1995 #1s

731. ‘Earth Song’, by Michael Jackson

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You can approach this next number one very cynically, if that’s your thing, as there’s lots to be cynical about…

Earth Song, by Michael Jackson (his 6th of seven #1s)

6 weeks, from 3rd December 1995 – 14th January 1996

For his sixth solo UK chart-topper, the King of Pop, long-since divorced from reality, fully realises his Messianic potential. What about elephants? he demands of us, towards the end of this colossal track. Have we lost their trust? Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker certainly let us know what he thought, famously mooning Jackson’s performance of the song at the Brit Awards.

But, once your eyes have completed their rolling, and you stop to listen to ‘Earth Song’, then you can’t help but be impressed. You might not want to hear it every day, but the very fact that he conceived of, wrote, and recorded this track, and then managed to sell the message in a way that only Michael Jackson could – largely through the conviction in his whoops and hollers – is darned impressive. Like ‘You Are Not Alone’, this is a lullaby underneath all the dressing (Jackson intended it to be simple, so that it could be understood right across the world). But what dressing… When the drums and funky bass kick in it’s a bit of a moment, as is the gigantic key change. The last three minutes is basically MJ berating us about the state of the planet, accompanied by a wind machine and a gospel choir.

And, let’s be honest, much of what he’s singing about is true. It was true in 1995, and it’s true thirty years on. What about children dying?…Can’t you hear them cry?… Where did we go wrong?… Someone tell me why… It’s preachy, sure, but he ain’t wrong. Of course, though, sending this song to number one is a lot easier than actually changing our ways, and if Jackson truly thought this would make any difference to the fate of the human race then he was Wacko indeed.

The video too is every bit as OTT as you might expect. I can remember watching it on ‘Top of the Pops’ at the time, aged almost ten, and being captivated. Watching back now, it’s painted in very broad strokes, but it’s vivid, and memorable. Dead elephants, felled trees, someone clubbing a seal… Then through his sheer bloody star power, clinging to some tree stumps, Jackson undoes all the damage, and we live happily ever after.

At the end of the day, most people are more Jarvis Cocker than they are Michael Jackson. And most of the time, that is a good thing. ‘Earth Song’ is preposterous, and overblown, and now interestingly forgotten among his illustrious back catalogue. But it also delivers an uncomfortable truth, however clumsily the message is conveyed.

This was the 1995 Christmas #1, famously holding off The Beatles’ much feted ‘comeback’ single ‘Free As a Bird’ (they’ll manage their 18th chart-topper, eventually). It also wraps up a very odd, very underwhelming year, in which the charts have felt at odds with what people were actually listening to. One interesting thing, though, to chart geeks like me, is that 1995 was the year where singles suddenly started entering at #1. What was once a freak event, marking an act out as the very biggest in the land, was happening much more often. From ‘Back for Good’ to ‘Earth Song’, all but two #1s were held-back, heavily promoted songs that entered at the top. This will continue as the nineties progress, with the turnover of number ones increasing all the time as well.

730. ‘I Believe’ / ‘Up on the Roof’, by Robson & Jerome

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Oh yes, time for more golden-oldies karaoke, from your granny’s favourites.

I Believe / Up on the Roof, by Robson & Jerome (their 2nd of three #1s)

4 weeks, from 5th November – 3rd December 1995

This time, they resurrect one of the very biggest number one singles. The biggest ever, if ‘weeks at number one’ is the metric we’re using. Frankie Laine’s original racked up eighteen weeks at the top way back in 1953. It was just the 9th #1, and it’s pretty amazing to think that its record still stands over seventy years on.

And for such a massive single, I feel it’s been a little forgotten (1953 was a long time ago, to be fair) and so it’s good in a way that it had another moment in the sun. And R&J’s take on it is… okay. Better than either of the tunes on their first single. It’s still cheap, still karaoke; but it doesn’t cloy as much, and builds to a fairly soaring climax. Maybe that’s testament to the quality of the song…

 Plus, it’s short – barely two minutes, like Laine’s version – and ‘shortness’ is ideal when these two take to the mic. Sadly, any mild positivity I can muster here is wiped out by the flip side of this disc: a version of The Drifters’ ‘Up on the Roof’ which takes the duo to new levels of tackiness. It is truly dreadful – synthy horns and horrible Disney princess tinkly bits. That this is a timeless classic’s only appearance at #1 (anywhere, as far as I can tell!) is genuinely criminal.

