She Loves You

409. Donna Summer – I Feel Love (1977)

/ robbarker1979

The Intro

‘Queen of Disco’ Donna Summer sold hundreds of millions of records in the 70s and 80s. Her sole UK number 1, I Feel Love, is to put it mildly, one of the greatest, most influential records of all time. Pointing the way towards the future of pop, this collaboration with Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte will never, ever grow old. It is as important to music as The Beatles’ She Loves You.

Before

Summer was born LaDonna Adrian Gaines on 31 December 1948 in Boston, Massachusetts. The third of seven children, her father was a butcher and her mother a schoolteacher. Her performing debut took place at church when she was aged 10, replacing another child who failed to appear. A popular child, at high school she performed in school musicals. In 1967, weeks before graduation, Gaines left Boston for New York, where she joined blues rock group Crow. Allegedly the band split when they failed to be signed due to the label only showing an interest in her.

Gaines remained in New York afterwards, where she auditioned to be in counterculture hit musical Hair. She agreed to take the role of Sheila in the Munich production. Her parents were reluctant for her to move to West Germany, but she did. In 1968 as Donna Gaines she released her first single Wasserman, a German cover of Hair‘s Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In, on Polydor. Over the next few years she became fluent in German and starred in several musicals.

In 1971, Gaines moved to Vienna in Austria, where she married the native actor Helmuth Sommer. She got work as a backing singer, going under the name Gayn Pierre. While flitting between this work and being a part-time model, she got to know Moroder and Bellotte in Munich during a recording session with Three Dog Night at their studio. She signed with them in 1974, releasing their first fruits together, Denver Dream, as a single. Due to an error on the demo’s cover, Sommer decided to keep the name Donna Summer instead. Debut LP Lady of the Night came out that same year. This mix of rock, folk and pop performed respectably in the Netherlands, where it was initially released.

Then a year later Summer approached Moroder with a sketch of a song called Love to Love You. Raunchy and explicit, she was unsure she wanted her name putting to it, but agreed to record a demo. Moroder loved it and insisted her version be released. It reached 13 in the Netherlands, but Moroder knew this was just the start. He sent a tape to Casablanca records boss Neil Bogart in the States. Bogart was a lively hedonist and would play Love to Love You at his wild parties. He loved it, but told Moroder it needed to be longer. This was because people would end up having sex to it at his parties and he got sick of having to put the needle on the record again when it ended too soon. A reticent Summer eventually threw herself into the job, laying on a near-dark studio floor to record a vocal the like of which had never been heard in mainstream pop before. Over 16 minutes long and according to the BBC featuring 23 orgasm sounds, Love to Love You Baby introduced the world to Summer. This filthy disco classic, renamed by Bogart, reached two in the US and four in the UK in 1975.

Summer, Moroder and Bellotte wasted no time in capitalising on the success, with an album of the same name following, then two more, A Love Trilogy and Four Seasons of Love in 1976. These were disco concept albums, featuring lengthy dance floor epics on one side and shorter tracks on the flip. Summer had by now earned herself the nickname ‘First Lady of Love’. Sales dropped in the UK, although Winter Melody climbed to 27 in the UK singles chart.

That October, the trio set to work on another concept album. I Remember Yesterday was planned as an LP showcasing Summer’s ability to put her voice to varying music styles from the past, as well as her trademark disco stylings. The final track, it was decided, would be set to what they envisioned as the music of the future. That future was I Feel Love.

Although Moroder had spent several years developing his string-laden disco epics, he had history with the future of music. His song Son of My Father became the first number 1 to feature a synthesiser when covered by Chicory Tip in 1972. For I Feel Love, Moroder borrowed the Moog Modular 3P from classical composer Eberhard Schoener, who had been something of a Moog pioneer. Schoener’s assistant Robby Wedel proved integral in the recording process. Bellotte later called him the unsung hero of the track as he was able to control the Moog in a way nobody, including Robert Moog himself, thought possible.

The large unwieldy instrument, looking like a small TARDIS, was brought into Musicland Studios in Munich. The first line was laid down and Wedel taught Moroder and Bellotte how to synch tracks. It was he that produced the most distinctive and initiated bassline in electronic music, thought up by Moroder. Each note of the baseline was doubled by a delay effect, with the original note coming through the left channel and the delay through the right, creating that hypnotic strobing sensation. Moroder would alter the key at regular intervals to add variety. The recording process was laborious, with the unpredictable Moog going out of tune every 20 or 30 seconds. For the hi-hat sound they took white noise generated by the machine’s envelopes and cut it up. There was however one human element added to the instrumentation. Because they were unable to get a large enough kick drum sound from the Moog, they used their regular session drummer Keith Forsey, who added seven minutes of thump. Forsey later co-wrote Flashdance… What a Feeling with Moroder.

