John Lennon’s tender ballad Woman was the first single released after his murder, and his third and final solo number 1. This touching tribute to his wife Yoko Ono served as a sequel of sorts to Girl, from The Beatles’ Rubber Soul. Ironically, it was the first time an artist had replaced themselves at number 1 since I Want to Hold Your Hand replaced She Loves You in 1963.
Before
Only three days before he was shot dead, Lennon told Rolling Stone that he was inspired to write Woman ‘one sunny afternoon in Bermuda’. It suddenly hit him how much women are taken for granted, and Lennon – whose relationships with women were certainly complex, right back to his feelings for his mother – decided to pay tribute to Ono. Ironically, considering the blame Ono wrongly got for breaking up his old band, he considered Woman the most Beatles-sounding track on his final album, DoubleFantasy. This track is also the only example of a song title used by both Lennon and Paul McCartney for their own separate songs. McCartney’s Woman, written in 1966 under the pseudonym Bernard Webb, was recorded by folk duo Peter and Gordon.
Lennon’s Woman was recorded at sessions on 5 and 27 August, and 8 and 22 September 1980. In addition to lead vocal, he also played an acoustic guitar. Joining him were Earl Slick and Hugh McCracken on guitar, Tony Levin on bass, George Small on piano and synthesiser, Andy Newmark on drums, Arthur Jenkins on percussion, and Michelle Simpson, Ritchie Family members Cassandra Wooten and Cheryl Mason Jacks, and Eric Troyer on backing vocals.
Review
Woman was the highlight of Double Fantasy. The LP is often guilty of being too slick, but the glossy production works in favour of this track, rather than against it. Although Lennon considered it a sequel to Girl, it’s lyrically similar to Jealous Guy. He’s directly apologising to Ono again for past behaviour (perhaps the ‘Lost Weekend’?), but also paying tribute to all women. It would be nice to think, after the stories of his sometimes violent history with women, that this was Lennon at his most honest and contrite.
Opening with a barely audible ‘For the other half of the sky’, there’s sterling synth work from Small, and warm Beatles-like guitar from Slick and McCracken. Somehow, despite the sheen, the swooning backing vocals, and the lack of decent lyrics in the chorus, it’s lovely and really charming. And inevitably, this single gained huge added poignancy following Lennon’s death. A fitting Valentine’s Day number 1, indeed.
But what was going on with that chorus? ‘Ooooh, well well, do-do-do-do-do’ was surely a placeholder that Lennon and Ono decided to leave in? And they say McCartney missed Lennon’s quality control…
Speaking of quality control, I have to mention the official video to Woman. I’m in genuine shock. Ono edited the video in January, and understandably, she will have been in pieces. However, the video veers from touching, with footage of the couple in Central Park two months previous, to poor taste, including the pic of Lennon and his killer, lifted from a newspaper. But what’s really shocking is the image of Lennon’s side profile from the back of the Imagine album, made to morph into the last ever photo of Lennon – in the morgue. Unbelievably, this remains in the official video on YouTube.
After
Woman was the last solo number 1 for John Lennon. However, the outpouring of emotion after his death resulted in Roxy Music’s cover of Jealous Guy knocking Joe Dolce Music Theatre from the top spot. Inevitably, people moved on from their grief, and the next single, Watching the Wheels, only peaked at 30.
Three years later, Ono was finally able to work on Milk and Honey, which was the couple’s next projected LP. Lennon’s work was inevitably a little rough and ready as it had been tragically left unfinished, but Nobody Told Me – originally meant for Ringo Starr – was a number six hit. The follow-up, Borrowed Time, was his last original charting single, making it to 32.
Reissues of Jealous Guy and Imagine failed to reach the top 40 in the 80s, but in the 90s the legend of The Beatles grew in stature once more, thanks in part to Britpop and a newfound appreciation of 60s guitar groups. This coincided with the Anthology project, where Lennon’s 1977 demo of Free as a Bird, and 1979 home recording of Real Love, were transformed into ‘new’ Beatles recordings, courtesy of the surviving members and producer Jeff Lynne. Amazingly, neither went to number 1.
In 2010 a new ‘Stripped Down’ version of Double Fantasy was released. The aim was to remove some of the studio gloss of the original album, and sometimes this worked well. Not with Woman. Part of this song’s appeal was in the production. The 2010 version, shorn of sheen, simply sounded like a demo, not a remix. However, it’s noteworthy that you can hear Lennon drawing his breath in at the close, seemingly a deliberate nod to Girl.
