After Tony Di Bart and Stiltskin, we smash one in at the near post to complete a hattrick of long-forgotten number ones…
Come On You Reds, by The Manchester United Football Squad (their 1st and only #1)
2 weeks, from 15th – 29th May 1994
A song featuring Britain’s most popular football team, and one of our longest-lasting rock acts, shouldn’t necessarily be consigned to the history books. And yet we’re probably all glad that this record never became as ubiquitous as some football songs. Because, even against the low bar set by most singing footballers, it’s pretty crap.
All the classic tropes are there. Piped-in crowd noises, commentary clips (‘Which number one single features Jonathon Pearce?’ would make a great pub quiz question), athletes looking far outside their comfort zones sharing a microphone in the video, lyrics that were probably scribbled out on the back of a beer mat: Come on you reds, Come on you reds, Just keep your bottle and use your heads… One verse, in fact, is literally just the team sheet: Robson, Kanchelskis and Giggs…
But away from all that, this is actually a fairly interesting number one. It is, to start with, Status Quo’s lost chart-topper. The records show that they have just the one – 1975’s ‘Down, Down’ – but this record was written and produced by the band, and is based on their 1988 hit ‘Burning Bridges’ (the ‘jig’ portion of which was in turn based on an old folk song called ‘Darby Kelly’). That isn’t one of my favourite Quo songs; but one of the few things that could have redeemed this tripe was if they had received a credit on the sleeve.
In footballing terms, it’s also a bit of a time capsule. It was released in advance of Utd’s FA Cup final against Chelsea (who released their own record for the game, making #23), and the idea that reaching the FA Cup final would merit a song seems bizarre in the modern football world. In fact, teams don’t record songs any more. No modern Premier League player would be seen dead singing along to cheesy lyrics written by some crusty old rockers. Which is both a slightly sad thing, and a great relief.
There have of course been two football number ones before this (‘Back Home’ and ‘World in Motion’) and a few more to come. But they are all songs about England, released ahead of World Cups and European Championships, with a whole country ready and willing to buy the record. ‘Come on You Reds’ is the only #1 by a club side, and they followed it up with two #6 hits for the ’95 and ’96 finals. Yes, not only did Man Utd dominate football in the nineties, they dominated the charts. No wonder we all hate them…
In case anyone is interested, the next biggest football club hits are Chelsea’s ‘Blue Is the Colour’ (#5 in 1972), Spurs’ ‘Ossie’s Dream’ (#5 in 1981), and Liverpool’s legendary ‘Anfield Rap’ (#3 in 1988). Back in the charts of 1994 though, and I’d have to say that the spring of this year has thrown up a run of fairly flash-in-the-pan, forgotten hits: ‘Doop’, ‘The Real Thing’, ‘Inside’, and now this. Up next, however, is a song that stayed at the top so long we had no choice but to remember every note…
(This video sadly cuts the last thirty seconds off the song… But you’ll have gotten the gist by then… It also features footage of the 1994 FA Cup final, suggesting it was produced after the record had made #1.)
In my previous post, I wrote that Tony Di Bart’s ‘The Real Thing’ must have been the most recent #1 that I’d never previously heard. Well, the very next chart-topper is probably just as forgotten…
Inside, by Stiltskin (their 1st and only #1)
1 week, from 8th – 15th May 1994
Luckily, though, my dad once owned a ‘Best Rock Album Ever…’ sort of compilation released sometime around 1994. In amongst all the Free, the Boston, and the Blue Oyster Cult, the compilers had clearly felt the need for something more contemporary. What better track to include, then, than that year’s big rock hit: Stiltskin’s ‘Inside’. Which means that this lumpy, grungy, one-hit wonder takes me right back to my childhood.
This should be a pretty cool moment for chart watchers. Grunge was the sound of the early-nineties, though it had never troubled the top of the charts until now. (By May ’94, the genre was on its last legs, Kurt Cobain having died just a month earlier…) Anyway, this is a very heavy, very sweaty, very hairy number one single, the hardest rocking since Iron Maiden brought our daughters to the slaughter. Listening to it now, for the first time in two decades, the chorus is a classic of the genre.
But it also feels a little like Grunge-by-AI. Listen and you can hear rip-offs of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ in the quiet-loud chorus, and ‘Black Hole Sun’ in the two chiming notes during the verses. I swear to God there’s something by Pearl Jam buried in there, too, though I can’t quite root it out. People online have compared it to ‘Today’ by Smashing Pumpkins, but I don’t personally hear it. Basically, the songwriters have taken elements of the best grunge bands, smushed them up, and made a pretty decent song.
