Into 1992 we go, then. A year that it won’t take us long to get through, as it only has twelve #1s – the lowest turnover of chart-toppers for thirty years. Why the charts slowed down so much as we move towards the mid-‘90s is something we might chat about in the coming posts…
Goodnight Girl, by Wet Wet Wet (their 2nd of three #1s)
4 weeks, from 19th January – 16th February 1992
We kick off with Clydebank lads Wet Wet Wet, last heard four years ago singing a peppy cover of ‘With a Little Help from My Friends’ for charity. Since then they’ve grown up: the hair is longer, the mood much more serious… Was this the original boy-band to man-band transition, a path since followed by Take That, Westlife and more…?
It’s a nice enough ballad. Lots of strings, a bit of piano, and an almost a cappella feel to the vocals. Marti Pellow takes the lead of course, but the three others whose names I don’t know weave themselves around him. It could have crumpled into bland, MOR mush; but the chorus is an earworm, with real purpose to it: Caught up in your wishing well, Your hopes inside it…
The video is very 1992, and not nearly as clever as it thinks it is. Why is there a priest swinging on a pendulum? Why indeed? The same applies to the lyrics, really, but if you allow them to just wash over you then the melodies, and Pellow’s voice, are enough to make this an enjoyable, if low-key, start to the year. It seems that Wet Wet Wet had managed to grow old(er) gracefully. It was also my 6th birthday #1, and perhaps that means I give it extra fondness points.
‘Goodnight Girl’ is a bit of an anomaly in the Wet Wet Wet discography. As well as being their only self-penned number one, it was the only Top 10 hit the band managed between 1989 and 1994. It’s pleasant enough, but I’m not sure I can explain why it so spectacularly broke their slump. Was it as simple as it being released in January, traditionally the quietest time for new singles? Anyway, they’ll come back properly in a couple of years, with an (almost) record-breaking mega-hit that will set them up for the rest of the decade, and beyond.
We’ve left them far behind, but before we draw a line under the decade of synths and hairspray, lets rundown the Top 10 records of that era (according to my very scientific ‘Recap’ posts).
I’ve already done a Top 10 for the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Follow the links to see how they panned out.
For the eighties, there are six ‘Very Best’ records, and then four records that came so very close. Oh, and an honorary ‘best’ number one, for reasons that will become evident below. Just to be clear, I’m not retroactively ranking these tunes: these are the ones I picked as we meandered through the decade, even if some I look at now and wonder quite what I was thinking… And I’m restricted to one #1 per artist (the only act who could have had two are… I’ll reveal that later!)
‘Atomic’, by Blondie – #1 for 2 weeks in February-March 1980
We kick off with only the 4th chart-topper of the decade, and a punk-disco-new-wave-funk masterpiece. ‘Atomic’ came in the midst of Blondie’s run of five chart-toppers in just under two years – one of the best runs of number ones the charts has ever seen. Debbie Harry’s vocals (plus her rocking a bin-bag in the video), Clem Burke’s drumming, and Nigel Harrison’s bass playing combine to make something truly explosive (you can read my original post here.) And yet, I didn’t name it as a Very Best Chart-Topper, because Blondie already have one, and this record came along a few months later…
‘The Winner Takes it All’, by ABBA – #1 for 2 weeks in August 1980
What more needs to be written about one of the greatest pop songs of all time? Not much, to be honest, and I already wrote a lot about it here. Usually my ‘Very Best’ Awards are dished out in the heat of the moment (see the next song in this list as proof), but I knew ‘The Winner Takes It All’ would be one of them as soon as I started writing this blog.