Thanks to AI sound-limiting technology used in Peter Jackson’s excellent Get Back project, McCartney finally felt he could finish Now and Then, the Lennon demo from around 1977 that had been started for Anthology 3 before Harrison refused to continue. Hearing Lennon’s voice, shorn of rough-and-ready ghostly tape echo a la those Anthology 1 and 2 songs, was a beautiful, spine-chilling moment. In 2023, 54 years after The Ballad of John and Yoko, The Beatles were back at number 1.
The Outro
For many years, Lennon’s many flaws (and to be fair, he was very vocal about his failings in his lifetime) were forgotten and because his life was cut tragically short, he became a bona fide icon. A Godlike figure, who age did not dull. The cool, edgy Beatle – which understandably irked McCartney to a degree.
But Lennon’s stature has fallen somewhat in today’s cancel culture. McCartney is often now considered the cool one, his family focused lifestyle now attracting plaudits where he was once laughed at. Lennon may very well have been a nightmare in the age of social media, and his musical comeback may have soon resulted in bland MOR pop (the signs were certainly there in some of Double Fantasy).
However, the truth is more complex than that. Lennon was a troubled man and also one of the greatest singer-songwriters there has ever been – anyone arguing he is the greatest would have a very good argument. The extent to which he was mourned when he passed, and his influence on the era’s number 1s, is more than justified.
The Info
Written by
John Lennon
Producers
John Lennon, Yoko Ono & Jack Douglas
Weeks at number 1
2 (7-20 February)
Trivia
Births
8 February: Actor Ralf Little 9 February: Actor Tom Hiddleston 10 February: TV presenter Holly Willoughby 17 February: Conservative MP Andrew Stephenson
Deaths
10 February: Civil engineer Sir Hubert Shirley-Smith 12 February: Tennis player Murray Deloford 13 February: Writer Eric Whelpton 17 February: David Garnett 18 February: Comic impressionist Peter Cavanagh 19 February: Actress Olive Gilbert/Conservative MP Leonard Plugge 20 February: Cricketer Brian Sellers
Meanwhile…
9 February: Shirley Williams resigns from Labour’s national executive committee.
12 February: The purchase of The Times and Sunday Times newspapers by Rupert Murdoch from The Thomson Corporation is confirmed. Also on this day, Ian Paisley is suspended from the House of Commons for four days after he calls the Northern Ireland Secretary a liar.
13 February: The National Coal Board announces widespread pit closures.
15 February: For the first time, Football League matches take place on a Sunday.
16 February: Two are jailed in connection with the death of industrialist Thomas Niedermayer who had been kidnapped by the Provisional IRA in 1973.
18 February: The Conservative government withdraws plans to close 23 mines following negotiations with the National Union of Mineworkers. Also on this day, Harold Evans is appointed editor of The Times.
20 February: Peter Sutcliffe is charged with the murder of 13 women.
It’s one of pop’s sadder ironies that it took the shocking murder of John Lennon to give him his first solo number 1, with a song that begins ‘Our life together is so precious together’. The former Beatle had returned to music in 1980, and was talking about his hope for the new decade in his final interviews. The year instead ended with vigils across the globe for a murdered hero.
Before
‘Let’s take a chance and fly away, somewhere.’
Lennon was born 40 years previous, on 9 October 1940, at Liverpool Maternity Hospital. His childhood was famously a mix tragedy and luck. His father Alfred, a n’e’er-do-well merchant seaman, was away from home at the time. At four, his mother, Julia, gave her sister Mimi custody. Aged six, Lennon’s father visited and attempted to take his estranged son to live in New Zealand with him, but it didn’t happen and there would be no further contact between the two until Beatlemania.
Raised by the well-to-do Mimi and her husband, Lennon was considered the class clown, and would draw surreal cartoons for his school magazine TheDaily Howl. He was regularly visited by Julia, who bought him his first guitar in 1956. Famously, his aunt turned her nose up at this, saying: ‘The guitar’s all very well, John, but you’ll never make a living out of it.’ The 15-year-old Lennon payed no mind to this and started a band – The Quarrymen. In 1957, at a legendary village fete in Woolton, Lennon met Paul McCartney and asked him to join the band.
