The Four Seasons are one of the the US’s most influential doo-wop and pop groups, and along with The Beach Boys, the only ones to enjoy chart success before, during and after the British Invasion of the 60s. Those Jersey boys had five number 1s in the US (plus two solo singles by Frankie Valli), but the nostalgic December 1963 (Oh, What a Night) was the only one to top the UK charts.
Before
The Four Seasons began in Newark, New Jersey with Valli, their most famous member. In 1954, the singer joined forces with guitarist Tommy DeVito and formed The Variatones. For the next two years the group performed under a variety of names before settling on The Four Lovers. In 1956 they released their first single, You’re the Apple of My Eye, and many more followed over the next few years, but to no success.
1959 was an important year in the group’s development. They started working with producer and songwriter Bob Crewe and Bob Gaudio joined the line-up. The following year, The Four Lovers failed an audition at bowling establishment The Four Seasons but according to Gaudio they decided something good must come out of the failure, so they named themselves after the venue and on a handshake agreement between Gaudio and Valli, the Four Seasons Partnership was formed. The original line-up had Valli as lead singer, Gaudio on vocals, guitar and keyboards, DeVito on vocals and guitar and Nick Massi on vocals and bass. They spent much of 1961 recording for artists on Crewe’s labels Topix and Perri.
The Four Seasons’ debut single Bermuda/Spanish Lace got nowhere but all would change with the follow-up, Sherry. Released in 1962 on Vee-Jay Records, it became their first US number 1, went to eight in the UK, and is considered an early-60s classic. The hits came thick and fast,most notably Big Girls Don’t Cry in 1962 and Walk Like a Man in 1963 also becoming US number 1s.
Following a dispute with Vee-Jay, which was also mired in a dispute with The Beatles and Capitol Records, they jumped ship to Philips in 1964. The hits continued, including number 1s Rag Doll/Silence Is Golden the latter a UK number 1 for The Tremoloes in 1967. Massi left in 1965 and after their arranger and former Four Lovers member Charles Calello stood in briefly, to be replaced by Joe Long.
They recorded under several guises over the next few years – as The Valli Boys and The Wonder Who?, and Valli continued to release solo records. His version of The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore, later a UK number 1 for The Walker Brothers, tanked in 1965, but Can’t Take My Eyes off You was a US number two in 1967. However there was a noticeable decline in sales in the late-60s. Considering how unfashionable doo-wop had become, it’s a wonder they could even still enter the charts. But their version of Will You Love Me Tomorrow was their last top 40 US hit for seven years. In a bid to become relevant they recorded a concept album, covering social issues rather than their usual collection of love songs. The Genuine Imitation Life Gazette, released in 1969, performed badly, and The Four Seasons left Philips soon after.
In 1972 The Four Seasons released their first and only album on Motown. Chameleon failed to sell, although one single from it, The Night, credited to Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons, became a favourite among the Northern Soul scene in the UK and was re-released in 1975, charting at seven. Long left, replaced by Don Ciccone and Gerry Polci took up the drumkit. John Paiva joined as lead guitarist in 1973.
Valli had been forced to sing less as a result of hearing loss, so these new members took the brunt of the singing until he had surgery. Meanwhile, Valli went to return to number 1 in the US, when he bought the master recordings for My Eyes Adored You from Motown and took them to Private Stock Records. This single helped the band get signed to Warner Bros. Records.
Who Loves You (a reference to Kojak?) was their first album with the new line-up and it completely turned around their fortunes. They wisely added a disco sound just as the genre was exploding in the US, and perhaps their fans from 10 years previous were ready to relive their youth. Its title track went to three in the US and six in the UK and December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night) came out next.
Originally, this track was called December 5, 1933 with co-writer Gaudio celebrating the repeal of Prohibition, but his future wife and lyricist Judy Parker agreed with Valli that it wasn’t quite right. Parker suggested it should be about the courtship between her and Gaudio. It ended up being a man having a nostalgic look back at losing his virginity.