The lyrics are apparently based on Plato’s ‘allegory of the cave’, making this potentially the first UK #1 to reference the ancient Greek philosopher. To my ears, though, it sounds like the worst sort of Year 9 poetry: Strong words in a Ganges sky, I have to lie, Shadows move in pairs… culminating in the motivational slogan: If you believe it, Don’t keep it all inside… (To be fair, I was a fan of the fat man starts to fall line as a kid…)
‘Inside’ also loses a few more street-cred points from the fact that the song was written to order for a Levi’s jeans commercial (making this the fourth number one to come from a Levi’s ad, though the first that isn’t a re-release of an older track). A man called Peter Lawler wrote the song, and plays all the instruments on this recording. He needed a vocalist, and after some auditions found Ray Wilson, a Scottish singer/guitarist. This first incarnation of the band released only one album, and two more low-charting singles, but they reformed and have carried on to this day, in an ever-changing line-up with Wilson as the only constant. (He also spent four years as lead-singer for Genesis, replacing Phil Collins.)
‘Inside’ was probably fortunate to find itself on a compilation called ‘Best Rock Album Ever’ – right place, right time – and is similarly fortunate to hold the title of the UK’s sole grunge chart-topper. But variety is the spice of life, and I’m glad it sneaked its week at number one. Sadly, the fate that confirms once and for all if a record has been lost to the mists of time has indeed befallen ‘Inside’… It’s not on Spotify.
Well, I didn’t expect this. To get to May 1994 and come across a number one hit I have genuinely never heard before…
The Real Thing, by Tony Di Bart (his 1st and only #1)
1 week, from 1st – 8th May 1994
This record both is, and isn’t, your average mid-nineties dance tune. It’s a banger, all throbbing synths and a bassline that goes right through you, but it’s main references aren’t techno, or Eurodance. It looks back to the house tunes of the late-eighties – meaning it probably qualifies as retro already – and in the beat and the piano chords it nods even further back, to the days of disco.
It’s a slow-build sort of song. I was about to write it off as bland on first listen, but on my second I heard a hook buried in the melancholy chords, and by the third listen I was intrigued. There’s something there. Despite its retro influences, it feels very modern. If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody baby… Most dance hits in the mid-nineties were euphoric, in-your-face – the likes of 2 Unlimited and Snap! springing to mind. ‘Dancing through the tears’ is a very 21st century concept, popularised by acts like Robyn, and The Weeknd. The latter of whom I bring up, because Tony Di Bart sounds remarkably like Abel Tesfaye, with his falsetto, and the longing in his voice.
The man known as The Weeknd counting Tony Di Bart as an influence seems unlikely, given that ‘The Real Thing’ was the only Top 20, and one of only two Top 40 hits, Di Bart managed. Neither of which did very much in North America. This single hadn’t done much initially in the UK either, when it was released in November 1993. It took a remix to send it up the charts, and that’s why I haven’t attached a video below: none seems to have been made for the much more atmospheric remix. (Listen to the original version here.)
As Italian as Antonio Carmine Di Bartolomeo AKA Tony Di Bart sounds, he was actually from Slough. His Wikipedia page is sparse, with few details given as to how he went from selling bathrooms to the top of the charts. His post-fame entries make for sad reading: one of his more recent public appearances was at a village fête in Buckinghamshire, before he was arrested and pleaded guilty to assaulting a police officer earlier this year.
Still, assault charges or no assault charges, you can’t take away the fact that Tony Di Bart has a number one single. One that is actually quite good, the more you listen and get lost in its wistful synths. Up next, an equally forgotten one-week wonder…
The list of superstar artists with underwhelming singles chart records is long, and complex. There’s Led Zeppelin, who simply didn’t bother releasing them. There’s Chuck Berry, whose ding-a-ling made number one two decades after he’d helped invent rock and roll. There’s Stevie Wonder, whose two chart-toppers don’t begin to do his talent justice…
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World, by Prince (his 1st and only #1)
2 weeks, from 17th April – 1st May 1994
Then there’s Prince – the star with possibly the biggest disparity between talent and number one hits. Not that he has a terrible overall chart record in the UK: seventeen Top 10 hits is nothing to be sniffed at. But only this one chart-topper (the 2nd biggest hit of his long career, apparently…)
And I’m just going to come out and say it… For ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’ to be Prince’s only #1 is as big a travesty as ‘My Ding-A-Ling’. It might even be bigger. At least Berry’s novelty is dumb fun. This is syrupy, over-produced tripe, with some queasy lyrics… It’s plain to see, You’re the reason that God made a girl… The fact that the song debuted on the 1994 Miss USA pageant speaks volumes.
