Britpop

758. ‘Beetlebum’, by Blur

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Continuing with our run of quirky number ones…

Beetlebum, by Blur (their 2nd and final #1)

1 week, from 26th January – 2nd February 1997

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.

740. ‘Three Lions’, by Baddiel & Skinner & The Lightning Seeds

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Oh Lord, here we go. I steel myself, as I always do when a song concerning the England Football Team comes along…

Three Lions, by Baddiel & Skinner & The Lightning Seeds (their 1st of two #1s)

1 week, from 26th May – 2nd June 1996/ 1 week, from 30th June – 7th July 1996 (2 weeks total)

The thing is, I do like ‘Three Lions’. It’s a Britpop classic (you could argue that it’s the Britpop classic, alongside ‘Common People’ and ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’, given how ubiquitous it remains, almost thirty years on…) and it’s given The Lightning Seeds – a brilliant pop act – a moment or two on top of the singles charts.

There’s also a lot I really bloody hate about this song; but for a moment let’s focus on the positives. Football aside, ‘Three Lions’ is a very British pop song, in the tradition of The Kinks and Blur, in that it is part music hall, part pub singalong, and yet part quite sophisticated rock music. Separated from the crowd noises and the snatches of commentary, the chords and the pianos are quite melancholy, almost baroque.

The lyrics are also very particularly British. Few nations would start a song that should ostensibly be about sporting glory, with a verse about how England’s gonna throw it away, Gonna blow it away… We don’t like to revel in success. If anything, we much prefer to wallow in disappointment. (And England are actually quite good at football! Wait till you hear about Scotland…)

‘Three Lions’ was recorded ahead of Euro ’96, the first big tournament to be held in the UK – the land that invented association football – since the 1966 World Cup. Hence the It’s coming home… refrain. David Baddiel and Frank Skinner are comedians, and were hosts of the popular ‘Fantasy Football League’ TV show, who teamed up with Ian Broudie of the Lightning Seeds. He had been asked by the FA to write the official England team song, but had declined the offer of the players singing on the song. Broudie wanted it to be different to its predecessors – ‘Back Home’, ‘World in Motion’ etc. – and be written from the fans’ point of view. The title, meanwhile, refers to the three lions on the England team’s crest.

All three men take turns on lead vocals: Brodie is clearly a good singer, Skinner acquits himself well, Baddiel…. Well, let’s just say he gives it a good go. Listening to the song now, it sounds a lot more lightweight, a lot simpler than I remember. Maybe I’m just used to hearing it bellowed out by tens of thousands rather than by three fairly reedy voices. And it contains one of pop music’s great mondegreens. Hands up who thinks the words are jewels remain still gleaming? When they are of course Jules Rimet still gleaming, a reference to the original World Cup trophy that England lifted in 1966, and which Brazil got to keep following their 1970 triumph.

So what is it that I hate about this song? Well, I hate what it’s become. I hate that it still gets bellowed out by England fans, usually drunk, often belligerent, sometimes with a flare stuck up their arse. ‘Oh but it’s a joke, it’s self-deprecating…’ some will argue. No, when it’s sung about a tournament not hosted by England (i.e. every major tournament since 1996) it sounds obnoxiously entitled, as if the trophy is coming home, pre-destined, to England. Except it never does. 1966 remains England’s only triumph. The thirty years of hurt in the lyrics now stand at fifty-eight, and long may that number continue to grow.

Luka Modric mentioned the song’s arrogance as a motivating factor for Croatia in their 2018 World Cup semi-final win over England. So maybe it’s time to retire the song as the moron’s anthem of choice, for England’s own good if anything, and return the song to beloved Britpop classic status. Deliciously, back in 1996, German fans started singing ‘Three Lions’ following their semi-final win over England. If only they had a word for taking pleasure in another’s misfortune…

This is already a very long post, and I know that most of my readers don’t give a hoot about football, or soccer, but I should mention the nice touches in the video. Baddiel and Skinner recreate famous moments from English football – when Lineker scored, that tackle by Moore – on a muddy playing field with the ’96 squad. (It’s definitely Steve Stone’s finest achievement in an England shirt.) And then Geoff Hurst – hattrick hero of ’66 – turns up at the pub, but they don’t realise.

One last thing before we finish: we need to give a shout out to the Lightning Seeds. ‘Three Lions’, in all its versions, is by far their biggest hit, but they were mainstays of the ‘90s and the sort of act who can put together a brilliant Greatest Hits. My personal favourites are ‘Lucky You’ and ‘Sugar Coated Iceberg’, and I’d check them out if you aren’t familiar.

736. ‘Firestarter’, by The Prodigy

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Right in the middle of the Britpop years, we finally get a proper punk number one!