Lennon’s mother was killed when she was hit by a car driven by an off-duty policeman who was under the influence. The trauma brought Lennon and McCartney, who had lost his own mother to cancer, closer together, but the already wayward Lennon drowned his sorrows and frequently got into fights. Now a Teddy Boy, he was accepted into the Liverpool College of Art.
Despite McCartney’s father’s disapproval, Lennon and McCartney began writing songs together. Despite initial reluctance, Lennon agreed to allow George Harrison into the band. The three guitarists’ ranks were soon bolstered by Lennon’s art school friend Stuart Sutcliffe on bass, even though he could hardly play. By 1960, they were The Beatles, and Lennon was their leader. They went to Hamburg for a residency, along with new drummer Pete Best. Three residences in and The Beatles, buoyed by the drug Preludin and playing stupidly long sets, became a force to be reckoned with.
Brian Epstein became their manager in 1962, and although the rebellious Lennon bristled at the idea of cleaning up their act and donning suits, he relented. When Sutcliffe decided tasty in Hamburg, McCartney took over on bass, and Best was replaced by Ringo Starr before their debut single on Parlophone, Love Me Do.
From The Beatles rise to fame, through to Beatlemania and the British Invasion, Lennon was their acerbic leader. Brilliantly witty, sarcastic, and prone to many unfortunate ‘cripple’ impressions, he and McCartney were the greatest songwriting team of all time. Writing most of their early work together, they co-wrote three number 1 singles in 1963 – From Me to You, She Loves You (the greatest 60s chart-topper) and I Want to Hold Your Hand.
In 1964 The Beatles released their first film – A Hard Day’s Night. Lennon wrote the film and accompanying LP’s title track, and also the 1964 Christmas number 1, I Feel Fine, which featured feedback from Lennon in the intro. The Beatles had begun to widen their sonic palette.
By 1965, despite being at the peak of their commercial fame, Lennon was feeling disillusioned. He was overweight, exhausted by Beatlemania and literally crying out for help, which translated into the title track of their second film – not that their screaming fans were noticing – they were too busy shaking their heads to yet another pop classic. He and Harrison took LSD for the first time, and further experimentation came from one of their greatest mid-period songs, Ticket to Ride – another primarily Lennon song, and another number 1. But in a sign that Lennon and McCartney were growing apart as songwriting partners, they disagreed on their Christmas single, resulting in the former’s Day Tripper sharing equal billing with We Can Work It Out – although Lennon came up with the pleading middle eight of McCartney’s track.
1966 was a tumultuous year for the Fab Four. An interview with Lennon about the decreasing popularity of the church was blown out of all proportion, resulting in a rare public apology, most likely forced on him by Epstein. Nevertheless, records were burned, and Lennon was threatened. All this, plus the group exhaustion with their endless touring, resulting in a decision that would ultimately change popular music. They didn’t go public with the decision, but that August, they stopped performing for audiences. Despite all this, they entered their imperial phase of studio recording. Lennon was integral in this, contributing the concept of backwards recording in Rain and then the amazing experimentation of Tomorrow Never Knows.
The increasingly pioneering sounds coming out of Abbey Road contributed to the cultural zeitgeist of the Summer of Love in 1967. Although perhaps their single finest record – Lennon’s Strawberry Fields Forever, combined with Penny Lane – failed to top the charts, they were at the peak of their creative powers, releasing Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. And Lennon was responsible for the anthemic number 1 All You Need Is Love, too. But Lennon was lost in constant use of LSD, and later said it came close to erasing his identity. This and the loss of Epstein resulted in McCartney increasingly looking like the band’s new leader, and this started to cause problems.
Lennon’s wife Cynthia found her husband at home with the artist Yoko Ono in May 1968, after they had recorded what became the experimental LP Two Virgins. Soon, the duo were inseparable, for most of the rest of his life. This inevitably had an impact on the already often strained relationships of The Beatles, who wrote and recorded much of their eponymous double album as solo songs, which the rest of the band would merely provide backing to. Although Lennon and Ono were turned on to heroin, his decreasing use of LSD saw a return to his more fiery personality. While more experimental than ever on the sound collage of Revolution 9 and the unreleased What’s the New Mary Jane?, Lennon’s pop dominance of the band had decreased so much, he only contributed one song to the two number 1 singles in 1968, and Revolution was relegated to the B-side of Hey Jude – written by McCartney to give comfort to Lennon’s son, Julian, while his parents divorced.