As I listen, all I can think of is all the brilliant Prince tunes that came and went without making #1… And not only is this dull, it’s disappointingly chaste. This from a man who recorded songs like ‘Soft and Wet’, ‘Cream’, and ‘Sexy MF’. There’s a spoken-word portion, as in all the worst love songs, in which Prince semi-raps: And if the stars ever fell, One by one from the sky…
It leads on to the most enjoyable bit of the song though, in which Prince provides his own backing vocals in a deep voice before launching back into his more famous falsetto. The song’s odd sound effects – tears dripping, clocks ticking, birds twittering – are interesting too. These moments are where we come closest to the fun, creative-chameleon Prince, who’s sorely missing from the rest of this sludge.
Of course, ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’ isn’t technically a ‘Prince’ song. It came at the start of his ‘Love Symbol’ period, AKA the time he was known as ‘The Artist Formerly Known as Prince’, as part of a rebellion against his Warner Brothers contract. He felt they were holding him back, insisting that he chill out and release albums more sporadically. Interestingly, this single – one of his most successful – was released on a small, independent label, rather than Warner Bros. The corresponding album didn’t see the light of day for another year and a half, and is still involved in a lawsuit over plagiarism involving ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’ and an Italian song called ‘Takin’ Me to Paradise’.
Prince does already have two other chart-toppers to his name as a songwriter. Two classics: Chaka Khan’s ‘I Feel for You’ and Sinead O’Connor’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’. And of course there’s ‘Purple Rain’, ‘When Doves Cry’, ‘Kiss’… So many that I might have to do a post on Prince’s nearly-number-ones. All these hits kick this one into the long grass… And yet. The charts often don’t play nice…
For their fourth #1 in nine months, Take That once again take turns at lead-vocal duty. We’ve had two Garys, one from Mark, and now a Robbie…
Everything Changes, by Take That (their 4th of twelve #1s)
2 weeks, from 3rd – 17th April 1994
Which gives a fairly throwaway pop song, a chart-topper more because of the band singing it than because of any innate quality the song might have, some significance. For here is the voice of the biggest British star of the coming decade… Though you might not have realised it at first, given the strange American accent he puts on for the album version’s intro…
On the single edit that bit is cut out, and we are rushed straight into another disco-tinged piece of retro-pop; the skinnier, sickly brother of ‘Relight My Fire’. I did wonder if ‘Everything Changes’ might have been a cover, as nobody under the age of sixty has ever used the term ‘taxicab’, but no – it’s a Gary Barlow (plus guests) writing credit. I guess they just needed the extra syllable to make it scan…
It’s perfectly serviceable pop. There’s nothing wrong with it (if we overlook the dated sax solo…) but neither is there much particularly memorable about it, apart perhaps from the for-ev-er… hook. There’s a reason why it was the fifth and final single from the band’s second album. There’s also a reason why it still made number one for a fortnight despite everyone already owning a copy of said album: Take That were bloody huge by this point.
While it might not have been his first lead vocals on a Take That single (I have little inclination to go back through their discography and check) it was definitely Robbie Williams’ first lead vocals on a #1. On their previous three, he very much took a back-seat. It felt strange to see him dancing gamely behind Barlow and Owen, knowing that he would go on to be bigger than any of them. But then, at the time, his departure was unexpected, and nobody would have bet on him having the success that he did.
Anyway, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. They’ve got a few more hits, and a few more chart-toppers, before he strikes out alone. And of the Take That #1s that have gone before, I’m starting to think I was a bit harsh on ‘Pray’… It’s head and shoulders above their other chart-toppers so far – as fun as ‘Relight My Fire’ was, and as strange as ‘Babe’ was. Quite possibly one of their very best…?
And now for something a little different… Eurodance meets the Charleston.