Firestarter, by The Prodigy (their 1st of two #1s)

3 weeks, from 24th March – 14th April 1996

Obviously ‘Firestarter’ is not musically ‘punk’ – more techno-metal – but everything else is pretty on point. The aggression, the repetitive, nuclear siren riff, the nastiness of the lyrics: I’m the bitch you hated, Filth infatuated, Yeah…

Within the song’s opening ten seconds, it is already one of the grittiest sounding number one singles we’ve heard. Everything about it seems designed to put you on edge, to make your hairs stand on end – the harsh drums and bass, the abrasive riff, the metal on metal grinding rhythm. It’s not often a song this raw, this unapologetically hardcore, crosses over into huge mainstream success.

I was ten when this came out, but I remember it feeling and sounding dangerous. I’m the Firestarter, Twisted Firestarter… I’m pretty sure it made the evening news, amid fears around the arson-promoting lyrics and Keith Flint’s performance in the video, in which he flings himself about an abandoned tunnel, covered in piercings, with his memorable reverse-Mohican hairdo. Watching it now, it’s amazing to think that many stations refused to play it before the watershed – there’s no violence, no swearing, nothing sexual; just Flint’s unhinged performance. But, to be fair, it is terrifying, especially when he pauses to stare, dead-eyed into the camera (and perhaps quite poignant, now, knowing that he had his demons).

The Prodigy were already a hugely successful dance act, and had been scoring Top 10 hits since the early nineties. So the lead single from their third album was bound to be big. But ‘Firestarter’ was almost a reinvention – a heavier, rockier sound, presumably brought about by the fact that guitars were ‘in’ in 1996. Which brings us back to the troubles we’ve had in defining ‘Britpop’ recently: Prodigy weren’t Britpop – they were a dance act that pre-dated the genre – but it’s hard to argue ‘Firestarter’ and the subsequent ‘The Fat of the Land’ album weren’t huge Britpop moments.

We do have to acknowledge that much of this song is a patchwork of samples: from the Breeders, and a Chicago house group called ‘Ten City’. Even the ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’ refrain is from Art of Noise. But if ever there were an argument against sampling being lazy, it is in a banger like this, the fact that the band heard something in those three wildly disparate songs and creating something fearlessly new.

And yet, I will say that, as great and thrilling as ‘Firestarter’ is, it’s neither The Prodigy’s best single, nor their most controversial. Their best will also make #1 before the end of 1996, while their most controversial was the 3rd release from ‘The Fat of the Land’, the ever-charming ‘Smack My Bitch Up’.

734. ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’, by Oasis

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‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ isn’t Oasis’s best song (that is a question for a different post, but it would probably be something from their debut album). ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ is, though, probably the ultimate Oasis song. Oasis at their Oasisest.

Don’t Look Back in Anger, by Oasis (their 2nd of eight #1s)

1 week, from 24th February – 3rd March 1996

They set out their stall in the opening seconds, with the piano line from ‘Imagine’ which, according to Noel, was a deliberate middle finger to those who claimed Oasis were musical copycats. It hooks you in, declaring that the next five minutes are going to be epic. In fact, every part of this song, from that intro onwards, is a hook.

You can be the type of person who jots down every little chord, lyric or guitar lick that Oasis nicked – and I am that person sometimes – or you can be someone who admires the way they managed to distil British rock history into an elite-level run of singles (and two excellent albums), who admits that when they were good, they were very good. The drum-fill before the final, soaring chorus here is, no hyperbole, one of pop music’s great moments.

‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ also features some of Noel’s more coherent lyrics. My personal favourite is the Please don’t put your life in the hands, Of a rock n roll band, Who’ll throw it all away… with the squealing guitars in between. A lot of the lines are still nonsense, but they work somehow. I assume it’s about a break-up, given all the stuff about walking on by, and not looking back. Or maybe it’s a mantra for living positively, not lingering on mistakes. Don’t go thinking that ‘Sally’ is anyone important, though. ‘It’s just a word that fit, y’know,’ says Noel. ‘Might as well throw a girl’s name in there.’

A song written and led by Noel has to beg the question: what of Liam? Well, despite having nothing to do, he spends the video mooching around the garden of a stately home in his shades, and still manages to be the star of the show. He is apparently responsible for the song’s most famous line: So Sally can wait… having misheard what Noel was really singing while writing it.

Despite what I wrote earlier, I’m going to briefly be the guy that points out the bits that Oasis nicked. I just now noticed that while everyone was distracted by the ‘Imagine’ piano in the intro, the floaty guitar in the outro is a rip-off of ‘Octopus’s Garden’. Is that common knowledge, or have I just unearthed another, previously undiscovered fossil?

‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ was the 4th single from an album that had already sold in the multi-millions, and so the fact that it made number one is testament to how truly massive Oasis were in 1996. Over the past twenty-eight (!!!) years, it has gone from a pop song to almost a hymn, or an alternate national anthem. In the wake of the Manchester Arena bombing in 2017, gathering crowds spontaneously began singing it, giving the lyrics an even more resonant feel.