Summer and Bellotte were supposed to work together on the lyrics. Bellotte headed over to her house one night and got started while Summer was on the phone. It was three hours later before she finally came down, apologising for being on the phone to her astrologer, who was helping her decide between two men she was dating. Bellotte had finished writing the song. Summer made up for the wait by eventually recording her vocal in one take.

Review

There simply aren’t enough superlatives to describe this song. It’s far too big to even be called a song. It’s a cultural touchstone. A landmark in music. And unlike some of the greatest songs of all time, I think it’s actually impossible to tire of it. While researching it I fell down a rabbit hole and listened to over 90 minutes of this one song and the many remixes through the years. I could have gone on, too. It’s also an understatement to say no number 1 before it had ever sounded like this. The Moog fades in, shimmering, before the bass and its delay creates a totally addictive, motorik arpeggio, used on countless tunes ever since. It’s alien, electronic, magnetic. And you can feel blissed-out even before Summer comes in. But when she does… total ecstasy. She glides over the retro-futuristic electronic soundscape like an angel.

Understandably when I Feel Love is discussed it’s the backing that gets most of the attention. Summer’s one-take vocal, though, is fantastic. It takes George McCrae’s orgasmic falsetto on that earlier dancefloor revolutionary number 1, Rock Your Baby to another level. The only criticism I could possibly give this single is that it’s too short. The album version, 5:53 long, is hacked down to 3:45, with the fade-in happening too quick, and it fades out before the third verse. If ever a song deserved to stretch out, it’s this.

And yet, Casablanca didn’t seem so sure about I Feel Love. Moroder later recalled that Bogart enjoyed it but not as much as he’d hoped. Bellotte also says that nobody involved in the making of it seemed to realise just how special it was. It was initially tucked away as the B-side to the ballad Can’t We Just Sit Down (And Talk It Over), released 1 May 1977. But it gained traction in nightclubs, particularly in the UK. Casablanca switched sides and I Feel Love became the single here and then internationally. It became huge. The 12″ version, at 8:15, is even better than the album version.

After

Summer followed I Feel Love with the beautiful Theme from “The Deep” (Down, Deep Inside), co-written by John Barry. It peaked at five. Love’s Unkind, also from I Remember Yesterday, went to number three. Summer, Moroder and Bellotte followed up that LP with Once Upon a Time… a double album based on Cinderella. In 1978 she acted in the modestly received disco comedy film Thank God It’s Friday. Her song from the soundtrack, Last Dance, saw Summer win her first of five Grammys, for Best Female R&B Vocal Performance. Also that year, she notched up her first US number 1 with a live recording of MacArthur Park. Her final album for Casablanca, released in 1979, was Bad Girls. This double LP was the biggest selling and most acclaimed of her career. Moroder brought in Harold Faltermeyer to contribute. Hot Stuff and Bad Girls were both US number 1s, making her the first solo artist to have two songs in the Billboard top three. When her duet with Barbra Streisand, No More Tears (Enough Is Enough) also went to number 1 there, she became the first female artist to achieve three chart-toppers in one calendar year.

Casablanca wanted Summer to continue to record disco only but she had other ideas and as the 80s began she signed with the new Geffen Records. Her album The Wanderer was its first release. Despite a more eclectic sound, the album didn’t have the same impact in the UK as her Casablanca material. The next collection, Donna Summer, was released in 1982. A pregnant Summer sang at the funeral of Bogart, who died during recording sessions. The eponymous album was a success, with State of Independence a number 14 hit in the UK. It was produced by Quincy Jones, ending her long and fruitful relationship with Moroder and Bellotte.

This was followed by an I Feel Love (Mega Mix) by Patrick Cowley. The American producer, like Moroder, is now considered a disco and hi-NRG pioneer. But he was virtually unknown while alive. Shortly before he died of AIDS in November that year, Casablanca released this 15:43 version of I Feel Love that Cowley originally produced in 1978. Stretching the song out even further than before by looping the bassline, he laid new effects and synth work over long instrumental passages. Allegedly, Moroder isn’t a fan. This could be because Cowley somehow managed to better the original. This is the definitive version of I Feel Love, and made the song a UK hit once more, climbing to 21.

In 1983 Summer recorded the album She Works Hard for the Money to settle her contract dispute between Geffen and Casablanca. It was her bestselling album of the 80s and the single Unconditional Love, featuring Musical Youth, was her last UK chart hit for four years. She returned there with Dinner with Gershwin, which peaked at 13 in 1987. Two years later she worked with the UK’s biggest production team of the era – Stock Aitken Waterman. They were untouchable at the time and it paid off. The album Another Place and Time featured This Time I Know It’s for Real, which peaked at three, and I Don’t Wanna Get Hurt, reaching seven.