‘My Camera Never Lies’, by Bucks Fizz – #1 for 1 week in April 1982
From two all-time classics, to Bucks Fizz’s forgotten final number one. I can still justify picking it, as this is very sophisticated pop, from a band most people only remember as one of Eurovision’s cheesiest winners (a category for which the competition is unimaginably fierce…) Read my reasons for doing so here. And yet, seriously, this is one of the ten best number ones of the eighties?? No Michael Jackson, no Madonna… but Bucks Fizz? To which I say, yes! Why the hell not?? (Though perhaps I should have chosen ‘The Land of Make Believe’ instead…)
‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, by Bonnie Tyler – #1 for 2 weeks in March 1983
Turn around… The ’80s was very much the decade of ‘bigger is better’, and you don’t get much bigger or better than this power ballad. The first of the great eighties power ballads? That’s up for debate, but it’s certainly one of the very best. Tyler gives a performance of total commitment, unwilling to be eclipsed by the ridiculousness of the song, and yet she seems fully aware that she’s helming something quite ludicrous (other over-earnest balladeers, take note). I named this as runner-up, ahead of ‘Billie Jean’ no less, to the record below… Read my original post here.
‘Relax’, by Frankie Goes to Hollywood – #1 for 5 weeks in January-February 1984
The winner of my 3rd ’80s recap, Frankie and the boys tell us just what to do when we want to… you know what. Chaos ensues: controversy, bans, Mike Read in a tizz… Read all about it here. Meanwhile, in the video, Holly Johnson turns up straight from work to his local leather-bondage-piss bar for a night of wholesome fun. In a twist nobody could have predicted, banning the record turned it into one of the biggest-selling hits of the decade. Though the fact it’s a throbbing, pounding synth-pop banger probably also helped. At the time I asked whether it was a triumph of style of substance, and there may be some truth to that. But substance be damned: it’s just too iconic to have been left out!
‘You Spin Me Round’ Like a Record, by Dead or Alive – #1 for 2 weeks in March 1985
Another synth-pop banger was named as my 4th ‘Very Best’ eighties #1. Frankie Goes to Hollywood, alongside Boy George, and all the New Romantics (there was a lot of make-up around at the time), opened the door for gender-bending oddballs like Pete Burns to score hits. It’s not deep, or very thoughtful, but boy does it get you racing for the dancefloor. It was a sign of the Hi-NRG to come, and was the first hit record produced by Stock Aitken and Waterman (and it wouldn’t be an eighties rundown without them!) Read my original post here.
‘The Power of Love’, by Jennifer Rush – #1 for 5 weeks in October-November 1985
I’m a bit surprised that this makes the cut, but then again there probably is room for one more blockbuster power ballad. Runner-up to Dead or Alive above, ‘The Power of Love’ is a slow-building beast of a love song. (Read my original post here.) And the moody video makes no sense, but provides ample opportunity for Jennifer Rush to wander the streets of New York, showing off her spectacular earrings.
‘It’s a Sin’, by Pet Shop Boys – #1 for 3 weeks in June-July 1987
The final three songs hit a much dancier groove, as the beats per minute rose in the final years of the decade. First up is ‘It’s a Sin’, one of the best pop groups of the decade’s best songs. And yes, you can dance to it, but it’s also a scathing look back at Neil Tennant’s closeted childhood. Never has Catholic guilt sounded so catchy… Original post here. PSBs were the only act that could have featured twice on this list, with their cover of ‘Always on My Mind’ a runner-up in my next recap, which was won by…
‘Theme from S-Express’, by S’Express – #1 for 2 weeks in April-May 1988
Enjoy this trip… The final Very Best Chart-Topper of the 1980s… Uno, dos, tres, quatro…! From the first house #1, ‘Jack Your Body’ in early ’87, sample-heavy dance music had started to break through into the upper reaches of the charts. At first, I felt the random samples stitched together seemingly for novelty value rather than sonic pleasure sounded dated. But S’Express were the first act to really get it right, to prove that effective sampling could create something wonderful. Original post here.
‘Ride on Time’, by Black Box – #1 for 6 weeks in September-October 1989
Runner-up in my last ’80s recap, and sneaking in just a couple of months before the deadline, the last song in our countdown is what I called the first modern dance record in my original post. It’s still all samples, and not all of them obtained legally, but you’d be forgiven if you mistook it for an original club banger. Plus, it contains one of the great mondegreens (the lyrics are clearly ‘right on time’) that confused even Black Box themselves when it came to naming their biggest hit.
