1991 #1s

662. ‘The Stonk’, by Hale & Pace and The Stonkers

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Hot on the heels of The Clash, can we also claim this next number one as part of the recent rock revival…?

The Stonk, by Hale & Pace and The Stonkers (their 1st and only #1)

1 week, from 17th – 24th March 1991

Hear me out! There’s a boogie-woogie rhythm, and a honky-tonk piano… The lyrics are somewhat anarchic, vaguely saucy even, if you try hard enough… OK. No, I admit. This isn’t rock and/or roll. This is the return of the chart phenomenon that brought us such treats as Cliff Richard and the Young Ones remake of ‘Living Doll’: the Comic Relief single.

Those of you who live beyond British shores may never have enjoyed this bi-annual TV fundraiser, in which the great and the good of British light entertainment come together for an evening of forced merriment. Hence why the video for ‘The Stonk’ features Bruce Forsyth, Rowan Atkinson as Mr Bean, and (if my eyes didn’t deceive me) David Baddiel, while it opens with newsreader Angela Rippon being whacked out the way by a red-nosed Big Ben. (It is compulsory for Comic Relief to feature newsreaders doing stupid things. It’s funny, you see, because they are usually so serious.)

If this all sounds completely insufferable, then you’d be right. The gags, such as they are, all land flat. Ich bin ein Stonker… announces JFK, while Neil Armstrong claims one giant Stonk for mankind… Even Shakespeare isn’t safe: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s Stonk? someone asks, which makes no sense on any level. It’s shit, and completely unbothered about it. Proud of it, even. Maybe I’m a miserable sod, but I firmly believe that Red Nose Day would make even more money if people donated on the proviso that it would end an hour earlier for every million raised.

(Note the fact that this is advertised as a double-‘A’ side, alongside the much-loved Victoria Wood. The charts only mention Hale & Pace, however. Perhaps this record’s success had something to do with the other song on offer…)

And yet… I can’t list ‘The Stonk’ as one of the all-time worst chart-toppers. It’s not plumbing the depths alongside ‘Star Trekkin’ (which raised not a penny for charity) or ‘No Charge’ (the least humorous ‘novelty’ record of all time). That cheap, relentless boogie-woogie beat, and the chorus’s strong whiff of ‘The Timewarp’, does sort of hook me in. I didn’t want to, honestly I didn’t, but I’ve ended up tapping my feet.

It was written by comedy duo Gareth Hale and Norman Pace who, despite being TV mainstays throughout the 1990s, somehow never managed to become a part of my childhood. I couldn’t name a single one of their sketches or characters. Meanwhile, despite sounding as cheap and cheerful as a Butlin’s ‘knobbly knees’ contest, it does feature ‘proper’ musicians: British rock royalty even, in Queen’s Brian May and Roger Taylor, Black Sabbath’s Tommy Iommi, and Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour.

In wrapping this post up, I have no desire to ever hear this song again. I doubt anybody has actively listened to it since it left the Top 40 (as is the way with most charity singles). It isn’t on Spotify, and all that’s left as proof that this nonsense was, for one week in March 1991, the best-selling single in the country is this grainy YouTube video…

661. ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’, by The Clash

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Last week, in a recap of the past thirty chart toppers, I made a lot of just how eccentrically the charts have been behaving over the past year or two. And happily, they show no signs of becoming predictable quite yet…

Should I Stay or Should I Go, by The Clash (their 1st and only #1)

2 weeks, from 3rd – 17th March 1991

For yes, we must sound the ‘random re-release’ klaxon one more time: The Clash score their sole UK #1. And once again, as with ‘The Joker’, it’s Levi’s Jeans we have to thank for giving this classic tune a new lease of life (the ad team knew how to pick them!)

We open with a nonchalantly cool intro. Two guitars have a little call-and-response, before a bass guitar so jagged it almost rips your speakers in two. It’s a simple riff, so easy and familiar that my immediate response is to dredge the memory banks to recall if it’s a cover version. It isn’t, but Mick Jones based it, knowingly or otherwise, on ‘Little Latin Lupe Lu’, a sixties garage-band classic.

The whole thing is loveably ramshackle, and a world away from the polished dance hits that have been the sound of the early 1990s. The guitars crackle, Joe Strummer sneers, and the band holler and screech the backing vocals in Spanish. The main lyrics meanwhile, tell the story of a toxic relationship: It’s always tease, tease, tease, You’re happy when I’m on my knees… and the chaotic ‘chorus’, such as it is, does its best to portray the frenzy of a conflicted mind.

