684. ‘I Will Always Love You’, by Whitney Houston

I’ve enjoyed my journey through 1992, a year short on number one hits (just twelve) but a year that has valued quality over quantity. I’ve not actively disliked any of its chart-toppers, the worst I could say is that a couple have been fairly bland (yes, KWS, I’m looking at you). But before we wrap this year up, we have to grapple with its final hit. The year’s biggest-selling, longest-running #1…

I Will Always Love You, by Whitney Houston (her 4th and final #1)

10 weeks, from 29th November 1992 – 7th February 1993

The early nineties is the era of the soundtrack single. And it’s bookmarked by three songs-from-movies in particular, each of which got into double figures at the top of the charts. Enter Part II, then: Ms Houston, and the love theme from her blockbuster ‘The Bodyguard’. (And, as an aside, isn’t it interesting that both this and the earlier ginormous soundtrack #1 were from films starring heartthrob du jour Kevin Costner…?)

Anyway. First off, this record gets a lot of stick. It’s overblown, over-sung, overplayed… A misuse of Whitney’s undoubted talents. It also has the misfortune to be a cover – a cover of a wistful, tender original by the universally beloved Dolly Parton. Bryan Adams’ sixteen-week monster at least had nothing to compare it with… But is this stick justified? Does ‘I Will Always Love You’ deserve the hate…?

Well, yes. Let’s be honest, it’s rotten. A bloated whale corpse of a record. All the complaints I had about ‘Everything I Do (I Do It for You)’ – that it was too much, too serious, missing the tongue-in-cheek silliness that any good power-ballad needs – also apply here. Plus, this adds a teeth-grinding saxophone solo for good measure.

But what’s also annoying about this record is that for the first three minutes or so, it’s actually pretty dull. I compared Whitney’s most recent #1, ‘One Moment in Time’, to a couple of rounds in a boxing ring. She grabbed that tune, and pummelled the listener into oblivion with it. Ridiculous, of course; but I enjoyed the bombast. Yet on ‘I Will Always Love You’, she sleepwalks her way through the first couple of verses, with their gloopy production, and sleazy sax. Then comes the moment that everyone remembers when they think about this song: the pause, the drumbeat, and the rocket launch into the final chorus.

It’s like she knew that this song would be a millstone around her neck for the rest of her career, and thought ‘fuck it, we might as well have some fun’. Either that, or she foresaw that this would be murdered in karaoke bars from here to eternity, and so decided to make it impossible to copy, by going through her full repertoire of trills, belting, melisma… you name it. Because while you might disagree with her approach to this song – and I do – there’s no denying that the woman could sing. It’s an ending so aggressive, so over the top, that the ‘love theme’ becomes a stalker’s anthem: I-ee-ayye will always love you-hoo… (and there’s nothing you can do about it!)

This song stayed at number one for ten weeks – a total that Bryan Adams would have scoffed at, but that gave Houston the record for a female soloist. It made the top in late November, stayed there as Xmas #1, and was still there at the end of January to become my 7th birthday number one. (My ‘girlfriend’ at the time – we were in Primary 3 – liked to sing this to me as we walked home together…) Wikipedia lists it as making #1 in twenty-three countries, though I’m sure there were more. It set a new record for weeks at #1 on the Billboard chart, and remains the planet’s best-selling song by a female act… ever.

Yet here ends Whitney Houston’s British chart-topping career. From smooth jazz (‘Saving All My Love for You’), to dance pop (‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’), to overblown power-ballads (the last two). Her chart career, though, was far from over, and in fact she would go on to release some her best records once her voice had deteriorated through age (and drug use), meaning she could no longer attempt ginormous ballads like this one. ‘My Love Is Your Love’, ‘It’s Not Right but It’s Okay’, and ‘Million Dollar Bill’, among others, are all great.

