Readers’ Choices

Should Have Been a #1…? ‘They Don’t Know’, by Tracey Ullman

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Thanks again to our guest writers this week, who have donated fine posts on the Stones, Wizzard, ‘Crimson and Clover’, and the very concept of being ‘number one’... Our final guest post of the week comes from Kevin (AKA freddybobs) with the record he wishes could have taken that final step up to the number one position. And it’s another classic…

As in sport, getting to number one can grant you immortality, but the runners-up are yesterday’s jam in no time at all. So it is that ‘Karma Chameleon’ is still ubiquitous 40-plus years on, but you never hear a song that it kept pegged at number two for two weeks in the autumn of 1983.  I speak of “They Don’t Know” by Tracey Ullman.

They Don’t Know, by Tracey Ullman

#2 for 2 weeks in October 1983, behind ‘Karma Chameleon’

I think it’s one of the great love songs. No, I really do. It’s not a power ballad, because it doesn’t need to be. There’s no desperation or yearning or heartache to tell of; it’s a simple and joyful paean to young love where the only thing that matters is being with that one person, regardless of what others think. Because you know, and they don’t.

Kirsty MacColl was nineteen when she wrote it, and took the original version all the way up to #62 in 1979.  Some prefer her version, but for me Tracey’s cartoon-character voice sounds younger, and contributes to the overall feel of wide-eyed innocence.

The song opens with wedding chimes, lolloping piano and Tracey singing wistfully about her love for her own Prince Charming despite the disapproval of everyone she knows.  The words she uses describe something universal. I get a feeling when I look at you, she sings.  We don’t know what that feeling is, but we definitely recognise it. And her friends? When they look at you, they don’t see what I see... These are not complicated sentiments, they’re very simple; but they say more about the helpless joy of young love than a dozen Celine Dion songs ever could. And ultimately, the denouement: They’ve never heard of love.  No, they don’t understand; they couldn’t possibly. 

The song’s innocent feel is enhanced by its strong ’60s and Phil Spector influences. There’s definitely some Ronettes or Shangri-Las there, particularly in the “do do do” backing vocals in the middle-eight – ironically from Kirsty herself – as is the “Bay-bee” crescendo, a couple of notes that Tracey couldn’t quite reach…

The song was accompanied by a cheap and cheerful video featuring Tracey getting ready for a date at the bowling alley, blotting her lipstick with the Marc Bolan pics on the wall and pointing excitedly at her engagement ring. Then she sees his terrible attempts at bowling and grimaces at his awful shoes, but it doesn’t matter; she loves his faults as well. At the end, she’s wearing slippers at the supermarket; she’s dowdy, with a child in the trolley and another on the way. But “they” weren’t proved right. She fantasises about Paul McCartney and rolls her eyes when her moustachioed hero pinches her ass, but her joyfulness is undiminished.

And that’s one of the two elements that make this song so poignant. The song captures a feeling that everyone has at some stage or other, but yes, it’s bound to fade. No-one wants to live with that intensity forever, but it’s a shame it’s gone. 

The other element, of course, is Kirsty MacColl’s death aged just forty-one in Mexico in 2000. She debuted with her version, and the whole premise of the song – embarking on one of life’s great adventures – mirrors her own tentative steps into the music business.  And tragically, she died while there were still so many adventures ahead of her.

‘They Don’t Know’ was the second of three top ten hits by Tracey Ullman in 1983. She had a couple of minor hits in 1984 and then decided her pop career had probably peaked. So she resumed her comedy career to great success in the USA, where of course she premiered ‘The Simpsons’.

But yes, this stalled at number two behind ‘Karma Chameleon’, a frothy and lightweight zillion-seller, condemning this fabulous song to be forgotten before that year’s Christmas decorations were up. No-one ever said it was fair, but it would have been nice if Tracey and Kirsty had sneaked just a week from Boy George. For young lovers everywhere.

Thanks again freddybobs, and everyone else who has contributed a post, a like or a comment this week. And to everyone who has voted in our ultimate #1s polls below, too. There are still 24 hours to vote before I reveal the results, and it remains close!

What Does It Mean to Be Number One…?

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For our fourth guest post of the week, Keith (AKA nostalgicitalian) is pondering a philosophical point that all music lovers will have contended with at some time… The enduring popularity of terrible songs.