The singer’s happy to remain, no matter the torture doled out, but by the end of the song we’re left none the wiser over whether he stays or goes. (I struggle to see how this helped to advertise jeans, but who am I to question…?) I’d call this record pretty poppy for The Clash, as well as assuming it was one of their early singles. But it was the 3rd release from their 1982 album ‘Combat Rock’, making #17 at the time. And despite coming five years after the band’s sixth and final studio album, this re-release was their first Top 10 hit, let alone their first number one.

Over the past few months, rock music has started to creep back in to the upper reaches of the charts (hurray!) If we start with ‘The Joker’s classic rock, then five of the past twelve #1s have been rock of one kind or another: indie rock (The Beautiful South), heavy metal (Iron Maiden), progressive rock (Queen) and now this. Is ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’ more classic rock? Or is it garage? Or is it our first real punk rock #1, a decade and a half too late…? Or should we simply not care, and just revel in proper rock ‘n’ roll enjoying its new-found moment in the sun?

660. ‘Do the Bartman’, by The Simpsons

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As with all novelty singles, I approach this next number one with trepidation, my finger hovering reluctantly over the play button. But the intro actually sounds quite cool: a new jack swing beat and a squelchy bassline. Something by Janet Jackson perhaps, or a Prince ‘B’-side…

Do the Bartman, by The Simpsons (their 1st and only #1)

3 weeks, from 10th February – 3rd March 1991

The only version available on Spotify is the five minute (!) album version – from ‘The Simpsons Sing the Blues’ LP – so I don’t know for how long this intro did its funky thing on the single-edit. Eventually Homer comes in, yelling at Bart for some unspecified misdemeanour. Nobody saw me… I didn’t do it…

From here on things follow a fairly formulaic hip-hop single format: i.e. rapper tells us how great he is. Except here the rapper is a yellow cartoon boy, voiced by a thirty-five year woman (kudos to Nancy Cartwright here, as it can’t be easy rapping while putting on such a voice). There are some fun lines: I’m the kid that made delinquency an art, Last name Simpson, First name Bart… but the song ends up caught between not being funny enough to work as a novelty, yet still being gimmicky enough to annoy. The ‘joke’ wears especially thin on the, it bears repeating, five minutes long extended album version.

The fact that this does almost work as a pop song is probably down to the alleged involvement of Michael Jackson. He’s not credited – his label insisted he couldn’t be – and there are differing accounts of what he actually contributed towards the song, but it seems he wrote some of the lyrics and contributed backing vocals, as well as giving the song its title. He also apparently insisted that he be name-checked (If you can do the Bart, You’re bad like Michael Jackson…) Jackson would also feature in an episode of The Simpsons a few months after this had been a hit single. The video too is a six-minute long MJ-esque epic, in which Bart takes over a school talent show with his new dance routine (or was it all a dream…?)

It’s credited to ‘The Simpsons’, but it’s largely just Bart. Lisa gets a saxophone solo, and Homer gets to yell throughout. Marge and Maggie are conspicuous by their absence. I wonder if, to many British listeners, ‘Do the Bartman’ was their first exposure to ‘The Simpsons’. At the time this was released, the show was just halfway through its second season in the US, and was only broadcast on satellite TV in the UK (I remember it coming to terrestrial TV, on Channel 4, much later in the mid-nineties). If so, the song’s success is quite remarkable, as I’m not sure it holds much enjoyment for someone who’s never seen the show.

Anyway, in this moment ‘The Simpsons’ was on the verge of becoming the biggest TV programme in the world. Between series three and ten it was untouchable, and a fixture in my own house every dinner time. They even managed a second Top 10 single, another hip-hop track (and actually much better than this) ‘Deep, Deep Trouble’. After that, the show came to a natural conclusion in the early 2000s, and is remembered as one of the best series ever, and as a lesson in how to go out on top. Right? No…?

659. ‘3A.M. Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.)’, by The KLF

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I’m going to stick my neck out here, and claim that we’re in the midst of what is the strangest run of number one singles. From ‘Unchained Melody’, past Vanilla Ice and Christian Cliff, Iron Maiden bringing our daughters to the slaughter, Enigma’s Gregorian chanting, and Queen’s ‘other’ epic single… to the KLF.

