I mean ‘new’ in the sense that they had lost Bonehead, their rhythm guitarist, and bassist Paul ‘Guigsy’ McGuigan’, as well as forming their own record label, Big Brother. I don’t mean it in the sense that the Gallaghers had made many huge changes in sound for the year 2000. It’s largely business as usual.
There is a drum loop, but that’s as big a nod to the sounds of the new millennium as we get. The rest is pure Oasis: big, dumb chords; big, dumb lyrics; and some tricks nicked from the Beatles circa 1967. From this album, ‘Standing on the Shoulder of Giants’, onwards, every one of their lead singles will follow the same formula. To be as loud and as instantly recognisable as possible, announcing to everyone within earshot that the boys are back in town.
So ‘Go Let It Out’ is big, and loud, and Liam is on sneery form. It ticks all the boxes, demanding to be belted out by lads in pubs, with lyrics like We’re the builders of our destiny… But it never manages to rise above the faux-psychedelic sludge. There are some nice touches: the squealing guitars and whistle that introduce the final chorus, the wind-up riff in the fade-out, and the bit where Noel announces Feel the bass… (I have a soft spot for bands introducing their instruments and guitar solos). But overall, I’d say that this is my least favourite of Oasis’s eight chart-toppers.
Meanwhile, ‘Standing on the Shoulder of Giants’ is surely everyone’s least favourite Oasis album. (I have defended ‘Be Here Now’ in my earlier Oasis posts, and am prepared to do so again!) It has a couple of good tracks – ‘Gas Panic’ is a paranoid gem, while ‘Fuckin’ in the Bushes’ is perhaps their second best album opener after ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’ – and a pretty decent single in ‘Sunday Morning Call’, which made #4 later in 2000. But it also has ‘Little James’, so…
Probably the most important thing about ‘Go Let It Out’ was it confirmed that the Oasis of 1994-1996, the biggest band in the land, were not coming back. This is the start of Oasis living on past glories. Noel Gallagher has gone on record as regretting how many good songs he used up as B-sides back in the mid-nineties, such as the three on ‘Some Might Say’ which I featured a couple of weeks back. The thing is, though… the B-side to this record, ‘Let’s All Make Believe’, is genuinely one of the best things Oasis ever recorded. Had it featured on ‘Standing…’ it would have been the best track by a mile. Let’s face it, Noel’s just loves being a contrarian.
‘She’s the One’ is not Robbie Williams’ best known number one. Nor does it get the airplay of a ‘Rock DJ’, a ‘Feel’, or an ‘Angels’. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to suggest that it’s one of his very best.
She’s the One / It’s Only Us, by Robbie Williams (his 2nd of seven solo #1s)
1 week, from 14th – 21st November 1999
At least, I always thought so. Until today, when everything I believed was rocked to its core… ‘She’s the One’ is a cover. World Party, a project fronted by former Waterboys member Karl Wallinger, recorded and released the original in 1997, and it was an Ivor Novello-winning, film soundtrack appearing, performed-on-Jools-Holland sort of hit. I’m ashamed of myself for not discovering this much earlier…
Robbie Williams delivers a facsimile of this song – same instrumentation, same harmonies, same vocal range – and delivers it very well. It is a lovely song; a very late-Britpop, arms around your mates in the pub sort of tune. It could easily have been recorded by Oasis, which of course means it has lots of nice Beatlesy touches to it, in the drum-fills and the backing vocals. But I feel slightly cheated now, after all these years of enjoying this so-called Robbie Williams hit.
What the original doesn’t have is a Brit Award winning video set in the world of competitive figure skating, with Robbie playing a has-been skater given one last chance at glory. Plus, it means Barry Davies, the greatest football commentator of my lifetime, can claim a number one single. (My dream aged thirteen, when this song came out, was to be Barry Davies.)
There was some drama, and some fairly ungentlemanly behaviour from Williams, when he started claiming that ‘She’s the One’ was the best song he had ever written. Some of Wallinger’s band played on the cover, unknown to Wallinger himself, and he suffered a brain aneurysm around the time it was hitting #1. Still, he did well off the royalties, and in interviews has claimed that this record saved him from penury. Williams has also, more recently, finally admitted that he didn’t write the song.