My friend Stewart, over at The UK Number Ones Blog reached out a while back and asked if I’d participate in a guest feature. By the time this posts, his site will have almost reached its 1000th number one song. This guest post is to help celebrate that amazing achievement.

Stewart gave us guest writers a lot of freedom. We could write whatever we want, as long as it has a connection to the “top of the charts.” With that being said, let’s pause for a moment and define “number one.”

According to Merriam-Webster: “Number one most commonly refers to the primary, most important, or highest-ranking person, thing, or priority in a given group.” I like this definition a little bit better: “Something that is first in rank or highest in quality.”

In other words, a number one song should be something of high quality. It should be the “best” song on the chart, but that isn’t always the case. You can glance over every Billboard Hot 100 chart and see for yourself here.

As I looked over the charts, I found that there were plenty of songs that had me wondering, “Just how did that piece of garbage go to number one?!” For starters, here is a quick list of number one songs from the 1960’s that left me shaking my head: ‘Alley Oop’, ‘Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini’, ‘Mr. Custer’, ‘Sukiyaki’, ‘Dominique’, ‘Ringo’, ‘Winchester Cathedral’, and ‘Honey’.  Some of them were number one for multiple weeks! 

I realize that some of those would be considered novelty songs. Novelty songs would begin to fade from the chart in the ’80s, but there were still some that hit number one in the ’70s.  Who can forget ‘The Candy Man’, ‘My Ding-a-Ling’, ‘The Streak’, and the awful ‘Disco Duck’?  Maybe I should rephrase the question to read “Who would like to forget them?” When you go back to the definition, is Disco Duck “something that is first in rank or highest in quality?” I highly doubt it! 

In 1996, the ‘Macarena’ was number one for a whopping fourteen weeks!  For what it is worth, it was a dance craze (much like ‘The Twist’ in the ’60s, which also went to number one).  It played at weddings and parties as well as on the radio.  It truly was popular, but was it really the best song of 1996?  There were only nine number one songs that year. You could argue that ‘One Sweet Day’ from Mariah Carey & Boyz II Men (11 weeks) or ‘Because You Loved Me’ from Celine Dion (6 weeks) were better songs, but musical tastes are subjective.

While I don’t find myself listening to much “current” music, there are certainly songs that fall into that category that I like.  However, I will offer one more song that I cannot believe spent multiple weeks at number one. Consider 2020’s ‘The Box’ by Roddy Rich. It contains many uses of the F-word and the N-word, and references to female genitalia, sexual acts and sexual innuendo. This was an 11-week number one song.

If a number one song should represent the “highest in quality,” and considering the songs presented above, does a song reaching number one really mean anything? I used to believe it did, but looking back I’m not so sure. One is just a number.

Keith writes about music, pop culture and life at nostalgicitalian.com. Thanks again Keith, for an original take on our topic. And for not giving in to nostalgia, and for pointing out that crap songs have been around for just as long as good ones!

I think this post is the perfect companion for our ongoing polls, in which you can choose your ‘best’ and ‘worst’ from my own favourite and least-favourite chart-toppers. Well over three-hundred and fifty votes have been cast so far, and it is still very tight at the top of both polls. Every vote counts! Results will go out on Sunday.

The Billboard Hot 100 Vs The UK Singles Chart

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Our next guest post comes from another long-time follower, who joined our journey sometime around the late 1950s. Max (aka Badfinger) blogs on music and pop culture at powerpop.blog, and has kept up with our wanderings through the charts even though we left his preferred ’60s and ’70s eras behind a while back. Today he’s writing about a lost hit from that time, and how it highlights the differences between the charts on either side of the Atlantic…

When I was growing up, my sister had this single. It was cracked, so she taped the B-side with scotch tape, and I would listen to it over and over. Of course, it went like “Crimson and Clov-CLICK-er.” But I didn’t care; it was a great song to me even with the hideous CLICK.

Now to the subject of the post. I’ve always been fascinated by how some bands could be huge in one country and barely make a dent in another. In America, we missed out on a lot of British acts like T. Rex, Status Quo, and Slade. At the same time, the UK never fully embraced some major American artists such as CCR, Bob Seger, and Grand Funk Railroad. They were certainly known there, but they never enjoyed the kind of success they had back home. I always wondered about that in bands and songs.