Whitney died in 2012, after a troubled life, aged just forty-eight. A sad way for one of the most technically gifted singers of all time to go. Among the tributes paid upon her death was one from Dolly Parton, whom the media had suggested wasn’t happy with Houston’s cover at the time. Parton thanked her for bringing her song to a wider audience (not to mention for the royalties that must have rolled in…)

667. ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You’, by Bryan Adams

Oh Lordy, here we go…

(Everything I Do) I Do It for You, by Bryan Adams (his 1st of two #1s)

16 weeks, from 7th July – 27th October 1991

The 1980s gets the rep as the era of the power-ballad, when big drums and even bigger hair stalked the pop landscape. And yes, the ‘80s gave us ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, ‘Take My Breath Away’, ‘The Power of Love’… All gigantic anthems. All of them, to me at least, pretty good. But the 1990s was when power ballads really started to bulk up, to hit the gym, to mutate, Jurassic World-style, into the beast that stands before us now…

Everything about this record is colossal. The slow-build intro, the strained vocals, the sentiment, the production… Nothing is subtle, nothing left to chance. The title, even, tells you exactly what sort of song this will be before you even press play. The listener is not required to think; they merely have to submit to its awesome power. I bet very few of the couples who’ve chosen this as a first dance at their wedding actually like the song; they’ve just been bludgeoned into submission, a sort of musical Stockholm syndrome.

I could pick any line from ‘(Everything I Do…)’ and bask in its cliched stupidity. It’s all the sort of the stuff even a lovestruck fourteen-year-old would think was too overwrought. Take me as I am, Take my life, I would give it all, I would sacrifice… Bryan Adams growls. I get that we live nowadays in a more cynical age, but did anyone actually take this seriously at the time?

Well, probably. Because a record this overblown couldn’t just have a couple of weeks at #1. Not even a couple of months would suffice. No, ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You’ needed sixteen long weeks at the top to get its message across. It famously holds the record for the most consecutive weeks at number one (though not the most weeks in total: Frankie Laine’s ‘I Believe’ racked up eighteen over three different runs in 1953). And the UK wasn’t alone in suffering through a summer (and autumn) of Adams. It was #1 for seven weeks in the US, nine in his homeland of Canada, eleven in Australia, and twelve in Sweden.

But there’s a reason why this record, despite its success, has been semi-forgotten, and earlier power ballads by Bonnie Tyler and co remain well-loved. ‘(Everything I Do)…’ just isn’t fun. There’s nothing here that isn’t full-on, one-hundred percent sincerity. And for a power ballad to truly work, you need to feel that the singer is aware, on some level, that what they’re singing is ridiculous. And yet here’s this behemoth, with all the charm of a constipated brontosaurus. Adams isn’t an insufferable guy – he’s recorded plenty of fun, upbeat songs – but this one…? It’s way too earnest.

It’s also probably an indicator of where we are, in pop music terms. The fun of glam metal has fizzled out, and grunge hasn’t quite broken through yet. (Symbolically, ‘Nevermind’ was released right in the middle of this record’s long, long run at the top…) Glam metal hadn’t made much impact at the top of the British charts (neither would grunge for that matter), but it did mean that guitars slowly returned to the mainstream and allowed huge hit singles like this. (Compare this with a power-ballad from the mid-eighties, and it’s much more ‘rock’.)

This single was of course from the soundtrack to ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’, the ginormous box-office hit of that summer. Chart-toppers from movie soundtracks have been around since the dawn of the charts, but it does feel as if they are taking over in the early nineties. Of the last five #1s, all have been from soundtracks (if we count stage shows as well as films). And this won’t be the last theme song to make it to double-figures at the top of the charts. We’ve got plenty more of these mutant power-ballads to come soon… Brace yourselves.

(For some reason, the single-edit version of the video to ‘(Everything I Do)…’ seems to have been erased from history in favour of the six and a half minute album version.)

666. ‘Any Dream Will Do’, by Jason Donovan

Jason Donovan’s final UK number one throws us a bit of a curveball… Musical theatre chart-toppers are generally few and far between, as are hit songs based on bible stories. But perhaps the strangest thing about this song is Jason himself…

Any Dream Will Do, by Jason Donovan (his 4th and final #1)

2 weeks, from 23rd June – 7th July 1991

Given a blind listening test, there’s no way you would peg this for the same guy who just two years ago was singing ‘Too Many Broken Hearts’. He sounds so proper, so refined. Not that he was a hellraiser back in his SAW days; but he’s gone full musical the-ay-tah, pronouncing every syllable and projecting his voice right to the cheap seats. My gran, whose main requirement in a singer was that you could ‘make out what they were saying’, would have approved.