Honorary Inclusion
‘Stand by Me’, by Ben E. King – #1 for 3 weeks in February-March 1987
I couldn’t not find a place for one of the best pop songs ever recorded. Back in my 86-87 recap, I was torn between naming this outlier as the ‘Very Best’, and giving it to the much more contemporary ‘It’s a Sin’. The Pet Shop Boys won out, but I invented an honorary award so that Ben E. King could take his rightful place at top table. It didn’t even make the Top 20 on its original release in 1961, but was taken to the top of the charts through a combination of the classic movie and a Levi’s advert (Levi’s adverts being one of the less-likely providers of #1s at the time – this was the first of three…)
And so we can finally bid the 1980s adieu. Next up, I head on into 1992…
On November 23rd 1991, Queen frontman Freddie Mercury released a statement announcing that he was HIV positive, and had developed AIDS, confirming years of speculation about his ailing health. Barely one day later another announcement followed: Mercury was dead, aged just forty-five.
Bohemian Rhapsody / These Are the Days of Our Lives, by Queen (their 4th of six #1s)
5 weeks, from 15th December 1991 – 19th January 1992
Which brings us to the final #1 of the year – the Christmas Number One – and the first time a song has re-topped the charts. How to deal with this? Write about ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ all over again? I’d rather not… Or just provide a link to my original post on the song, back when it was a nine-week chart-topper (and another Xmas #1) back in 1975-76? Neither seems the perfect solution… ‘Bo Rap’ may well be one of the best-loved, most innovative, outré pop songs of all time; but it has been played to death. We all know what it sounds like. Luckily, Queen twinned it with a song from ‘Innuendo’, their latest album, and gave us something else to talk about!
‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’ couldn’t be more different from its re-released partner. A lounging, glossy soft-rock tune, with a gentle Bossa nova beat. It’s not classic Queen – it sounds more like a Freddie Mercury solo record – until Brian May’s trademark guitar come chiming in towards the end. Lyrically, though, it’s the perfect swansong.
It was written by Roger Taylor, but lines like You can’t turn back the clock, You can’t turn back the tide, Ain’t that a shame… are sung ruefully by Mercury, in what many have claimed were the final vocals he ever recorded. It’s unashamedly sentimental, and usually that would have me running a mile, but when lyrics like Those days are all gone now, But one thing is true, When I look, And I find, I still love you… are sung by a dying man then they hit much harder.
The video – filmed in black and white to hide just how gaunt Mercury was – is certainly the last thing he filmed, six months before his death. Ever the showman – behold the cat waistcoat! – he asked for the closing shot to be re-filmed, in which he chuckles to himself, looks down, then whispers I still love you… Not a dry eye left in the house.
The lyrics shift from ‘those were’ the days of our lives to ‘these are…’, in a positive message, a sign that even in the shadow of death each day is a gift. Again, this is something I might balk at if it weren’t for the fact that a dying man is singing it. If he believes it then who am I to judge? Personally, I’d have liked ‘The Show Must Go On’ as the posthumous single – much more dramatic, much more Queen – but that had been released a couple of months earlier, making #16.
For sure ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’ wouldn’t have made number one on its own, without either Mercury’s death or ‘Bo Rap’s re-release. A certain run-of-the-mill Elton John song will suffer a similar fate a few years later, caught up in another famous death, becoming one half of the highest-selling single ever in the process. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ meanwhile added five more weeks in top spot to its original nine, becoming the third longest-running #1 ever. And this isn’t the end of the chart-topping story for either Queen or Freddie. But it is the end for 1991, one of the more interesting years for chart-topping singles, with Gregorian chants, rapping cartoon characters, sixteen-weekers, Bono in character as ‘The Fly’, Vic Reeves (because why not?), and it all ending on a farewell to the greatest frontman who ever strutted the stage.
It’s been a while since we’ve had a live number one. And here’s one featuring two of Britain’s best-loved pop stars…
Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me, by George Michael (his 4th of seven #1s) & Elton John (his 3rd of ten #1s)
2 weeks, from 1st December – 15th December 1991
It starts off as George Michael doing a cover of a 1974 Elton John hit. It’s nice enough – Michael is an excellent singer, especially considering that it’s a live recording – but I’m not sure if live recordings are ever better than studio versions. They’re great at capturing the essence of an artist, and sound fine as long as you’re a singer as competent as George Michael. But unless you were there, in the crowd at Wembley Arena in March 1991, is this as enjoyable as it would have been in the studio?