Equally criminal to some is the fact that this record held Oasis’s ‘Wonderwall’ at #2. However, thanks to Oasis not lacking for #1 singles, and thanks to ‘Wonderwall’s annoying ubiquity, I don’t class that an upset as heinous as this pair’s first single holding off ‘Common People’.

One thing I do notice, listening to these two songs, is that Robson & Jerome’s singing voices sound different. Better, more polished, than on ‘Unchained Melody’, or on ‘White Cliffs of Dover’. Whether this was the result of singing lessons, or something more sinister, I don’t know. Des Dyer, formerly of ‘70s band Jigsaw, made allegations that it was him singing on the records. He was paid off, and told to shut up. Much later, Mike Stock admitted that the duo’s vocal’s were ‘patched up’ by sessions singers.

Whether or not they were singing on these songs, it didn’t do them much harm. While not quite as successful as their debut, this record still made a month at #1 and reached almost a million sales. An album inevitably followed, on which they murdered The Beatles, The Monkees, The Walker Brothers, and Elvis, as well as ‘Amazing Grace’ and ‘Danny Boy’. At least they didn’t cling on at the top to become one of the worst Christmas Number Ones. For the King of Pop had other ideas…

729. ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’, by Coolio ft. LV

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Although 1995 is turning out to be a fairly – let’s be blunt – crap year for number one singles, it’s also turning out to be a year of firsts at the top of the charts.

Gangsta’s Paradise, by Coolio ft. LV (their 1st and only #1s)

2 weeks, from 22nd October – 5th November 1995

We’ve had our first Britpop #1s, as well as our first ‘Explicit Warning’ chart-toppers. You could also argue that Robson & Jerome, with Simon Cowell as mastermind, heralded the start of the ‘TV personality as pop star’ age, which will dominate the next twenty years of British pop music. And as we draw towards the year’s end, here comes our first proper rap #1.

We’ve had plenty of hip-hop at #1 before this: Vanilla Ice, Partners in Kryme, Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince… Throw in the Simpsons, and John Barnes, and it’s clear that rap has struggled to be seen as much more than a novelty. Until now, for this is uncompromising hip-hop: undiluted, comfortable in its own skin, not softening its edges in looking for widespread appeal.

Coolio weaves a tale of life on the streets, a life of drugs and violence that often leads to death: You better watch how you talkin’, And where you walkin’, Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk… In it, the singer both recognises his situation: Why are we, So blind to see, That the ones we hurt, Are you and me…? and sees no way out: They say I gotta learn, But nobody’s here to teach me, If they can’t understand it, How can they reach me?

Heavy stuff, but it’s lifted to classic status by one of the all-time great samples. Stevie Wonder’s ‘Pastime Paradise’ provides a compelling, propulsive melody around which Coolio tells the story. LV, who sings the chorus, changes ‘Pastime’ to ‘Gangsta’, while a gospel choir provides the finishing touch.

The record’s authenticity must have struck a chord, as it became the UK’s highest-selling hip-hop record in fairly short order (today it sits well inside the Top 50 highest-selling singles in British chart history). It featured on the soundtrack to the Michelle Pfeiffer film ‘Dangerous Minds’ – Pfeiffer also appears in the video – which may have helped in its success. But probably not to the extent that the song wouldn’t have been a hit without it.

I’ve called this the first ‘proper’, ‘modern’ rap #1, but I’ve been reluctant to call it the first ‘gangsta’ rap number one. Mainly because the word is literally there, in the song’s title, and it feels slightly lazy. Plus, while the song’s themes may be pretty gangsta, the lyrics are all quite PG. They weren’t originally, however – Coolio had written a much more explicit version, but Stevie Wonder refused to sanction the sample until he cleaned it up.