While Peter Jackson’s Get Back has proved that the Let It Be sessions of early 1969 weren’t as miserable as the world was led to believe, the initial sessions were an often bleak affair, yet by the time of their last public appearance on the rooftop of Apple Studios, Lennon was in his element, offering surreal banter inbetween their set, which featured one of his best later-Beatles-period songs, Don’t Let Me Down.
Relieved that the project was over, The Beatles splintered. Relations between the four were not fab, as Lennon persuaded Harrison and Starr to sign Allen Klein as their new manager, while McCartney relented. Lennon focused on Ono, developing their new project, the Plastic Ono Band. Most of the duo’s material between 1969 and 1974 was credited to this revolving line-up, featuring, at various points, Harrison, Starr, Eric Clapton, Klaus Voorman and Keith Moon. Lennon and Ono married that March, resulting in the last Beatles number 1 in the band’s lifetime – The Ballad of John and Yoko. The first Plastic Ono Band release was the anti-war classic Give Peace a Chance, in July, which peaked at two. The band went on a brief hiatus while The Beatles recorded what was to be their swansong. Lennon was absent for some of the sessions after a car accident with Ono, but his raunchy Come Together was promoted to an A-side.
With Abbey Road in the can, Lennon went back to concentrating on his new band, and privately decided he was going to leave The Beatles. The grim account of heroin withdrawal, Cold Turkey, followed, then the concert recording Live Peace in Toronto 1969 was released as the 60s – and unbeknownst to the world – The Beatles, drew to a close. The dream was over.
The 70s got off to a great start for Lennon, releasing perhaps his greatest post-Beatles single, InstantKarma!, which began a long working relationship with the unhinged Phil Spector. McCartney angered Lennon, by announcing he had left The Beatles, as publicity for his first solo album. Lennon had been working through primal therapy, resulting in the raw, often painfully honest eponymous album JohnLennon/Plastic Ono Band, one of the last lyrics of which was ‘Don’t believe in Beatles’.
In 1971, Lennon and McCartney were publicly fighting via song, resulting in the bitter How Do You Sleep? on Lennon’s best solo LP, Imagine. That August he and Ono moved to live in New York and began their association with radical left-wing politics. President Richard Nixon’s administration became determined to deport him. At Christmas the couple released their festive classic Happy Xmas (War Is Over) with the Harlem Community Choir.
Over the next few years, Lennon’s commercial standing began to drop, with he and Ono releasing the highly political but average Some Time in New York City with Elephant’s Memory in 1972. Then aLennon self-produced and released the decidedly poor Mind Games in late-1973 – although the title track is excellent. He and Ono’s marital problems resulted in their separation, and the start of an 18-month period immortalised as the ‘Lost Weekend’, in which he had a relationship with his and Ono’s personal assistant, May Pang. Lennon ran wild, often with Harry Nilsson, drinking heavily and making headlines.
During that time he released Walls and Bridges, featuring one of his best solo songs, #9 Dream. Elton John featured on Whatever Gets You thru the Night – his first US number 1. Lennon had made a bet that that if the single topped the charts, he’d perform live with John, which he duly did. Lennon and Ono were reunited in 1975, and he co-wrote and performed on David Bowie’s first US number 1, Fame. But following Rock ‘n’ Roll, a covers album, in 1975, Lennon went on hiatus to help raise his and Ono’s son, Sean, and would only record the occasional demo when inspiration took hold.
When McCartney released the single Coming Up in 1980, Lennon was impressed and even said so publicly, with the former Beatles having made amends and occasionally meeting during the 70s. Then in June, Lennon was involved in a sailing trip which was hit by a storm. As all the crew fell ill, Lennon was forced to take control, and the incident affected him profoundly. His confidence restored, and with a newfound zest for life, he decided to release a new album with his wife – their first since Some Time in New York City.
Ono approached producer Jack Douglas with a batch of demos, and that August they started recording in secret at New York City’s Hit Factory, as Lennon was concerned the sessions might not be good enough. By September they were more confident and went public that they were back. The newly formed Geffen Records was successful, thanks in part to David Geffen making it clear he regarded Ono’s contributions as the same quality as Lennon’s.
