorded in Berlin. But although this time was fully on board with promoting his latest work, the title track, now rightly considered one of his greatest songs, surprisingly only got as far as 24. Now cleaner, if not 100% clean of drugs, Bowie was increasingly busy, touring the material from Low and “Heroes” and releasing a recording – Stage – in 1978, as well as narrating a recording of Peter and the Wolf.
Recorded in the latter stage of his Isolar II world tour, Lodger, released in 1979, ditched the ambient instrumentals of his previous Berlin Trilogy work, and was a mix of new wave and world music. Lodger is underrated, and features great material, including number seven hit Boys Keep Swinging.
In December 1979, Bowie, perhaps with the 10-year anniversary of Space Oddity in mind, re-recorded his 1975 number 1 for Will Kenny Everett Ever Make It to 1980? Show. Stripped down to acoustic guitar, bass, drums and piano, this sparse mix was released as a B-side to his insane cover of Alabama Song. Released in February 1980, somehow this single reached 23. Probably because of the novelty factor of an alternative version of Space Oddity, rather than the A-side.
Returning to Space Oddity got Bowie thinking. What happened to Major Tom, as that song faded away and Ground Control lost contact? In a promo interview for the subsequent album Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps), Bowie said ‘We come to him 10 years later and find the whole thing has soured, because there was no reason for putting him up there… The most disastrous thing I could think of is that he finds solace in some kind of heroin-type drug, actually cosmic space feeding him: an addiction. He wants to return to the womb from whence he came.’ Sound familiar? Bowie reached for the stars, got what he strived for, and ended up losing touch with himself, strung out in heaven’s high, hitting an all-time Low – literally.
Bowie was already reaching into his past for Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps). He was reworking old demos of unfinished songs. In 2022, the box set Divine Symmetry was released, featuring early Hunky Dory material and fragments of songs that he returned to nine years later. Tired of My Life became eventual album opener It’s No Game Pt 1, and 30 seconds into a track called King of the City, you can plainly hear what became the middle-eight of Ashes to Ashes. It’s a fascinating listen.
When the sessions for Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps) began at the Power Station in New York in February 1980, no lyrics existed for Ashes to Ashes, or People Are Turning to Gold, as it was called then, just lots of ‘la la las’. Interesting to wonder what the song would have become if this title had remained. The band assembled was the same as for his last four albums – Carlos Alomar on guitar, George Murray on bass and Dennis Davis on drums. Also contributing were pianist Roy Bittan from Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band – who were recording The River next door – and Chuck Hammer, who played guitar synthesiser.
While Alomar set to work playing reggae, and Murray put down a funky baseline with some slapping, Davis understandably struggled with the ska drumbeat Bowie envisioned. The singer demonstrated with a chair and cardboard box, which Davis learned and laid down the following day. Visconti originally wanted Bittan’s piano lines to be recorded on a Wurlitzer electric piano, but after discovering it would take too long to get hold of the instrument, he instead ran the grand piano through an Eventide Instant Flanger, which created that distinctive, wonky riff the rhythm is built around. Hammer, who had toured with Lou Reed and was hired for his inventive ‘guitarchitecture’, created and layered four different multi-track guitar textures, each receiving different treatments through an Eventide Harmoniser (which Visconti had famously claimed ‘fucks with the fabric of time’ for extra reverb.
So far, so good. So very, very good. But unlike his recent albums, where Bowie wrote the lyrics often immediately after the backing tracks, he took his time on Scary Monsters(and Super Creeps). The band reconvened in April at Visconti’s Good Earth Studios in London. Visconti added additional percussion, plus keyboard parts by session keyboardist Andy Clark. Everyone involved knew they had something special upon completion, and it was inevitable this would be the lead single from the LP.
Review
Bowie wrote lots of great music after Ashes to Ashes, but it’s most probably his final absolute classic, in effect waving goodbye to a decade of startling creativity. In his excellent Bowie blog, Pushing Ahead of the Dame, Chris O’Leary has a very good point in calling it his last song. It’s a dark nursery rhyme, full of strange phrasing, vocal lines, and imagery, all underpinned by quirky, infectious groove. ‘Do you remember a guy that’s been/In such an early song?’ is an odd opening gambit for the listener. But it’s only the start, as Ground Control reveals the rumour is true: ‘They got a message from the action man’. And while ‘I’m happy, hope you’re happy too’ bodes well, the lyrics get murkier, but make it clear that Major Tom needs bringing down to earth….