What happens at the end of the first chorus, though, elevates it above most other live singles. The crowd noise rises… something’s happening… and George utters the immortal line: Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Elton John! The crowd’s reaction suggests it was a surprise, arranged for the closing night of Michael’s tour. From then on, this record becomes a moment in pop history. They had already performed the song together at Live Aid in 1985, while at Elton’s recent Glastonbury headline show he touchingly dedicated the song to his late partner in this duet.
What I will say in its favour is that, despite being almost six minutes in length, this cover doesn’t drag. The slow build of the intro and first verse, the revelation, and then the duet are all propelled along by the crowd’s reaction. There’s real drama there. Were this a studio recording then it may well have dragged (which the original does, a bit, despite it eventually reaching a pretty rousing climax, and despite having two out of the five Beach Boys on backing vocals…)
Like the artist they knocked from top spot, Michael Jackson, the 1990s would be among Elton and George’s ‘best’ periods for #1s, despite them being synonymous with earlier decades. It’s only Elton’s second chart-topper of the decade, and that’s already better than his ‘70s and ‘80s returns combined. Meanwhile, apart from his duet with Aretha Franklin, none of Michael’s ‘Faith’ era smashes made number one in the UK.
Aside from the fact that it featured two of the nation’s biggest pop stars, another reason for this record’s instant success (it entered at the top) was that all money raised went to AIDS charities. And our very next chart-topper might explain why, sadly, the disease was at the forefront of the public’s consciousness in late 1991.
This next number one carries a lot of baggage: involving the singer, the video, the theme of the song… So much that it’s easy to forget that it’s actually quite a breezy pop tune, built around an actually quite cool riff. Compared to Michael Jackson’s big ‘80s hits – ‘Billie Jean’, ‘Bad’, ‘Smooth Criminal’ – it’s a lot more ‘pop’.
Black or White, by Michael Jackson (his 4th of seven #1s)
2 weeks, from 17th November – 1st December 1991
It’s also a very modern sounding song, moving from said pop, to rock, to rap, with a tribal drumbeat laid underneath, with effortless ease. By the middle of the decade it will be common for pop songs to incorporate a rapped verse, but this is one of the first chart-topping examples I can think of. The huge change in tone for the middle-eight sticks out like a sore thumb, but also somehow works too, and is our first glimpse into how this is more than just a nice pop song.
I ain’t scared of no sheets, I ain’t scared of nobody… Jackson spits (‘sheets’ referring to the white cloths of the KKK), and the rest of the song’s lyrics are similarly hard-hitting. Don’t tell me you agree with me, When I saw you kicking dirt in my eye… he sings, as the main riff kicks back in again. But the true classic line is kept for the rap: I’ve seen the bright getting duller, I’m not gonna spend my life bein’ a colour…
This being Michael Jackson, though, the message that it don’t matter if you’re black or white comes with a little extra baggage. Compared to the MJ that we saw in the video to his last UK #1 – 1987’s ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’ – he looks a lot less… black. His nose, too, has changed beyond recognition. It would turn out to be a combination of plastic surgery, vitiligo and skin bleaching. In releasing a song called ‘Black or White’, you have to either marvel at Jackson’s confidence, knowing that he was going to invite comment and criticism, or suspect that he was becoming divorced from reality.
Still, he was the biggest pop star on the planet, and the music video premiered to the biggest audience ever. Like many of Jackson’s videos, it’s an eleven-minute piece of cinema. It opens in a suburban kid’s bedroom (the kid being child star du jour Macauley Culkin), before taking us on a tour of the world, as MJ dances with African tribesmen, Native Americans, Thai dancers and Cossacks before ending up on top of the Statue of Liberty. Nowadays you might label it as well-intentioned but clumsy. The most affecting part of the video is the simplest: the face shifting sequence, in which white men morph into black women into Asian men into white women.
