Indie

1020. ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’, by Arctic Monkeys

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Here we go! Arriving with a jolting, ascending guitar intro, an intro that conveys the sensation of sticking a fork in a toaster, comes British rock’s last hurrah.

I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor, by Arctic Monkeys (their 1st of two #1s) 

1 week, from 23rd – 30th October 2005

We’ve heard hints of the arrival of a mid-‘00s indie rock revival in number ones from Stereophonics and Oasis. But both those bands pre-dated the movement by several years. By 2005, indie rock had been a rising force for a while, since bands like the Strokes and Libertines appeared circa 2002, but the genre’s biggest act – the one band from this time who became properly, globally famous and remain a huge deal to this day – took their time in coming along.

That is probably down to the fact that they were still teenagers when this, their debut single proper, made number one. Arctic Monkeys are, famously, from Sheffield, and Alex Turner sings in an accent so thick that it makes the Gallaghers sound posh. That’s one of the things that makes this record great, and allows me to call it British rock’s last hurrah. It takes elements from everything that went before – the Beatles’ tight harmonies, the Jam’s melodic punk, the Sex Pistols’ spit and vinegar, Oasis’s working class schtick – and still turns out something new. You can tell that the Monkeys grew up listening to rap, in the way that they lyrics are delivered, and were influenced by that very northern British, kitchen sink realism, in the way the song tells its story of an unglamorous dancefloor encounter.

Mid-‘00s indie was a very modern musical movement in general, in that it grew organically on early social media sites like MySpace, and through illegal file sharing services. To the uninitiated, it might have felt like ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’ arrived out of nowhere to debut at #1 in October 2005, with the band having just been signed to a label that June, but in truth their reputation had been growing steadily ever since they’d first released music on bootleg CDs in 2003.

And, in a sign of what pop music was to become, the Arctic Monkeys brought their fans along with them. Their debut album was full of very specifically teenage lyrics, and specifically Yorkshire references. (One of my favourite lyrics of all time is from ‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’, taking aim at poseurs: You’re not from New York City, You’re from Rotherham…!) ‘I Bet You Look…’ doesn’t have a line as good as that, but No there ain’t no love no, No Montagues or Capulets, Just banging tunes and DJ sets… is up there for its clever gaucheness. And, at the end of the day, like all great rock ‘n’ roll, it’s a very horny song at heart.

Having said all that, and having given this track a deservedly glowing write-up, Arctic Monkeys are a band I struggle with. I bought the debut album, and the follow-up, and thought they chose their singles very well. But after that I struggled to love their music, and their last two albums have been a slog to listen to. On the one hand I admire their desire to move between genres, on the other I do think that there’s an element of them disappearing up their own arses. But we’ll have time to consider that after their second #1, coming up soon as part two of a quick fire chart double.

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1016. ‘The Importance of Being Idle’, by Oasis

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Well how about this… Almost forty years on from their final number one, a stunning, chart-topping comeback for the Kinks…

The Importance of Being Idle, by Oasis (their 8th and final #1)

1 week, from 28th August – 4th September 2005

Nah, course not. And to be fair, while this is clearly a Kinks pastiche, it’s not a rip-off of one particular song. If you did have to be specific, you could probably call ‘The Importance of Being Idle’ the bastard offspring of ‘Sunny Afternoon’ and ‘Dead End Street’ (the video is certainly influenced by the famous clip the Kinks did for the latter). Noel also revealed that he borrowed from the La’s ‘Clean Prophet’, in which they too had done their best Kinks impression.

But what of this Frankenstein’s monster of a song… Is it good? Well, yes. Given the parts it’s stitched together from how could it not be? It’s also unlike anything else in the Oasis canon, let alone any of their previous chart-toppers. It’s light and breezy, with a musical hall air and a sense of silliness. In fact, I’m tempted to use a word that has never come within ten feet of any Oasis record up to now: it’s kind of camp. 

For a start, it’s a play on an Oscar Wilde title. But it also has slide whistles, and big boinging drums, and Rhys Ifans prancing around as an undertaker in the video. If only they’d gone the whole hog and put Liam in drag, a la Dave Davies in the Kinks’ original. ‘Lyla’ was a slight musical shift for Oasis, but this is a real hint at what was to come for Noel in his solo career, especially with the High Flying Birds.

We can also, perhaps surprisingly, draw a comparison between this and the McFly song it deposed from the top, as both deal with depression, in their own ways. While McFly had a positive mantra, Noel seems to be wallowing in his life of unpaid bills, frustrated girlfriends, and general laziness… Give me a minute, A man’s got a limit, I can’t get a life if my heart’s not in it…

Continuing the trend of low sales benefiting fanbase acts, Oasis follow U2, Britney, Nelly, McFly and Eminem in taking two singles from their latest albums to the top. This was the third time Oasis had done this, but the first time doing it with consecutive singles, and in the same calendar year. In my post on ‘Lyla’ I wrote of how well Oasis did big, bolshy lead singles. But ‘The Importance of Being Idle’ is a welcome addition to their three non-lead chart-toppers, which have all been a bit different (‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ and ‘All Around the World’ being the other two). This, their eighth #1, tied them with the Stones, making them the rock act with the joint-third most number ones, behind the Shadows (eleven) and the Beatles (seventeen, at the time).