‘The shrieking of nothing is killing, just Pictures of Jap girls in synthesis and I Ain’t got no money and I ain’t got no hair But I’m hoping to kick but the planet it’s glowing’
What surreal, bleak imagery, and a bridge like no other in the annals of number 1s. What makes it all the more remarkable is how it sounds – Bowie’s deadpan intonation sounds in danger of causing the already complex tune to fall apart. And underneath, ghostly backing vocals, possibly repeating Major Tom, it’s hard to tell at this point.
The almost comical moroseness of the chorus, masked in a creepy nursery rhyme, of course, totally hits the spot, and you can’t help but think of Major Tom, floating in a tin can, and the mirror image of Bowie, weighing six-stone, living off cocaine and milk and dabbling with the occult, as he was in the mid-70s, when Space Oddity was at the top of the hit parade.
Things get even weirder in the second verse, with Bowie’s chilling falsetto revealing that Major Tom can’t beat his addiction. ‘But the little green wheels are following me/Oh no, not again’ – what a ridiculous, sublime way to detail drug dependency.
In the next bridge, Bowie’s ‘valuable friend’ is louder, and it’s apparent he is just repeating himself, right down to the deadpan ‘Woh-o-woh’. It’s just occurred to me that ‘out of the blue’ could be taken literally – that Major Tom, since swapping the blue sky of Earth for the stars, has been content to live as a junkie, and essentially done nothing since he ‘really made the grade’.
I forget where, but someone once pointed out that ‘Wanna come down right now’ signifies Bowie’s need to figuratively get back to living clean but also signposts his 80s direction as a relatively straight-edge pop superstar. Whether it was intentional or not, it’s a very good point.
As Ashes to Ashes descends into malevolent childish chanting of its close, and the already amazing production breaks out into ghostly synths, you can picture Major Tom’s ship either flirting further out into the outer reaches of space, or landing back on home soil, a broken man inside, but one that can be saved?
David Mallet’s groundbreaking video, recorded over three days in May, was the most expensive ever at that point. It remains one of the most costly, with Bowie storyboarding and dictating the editing process. The use of a Quantel Paintbox, soon to be used extensively in film and TV, creates a ghostly alien world of black sky and pink ocean at Beachy Head and Hastings. Bowie is three characters, clown, astronaut and asylum inmate, all of which represent aspects of his past as a mime and, well, the other two are obvious, all things considered. The scenes of Bowie in his spacesuit were deliberately designed to reflect HR Giger’s incredible work in Alien, released the year before.
While such futurism looks charmingly dated now, a less distant future is also on show, with Steve Strange of Visage walking with Bowie along the sand, as a bulldozer menacingly creeps up behind them. Fellow Blitz Kids Marilyn and Boy George were passed over. If you haven’t heard Bowie superfan Adam Buxton’s telling of a charming anecdote about the filming of this scene, check it out here.
After
The album mix of Ashes to Ashes was edited down from 4:23 to 3:35 for the single release, which could be bought in three different picture sleeves, which each contained a sheet of adhesive stamps of Bowie in his Pierrot costume. The variety of ways to buy may well have contributed to its success in the UK, where it became Bowie’s second number 1 for a fortnight in late summer after debuting at four.
Live performances of Ashes to Ashes were rare through the years, which, considering its complexity, is understandable.
Major Tom did return briefly to the charts in 1996, courtesy of the Pet Shop Boys remix of Hallo Spaceboy. Initially reticent when told of their plan, he agreed it worked well upon hearing their disco take on the track from 1.Outside.
The video to Ashes to Ashes remains one of the most influential examples of the medium, and everyone sat up and took notice as to what could be done. Music videos may have existed since the 60s, but in the MTV age, they were about to be ubiquitous.
The Outro
Ashes to Ashes was sampled in Samantha Mumba’s top five hit Body II Body in 2000, and again by James Murphy for his remix of Bowie’s own Love Is Lost in 2013. It was also the name of the BBC’s sequel to police drama Life on Mars.