The 90s were a leaner time for the Queen of Disco but she was still doing well. In 1994, Melody of Love (I Wanna Be Loved) reached 21. Not bad for a new song tacked on to a greatest hits. The following year a new mix of I Feel Love was released and soared to eight. Featuring a new vocal from Summer and remixes by Masters of Work and Rollo & Sister Bliss from Faithless. I’ve heard many great remixes of the track and these are not among them – but they’re very ‘mid-90s’. Remixes of State of Independence followed in 1996 and gave Summer her final chart hit (13).

The Outro

In 2003 Summer released her autobiography Ordinary Girl: The Journey. Five years later came her first original album in 17 years – Crayons. It would be her last. She died on 17 May 2012 of lung cancer. A nonsmoker, she blamed the 9/11 attack for causing toxic fumes she inhaled, as she had an apartment near Ground Zero. Many of the world’s top singers, influenced by her, paid tribute. She had many hits in her lifetime but non compare to I Feel Love. Few things do.

The Info

Written by

Donna Summer, Giorgio Moroder & Pete Bellotte

Producers

Giorgio Moroder & Pete Bellotte

Weeks at number 1

4 (23 July-19 August)

Trivia

Births

30 July: SNP MP Derek Mackay

394. ABBA – Dancing Queen (1976)

/ robbarker1979

The Intro

Simply magnificent. Right that’s Dancing Queen covered.

I’m joking, but really, what can be said about Dancing Queen that hasn’t already been said? How does one analyse the ecstasy contained within those three minutes and 52 seconds? In a moribund year of number 1s, this stands out not only as the best, it’s one of the greatest pop songs of all time, up there with She Loves You.

Before

Dancing Queen had been the first song ABBA recorded in the sessions for the album Arrival, beginning on 4 August 1975. The demo was known as Boogaloo and as sessions progressed, Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus became inspired by another disco classic – George McCrae’s Rock Your Baby and the drum sound from Dr John’s 1972 LP Dr John’s Gumbo. It’s slightly blown my mind to discover that the intro sounds very similar to Delaney & Bonnie’s Sing My Way Home from 1971. It was manager and co-writer Stig Anderson that gave the song its title.

Once the backing track was complete, with session musicians Rutger Gunnarsson on bass and Roger Palm on drums, Andersson took a tape home and played it to Anni-Frid Lyngstad. She was so moved she burst into tears and later recalled ‘I found the song so beautiful. It’s one of those songs that goes straight to your heart.’. Fellow ABBA vocalist Agnetha Fältskog agreed, reminiscing that ‘It’s often difficult to know what will be a hit. The exception was Dancing Queen. We all knew it was going to be massive.’

Andersson, Anderson and Ulvaeus worked on the missing piece of the puzzle, coming up with lyrics that capture how it feels to be young, on a night out, and feeling the music and eyes of adorers upon you.

Review

Dancing Queen is a masterclass in pop on every level. Just like the Beatles with She Loves You, they know they have a killer chorus on their hands and go straight into it after a triumphant piano roll. It’s euphoric and ecstatic, and before turning the spotlight (or should that be Super Troupers?) on the 17-year-old girl in the disco, it’s pointing at the listener. You can dance. You can jive. Having the time of your life. The combination of this message and the beautiful music is so inviting, I don’t see how can anyone can turn it down. And then the verses. It’s Friday night, the lights are low and the Dancing Queen is on the prowl.

The only real complaint I’ve heard about Dancing Queen is that the lyrics are politically incorrect, that the girl is a prick tease. I don’t agree. I think the lyrics are empowering, particularly considering the era they were written in. To read ‘Anybody can be that guy’ as a sign of her not being fussy who she pulls, needs to pay attention to the preceding line: ‘You come to look for a king’. Although this is obviously considered a disco anthem, the lyrics note she’s dancing to rock music. Andersson and Ulvaeus wisely ditched a verse that was here originally and has survived via footage from a recording session:

‘Baby, baby, you’re out of sight
Hey, you’re looking all right tonight
When you come to the party
Listen to the guys
They’ve got the look in their eyes’

You could still argue with me, and it’s a strong argument, that the final verse really does prove this girl is bad news:

‘You’re a teaser, you turn ’em on
Leave them burning and then you’re gone
Looking out for another, anyone will do’

ABBA somehow manage to make all this sound kind of innocent though, and I’d still say it’s refreshing to see the girl in charge. And it’s true. It’s the girls that hold all the power in the nightclub discos. And if you listen to this wonderful music, you can feel that way again. It’s a song that doesn’t age thanks to the heavenly production. Lyngstad and Fältskog sing like angels and Andersson’s piano is the highlight – I love the way his pieces seem to tumble from ear to ear with earphones on. Nice synth too, adding texture here and there. As the song fades away, you can almost cry at the sheer beauty of it all. Ah to be young again. There’s none of the Europop cheese ABBA often indulge in here. If there is a higher power up there, I think ABBA somehow channeled it with this song. It’s perfect.