The song ends, but the video continues with a five minute long scene where Jackson morphs into a panther, then embarks on a vandalism rampage, smashing shop windows and car windscreens. He got criticism for this, and cut it from later screenings of the video. (Personally, I’d criticise it for being self-indulgent and pointless, rather than encouraging violence…) Years later he edited this section of the video so that he was smashing windows that had been spray painted with racist slogans to better explain his actions. Oh, yeah, and then the video actually ends by cutting to an episode of ‘The Simpsons’, in which Bart has just watched the video to Homer’s annoyance (handily harking back to Jackson’s alleged other #1 from earlier in the year).
It’s a complex beast, then, this single. On the one hand a breezy tune with a positive message, on the other a sign that the King of Pop might have been living up to the ‘Wacko’ nicknames. It was the lead single from ‘Dangerous’, his last truly great album (though one that still probably couldn’t quite live up to its 1980s predecessors). Despite that, the 1990s would end up being Jackson’s most successful decade of all for number one singles, with three more to come… And I’m going to spoil things by saying that ‘Black or White’ is probably the best.
One glance at our next number one, and there’s an involuntary shiver. A comedian, a cover of a well-loved classic… It’s not that long since Hale and Pace were bothering the charts with their charidee dance-a-thon ‘The Stonk’. Is this the latest assault on the charts in the name of a ‘good cause’…?
Dizzy, by Vic Reeves & The Wonder Stuff (their 1st and only #1s)
2 weeks, from 3rd – 17th November 1991
Thankfully, no. It wasn’t for charity – more of cash-in of Vic Reeves being the hot young thing of British comedy – and, more importantly, it’s actually quite good! It’s a faithful cover of Tommy Roe’s 1969 original: slightly more frenetic, glossier in that early nineties sort of way, with a baggy Madchester beat. You can just about picture Bez shaking his maracas along to it.
Like ‘The Fly’ right before it, this feels very ‘90s’. In fact, could we claim that this is the very first Britpop #1? The Wonder Stuff were an indie band (well, technically they were ‘grebo’) who had been scoring lower-level Top 40 hits since the late 1980s, and had recently made the Top 5 for the first time. And yes, ok, Britpop isn’t officially supposed to start until Suede burst on to the scene a few months after this, but I’m claiming this as a sneak-preview of what’s to come in the middle of the decade. Plus, it’s a sixties throwback, and we know how indebted to that decade Britpop was.
Either way, it’s clear that the past two chart-toppers have been pure palate cleansers, trying to wash away the aftertaste of Bryan Adam’s ‘(Everything I Do)…’, which had been left lying out at number one so long it had started to rot. You always get the #1 that kickstarts a decade starts properly. With the sixties we had to wait until Gerry & The Pacemakers in 1963, while T Rex kicked the seventies off in style with ‘Hot Love’ in early ’71. The eighties were a more complex beast, because in some ways they started with Blondie, Gary Numan and The Boomtown Rats in 1978-9. Or, if your definition of the eighties involves more face-paint, then we had to wait until Adam & The Ants in 1981.
Still, I feel confident in proclaiming that the nineties start (around about) here. Not least because Vic Reeves would become one of the most popular television stars of the decade: ‘Shooting Stars’, ‘Big Night Out’, and ‘The Smell of Reeves and Mortimer’ were all big comedy shows: surreal, anarchic, all capturing the spirit of the time. (His partner for much of this, Bob Mortimer, features as a backing vocalist in the video to ‘Dizzy’.)
Helping this cover even further, as well as a competent indie band and a clever choice of song, is the fact that Reeves can carry a tune. Pre-fame he had played in several bands as a bassist/singer – he was born Jim Moir, and his stage-name is an amalgam of his two favourite singers, and two predecessors at the top of the charts, Vic Damone and Jim Reeves. One of the best things about this song is the fact that his northern accent – he grew up in Darlington – unashamedly shines through.
