271. Tommy Roe – Dizzy (1969)

By 1969 the kids that were caught up in Beatlemania were outgrowing pop singles. Thanks to the Fab Four, and their contemporaries, albums had replaced singles as the music art form for young adults. Record labels recognised this and pumped money into LPs.

All this left something of a void, and you only have to look at some of the number 1s from the last two years to see that. One genre making waves in the singles chart was ‘bubblegum pop’, largely an invention by labels eager to fill a void. If the teenagers and beyond were mainly buying albums now, then that left a whole new generation to be persuaded into buying pop singles. Bubblegum pop songs tended to be short and upbeat. Gone were overt drug references. Producers were often in charge, churning out material by an assembly line of acts backed by session musicians. One of the most successful of 1969 was an American whose first hit was back in 1962.

Thomas Roe was born in May 1942 in Atlanta, Georgia. Upon graduating, he went to work for General Electric, where he soldered wires. By 1960 he had become Tommy Roe, and unusually, his first album was split between him and another singer, hence the name Whirling with Tommy Roe and Al Tornello. On the album were his first two singles, Caveman and Sheila, in which Roe mimicked the vocal stylings of Buddy Holly. Neither charted.

However, two years later, the latter was re-recorded, made the title track of his first full album, and became a resounding success. It topped the charts in the US, Canada and Australia, and reached number three in the UK. ABC-Paramount asked him to go on tour to promote it, but he was reluctant to give up his day job until they gave him an advance.

The Beatles were fans of Sheila, and began covering it. In early 1963, they supported Roe and Chris Montez on their joint headlining tour. The New Musical Express reported that both singers were being upstaged by John, Paul, George and Ringo. He had two further UK hits later that year – Everybody and The Folk Singer. Roe decided to move to London, but the Beat boom was happening so fast, he couldn’t keep up, and there were no further chart appearances on these shores, even though Sweet Pea and Hooray for Hazel did well elsewhere in 1966.

Then came Dizzy. Roe had co-written this pop tune about budding love with Freddy Weller, guitarist with US rock band Paul Revere & the Raiders. Weller had ambitions to be a solo artist, and around this time he released his debut single, a cover of Joe South’s Games People Play. Top US session musicians the Wrecking Crew provided the backing on Dizzy, including the late, great Hal Blaine on drums.

I adore Dizzy. But not this version. The first single I ever bought on cassette was the number 1 cover in 1991 by my favourite comedian at the time, Vic Reeves, with Brummie indie outfit the Wonder Stuff.

Roe’s Dizzy is a rare instance of an original being worse than a cover. I was so disappointed to hear a slight, awkward attempt at psychedelic pop, that is, by comparison, terribly leaden. Very odd for the Wrecking Crew to sound so dull. It has a slightly sickly feeling to it, making the title rather appropriate. Everything is slightly off, apart from Jimmie Haskell’s string arrangement, which was neatly copied in 1991.

Amazingly, six years after being upstaged, Roe got his revenge, and he knocked the Beatles from the top spot, and Dizzy went to pole position in the US and Canada too. Despite its weirdness, it was catchy enough to capture the public’s imagination after all. And yet, after one week, he was knocked off his perch by… the bloody Beatles.

Although Roe continued to have hits elsewhere, his chart action in the UK was soon over once more. Eventually he ended up on the nostalgia circuit with acts like Bobby Vee. In the late-1970s and 80s he moved into releasing country material.

Roe’s final album, Confectioner’s, was released in 2017. He announced his retirement on his Facebook page in 2018.

Written by: Tommy Roe & Freddy Weller

Producer: Steve Barri

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

266. Amen Corner – (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice (1969)

17 years after the New Musical Express began the first singles chart, an official version finally appeared, the week commencing 12 February 1969. The BBC and Record Retailer (the music industry publication whose chart tends to be recognised as ‘official’ from 1960 up to this point) commissioned the British Market Research Bureau to compile it, therefore ending arguments over which chart people should follow. The BMRB’s first chart was compiled from postal returns from sales logs of 250 shops, randomly chosen from a pool of approximately 6,000. The logs were then translated into punch cards which would be translated by a computer. The computer would compile the chart each Monday, and the BBC were informed of the top 50 each Tuesday, in time for it to be announced on Johnnie Walker’s Radio 1 afternoon show.

This means (I think) that the first 100% ‘official’ UK number 1 single was Amen Corner’s (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice. Which is the most interesting thing about this minor blog entry.