While I was writing up this song up a few years ago and typing out the chart position of it, I was shocked when I saw a blank in the UK chart position. I thought the source was wrong, so I emailed Stewart; no dice, it didn’t chart. This song is one of those records that proves the charts don’t always make sense. Tommy James and the Shondells were no strangers to success in the UK. ‘Mony Mony‘ had reached No. 1 there. But when it was released in early 1969, it failed to chart at all.

Part of the problem may have been that the song was unlike anything else on the radio at the time. It moved at a slower pace at mid-tempo. The tremolo effects on Tommy James’ voice and guitar gave it a dreamy sound. American audiences loved it. British listeners may have found it a little too different, bubblegum, or old hat. The UK music scene was changing quickly in 1969. Harder rock bands and progressive groups were starting to get more attention.

There is also the possibility that the record simply did not receive the promotion it needed. Maybe ‘Crimson and Clover’ (released January 1969) came too close after ‘Mony Mony’ (March 1968). Tommy James was always a bigger act in the United States and Canada than in Britain. In those days, radio play and television appearances could make a huge difference. If a record was not pushed hard enough, a song could get lost among dozens of new releases arriving every week. Of course, there was always the opposite, such as Ian Dury and the Blockheads, ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’, and many others that hit number 1 in the UK and did nothing here.

Just so everyone knows, I’m not knocking the UK for it not charting. It’s just amazing to me, though, how one song can be so big in one country and flop in the other…either way! Whatever the reason, Joan Jett actually charted Crimson and Clover in 1982 at #60 in the UK, and her version peaked at #7 in America and #4 in Canada. At least it made an appearance in the UK Charts!

Thanks again, Max. Everyone else be sure to check out his blogs, through which I’ve discovered so many songs over the years. And don’t forget to vote for the Best and Worst #1s! Results out on Sunday!

My First #1… ‘See My Baby Jive’, by Wizzard

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Today’s guest post comes from long-time follower John, aka popchartfreak, who I believe may have been my first ever commenter, back when each of my posts attracted around 2.5 views. He’s written about the first single he ever parted with cold, hard cash for. And it’s a classic. (Certainly cooler than the first record I ever bought, which was the soundtrack to ‘Joseph and His Technicolour Dreamcoat’.)

How could I celebrate the Number Ones Blog’s anniversary theme? Well, why not my first purchase of a single that was about to hit number one with the help of my pocket money: ‘See My Baby Jive’ by Wizzard, in 1973.

That track triggered in me a massive enthusiasm for Roy Wood, Wizzard, ELO and The Move back-catalogue to boot. Top Of The Pops helped: the outlandishly colourful outfits and makeup on Top Of The Pops and the Phil Spector wall-of-sound-reinvented was thrilling. I loved that record, a sort of glam rock update of the 60’s with added excitement so much so that it sat on top of my personal weekly charts for a record ten weeks.

So what exactly is great about it? In the first five seconds it sounds like an attention-grabbing aeroplane engine on Loud morphing into a furious drum beat, an orchestra strings section, female backing vocals and horns. It’s ten seconds in before Roy starts singing Look out! Look out! The backing singers stay on board throughout, giving it Ronettes vibes through to the hook and back to the verse. There’s no pace let up, the horn section stays big with lots of intricate riffs in the mix, to the instrumental bridge when the strings take centre stage, then the sax, then back to Roy. Verse, chorus, repeat chorus to a crescendo, different parts sung for variation and then to the final sax fizzle out solo via an instrumental bit, oh-oh-ohs, and the kitchen sink thrown in for added excitement. Talk about epic! My jaw still drops at this record, a mini-masterpiece of pop. Love it.

In total, Roy released a trio of Phil Spector-ish hit singles: ‘Angel Fingers’ (another number one) and ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’ – a universal Christmas classic that peaked at #4 (behind Slade), and that is still in the UK charts every Christmas fifty-three years later. Roy flirted with all sorts of stuff: ’50s revivalism for Wizzard, and his quirky solo career – album ‘Boulders’ was fabulous, he did 100% everything on the album instrumentally and vocally, hopping from Eurovision gospel to a ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ pastiche of a computer in love. Later, hit single ‘Forever’ was a Beach Boys via Neil Sedaka pastiche, and ‘Going Down The Road’ was bagpipes reggae. The man was a musical hero who could turn his hand to anything. Everybody in the UK still knows who Wizzard are in the 2020’s: that Father-Christmas-decked-out bloke who wishes it could be Christmas everyday! I just wish they could hear ‘See My Baby Jive’ for a change!