Away from JD, the record’s production is average, verging on cheap, and the kids’ choir in the background sounds phoned-in. It is of course from ‘Joseph and The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat’, an Andrew Lloyd-Webber/Tim Rice musical based on the story of Joseph, from the Book of Genesis. They had written it in the late sixties, but the show hadn’t had a run in the West End for almost twenty years before a revival, starring Donovan as the title character, turned it into one of Britain’s best-loved musicals. Lloyd-Webber, meanwhile, scored his second #1 in under a year, after bringing us Timmy Mallett and his infamous bikini

It’s a well-trodden path. A pop star’s hits begin to dry up and so they migrate to the stage. Not that Jason Donovan had fallen that far from his heyday – his second album had produced three Top 10 hits, though no #1s – but perhaps he could see which way the wind was blowing. It was a smart move, bringing him to the attention of a whole new audience, and gaining him a pretty unexpected swansong at the top of the charts.

If I’m honest, it’s hard for me to judge this song with any sort of impartiality. We have, in fact, reached a massive milestone. After five and half years of writing, and six hundred and sixty-six number ones (note the irony of a bible-based song being the 666th…) we arrive at the first chart-topper that I was actually aware of at the time. In fact the soundtrack to ‘Joseph…’ was the first CD I ever owned, while I went on a Sunday school trip to see the show in Edinburgh (though by that point I believe it was Phillip Schofield in the starring role).

And so, what would otherwise be a fairly unremarkable chart-topper, save for the odd coda it gave Donovan’s chart-career, takes on great significance. For me, at least. I can’t hear the soaring A crash of drums, A flash of light… line without picturing that old worn-out CD (although my favourite songs at the time were the country-ish ‘One More Angel in Heaven’ and the unhinged jazz-polka of ‘Potiphar’).

I’ve written before about Jason Donovan (and Kylie) being pop ground zero for older millennials like me. Kylie may have gone on to slightly bigger things – she’s literally back in the Top 10 as I write this, aged fifty-five, an absolute icon – but Jason has remained in the public eye for better (a plethora of stage and light entertainment shows) or worse (lawsuits and drug addiction). When I was a student, the mere suggestion that he might be making a private appearance at a nightclub would be enough to sell the place out. (It happened several times, and he never once turned up…) So here’s to you, Jason Donovan. Not many pop stars had a bigger impact on my formative years.

665. ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’, by Color Me Badd

I arrive at this next chart-topper, and a question immediately springs to mind: what’s worse – the name of the song, or the name of the group?

I Wanna Sex You Up, by Color Me Badd (their 1st and only #1)

3 weeks, from 2nd – 23rd June 1991

I mean, both could win the pop music equivalent of the Razzies. But for me it’s the song title that is a smidge more excruciating. And that’s because it lends its name to four minutes of cringe-inducing boyband R&B. Come inside take off your coat, I’ll make you feel at home… squeaks a Poundshop Prince. The lyrics start of icky – all lighting candles and pouring wine – and only get ickier…

For example: Disconnect the phone so nobody knows… Personally, I don’t see disconnecting the phone as a sexy move; more a creepy, ‘there’s no escape’ kind of move. And then there’s the piece de resistance: making love until we drown… dig… Drown in what, dare I ask? (Vomit, probably, given the way these lyrics are making me feel.)

There’s a spoken-word section, of course, though it’s more of a whispered-word section: Just lay back, Enjoy the ride… The only redeeming moments in the song are the two hooks – the ooh-ooh-eeh-ooh and the tick tock ya don’t stop – that run on a loop. In fact, if you can block out the lyrics, the song itself sounds very modern. If I hadn’t known, then I’d have placed it in the mid-to-late nineties, rather than 1991. The song featured on the soundtrack (another soundtrack #1!) to ‘New Jack City’, an action-crime movie featuring the likes of Chris Rock, Wesley Snipes and Ice-T.

Was this controversial at the time? Few #1s have been this upfront about sex, save for Serge and Jane, and Frankie saying ‘Relax’. (Off the top of my head, I believe this might be the first chart-topper to feature the word ‘sex’ in its title.) Or did people just write it off as simply too ridiculous to be a threat to young and impressionable minds? The video is nowhere near as saucy as it might have been, mainly featuring the four Badds sauntering along railway tracks, like NKOTB’s moody older brothers. And, of course, it seems very PG-13 compared to some of the songs that have made number one between then and now, from ‘Freak Me’ to Megan and Cardi B’s wet-ass you-know-whats…

Color Me Badd were four high school friends from Oklahoma, who were helped on their way to brief stardom by Robert Bell of Kool & The Gang, who found them a manager, and Bon Jovi, who let the boys open for them at a concert in New York. They were a racially diverse group, too: one white, one black, one Mexican, and one part Native-American.