Recorded in two days flat, ABBA knew they were on to a winner, but Anderson suggested Fernando should be released before it as it was broader. This seems like madness to me, but both were massive hits so there you go. Dancing Queen went global. A very respectful six weeks here, 14 weeks in their native Sweden and topping the charts in more than 10 countries, including their only number 1 in the US. It became the second track on Arrival, which was a smash.

After

In 1980 they recorded a Spanish version for their Latin LP Gracias Por La Música, where it was renamed Reina Danzante. Over the years Dancing Queen has only grown in stature and is often referenced by critics who want to get over the simple beauty of pop at its best. It returned to the UK charts in 1992, reaching 16 off the back of Erasure’s number 1 Abba-esque EP. it’s perhaps here that the ABBA revival really began.

The Outro

So, with three number 1s, all huge sellers and this one ruling the roost, 1976 really was ABBA’s year. They weren’t one-hit wonders anymore. They were one of the UK’s favourite groups. In the video to Dancing Queen above, they are performing in a small, packed venue to bopping fans. The band look to be on top of the world. They were.

The Info

Written by

Benny Andersson, Stig Anderson & Björn Ulvaeus

Producers

Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus

Weeks at number 1

6 (4 September-15 October)

Trivia

Births

6 September: Footballer Ian Ashbee/Actress Naomie Harris
8 September: Model Abi Titmuss
11 September: Swimmer Neil Willey
16 September: S Club 7 singer Tina Barrett
13 October: Field hockey player Jennie Bimson

Deaths

1 October: Royal Air Force officer George Stacey Hodson
14 October: Actress Edith Evans

Meanwhile…

4 September: 25,000 people attend the Peace March in Derry and call for an end to violence in Northern Ireland.

9 September: The Royal Shakespeare Company opens a production of Macbeth at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon. Directed by Trevor Nunn, it stars Ian McKellen and Judi Dench in the lead roles.

12 September: Portsmouth football club are reported to be on the brink of bankruptcy due to huge debts.

23 September: Eight men are killed when a fire breaks out on the destroyer HMS Glasgow while being fitted out at Swan Hunter at Wallsend on Tyne.

29 September: Ford launch the Cortina Mark IV.

4 October: The famous InterCity 125 high-speed train is introduced into passenger service on British Rail, initially between London Paddington, Bristol and South Wales.

15 October: Two members of the Ulster Defence Regiment are ailed for 35 years for murder of the members of the Republic of Ireland cabaret performers Miami Showband.

Every 60s Number 1

/ robbarker1979 / 2 Comments

The Intro 

I’ve done it. 186 blogs in 17 months and I’ve now reviewed all the chart-toppers in that most incredible decade of transformation in pop culture. It’s been fascinating, exciting, dreary and terrifying at times, and sometimes, while listening to songs such as Cinderella Rockefeller, it’s been all those things at once.

The 60s, pre-Beatles, is an era I knew little about, so I suspected this could prove as enlightening as my reviews of the 50s, but I was surprised to learn so much once The Beatles invaded the charts too. Their impact in 1963 and 64 was even bigger than I’d ever imagined, and their move into a more ‘mature’ sound would effect the singles charts of their later years too, but detrimentally.

To commemorate reaching the end, it’s only right that I repeat what I did with Every 50s Number 1, and relisten to them all once more, before deciding on the best and worst of each year, and whittling them down even more to the best and worst of the whole decade.

Despite knowing and loving much of this music so much, I admit to being a bit nervous. How do I choose between some of the greatest bands and songs the world has ever seen? Only one way to find out…

1960

They say that it takes a few years for a decade to get started, and it’s certainly true in the case of the swinging 60s. The music from the dawn of the decade is mostly a hangover from the fag ends of the initial burst of rock’n’roll. There’s a strange short-lived fad at the start of the year for cockney pop by Adam Faith and Anthony Newley (a big influence on early David Bowie). Things don’t really get going until May when the Everly Brothers return to the top with The pioneering drum sound of Cathy’s Clown. This was followed by the first posthumous chart-topper – Eddie Cochrane’s Three Steps to Heaven. Legendary singer-songwriter Roy Orbison makes his number 1 debut with the classic melancholy of Only the Lonely (Know How I Feel). There’s also a great comeback from Elvis Presley with It’s Now or Never. Less impressive were Cliff Richard and The Shadows’ two number 1s together. Weirdest? That can only be Johnny Preston’s bizarre tail of the love between a cowboy and a native American, Running Bear.