Up next, for all my talk of it officially being ‘the nineties’, is a gigantic comeback single for a megastar of the 80s. And the 70s. In fact, his very first release was at the end of the sixties…
After four months, sixteen weeks, one-hundred and twelve days… a long old time however you want to count it… something desperately needed to end Bryan Adams’ record-breaking run. Thank God for U2, then, and the lead single from their seventh album.
The Fly, by U2 (their 2nd of seven #1s)
1 week, from 27th October – 3rd November 1991
And it’s a real palate cleanser after the thick stodge served up by Bryan. ‘Achtung Baby’ was a big departure for U2, away from the new-wave rock of their early albums. Away even from ‘Rattle and Hum’, and the stripped back rock ‘n’ roll of their first #1 ‘Desire’. ‘The Fly’ was intended as an opening statement: this is where we are now.
Where they were now was distorted, industrial rock, with clear influences from the musical movement of the time: electronic dance. Everything is drenched in a murky reverb, even Bono’s half-rapped verses, and his falsetto vocals in the chorus. It must have surprised fans who’d fallen in love with ‘Pride (In the Name of Love)’, or ‘With or Without You’.
Despite this being U2, and a number one single, I don’t think I’d properly listened to ‘The Fly’ before today. It was the album’s biggest hit, but I’d say the subsequent singles – ‘One’, ‘Mysterious Ways’ and ‘Even Better Than the Real Thing’ – have left a bigger cultural mark. But I like it: it’s uncompromising, innovative, and the most ‘nineties’ number one so far. We’re almost two years into the decade, and this is first chart-topper that categorically couldn’t be mistaken for coming any earlier.
I said we needed something to kick the overblown ‘(Everything I Do)..’ out the way. And it’s funny, because U2 aren’t the first band you’d normally turn to for unpretentious rock ‘n’ roll. If you dig a little deeper into the song, you’ll find that it believes in itself every bit as much as its predecessor. It’s sung, according to Bono, by a character called ‘The Fly’, who’s in hell but who’s actually quite loving life down in the fiery pits: Look I gotta go, yeah, I’m running out of change… the song ends with… There’s a lot of things, If I could I’d rearrange…
Luckily, you can ignore the brainy stuff and lose yourself in the song’s cool groove. It rocks, whatever the message, and U2 are at their best when they rock. Luckily for this blog, many of their lead singles, and therefore their number ones, do instantly leap from the speakers. Oasis were good at this, too: picking for a lead single not the best song on an album, but the one that made the most noise and the biggest statement. Yes we’re back, ‘The Fly’ seems to say, and we’re the biggest band on the goddamn planet!
This record is very modern in another way, too. Since the mid-eighties, guitar-led music has lost its place as the driving force in pop. Rock bands now can often only make #1 with a lead single, such as this, propelled to number one thanks to their fanbase (see also Queen’s ‘Innuendo’, and Iron Maiden’s ‘Bring Your Daughter…’) Rock has made a comeback of sorts in the 1990s, but under limited terms. Never again will it be the default sound of the charts.
(Everything I Do) I Do It for You, by Bryan Adams (his 1st of two #1s)
16 weeks, from 7th July – 27th October 1991
The 1980s gets the rep as the era of the power-ballad, when big drums and even bigger hair stalked the pop landscape. And yes, the ‘80s gave us ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, ‘Take My Breath Away’, ‘The Power of Love’… All gigantic anthems. All of them, to me at least, pretty good. But the 1990s was when power ballads really started to bulk up, to hit the gym, to mutate, Jurassic World-style, into the beast that stands before us now…
Everything about this record is colossal. The slow-build intro, the strained vocals, the sentiment, the production… Nothing is subtle, nothing left to chance. The title, even, tells you exactly what sort of song this will be before you even press play. The listener is not required to think; they merely have to submit to its awesome power. I bet very few of the couples who’ve chosen this as a first dance at their wedding actually like the song; they’ve just been bludgeoned into submission, a sort of musical Stockholm syndrome.
I could pick any line from ‘(Everything I Do…)’ and bask in its cliched stupidity. It’s all the sort of the stuff even a lovestruck fourteen-year-old would think was too overwrought. Take me as I am, Take my life, I would give it all, I would sacrifice… Bryan Adams growls. I get that we live nowadays in a more cynical age, but did anyone actually take this seriously at the time?