In late-2015, the surreal video to Bowie’s penultimate single in his lifetime, Blackstar, featured a dead astronaut, discovered by a woman with a tail. She takes his jewel-encrusted skull to a strange alien town, where a circle of women perform a ritual while the astronaut’s bones float towards a solar eclipse. Director Johan Renck said after Bowie’s death he believed the astronaut was meant to be Major Tom.
The Info
Written by
David Bowie
Producers
David Bowie & Tony Visconti
Weeks at number 1
2 (23 August-5 September)
Trivia
Births
23 August: Actress Joanne Froggatt 28 August: Chef Rachel Khoo 4 September: Football coach Michael Beale
Deaths
24 August: Actress Yootha Joyce/Linguist Gerard Shelley 26 August: Olympic swimmer Lucy Morton 27 August: Suffragette Arabella Scott 28 August: Academic Roy Pascal 31 August: Writer Anne Tibble 1 September: Film director Arthur Greville Collins 3 September: Surgeon Russell Brock, Baron Brock/Physician Sir George Pickering
Meanwhile…
28 August: For the first time since 1935, unemployment stands at 2 million.
1 September: Ford launches the third generation Escort, which later becomes the best-selling car of the decade in Britain.
I’ve been blogging my reviews of all the UK number 1s in order for four months now, and have reached the end of 1957. Despite not being a fan of 50s music in general (maybe that’s a bit harsh, I should say I’m not too knowledgeable about it), I’ve found it more interesting than expected. Hopefully, some of the readers I’ve gathered are enjoying it too.
Anyway, I decided a nice addition for Christmas would be to work my way through every Christmas number 1 to date. Now, I love music, and I’m also fond of Christmas, so initially it sounds like a no-brainer. However, Christmas number 1s are a complete wild card. No matter the decade, no matter your musical taste, it would be impossible to enjoy them all. Indeed, after a first glance, I realised there are far fewer festive songs than you’d maybe expect. From children’s songs, to rock’n’roll and psychedelic classics, to total, utter dross, the Christmas number 1 offers examples of the mammoth highs and terrible lows of pop music over the last 65 years. And although sadly pop is no longer the cultural force it once was, the Christmas number 1 is still considered important. So much so, they even bring Top of the Pops back especially for it.
So, 69 songs (if a number 1 was a double A-side, I’ve included both), 4 hours and 15 minutes of seasonal chart-toppers, broken down into decisions on the best and worst of each decade, and then one overall winner. With two young children in my house, it would be impossible to take on this task in one sitting. So I decided to do it while working my day job, which today is working on, appropriately enough, the Christmas TV listings for TV Times. I think I already know which song will win out. Let’s see if I’m right…
The 50s
The 50s songs went by in a blur. This could be because I started listening at 7.30 in the morning and didn’t have enough caffeine in me, but it’s also because the charts didn’t start until 1952, and most tracks were pretty concise back then. In fact the first ever Christmas number 1 was the first ever chart-topper – Al Martino’s Here in My Heart. With pop music in its infancy, the yuletide number 1 wasn’t yet an event, and there wasn’t a festive-themed chart-topper until crooner Dickie Valentine’s Christmas Alphabet in 1955, which is a slight but charming enough number. You could perhaps argue Winifred Atwell had kicked things off the year previous, with the piano knees-up Let’s Have Another Party – it contained a snatch of When the Red Red Robin. Harry Belafonte’s Mary’s Boy Child in 1957 was the last explicitly Christmas song to reign until Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody, 16 years later.
Elvis-mania changed pop forever and rock’n’roll ruled the roost in the late 50s. For me, this is where music started to get interesting, so it’s probably no coincidence that one of my favourites of the 50s was the last – Emile Ford and the Checkmates’ clever and cocky What Do You Want to Make Those Eyes at Me For? (1959), later covered by Shakin’ Stevens.
The Best:
Johnnie Ray –Just Walkin‘ in the Rain (1956): One of rock’n’roll’s pioneers, the eccentric, troubled ‘Mr Emotion’ sang this melancholic yet strangely cheery song written by two men languishing in prison. It’s not seasonal in the slightest, it’s just a great song by an influential but under-appreciated talent. One listen and you won’t be able to resist whistling the refrain. I can’t whistle, but this is one of the few times I wished I could.