With its warm, nostalgic 50s feel and lyrics about rejuvenation, it made perfect sense to place (Just Like) Starting Over at the start of Double Fantasy, and to make it his comeback single. The song’s origins began with the demo recordings Don’t Be Crazy and My Life. Lennon wrote Starting Over, as it was originally called, in Bermuda, and despite being recorded on 9 August, it was one of the last songs to be completed for the album, mixed at the Record Plant on 25 and 26 September. Featuring on the recording are David Bowie’s guitarist Earl Slick, Hugh McCracken, also on guitar, King Crimson’s Tony Levin on bass, keyboardist George Small, Sly and the Family Stone drummer Andy Newmark and Arthur Jenkins on percussion. Providing the doo-wop-style backing vocals are Michelle Simpson, Cassandra Wooten, Cheryl Manson Jacks and Eric Troyer.
Review
(Just Like) Starting Over (the extra bit in brackets was added to avoid confusion with Dolly Parton’s Starting Over Again) begins with a deliberate callback to Mother, the opening track on John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band 10 years previous. Whereas the bells that toll on Mother are slow and foreboding, and reminiscent of a funeral bell, the ringing here is light and airy, and (sadly ironically) herald a hopeful, optimistic Lennon, softened by years of time as a father and absent from the music business. His fire seems to be gone, he’s retreated into the rock’n’roll of his youth, and he’s perfectly content with that. And so am I.
Lennon might not have thought (Just Like) Starting Over was the best track on Double Fantasy, but it’s one of the strongest on what is otherwise a pretty average album. Had he not been out of the public eye for so long, this track wouldn’t have had that added poignancy, and wouldn’t have sounded out of place on Rock ‘n’ Roll, that ropey collection of mostly poor covers that soundtracked his youth. Gone is one of the best voices of his generation, as Lennon ramps the pastiche levels up even more by singing in a style that brings to mind Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison. Sure, this idealistic vision of Lennon and Ono is schmaltzy, saccharine and most likely somewhat false, but it’s rather charming and lovely. And of course, in hindsight, those lyrics are desperately sad. Thumbs down to the awfully mixed backing vocals, though. Was it a failed attempt by Douglas to capture that echoey 50s sound?
After
(Just Like) Starting Over was released in the UK on 23 October, and a day later in the US. Riding on a wave of goodwill as the world welcomed back an old friend, the single was Lennon’s strongest performing record in the UK since Happy Xmas (War Is Over), which had reached four in 1971. It peaked at eight, and although reviews for Double Fantasy were warning that Lennon had lost his bite (and he was looking older than his years and was painfully thin), the future looked bright. He and Ono had recorded enough material for a follow-up, and with his confidence returning, maybe we’d see some of that fire return. Of course, we’ll never know.
Lennon’s comeback single had slipped to 21 here, and six in the US by 8 December, but promotional work continued for Double Fantasy, released a few weeks prior. At around 5pm, he was stopped outside his home, the Dakota building, by a random fan. Lennon was photographed signing a copy of his new album for the grinning Mark Chapman, and then left with Ono for a session at the Record Plant. At approximately 10.50pm Lennon and Ono returned and were walking through the archway of the Dakota, when Chapman shot him twice in the back and twice more in the shoulder at close range. Lennon was pronounced dead less than half an hour later.
Shocked, confused and in mourning, the world chose to pay tribute to Lennon, who had soundtracked the lives of so many, by listening to his music. In much the same way his hero Buddy Holly’s It Doesn’t Matter Anymore became a posthumous chart-topper after his untimely death, (Just Like) Starting Over inevitably began to sell once more. 12 days after his death, Lennon had his first solo number 1. Such was the magnitude of his loss, it wouldn’t be his last.
The Outro
In 2010 Ono and Douglas released Double Fantasy Stripped Down, which was an attempt to wipe away the studio sheen of the original album. The version of (Just Like) Starting Over is thankfully free of those odd backing vocals, and is OK but pretty inconsequential.
The Info
Written by
John Lennon
Producers
John Lennon, Yoko Ono & Jack Douglas
Weeks at number 1
1 (20-26 December)
Trivia
Births
20 December: Footballer Ashley Cole/Footballer Fitz Hall 21 December: Scottish actress Louise Linton
Deaths
20 December: Locomotive engineer Roland Bond/Footballer Tom Waring 22 December: Magician Lewis Ganson/Physician Thomas Cecil Hunt 23 December: Playwright Frank Norman/Anglican bishop Ambrose Reeves 25 December: Comedian Fred Emney/Explorer Quintin Riley
Meanwhile…
26 December: Sightings of unexplained lights near RAF Woodbridge in Suffolk became known as the ‘Rendlesham Forest Incident’ – the most famous reported UFO sightings in the UK.