Thanks John. A great post on a great song. And a reminder to vote for your best and worst #1s before I reveal the results on Sunday!

Should Have Been a #1…? ’19th Nervous Breakdown’, by The Rolling Stones

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Welcome to the first of a week of guest posts to celebrate reaching our 1000th number one. First up, long-time follower John Van der Kiste gets things underway with an ode to an unruly, and perhaps unlucky, classic from the Stones…

When is a No. 1 not a No. 1? When it’s so controversial that mainstream retailers won’t stock it, and we argue that sales figures were ‘adjusted’ that week to keep it at No. 2? Or, when the Official Charts Company say no while the music press Top 30s suggest otherwise? That was the fate of The Rolling Stones’ ‘19th Nervous Breakdown’.

19th Nervous Breakdown, by The Rolling Stones

#2 for 3 weeks in February & March 1966, behind ‘These Boots Are Made for Walkin”

In the New Musical Express and Melody Maker charts, it enjoyed three weeks in pole position from 19th February 1966. Ditto for BBC TV’s Top of the Pops, which then based its weekly Top 20 on samplings from these and the other music weeklies, Record Mirror and Disc. The OCC, which has the Record Retailer Top 50 charts as its source from 1960 to 1969, made it No. 2 for those three weeks, with Nancy Sinatra’s ‘These Boots Are Made For Walkin’, walkin’ all over them at No. 1. Otherwise it would have given the band seven consecutive chart-toppers between July 1964 and May 1966.

It was written on their autumn 1965 American tour and recorded in December at RCA Studios, California, its title apparently inspired by an exhausted Mick Jagger saying he was about ready for his nineteenth nervous breakdown. As usual he wrote the lyrics, Keith Richards provided the music. However it’s not about work-related stress, but a poor little rich girl who was given everything by her parents, a mother who owed a million dollars tax and a father still perfecting ways of making sealing wax. She had a thousand toys, but still she cried all night. Jagger was moving in high society circles with glamorous girls ready to meet England’s most rebellious rock star if they could, and like Ray Davies of The Kinks, he was happy to satirise them mercilessly. He also sneaked in a subtle drugs reference, maybe to see if it got past the moral guardians: On our first trip I tried so hard to rearrange your mind… Radio and TV missed that.

There are some wonderful musical touches too, like when Brian Jones’ guitar borrows a distinctive lick from Bo Diddley’s ‘Diddley Daddy’, a 1955 American single. Towards the fade, Bill Wyman supplies that notable bass run. ‘I bounced the string with the top of my finger on the pickup, and ran my finger down the string,’ he said. ‘That’s what created that so-called dive-bombing sound.’ Not to mention a guitar fuzz tone on the riff before each chorus, or the sweet and sour vocal harmonies, or Charlie Watts’ superb drum fills and cymbal beats.

Had it not been for The Animals’ ‘House of the Rising Sun’ (4.29) in 1964, at 3.50 this would have been the longest UK No. 1 in terms of playing time until superseded a year later by Procol Harum’s ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’.

Because it wasn’t an ‘official’ No. 1, it seems to have flown a little below the radar on radio playlists. Perhaps it remains that bit more fresh for not having been aired so often as the band’s chart-toppers.

John has recently published a book in the Rock Classics Series on the Stones’ Let it Bleed album, plus an On Track title about Gerry Rafferty, with an On Track on Bob Seger, currently being edited and due for publication in July – all three through Sonicbond.

Don’t forget to vote for your best and worst number ones! I’ll publish the results on Sunday…

Number 1s Blog 5th Anniversary Special – Readers’ Favourite #1s – ‘Atomic’

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I hope you’ve enjoyed our week of guest writers. I’ll try not to wait another five years before inviting everyone back! Last up, we’re scooting forward to the early 1980s, and a new-wave classic. Of the four featured #1s this week, this is probably my personal favourite. But this isn’t about me! Vic, AKA the Hinoeuma, has been a long time follower and commentor of this blog, and she’s wrapping up our 5th Anniversary in style…

Discogs Blondie Atomic Image One
Image Credit: Discogs

‘Atomic’, by Blondie – #1 for 2 weeks in 1980

Stewart at UK#1s Blog asked his followers which UK #1 song was their favorite. There were so many to choose from but, I am a kid/young teen of the late 70s, early 80s and this was a no-brainer for me. This is, hands down, my favorite Blondie song. Just as a side note, my second choice was Cathy’s Clown by The Everly Brothers.