This Welsh seven-piece (okay, that’s pretty unusual, too) had formed in Cardiff in late 1966. They consisted of singer Andy Fairweather Low, guitarist Neil Jones, saxophonist Allan Jones, keyboardist Derek ‘Blue’ Weaver and tenor saxophonist Mike Smith, with bassist Clive Taylor and drummer Dennis Byron also performing backing vocals.

They took their name from The Amen Corner, a weekly US soul music night at Cardiff’s Victoria Ballroom each Sunday. Originally Amen Corner performed blues and jazz-influenced tunes, but after signing with Deram Records they were steered towards a more commercial sound. Nevertheless their debut single was a cover of blues track Gin House Blues, which went in at number 12.

It was their third single in 1968 that really caught the public eye. Their version of the Outsiders’ Bend Me, Shape Me became the most popular UK release, getting all the way to number three. That year they also released debut album Round Amen Corner. At the end of 1968 they jumped ship to Immediate Records, and recorded (If Paradise Is) Half As Nice.

Their fifth single was originally written by influential Italian singer-songwriter Lucio Battisti for La Ragazza 77, aka Ambra Borelli. Il paradiso della vita translated as ‘The paradise of the life’. Jack Fishman translated it into English and renamed it to the song we know today. It was originally offered to the Tremeloes, who rejected it, and the Dave Clark Five showed an interest, but Amen Corner took it to number 1.

(If Paradise Is) Half As Nice peaks far too soon. The ‘la la la’ intro is lovely, and jumping into a memorable chorus early on often guarantees success, but it’s downhill after that first blast of brass. At least, I think it is. I can’t really remember, and that’s my point, really. Fairweather Low’s vocal is reedy and rather weak, and gets irritating quickly. He starts so high he’s soon straining and doesn’t know where to go. Also, I take issue with the chorus lyrics. ‘If paradise is half as nice as heaven that you take me to/Who needs paradise, I’d rather have you’. Well, yes, of course you would, it’s a no-brainer isn’t it? Perhaps the kids thought it would make a nice Valentines Day present?

A live album, The National Welsh Coast Live Explosion Company followed, and a single by Roy Wood from the Move, Hello Susie, which reached number four, but Amen Corner wouldn’t make it far into 1970. They recorded one last album, Farewell to the Real Magnificent Seven featuring their final (only their sixth) single, a cover of the Beatles’ Get Back, which failed to chart in 1969.

Saxophonists Jones and Smith left, and the rest of the band became Fair Weather, scoring a hit in 1970 with Natural Sinner. However, Weaver left to replace Rick Wakeman in the Strawbs in 1971, so they soon split.

Fairweather Low had a solo career, and his single Wide Eyed and Legless reached the top ten in 1975. From there, he has featured as a guitarist on live tours for Eric Clapton and Roger Waters.

Weaver went from the Strawbs to Mott the Hoople, and then the Bee Gees, joining Byron who was at that point their drummer. Jones became a photographer, whose work featured in weeklies the New Musical Express and Melody Maker, before becoming Cardiff City Council’s official photographer. He died of cancer in June 2018, aged 70.

Written by: Lucio Battisti/Jack Fishman (English lyrics)

Producer: Shel Talmy

Weeks at number 1: 2 (12-25 February)

Births:

Long jumper Stewart Faulkner – 19 February
Manic Street Preachers singer and guitarist James Dean Bradfield – 21 February

Deaths:

Comedian Kenneth Horne – 14 February

265. The Move – Blackberry Way (1969)

Before writing a bona-fide Christmas classic for his group Wizzard in 1973, Brummie songwriter Roy Wood specialised in quirky psychedelic pop with the Move, and helped to found the Electric Light Orchestra along the way.

In 1965, members of several groups in the Birmingham music scene plotted to form a new band, that they hoped would emulate the success of the Who. Making the move (hence the new group’s name) that December were singer Carl Wayne, bassist Chris ‘Ace’ Kefford and drummer Bev Bevan from Carl Wayne and the Vikings. Guitarist and songwriter Wood transferred from the Nightriders, later to become the Idle Race. In January 1966, the same month as their live debut, they were joined by guitarist Trevor Burton from Danny King & the Mayfair Set.

In these early days, the Move played mainly covers by bands including the Byrds, plus Motown and rock’n’roll. Although Wayne was the lead singer, each member got a chance to sing at the gigs.

Soon, Moody Blues manager Tony Secunda signed them up and helped them get a weekly residency at London’s Marquee Club. Secunda was integral in helping the Move stand out. He encouraged them to perform dressed as gangsters, and would get Wayne to take an axe to television sets on stage. When they signed their contract with producer Denny Cordell, he arranged for them to sign it on the back of topless model Liz Wilson. It was also Secunda that encouraged Wood to begin coming up with original material.