The Best:

Johnny Kidd & The Pirates – Shakin’ All Over

This could and arguably should have been The Shadows’ surprisingly edgy and menacing Apache, which is a true pre-Beatles classic and hugely influential on pop, rock and even hip-hop. But just pipping it for me was this raunchy, dangerous slice of British rock’n’roll. The band brought theatrics into their live shows and inspired The Who, among others, plus it features number 1 session drumming legend Clem Cattini.

The Worst:

Lonnie Donegan – My Old Man’s a Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer)

How quickly the mighty can fall. In Every 50s Number 1, the ‘King of Skiffle’ Lonnie Donegan’s incendiary performance of Cumberland Gap was my runner-up for number 1 of the decade. Three years after inspiring some of the future decade’s brightest talents, he was performing this music-hall rubbish in a live recording from Doncaster. Terrible, terrible jokes littered throughout. Shame.

1961

A bumper crop and a real mixed bag. The women finally get a look in, featuring a young Petula Clark, Shirley Bassey and Helen Shapiro, but I have to say none of these tracks impressed. Elvis had started his ‘will this do?’ era, but Are You Lonesome Tonight? still hits the spot and (Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame deserves a mention. Wooden Heart does not. His sometime pianist Floyd Cramer’s On the Rebound is still full of vim and vigour. The Everlys bow out with Temptation, a nice atmospheric number. There’s a lot of oddities about, and they’re mostly good, particularly the gothic melancholic pomp of Johnny Remember Me. Blue Moon is a lot of fun, as is the demented wailing of Frankie Vaughan on Tower of Strength.

The Best:

Danny Williams – Moon River

Not for the last time I found myself torn between a song that pushes the boundaries of pop and a simple, much-loved standard. This time the former, Del Shannon’s still-popular Runaway fell behind the timeless beauty of the South African singer’s take on Moon River, number 1 that Christmas.

The Worst:

Shirley Bassey – Climb Ev’ry Mountain

The veteran Welsh singer is loved for her powerful voice, but it not only leaves me cold most of the time, I find it painful, and this is her at her wailiest (it’s a word, now) over a very boring track. I was very tempted to throw my headphones across the garden when I got to the final note.

1962

The first sighting of what may have been had The Beatles not arrived. Frank Ifield was the year’s biggest star, with his penchant for amusing yodelling over two number 1s, and was still going strong until the rise of Merseybeat. Elvis’s bestsellers range from the dire to classics – even within a single release. Cliff Richard and The Shadows return with strong material, The Young Ones and Wonderful Land respectively. The country-soul of I Can’t Stop Loving You is far from Ray Charles’s best work, but I confess it’s grown on me a little. Nut Rocker is ace, and is fully deserving of its ubiquitous usage in TV and film.

The Best:

Elvis Presley with The Jordanaires – Can’t Help Falling in Love

Like 1961, this was tough. I very nearly picked the quirky space race euphoria of The Tornados’ Telstar. Joe Meek was innovating pop before The Beatles, and despite Telstar being famous, I can’t help but think it’s still a little underrated. However, once more, the timeless pop ballad wins out – am I getting soft in my old age? Perhaps, but how can I deny the brilliance of one of the finest love songs ever written? There are many versions, but none compare to Elvis’s. I’m far from his biggest fan at times but this is pure gold. That the flip side of this is the awful Rock-A-Hula Baby (“Twist” Special) makes it all the more remarkable.

The Worst:

Mike Sarne with Wendy Richard – Come Outside

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a bit of Carry On humour, and it’s wrong to expect a song from 1962 to live up to the political correctness of the #metoo era, but Come Outside is woeful. Sarne’s flat vocal irritates, Richard is charmless, and it’s all a bit, well, rapey. The rhythm track isn’t bad, though.

1963

Never has a year in pop seen such a seismic shift. For the first third it’s very similar to the year before with appearances from Cliff (Summer Holiday is still a lovely blast of pop), The Shadows and Frank Ifield, and then Merseybeat happens, and things change forever. It’s nearly always The Beatles, acts performing Lennon-McCartney tunes (Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas) or inferior copycats (Brian Poole and The Tremeloes). Bar one good single from Elvis, (You’re the) Devil in Disguise, US artists don’t get a look in. None of these other groups can match The Beatles, although Gerry and the Pacemakers have some decent material with their hat trick of bestsellers. A lot of Merseybeat is too twee for me to really get into, but some of the greatest pop songs of all time are right around the corner now. Exciting times!

The Best:

The Beatles – She Loves You

The Fab Four shook things up like no act before or since in 1963, and that’s largely due to this, the decade’s biggest-selling 7″. The chorus of She Loves You is lightning in a bottle, pure unbridled joy and ecstacy, and it sparked a thousand imitations. From Me to You is nice enough, and I Want to Hold Your Hand showed new maturity in their songwriting, but this is easily their finest early song. And the lyrics are smart too, moving away from the template of ‘I love you’ and introducing a third party. I’ve always loved She Loves You, but hearing it arrive in the context of this blog increases my respect for it even more.