Meanwhile, it has also been voted the 4th Most Popular #1 Single ever, the 2nd greatest Britpop song (after ‘Common People’), and the Greatest Song of the 1990s. (And, most importantly, the 2nd Best Song to Sing Along to While Drunk – controversially robbed of top spot in that poll by Aerosmith’s God-awful ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’.) It is also by far the best of Oasis’s eight number ones… and I hope that’s not too much of a spoiler for what’s to come!

Should Have Been a #1…? ‘Common People’, by Pulp

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Often when I’ve done a ‘Should Have Been a #1…’ post, it’s because the song featured was particularly unlucky when being deprived of top spot. ‘God Save the Queen’ may have been the victim of a political manoeuvre, ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ the victim of the festive holidays, and ‘Groove Is in the Heart’ runner up in the closest sales race ever…

But ‘Common People’ was beaten fair and square, by the more popular, better-selling record: Robson & Jerome’s double-‘A’ of ‘Unchained Melody’ and ‘White Cliffs of Dover’. Still, I do think that this was the biggest chart travesty ever… A travesty of public taste. But this post isn’t just a lamentation on Pulp’s poor fortune; it’s a tribute to all the Britpop records that never made number one. (Robson & Jerome did the double a few months later, also keeping Oasis’s ‘Wonderwall’ in second place behind their cover of ‘I Believe’.)

If our journey through 1995 has taught us anything, it’s that Britpop was badly served at the top of the singles chart. Few big musical movements are less well-represented at the top – maybe punk, and heavy metal. Oasis and Blur have had a #1 each, and they’ll have more going forward. In the weeks and months to come we’ll meet the Prodigy, the Verve, and the Manic Street Preachers (none of whom can truly be defined as ‘Britpop’) as well as a remixed Cornershop, and a dubious one from the Lightning Seeds. Maybe that’s the problem: what was Britpop? Blur were around way before the term was coined. Pulp had been going since the early eighties. Maybe true ‘Britpop’ is literally just Oasis…

Anyway, Pulp may precede and post-date Britpop, but ‘Common People’ is the ultimate Britpop anthem. It’s confident, cocky, clever, and very British. It condenses centuries of class history into four minutes, plus you can dance to it. It bestrides British pop culture to this day, cropping up most recently in a funny reference in ‘Saltburn’. It came from the ‘Different Class’ album – by my money the best Britpop LP – which also featured another #2: ‘Sorted for E’s & Whizz’ / ‘Mis-Shapes’… (kept off top by Simply Red).

‘Sorted…’ had some rock ‘n’ roll controversy about it, getting the Daily Mirror’s knickers in a twist about its ‘pro-drugs message’. (Even the most perfunctory listen to the song reveals a distinctly non-positive drugs message…) ‘Mis-Shapes’ meanwhile is an outsiders anthem – You could end up with a smack in the mouth, Just for standing out, now, really… – the antithesis to some of the more laddish elements of Britpop.

Away from Pulp, the second biggest Britpop #2 (from a band that didn’t otherwise make #1) is the evergreen, ever-perky ‘Alright’, by Supergrass – kept off top by the dreaded Outhere Brothers. An ode to being young – the band were still teenagers when it was recorded – it’s impossible not to feel cheered when you hear it, with lyrics like: We wake up, We go out, Smoke a fag, Put it out, See our friends, See the sights, Feel alright… (I’m a big Supergrass fan, and can confirm that ‘Alright’, as fun as it is, isn’t even close to being their best song. Do a deep dive!) They made #2 again in 1997, with the thumping ‘Richard III’.

Another close call came in January 1996, when the Bluetones took the jangly, Stone Roses leaning ‘Slight Return’ to #2. And the oft-maligned Kula Shaker were the other Britpop runners-up, their lightly psychedelic rockers ending up in 2nd place twice: ‘Hey Dude’, and a cover of sixties classic ‘Hush’.

And I’ll end with the band many claim kicked off the entire Britpop genre: Suede. They never managed even a #2; but here’s their biggest hit, from their biggest album – 1996’s #3 smash ‘Trash’.

‘Trash’ is another song – like ‘Alright’ and ‘Common People’ – that celebrates people’s weirdness, their exuberance, their individuality. Britpop, for all it’s Blur Vs Oasis boorishness, was often more concerned with everyone getting along, and having a good time. The perfect musical movement, perhaps, as we charged towards the end of the 20th Century, and the dark unknown of the Y2K. I was just a little too late to enjoy it fully (I turned twelve in early 1998, as the genre began to dissipate) but the shadows of it reached deep into the music of my teens, the Stereophonics and the Coldplays and the Travises, and on into the indie-rock revival of 2003-2007.