The Worst:
Frankie Laine with Paul Weston & His Orchestra – Answer Me (1953): The hardest part of blogging about many of those early number 1s was wading through the sea of near-identical overwrought ballads. The majority of them leave me cold, and despite Frankie being able to hold a note well, this did nothing for me. Hilariously, the BBC banned it at the time due to the then-shocking mention of God in the lyrics, which only increased its sales. The BBC clearly never learnt its lesson, as this wasn’t the last time this happened to a future number 1.
The 60s
Pop music evolved at a mind-blowing rate and came of age during this decade. Obviously the 60s were dominated by the best group of all time, The Beatles, and they also hold the record for most festive number 1s to date, with four in total – I Want to Hold Your Hand (1963), I Feel Fine (1964), Day Tripper/We Can Work it Out (1965) and Hello Goodbye (1967). Never anything but a pleasure to listen to, John, Paul, George and Ringo played a large part in making this decade’s list pretty darn enjoyable. The classic Moon River, sang by Danny Williams, topped the charts in 1961, and Elvis also got a look-in, with one of his better tracks – Return to Sender, in 1962.
In the latter half of the decade, children’s records grew in popularity, and were obviously going to sell well in December, beginning the trend for novelty Christmas number 1s. The Scaffold’s Lily the Pink (1968) may be irritating but served it’s purpose, and my five-year-old seemed to love it recently. More problematic is Rolf Harris’s Two Little Boys in 1969. Finding out what a pervert Rolf Harris was, under everybody’s radar, for so long was like finding out there’s no such thing as Father Christmas, yet this tune seems somehow still strangely moving, and now sadder than ever, because he’s bloody ruined it for everyone.
The Best:
The Beatles – Hello Goodbye (1967): It was always going to be a Beatles song. I did struggle between Day Tripper and Hello Goodbye, though. Despite the former’s killer riff, I decided to go with the latter, as I’m a sucker for most psychedelic 60s stuff. Although it’s not the Fab Four’s best example of pyschedelia, I love it’s joyous simplicity, and especially the singalong at the end, which is lie-affirming pop at its best. I also think it would make for a hilarious funeral song.
The Worst:
Cliff Richard and The Shadows – I Love You (1960): Look at that title, it’s as generic as it gets, which at least sets the scene for the song itself. Tepid, basic and very forgettable, it’s no wonder it’s been largely forgotten. Cliff of course became a festive staple in the 80s. Whatever you might think of his later yuletide tunes, you’d find it difficult to argue that they’re not better than this.
The 70s
It was in this decade that the idea of the Christmas Number 1 really became an event, beginning with Slade and Wizzard’s battle for best festive anthem in 1973. An honourable mention for fellow glam rockers Mud’s Elvis tribute Lonely This Christmas (1974) – always had a soft spot for that one. Benny Hill’s children’s song Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West) in 1971 was deceptively filthy – I’ve never realised just how smutty the lyrics were until today (although to be fair I probably haven’t heard it in full since I was about seven).
Several ‘classics’ also hit the top, and having long since grown bored of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody (1975), I was impressed by it for the first time in years. It’s complexity and sheer oddness really made it stand out during my mammoth listen, and I didn’t mind hearing it again once I reached the songs of the 90s (it was of course reissued following Freddie Mercury’s death in 1991). Wings’ Mull of Kintyre (the biggest single of the decade) seems to be either loved or hated – I just think it’s alright – but who remembers it was actually a double A-side, along with the long-forgotten rocker Girls School (which fared far better in the US) in 1977? Mary’s Boy’s Boy Child – Oh My Lord (1978) saw Boney M cover Belafonte’s 1957 tune, livening it up but increasing the tackiness tenfold.
I find it hilarious and brilliant that Pink Floyd’s dark disco classic Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2) was 1979’s festive bestseller. I don’t know about you, but nothing says Christmas more than a choir of children singing ‘We don’t need no education/We don’t need no thought control’ with an air of menace.