3A.M. Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.), by The KLF (their 1st and only #1)

2 weeks, from 27th January – 10th February 1991

And on the face of it, ‘3A.M. Eternal’ is a return to the dance music that’s shaped the early ‘90s. If you were being harsh, you could claim it to be a rehash of Snap!’s ‘The Power’, with its Russian radio intro, and its mix of a male rapper with a big-voiced female (the singer belting it out at the start is soul legend P.P. Arnold). But this is The KLF, and with them nothing is what it seems.

For a start, the sound that immediately follows the radio intro is a machine gun, strafing the listener into pieces. There’s all the chanting about the ‘Ancients of Mu Mu’ (the band’s former name). And then there’s the crowd noise, and the announcement at the end that KLF have now left the building… It’s all fake, the S.S.L. in the title refers to a Solid State Logic mixing desk. And there’s the fact that this is actually a remix of a 1989 release of the same name: a deep trance track that failed to chart and that sounds unrecognisable from this much poppier version.

But above all that, one fact remains: it’s a banger. All my talk of comparing it to ‘The Power’ fades away because this, in my opinion, is the far better song. It’s dance music with rock chords, and with about three different hooks: the KLF is gonna rock you chant, the uh-huh-uh-huhs, and the Ancients of Mu Mu. And as fake as it may be, the soaring crowd noise adds an epic, stadium quality to the track. (This was #1 on my fifth birthday, and it’s one of my very favourite birthday chart-toppers.)

This being the KLF, you do wonder if this remix was done with the aim of aping the big dance hits of the age – all the ingredients are there – and in the end making a song that betters them all. They’d done it once before, as The Timelords (they’ve gone under quite a few names over the years…) and the ridiculously catchy, sample-heavy ‘Doctorin’ the Tardis’ from three years earlier. And they weren’t done remixing ‘3AM Eternal’, as a year later they recorded a thrash metal version with crust punk group Extreme Noise Terror, with whom they duetted at the Brit awards, and pretended to machine gun the audience (the original plan had been to disembowel a dead sheep live on stage, before the lawyers stepped in…) The performance is on YouTube, and it’s amazing to think that it was broadcast on primetime BBC.

You’d need an entirely separate blog post to go into sufficient detail on the KLF, Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty, their many guises and their many moments of notoriety. Aside from their Brits performance, shout outs need to be made to their duet with Tammy Wynette on ‘Justified and Ancient’, which made #2 later in 1991, in shades of the Pet Shop Boys and Dusty. And their retirement, when they deleted their entire back catalogue (it was only restored a couple of years ago) and set fire to their remaining one million pounds in royalties on a remote Scottish island.

So there you go. As talented as they were tasteless, and responsible for yet another weird and wonderful number one. You’ll be glad to hear that things aren’t getting any less bizarre either, for up next is the most famous pop star of the age, with the most famous animated family of all time…

658. ‘Innuendo’, by Queen

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It feels like a trick pub-quiz question: which number one hit by Queen is over six minutes long, composed of several sections, in several genres…?

Innuendo, by Queen (their 3rd of six #1s)

1 week, from 20th – 27th January 1991

‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ everyone will shout, and everyone will be wrong. (For Bo Rap isn’t quite over six minutes long…) No, ‘Innuendo’ is Queen’s true forgotten epic. And what an epic. It starts off brooding, and ominous, reminiscent of Led Zeppelin’s ‘Kashmir’, with apocalyptic lyrics such as: While there’s a wind and the stars and the rainbow, ‘Til the mountains crumble into the plain… Freddie bemoans mankind’s inability to live in harmony, and its insistence on dividing people by race, religion and creed.

Then come the flamenco guitars, which to my untrained ears sounds like some serious musicianship (it was played by Brian May and Steve Howe of Yes), and a bridge that sounds like a cross between the monkish chants used by Enigma, and a Disney theme. After all that, it’s hard not punch the air when a trademark Brian May guitar solo comes swooping in, saving this monster from disappearing up its own arse.

It ends as it began, ominously stomping its way to the end of time. It’s hard not to read this as Freddie coming to grips with his impending death, when he asks: If there’s a God or any kind of justice under the sky, If there’s a point, If there’s a reason to live or die. He knew that this was the last album Queen would release in his lifetime, and so the line Through our sorrow, All through our splendour, Don’t take offence at my innuendo… almost becomes a farewell to Queen’s fans and detractors alike.