Well, probably. Because a record this overblown couldn’t just have a couple of weeks at #1. Not even a couple of months would suffice. No, ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You’ needed sixteen long weeks at the top to get its message across. It famously holds the record for the most consecutive weeks at number one (though not the most weeks in total: Frankie Laine’s ‘I Believe’ racked up eighteen over three different runs in 1953). And the UK wasn’t alone in suffering through a summer (and autumn) of Adams. It was #1 for seven weeks in the US, nine in his homeland of Canada, eleven in Australia, and twelve in Sweden.
But there’s a reason why this record, despite its success, has been semi-forgotten, and earlier power ballads by Bonnie Tyler and co remain well-loved. ‘(Everything I Do)…’ just isn’t fun. There’s nothing here that isn’t full-on, one-hundred percent sincerity. And for a power ballad to truly work, you need to feel that the singer is aware, on some level, that what they’re singing is ridiculous. And yet here’s this behemoth, with all the charm of a constipated brontosaurus. Adams isn’t an insufferable guy – he’s recorded plenty of fun, upbeat songs – but this one…? It’s way too earnest.
It’s also probably an indicator of where we are, in pop music terms. The fun of glam metal has fizzled out, and grunge hasn’t quite broken through yet. (Symbolically, ‘Nevermind’ was released right in the middle of this record’s long, long run at the top…) Glam metal hadn’t made much impact at the top of the British charts (neither would grunge for that matter), but it did mean that guitars slowly returned to the mainstream and allowed huge hit singles like this. (Compare this with a power-ballad from the mid-eighties, and it’s much more ‘rock’.)
This single was of course from the soundtrack to ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’, the ginormous box-office hit of that summer. Chart-toppers from movie soundtracks have been around since the dawn of the charts, but it does feel as if they are taking over in the early nineties. Of the last five #1s, all have been from soundtracks (if we count stage shows as well as films). And this won’t be the last theme song to make it to double-figures at the top of the charts. We’ve got plenty more of these mutant power-ballads to come soon… Brace yourselves.
(For some reason, the single-edit version of the video to ‘(Everything I Do)…’ seems to have been erased from history in favour of the six and a half minute album version.)
Jason Donovan’s final UK number one throws us a bit of a curveball… Musical theatre chart-toppers are generally few and far between, as are hit songs based on bible stories. But perhaps the strangest thing about this song is Jason himself…
Any Dream Will Do, by Jason Donovan (his 4th and final #1)
2 weeks, from 23rd June – 7th July 1991
Given a blind listening test, there’s no way you would peg this for the same guy who just two years ago was singing ‘Too Many Broken Hearts’. He sounds so proper, so refined. Not that he was a hellraiser back in his SAW days; but he’s gone full musical the-ay-tah, pronouncing every syllable and projecting his voice right to the cheap seats. My gran, whose main requirement in a singer was that you could ‘make out what they were saying’, would have approved.
Away from JD, the record’s production is average, verging on cheap, and the kids’ choir in the background sounds phoned-in. It is of course from ‘Joseph and The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat’, an Andrew Lloyd-Webber/Tim Rice musical based on the story of Joseph, from the Book of Genesis. They had written it in the late sixties, but the show hadn’t had a run in the West End for almost twenty years before a revival, starring Donovan as the title character, turned it into one of Britain’s best-loved musicals. Lloyd-Webber, meanwhile, scored his second #1 in under a year, after bringing us Timmy Mallett and his infamous bikini…
It’s a well-trodden path. A pop star’s hits begin to dry up and so they migrate to the stage. Not that Jason Donovan had fallen that far from his heyday – his second album had produced three Top 10 hits, though no #1s – but perhaps he could see which way the wind was blowing. It was a smart move, bringing him to the attention of a whole new audience, and gaining him a pretty unexpected swansong at the top of the charts.