All Secunda’s unique, somewhat sexist methods paid off when the Move’s debut single, Night of Fear, written by Wood but with a steal from Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, stormed to number two in January 1967. Wood soon found his form, and the next three singles are all classic LSD-fried upbeat pop, showcasing Wood’s very British humour and laden with catchy hooks. I Can Hear the Grass Grow, later covered by the Fall, reached number five in March.

Flowers in the Rain reached number two in August, and is now their most famous tune due to it being the first pop song ever played on Radio 1 a month later. It helps that it’s also bloody good, particularly because of its distinctive woodwind and string arrangement courtesy of Cordell’s assistant Tony Visconti. It did however create a headache for Wood. Secunda’s decision to issue a postcard featuring a cartoon of Prime Minister Harold Wilson in bed with his secretary Marcia Williams resulted in the Move losing a libel case and Wood relinquishing all royalties to charities of Wilson’s choice.

Fire Brigade, released in January 1968, was their best yet, and was the first single to feature Wood on lead vocal. What a bizarre, life-affirming, under-rated classic. A patchy debut LP, Move, was released at the same time. Soon after, Kefford was sacked due to drug issues. Their rut continued when next single Wild Tiger Woman failed to chart. Fortunately, Blackberry Way wasn’t far behind.

Released in November that year, and perhaps as a result of the mood in the band, Blackberry Way was darker than their usual fare. Inspired by Penny Lane, I consider this a sequel to Flowers in the Rain, where the ecstatic trip has turned sour. The queasy backing, thanks in part to producer Jimmy Miller, conjures up the confusion and fear of a bad trip. There’s no fun to be had in the rain this time. The singer is broken-hearted on Blackberry Way, wondering where he goes from here. However, the chorus is more upbeat and defiant, and the singer reckons she is sure to ‘want me back another day’. Whilst it’s not the best single by the Move, Blackberry Way is a great example of late-60s psychedelic pop, and it signified that the hippy dream of the past few years was turning sour.

Playing keyboards on Blackberry Way was Richard Tandy, who was later part of the Electric Light Orchestra. He briefly joined the Move when Burton injured himself, but Burton was growing increasingly disenchanted with the pop that Wood was writing, and once Blackberry Way became number one, he knew they would continue in that vein, so he left in February 1969 after an on-stage scrap with Bevan.

Among the replacements considered for Burton was Jeff Lynne, who was still hopeful for further success with the Idle Race, and even Hank Marvin of the Shadows. Eventually Rick Price took up the bass on a non-contractual basis.

October 1969 saw the Move’s only US tour dates, supporting the Stooges. Soon after they began being booked for cabaret-style venues, which signalled they were losing their way. Wood began working up the concept of the Electric Light Orchestra. He was become increasingly keen on bringing classical and exotic instruments into pop songs, and ELO would give him the chance to experiment away from the Move. A month before the release of their second album Shazam in February 1970, an increasingly frustrated Wayne quit the Move. He had wanted Kefford and Burton back in the fold while Wood worked on ELO, but he, Bevan and Price refused to go along with the plan. In 2000, Wayne replaced Allan Clarke as lead singer of the Hollies, until his death from cancer in 2004.

Wood approached Lynne once more, only this time he floated the idea for the Electric Light Orchestra too, and Lynne was in as second guitarist and pianist. They began work on what was supposed to be the final Move album, Looking On, released in December 1970, which featured hit single Brontosaurus and the stomping Feel Too Good as its closer. One of the songs intended as a B-side, the cello-laden epic 10538 Overture, became the first ELO single instead.

Wood, Lynne and Bevan signed a new deal with Harvest Records, who insisted on one final album by the Move as well as two ELO albums, so the trio found themselves in the unusual position of recording two separate LPs by two different bands simultaneously. The Move’s final album, Message from the Country, was released in June 1971, and The Electric Light Orchestra came six months later. Soon after the Move’s ‘farewell single’ California Man, was released. By the time we hear from Wood in this blog again, his time in ELO was over, and Lynne was in charge.

There was a one-off reunion of the Move in 1981 when Wood, Bevan and Kefford took part in a charity fundraiser. The name has been used by Bevan in several different line-ups to this day, something that Wood resents.

Written by: Roy Wood

Producer: Jimmy Miller

Weeks at number 1: 1 (5-11 February)

263. The Marmalade – Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da (1969)

After a topsy-turvy 1968, we reach the final year of the decade. And for the first time since the inception of the charts, there’s a new number 1 on New Year’s Day. Psych-pop and rock five-piece the Marmalade became the first Scottish band at the top of the charts with their version of Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da by the Beatles.