What of the double-‘A’ side, ‘It’s Only Us’? The fact I don’t think I’d ever heard this suggests it was more of a jumped-up ‘B’-side than a true double-‘A’. It was written for the soundtrack to FIFA 2000 and, again, it’s very Britpop indebted, this time more Supergrass than Oasis. It rollocks along nicely with lyrics that namecheck Williams’ hometown of Stoke-on-Trent, as well as ‘Rock Me Amadeus’, and with a fun end-of-the-pier organ solo. It’s also one of those songs where Robbie makes a drugs reference – We’re just after cheaper thrills, Since the price went up on pills… – of the sort that always feels a little try-hard for a former boyband member, like a teenager trying to shock his parents. We get it, Robbie. We get it.
It’s worth noting that this was the fourth single from ‘I’ve Been Expecting You’, the album that had given us ‘Millennium’ well over a year earlier. Taking the fourth single from an already huge-selling album to number one requires some serious star power, something that Robbie had in abundance in the late ‘90s. In fact, this moment saw the breakout star from the decade’s biggest boyband knocking his female counterpart, Geri Halliwell, off top-spot. The following year the pair would even date for a couple of months. Geri and Robbie, top of the pops and pretending to be a couple for the tabloids… Pop culture doesn’t get any more turn-of-the-21st-century that that.
I have a recap coming up in a couple of posts, in which I’ll name the best/worst/weirdest/dullest of the most recent number one singles. But if I ever decide to dish out awards for ‘Best Song Title’, then we’ll have an easy all-time winner…
If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next, by Manic Street Preachers (their 1st of two #1s)
1 week, from 30th August – 6th September 1998
I make the nine-word ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’, to be the second longest chart-topping title not to feature brackets (and obviously not counting double-‘A’s). Bonus points for naming the eleven-word winner of that award… Anyway, so far so interesting. But is the song any good…?
Well, the dreamy reverb on the guitars is cool, and the song has a big, beefy wall-of-sound feel to it. It’s confident, and orchestral, and as the lead single from their fifth album it declares the Manics to be perhaps the biggest band in post-Britpop Britain. It’s also fairly mid-tempo, a bit Radio 2, when compared to some of their earlier, spikier hits.
Of course, with a title like that, the lyrics were surely going to be the most interesting aspect of this song. And on one level they don’t let us down. So if I can shoot rabbits, Then I can shoot fascists… is a line unlike most others in the preceding seven hundred and ninety-eight #1s. Inspiration for the song came from a Spanish Civil War-era poster, showing a child killed by Franco’s forces with the title-line printed below. The singer is singing from a modern viewpoint though, and feels gutless when he thinks about the generations before him who fought fascism.
The lyrics are also what leave me a little cold, when faced with writing a post on this record. I’d like to celebrate the Manics making number one – a rock song making number one in the very poppy charts of late ’98 – but they have better songs in their canon. And it’s not that I’m put off by the preachy-ness of it (the hint is in the band’s name, after all), but ‘A Design for Life’ did the socialist-statement-with-strings-and-a-massive-chorus much better than this two years earlier (and only made #2). ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’ is a little too on the nose, a little too much edge without substance. And, removed from the song’s actual lyrics, it can be co-opted by any crackpot conspiracy theorists, as happened in 2009 when the BNP used the song on their website.
I go through phases with the Manics where I listen to them a lot; and then at other times I seem to forget they exist. They always remained somewhat outside the world of Britpop, pre-dating the movement by several years, and by managing hits well into the 2000s, long after most of the other big nineties rock acts had imploded. I do like them, though. And just to prove that I don’t mind political statements in songs, as long as the song itself is strong enough to carry said statement, I will be giving their second number one a glowing write-up.
***I should also mention that I’ve written a post for Kinks Week at Powerpop Blog, which was published earlier today. Please do check it out, along with the rest of Max’s always entertaining and informative posts on music and pop culture!***
So successful was the original ‘Three Lions’, buoyed by England’s near miss at the 1996 European Championships, that the only logical thing for David Baddiel, Frank Skinner and Ian Brodie to do was re-record it for the next big international tournament: the 1998 World Cup.