Swears or no swears, this is a brilliant song, one of the best that 1995, if not the entire decade, has to offer. I also realised, while writing this post, how many of the lyrics I could remember. I certainly wasn’t rapping along at the time, so they must have entered my brain through cultural osmosis over the years – always a sign of a song’s classic status. Coolio went on to have three more Top 10 hits, including ‘C U When U Get There’, which has an equally famous ‘sample’. And of course, just as importantly for people of my vintage, he recorded the ‘Keenan & Kel’ theme song. He died following an overdose two years ago, aged just fifty-nine.

728. ‘Fairground’, by Simply Red

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By late-1995, a decade into their chart careers, were Mick Hucknall and Simply Red overdue a massive, chart-topping hit, or would it be better for all if this had never happened…?

Fairground, by Simply Red (their 1st and only #1)

4 weeks, from 24th September – 22nd October 1995

I can’t say I’m a huge fan of, or much of an expert in, Simply Red’s music. It’s always seemed a little too glossy, a little too smooth… Blue-eyed soul in its slickest form. But the verses here are not what you might expect, from Simply Red or indeed from any number one single. There’s a hypnotic samba beat, trippy flutes, and Hucknall trilling about pleasure at the fairground, almost freestyling. It’s odd, slightly haunting; but captivatingly so.

And then comes the chorus, the most famous chorus of the band’s long career, and it’s such a sledgehammer that it obliterates the rest of the song. The subtle verses are overwhelmed by Mick Hucknall belting out the And I love the thought of coming home to you…! line. An ear-catching piece of music for sure, and in the moment you can hear why this record went on to become their biggest hit. Certain songs have moments where you can pinpoint exactly why they become huge smashes, and this is one.

 It was the lead-single from Simply Red’s fifth album, and was so highly anticipated that it crashed straight in at #1, with weekly sales beaten only by 1995 juggernauts Blur, Take That, and, of course, Robson & Jerome. What’s interesting is that the distinctive samba drumbeat that forms the backbone to ‘Fairground’ had featured in the UK Top 5 less than two years before, it being a sample of the largely instrumental ‘Give It Up’, by The Good Men.

 Another reason I’ve long been suspicious of Simply Red’s music, aside from the glossiness, and the reliance on overwrought covers of soul classics, is Mick Hucknall himself. Pop music’s most famous ginge (until you-know-who came along) was someone that I, as a fellow ginger, felt a little embarrassed by. Growing up, it was either him, or Chris Evans, and neither did much for our reputation. Take the ‘Fairground’ video as an example: the shades, the awkward dancing… And yet it did him no harm. He claims to have slept with a thousand women, including Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Helena Christensen. Maybe I should be embracing him, then, as there are shockingly few ginger sex symbols…? My conflict is encapsulated in the fact that his band name may be a reference to his hair colour (cool! represent!), or to the fact that he’s a Manchester Utd fan (aw, man…)

I mentioned the video to ‘Fairground’ a moment ago, and watching it back just now I was hit by a huge wave of nostalgia. Hucknall larking around Blackpool Pleasure Beach… For a moment I was in my family living room, post-dinner, curtains drawn, on our old brown sofa watching Top of the Pops. A memory I didn’t even know I had before writing this post. I expect even more Proustian reactions to coming number ones, as we march on through my childhood.

727. ‘Boombastic’, by Shaggy

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In our last post, Michael Jackson was putting his syrupy, slightly sticky moves on us with ‘You Are Not Alone’. It didn’t work for me, personally. What I wanted was, it turns out, a boombastic, romantic, fantastic lover…

Boombastic, by Shaggy (his 2nd of four #1s)

1 week, from 17th – 24th September 1995

And for that we need… Mr Lover-Lover himself. Like his first number one ‘Oh Carolina’, this is rough and ready dancehall, a simple, grinding beat over which Shaggy explains exactly why he is such a superb lover. I have no idea what makes that two-note, clanking metal riff which, alongside a plonking piano, makes the skeleton of this song, but I love it.