The Best:
Slade – Merry Xmas Everybody (1973): Overfamiliarity hasn’t dimmed my love of Noddy bellowing ‘IT’S CHRRIISSSTTTMMMAAASSS!’, and although I sometimes think I prefer Wizzard’s I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday, it was Slade that won out back then, so it was Slade I heard today, finally bringing some yuletide cheer back into my rundown, and doing it with such wit and a tune that still holds up so well. I think the fact the production doesn’t labour the festive theme, unlike some of the songs yet to come, only adds to its brilliance.
The Worst:
Jimmy Osmond – Long Haired Lover from Liverpool (1972): Jesus Christ. That’s the only thing I can say about this that’s remotely festive, but it’s not meant as a compliment. I know the Osmonds were huge back then but I fail to see how anyone ever found this remotely appealing. It’s memorable I guess, but so is a bout of diarrhoea. My ears were genuinely pained when Jimmy hit the high notes, and it seemed to go on forever.
The 80s
I was born in 1979, so it’s this decade that takes me back to Christmas as a child. One of my earliest memories is of clutching my copy of Do They Know It’s Christmas? (1984) in the playground before taking it to a school Christmas disco, aged five. A landmark moment in music, it was of course the start of charity singles gunning for the all-important top spot, and it’s a classic, but it’s controversially not even in my top two 80s number 1s. And the less said about the Stock, Aitken and Waterman-produced Band Aid II version (1989), the better. I wondered why it had been airbrushed from history and I was only 20 seconds in before realising why. It’s total crap.
The quality of the number 1s really jumped about in the 80s, particularly the first half. Special mention must go to The Human League’s electro classic Don’t You Want Me (1981). I really struggled to decide whether this was my 80s favourite, or the one that just pipped it to the post. It may not be seasonal in the slightest, but I’m not purely judging these singles on festive merit, which is why Do They Know It’s Christmas?, the highest-selling festive chart-topper of all time, isn’t the winner.
Warm memories of the reissue of Jackie Wilson’s Reet Petite in 1986, originally from 1956, were rekindled. And although it’s terrible, I found myself amused by Renée and Renato’s Save Your Love (1982), because it’s damn funny and it reminded me of the Kenny Everett spoof. Plus I think my mind might have started unravelling by this point. You can certainly argue that Cliff Richard’s Mistletoe and Wine is tacky shit, but nostalgia can really affect critical judgement, so I won’t be agreeing, sorry.
The Best:
Pet Shop Boys – Always on My Mind (1987): I feel this may be a controversial choice due to it having nothing to do with Christmas, and the fact it kept Fairytale of New York from number 1, but I picked it because it’s bloody brilliant, and for me, this cover of the ballad made famous by Elvis gets better with age. Taking a great song, transforming it and improving upon it is no easy task, but Nick Tennant and Chris Lowe did so without any of their usual irony, simply turning it into a disco juggernaut. There’s no wonder it often finds itself in the upper reaches of lists of best cover versions of all time. Joss Ackland didn’t half used to scare me in the video, though.
The Worst:
St Winifred’s School Choir – There’s No One Quite Like Grandma (1980): Like Pet Shop Boys, this kept a festive classic off the top, namely Jona Lewie’s excellent Stop the Cavalry. However, unlike Pet Shop Boys, it’s wretched. And did a nation coming to terms with the murder of John Lennon really pick this over reissues of his work? A perfect example of Christmas chart insanity, like Long Haired Lover from Liverpool before it, this grates big time. And yet, I’d still take it over some of the ‘serious’ work that’s yet to come…
The 90s
The Christmas number 1s of the late 80s had marked the turning point, in which the standard began to fall, with occasional exceptions. I knew this before beginning my foolhardy task, but failed to appreciate how painful the job was going to become. Cliff had his third and final appearance to date (he was part of Band Aid II) with the execrable Saviour’s Day (1990) (The pan pipes! Not the pan pipes!), in which he came up with his own, duller version of Christmas. No thanks, Cliff, we’re happy with mistletoe and wine. Queen pared up Freddie Mercury’s farewell, These Are the Days of Our Lives, with a reissue of 1975’s Bohemian Rhapsody (1991), and I was tempted to award the best of the decade to the latter, but in the end it seemed unfair to let it have two chances.