3 Lions ‘98, by Baddiel, Skinner & the Lightning Seeds (their 2nd and final #1)
3 weeks, from 14th June – 5th July 1998
It starts off very meta, with the Wembley crowd singing the original chorus, and Jonathan Pearce reliving Gareth Southgate’s missed penalty that lost them the ’96 semi-final. After that it’s business as usual, with the sound perhaps a bit beefier than the earlier version. The lyrics are different too, with the first verse focusing on how close England came two years before, and the second focusing on how this will be their year in France.
‘3 Lions’ has been accused, as I mentioned in my first post on the song, of being a bit arrogant by those who don’t want England to do well at international tournaments (i.e. most people who aren’t English). I would argue that the 1998 version is even more over-confident, as thirty years of hurt is now no more years of hurt (okay, thirty-two years of hurt wouldn’t have scanned well, but still….)
This isn’t a football blog, so in short: football didn’t ‘come home’ in 1998, Argentina saw to that by beating England in the round of sixteen. David Beckham, Diego Simeone and all that… In fact, ‘3 Lions ‘98’ was at #1 for longer than England were in the tournament. And football still hasn’t come home in the near thirty years since, though it has come closer recently (too close for comfort for this Scot…) Just last month England lost the Euro 2024 final to Spain.
And as much as I find it annoying as a modern cultural behemoth, I again cannot argue that ‘3 Lions’ isn’t a good song. The daddy of all football pop songs. Plus, the video is good fun, once more featuring Geoff Hurst, and Robbie Williams, a lot of Germans with mullets, and a bit of fun with the fact that Stefan Kuntz had scored Germany’s equaliser two years before.
Away from the football, there’s a serious question to ask here: is this a different song to the original ‘Three Lions’? I’d say it obviously is – different name, different lyrics, different production – and so make it chart-topper #793, and not just a re-entry of chart-topper #740. However, the OCC now combine the versions when the song starts climbing the charts every two years (it will make #1 again in 2018). This is something our blog will have to consider in the 21st century, with several former number ones preparing to re-top the charts. Do they count as separate records – therefore deserving of an entirely new post written about them – or are they the same record returning to the top decades later? ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ has already been back to the summit, but that was twinned with a new song – ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’ – and I treated it as a new number one. Something to consider, then, and I’d welcome the thoughts of any seasoned chart watchers out there.
‘3 Lions’ meanwhile has been re-released several times, and re-recorded several more. There’s a 2010 version with Russel Brand and Robbie Williams (singing this time) which made #21. There’s a 2022 Lionesses’ version, and a Christmas version to tie-in with the winter World Cup in Qatar. Thanks to England’s Euro 2024 run, it returned to #8 just a couple of weeks ago. It’s no exaggeration to state that this song is now up there with ‘Hey Jude’ and the aforementioned ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ as one of the best-known, best-loved, best-remembered chart toppers of all time.
Up next, a quirky little number one. An indie-pop tune about classic Indian movies, by a band who had never previously been higher than #60 in the charts…
Brimful of Asha, by Cornershop (their 1st and only #1)
1 week, from 22nd February – 1st March 1998
‘Brimful of Asha’ had originally been released in 1997, in a more pedestrian, lo-fi version. It’s nice – a different angle on British rock in the late-Britpop years – but it needed a sprinkling of stardust to turn it into a hit. Enter Norman Cook, AKA Fatboy Slim. This is already Cook’s third chart-topping persona, following a spot as a member of the Housemartins in 1986, and with Beats International in 1990.
Compared to some of the other big dance acts of the time – think Prodigy or the Chemical Brothers – Cook’s work as Fatboy Slim has a much poppier, more accessible style. The production on this record – the chunky drum fills, the loops – is very late nineties. But it probably sounds ‘very late nineties’ because Fatboy Slim was one of the defining sounds of that era. ‘Brimful of Asha’ was the launchpad for him to enjoy several years of hits.
And while it does sound rooted in the late-90s, ‘Brimful of Asha’ also has nods back to the sixties in the guitar line, and the fact that Cook added a sample from ‘Mary, Mary’, by the Monkees. The ‘Asha’ in the title refers to Asha Bosle, a famous soundtrack singer and one of the most influential names in Bollywood. And of course there’s the famous hook: Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow, Everybody needs a bosom… It all comes together to create an intoxicatingly catchy song.