The Worst:

The Shadows – Dance On!

Cliff Richards’ sometime backing band’s impressive run of number 1s with him and alone came to an end this year, with tracks ranging from the great (Apache) and the good (Wonderful Land) to this, which isn’t awful, it’s just incredibly boring and leaves no mark on me whatsoever. Adding an exclamation mark to the end of the title doesn’t make me any more enthusiastic, either.

1964

An incredible year of number 1s. I envy anyone who lived through this. In fact, listening to them all in one stint, I’d say there’s a very strong argument that this is the high watermark for number 1s. Merseybeat mutates and expands in strange and exciting ways, most notably the momentous folk-rock classic The House of the Rising Sun by The Animals, meaning that the legendary Bob Dylan’s influence was now being felt on these shores. Then The Rolling Stones made their debut (It’s All Over Now), and became so popular, they got a blues cover to the top (Little Red Rooster)! Roy Orbison bows out by getting the girl at last with the brilliant Oh, Pretty Woman. Joe Meek had his third and final chart-topper too, producing The Honeycombs’ insanely underrated Have I the Right?. Women make their belated return, with Sandie Shaw and Cilla Black both topping the charts with two songs by the masterly Burt Bacharach and Hal David – ((There’s) Always Something There to Remind Me and Anyone Who Had a Heart), and The Supremes had their sole UK number 1. As for the Fab Four, well, there’s three classics from them, in particular A Hard Day’s Night. But they don’t win this time.

The Best:

The Kinks – You Really Got Me

Facing incredibly strong competition, Muswell Hill’s finest were my choice, because despite all the other great tunes in 64, it was this primal expression of pure animal lust that pretty much kickstarted rock and heavy metal. Ray Davies may have become one of our wittiest, most quintessentially English songwriters, but The Kinks perhaps never bettered this scorching slab of raunch.

The Worst:

The Bachelors – Diane

A staid, old-fashioned, boring ballad from Ireland’s original boy band. Wouldn’t have sounded out of place 10 years previous (it actually dates back to 1927. That’s right, it’s even worse than Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas’ Little Children, because at least that had a tune.

1965

Tons of pop gold again, but stylistically more varied than the previous year. More strong material from The Kinks and the Stones, and one of the finest epic break-up songs of all time – namely The Righteous Brothers’ You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’. On a similar note, I’ve always loved The Moody Blues’ version of Go Now that preceded it. We’re starting to see the rise of the hippy movement – hair is getting longer, and the lush jangle of Mr Tambourine Man marks another sea change. Cynics may balk at Sonny & Cher’s I Got You Babe, but I think it holds up well, as does the debut of Tom Jones with his anthem It’s Not Unusual. Four songs from The Beatles, all of them – Ticket to Ride, Help! and Day Tripper/We Can Work It Out, among their finest work, in particular Ticket to Ride. The latter, and Day Tripper, are built around some of the finest riffs in existence. And yet, and yet… Ticket to Ride is just trumped by perhaps the greatest riff there has ever been.

The Best:

The Rolling Stones – (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction

It was as close a call as it’s possible to have, but for once in my life, I’m choosing the Stones over The Beatles. Keith Richards’ legendary riff, allegedly created in his sleep and intended for horns, never dates and combined with Mick Jagger’s frustrated world view make for a dream combination. After paying homage to the blues time and again, this saw the birth of Jagger and Richards as songwriters to rival Lennon and McCartney.

The Worst:

Cliff Richard – The Minute You’re Gone

Oh Cliff. Behind the times as early as 1965. And what does he do, to counteract Beatlemania? He abandons The Shadows, perhaps a shrewd move to appear ahead of the curve? Oh, he’s gone and recorded an old-fashioned country song from 1963. Never the genre’s biggest fan, this sounds like a pale imitation of I Can’t Stop Loving You. Ken Dodd’s huge-selling Tears may have also sounded like a relic, but at least the chorus was catchy.

1966

The last of the peak years of the decade, before albums began to overtake singles in importance. In general, a superlative blend of pop and the rise of drugs and psychedelia in music. British pop now striding into a bold, experimental future, and combined with England winning the World Cup, there was an overwhelming sense of optimism and pride in the UK. The Beatles were approaching the peak of their abilities in the studio, and minds must have been blown by their dark ode to the lonely, Eleanor Rigby. As startling a song as it is, I’ve always found it easier to admire than to enjoy. I’d take previous single Paperback Writer over that, and wish their jangly guitar era had lasted a bit longer. 66 got off to a blistering start with the Spencer Davis Group’s still storming Keep on Running, and Nancy Sinatra helped shape modern female pop with the sassy cool of These Boots Are Made for Walkin’… yet Dusty Springfield’s only number 1, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me is uncharacteristically pleading. By and large, 1966 is another embarrassment of riches, particularly The Rolling Stones’ apocalyptic Paint It, Black, almost their best song ever. The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore, Sunny Afternoon, Reach Out, I’ll Be There… all classics. It would take a very special song to shine above all these.