Eight years after The Beatles had their last number 1 with The Ballad of John and Yoko, Paul McCartney hit big with his next band Wings. Mull of Kintyre/Girls School became the 1977 Christmas number 1 and the first single to sell more than two million units. It is the biggest selling record of the 70s and remains the bestselling non-charity single of all time.
Before
Following his departure from the Fab Four, McCartney had struggled to recapture the magic of the greatest group of all time. Two albums, McCartney (1970) and Ram (1971) – the latter co-credited to wife Linda, were ill-received, although both have enjoyed improved re-evaluation since.
He decided to begin a new band and invited session drummer Denny Seiwell and guitarist Hugh McCracken, both of whom had worked on Ram, to join him. Seiwell agreed but McCaracken didn’t, so McCartney asked Denny Laine instead. Laine, formerly of The Moody Blues, was working on a solo album when he received the call from McCartney. The album was abandoned straight away.
In August 1971 the McCartneys, Laine and Seiwell assembled to record the album Wild Life. McCartney reverted back to his Beatles days, on bass primarily once more. On 13 September Linda was giving birth to their second child together, Stella. Due to complications, there was a danger that both mother and daughter could die. McCartney was praying for them when the name ‘Wings’ came to mind.
Wild Life was released that December and was slated. Most tracks were recorded in one take, and it showed. Linda was ridiculed by the music press for her role as backing vocalist and keyboardist. Undaunted, Wings continued with the addition of second guitarist Henry McCullough, who had been in Joe Cocker’s Grease Band, in January 1972. They went on their first tour playing universities in the back of a van together. Attempting to recapture the early days of The Beatles, Wings didn’t perform a single track by McCartney’s previous band.
The debut Wings single, Give Ireland Back to the Irish was a controversial response to the events of Bloody Sunday. Banned by the BBC it nonetheless reached 16 on the singles chart. In what was understandably seen by many as a sarcastic response, their next single was a simple cover of children’s song Mary Had a Little Lamb. It went to nine. Hi Hi Hi‘s drugs references saw them banned by the Beeb again but it peaked at five.
McCartney decided to change their name to Paul McCartney and Wings for the 1973 LP Red Rose Speedway, perhaps deciding they needed more star power to improve sales. My Love, one of their best singles, took them to the top in the US and reached nine here. Then came Live and Let Die. Their theme to Roger Moore’s debut as James Bond reunited McCartney with Martin and was brilliant. A deserved number one, it could only reach nine.
Following another tour, Paul McCartney and Wings set to work on another album but soon McCullough and Seiwell left. Both were unhappy with Linda’s inclusion and felt Paul was too domineering. Reduced to a trio, the McCartneys and Laine decamped to Lagos in Nigeria and recorded one of their best albums. The title track to Band on the Run (1973) was a brilliant mini-medley, reaching three. Again, it deserved better. Jet, released beforehand, was a superior rock tune.
Former Thunderclap Newman guitarist Jimmy McCulloch and drummer Geoff Britton joined the ranks soon after. After recording an album with Paul’s brother Mike McGear and The Scaffold they released the single Junior’s Farm, which became their final release on Apple Records. As The Country Hams they released a single with Chet Atkins and Floyd Cramer. Walking in the Park with Eloise was a song written years before by Paul’s father James.
Known as just Wings once more, Britton left the band during the recording of their first album for Capitol Records. He was replaced with US musician Joe English. The first fruits of the sessions for Venus and Mars to be released was the beautifully upbeat Listen to What the Man Said, which peaked at six in 1975. Next album Wings at the Speed of Sound boasted their most commercially successful songs to date, Silly Love Songs and Let ‘Em In, which both soared to two. The latter is perhaps the most quintessentially McCartney 70s tune – a very catchy song about a very mundane subject matter. Someone is knocking at the door and ringing the bell. McCartney suggests someone let them in. Hmm.
Sessions for the next Wings album were interrupted when Linda became pregnant. On 9 August the McCartneys and Laine entered Spirit of Ranachan Studio at High Park Farm in the Mull of Kintyre and set to work on a song he had first laid down in 1974.