Cornershop were from Wolverhampton, and had been ploughing an alt-indie furrow since 1991. Their references to Indian cinema came from founders and brothers Tjinder and Avtar Singh (though Avtar had left in 1995), and the band’s name is a tongue-in-cheek reference to the stereotypical line of work that Indian immigrants tended to take up in the UK. It’s actually quite a big cultural moment, this: British Indians topping the charts with a song celebrating their ancestral country. It’s also a surprisingly early nostalgic tribute to vinyl records (Brimful of Asha on the ’45…) just after the format had been largely killed off, and before hipsters rediscovered it.
Sadly, Cornershop would struggle for hits when Norman Cook wasn’t involved. The follow-up, ‘Sleep on the Left Side’, made #23, and their last Top 100 appearance came in 2004. They remain active, though, both recording and touring. Norman Cook, meanwhile, went from strength to strength after this. In the months following ‘Brimful of Asha’s success, he had his first hit as Fatboy Slim with ‘The Rockafeller Skank’, setting him up for several years of solo success. I have a feeling that his poppy, Big Beat style might have been looked down upon in more fashionable dance circles, but he was always undeniably catchy. And he’ll be back along with his own solo #1 very soon!
A few months after the highest-selling number one single of all time, a slightly different chart record falls. Oasis were planning to release the penultimate track from ‘Be Here Now’ as that album’s final single, a track that ran to well over nine minutes (long even by that bloated album’s standards). Surely, people assumed, there would be a single edit? But of course not. For this was Oasis, the biggest, boldest band in the land, and nobody could tell them what to do.
All Around the World, by Oasis (their 4th of eight #1s)
1 week, from 18th – 25th January 1998
In fact, the single version of ‘All Around the World’ drags things out even further than the album version, meaning that it runs to a staggering nine minutes thirty-eight seconds. You wonder why they didn’t just keep it going to the ten-minute mark… Still, it stands as the longest number one single ever, almost two minutes ahead of Meat Loaf in second place. But what gets overlooked in all the chat about how long it is, and how OTT ‘Be Here Now’ is, is the fact that this is a pretty good song.
It’s one of the album’s clearer, more instant moments. It’s a simple enough concept, with slightly jazzy, slightly Beatlesy (duh!) chord progressions. The simple concept is built upon, with layers of overdub and na-na-na-ing, until it grows into a thumping gospel track, with Liam chanting his mantra: I know what I know, It’s gonna be okay… We all know now that by 1998 Oasis were a coked-up mess; but this is Oasis at their coked-up best. I’ve always thought it very underrated.
Perhaps ‘All Around the World’ stands out as different to the rest of ‘Be Here Now’ because it was actually one of Noel’s earliest song writing efforts, with live performances dating back to 1992. I don’t imagine those early versions of the song sounded as gigantic as this, but it does have that early-Oasis theme of everyone getting along, making better days. Plus it has Liam chewing the life out of the word sheeeiiiiinnnneeee, which is a real Oasis 101.
Added to this early-nineties seed of a song were seven whole minutes of coda. Lots of key changes, lots of subtle rearranging of the na-na-nas. I particularly like the seismic shift around 5:30, before Liam comes back bellowing through a loudspeaker. Of course it’s too long – it’s a preposterous length for a pop song – and of course it’s self-indulgent. Plus, of course the Beatles’ references are way too obvious (‘Hey Jude’, for one, and ‘Yellow Submarine’ in the mesmerising animated video).
But as with ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’, and as with ‘Be Here Now’ on the whole, you do just have to sit back and admire the sheer bravado of releasing this beautiful, overblown nonsense, and then lament the passing of rock music that is this big. It’s a shame that a track of ‘All Around the World’s size is relatively forgotten among the Oasis back-catalogue, and that it sneaked a January number one when competition was scarce. By now, a backlash had begun against Oasis, as always happens when acts become that popular. It will be over two years before their next chart hit, as the band take a much needed breather after the wild ride of the Britpop years.
Oi Oi! Here’s a Best Of for Britpop’s cheekiest chappies. And it’s got nothing to do with your Vorsprung durch Technik, y’know… For I haven’t chosen ‘Parklife’ as one of them. Nor have I chosen either of Blur’s #1s – ‘Country House’ and ‘Beetlebum’. What I have done is pick my favourite non-chart topping single (no album tracks allowed) from each of their nine studio albums, plus a couple of standalone singles for good measure. Off we swagger, then…
‘She’s So High’ – from Leisure
Blur’s first album stands out as something of an oddity. Apart from it clearly being Damon Albarn on lead vocals, they don’t sound like the Britpop icons that they would go on to become. ‘She’s So High’ was their first ever release, making #48 in October 1990. It’s very much a shoegaze single, lulling you in with its pounding drone and stoned vocals. It was twinned with ‘I Know’ as a double-‘A’, which is a more uptempo number with a funky Madchester beat. Both songs are a neat time capsule of what indie music sounded like at the dawn of the ’90s, long before anyone had heard of ‘Brit Pop’.