Ultimately, though, it ends on a positive note: Yes, we’ll keep on trying…And that line is the moment in this bizarre epic that sounds like classic Queen. Otherwise, it’s one of the weirdest #1 singles ever, in an era of increasingly weird #1s. And it’s amazing to think that it’s only Queen’s 3rd UK chart-topper, after ‘Under Pressure’ and the aforementioned ‘other’ epic’. Just think of the classic Queen hits, the ‘Radio Gaga’s and the ‘Another One Bites the Dust’s, that didn’t make it while this beast (described beautifully by one journalist at the time as ‘seductively monstrous’) did.

It’s unfair to compare this record to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, though it’s perhaps inevitable. Bo Rap was the sound of a band in their infancy, four young men going wild simply because they could, because nobody had told them not to, and there’s a great joie de vivre throughout that song (and I say that as someone who would happily never hear it again). ‘Innuendo’ is far darker and much less optimistic, four middle aged men, one of whom was terminally ill, pledging to ‘keep on trying’ despite the odds being stacked against them, and against mankind.

As a teen, I had Queen’s three-disc Greatest Hits. I usually skipped ‘Innuendo’ in favour of the earlier hits (in fact, I think it was on Disc 3, which I barely bothered playing). But writing this post has given me an appreciation of this dark, strange record. The fact that it was a #1 hit is amazing – down to a combination of low January sales and Queen’s dedicated fanbase – but I’m glad it was. The band will be back before the end of the year, for their fourth #1, under predictably sad circumstances.

657. ‘Sadeness Part 1’, by Enigma

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If we thought that Iron Maiden scoring a heavy metal #1 was unexpected, then it seems positively mainstream compared with the intro of our next chart-topper.

Sadeness Part I, by Enigma (their 1st and only #1)

1 week, from 13th – 20th January 1991

For how about some Gregorian chanting (in Latin, of course) to kick off 1991? Chanting that is mixed with a chilled-out dance beat, and then replaced by some electronic pan pipes. It’s the culmination of the new-age vibe that’s been infiltrating pop music over the past few years – think Enya, Simple Minds, even recent Cliff – and it means that this record sounds highly innovative and unusual; and yet truly dated.

A bit later a crunchy guitar comes in, while a woman mutters breathily in French, reminding me of Serge & Jane. These are the moments that lift this record above being something you’d hear in the background as someone performs an aromatherapy massage. I do like the drop, the do-doop-de-doo fill, too. It’s way beyond my usual wheelhouse – I have a deep distrust of anything that could feature in a ‘chillout’ playlist – but there’s enough going on here, a lot even, to keep things interesting.

The lyrics, such as they are, appear in Latin and in French. And if you were thinking a song this weird couldn’t possibly have banal lyrics about love and laughter then you’d be correct. It’s written in the form of an address to the Marquis de Sade (hence the title), the notorious 18th century French author and libertine responsible for some of the most outrageously explicit writing in history. (As an aside, I studied literature at university, and the only time we received a content warning, and were allowed to skip a text if we felt uncomfortable, was as we were about to read Sade’s ‘Justine’. There’s a reason the man gave his name to the term ‘Sadism’…) Anyway. Sade tell me, What are you looking for…? the song asks. Sade, are you evil or divine…?

I’m loath to label this as ‘not good’. When it comes to writing these posts, a record featuring chanting monks and pan-pipes, about a notorious sex-offender, is certainly more interesting to write about than your average dance hit. And it’s amazing how sophisticated dance music has become in the past couple of years, since the Hi-NRG heyday of SAW, and how quickly things have chilled out. But at the same time. ‘Sadeness Part 1’ isn’t something I’d ever incorporate into my daily playlists.

Enigma were a German ‘musical project’, helmed by German-Romanian producer Michael Cretu, and this was their breakthrough hit. And what a hit: number one across Europe, and Top 5 in the US. They struggled to match this success until the lead single from their second album, ‘Return to Innocence’, made #3 three years later. That record ditched the monks and went for more ethnic, tribal chanting.

Since then, Enigma have continued to record without particularly bothering the charts, including a 2006 concept album based on an imagined collision between the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies. Because why not? Cretu’s greatest moment may have come long before Enigma and his championing of world music, though: he played keyboards on Boney M’s 1978 #1 ‘Rivers of Babylon’…