McCartney had bought the farm in 1966 and eight years later a piano-led demo had him tinkering with a simple song in which he sang of his love for the area. To give the finished version a suitably folksy feel, McCartney recorded his vocals and acoustic guitar outside. Laine, who is credited on the track, added backing vocals and acoustic and electric guitars and the heavily pregnant Linda sang backing vocal and also added percussion. Wanting an authentic rousing Scottish ending, Wings added Campbeltown Pipe Band on bagpipes and drums. Mull of Kintyre was wrapped up in a day.
Reviews
It was inevitable that eventually McCartney would join George Harrison in the ranks of former Beatles achieving a number 1. Little did anyone know that this would be the one to do it, let alone for nine weeks, toppling She Loves You as bestselling song. I get that Mull of Kintyre has a simplistic charm, extolling the virtues of natural beauty. That, like McCartney songs at their best, it has an inclusive quality, building to a big singalong ending like Hey Jude. That And releasing it in time for the Christmas market, when the older generation like to buy a nice tune, was a great move.
Also, clearly, for some unknown reason, bagpipes did well in pop during the 70s. Remember that an instrumental version of Amazing Grace was the biggest song of 1972?! But I cannot get my head around the mammoth success of Mull of Kintyre. It’s a bit of a dirge to my ears, too simple to leave that much of a mark. But it’s McCartney isn’t it? I can’t deny one of the greatest songwriters of all time a number 1, even if he’s made far better over the decades.
The video to Mull of Kintyre is suitably wistful, featuring Paul strumming on a fence at his farm, Linda in the background. They and Laine stride towards a place overlooking the beach, where Campbeltown Pipe Band are performing. Eventually Wings are joined by locals for a nighttime fire sing-song. Lovely.
One reason I suspect nobody was expecting Mull of Kintyre to do so well was the fact it was promoted as a double A-side with Girls School. Nobody remembers this. Before Mull of Kintyre was recorded, Wings had begun making a new LP in the Virgin Islands. Among the tracks recorded for what eventually became London Town was this track. But Linda’s pregnancy had stopped the sessions. Wings must have decided Girls School deserved equal billing.
It didn’t. Girls School is an average McCartney rocker, akin but inferior to Jet. It’s album filler or B-side material. It also has rather dodgy lyrics, telling of a boarding school where the head nurse runs a massage parlour in the school hall and when the PE teacher puts the students to bed, ‘She gives them pills in a paper cup/And she knocks them on the head’. The soaring backing vocals from the much-maligned Linda are nice, but it’s understandable why it’s been forgotten.
After
Mull of Kintyre/Girls School was released in November and was at number 1 for an incredible two months, from 3 December 1978 until 3 February 1979. It also reached number 1 elsewhere, but not in the US, where Girls School got most of the airplay. That same month sessions for London Town resumed but once again Wings were reduced to a trio as McCulloch and English left. The next single With a Little Luck, a nice little ballad, went to five. But Wings were in trouble.
Later in 1979, with new members Laurence Juber on lead guitar and Steve Holley on drums, they recorded the single Goodnight Tonight, which was their last top 10 hit (five). One last album, Back to the Egg, followed. Produced by Chris Thomas, it featured a more ragged sound and showed a new wave influence. One track, Rockestra Theme, featured members of Led Zeppelin, The Who and Pink Floyd and won a Grammy for Best Rock Instrumental Performance.
McCartney annoyed the other members of the band by deciding to focus on a solo album, McCartney II, but the band resumed for a tour at the end of the year. Unfortunately when the McCartneys arrived in Japan in January 1980, Paul was arrested for marijuana possession. The tour was cancelled and all Paul McCartney and Wings music was banned from TV and radio across the country. Laine formed the Denny Laine Band with Holley and released a solo album, Japanese Tears in December 1980. That title was clearly a dig at McCartney’s arrest.
McCartney reunited again with Martin for the album Tug of War but Holley and Juber were told they were not needed. Laine stayed on board but was having a tough time with his marriage and angry at the flat fee he received for Mull of Kintyre. He announced he was leaving Wings in April 1981. By the time McCartney came round to promoting Tug of War, he admitted Wings were no more.