‘Popscene’ – non-album single
I’m cheating a bit here, as ‘Popscene’ wasn’t on any album, but it seems too important to miss off this list. It feels like the sound of Blur coming into their own, the Blur that would go on to become one of the decade’s biggest bands, and is a song that they were proud of and excited to release. When it stalled at #32, in 1992, they were disappointed, and blamed grunge for not allowing upbeat rock music to flourish. Which was sour grapes, even if they did have a point. However, ‘Popscene’ is now regarded as one of, if not the, first real Britpop single. One that would influence a whole genre with its mix of punk and glam, its energy and its snotty Britishness, even if its legacy isn’t reflected in its chart position.
‘Sunday Sunday’ – from Modern Life Is Rubbish
‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’ kicked off the Britpop phase of Blur’s career, and the album’s third single set the template for the sort of perky, Kinks-y hits that they would churn out by the dozen between 1993 and 1996. Many would say they surpassed it a year later on ‘Parklife’, but this song is saved by not having been bludgeoned into our skulls for the past three decades. Plus ‘Parklife’ also doesn’t have ‘Sunday Sunday’s frantic middle-eight, that sounds like a malfunctioning arcade game, or the big brass band that sees us home. The lyrics are no ‘Autumn Almanac’, but there’s charm here in its depiction of a lazy Sunday: He sings the Songs of Praise every week but always falls asleep… The three singles from the album all made the Top 30, and though a good case could be made for ‘For Tomorrow’, I think ‘Sunday Sunday’ best encapsulates Blur on the verge of becoming massive.
‘Girls & Boys’ – from Parklife
And massive they became, thanks to ‘Parklife’, and its lead single ‘Girls & Boys’. Sometimes Britpop gets written off as a regressive movement, a fin de siecle piss-up for the lads and ladettes. But that was just one half of it (the Oasis half). The other half was Brett Anderson’s floppy fringe and amyl nitrate innuendo, Jarvis Cocker’s knowing looks and camp asides. And of course Blur, singing about Girls who want boys, Who like boys to be girls, Who do boys like they’re girls, Who do girls like they’re boys… All over a squelching electro-disco beat, and a brilliantly cheap looking green-screened video. Yes, it’s a satire about 18-30s holidays, and could be viewed in a sneering ‘look at those plebs’ sort of way. But I don’t think you need to overthink brilliant pop like this.
All the singles from ‘Parklife’ could have been chosen, as all have a claim to being among Blur’s best. From the soaring lounge-pop of ‘To the End’, the ubiquity of the title-track, to the bittersweet ‘End of a Century’. But I’ll go with the lead-single, which made #5 in the spring of 1994, and really kicked Britpop into gear.
‘The Universal’ – from The Great Escape
‘The Great Escape’ gave Blur their first number one single, which also brought with it all the hullaballoo of the ‘Battle of Britpop’. But it was the album’s second single, a #5 hit in November 1995, which is the real highlight. It’s a sweeping ballad, more strings than guitars, about a future where technology has taken over. The looming end of the twentieth century was a theme that cropped up throughout Blur’s Britpop phase, never more so than in ‘The Universal’: No-one here is alone, Satellites in every home… Eerily prescient, perhaps, as we look back from our social media age. The video is similarly creepy, a tribute to a ‘A Clockwork Orange’, with Blur all in white, playing to a bar full of uninterested, and increasingly chaotic, yuppies. Can we also take a moment to appreciate Damon Albarn, already the ’90s best-looking frontman, in mascara… (Fun fact: former Tottenham forward and BBC pundit Garth Crooks bought one of the all-seeing golf balls from the video at a charity auction in 1999).