Thanks to that riff, this is a fabulously filthy and fun record. You can almost feel the sweat dripping down the walls of whatever basement club it’s being played in. And yet, compared to The Outhere Brothers moronically offensive output, ‘Boombastic’ is all perfectly PG. Some talk of tickling foot-bottoms and sexual physique is as steamy as it gets, while lines like You are the bun and me are the cheese… are actually quite sweet. Meanwhile, for years, I thought Shaggy was being self-deprecating in calling himself ‘semi-fantastic’. Though of course, he’s actually rapping in Jamaican patois: She call me Mr Boombastic, Say me fantastic…

That patois is one of the main attractions here. The way Shaggy rolls every line around in his throat, from gruff growls to choirboy high notes, like a cat toying with its prey, is wonderful. As with ‘Oh Carolina’, there are times when I genuinely have no clue what he’s on about, but it doesn’t matter. The grinding beat means you get the gist.

I’ll show my age and call this Shaggy’s signature song. Of course, he has a much bigger, globe-conquering, hit to come; but ‘Boombastic’ seemed to be everywhere at the time. It managed to appeal to nine-year-old me as well as a much more sophisticated audience, because it’s got just enough of a novelty element to it. Who wouldn’t, at any age, want to call themselves ‘Mr Boombastic’? I had no idea what ‘Boombastic’ meant – I still don’t and, if we’re being honest, does anyone? – but it matters not.

What I didn’t realise was that ‘Boombastic’ was yet another song boosted to #1 by a Levi’s Jeans commercial. I make that five Levi’s-adjacent chart-toppers, off the top of my head, making it a genre in its own right. Also helping was the fact that Shaggy had had a big hit earlier in the year with a cover of Mungo Jerry’s ‘In the Summertime’. It couldn’t be further from the supposedly era-defining Britpop sound, but I am always here for some Shaggy – one of the oddest, and yet fun-est, pop stars of the age.

726. ‘You Are Not Alone’, by Michael Jackson

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And so we arrive at yet another staging-post on the long, but thinly spread, chart-topping career of Michael Jackson. One number one with his brothers, and seven solo, stretched out over two decades. Interestingly, and perhaps aptly, he only ever made #1 in odd numbered years…

You Are Not Alone, by Michael Jackson (his 5th of seven #1s)

2 weeks, from 3rd – 17th September 1995

’77, ’81, ’83, ’87, ’91 and now 1995. And this is just what we’ve been missing on our 1995 bingo card. After all the dance, the Britpop and the power balladry, what we really needed was some slow and syrupy, mid-nineties R&B. This sound was (thankfully) much more prevalent on the Billboard charts, possibly the sound of US pop at the time, and few acts would have had the star power to drag this sludge to the top spot in the UK.

Trust MJ, though. It was the second single from the ‘HIStory’ album, following ‘Scream’, the duet with sister Janet, more famous for its record-breakingly expensive video. And there is a sweet simplicity to this song. The chorus plays almost like a lullaby: You are not alone, I am here with you, Though you’re far away, I am here to stay… Like a lullaby in that it’s pretty, and in that it may send you to sleep.

Jackson puts in a pretty strong vocal performance as well, limiting the ticks and the gulps that have marked most of his music since ‘Bad’ (there’s not a single ‘eeeh hee’ either). He gives the lungs a workout towards the end, post key-change, reminding us that underneath it all he was always a fine singer.

And yet… Watch the video, and it’s easy to become distracted from the actual song. He is now fully white, and very plastic-looking. We’re almost treated to a full-frontal from the King of Pop, as he smooches with then wife Lisa Marie Presley, wrapped only in a towel. It’s all pretty icky. Of course, knowing what we know now means that any Jacko love song comes with its own in-built ick-factor. (‘You Are Not Alone’ was also written by R Kelly, just in case we needed any extra ickiness.)