The band’s history began in 1961 in east Glasgow. Originally known as the Gaylords (stop sniggering, they took the name from the street gang Chicago Gaylords), the inaugural line-up featured guitarists Pat Fairley and Billy Johnston, lead guitarist Pat McGovern, drummer Tommy Frew and singer Wattie Rodgers.

Several line-up changes ensued, most importantly the arrival of William ‘Junior’ Campbell on guitar later that year. By 1963 they were known as Dean Ford and the Gaylords, with Thomas McAleese assuming the name of the ‘star’, aping Cliff Richard and the Shadows. They signed with Columbia Records in 1964, and their first single was a cover of Chubby Checker’s Twenty Miles. They were getting lots of attention in Scotland, and following a stint in Germany in 1965, they returned with ambitions to make it big in England.

After befriending the Tremeloes they signed with their manager Peter Walsh. Performing in the clubs of swinging London in 1966, they tightened up their act and Walsh suggested they became the Marmalade, and they signed with CBS and gained hitmaking Mike Smith as their producer. Debut single, It’s All Leading Up to Saturday Night, failed to chart.

Third single, I See the Rain, featuring a nice pop-psych sound, was lauded by Jimi Hendrix as the best single of 1967. By this point, the line-up had settled down to Ford on lead vocals, Patrick Fairley on six-string bass, Campbell on guitar and keyboards, Raymond Duffy on drums and Graham Knight on bass. The Marmalade were now making waves, supporting the Pink Floyd and performing at festivals during the Summer of Love. But they still weren’t charting, and CBS were beginning to get impatient.

The Marmalade rejected Everlasting Love, which became a number 1 for Love Affair in 1968. Eventually, to get CBS off their backs, they recorded Lovin’ Things, and reached number six in the charts. Also that year they released their debut album, There’s a Lot of It About.

In late 1968 they were offered Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da by publisher Dick James. Allegedly, the band had no idea it was by Paul McCartney when they agreed. It had yet to be released on the Beatles’ eponymous double album.

McCartney wrote this bright and breezy ska-influenced ditty during the Beatles time in Rishikesh, India, earlier that year. The song’s title and chorus came from Nigerian musician Jimmy Scott. Apparently his backing band were called Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, and in live shows he would call out ‘Ob la di’, to which the audience would respond ‘Ob la da’, and he would then conclude ‘Life goes on.’ The ‘Desmond’ of the song was inspired by rising ska star Desmond Dekker.

The fact McCartney would steal the phrase for his own means caused some consternation between he and Scott, and Scott threatened legal action until he came to an agreement with Macca to drop the case if the Beatle would pay his legal bills to get him out of Brixton Prison (he had failed to pay maintenance to his ex-wife).

John Lennon hated Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, so it was ironic he came up with the best part of the Beatles version when he banged away on the piano in the intro in pure frustration. McCartney had planned to release their version as a single, but Lennon was having none of it. George Harrison wasn’t a fan of either, and he wasn’t singing its praises when he namechecked it on Savoy Truffle.

The Marmalade’s version is inferior from the start, ditching that piano intro and any ska influence, preferring to turn it into a jolly, soft knees-up. They even replace ‘Bra’ with ‘Woah’. You could never call the Beatles recording edgy, yet it is by comparison to this. Not different enough to be interesting in any way, it’s reminiscent of the Overlanders’ number 1 version of Michelle. The most noteworthy bit is right at the end, where, instead of singing ‘If you want some fun, take Ob-La-Di-Bla-Da’, they replace ‘fun’ with ‘jam’. Marmalade, y’see.

Like that cover, Beatles fans flocked to the record anyway, and the Marmalade were at number 1 for the first week of January, before being overtaken by 1968’s Christmas number 1, Lily the Pink, by the Scaffold, once more. The Marmalade eventually won out, with a further fortnight as top of the pops.

In November of that year they signed a lucrative deal with Decca, which meant they could write and produce their own material with no time restraints in the studio. This resulted in their biggest hit worldwide, Reflections of My Life, an unusual early prog-rock-sounding ballad, which is superior to their number 1 single.

The beginning of the end of the group’s fame came when Campbell chose to leave in 1971. The hits carried on for a while longer, including Cousin Norman and Radancer, but line-up changes came thick and fast. In 1973 they signed with EMI, and dropped the ‘The’ from their name. Apart from a hit with Falling Apart at the Seams in 1976, none of their singles charted.