‘Song 2’ – from Blur
I’m going for the second single from their fifth album, as the lead single made #1 and I’ve already covered it. And while I do like ‘Beetlebum’, I probably would have chosen ‘Song 2’ because, well, it bloody rocks. It’s also perfectly named, as not only was it the second single, it is also exactly two minutes long, made #2 in the charts, and it is the second track on the album (the song’s title is a placeholder that they never bothered to change). Things had been going sour for Blur following ‘The Great Escape’, and it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that they helped kill off Britpop with the follow-up. Gone are the larking cheeky-chappies; it is much darker, grittier, electronic in places, and grungier… Speaking of which, since their ill-fated tour of the States in 1992, Blur had spoken out against grunge, and American rock, and some say that ‘Song 2’ was intended as a piss-take of the genre. They apparently had no idea that their label would want the song on the album, let alone want it released as a single. And of course, when it did come it out it became their best-known song in the US. Funny that… Going by Damon’s outburst when they played Coachella earlier this year, he still has some unresolved anger towards Americans…
(Also, an honorable mention to this album’s fourth single, ‘M.O.R.’, which also rocks.)
‘Coffee & TV’ – from 13
Second single from the album, again. ’13’ was even more experimental than ‘Blur’, coming out in 1999 with Britpop going through its death-spasms. The lead-single was the near eight-minute long ‘Tender’, which is a good song – a swampy, gospel oddity – stretched way too thin. It was famously (and rightfully) held off number one by ‘…Baby One More Time’. The follow-up was ‘Coffee & TV’, written and sung by Graham Coxon about his struggles with alcohol. It contains, for my money, one of the greatest opening lines of all time: Do you feel like a chain store, Practically floored… Plus there’s also the award winning video featuring Milky, the animated milk carton.
‘Out of Time’ – from Think Tank
In the four years between ’13’ and ‘Think Tank’, Graham Coxon had left the band and Damon Albarn had released a well-aclaimed and succesful album with Gorillaz. For their seventh album, the remaining three members decamped to Morrocco. ‘Out of Time’, the album’s lead single and Blur’s most recent Top 10 hit, features an orchestra from Marrakesh, who provide the eerie, ethereal sounds that swirl around this gorgeous song. It also features perhaps Albarn’s best vocal performance, so soothing and clear that it works as a form of ASMR. Following this album, and the subsequent tour, Blur disbanded for the better part of a decade. (A shout out too for ‘Think Tank’s second single, the completely different ‘Crazy Beat’, a sort of ‘Song 2’ on steroids.)
‘Under the Westway’ – non-album single
Since we had ‘Popscene’, we can have this one too. An out-of-the-blue release in 2012, of a song written by Albarn and Coxon for a charity performance. Perhaps Blur’s most melancholy ballad, written about a man sitting under the A40 flyover in West London. Think a 21st century ‘Waterloo Sunset’, but far less hopeful. And yet it’s beautiful, ending on a thumping piano note reminiscent of ‘A Day in the Life’. It is the band’s most recent Top 40 hit to date.
‘Ong Ong’ – from The Magic Whip
Blur reformed in the early 2010s, and went out on tour. A new album was not on the cards, however, until a festival they were supposed to be playing in Japan was cancelled, leaving the band in Hong Kong with time to spare. They booked a small studio in Kowloon, and bashed what would go on to become ‘The Magic Whip’ out in five days. ‘Ong Ong’ has a joyful bounciness to it that harks back to the goofiness of ‘Sunday Sunday’ and ‘Parklife’, but also has a middle-aged melancholy buried within. Plus I have somewhat personal reasons for choosing it, as it’s a cute tribute to my home of twelve years, a land of black kites and wishing trees (as well as tarmac that melts on hot, sunny days like today…)
‘St. Charles Square’ – from The Ballad of Darren
I have to admit to not being that enthused by Blur’s most recent album, last year’s ‘The Ballad of Darren’. The standout track by far was the second single, the grungey, crunchy ‘St Charles Square’. It’s a ghost story – theres something down here and it’s living under the floorboards – but they are the ghosts of Britpop past. Apparently ‘Tesco Disco’was a real unlicensed club, next to a Tesco in Notting Hill. Which is brilliant.
I hope you enjoyed this frolic through the best British band of the ’90s… (please do disagree with that statement in the comments below!) Up next we return to regular programming, starting out on 1998!