Doop, by Doop (their 1st and only #1)
3 weeks, from 13th March – 3rd April 1994
More impressively, Eurodance meets the Charleston, and the results aren’t a complete disaster. ‘Doop’s merging of wildly disparate musical eras works. It’s fast, catchy, and fun – a novelty for sure, but not too irritating. It works its way right into your brain, thanks to its frenetic pace and puppy dog energy, and stays there…
It’s a completely instrumental track, apart from the doopy-doopy-do-do-doos which give the song its name. It’s the last instrumental number one since… I’m not sure, to be honest, but it’s been a good while. It’s also probably one of the last, as they’ve become rarer and rarer since their heyday in the late fifties-early sixties.
There’s not much to it – a big band sample stretched out over a techno beat. With the aforementioned doops, of course. The most complex thing about this record is how many remixes there were, and working out which one was actually getting airplay at the time. They all have a varying techno-to-Charleston ratio. The ‘Official Video’ on YouTube is the most modern, a dance beat interspersed with trumpet blasts. I prefer the more big band-heavy versions, such as the Sidney Berlin Ragtime Band mix, from the Maxi-CD release, or the Urge-2-Merge radio edit.
The best mixes are also the ones that keep proceedings down to the three-minute mark for, as fun as this tune is, it can get a little repetitive when stretched over seven minutes. Short and sweet is the order of the day here. Doop were, you’ll be shocked to realise, from the Netherlands, the one country that can rival masters Germany for Europop cheese. And let’s be honest, giving your debut single the same name as your band (or vice-versa) suggests that you’re quite happy in aiming for one-hit wonder status.
In fairness, Doop did manage a #88 follow-up hit with ‘Huckleberry Jam’, in which they tried the same trick using an old blues riff, while an earlier incarnation of the group, Hocus Pocus, made #1 in Australia with a song called ‘Here’s Johnny!’ Really though, this is real one-hit wonder stuff: a flash in the pan, bottled lightning moment, and I’m not sure this track has been played on the radio for years.
It was a trend-setter of sorts, though. I can’t think of many dance tracks that sampled pre-rock and roll music before Doop, but I can think of a few that came afterwards, including at least a couple of number ones. Anyway, I like it, as throwaway as it is. The NME disagree, though, naming it among their ‘25 most annoying songs ever’… Which seems rich given some of the crap they’ve championed over the years.
Mariah Carey, one of the biggest-selling stars of the 1990s, is very poorly served in terms of the UK number ones she scored in that decade. Just the one, in fact. This one.
Without You, by Mariah Carey (her 1st of four #1s)
4 weeks, from 13th February – 13th March 1994
And I have to say, as much as I have a soft spot for ‘Mariah’ the camp icon – the ‘Cribs’ appearance, the ‘I don’t know her’ meme, all that nonsense – the fact that she didn’t dominate the British charts in the same way she took over the Billboard Hot 100 can only be a good thing. Yes, she can sing. No question. She takes Nilsson’s 1972 #1, and sings the absolute bejeezus out of it.
At one point, towards the end of this track, she extends the I can’t give any more… line for a full sixteen seconds, in a display of aggressive melisma. I can barely hold my breath for sixteen seconds, let alone belt out a succession of different musical notes for that length of time, and in purely technical terms it is very impressive. And yet, it’s these sorts of vocal gymnastics that ruin the song.
The same charges that were laid out against Whitney Houston as she whooped and hollered her way through ‘One Moment in Time’ and ‘I Will Always Love You’, can be made against Mariah here. Technically good singing will only get you so far, if you don’t mean what you’re howling about. Not in every song – plenty of decent pop songs can be churned out half-arsed – but in a torch song like this, with such a heartfelt original to compare it to, the difference shows. (Nilsson’s version, of course, wasn’t the original, but it is the version to which everyone compared Carey’s.)
Another comparison I can make between Mariah and Whitney is that I’ve always enjoyed Carey’s poppier moments more than her monster ballads. ‘Fantasy’, ‘Dreamlover’ and ‘Heartbreaker’ are all solid nineties pop tunes. What we also have to take into account, before complaining about her endless stream of ballads, is that she was tied in to a pretty controlling contract, and a pretty nasty relationship, with her manager Tommy Mottola.
I was under the impression that Harry Nilsson had died when this cover of his most famous hit was at #1, and was going to make a cheap joke about his cause of death. Except he had died a month before, in January 1994, at the very young age of fifty-two. I assume that Carey’s cover was already recorded by then, and wasn’t intended as a tribute, even if it did in the end become one. She had already had eight chart-toppers in the US, though ‘Without You’ stalled at #3 over there.