By this point in my youth I was starting to develop my own tastes, and my music snobbery had begun. I hated the seemingly eternal reign of Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You back in 1992, and it didn’t do much for me in 2017 either. I did appreciate Houston’s singing more than I used to, though. It’s the production that kills it. Mr Blobby (1993)… this track came up more than any other when I told people what I would be doing, as though this would be the ultimate form of torture. You know what? It wasn’t. I genuinely found myself laughing at it. The people behind it were sick geniuses, throwing every trick in the book to seemingly irritate and infuriate anyone who didn’t watch Noel’s House Party. In fact, after rehearing it, I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if one day it turned out to be yet another prank by twisted geniuses The KLF. Just as insane in it’s own way was Michael Jackson’s Earth Song in 1995. Fair play to the self-proclaimed ‘King of Pop’ for trying to highlight the damage humans have done to the world, but heavily implying he was some kind of Messiah-like figure while doing so was a bit daft.
Who would have thought that East 17 would be one of the decade’s few Christmas highlights with Stay Another Day (1994)? Then and now I found the Walthamstow gang ridiculous, but I have to hand it to songwriter Tony Mortimer, Stay Another Day is a great song, especially when you know it was written about his brother, who committed suicide. Poor old troubled Brian Harvey sings it well, too. He veers out of tune at times, but that fits perfectly in the context of this song. I admire the chutzpah of tacking on bells at the end, but it’s a shame it was then adopted by seemingly every other boy band aiming for a number 1 on 25 December.
The Best:
Spice Girls – 2 Become 1 (1996): I have an inkling this may also be a controversial choice, mainly for people who know me. Back in the day I claimed to hate the Spice Girls. I was a huge Britpop fan and I blamed them for ruining pop music by not being ‘for real’. It didn’t occur to me that many guitar-bands were running out of steam, or becoming so experimental, they were never going to maintain their followings. Now I’m nearly 40, I’m less concerned with whether a song is ‘cool’ or not, and grudgingly admit the early Spice Girls singles were great pop songs. You have to make room for love ballads at Christmas, and 2 Become 1 is a great example of one. I’ve even been known to listen to it outside of Christmas. And you have to admire the fact it gets a cheeky reference to wearing a condom in there. Their next two yuletide number 1s, Too Much (1997) and Goodbye (1998), were tosh, though.
The Worst:
Westlife – I Have a Dream/Seasons in the Sun (1999): This was the easiest choice to make by far. I hated Westlife for being the final number 1 ‘artists’ of the 20th century. Was this really what the last 50 years of pop had been leading up to?! Time has certainly not changed my mind. I’d forgotten this was coming up so soon, and as the Irish boy band’s tepid cover of ABBA’s I Have a Dream began, I wanted to punch my ears. Only problem is, that would have pushed my earphones further down my now long-suffering hearing vessels, and thus increasing the torture. The next two or three minutes were vacuous, contemptible, cynical pap, but at least it would soon be over. Fuck! It’s a double-A-side! And they’ve had a go at a song about dying! I think Seasons in the Sun is actually even worse! This single only deserves to be the final number 1 of the millennium because it signposts the downward trajectory in quality and worth of the charts in the 21st century to date. But I’d rather listen to There’s No One Quite Like Grandma than ever suffer these two songs again.
The 00s
Before Simon Cowell did irreparable damage to December’s charts with the X Factor, there were a few more years of oddities. At 21, I had no time for Bob the Builder’s Can We Fix It? back in 2000, but coming after Westlife in my marathon listen, it was actually easy on the ears. It’s quite funny to think Neil Morrissey has had a number 1 with a dance anthem. Robbie Williams & Nicole Kidman’s Something Stupid (2001) seemed rather pointless, then and now. Girls Aloud had won Popstars: The Rivals in 2002, and Sound of the Underground still sounds like one of the few reality show songs that wasn’t a power ballad put together by a committee. Perhaps if talent show winners were still releasing songs like this, The X Factor wouldn’t finally be dying a slow death.
Michael Andrew and Gary Jules’s haunting cover of Tears For Fears’ Mad World (from the film Donnie Darko) seemed an appropriate choice after the conflict in Iraq in 2003, but strikes me as simply too downbeat now. Easily the most depressing track in the collection. The 20th anniversary of Do They Know It’s Christmas? brought about yet another version, and while Band Aid 20’s cover is better than Band Aid II, it goes on way too long and sounds too earnest. Speaking of earnest…
The second series of The X Factor in 2005 was where the Christmas charts were first hijacked. The next five years were wall-to-wall Cowell. Manufactured MOR with a revolving door of singers, some who have long since been forgotten about. Alexandra Burke’s Hallelujah (2008) was the only remotely memorable one, and that’s undoubtedly due to me loving Jeff Buckley’s version of the Leonard Cohen classic, which was that year’s runner-up.