But at the same time, perhaps it’s difficult to define what Britpop is, and why so many of its biggest names pre-dated and then outlasted it, because it was the first big musical movement to rely heavily on sounds that had gone before. Britpop was essentially a ‘Best Of’ British rock, taking everything from the Beatles to the Stone Roses, and all that came inbetween – the Kinks, the Small Faces, Slade, the Jam – distilling it into great pop songs. It was the last big evolution of rock music in the 20th century, the century that birthed rock and roll, but perhaps it was so backward-facing, so reverential to what had gone before, that it was also the last evolution of rock music, full stop. Like a Greatest Hits tour before the end of the rock ‘n’ roll century. Post-Britpop, guitar-led music never again dominated the pop charts. In 2024, the dominant British stars are rappers, DJs, female pop singers, and scruffy singer-songwriters types. And while I’m not such a rock snob that I can’t enjoy other types of music – hopefully I’ve made that clear plenty of times on the blog – I also can’t help looking back nostalgically to a time when guitar bands were the sound of the pop charts (though not the sound of the number one spot…)

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…

720. ‘Some Might Say’, by Oasis

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I’m both thrilled and downhearted that we’ve reached the beginning of the Oasis era. Much like I wrote in the intro to my last post, on Take That’s ‘Back for Good’… What can I add to the three decades’ worth of column inches dedicated to Britain’s most polarising band.

Some Might Say, by Oasis (their 1st of eight #1s)

1 week, from 30th April – 7th May 1995

Basically, what to say about Oasis that isn’t cliched? I need to approach this completely subjectively, then. Which isn’t hard, because Oasis were my first big musical love (OK, second… but we’ll deal with that Spice Girls-shaped elephant in the room when the time comes…) ‘Some Might Say’ has never been among my very favourite Oasis records but, actually, this is a good thing, as far as this post is concerned. It hasn’t been overplayed to death, and I’m glad that this made #1, and not the two #2 hits that followed.

On the other hand, I’d rather their two preceding singles – ‘Whatever’, or ‘Cigarettes and Alcohol’, had been the first chart-topper. ‘Some Might Say’ has some of the vim, the punkish energy of ‘Definitely Maybe’ – I’d say it’s the song from ‘What’s the Story…’ that could most easily slip onto their debut – but signs of bloat are already appearing. After a brilliant glam riff opening, it settles into a slightly plodding, overlong rock song (why, oh why, is this five and a half minutes long?) And, despite the long-held belief that Oasis were a rejection of grunge’s misery and introspection, there are some very heavy, grungy chords in the chorus.

I had a pop at Gary Barlow’s lyrics in that last post, and I have to call Noel out here too, even if this is where I tip into well-trodden cliché. Oasis lyrics walk the line between revelatory and ridiculous. One minute you’re thinking ‘Yes, profound!’. The next you’re thinking ‘Maybe not…’ Some might say they don’t believe in heaven, Go and tell it to the man who lives in hell… is a great line. Some might say you get what you’ve been given, If you don’t get yours I won’t get mine as well… is more at the ‘maybe not’ end. (Though we can all agree that The sink is full of fishes, She’s got dirty dishes on the brain… is a lyric for the ages…)

The star here, as in many of Oasis’s early songs, is the man interpreting these words, and making them his own. Liam. The last true rock star, and one of the all-time great frontmen. A beautiful moron (‘Some Might Say’ doesn’t have a proper video because he never showed up for the shoot), his sweetly aggressive vocals attack his brother’s unwieldy lines and transform them. Just try singing this song like he does. It’s very difficult – your voice ends up straining, and cracking, and getting lost among the walls of guitar (Oasis were, thankfully, never fans of understated production.)

Like I said, I once loved Oasis – growing up male, in small town Scotland, in the late ‘90s/early ‘00s, it was all but mandatory – but it is a love that has faded. I’ve accepted that they were limited, that they did have a habit of ‘borrowing’ riffs and melodies (even now I’ll listen to a Kinks album track and hear a bit that sounds familiar…), and that they believed their own hype a little too much. And yet, they were never as bad, as unoriginal, as much a Bargain Bucket Beatles, as some critics were desperate to make out.

Anyway, I’m writing as if this was their one and only chart-topper, not as if they have seven more to come. It’s easy to forget just how phenomenally successful they were. All seven of their studio albums entered the charts at #1, while ‘Some Might Say’ was the first of eight singles in a row to make either #1 or #2, between 1995 and 2000. It might not be the perfect song to be crowned their first chart-topper – the first chart-topper of the Britpop era even – but Some might say, We will find a brighter day… is perhaps the perfect summation of the Oasis manifesto.

669. ‘Dizzy’, by Vic Reeves & The Wonder Stuff

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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…