Younger readers may be surprised to discover that Mariah Carey actually had a recording career beyond a certain Christmas song, the name of which I dare not type out in case I accidentally get it stuck in my head. In truly shameless Mariah fashion, she’s really lent into her ‘Queen of Christmas’ alter-ego in recent years and, even as I sit here in late October, I’m counting down the days until her annual assault on the charts, and on our ears…
There’s a niche category of number one singles, one I’m going to name ‘much loved chart-toppers that I don’t really get’ (catchy, isn’t it?) Our next #1 belongs to this category…
Things Can Only Get Better, by D:Ream (their 1st and only #1)
4 weeks, from 16th January – 13th February 1994
I don’t dislike ‘Things Can Only Get Better’; I just don’t quite see why people love it. I think the problem is the intro, the overwrought vocals and weighty piano chords gradually building, very slowly getting to the point. Is this a gospel track? A spiritual? No, it’s just a dance tune, and once the synths and the funky bassline come in, and you know where you stand, things improve.
I have a deep suspicion for songs that could be described as ‘motivational’, which is probably where my issues with this tune lie. ‘Motivational’ means ‘uplifting’, and the next step on the ladder from that is ‘spiritual’, or ‘religious’, and I’m someone who believes very strongly in the separation of church and pop. It’s not just this song – there is a strain of thought (or clever marketing) that positions dance music as a sort of religion, with nightclubs as churches, and the Ministry of Sound as some sort of Holy Father… Religious ecstasy taking on a new meaning in this case…
But then I sit down, and properly listen to the lyrics to ‘Things Can Only Get Better’, and wonder if they aren’t to do with accepting who you are, and holding your head up through scorn and insult… Burn the bridges as you’ve gone, I’m too weak to fight you, I’ve got my personal hell to deal with… Maybe it even alludes to those with AIDS (I must learn to live with this disease…), and I’m starting to feel bad for writing this song off as mindless motivational nonsense.
My favourite part of the song is the ending (and I don’t mean that sarcastically) as the entire song deconstructs, the horn riff goes wonky, and the lyrics taper off. I still don’t love it, but I think I’m beginning to appreciate it a little more. I can see it as a musical sibling of Yazz’s ‘The Only Way Is Up’, which is every bit as positive, but doesn’t quite wear its heart on its sleeve like this one.
D:Ream were the brainchild of Peter Cunnah, a Northern Irish singer-songwriter, who sings the vocals on this track. He sounds a bit like George Michael, actually – one moment light and airy, the next hitting a throaty growl. The other members changed fairly regularly, but one of their more famous alumni is the now TV-scientist Brian Cox, who famously played keyboards when the band performed ‘Things…’ on Top of the Pops.
This was their first big hit, but D:Ream had been plugging away for a few years before breaking through. This track had been released a year earlier, making #24, but its popularity in the clubs kept growing, leading to this re-release. In many ways, this is one of the chart-toppers that sum up the mid-to-late nineties: Britpop, Cool Britannia, Noel’s union jack guitar, Geri’s dress, all that razzamatazz. It was used as a campaign song by the great political hope of the age, New Labour, as they swept to victory in the 1997 general election. It all seems like a very long time ago, now…
To mark the release of the Stones’ 24th studio album, and their first original recording in almost two decades, let’s delve back into their long chart career, and explore the hits that didn’t make number one.
Over the course of the 1960s, the band scored eight chart toppers, from ‘It’s All Over Now’ in ’64 to ‘Honky Tonk Women’ in ’69. But they didn’t stop when the sixties ended. No, as you may be aware, they kept going. And going. Kept on rolling on. Impressively, their recent comeback single, ‘Angry’, made #34 in the UK, their first Top 40 hit since 2005. But that won’t quite make this list of their ten biggest non-chart toppers. In ascending order, then…
‘Start Me Up’, reached #7 in 1981
The Stones at their Stonesiest. A killer riff, some smutty lyrics, and Mick doing his best Jane Fonda impression in the video. It’s an impressive feat, releasing one of your signature songs two decades into your career. But it also somewhat marked the end of the band as a chart concern – it remains their final UK Top 10 hit – and the start of The Stones TM: the mega-touring, jukebox musical that the band have been for the last forty years. ‘Tattoo You’, the album from which it came, is seen by many as the band’s last great LP, too.