The Best:

The Beach Boys – Good Vibrations

And a very special song this is. That’s right, Brian Wilson’s ‘pocket symphony’ means that I haven’t picked any number 1s by The Beatles during their peak years, which is probably the biggest surprise I’ve had since starting this blog. What it does prove is that the Fab Four inspired their contemporaries to do better than them. Had they not released their landmark album Revolver, we may never have had the finest three-plus minutes of The Beach Boys’ career, which in turn spurred the Beatles on to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. But anyway… in a year of great tunes and studio innovation, The Beach Boys combined both beautifully, devoting as much time to Good Vibrations as lesser bands would to entire albums. The peak of Brian Wilson’s creativity. The only downside being the burn-out that followed recording their next LP.

The Worst:

Jim Reeves – Distant Drums

Released two years after the US country star’s untimely death, this was a bizarre number 1 to have in 1966, particularly for five weeks. It’s unclear why it was considered single-worthy, as it’s more B-side material, and it’s completely out-of-step with prevailing trends. But the anti-war message may have resonated with Vietnam in mind, and it probably gave succour to old folk baffled by yellow submarines et al. Not awful, like some of the other dire material I’ve mentioned, just out of place.

1967

The tectonic plates of British music and culture shifted once more this year, only not as much as you might imagine in the singles chart. As some of the most famous acts concentrated on complex psychedelic LPs influenced by the rise in LSD, the 7″ chart was largely dominated by light entertainment acts – the most since 1962. Top of the pops was smoother-than-smooth balladeer Engelbert Humperdinck, who enjoyed 11 weeks at number 1 and famously, criminally, prevented Penny Lane/Strawberry Fields Forever with Release Me. Other than the pop brilliance of The Monkees’ I’m a Believer, nothing remotely hippy-like gets a look in until the Summer of Love finally gets underway that June with Procul Harum’s earnest and excellent lysergic standard A Whiter Shade of Pale. Only two other, wholly appropriate chart-toppers followed – The Beatles anthem All You Need Is Love and Scott McKenzie’s dreamy San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair), before Humperdinck brought everything down to earth again. We say hello to the Bee Gees for the first time with the lovely Massachusetts, and goodbye to Nancy and Frank Sinatra, with their ‘incest anthem’ Somethin’ Stupid. All in all, 1967 was a surprising letdown.

The Best:

The Beatles – Hello, Goodbye

This isn’t even the best Beatles single of 1967, but thanks to Humperdinck, I can’t rate Strawberry Fields Forever. So I’m settling for this instead, which may seem controversial when lined up against A Whiter Shade of Pale, but personally I love Hello, Goodbye. I rated it the best Christmas number 1 of the 60s here, and I stand by it. It’s infectious, upbeat and catchy, and the finale is as joyous as the chorus to She Loves You if you’re in the right mood. The B-side, I Am the Walrus, is better, though.

The Worst:

Sandie Shaw – Puppet on a String

The famously barefooted singer hated this song, which was our first ever Eurovision winner – and I don’t blame her, because it’s awful and I’m betting it did her career lasting damage. The lyrics are awful, the tune is demented and it makes me want to pull my teeth out and feed them to sparrows.

1968

Stylistically speaking, 1968 is all over the place when it comes to number 1s. The main trend among the bigger bands this year was to adopt a back-to-basics approach as a reaction to flower power. The Beatles led the way, as usual, but Lady Madonna doesn’t match up to The Rolling Stones’ rocking, witty comeback single Jumpin’ Jack Flash, and Do It Again is a bit of a letdown after Good Vibrations, even if the drumbeat proved pioneering. There’s still room for psychedelia in the charming theatrical demonic pomp of Fire by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, but then there are some number 1s that are downright odd more than anything, such as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and particularly Cinderella Rockefeller, with its deranged yodelling and godawful rickety tune. I loved the Bee Gees’ I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You and Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World, an evergreen classic which gave Satchmo a chart-topper shortly before his death. Cliff finally remembered how to record a catchy tune and whatever you think of Eurovision runner-up Congratulations, you can’t deny its popularity.

The Best:

The Beatles – Hey Jude

In much the same way John Lennon’s Imagine is now considered uncool, it seems to be the done thing to slate McCartney’s lengthy classic, but I’m having none of it. It’s soulful and poignant, written for Julian Lennon when his parents were splitting, and its universal message of the power and importance of love speaks more to me than the simplistic sloganeering of All You Need Is Love. The Beatles may have been already splitting at this point, but there was still plenty of magic in the tank.