So, in summary, this is a sweet enough, well-performed ballad, your enjoyment of which depends on how much you can block out thoughts of what we know now, and of a near-naked MJ canoodling with Elvis’s daughter. 1995 will actually turn out to be Jackson’s most successful year, in terms of chart-toppers. He still has a massive Christmas #1 to come, in which he puts his clothes back on and returns to his usual preposterous, overblown nonsense.

725. ‘Country House’, by Blur

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When old fogies stop to reminisce about the 1990s, about the music that soundtracked final few years of the 20th Century, we might think of the Spice Girls, Take That, or Pulp. Maybe even The Prodigy, or The Chemical Brothers. But if you had to bet on it, you’d bet that we think of this one moment: the chart dated 20th-26th August 1995.

Country House, by Blur (their 1st of two #1s)

2 weeks, from 20th August – 3rd September 1995

Oasis Vs Blur. North Vs South. Working-class Mancs vs posh(er) Essex lads. Cliches, cliches, all the way. Legend has it that Liam Gallagher taunted Damon Albarn about Oasis having a number one single, spurring Blur’s management to cheekily change their next release date to clash with Oasis’s ‘Roll With It’, making for great publicity, and the highest sales week for a decade (setting the way for single sales to hit an all-time high in the coming years).

But the story here is the song, primarily, and I should block out all the hype and noise and focus on the tune. As with ‘Some Might Say’, ‘Country House’ may have been Blur’s first #1, but it’s not one of their very best singles. From their earlier hits, ‘Girls & Boys’ is better musically, while ‘Parklife’ has left a much larger cultural legacy. Still, it’s a fun, multi-coloured romp, right from the helter skelter intro through to the brass section in the fade-out. And it tells a story not much heard in chart-topping singles: that of a country squire living a life of rural asceticism. He’s got a fog in chest, So he needs a lot of rest… He doesn’t drink, smoke, laugh, Takes herbal baths… In the country…

There’s a lot going on, musically, and a lot of knowing references to British bands past. Oasis get a lot of stick for being musical magpies, but I hear plenty of Kinks and Small Faces, as well as Madness, and the ghosts of British music hall, here. (Chas & Dave, too, according to Noel Gallagher, but he meant it as an insult…) The video also has Brit-references galore: Page 3 girls, Benny Hill themed hi-jinks, a nod to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, Matt Lucas, Jo Guest and Keith Allen (featuring in his second chart-topping video). And for the ultimate Britpop seal of approval, it was directed by Damien Hirst.

The story, like I said, should be the song. And yet, would ‘Country House’ have made #1 were it not for all the hullaballoo? Maybe, as it was the lead single off a hotly-anticipated new album. But maybe not, as Blur had only three previous Top 10 hits to their name, and just one Top 5. So perhaps we can’t fully separate this song from all the nonsense. What’s certain is that the right song won. ‘Roll With It’ is probably Oasis’s laziest single. I do like it, but you can see why it’s been called ‘Status-Slade’ (though that’s not the insult some might think…) Also, in terms of the ‘Battle of Britpop’, Blur were the originals – their 1992 hit ‘Popscene’ is claimed by many as the very first Britpop single.

In my post on ‘Some Might Say’, I mentioned that my love for Oasis has dimmed over the years. With Blur, the opposite has happened. Nobody I knew at school would have admitted to liking them over Oasis – they were too clever, too arty… Everyone liked ‘Song 2’, but then that’s their dumbest song by far. As a sensible adult, though, I can admit that Blur were the more expansive songwriters. More fun, too – just look at them in the video, pratting about in bubble-baths, then try to imagine Liam doing the same…

Still, this is the first of only two times that we I’ll be writing about Blur (Albarn does also have a Gorillaz #1 to his name). Oasis may have lost this chart battle, but they definitely won the war…

724. ‘Never Forget’, by Take That

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For many, Take That peaked with ‘Back for Good’, their sixth and best-loved number one single. Where to go from there, then? Back to decent-but-unremarkable pop, such as ‘Sure’? Or do they get Jim Steinman, a kids’ choir, and a sample from Verdi’s ‘Requiem’, and throw together an extravagantly OTT remake of a track from their most recent album?