‘Fool to Cry’, reached #6 in 1976
Perhaps the one thing lacking from the Stones’ back-catalogue is a big ballad. (Ok, the next song on the list proves that statement completely wrong…) Anyway, ‘Fool to Cry’ comes close to being that ballad. A slow, bluesy number that takes its time, lingering on some wonderful falsetto notes from Mick. In the first verse he’s feeling low, so he puts his daughter on his knee, and she tells him Daddy, You’re a fool to cry… A bit too sentimental for the Stones? Not to worry, in verse two Mick goes to his mistress, who lives in a po’ part of town… And she says the exact same thing. Much more like it!
‘Angie’, reached #5 in 1973
Of course, if the Stones do have a big ballad, then it’s this one. There was some discussion as to who ‘Angie’ was: David Bowie’s wife, Keith Richard’s daughter, or the actress Angie Dickinson. Whoever it’s about, it’s a beautiful love song, with Jagger’s slurred singing giving the impression that he’s had a shot or two of Dutch courage before suggesting he and Angie call it a day.
‘Tumbling Dice’, reached #5 in 1972
I called ‘Start Me Up’ the Stones at their Stonesiest, but actually… This is the band at the peak of the powers. The lead single from what is widely regarded as their best album (though I’d go for the clean and concise ‘Sticky Fingers’ over the rambling ‘Exile…’) ‘Tumbling Dice’ might be the coolest piece of rock music ever recorded – that boogie-woogie rhythm, Keef’s lazy riff, Charlie’s drums bringing up the rear, the lyrics about being rank outsiders and partners in crime.. To be honest, until watching the lyric video above I had no idea what 90% of the words to ‘Tumbling Dice’ were. But does it matter? Nah. This one’s all about the groove, the attitude, about being the best freakin’ rock and roll band in the world.
‘Have You Seen Your Mother Baby, Standing in the Shadow?’, reached #5 in 1966
It’s easy now, with them in their eighties, to be blasé about how dangerous the Rolling Stones must have seemed in the 1960s. But this mid-decade hit, that begins and ends in a hail of feedback, with ambiguous lyrics that could be about a girl on the streets, taking drugs, or affairs with people’s mothers, proves that they were mad, bad, and dangerous to know… The memorable horn riff is a sign of the direction that the band would take as the sixties progressed. And just to make sure they got some more attention, the band dragged up for the record sleeve. Lock up your daughters, indeed…
‘Miss You’, reached #3 in 1978
A trio of number threes, now. In the late seventies anybody who was anybody had to try out a disco groove and the Stones were no different, in what was seen as a huge departure for them. The band disagree over whether or not it was originally intended as a disco song – Jagger and Wood say no, Richards says yes – but it certainly ended up as one. (There was an even more disco influenced remix released as a 12″.) Meanwhile, Bill Wyman, whose brilliant bassline holds the whole thing together, has claimed he should have had a writing credit. ‘Miss You’ was their last Billboard #1, and their last UK Top 5 hit.
‘Let’s Spend the Night Together’, reached #3 in 1967
It’s funny – this is one of the Stones’ poppier numbers, and yet one of their most controversial. It’s piano and organ driven, seemingly influenced more by Motown and male vocal groups than the band’s normal R&B touchstones. But lyrics like I’ll satisfy your every need, And now I know you’ll satisfy me… were bound to get folks’ knickers in a twist. Radio stations banned it, and Ed Sullivan insisted that the chorus be changed to ‘let’s spend some time together’, an insistence that the band complied with (though Jagger’s theatrical eye-roll meant they weren’t invited back for a while). In some regions it was twinned with ‘Ruby Tuesday’, though the official records don’t list it as a double-‘A’ in the UK.
‘Not Fade Away’, reached #3 in 1964
Where it all began (almost). This Buddy Holly cover was their 3rd single, and their first Top 10 hit. It’s a lot faster, and beefier, than the original, with a touch of the fuzzy, sloppy sounds of the Rolling Stones in their prime, and Brian Jones’ harmonica acting as lead instrument. It came out in early 1964, right at the start of the British Invasion, when bands like The Beatles and the Stones wore their American rock ‘n’ roll influences loud and proud. It serves almost as a timeline of rock’s rapid development through the fifties and sixties: the Stones covering a Buddy Holly hit, which he’d based on the Bo Diddley riff, which in turn goes all the way back to the dawn of the blues.