A slight change in direction then, after Will Smith’s intergalactic, family friendly, summer blockbusting number one…
The Drugs Don’t Work, by The Verve (their 1st and only #1)
1 week, from 7th – 14th September 1997
This is surely one of the saddest chart-toppers in history. Not many hits have made the toppermost of the poppermost with lines such as: Like a cat in a bag, Waiting to drown… This time I’m comin’ down…
I suppose we have to class this as Britpop; but it also feels bigger, more timeless than that. And if it is Britpop (bearing in mind that the Verve formed as a shoegaze band, way back in 1990) then it is another song marking the comedown, more ‘Beetlebum’ than ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’ It’s interesting, actually, that the closing years of the decade will see (slightly) more rock chart-toppers than 1995-6, the peak years of Britpop.
As with Blur’s second #1, this one’s about drugs, and the bands’ struggles with them. I mean, it’s right there in the title. But added to that is the perhaps apocryphal story that it’s about watching a close family member die of cancer. The drugs don’t work, They just make you worse, But I know I’ll see your face again… Richard Ashcroft has never confirmed this, but has mentioned in interviews that this is now the song’s widely-accepted meaning. And he seems genuinely moved by this, the fact that he’s written a song that accompanies people through some of their darkest moments.
Despite all this, and despite me just calling it “one of the saddest chart-toppers in history”, it’s not a miserable song. The reverb, and the strings, give it a light quality, and I love the bluesy rasp to Ashcroft’s voice. The highlight is the middle-eight, the gorgeously soaring Cause baby oooh, If heaven calls… ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’ was the second release from their widely acclaimed ‘Urban Hymns’ album, and the strings in particular tie it back to the previous single, ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’. That record is probably the Verve’s best remembered – especially as it was their only hit in the US – but it’s not a song I’ve ever loved. For me, this record, their sole number one, is their towering achievement.
So, I wouldn’t like to overly suggest that the success of ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’, which had made #2 a couple of months earlier, was the reason for this making #1. This record deserves better than ‘shadow #1’ status. Perhaps more of a factor in this being such a big hit is the fact that it was released the day after the death of Princess Diana. Lots of sources have retrospectively claimed that her death, and the public’s need for something both maudlin and uplifting, meant it went straight to number one. Maybe that’s true, but again I’d give a song of this quality a bit more benefit of the doubt. ‘Urban Hymns’ went on to become one of the decade’s biggest albums, but its success caused the band to fracture. Ashcroft embarked on a successful solo career, and the next Verve album didn’t appear until 2008.
Anyway, if the public were desperate to mark Diana’s death by purchasing a CD single, they didn’t have to wait long for an even more appropriate song to come along…
Was this the most anticipated song of the nineties? The decade’s ultimate band, whose previous album had become one of the biggest in history, releasing the lead single from their third LP. In this moment, Oasis were everything, and everywhere.
D’You Know What I Mean?, by Oasis (their 3rd of eight #1s)
1 week, from 13th – 20th July 1997
‘Definitely Maybe’ had the attitude, and the riffs, while ‘What’s the Story’ had the globe-straddling ambition, and huge pop choruses. ‘Be Here Now’ would have to go some to be even bigger than its predecessors… And ‘go some’ it did. Starting with the seven-minute lead…
Seven and a half minutes, in fact, that are completely overblown and ridiculous, and somehow still pretty boring. On the album version, clocking in at almost eight minutes, the scene is set with a full minute of helicopters, feedback, bleeping and blooping, before the song even starts. The first chorus doesn’t arrive until the two and a half minute mark. The final minute or so is more feedback, and psychedelic loops for good measure. Most of the verses are slow and plodding, with so many different tracks welded together that listening to it, especially on headphones, can be a trippy experience. There’s a decent song in there, somewhere, buried under a landslide of sound.
The best thing about ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’ is the lyrics, Oasis at their most Oasis-y. In fact it might as well be the Liam manifesto, with pearls like: Comin’ in a mess, Goin’ out in style, I ain’t good-looking but I’m someone’s child… and I met my maker, Made him cry… Is this his best vocal performance on an Oasis #1? Perhaps. And of course there are two Beatles references (The fool on the hill and I feel fine…) so blatant that Noel was clearly playing to the gallery.