They had two further #1s in the US (where ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’ stalled at #2), including the actually pretty great ‘All 4 Love’, which was their only other UK Top 10. They split up in 1998. They’ve left behind a complicated legacy: some sources list this as one of the ‘50 Worst Songs Ever’, while others have it as one of the ‘100 Greatest Songs of the ‘90s’. Personally I’d lean towards the former, though it is so silly in places that it almost becomes quite fun.

664. ‘The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss)’, by Cher

Twenty-six years after her first number one single, Cher finally claims her second. (That’s a record by the way, for longest gaps between chart-toppers, beating one set by The Righteous Brothers just a few months before. It would stand until the mid-‘00s, when Leo Sayer broke it. And it would stand as the record for a female act right through until 2022, when Kate Bush ran up that hill to #1.)

The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss), by Cher (her 2nd of four #1s)

5 weeks, from 28th April – 2nd June 1991

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. A record breaker it may be, but what of the song? And why? Why, after all the ‘70s and ‘80s hits that Cher delivered, was it this camp and catchy cover of an old Betty Everett tune which brought her back to the top? It’s a pretty faithful cover, with lots of glossy production touches. It goes without saying that there’s more authenticity to the simple percussion used in Everett’s version; but there’s also something quite fun in the kitchen-sink approach taken to this cover. An approach typified by the way Cher over-sings pretty much every line, from the opening Does he love me? I wanna know! to the song’s most ridiculous moment: Oh no! That’s just his arms!

But she does it with such gusto, Cher in character as Cher, selling the impression that she was having a tonne of fun while singing it, and sweeping the listener along with her. It’s a mere notch above karaoke, but when Cher’s in this mood who cares? If I believed in the concept of ‘guilty pleasures’, then this would definitely be one of mine.

It was recorded for the soundtrack of the movie ‘Mermaids’, a film that seems pretty well-regarded but that – as with so many of these recent soundtrack hits’ origins – I have never seen. The video is cute, though, with Cher using the lyrics as a lesson to her two on-screen daughters, played by Winona Ryder and Christina Ricci.

As fun as this record is, I must admit myself surprised to find that this was Britain’s second highest-selling song of 1991. For a start, Cher was in her mid-forties when it made #1 – ancient in female chart-topping terms – while, for all its charms, it’s a fairly basic cover. Betty Everett’s original had only made #34 in the UK, though a disco version by Linda Lewis had gone Top 10 in 1975. Linda Ronstadt also had a habit of performing it live, on TV and in concert. Perhaps, then, it was the simple combo of a familiar favourite and the star power of Cherilyn Sarkisian. And the nineties would go on to be Cher’s best era by far for number one singles. She has two more to come, including one of the decade’s defining pop hits…

663. ‘The One and Only’, by Chesney Hawkes

Next up, a beloved nineties classic…

The One and Only, by Chesney Hawkes (his 1st and only #1)

5 weeks, from 24th March – 28th April 1991

…which I’ve never understood the love for. It does have a fun intro, I will admit, with what sounds like guitars fed through a motorbike engine. And at the time, the first appearance of the soaring title line: I am the one and only… must certainly have caught the ears.

But beyond that, and with the benefit of hindsight and over-saturation, this is a very middling effort. As Chesney Hawkes moves into the first verse, things settle down into run of the mill power balladry. It’s not helped by the fact that the lyrics read like a self-help book: No one can be myself like I can, For this job I’m the best man… And while this may be true, You are the one and only you… It’s all pretty lame: ‘rock’ music for people who don’t quite know what rock music is.