‘Brown Sugar’ / ‘Bitch’, reached #2 in 1971
Another all-time Stones classic, this time from ‘Sticky Fingers’, with a great riff, a filthy sax solo, and some famously questionable lyrics. For many years I never paid much attention to the nitty-gritty of the song’s subject matter, because it was such an absolute rocker. But then you actually sit down and read the lyrics about slave ships and whipping women at midnight, and wonder if the song is looking at the matter critically, or just celebrating it. Then again, shouldn’t rock ‘n’ roll be provocative? And they’re far from being the Stones’ worst lyrics (‘Under My Thumb’ and ‘Some Girls’ say ‘Hi’…) As if they knew this song would court controversy, they paired it with a more subtle, reflective number, which they called ‘Bitch’… Some countries also list the record as a triple ‘A’-side, with a live cover of Chuck Berry’s ‘Let It Rock’ as the third track.
’19th Nervous Breakdown’, reached #2 in 1966
Come to think of it, the Stones’ other number two hit is hardly the most sympathetic towards women (Oh who’s to blame, That girl’s just insane…) Lost a little amongst their biggest ’60s hits, ’19th Nervous Breakdown’ is the Stones at their snottiest. The Kinks are always cast as the decade’s social commentators, but songs like this (alongside ‘Satisfaction’, and ‘Mother’s Little Helper’) are just as biting satire. It tells the story of a flighty society girl, running around, getting on everyone’s nerves, always on the verge of yet another breakdown… Though we’re left to ponder how much of that is down to her terrible choice in men. The highlight here is Bill Wyman’s ‘divebombing’ bass in the fade-out…
I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! Back on with the regular countdown next week. Meanwhile, I’m off to give ‘Hackney Diamonds’ a listen…
The 700th UK number one single. My word, haven’t we come far! Not only that, it’s the first #1 of 1994 – officially the mid-90s. Bring. It. On!
Twist and Shout, by Chaka Demus & Pliers with Jack Radics & Taxi Gang (their 1st and only #1s)
2 weeks, from 2nd – 16th January 1994
And it’s pretty fitting that this landmark chart-topper is a reggae song. For all the dance tunes, boyband pop, and the Britpop hits yet to come, I’ve already made the argument that reggae was the sound of 1993-5. And what I like about this, as with Shaggy’s ‘Oh Carolina’, is that it’s pretty uncompromising reggae. This isn’t dub, as heard recently from Ace of Base or UB40; it’s a proper sweaty dancehall track.
‘Twist and Shout’ is a fairly well known tune, mostly in the frantic version the Beatles’ released on their debut album, featuring a famous vocal performance from John Lennon. And so you could be forgiven for wondering if we really needed a reggae version. We definitely do, though. As with all the best cover versions, Chaka Demus and Pliers (a Jamaican DJ and singer) turn it into a completely different song.
The bare bones are still there: the chorus and, most importantly, the ascending aaahs that lead us to it. But beyond that there’s lots of toasting and rapping that neither Lennon, nor the Isley Brothers (who first had a hit with ‘Twist and Shout’ in 1962), could have imagined. Get up and move your body… One time… Pliers sings… Ooh man you drivin’ me crazy… The purists may have frowned, but I think it’s charming, and a lot of fun.
You couldn’t have picked a less likely time of year for this to be a hit, with it reaching the top the day after New Year’s. But we all need a bit of tropical escapism, don’t we, especially in a miserable British January? Plus, Chaka Demus & Pliers had already made the Top 5 twice in 1993 (tease me, tease me… till I lose control…) and this cemented them as Britain’s favourite reggae act.
For the recording, they roped in Jack Radics, who I believe is the gruffer voice you hear on the chorus, and Taxi Gang, a rhythm section associated with Jamaican music legends Sly & Robbie. This gives the song’s credits a very modern look, with four different artists attributed (I think this might have been a record at the time). It was Chaka Demus and Plier’s last big hit in the UK, though they would carry on until 1997, and still get together every now and again.
Every time we reach a century of #1s, it’s always good to take stock. Do they tell us anything about the styles of the time…? Well, in this case, yes. Reggae was enjoying a big resurgence in the charts. It’s certainly more relevant than the 500th #1 (Eurovision cheese from Nicole), or the 400th (Julie Covington’s ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’). The most ‘of its time’, though, remains the 200th: the Beatles’ ‘Help’.
The UK Number Ones Blog 