Never Forget, by Take That (their 7th of twelve #1s)

3 weeks, from 30th July – 20th August 1995

I’m sure you already know, but it was the latter. Trumpets of the type usually reserved for announcing royalty herald this next chart-topper. Angelic children’s voices telling us that we’ve come so far, and we’ve reached so high… Depending how you score on the Barlow-tolerance meter, this is either further evidence that Take That were not just another boyband… Or the sound of them, and their songwriter-in-chief, disappearing up their collective arses.

When all the choirs and the Verdi are done, and the song slips into a bog-standard mid-nineties soul-pop beat, it’s a little disappointing. Much of this song’s near seven-minute runtime is fairly mundane, but nobody remembers that. They remember the soaring chorus (that takes well over two minutes to arrive) and the extended fade-out, rather than the dull verses.

It’s now a standard boyband cliché: the song about how fame hasn’t changed them, or how fame isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. This record might be where that trope stems from, as Howard Donald (on rare lead-vocal duty) announces weighty lyrics like We’ve had success, We’ve had good times, But remember this… while a slideshow of pictures from their childhoods plays in the video, interspersed with clips of them winning awards and generally being adored.

Again, if you have a cynical little mind (like I do) you could see this entire project as a massive humblebrag. My mind starts to wondering if Robbie left before or after ‘Never Forget’, as his voice is nowhere to be heard. But then he appears, eventually, to throw some ad-libs around in the long fade-out. Perhaps his diminished role is a clue as to why he did finally quit the band, post-recording but before ‘Never Forget’ was released. He’s had a fairly small role in all but one of their #1s (‘Everything Changes’), with nothing to suggest that he was going to be the huge solo star that he is.

I do like aspects of this single, just in case I’ve sounded too down on it. The sheer scale of it, the Jim Steinman-isation of it. The chorus is one of their very best, too. But by the six minute mark I’ve had my fill, and there’s a false ending that really tests the patience. Still, it was a huge hit – of course it was – and their seventh chart-topper in just two years. Yet it was the beginning of the end. Robbie had left, no further singles were released from the album, and there’s only a fairly limp Bee Gees cover to come before Britain’s biggest boyband are laid to rest. For a bit, anyway.

723. ‘Boom Boom Boom’, by The Outhere Brothers

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In my last post, I asked who were the worse duo: the Outhere Brothers, or Robson & Jerome? Well here they stand, in direct comparison…

Boom Boom Boom, by The Outhere Brothers (their 2nd and final #1)

4 weeks, from 2nd – 30th July 1995

It’s more obnoxious rap-cum-dance from the Outheres, though I have to admit that this is significantly better than ‘Don’t Stop (Wiggle Wiggle)’. It has a less irritating beat, and something resembling a verse-chorus structure. It hangs together like an actual song, rather than a bunch of samples around which filthy lyrics are shouted.

That’s not to say the lyrics aren’t dirty here; they just don’t reach the same levels of obnoxious vulgarity as their earlier #1. There’s an excellent use of the term ‘nani’, (as in put your nani on my tongue…), as well as various mentions of the brothers’ pet obsession: the booty. And I will confess I smiled at the line: Slip my Peter, Into your folder… I’m no prude, and if rudeness can be both silly and inventive, then I’m all for it.

The vast majority of the song though, is a sledgehammer Eurodance beat, and the call-and-response hook of Boom, boom, boom, Now let me hear you say Way-Oh! That’s what I remember from the school playgrounds of the time, and presumably the reason why this was such a hit. There’s nary a millennial alive who can’t complete the second half of the title line, though back in 1995 innocent little me had no idea that there was an explicit original.

Like ‘Don’t Stop’, it looks like ‘Boom Boom Boom’ had a wide variety of mixes and edits: some radio-friendly, some not. I don’t know if these were a factor in making this record a hit, or whether the British public were just mad for the Outhere Brothers in the summer of ’95. It still does feel very incongruous that slap bang in the middle of the year of Britpop, we had a month of this after seven weeks of Robson & Jerome’s golden-oldies.