Released on February 23, 1980, Atomic was the ninth track on side two of the album Eat to the Beat, Blondie’s fourth album, produced by Mike Chapman. Written by Debbie Harry and Jimmy Destri, it was the third single released and the band’s third #1 in the UK Singles Chart. A rock, disco and new wave fusion, Atomic is described as “a cool, electronic enhanced dance number (PDF). Debbie Harry’s laidback vocals blend into the musical woodwork.”

‘Atomic‘, which featured King Crimson‘s Robert Fripp on guitar and Ellie Greenwich on backing vocals, was lyrically meaningless and was described in Record Mirror as ‘vapid and irritating…the best thing about this single is the live [cover] version of David Bowie‘s ‘Heroes‘ on the B-side (12″ UK single).’ “Jimmy Destri wrote this song…” Debbie claimed. “He was trying to do something like ‘Heart of Glass‘ and, then, somehow or another, we gave it the spaghetti western treatment. Before that, it was just lying there like a lox. The lyrics, well, a lot of the time, I would write while the band were just playing the song and trying to figure it out. I would just be kind of scatting along with them and I would start going ‘Oooooooh, your hair is beautiful‘.”

1000 UK #1 Hits
Jon Kutner & Spencer Leigh
May 26, 2010
Page 452

Atomic didn’t do as well in the US. It only made it to #39 on Billboard’s Hot 100, debuting on May 17, 1980 and peaking on July 5, 1980. It may be ‘lyrically meaningless’ but, it is certainly not vapid and irritating. It has a great beat and an energy that is hard to deny. Debbie’s vocals do, indeed, blend well with the ‘musical wood work.’ The single Call Me from American Gigolo had an instrumental version on the B-side and Debbie did some vocal blending with that, too.

The late Gia Carangi was dancing in the video.

Number 1s Blog 5th Anniversary Special – Readers’ Favourite #1s – ‘Hey Jude’

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Of the four ‘favourite’ records that I’m featuring this week, three are from the 1960s. The odd-one-out is tomorrow’s choice from 1980, but more on that in twenty-four hours… Whether this says something about the tastes, or the ages, of our guest writers, or whether it says something about the enduring quality of the Swinging Sixties, I’ll leave you to decide… Anyway, there’s nothing uncertain about the quality of today’s featured song, or the band that took it to #1. They had to feature, right? John Swindell AKA popchartfreak has chosen The Beatles’ 1968 epic, ‘Hey Jude’…

‘Hey Jude’, by The Beatles – #1 for 2 weeks in 1968

This record was ground-zero for me in my personal discovery of the UK singles chart rundown on a Sunday, Pick Of The Pops with DJ Alan Freeman, still iconic in his exciting presenting style. “Right? Right!”. Dad came back from work at RAF Swinderby in Lincolnshire, England with the news ‘Hey Jude’ had gone to number one. The longest-single to ever chart, by the biggest pop stars in the world that I’d grown-up with, and seen the films, and played the singles dad bought, were on Top Of The Pops with a great video. And it was exciting discovering the reverse chart-rundown on the radio. I was already a massive pop music fan, but this pushed me further into obsession, so many records I loved!

Until more recently ‘Hey Jude’ was far and away The Beatles most-popular record, in all it’s 7-minute singalong, slow-fade glory, and it was Paul at his ballad best. These days ‘Let It Be’ and ‘Here Comes The Sun’ tend to get the kudos over ‘Hey Jude’, but for me it’s still Jude. Written for young Julian Lennon after his parents split, it’s still got that hopeful sadness to it, being supportive to a child in distress and telling them everything will be alright – but slightly tweaked to make it more universal for everyone. Given the backdrop of assassinations, war, intolerance, racism and much more in 1968, it was a boost we needed. I was 10, but I was aware of all these things on the news.