Although Wings are considered to be just the McCartneys and revolving session musicians, this is unfair, particularly on Laine, who contributed a lot over the years. Years later, Laine would occasionally perform as Wings with other members for one-off events. Laine released another album with a pointed title reference to McCartney – Anyone Can Fly – in 1982. He did however contribute to McCartney’s Pipes of Peace in 1983. He continued to release solo albums through the 80s. In 2018 he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for his work with The Moody Blues.
Seiwell went on to drum for artists including Billy Joel and Liza Minnelli and worked on film scores including Grease II. McCullough’s voice featured on one of the bestselling albums ever. It’s him you can hear on Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon saying ‘I don’t know I was really drunk at the time’. McCullough continued to record and perform, dying in 2016. McCulloch left Wings to join the reformed Small Faces and formed both Wild Horses and The Dukes. But in 1979 he was found dead from heart failure, aged only 26. Britton joined power pop group The Keys in the early-80s and set up a kickboxing school. Juber continued to work in music, recording with Ringo Starr, Belinda Carlisle and featuring on She’s Like the Wind from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Holley collaborated with Julian Lennon and Mott the Hoople’s Ian Hunter.
Linda remained with Paul for the rest of her life, and despite her critics remained in his backing band for tours until 1993. She became an animal rights activist and founded the Linda McCartney Foods company with Paul. In 1995 she was diagnosed with breast cancer and died in 1998 aged 56.
Paul McCartney of course continues with a very successful solo career. His next number 1, with another musical giant, was also very popular but not considered to be among his best work.
The Outro
So that’s 1977 rounded up. A year that was better than the dizzying lows of the year previous. But despite the impact of punk, it made little effect on the year’s number 1s. It would take a few more years for its influence to creep in, in the form of new wave.
The Info
Written by
Mull of Kintyre: Paul McCartney & Denny Laine/Girls School: Paul McCartney
Producer
Paul McCartney
Weeks at number 1
9 (3 December 1978-3 February 1978)*BEST-SELLING SINGLE OF THE DECADE*
Trivia
Births
6 December 1977:Footballer Paul McVeigh 23 December:TV presenter Matt Baker 1 January 1978:Model Alex Leigh/Footballer Phillip Mulryne 17 January:Footballer Warren Feeney
Deaths
20 December 1977:First World War soldier Henry Tandey 25 December: Actor Charlie Chaplin 14 January 1978:Athlete Harold Abrahams 22 January:Cricketer Herbert Sutcliffe
Meanwhile…
3 December 1977: For the second tournament in succession, the England football team fails to qualify for the World Cup.
12 December: Ron Greenwood signs a permanent contract as England manager. The appointment proved controversial, as there had been widespread support for Brian Clough of Nottingham Forest.
14 December: 25-year-old Leeds prostitute Marilyn Moore is injured in an attack believed to have been committed by the Yorkshire Ripper.
16 December: The Queen opens a £71,000,000 extension of the London Underground’s Piccadilly line.
21 December: Four children die at a house fire in Wednesbury in the West Midlands. Due to the firefighter strike, Green Goddess fire appliances are sent to deal with the blaze. 119 people have now died as a result of fires since the strike began, but this is the first fire during the strike to result in more than two deaths.
25 December: The Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show on BBC One attracts an audience of more than 28,000,000 viewers, one of the highest ever in UK television history.
27 December: Star Wars is screened in British cinemas for the first time.
1 January 1978: Otters become a protected species.
11 January: A storm surge in the North Sea ruins piers in Herne Bay, Margate, Hunstanton and Skegness.
16 January: After three months, the firefighter strike ends when fire crews accept an offer of a 10% pay rise and reduced working hours.
18 January: The European Court of Human Rights finds the UK government guilty of mistreating prisoners in Northern Ireland but not guilty of torture.
30 January: Conservative leader Margaret Thatcher says many Britons fear being ‘swamped by people with a different culture’.
31 January: 18-year-old prostitute Helen Rytka is murdered in Huddersfield. She is believed to be the eighth victim of the Yorkshire Ripper.
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 ofCathy’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.
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.
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, butAre 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’sOn the Reboundis 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.
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 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.
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.
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 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, andI 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.
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 classicThe 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 particularA Hard Day’s Night. But they don’t win this time.
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.
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’sI 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.
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.
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 Tearsmay 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 ofThese 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.
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.
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.
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 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 Fireby 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.
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.
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 Sugarby 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.
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.
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.