And this was it from Oasis, from the chart-topping side of things. In fact, it was almost the end from them musically too, with one further album to come before they finally imploded in 2009. Despite the brothers’ recent reconciliation in a touring capacity, there have been no suggestions that they will be getting back into the studio. And it’s a shame that on their recent tour, they pretty much ignored anything released post-2000, meaning that classics like this remain somewhat buried under their biggest hits. Oh what I’d give for this to have a resurgence, and not bloody ‘Wonderwall’ yet again… 

I’m back from a month’s travels, and so we’ll hopefully be picking up the pace again and posting a little more regularly!

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1007. ‘Dakota’, by Stereophonics

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We’re slap bang in the middle of the ‘00s. I was nineteen, in my second year at university, and out at the dancing three or four times a week…

Dakota, by Stereophonics (their 1st and only #1)

1 week, from 6th – 13th March 2005

Before you fear that I’ll turn this post into a nostalgia-fest, and start banging on about blue WKDs and skinny jeans, I’m getting to a salient point. A lot of the music I heard on those nights out wasn’t just the pop and dance we’ve been hearing in recent posts. It was, as the Killers sang, indie rock and roll for me.

So ‘Dakota’ is a mini landmark number one, as it is the first chart-topper from the mid-00s indie revival. Think Franz Ferdinand, think Arctic Monkeys, think Kaiser Chiefs, Libertines, the Strokes, White Stripes and more. Like Britpop a decade earlier, it didn’t get a whole lot of representation at the very top of the charts, but there will at least be a few more rocking #1s in the coming months, and that is something to celebrate after the very pop-heavy opening years of the 21st century.

Of course, Stereophonics predated all these new-kid-on-the-block indie acts. You could class them as Britpop, but they weren’t that either. They emerged during that post-Britpop comedown that also gave us Travis, and Coldplay (a period Alan McGee famously dubbed ‘bedwetter indie’). They were probably overdue a number one single, as Britain’s pre-eminent rock group of the very early ‘00s.

But for this comeback single they were tapping into the sounds of the time, taking a step away from their usual pub rock anthems. ‘Dakota’ sounds like the Killers, with its synth stabs, crossed with U2 in the humungous chorus, and some Manics in the spiky guitars. It’s a big tune, clearly written for tens of thousands to sing along to in stadiums, and while I liked it at the time I’m finding it a bit plodding now.

The chord progression in the chorus is still good, and the thrashing I don’t know where we are going… break is still impressively heavy. But I’ve always had mixed feelings about Stereophonics. For every song of theirs I like – the bitchy ‘Mr Writer’, for example – there’s a song I find bloated and dull – i.e. ‘Just Looking’. And Kelly Jones’ sandpaper drawl is a voice I can only take for three songs at a time.

I also think ‘Dakota’ is a bit of an inferior retread of Stereophonics’ previous single, ‘Moviestar’ – a slinkier, more sinister slice of electro-rock. But, this is the record that brought them a belated #1 after nine earlier Top 10 hits. And it was their chart peak, after a very slow ascent, and they have never returned to the Top 10 since.

But hey, at least they kicked off the ‘mid-00s indie rock revival’. Not quite as catchy a genre title as ‘punk’ or ‘glam’, but still. It was probably rock music’s very last hurrah as a chart force. And I may be biased, as it was the soundtrack to my yoof, but it also gave us some great tunes. Not ‘Dakota’, not quite, but there’s better to come soon.

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799. ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’, by Manic Street Preachers

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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!***

785. ‘Brimful of Asha’, by Cornershop

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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!

The 1997 original:

The Norman Cook Remix:

781. ‘All Around the World’, by Oasis

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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.

773. ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’, by The Verve

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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…

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.

757. ‘Your Woman’, by White Town

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In my last post I promised you something quirky. Is this quirky enough for you? Are you not quirked??

Your Woman, by White Town (his 1st and only #1)

1 week, from 19th – 26th January 1997

A gender-bending tale, centred around a trumpet sample from the 1930s, all written , recorded and produced by a fairly geeky looking chap in his bedroom. And catchy. I should also mention that it’s incredibly catchy.

It’s also very hard to describe. Is it dance, funk, indie, Britpop…? Is it lo-fi, hip-hop… boom bap?? (I have no idea what ‘boom bap’ is – Wikipedia suggested it, and I just liked the sound of it.) It’s at times creepy – the horn sample sounds like a haunted gramophone – but also quite funny – the middle eight with the plinky-plonky Game Boy sound effect is brilliant, my favourite part of the song, but also surely a musical piss-take.