During the 1980s an incarnation of Marmalade toured the nostalgia circuit, with Knight as the sole member from their heyday. Dave Dee began occasionally performing with them from 1987 until his death in 2009. Knight departed the following year. Dean Ford passed away on New Year’s Eve last year due to complications from Parkinson’s. Despite no original members, Marmalade continue to jam. Sorry.

Also in that first week of 1969, Australian media mogul and all-round nasty piece of work Rupert Murdoch purchased best-selling Sunday newspaper The News of the World on 2 January. Three days later, riots in Derry left over a hundred people injured.

On 18 January, former drummer with the Beatles, Pete Best, won his defamation lawsuit against the band. Six days later there was unrest when violent protests by students resulted in the closure of the London School of Econoics for three weeks. This resulted in the students occupying the University of London Union three days later.

Written by: John Lennon & Paul McCartney

Producer: Mike Smith

Weeks at number 1: 3 (1-7, 15-28 January)

Births:

Lawyer Mary Macleod – 4 January

Deaths:

Conjoined twin actresses Violet and Daisy Hilton – 4 January

257. Bee Gees – I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You (1968)

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British tennis player Virginia Wade made headlines on 8 September when she defeated Billie Jean King to win the US Open Women’s Singles event. It was her first Grand Slam singles title and her only one at the US Open. That week, the Bee Gees had their second and last number 1 of the 1960s.

Since the success of Massachusetts, the Gibb brothers (and co) had continued work on their second album to be released internationally. Horizontal, which hit the shops in February 1968, featured their first number 1, and another hit, World. Guitarist Vince Melouney and drummer Colin Petersen had an increased influence this time around, meaning Horizontal was heavier and darker than the very-1967 Bee Gees 1st.

From there, the Bee Gees made their first appearance on US television and toured the world. They also turned down the opportunity to write and perform the soundtrack for Joe Massot’s psychedelic Wonderwall (1968), which was eventually taken on by George Harrison.

Their single, Words, became one of the most famous Bee Gees ballads, but follow-up Jumbo/The Singer Sang His Song only reached number 25 – their worst chart performance up to that point. But the band were recording like their lives depended on it – in June they finished recording their next album, Idea, and the following month they set to work on Odessa. Despite this purple patch, tensions were growing.

On 12 July, during early sessions for Odessa, they set to work on their next number 1 song. It’s believed that Robin wrote the lyrics for I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You ‘on the spot’, with the music coming jointly from him and his brothers. Robin decided to write from the viewpoint of a man on Death Row that had murdered his wife’s lover, who was determined that the prison chaplain send a final message to her.

This urgent slice of blue-eyed soul ditches the gentle psych-folk of Massachussets and is more like their other early classic, To Love Somebody. Thematically of course, it’s similar to Tom Jones’s Green, Green Grass of Home – but better. Perhaps it’s the fact that the singer committed a crime of passion due to his wife’s affair, but it’s so much easier to identify with and feel sympathy for this character than Tom when you compare the two.

I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You is never included in lists of Bee Gees classics, but I really love it. It’s rather earnest, and melodramatic, but all the better for it. Originally it was intended for soul singer Percy Sledge, who did cover it. The pleading, plaintive vocals hit the spot, as always with the Gibbs (co-producer and manager Robert Stigwood had called the singers back to the studio that night to record the three-part harmonies), and the chorus is really addictive. The bass is especially good, courtesy of Maurice, who at the time was a huge admirer of Paul McCartney’s style, and it’s also him on the mellotron, which makes the chorus even more memorable.

Confusingly, there are five versions, all made from a single recording, in stereo, mono, played at different speeds, with different fade-outs, and percussion and strings sounds at varying volume. The percussion is a little off-putting actually, when too high, as it sounds like a CD track that’s stuttering. The mono single version has it all about right, though.

The Bee Gees also recorded a video, which you can see above, featuring the group performing in a white room on a revolving platform. Simple but effective, unlike Barry’s all-in-one black blouse, which is a bit much, really.

Released just before Idea, but not included on the UK version of the album, I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You only spent a week at number 1 before Hey Jude took over. In the US, it became their first top ten hit. But things soon turned sour for the Bee Gees. Since 1967 they had been seen superstars, and potential rivals to the Beatles. As we know, however, the wilderness years beckoned. Melouney and Petersen wouId soon quit, and then Robin would briefly leave. It would be a full decade before they had another number 1 single.

Written by: Barry, Robin & Maurice Gibb

Producer: Robert Stigwood & Bee Gees

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

Births:

Anti-war activist Anas Altikriti – 9 September
Actress Julia Sawalha – 9 September

Deaths:

Golfer Tommy Armour – 12 September

256. The Beach Boys – Do It Again (1968)

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On 31 August and 1 September 1968 the first Isle of Wight Festival took place. Held at Ford Farm, near Godshill, roughly 10,000 people saw headliners Jefferson Airplane, along with the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, the Move, Tyrannosaurus Rex and Fairport Convention, among others.