And yet, it is rock. Ok, pop rock. Guitars feature prominently, though, and there’s a solo – one that fades in comparison to those we’ve heard recently from Queen and Iron Maiden, but still. It’s another tick in the ‘rock is making a comeback’ box as we move deeper into the 1990s. My problem is that this was played to death in nightclubs when I was a student, and the chorus is up there with ‘Sweet Caroline’, or ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’, for punchable ubiquity. No amount of alcohol can make me enjoy it these days, and I’m not sure I ever did. (God, with this and ‘The Stonk’, I’m sounding quite the curmudgeon recently…)

Chesney Hawkes was just nineteen when this, his debut single, made number one. His boy-next-door charms are undeniable – outrageously floppy hair and cute mole on the upper lip – but no self-respecting rock star pronounces ‘rather’ like he does. He came from chart-topping stock, though: his father was Len ‘Chip’ Hawkes of The Tremeloes, who played on their 1967 number one ‘Silence Is Golden’. (Nowadays Chesney acts as lead-singer when the Tremeloes go on tour.) And that’s not the only sixties link we can make here, as ‘The One and Only’ came from the soundtrack to ‘Buddy’s Song’, a film starring Hawkes as a wannabe rock star and none other than Roger Daltrey as his dad. In fact, this is possibly as close as a member of The Who ever came to featuring on a number one single… (though to be fair did Pete Townshend play bass on ‘Something in the Air’)

Chesney failed to repeat the success of his debut single, and has never charted higher than #27 with any of his subsequent releases. He’s still active in the public eye, appearing on various reality TV shows and, of course, the nineties nostalgia circuit. He’s only fifty one, despite his biggest hit coming thirty two years ago, which is suddenly making me feel very old as well…

660. ‘Do the Bartman’, by The Simpsons

As with all novelty singles, I approach this next number one with trepidation, my finger hovering reluctantly over the play button. But the intro actually sounds quite cool: a new jack swing beat and a squelchy bassline. Something by Janet Jackson perhaps, or a Prince ‘B’-side…

Do the Bartman, by The Simpsons (their 1st and only #1)

3 weeks, from 10th February – 3rd March 1991

The only version available on Spotify is the five minute (!) album version – from ‘The Simpsons Sing the Blues’ LP – so I don’t know for how long this intro did its funky thing on the single-edit. Eventually Homer comes in, yelling at Bart for some unspecified misdemeanour. Nobody saw me… I didn’t do it…

From here on things follow a fairly formulaic hip-hop single format: i.e. rapper tells us how great he is. Except here the rapper is a yellow cartoon boy, voiced by a thirty-five year woman (kudos to Nancy Cartwright here, as it can’t be easy rapping while putting on such a voice). There are some fun lines: I’m the kid that made delinquency an art, Last name Simpson, First name Bart… but the song ends up caught between not being funny enough to work as a novelty, yet still being gimmicky enough to annoy. The ‘joke’ wears especially thin on the, it bears repeating, five minutes long extended album version.

The fact that this does almost work as a pop song is probably down to the alleged involvement of Michael Jackson. He’s not credited – his label insisted he couldn’t be – and there are differing accounts of what he actually contributed towards the song, but it seems he wrote some of the lyrics and contributed backing vocals, as well as giving the song its title. He also apparently insisted that he be name-checked (If you can do the Bart, You’re bad like Michael Jackson…) Jackson would also feature in an episode of The Simpsons a few months after this had been a hit single. The video too is a six-minute long MJ-esque epic, in which Bart takes over a school talent show with his new dance routine (or was it all a dream…?)

It’s credited to ‘The Simpsons’, but it’s largely just Bart. Lisa gets a saxophone solo, and Homer gets to yell throughout. Marge and Maggie are conspicuous by their absence. I wonder if, to many British listeners, ‘Do the Bartman’ was their first exposure to ‘The Simpsons’. At the time this was released, the show was just halfway through its second season in the US, and was only broadcast on satellite TV in the UK (I remember it coming to terrestrial TV, on Channel 4, much later in the mid-nineties). If so, the song’s success is quite remarkable, as I’m not sure it holds much enjoyment for someone who’s never seen the show.

Anyway, in this moment ‘The Simpsons’ was on the verge of becoming the biggest TV programme in the world. Between series three and ten it was untouchable, and a fixture in my own house every dinner time. They even managed a second Top 10 single, another hip-hop track (and actually much better than this) ‘Deep, Deep Trouble’. After that, the show came to a natural conclusion in the early 2000s, and is remembered as one of the best series ever, and as a lesson in how to go out on top. Right? No…?