Most of all it’s pretty subversive. Musically so, because number one singles aren’t meant to be recorded by nerds in their bedroom. And lyrically, because it sounds at first like our most explicitly gay chart-topper since ‘Relax’. A clipped, very English-sounding man delivering lines like: Well I guess what you say is true, I could never be the right kind of boy for you, I could never be your woman… The man behind it has said that it’s not explicitly queer though, more just about loving someone who isn’t right for you, when love and lust get mixed with your highbrow ideals…

The man behind White Town being Jyoti Mishra, born in India and raised in Derby, who had been in bands since the late 1980s and was well-known in underground scenes. ‘Your Woman’ was pushed heavily by Radio 1, leading to it entering the charts at the top, but Mishra struggled to follow it up. Having signed with EMI, he felt a loss of creative freedom, as well as frustration at his sudden fame. Frustrating for me is the fact that the follow-up to ‘Your Woman’ managed to scrape to #57, meaning that White Town isn’t strictly a one-hit wonder.

I mentioned above that the trumpet hook came from the ‘30s, more specifically ‘My Woman’, a 1932 hit written by Bing Crosby. (The music video nicely plays with the 1930s theme, aping the pratfalls and scene fades of old silent films.) The version sampled by Mishra is a different version, still from 1932, by Lew Stone & His Monseigneur Band. It’s been used since by rapper Naughty Boy and, probably most famously, by Dua Lipa on her 2020 song ‘Love Again’. It’s also been suggested that the original trumpet riff inspired one of the world’s most famous pieces of film score: the ‘Imperial March’ from Star Wars.

Jyoti Mishra and White Town were quickly dropped by EMI, and went back to recording independently, releasing their most recent album last year. For the 20th anniversary of ‘Your Woman’, he re-recorded the song using instruments commonly used in 1917. Because why not. Back in 1997, the tune was such a smash that it made its way onto ‘Now That’s What I Call Music 36’, which was the first edition of the series I ever bought, on cassette, probably with my 11th birthday money. And I’m not just inventing a cute ending for this post when I say that back then ‘White Town’ was my favourite track across the whole four sides… It really was.

746. ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’, by Deep Blue Something

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I’ve made a big deal about British rock (‘indie’, ‘Britpop’, call it what you will) not getting its fair share of airtime at the top of the singles chart in the ‘90s. I even did a special post on it. But here’s an even rarer sighting of the US equivalent…

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, by Deep Blue Something (their 1st and only #1)

1 week, from 29th September – 6th October 1996

When I think of US alternative rock, post-grunge, in the mid-1990s, I think of REM, the Chili Peppers, Hootie & the Blowfish, and… I’m struggling, to be honest. Britain was bursting at the seams with their own alt-rock, and not many American acts broke through. Here then is US indie, alt-, college (again, call it what you will) rock’s one week in the sun. I might even go as far as suggesting that this is the first such #1 since The Highwaymen in 1961, though that might be pushing things slightly.

It’s a catchy record, with jangly verses which contrast against the power chords in the chorus. It’s a very different sound to Oasis, or Blur – there’s an earnestness to US rock that its British equivalent often deliberately avoids – but I’m sure the prevalence of Britpop benefitted this in making it to #1. And, though I was still young at the time, I can remember it being everywhere on the radio…

The most interesting thing about this record is the lyrics. Even the title intrigues… ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’? I make it only the second number one single to share its name with a book, after ‘Wuthering Heights’, but I’ll happily be proven wrong if I’ve forgotten one! It’s about a dying relationship, that the singer tries to save by thinking of one thing the pair have in common. And I said, What about, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s? She said I, Think I, Remember the film… I think we’re meant to assume that this is enough for them to give it another go. I always thought that the next line was And as I recall, I read the book and I liked it… with the film and the book versions of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ being pretty different and a sign of the couple’s ill-suitedness… Except it turns out that the real line is as I recall I think we both kinda liked it… Call me a cynic, but my subconscious didn’t want them to stay together.

I see a lot of hate for this song online, hate that was also around at the time. And I can kind of see it, the fact that it’s cookie-cutter mid-nineties soft rock. The lyrics could also be seen as contrived, though I think they’re endearingly clumsy. It’s certainly not worthy of #6 on the ‘50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs Ever’ list, as VH1 and ‘Blender’ named it!

Deep Blue Something were from Denton, Texas and, despite forming in 1991 this was their first hit. Their only hit in much of the world, apart from in the UK. We felt sorry for them, and allowed their follow-up ‘Josey’ to make #27, sparing them a one-hit wonder tag. They split in 2001, but reformed in 2014. The members juggle being in Deep Blue Something with other day jobs in the music industry. Apart from, that is, guitarist Clay Bergus, who is a manager of Eddie V’s Prime Seafood restaurant in Fort Worth. Which is great.