Reigning at the top of the charts that week were the Beach Boys, for the second and last time. But whereas their previous number 1 Good Vibrations explored a brave new world of sonic adventure, Do It Again was a throwback to the surfing sound of the early days of the group. Like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys went back to basics – well, almost.

As 1966 had drawn to a close, the Beach Boys were riding high both critically and commercially. Good Vibrations was such a spellbinding track, the next album, SMiLE, promised to be their answer to the Beatles’ Revolver. It wasn’t meant to be, though. Brian Wilson was a genius, but SMiLE proved to be his breaking point, and it was repeatedly postponed as his paranoia and perfectionism took charge, before it was shelved in 1967. Their woes continued when the group were slated for pulling out of their Monterey Pop Festival headlining slot at the last minute.

In July, their new album, Smiley Smile, salvaged from the wreckage of SMiLE, was slated. Although in years to come it eventually garnered praise, it was their worst-selling album at that point, and it was downhill from there. Jimi Hendrix, the new US sensation in the UK, also dismissed its single, Heroes and Villains. The year ended with the release of Wild Honey, but once again, a Beach Boys album underperformed, only to gain critical reappraisal eventually. But of course, an oversensitive Brian wasn’t to know what the future held, and he must have been in turmoil. His songwriting decreased rapidly.

Friends, their first album of 1968, was more of a group effort, and featured songs inspired by their experience of Transcendental Meditation with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, along with the Beatles. Also that June, Dennis Wilson befriended a struggling singer-songwriter called Charles Manson. He urged his brother Brian to show interest, but Brian disliked him. A few weeks later they released a stand-alone single.

Do It Again was originally known as Rendezvous, and its lyrics were inspired by a day at the beach Mike Love spent with an old friend. Love put some lyrics together and presented them to his cousin Brian, who began playing around on the piano. They worked together on a chorus, and according to Love, their second UK number 1 was complete in 15 minutes.

With its nostalgic lyrics, recalling ‘Suntanned bodies and/Waves of Sunshine/Calfifornia girls and a/Beautiful coastline’, trademark sunkissed harmonies and its brevity, Do It Again is certainly regressive when compared to Good Vibrations. However, its drums, played by Dennis and session musician John Guerin, are a step forward, and the most adventurous we’ve heard on this blog since Cathy’s Clown by the Everly Brothers in 1960. The compressed, metallic sound came from engineer Stephen Desper, who used tape delay units from live shows meant for vocals to create a clattering of echoed drumbeats. For years I’ve found this drumbeat familiar. I’ve also found the drums in the 1998 song Remember, by French electronic duo Air rang a bell too. Only from researching this did I find out they are one and the same. Remember, indeed.

So yes, the drums are great, and the swaying rhythm is pretty cool, perhaps even a bit, dare I say it, sexy (not a word I’d normally equate with the Beach Boys, and I doubt anyone else does). But it’s hard not to feel a bit underwhelmed by Do It Again, and wonder why this did so well in the UK, especially compared to their home country. Perhaps the idea of surfing in America still held some lustre in dismal old England. Or maybe its a nice little tune that I’m being harsh on, and it just happens to pale in comparison to Good Vibrations, which after all is one of the greatest singles of all time. It has endured over the years, though – its ‘did it’ vocal hook directly influenced Eric Carmen on She Did It, ABBA on On and On and Hall & Oates on Did It in a Minute. It was also re-recorded by members of the Beach Boys several times, including a 2011 version by surviving members of the band to celebrate their 50th anniversary.

Do It Again became the opening track on their 1969 contractual obligation album 20/20, which consisted of mainly outtakes and leftovers. One track on there, Never Learn Not to Love, was a rewrite of Charles Manson’s Cease to Exist. Manson had exchanged his credit for cold hard cash and a motorbike, but he was angry when he discovered Dennis had changed the lyrics. Dennis distanced himself from the increasingly disturbed Manson, and later that year the Manson Family began their killing spree at his command.

As the 1970s began, the Beach Boys signed with Reprise Records and recorded Sunflower, widely regarded by their fans as their best album after Pet Sounds. In 1971 came Surf’s Up, featuring the whistful title track that had originally been intended for SMiLE. Bruce Johnston, who had joined the band in 1965 to replace Brian in live shows, departed shortly after the release. In 1972, Ricky Fataar and Blondie Chaplin joined them at the request of Carl Wilson, and their sound toughened up.