Review
Were you not to pay close attention to the lyrics, you’d possibly not realise this. I’ll admit I thought it was about a first kiss, or just a date. That’s partly down to the sweetness of the melody and the production, which is slick and drips of innocence and young love and of course those famous Four Seasons vocals only add to that feel. This sole UK number 1 doesn’t actually feature Valli very much. He’s only singing backing vocals and the bridge. Polci is on lead, making this a rare number 1 to feature a singing drummer. And that’s Ciccone describing the orgasm (‘And I felt a rush like a rolling ball of thunder/Spinning my head around and taking my body under’). Belying the innocence are lyrics like ‘you know I didn’t even know her name’ – was she a prostitute?! And ‘Oh my, as I recall it ended much too soon’. TMI, guys.
Knowing how risque this actually is has improved my opinion of it, and like I said, it’s really well-produced. I like the phasing on Valli’s parts – was that done to mask how much is singing prowess had dropped at the time? Whatever the reason, I’m a sucker for 70s noises like this and Shapiro’s keyboards. What I’m not too keen on is the trademark Valli falsetto lead sound of their earlier material – it sets my teeth on edge, so I welcome the difference here. Although Valli is responsible for one of my favourite movie themes – Grease (1978). Brilliant and so cool.
After
The combination of that disco sound and heavy dose of nostalgia for halcyon days made December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night) a smash, and two more from the album, Fallen Angel and Silver Star, went to 11 and three respectively that year. But this return to peak form wasn’t to last. With the exception of Grease, neither the group or Valli troubled the top 30 in either the US or UK again.
The line-up has fluctuated ever since, the only constants being Valli and Gaudio (who is permanently behind the scenes), but they have remained a big draw through their live shows. In 1984 they collaborated with The Beach Boys on the LP East Meets West but it was a surprising flop. Dutch DJ and producer Ben Liebrand updated their number 1 for the 80s dancefloors, but December, 1963 (1988) didn’t trouble the charts. In 1992 the last Four Seasons album to date, Hope + Glory, was released. Valli has occasionally appeared on TV as an actor, most notably in The Sopranos.
Then in 2005 the hugely successful jukebox musical Jersey Boys, chronicling the career of The Four Seasons, brought the band back in the public eye and has toured ever since. A film adaptation produced and directed by Clint Eastwood followed in 2014.
Of the original line-up, Massi died of cancer in 2000 and DeVito of COVID-19 in 2020.
The Outro
December, 1963, renamed Oh What a Night, was also a hit for British dance act Clock in 1996, where it peaked at 13.
The Info
Written by
Bob Gaudio & Judy Parker
Producer
Bob Gaudio
Weeks at number 1
2 (21 February-5 March)
Trivia
Deaths
23 February: Artist LS Lowry
Meanwhile…
2 March: Brent Cross Shopping Centre opens in London.
4 March: The Maguire Seven are found guilty of the offence of possessing explosives used in the Guilford pub bombings of 1974 and subsequently wrongly convicted for 14 years. The decision was reversed in 1991. On the same day, the Northern Ireland Constitional Convention was formally dissolved in Northern Ireland, resulting in direct rule from London via the British parliament.
Taking over the mantle of The Osmonds, the Bay City Rollers were the teen pop phenomenon of the mid-70s. With their cherubic looks, long hair and parent-friendly rock singles, for a time they were considered to be the next Beatles, and were adored by their loyal ‘Tartan Army’.
Before
Their roots began in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1964, with a trio called The Ambassadors. The Longmuir brothers, Alan on acoustic, younger brother Derek on drums, and older cousin Neil Porteous, also on acoustic. They only ever performed once, at a family wedding. From there, they became The Saxons, with Alan changing to electric bass and school pal Gordon ‘Nobby’ Clark joining as singer. While still at school, the band would perform at local dance halls.
Several line-up changes down the line, The Saxons met former big band leader Tam Paton for the first time, and he added them to his roster. By then their repertoire consisted of covers of The Kinks and mainly contemporary US artists.
Some time in the late 60s they decided they wanted a cool, American-sounding name. They settled on ‘Rollers’ but wanted a random US place chosen by a dart throw at a map. The first attempt would have seen them become the Arkansas Rollers, but the second attempt saw the dart land near Bay City, Michigan. Among the nascent Bay City Rollers line-up were bassist David Paton, from 1969 until 1970, and keyboardist Billy Lyall, from 1969 to 1971. Together, they founded Pilot, who hit number 1 in February 1975 with January.