The Best:
Rage Against the Machine – Killing in the Name (2009): By the close of the 00s, some record buyers had had enough of Cowell’s dominance. Beginning an internet campaign which quickly snowballed, Zack de la Rocha and co’s rap-metal call for revolution from 1992 was the perfect antidote to yet another lightweight pop ballad. After suffering so much tripe beforehand I was on the verge of shouting ‘THANK FUCK’ in the middle of the office. Although it wasn’t the end of X Factor number 1s, Rage Against the Machine had inflicted serious damage to their stranglehold of the charts.
The Worst:
Leon Jackson – When You Believe (2007): Jackson won the fourth series of the X Factor with this cover of a power ballad sung by Whitney Houston & Mariah Carey for the animation The Prince of Egypt in 1998. Dreary and tedious, it’s a throwback to some of the very first number 1s of the early 1950s and the worst X Factor Christmas number 1. I don’t think Jackson has been seen since – another victim of Cowell’s ruthlessness.
The 10s
Rage Against Machine had given the list a much-needed kick up the arse, but I don’t think it was just the potential lethargy my ears were suffering that caused the remaining tracks to be a tough listen. In addition to further X Factor tracks, charity singles became very popular once more, beginning with Wherever You Are by Military Wives with Gareth Malone in 2011. Lewisham and Greenwich NHS Choir’s A Bridge over You (2015) was along similar lines, combining Simon and Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water and Coldplay’s Fix You. I don’t want to belittle charity singles, but the combination of these and yet more talent show winners made for a very musically uninspiring final few tracks.
Some potential hope for the future came with the last song of all. Rockabye (2016), by Clean Bandit featuring Sean-Paul and Anne-Marie, broke the malaise that had set in and was simply a modern pop song by a young group, just like in the old days. It didn’t do much for me personally, but pop should primarily be for the young, not a man who’s nearly 40, so fair play to them. Here’s hoping there’s further life in the charts for years to come.
The Best:
The Justice Collective – He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother (2012): Adopting the Band Aid approach and featuring an all-star cast of musicians and celebrities, The Justice Collective was assembled by Peter Hooton of The Farm, in order to raise money for various charities associated with the Hillsborough disaster. Covering the classic Hollies track was an inspired choice, and it would be difficult to not be moved by this, whatever your thoughts on charity songs.
The Worst:
Matt Cardle – When We Collide (2010): Shock, horror – it’s another X Factor song! Matt Cardle won the seventh series and released a cover of rock band Biffy Clyro’s Many of Horror and renamed it, for some reason. That’s the most interesting thing I can say about this leaden waste of time.
The Best UK Christmas Number 1 Ever is…
Slade – Merry Xmas Everybody (1973): I predicted this would win beforehand, but I didn’t predict just how many non-festive songs it would be up against, so Noddy, Dave, Don and Jim almost won by default. That’s not to take anything away from their win though. If it wasn’t for their chart battle with Wizzard, would the Christmas number 1 be the annual event it still is today? Possibly not. Back in 1973, the UK was going through a rough ride, with strikes and power cuts, and Merry Xmas Everybody brought some light back into (literally) dark times. 44 years later, we need this song more than ever.
The Worst UK Christmas Number 1 Ever is…
Westlife – I Have a Dream/Seasons in the Sun (1999): I think I made my feelings on this clear earlier, but even thinking about the damage it did to my ears is making me angry all over again. Pop music at it’s very dreariest, and far more offensive than any of the novelty hits I’ve had to suffer. I expected my lowest-rated song to be from the X Factor conveyor belt, but I feel some degree of sympathy towards those artists involved. It’s the man behind them that’s the true villain of chart music.