653. ‘Unchained Melody’, by The Righteous Brothers

And so the slew of random re-releases, that have been peppering the number one slot since the late ‘80s, peaks here, towards the end of 1990. And I mean ‘peaks’ both in the sense that we’ve literally just waved a Steve Miller Band tune from 1973 off top spot, and in the sense that nothing can top this gilt-edged beauty of a love song.

Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers (their 2nd and final #1)

4 weeks, from 28th October – 25th November 1990

That’s not to say that ‘Unchained Melody’, in the hands of the Righteous Brothers, isn’t a preposterous, overblown nonsense of a record. It is completely over-the-top, the sort of display of affection that would put most women off a man were he to belt it out ‘neath her window of an evening. How does a lonely river sigh, exactly…? And yet, it is irresistible.

Irresistible because of the vocal performance of Bobby Hatfield (who won the right to record it in a coin-toss with his Righteous partner Bill Medley). It’s spectacular singing all the way through, a true tour-de-force, that culminates in that outrageous note he hits in the final chorus. The strings swell, the percussion crashes, creating a tempest of emotion that will wash over even the most cynical of listener.

Irresistible, too, because it is so different to what has come before it. I’ve enjoyed the recent transition to dance, more than I thought I might, but it’s interesting to hear a big sixties beast cutting through the drum machines and the samples. And despite coming from long before the era of the power-ballad, ‘Unchained Melody’ can compete with contemporary classics like ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ and ‘Show Me Heaven’ in the chest-thumping melodrama stakes. In fact, could the case be made for this being the very first ‘power ballad’?

It found itself back in the charts thanks to its use in the movie ‘Ghost’, in a famous sex scene involving Patrick Swayze and a pottery wheel (I’ve never seen the film, and don’t intend to, so don’t try to persuade me that this isn’t what happens…) The Brothers did a re-record, which charted in the US, but it was their original that took off again in Britain (it had previously made #14 in 1965). It means that the duo have a twenty-five year gap between their two #1s – beating The Hollies’ previous record of twenty-three years – and that ‘Unchained Melody’ itself has a huge thirty five year span since Jimmy Young took his version to the top in 1955.

Young’s version is half the song that this is, though it feels unfair to judge him against what has since become a standard. A standard that, sadly, subsequent singers have felt the need to compare themselves against. ‘Unchained Melody’ has two further, Righteous Brothers aping versions to come atop the charts… And this also increases the irresistibility of this version: the depths that I know the song will be brought down to.

This record cemented itself as the peak of the re-release era by becoming the highest-selling single of the year. Folks lapped it up (‘Ghost’ was, for a spell, the highest-grossing film of all time in the UK), though I’d say it’s now moved into the realms of cliché, thanks no doubt to the subsequent karaoke cover versions, to the point that any use in a movie today would be done with tongue firmly in cheek.

Before I go, I have to give a shout out to the one version that can compete with the Righteous Brothers’: Elvis’s. It was used to great effect in the recent film biopic (that I thought was OK, but nowhere near as good as some said), and when they spliced it with the famous footage of him singing it a few weeks before his death… Well some dust just went and got in my eye, didn’t it?

651. ‘Show Me Heaven’, by Maria McKee

It’s been a while – a whole six months at least. Time for a power ballad!

Show Me Heaven, by Maria McKee (her 1st and only #1)

4 weeks, from 23rd September – 21st October 1990

I love the opening chords, like a wheezy accordion played by the fireside. I also like Maria McKee’s sultry voice, as if she’s just inhaled a lungful of smoke from said campfire. But most of all I love the bridge, a real gear-shift before the thumping chorus: I’m not denying, We’re flying above it all… I’ve never felt this way!

Then the chorus takes a surprising turn. Yes, the vocals are big and the sentiment overwrought: Show me heaven… Leave me breathless… etc. But under that there’s a folky edge to it, with what sound like banjos being lightly plucked. It’s a post-Enya power ballad, perhaps, with a new-age influence being felt in the background. It’s not much, but might I make the same bold claim I seem to make every couple of chart-years, that guitars are making a comeback…?

My favourite bit, though, is the middle eight: If you know what it’s like, To dream a dream… McKee breathes, before embarking on one of the most impressive ten seconds of singing we’ve ever heard in a number one single. I’m pretty sure she does it all in one breath, unless a more trained ear than mine can hear when she sneaks a gulp of air.