The Worst:

Des O’Connor – I Pretend

This could so easily have been the profoundly irritating Cinderella Rockefeller, but that at least had a memorable hook, albeit a very irritating one. No, this is as bland as they get, sang with no soul or meaning whatsoever. He’s supposed to be broken-hearted, but he sounds like he’s having a great time. I like Des, but I get why Morecambe and Wise ripped the piss so much now.

1969

The end of an era in more ways than one as we say farewell to The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Despite the fact Abbey Road is one of their finest albums, The Beatles’ singles before its release weren’t them at their best, leaving The Ballad of John and Yoko a rather odd way to bow out of the blog. Honky Tonk Women was more appropriate, showing the future for the Stones as the archetypal good-time rock band of the 70s and beyond that they became. For the first time, album sales outpaced singles, as the teens of the mid-60s grew up and moved on to LPs. This left a gap, to be filled by inferior bubblegum pop, resulting in Sugar Sugar by The Archies becoming the year’s biggest seller. Other than that, it’s another mixed bag, like 1968. Some of the highlights include the tranquil Albatross by the original incarnation of Fleetwood Mac and Something in the Air by Thunderclap Newman. Lots of great tracks from overseas acts too, particularly the horny Je t’aime… moi non plus by Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, plus the apocalyptic boogie of Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival and ska pioneer Desmond Dekker’s Israelites.

The Best:

Marvin Gaye – I Heard it Through the Grapevine

Originally recorded in 1967, Motown boss Berry Gordy Jr was uncharacteristically blind to the greatness of Gaye’s version of this track. Slowing things down, adding an incredibly cool bass line for the intro, and singing with the kind of feeling that was completely alien to the likes of Engelbert Humperdinck and Des O’Connor, this is soul music at its finest, and peak Motown. To hear just how stunning Gaye is here, check out this clip that’s currently doing the rounds online, which isolates the vocal. Spine-tingling.

The Worst:

Rolf Harris – Two Little Boys

Had I been deciding this before Harris was outed as a paedophile, I’d have said Zager & Evans deserved it, because I, like so many others, had a soft spot for Two Little Boys. Now obviously it just leaves a very sour taste, and it’s a downbeat way to end the decade. 

The Best 60s Number 1 Ever is…

The Beatles – She Loves You

It was always going to be the Fab Four, wasn’t it? They’re the greatest group of all time, so it’s a no-brainer. However, I’d be lying if I said She Loves You has always been my favourite Beatles single. I’d probably say Strawberry Fields Forever or Something, but of course neither went to number 1. But it would be wrong to make my choices for best and worst chart-toppers of each decade simply my favourite. I also look at the impact of each song, ine innovation and the influence it had, as well as the catchiness of the chorus. She Loves You easily covers all three bases. It’s modern music’s ‘big bang’ moment, and as I’ve said before about this and other legendary number 1s, it’s listening to them in the context of this blog that really separates the wheat from the chaff, and Every UK Number 1has truly brought home what a monumental few minutes of pop music The Beatles conjured up here. What alchemy. 

But also, what competition, what an often astounding selection of songs I was honoured to listen to and choose from. It could just as easily been You Really Got Me or (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction, but in the end She Loves You got there first and laid the groundwork that allowed all the other classics to be made in the first place.

The Worst 60s Number 1 Ever is…

The Bachelors – Diane

You could argue it’s unfair to single out Diane because it was number 1 in a year full of brilliance. I’d argue that’s exactly why I’ve given it this dubious honour. It spoiled my listening experience and stuck out like a sore thumb! Its dull tweeness would have earned it a slating if it had been released in 1954. 10 years later, it’s unforgivable really. And if they were the first Irish boyband, well, that’s nothing to be proud of, is it?

The Outro

The 60s were the decade in which pop came of age and became an integral part of the youth movement. From the dreariness of post-rock’n’roll, to Merseybeat, to the British Invasion, to psychedelia, to bubblegum pop and rock, music mutated rapidly, thanks in large to The Beatles, but also The Beach Boys, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and more. Reviewing each number 1 in turn was really fascinating, and has increased my knowledge of the decade greatly, and for me the most interesting parts were just how much Merseybeat completely upturned the charts, and how little impact psychedelia actually had in 1967, due to the rise in popularity of albums.

So obviously it’s the 70s next. The decade in which I was born, albeit very late in the decade (1979). Pop changed and changed again here too, many times, and it was an often dark and turbulent decade in the news, so I can’t wait to get stuck in once more.

Blogs on every 60s number 1 are available to view via the Archive section.