Does it need to be 7 minutes and 11 seconds long? Yes, it does, it’s part of the build from slow sedate intro to manic screaming as the mood changes from sorrow to a crowd-thrilling climax, it’s still an emotional journey and a gradual build-up. Value for money? One of their biggest-sellers, it had a fabulous free John gem ‘Revolution’ on the B-side, and the only reason it didn’t stay on top for even longer was Paul had signed up folk singer Mary Hopkin to the Fabs new Apple record label and got to her to cover a Russian Folk song, ‘Those Were The Days’, which me and the record-buyers were even more enthusiastic about. In 1976 when all the Beatles singles were reissued with new record sleeves (rubbish ones) ‘Hey Jude’ peaked again at 12, higher than the rest of their back catalogue bar ‘Yesterday’ – which had never been a single before.

I took my mum to see Paul & Linda McCartney and their band in 1989 at Wembley Arena. It was thrilling hearing so many classics, but the peak moment was when Paul started ‘Hey Jude’ and I got goose-bumps. Sadly, as the audience was on its feet, a woman just in front of us took the opportunity to pass-out (overcome by the emotion of the moment) so the furore as staff dashed over to help put a dampener on the moment. Plus side, I can say ‘Hey Jude’ was still having a massive emotional impact on people over 20 years later. It’s still rated by some young music fans who have no memory of the 20th century, so I think that’s a pretty good reason to single it out even if I ignore what it means to me personally!

Number 1s Blog 5th Anniversary Special – Readers’ Favourite #1s – ‘Everlasting Love’

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In the five years that I’ve been writing these blog posts, I’ve covered thirty-five years of the singles chart, and 615 #1 singles. Which means that we are pretty much exactly halfway between 1952 and 2023! We’re not quite halfway through all the chart-toppers, however, as turnover between #1s really sped up in the late ’90s and early ’00s. Around 800 songs stand between us and February 2023.

Anyway, on to today’s guest writer: Max from PowerPop blog. His blog is a treasure trove of pop culture – music, films, TV shows and more, from the ’60s, 70’s and beyond. I’ve discovered so many cool songs from following his blog, and would recommend that you do so too… If you aren’t already! He’s has chosen Love Affair’s 1968 smash, ‘Everlasting Love’. Take it away, Max…

‘Everlasting Love’, by Love Affair – #1 for 2 weeks in 1968

First, it’s an honor to guest host on this wonderful blog! I have discovered many #1 songs that I never knew existed. It’s been a lot of fun going through history with UK #1s blog. I like learning about songs I like and dislike… The more trivial knowledge I can stuff in my brain the better. I like to give its creator a lot of good-natured fun over my dislike of (I even hate typing the name!) Madonna. I always look forward to commenting here.

I was looking through this blog in 2020 and I noticed this song and it hit me hard. It starts in with a cannon shot from the drums and that bass. I’ve been a bass player for a long time and I would love to get that sound now. I was struck on how modern the sound was, along with how Steve Ellis looked like he came from now not 1968. He didn’t look like he was old enough to drive… much less 18 years old. 

This version was much better than the Carl Carlton version I knew. I’m American and knew nothing about Steve Ellis and Love Affair. This version is not as slick, and it punches you in the face in the intro. The video intrigued me as well. The video is very 1960s with what is going on. The lingering flower power along with some 1920s thrown in. It has a nice vibe to it… the Charlie Chaplin girl and the other girl who are dancing around posters of Jimi Hendrix and LBJ… pure sixties. It makes you feel like you are there.

When you look back to 1968 and the music at that time… it was everywhere on the map. You had rootsy music, as in The Band. The Beatles and Stones also shed their psychedelic stuff for more pure music without the studio tricks. Other bands still explored psychedelic, folk, country rock, hard rock, and pop. The sixties had some of the best pop songs of any decade. This is one of those great pop songs.

Only Steve Ellis played on this recording. Studio musicians did the rest. Love Affair went onto achieve five more UK Top 20 hits on which the entire band did get to perform. ‘Everlasting Love’ peaked at #1 in the UK in 1968. It was written by Buzz Cason and Mac Gayden. It was originally recorded by Ray Knight and peaked at #40 in the UK, and at #13 in the Billboard 100 in 1967. Steve Ellis: “The general opinion seemed to be that I should do it with an orchestra and then give it a Phil Spector-type production. Obviously, I felt odd without the band being in the studio but it was for the good of all involved. Two takes and it was done. The band were not too concerned about this approach to things.”