From there this most classy of ballads glides to a finish. As the eighties become the nineties, the power ballads are just going to get glossier. But ‘Show Me Heaven’ melds all the OTT fist clenching that we expect – nay, need – from a power-ballad, with genuine credibility and grit. 1990 has already given us ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’, and this provides that record with some proper competition in the ‘ultimate power ballad’ stakes.

It probably helped that Maria McKee was an accomplished songwriter. who refused to record the song unless she could rewrite some of the original version’s ‘appalling’ (her words) lyrics. She already has one writing credit on a number one – Feargal Sharkey’s ‘A Good Heart’ – and had been the lead singer of country rock (or ‘cowpunk’, according to Wiki, which is amazing) band Lone Justice. None of her subsequent hits came anywhere near to matching her only #1; but she seems to be a free spirit, doing whatever she pleases, be it recording music, making short films, or writing fiction.

‘Show Me Heaven’ featured on the soundtrack to the Tom Cruise-Nicole Kidman, NASCAR racing film ‘Days of Thunder’ (Cruise and Kidman met on set, and were married barely a year later.) This makes it the second song from a Tom Cruise movie to make #1, after ‘Take My Breath Away’ (sadly ‘Kokomo’ couldn’t replicate it’s US success on British shores…) And, lest we forget, Nicky Kidman has her own chart-topping moment in the sun to come…

648. ‘Turtle Power’, by Partners in Kryme

Cowabunga! God, I used to love the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles. (Not, note, the Ninja Turtles, as the word ‘ninja’ apparently had too many violent connotations for UK audiences). Strangely, though, I was completely unaware of this song. Maybe because it was from the soundtrack to the Turtle’s first live-action movie, which I’ve never seen, rather than the far superior animated TV series.

Turtle Power, by Partners in Kryme (their 1st and only #1)

4 weeks, from 22nd July – 19th August 1990

Still, I was expecting this to be a remake of the classic theme tune (Heroes in a half-shell, Turtle Power!) I was also fully expecting it to be terrible. But… It’s neither of those things. It’s an actually quite funky rap track, with a new jack swing beat and creepy organs. It sounds a little, bear with me, like Dr Dre covering ‘The Monster Mash’.

The verses tell the story of the Turtles, and how they came to be. Splinter’s the teacher, Shredder the bad guy, while April O’Neil’s the reporter. (Partners in Kryme were clearly given a remit to mention every character at least once.) It also has to set up the movie: The crime wave is high with mugging mysterious, All police and detectives are furious, ‘Cause they can’t find the source, Of this lethally evil force… Plus one stanza is given over to ‘believe in yourself kids’ motivation: So when you’re in trouble don’t give in and turn sour, Try to rely on your, Turtle Power…

According to some sources, this is the very first hip-hop track to make #1 in the UK. I’m not sure that New Edition would agree with that, or Snap!, or Soul II Soul, or John Barnes. But I get the point: those acts had elements of it in their hit singles; this is pure hip-hop. Which means that when rap properly debuts atop the British charts, it arrives spitting rhymes like: Pizza’s the food that’s sure to please, These ninjas are into pepperoni and cheese…

I genuinely expected to hate this. But I don’t. The kid in me enjoys the heavily vocodered chorus: T-U-R-T-L-E power…, and then there’s also the nostalgia factor of it being from one of my favourite childhood cartoons. Lyrics aside, I think this might genuinely hold up, in a way that not all early rap does. Partners in Kryme were a duo from New York, made up of DJ Keymaster Snow and MC Golden Voice. I’m not sure if they were formed for this record; but they had no other hits, before or after, making them a classic one-hit wonder. (The ‘Kryme’ in their name stands for Keep Rhythm Your Motivating Element. Which is catchy.)

Whether or not this really was the first hip-hop chart-topper, 1990 was certainly the year it went mainstream. Snap!, John Barnes’ rap, as already mentioned, plus this, and a skinny, Queen-sampling white guy coming up very soon. It’s certainly going mainstream, but it’s still largely seen as a novelty. We’ll have to wait a while for a ‘serious’ rap #1, but when the time does come there’ll be no looking back for hip-hop as chart-topping force.