This, thankfully, is the last we’ll hear from The Outhere Brothers. They would manage a couple of further Top 10 hits, before fading away. I call this the ‘significantly better’ of their two chart-toppers, but that still doesn’t mean it’s particularly good. The Brothers’ charms remain difficult to place. At least they didn’t outstay their welcome – a quick-fire double and now we can forget they ever existed. Unlike the year’s other duo…

722. ‘Unchained Melody’ / ‘White Cliffs of Dover’, by Robson & Jerome

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Serious question: who were the worst musical duo of 1995? In any other year, the moronic Outhere Brothers would have taken the prize hands down. And yet… We also have to reckon with another, potentially even more heinous, pair…

Unchained Melody / White Cliffs of Dover, by Robson & Jerome (their 1st of three #1s)

7 weeks, from 14th May – 2nd July 1995

Robson Green and Jerome Flynn were two actors and television personalities – still are, in fact. They had risen to prominence in the ITV series ‘Soldier Soldier’, in which they played, yes, soldiers. In one episode, they sang an impromptu version of ‘Unchained Melody’ at a wedding, going by the name the Unrighteous Brothers… And the rest was history.

This record suffers from two major problems. First off, it’s terrible. Secondly, the incomparably superior version of ‘Unchained Melody’ that this cover was based on is still fresh in the memory, having topped the charts barely four years ago. Which makes this sound even more like a cheap karaoke cash-in than the tinny backing track and the dodgy vocals might suggest.

And OK, they may have been going for a ‘cheap and cheerful’ feel, as in the TV programme, but that might be giving them a little too much benefit of the doubt. Allegedly the duo had a little ‘assistance’ in the recording studio (to the point where some claim that it’s not really them singing), but I’m not one to cast aspersions. Robson and Jerome seem like decent blokes, not taking themselves too seriously, enjoying an unexpected change in career direction… So on the one hand we shouldn’t get too annoyed by this silly #1. Yet, on the other, there’s the fact that what should have been a fun scene from a TV show was turned into a seven-week chart-topper, and the best-selling single of 1995 – nay, the best-selling single of the entire decade so far! The British public, once again, showing themselves unfit to be trusted within twenty feet of a record shop.

On the flip side of the disc, there’s something slightly more interesting. ‘(There’ll Be Bluebirds Over) The White Cliffs of Dover’ is a song from the Second World War, made famous by the forces’ sweetheart Vera Lynn. It’s interesting, because it may well have been a tie-in for the 50th anniversary of VE Day, and because it’s a clear indication of who this record was aimed at. Grannies across the land kept this on top of the charts, holding off U2 and, in a travesty far worse than Engelbert or ‘Shaddap You Face’, Pulp’s ‘Common People’.

‘Bluebirds’ itself is every bit as rotten as ‘Unchained Melody’, while the production may be even cheaper and nastier, slathered over twee lines about shepherds watching their flocks and little Jimmy sleeping safe in his room (which I’m sure were powerful in 1942 with the Luftwaffe swarming overhead, but which just sound maudlin here). At least, by the end, the pair have been relieved of their singing duties by a much more competent gospel choir.

Apparently both Robson and Jerome had to be persuaded to do any of this, to the point that Green threatened to sue for harassment. Who, pray tell, could be cynical enough to risk a court appearance in the name of unleashing this crap on the nation…? Oh, right, yep. Simon Cowell. The dark overlord of the charts in the 2000s cut his blood-sucking teeth with this, his first number one record. It was produced by two-thirds of SAW (Stock and Aitken), giving this disc yet another stamp of quality…

If only this was a one-off, for both Robson & Jerome, and for Simon Cowell. But, of course, it wasn’t. Much more is to come. Until then, let’s distract ourselves with some chart trivia. This marks the first time that a song has topped the chart in three different versions (the Righteous Brothers, of course, and the Jimmy Young version from way back in 1955). Meanwhile, ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ became the longest-titled #1 single ever – as long as you include the brackets at the start.