The Outro
Well, that was quite an experience. Yes, you could argue putting myself through every Christmas number 1, only to ultimately rediscover my love for Slade and hatred for Westlife, was pointless, but, despite my forlorn face above, and lots of moaning within this feature, it’s made for a fascinating experience. Tracing the Christmas number 1s from the inception of the charts has been like following the history of pop itself, which is after all what this site is all about. And no number 1 single better captures the eccentricities of the record-buying public than the Christmas number 1, throwing some real curveballs in there. Of course, listening to a history of pop like this has highlighted how far chart music has fallen over the last few decades. But there is still some hope for the future. And while this four-hour-plus experience has left me somewhat scarred, I’m already wondering if next year I should make my way through every UK Christmas number 2… Maybe I have developed a form of musical Stockholm Syndrome?
Of course, everyone’s entitled to an opinion… why not tell me yours? Feel free to shout me down and leave a comment in the box below the list.
Every UK Christmas Number 1 (1952-2016)
1952: Al Martino – Here in My Heart 1953: Frankie Laine with Paul Weston & His Orchestra – Answer Me 1954: Winifred Atwell & Her ‘Other’ Piano – Let’s Have Another Party 1955: Dickie Valentine with Johnny Douglas & His Orchestra – Christmas Alphabet 1956: Johnnie Ray – Just Walkin’ in the Rain 1957: Harry Belafonte – Mary’s Boy Child 1958: Conway Twitty: It’s Only Make Believe 1959: Emile Ford and the Checkmates – What Do You Want to Make Those Eyes at Me For? 1960: Cliff Richard and The Shadows – I Love You 1961: Danny Williams – Moon River 1962: Elvis Presley – Return to Sender 1963: The Beatles – I Want to Hold Your Hand 1964: The Beatles – I Feel Fine 1965: The Beatles – Day Tripper/We Can Work It Out 1966: Tom Jones: Green Green Grass of Home 1967: The Beatles – Hello Goodbye 1968: The Scaffold – Lily the Pink 1969: Rolf Harris – Two Little Boys 1970: Dave Edmunds – I Hear You Knocking 1971: Benny Hill – Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West) 1972: Donny Osmond – Long Haired Lover from Liverpool 1973: Slade – Merry Xmas Everybody 1974: Mud – Lonely This Christmas 1975: Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody 1976: Johnny Mathis – When a Child Is Born (Soleado) 1977: Wings – Mull of Kintyre/Girls School 1978: Boney M – Mary’s Boy Child – Oh My Lord 1979: Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2) 1980: St Winifred’s School Choir – There’s No One Quite Like Grandma 1981: The Human League – Don’t You Want Me 1982: Renée and Renato – Save Your Love 1983: The Flying Pickets – Only You 1984: Band Aid – Do They Know It’s Christmas? 1985: Shakin’ Stevens – Merry Christmas Everyone 1986: Jackie Wilson – Reet Petite 1987: Pet Shop Boys – Always on My Mind 1988: Cliff Richard – Mistletoe and Wine 1989: Band Aid II – Do They Know It’s Christmas? 1990: Cliff Richard – Saviour’s Day 1991: Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody/These Are the Days of Our Lives 1992: Whitney Houston – I Will Always Love You 1993: Mr Blobby – Mr Blobby 1994: East 17 – Stay Another Day 1995: Michael Jackson – Earth Song 1996: Spice Girls – 2 Become 1 1997: Spice Girls – Too Much 1998: Spice Girls – Goodbye 1999: Westlife – I Have a Dream/Seasons in the Sun 2000: Bob the Builder – Can We Fix It? 2001: Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman – Something Stupid 2002: Girls Aloud – Sound of the Underground 2003: Michael Andrews and Gary Jules – Mad World 2004: Band Aid 20: Do They Know It’s Christmas? 2005: Shayne Ward – That’s My Goal 2006: Leona Lewis – A Moment Like This 2007: Leon Jackson – When You Believe 2008: Alexandra Burke – Hallelujah 2009: Rage Against the Machine – Killing in the Name Of 2010: Matt Cardle – When We Collide 2011: Military Wives with Gareth Malone – Wherever You Are 2012: The Justice Collective – He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother 2013: Sam Bailey – Skyscraper 2014: Ben Haenow – Something I Need 2015: Lewisham and Greenwich NHS Choir – A Bridge Over You 2016: Clean Bandit featuring Sean Paul and Anne-Marie – Rockabye