It didn’t really matter what it sounded like, this was always going to go to number one, and the fact that it is so overblown and so far up its own arse makes for an interesting chart-topping record. (Though despite it selling almost 400,000 copies in its first week, Puff Daddy returned to the top a week later.) ‘Be Here Now’ was equally always going to be the year’s biggest album; but after early adulation, the critical response to it quickly soured. It is, how to say… a bit much. Obnoxious, overlong, overproduced, over-the-top. The problem was that Oasis were too big to edit, and they were taking far too much cocaine. Even the title of this record, ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’ sounds like a conversation with a drugged-up bore.
That’s not to say I don’t like ‘Be Here Now’ – it’s got some great tunes buried within it, and gets too much stick from people who probably haven’t listened to it in twenty-five years. And actually, so what if it’s a bloated whale-corpse of a record, made by a band who had spent two years gorging on champagne and coke…? That’s rock ‘n’ roll, baby. Perhaps one of the genre’s last great excesses, just two years out from the horrors of a new millennium. Which of the 21st century’s big rock bands would even attempt something so hideously gargantuan? Coldplay? Snow Patrol? Imagine Dragons…?
In my post on ‘Beetlebum’, I pinpointed that record as the start of the Britpop comedown. Blur had taken themselves off to bed as shivering, sweating wrecks. But ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’ is the sound of Oasis keeping the party going, for better or worse, even though the morning sun is creeping through the cracks in the blinds, as the song drones on and on, and on.
It became the second-longest #1 single ever, ahead of ‘Hey Jude’ but thirty seconds behind Meat Loaf’s ‘I Would Do Anything for Love’. Never ones to be denied, Oasis’s third single from ‘Be Here Now’ will be so long that it will make ‘D’You Know What I Mean?’ seem short and sweet by comparison. And that one will be making number one soon enough.
On the one hand, there’s nothing very quirky about Britain’s second biggest band scoring their second chart-topper, with the lead single from their highly anticipated fifth album. And yet… ‘Beetlebum’ isn’t Blur at their most accessible – a fuzzy, droning number about taking heroin. It would actually make a good pub quiz question: name Blur’s two UK number ones. Everyone remembers ‘Country House’ because of the hoo-haa around the Battle of Britpop. But I doubt many casual fans would name this one over ‘Parklife’, or ‘Song 2’.
At the time, ‘Beetlebum’ was seen as a disappointment by some, and it’s hard to imagine this now, as it effectively signalled the start of Blur MK II, the Blur we’ve known for the past two decades. But until now, most of their singles had been laddish and upbeat, delivered with a knowing wink. ‘Beetlebum’ is a much rawer beast, perhaps the first song to mark the comedown from Britpop’s highs.
Damon Albarn was at first reluctant to admit what the song was about, but lines like And when she lets me slip away… Nothing is wrong, I just slip away and I am gone… Plus a whole minute of He’s on, He’s on, He’s on it… give the game away pretty quickly. The song neither glamourises, nor demonises the drug; more gives the feel of what it is like to be under its influence. ‘Sleepy, and sexy’, according to Albarn.
I remember reading a line – though I don’t remember where – describing ‘Beetlebum’ as ‘bum Beatles’. Which is harsh, even if the comparisons to White Album/Abbey Road-era Beatles are obvious, especially in the chorus harmonies. Perhaps because of the Beatles’ influence, Noel Gallagher went on record naming this as the one Blur song he wishes he had written.
And I think nowadays, now that people have got over the disappointment of it not being ‘Girls and Boys Part II’, we can agree that ‘Beetlebum’ is a great song, and if you listen carefully you can hear that it’s as full of hooks as any of their other hits, culminating in one of the creepiest endings to a #1 single – a full minute’s worth of that droning riff, weird noises, effects and alarms, ending with one final click. It’s definitely worthy of being Blur’s ‘other’ chart-topper. Plus, I’ve always had a more personal soft spot for the record, as it was my 11th birthday number one.
They have no further chart-toppers to come, sadly. Follow-up ‘Song 2’, their biggest hit outside the UK, stalled somewhat appropriately at number two, and the lead single from their next album, ‘Tender’, will famously be held off the top by Britney Spears. Damon will be back, though, as the mastermind behind Gorillaz. Two #1s for the best Britpop band (something I’ve just decided this very second, but it feels right) is pretty paltry, so I’ll do a Blur ‘Best of the Rest’ sometime soon.
The UK Number Ones Blog 