Number 1s Blog 5th Anniversary Special – Readers’ Favourite #1s – ‘Silence Is Golden’

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This week marks FIVE YEARS since I launched this blog with a post on Al Martino’s ‘Here in My Heart’, the first number one single on the first NME chart, published on November 14th, 1952. Over the course of this half-decade, I’ve picked up some dedicated readers and commenters, to whom I’m very grateful for making this whole thing worthwhile. So, to celebrate the milestone, I’m going to hand the blog over to four of my long-time followers. They’ve all chosen their own favourite UK number one single (from between 1952 and 1988 because, well, we don’t want spoilers!)

Up first is John Van der Kiste, and his choice of The Tremeloes ‘Silence Is Golden’. John is a writer and historian, whose recent projects include a book on Manfred Mann in the 1970s, and ‘Eagles on Track: Every Album, Every Song’. His work can be found on Amazon.

‘Silence Is Golden’, by The Tremeloes – #1 for 3 weeks in 1967

When Brian Poole and the Tremeloes parted company in 1966, music pundits thought the former would remain a major star while his band would disappear without trace. They were wrong. After struggling with their first two singles, ‘Blessed’ (a Paul Simon song) and ‘Good Day Sunshine’ (Beatles), the band scored with Cat Stevens’ ‘Here Comes My Baby’, a No. 4 in 1967. Stevens disliked their version, complaining that they had turned his heartfelt love-gone-wrong song into a party romp.

For their fourth single, again they decided to take a sad song and make it better (see what I did there). ‘Silence is Golden’, originally the B-side of The Four Seasons’ ‘Rag Doll’ in 1964, was recommended as a potential hit to them by Mick Clarke, who briefly joined as their bassist before being (amicably) replaced by Len Hawkes. Taking a slow, slightly bitter number marked a change in style for them. In three verses and a chorus, the observer tells of his pain at seeing a girl (whom he presumably fancies) being deceived by a guy who obviously doesn’t deserve her. He’s dying to warn her, held back only by the fear that she will tell him he’s lying, so he’d better shut up. A miserable little triangle.

Even so, it flew out of the shops on both sides of the Atlantic. Most of the Trems’ songs featured Hawkes or drummer Dave Munden on lead vocal, but this time they gave the job to lead guitarist Rick West. It shows off the band’s harmonies to perfection. For the most part it follows the arrangement of the original closely with a change in key after the second chorus, the only change coming with a couple of repeats of the final line in a different melody instead of fading out.

1967 may have been the year of Sergeant Pepper, San Francisco and Monterey, but as far as the British charts went, it was big ballad time, with Frank and Nancy Sinatra, Engelbert Humperdinck, Long John Baldry, Tom Jones and The Dave Clark Five all getting sentimental and reaching No. 1 or else getting close. ‘Silence is Golden’ still remains a much-loved staple on 1960s oldies playlists, though some people have never forgiven it for denying The Kinks’ sublime ‘Waterloo Sunset’ the summit after three chart-toppers in three previous years.

(The Trems performing ‘Silence Is Golden’ live in 1967)

The Trems had their chance of repeating history not once but twice, but threw it away. In 1968 they were offered but rejected ‘(If Paradise Is) Half as Nice’, and Amen Corner reaped the benefit. Later they recorded Jeff Christie’s ‘Yellow River’ and scheduled it as a single, though after a change of heart they turned it down, whereupon their producer Mike Smith helped Christie form his own self-named band (with drummer Mike Blakley, whose brother Alan was a Tremeloe) – and take it all the way there in 1970. Also it’s interesting that, of their remaining singles, the most successful were back to the up-tempo party style, with other ballads faring poorly.

Their run of hits continued until 1971 and then faded away (apart from a minor chart entry in 1983 with their version of F.R. David’s ‘Words’), but they have continued to earn a living on the live circuit. Their line-up became something of a revolving door, with West leaving in 1972 after a battle with labyrinthitis, later rejoining on condition that he wouldn’t sing on stage but concentrate on guitar instead. Clarke, who had his moment at the top in 1974 with ‘Sugar Baby Love’ with The Rubettes, has recently been part of the line-up from time to time. The original foursome have all had health issues, with Blakley passing away in 1996 and Munden in 2020, though The Tremeloes have endured in one form or another. Hawkes is still a regular member, while his sons Chesney (as in ‘The One and Only’, No. 1 in 1991) and Jodie often join the line-up on guitar and drums respectively. No mean feat, for a band originally formed in 1958.