In 1971 the Bay City Rollers signed with US label Bell Records and released their first single, a cover of Keep on Dancing, which was a hit for The Gentrys in 1965. The Rollers were an instant hit, soaring to nine in the UK. But two singles in 1972 failed to chart. That year Eric Faulkner joined the ranks as guitarist. Fourth single Saturday Night narrowly missed out on a chart place the following year and Clark became disillusioned and quit. He was replaced by Les McKeown and when 16-year-old Stuart ‘Woody’ Wood replaced John Devine on guitar, the classic line-up was formed.
Despite never quite reaching the top spot, 1974 was a hell of a year for the boys. Debut LP Rollin’ scored them three top 10 hits with Remember (Sha-La-La-La) (six), Shang-A-Lang (two), Summerlove Sensation (three) andnon-album single All of Me Loves All of You reached four. They were one of the country’s biggest-selling acts, and in 1975, ‘Rollermania’ was coined as they embarked on a UK tour. Tartan was in vogue.
Their next single and the one that finally went to number 1 was the opening track on forthcoming second album Once Upon a Star. Bye Bye Baby had been a hit in the US for doo-wop legends The Four Seasons in 1965, when it was known as Bye Bye Baby (Baby Goodbye). Penned by group members Bob Crewe and Bob Gaudio, the original is leaden by comparison, but Crewe and Gaudio knew how to write hits, and this is the third cover of their songs to reach number 1 – The Walker Brothers had The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore in 1966 and The Tremeloes covered Silence Is Golden a year later. The Four Seasons would have a number 1 in their own right too, co-written by Gaudio, but that’s a year away at this point.
Review
The Rollers’ version is much better, with fuller instrumentation and a faster, more effective rhythm. It opens with a mournful McKeown coming to terms with the fact his time with his loved one is up because he has to leave. But it’s not for the usual reasons you’d find in love songs – especially not by a bunch of squeaky-clean pop idols. No, Bye Bye Baby is about a man saying goodbye to his lover because he’s already married. The evidence is there for all to hear: ‘You’re the one girl in town I’d marry/Girl, I’d marry you now if I were free’… and:
‘Should have told you that I can’t linger There’s a weddin’ ring on my finger She’s got me and I’m not free’.
I have to confess I quite like Bye Bye Baby. The subject matter gives it an extra dimension, and Phil Wainman’s production makes it an infectious singalong. I doubt I’d ever put it on by choice, but over the years I’ve found myself singing it at random times, so it’s got under my skin. On the basis of this song alone, I’d argue Bay City Rollers were a better than average mid-70s pop band, but having heard other material, the constant ‘shang-a-langing’ gets really bloody tedious.
After
Bye Bye Baby held the top spot for six weeks and became 1973’s bestseller, and there was more to come in 1975 for the Rollers. During its number 1 run, the band even got their own children’s TV series, featuring the lads in comedy sketches and star guests dropping by. What was it called? Shang-a-Lang, of course.
The Info
Written by
Bob Gaudio & Bob Crewe
Producer
Phil Wainman
Weeks at number 1
6 (22 March-2 May)*BEST-SELLING SINGLE OF THE YEAR*
Trivia
Births
9 April:Footballer Robbie Fowler 20 April:Civil servant Oliver Robbins 2 May:Footballer David Beckham
Deaths
27 March:Composer Sir Arthur Bliss 3 April: Actress Mary Ure 14 April: Actor Michael Flanders 23 April: Actor William Hartnell 24 April: Badfinger singer Pete Ham (see Without You)
Meanwhile…
25 March: A large rally by the National Front was held in London in protest against European integration.
5 April: One season after their relegation, Manchester United were promoted back to the First Division.
9 April: Classic historical comedy film Monty Python and the Holy Grail was released.
13 April: Cambridgeshire Police believe a 22-year-old woman who was raped at her bedsit was the sixth victim of a rapist who had been operating across the city since October 1974.
24 April: Unemployment exceeds the 1,000,000 mark for March 1975.
26 April: A conference of Labour Party members voted against continued membership of the EEC. Also on this day, Derby County won the Football League First Division title for the second time in four seasons.
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.