If I’m honest, it’s hard for me to judge this song with any sort of impartiality. We have, in fact, reached a massive milestone. After five and half years of writing, and six hundred and sixty-six number ones (note the irony of a bible-based song being the 666th…) we arrive at the first chart-topper that I was actually aware of at the time. In fact the soundtrack to ‘Joseph…’ was the first CD I ever owned, while I went on a Sunday school trip to see the show in Edinburgh (though by that point I believe it was Phillip Schofield in the starring role).
And so, what would otherwise be a fairly unremarkable chart-topper, save for the odd coda it gave Donovan’s chart-career, takes on great significance. For me, at least. I can’t hear the soaring A crash of drums, A flash of light… line without picturing that old worn-out CD (although my favourite songs at the time were the country-ish ‘One More Angel in Heaven’ and the unhinged jazz-polka of ‘Potiphar’).
I’ve written before about Jason Donovan (and Kylie) being pop ground zero for older millennials like me. Kylie may have gone on to slightly bigger things – she’s literally back in the Top 10 as I write this, aged fifty-five, an absolute icon – but Jason has remained in the public eye for better (a plethora of stage and light entertainment shows) or worse (lawsuits and drug addiction). When I was a student, the mere suggestion that he might be making a private appearance at a nightclub would be enough to sell the place out. (It happened several times, and he never once turned up…) So here’s to you, Jason Donovan. Not many pop stars had a bigger impact on my formative years.
I arrive at this next chart-topper, and a question immediately springs to mind: what’s worse – the name of the song, or the name of the group?
I Wanna Sex You Up, by Color Me Badd (their 1st and only #1)
3 weeks, from 2nd – 23rd June 1991
I mean, both could win the pop music equivalent of the Razzies. But for me it’s the song title that is a smidge more excruciating. And that’s because it lends its name to four minutes of cringe-inducing boyband R&B. Come inside take off your coat, I’ll make you feel at home… squeaks a Poundshop Prince. The lyrics start of icky – all lighting candles and pouring wine – and only get ickier…
For example: Disconnect the phone so nobody knows… Personally, I don’t see disconnecting the phone as a sexy move; more a creepy, ‘there’s no escape’ kind of move. And then there’s the piece de resistance: making love until we drown… dig… Drown in what, dare I ask? (Vomit, probably, given the way these lyrics are making me feel.)
There’s a spoken-word section, of course, though it’s more of a whispered-word section: Just lay back, Enjoy the ride… The only redeeming moments in the song are the two hooks – the ooh-ooh-eeh-ooh and the tick tock ya don’t stop – that run on a loop. In fact, if you can block out the lyrics, the song itself sounds very modern. If I hadn’t known, then I’d have placed it in the mid-to-late nineties, rather than 1991. The song featured on the soundtrack (another soundtrack #1!) to ‘New Jack City’, an action-crime movie featuring the likes of Chris Rock, Wesley Snipes and Ice-T.
Was this controversial at the time? Few #1s have been this upfront about sex, save for Serge and Jane, and Frankie saying ‘Relax’. (Off the top of my head, I believe this might be the first chart-topper to feature the word ‘sex’ in its title.) Or did people just write it off as simply too ridiculous to be a threat to young and impressionable minds? The video is nowhere near as saucy as it might have been, mainly featuring the four Badds sauntering along railway tracks, like NKOTB’s moody older brothers. And, of course, it seems very PG-13 compared to some of the songs that have made number one between then and now, from ‘Freak Me’ to Megan and Cardi B’s wet-ass you-know-whats…
Color Me Badd were four high school friends from Oklahoma, who were helped on their way to brief stardom by Robert Bell of Kool & The Gang, who found them a manager, and Bon Jovi, who let the boys open for them at a concert in New York. They were a racially diverse group, too: one white, one black, one Mexican, and one part Native-American.
They had two further #1s in the US (where ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’ stalled at #2), including the actually pretty great ‘All 4 Love’, which was their only other UK Top 10. They split up in 1998. They’ve left behind a complicated legacy: some sources list this as one of the ‘50 Worst Songs Ever’, while others have it as one of the ‘100 Greatest Songs of the ‘90s’. Personally I’d lean towards the former, though it is so silly in places that it almost becomes quite fun.
The UK Number Ones Blog 