Several underperforming albums followed, but the Beach Boys wode a wave of nostalgia in 1973 following the release of George Lucas’s coming-of-age comedy American Graffiti. Fataar left in 1974, and became a member of Neil Innes’s Beatles spoof band the Rutles, among other things. Meanwhile, Brian had become an alcoholic, overweight recluse, also inclined to taking heroin. In 1975 he went under the care of psychotherapist Eugene Landy, cleaned up somewhat and became the main producer for the Beach Boys once more, although this created a fractious atmosphere.

Despite this, their 1977 album The Beach Boys Love You, originally planned as a solo album for Brian, proved a bold departure, featuring a proto-new wave sound at times and featuring synths. It divided opinion, but Brian loves it.

The rest of the 70s were not a good time for the group, with internal tensions becoming unbearable. The Beach Boys split – for less than three weeks. All three Wilson brothers struggled with alcohol and drugs.

Things did improve, sales-wise in the early 80s when Johnston returned, but Dennis and Carl were largely absent. Following an overdose in 1982, Landy brought Brian back to health under a strict regime, but Dennis was struggling more and more, and sadly drowned in 1983, aged 39. In 1987, they had a hit with the Fat Boys, collaborating on a cover of Wipe Out, and a year later they scored an unexpected hit with Kokomo – considered by many fans to be their nadir. The Beach Boys were now a long way from that cool group who had made Pet Sounds.

Much of the 90s was spent with Wilson and Love at each other’s throats. They made the headlines in the UK in 1996 when a remake of Fun Fun Fun with Status Quo saw both bands unceremoniously kicked off BBC Radio 1’s playlist. In 1998, Carl, the voice behind so many of their classics, succumbed to brain and lung cancer.

As the 21st century dawned, the Beach Boys splintered more than ever. This unexpectedly led to a huge boost for Brian, who went solo and worked with the Wondermints, who did a brilliant job at sounding like his former bandmates. In 2004 he released Brian Wilson Presents SMiLe. The nervous, shuffling figure that appeared on stage at Glastonbury Festival in 2005 may have been a shadow of his former self, and he would have been lost without his new band, but that blazing Sunday afternoon he blew the crowd, myself included, away. After days of rain and sodden mud, the sky was blue and mentally we were all in California (we were certainly not in a normal place, that’s for sure).

As the 50th anniversary came around in 2012, Brian Wilson, Mike Love, Al Jardine, Bruce Johnston and David Marks reunited for a live tour and new album That’s Why God Made the Radio. Unsurprisingly, it was short-lived, with Wilson and Love falling out yet again.

It’s all too easy to see Brian as the sympathetic figure in all these arguments. A sad but loveable genius, pushed around by his nasty cousin, who doesn’t give a shit about the artistic legacy of the group and only cares about the money. It’s all too easy, because it’s the truth. Yet despite Love’s best efforts, the Beach Boys will always be considered one of the greatest groups of all time, and that’s primarily because of Brian Wilson.

Written by: Brian Wilson & Mike Love

Producers: The Beach Boys

Weeks at number 1: 1 (28 August-3 September)

 

 

254. Tommy James and the Shondells – Mony Mony (1968)

TOMMY-JAMES-RM-3AUG68-Copy

The day this number 1 hit the top was a milestone in television comedy. 31 July saw the first ever episode of World War Two comedy series Dad’s Army transmitted on BBC One. Written by Jimmy Perry and David Croft, it ran for the next nine years and has been repeated eternally ever since. It’ll probably be the last programme on TV when Donald Trump or Boris Johnson press the big red button.

Mony Mony was the first time in a good few years that SEX raised its head in pole position of the singles chart. Psychedelia might have been a time for free love, but lust (by and large) seemed somewhat neutered on 7-inches (snigger).

Rock band Tommy James and the Shondells had an interesting history up to this point. Tommy James, real name Tommy Jackson was born in Dayton, Ohio in April 1947. He had his first taste of stardom while very young – he was a child model at the age of four. Jackson formed his first group in the new family hometown of Niles, Michigan aged 12. Originally called the Echoes in 1959, then Tom and the Tornadoes, they released a single, Long Pony Tail, in 1962. They settled on the Shondells in 1964 by way of tribute to singer Troy Shondell.

That year, while still at high school, they recorded the Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich song Hanky Panky, but although it garnered a good local following, it failed to break out, and the Shondells split the following year.

While Jackson tried and failed in new groups, Hanky Panky was discovered in a bargain bin by a local DJ and he helped the song gain a new following. Bootlegs were soon pressed up and Hanky Panky was more popular than ever. Jackson travelled to New York in search of a record deal. Unfortunately, he found one with Roulette Records. The label was owned by Morris Levy. A hard-nosed criminal who swindled his acts out of royalties, Levy managed to scare any other interested label away from Jackson, even much bigger ones than his own. Levy inspired the character Hesh in The Sopranos.

Of course, the Shondells as they were had long since split, so Jackson searched for a new band, and found them in a house band called the Raconteurs in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. He changed his name professionally to Tommy James and soon the most famous line-up of the Shondells settled on guitarist Eddie Gray, bassist Mike Vale, Ron Rosman on keyboards and Pete Lucia on drums. With the backing of Levy, Hanky Panky became number 1 on the Billboard chart in 1966.

The next few singles didn’t perform spectacularly, but eventually they found their groove, a bubblegum pop and rock sound, with songwriters and producers Bo Gentry and Ritchie Cordell. They wrote, among others, I Think We’re Alone Now, a UK number 1 for Tiffany in 1988.

By 1968, Tommy James and the Shondells were working on a promising new song, which was more or less complete, but James was struggling for a title. He had considered Sloopy or Bony Maroney, but thought they sounded stupid. They tried in vain, until James went outside, looked up and saw the Mututal of New York building. Its initials were illuminated in red at the top, and James had his ‘eureka!’ moment.

Also credited to singer-songwriter Bobby Bloom, Mony Mony was, as I said, the raunchiest UK number 1 for some time. Okay, we’re not talking Justify My Love levels of filth here, but we’re still a year off Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin topping the charts. It’s clear James is feeling like one horny bugger during the chorus. Unfortunately, as catchy as the ‘Mony Mony’ chant is, it’s a bit too bubblegum, and the backing vocals keep James in check. There’s an interesting tension there. I’ve always liked this tune, after first hearing punk rocker Billy Idol’s version as a child.

Mony Mony didn’t reach number 1 in the US, but enjoyed a fortnight in the UK over the summer. It was then briefly toppled by the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, but after only a week, Fire was usurped by Mony Mony for a further week.

Tommy James and the Shondells were beginning to tire of the bubblegum element of their material, and decided on a mature, pyschedelic sound. It paid off, and Crimson and Clover (which was pretty much a Tommy James solo single in all but name) ended a great year for the group at number 1 in the US. One of their bestsellers in 1969 was the sublime Crystal Blue Persuasion, used to great effect in Breaking Bad many years later. They did make a big misstep that year though, laughing off an invitation to play at a festival called Woodstock.

James and the Shondells came to an abrupt halt in 1970 when an exhausted James came off stage and collapsed. He was initially pronounced dead due to drugs. Wisely, James took off for a quiet life in the country. The Shondells renamed themselves Hog Heaven but disbanded after two albums. James however remained in the business and along with a solo career he wrote and produced a US hit for Alive N Kickin in 1970.

60s nostalgia was everywhere in the 80s, and Tommy James and the Shondells did very well out of it. Idol’s Mony Mony was released in 1982, Joan Jett & the Blackhearts had a hit with Crimson and Clover, and then in 1987 Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now and a live version of Mony Mony by Idol were back-to-back chart-toppers in the US.

Thanks to audiences at Idol gigs, Mony Mony became way filthier than the original version. In between every line in the verses, crowds began to chant either ‘Hey, say what… get laid get fucked!’ or ‘Hey, motherfucker… get laid get fucked!’. Then the chorus chant was changed to ‘Fucking horny!’. Dear me.

All this renewed interest in the band inevitably led to James and a new Shondells line-up joining the oldies circuit. Classic-era drummer Lucia died while playing golf in 1987, aged 39.

2010 saw the publication of James’s autobiography. Me, The Mob, and The Music. It detailed how he was left out of pocket by Roulette Records and how it was in fact cover for Levy’s money-laundering operation. He even had to leave New York at one point to avoid being the victim of a Mob hit. He still performs live with a version of the Shondells.

While Mony Mony was number 1, British Rail’s last steam train service ended. On 11 August, steam locomotives made the 314-mile return passenger journey from Liverpool to Carlisle. The trains were either sent to the scrapyard or kept for preservation.

Written by: Tommy James, Bo Gentry, Ritchie Cordell & Bobby Bloom

Producers: Bo Gentry & Ritchie Cordell

Weeks at number 1: 3 (31 July-13 August, 21-27 August)

Births:

Scottish race driver Colin McRae – 5 August
Footballer Julian Dicks – 8 August
Cyclist Chris Boardman – 26 August 

Deaths:

Princess Marina, Duchess of Kent – 27 August