688. ‘Five Live E.P.’, by George Michael & Queen with Lisa Stansfield

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I have to admit my heart sinks each time I see an EP coming along. It’s hard enough writing about double-‘A’s (in fact, it can be hard writing about some of the standalone number ones…), but when it’s four songs to get through? Cancel my three o’clock…

Five Live E.P., by George Michael (his 5th of seven #1s) & Queen (their 5th of six #1s) with Lisa Stansfield (her 2nd and final #1)

3 weeks, from 25th April – 16th May 1993

Luckily for me, the final EP to top the British singles chart has five whole tracks to get through! Five live tracks (hence the name) by George Michael, with assistance from Queen on two of them, and Lisa Stansfield on one. Let’s not tackle them in order, but take the two Queen covers first, recorded at the famous Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert a year earlier.

First up, George has a good old crack at ‘Somebody to Love’. It’s a thankless task, trying to do Freddie Mercury, singing one of his signature songs. But GM gives it a bloody good go. It might be the most impressive vocal performance of all seven of his solo #1s, especially given that it was recorded live. It’s a straightforward cover, but a decent one. And it takes to number one a Queen song that should, like many of their post-Bo Rap singles, have got there first time around. One wonders if this was where Brian May got the idea to start touring again, eventually, with the likes of Paul Rodgers and Adam Lambert.

The other Queen cover is ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’, the track that had made #1 in the immediate wake of Mercury’s death. George is joined by Lisa Stansfield, who he welcomes on stage remarking that she hasn’t any hoover or curlers (presumably referring to her performance of ‘I Want to Break Free’ earlier that night, and not just being sexist…) Again it’s fine, excellently sung – particularly by Stansfield, who didn’t really get to show off her vocal chops on ‘All Around the World’. I don’t imagine it was easy going on stage with George Michael in full flow and holding your own, but she manages. Yet this track isn’t as enjoyable, because a) it was #1 barely a year before and b) it’s not as good as ‘Somebody to Love’ in the first place.

The three other tracks are George Michael solo efforts, recorded in March 1991, again at Wembley (from the same tour that gave us his ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’ duet with Elton John). According to the records, he covered both Adamski’s ‘Killer’ and The Temptations’ ‘Papa Was a Rolling Stone’, but both tracks are hard to, well, track down. Luckily on the British version of the EP he used a shortened, medley version, and again it’s… OK. You’d need a good ear to hear these tracks as a medley, but it works.

However, I refer you back to my comments on Michael’s earlier live #1: live versions being rarely better than the originals and, unless you were actually at the concert, the crowd noises are little more than a distraction. It’s like modern-day shaky camera phone footage, but better produced. Still it was for charity, which is always good, benefiting the Mercury Phoenix Trust, an AIDS fund set up by the remaining members of Queen, their manager Jim Beach, and Mercury’s former partner Mary Austin.

Did we need a fifth track though, making this the longest record to ever make #1 (a milestone that is now almost impossible to break)? Not really. This is where we tip into real self-indulgence, something that George Michael was always prone to, with a cover of ‘Calling You’, originally recorded by soul singer Jevetta Steele for the film ‘Bagdad Café’. I hadn’t heard of it, although the crowd’s reaction suggests that some of them had, at least. And in fairness it did win the Best Original Song Oscar for 1988. The vocals are amazing, from both George and his backing singers, especially again considering it was recorded live. But… It does go on. It unfolds at a snail’s pace, over five minutes. My patience is well and truly tried.

The history of EPs – longer than singles but shorter than LPs – on the UK singles chart is hard to pin down. In the sixties, their heyday, they sold very well and had their own chart. Between the 70s and 90s they fell out of fashion, but could chart alongside the singles. We’ve had three earlier EP #1s, from Erasure, The Specials and Demis Roussos. ‘Five Live’ was the last one to make the top, and maybe this sprawling beast of a record helped to kill them off. Nowadays the closest we’ve got to an EP is a Maxi-CD, or a digital bundle, but since the download/streaming era individual tracks can simply chart in their own right. The same fate has also befallen the double-‘A’ record, though we’ve still got a few more of them to come before then…

687. ‘Young at Heart’, by The Bluebells

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If we thought ‘Oh Carolina’ was an unpolished step away from the usual sounds of the early nineties, then what to make of this folksy jig…?

Young at Heart, by The Bluebells (their 1st and only #1)

4 weeks, from 28th March – 25th April 1993

We need to sound the ‘random re-release’ klaxon, one that has been honked fairly often during these past few chart years, for the success of this record was not completely organic. ‘Young at Heart’ was originally a #8 hit, in 1984, for Scottish jangle-pop act The Bluebells. It was their biggest hit, from the only studio album they released before disbanding in 1985. Fast-forward nearly a decade, and the song is being featured in a commercial for Volkswagen (not Levi’s, for once!)… Hey presto. Number one.

And aren’t we glad that it was! It’s distinctive, bordering on strange, and yet oh so catchy. Banjos, harmonicas, and most of all violins – the solo has to be one of the most ‘out there’ moments in a #1 for many a year – come together at the barn dance for a tale of young love: They married young, For love at last, Was their only crime…

It’s always hit me as a sort of ‘Come On Eileen’ Part II, both in terms of the Celtic sounds and the subject matter. Plus at its heart, despite all the country dressing, it has a pure pop bridge and a soaring chorus, which hint at an interesting origin story. I’ll let you in on a secret, one that raised my eyebrows when I found it out barely five minutes ago… The reason this song has such strong pop credentials is because it was written, and originally recorded by, Bananarama! I know, right…!

They recorded it for their debut album in 1983 – it was actually co-written by Siobhan Fahey (sort of giving her a second non-Bananarama number one) and the band’s guitarist Bobby Bluebell (not his real name) – and, if we’re honest, their version is fairly bland. In fact, The Bluebells’ take is a lesson in how to do a cover version right: changing the tone, the tempo, the genre, to the point where you’d have to be listening pretty closely to notice that they were the same song.

The Bluebells reformed especially for the TOTP performance brought about by the record’s unexpected success, and have continued to come back together on and off over the years. One of their former members is a lecturer in music business, while another is a golf correspondent for The Guardian.

Sadly, I make this the final ‘random re-release’ we’ll see, for a while at least. There are plenty more to come, especially in the 21st century, but this is the end of that golden spell in the late-eighties and early-nineties, when Ben E King, Jackie Wilson, The Clash, The Righteous Brothers, The Hollies and The Steve Miller Band all scored belated, sometimes posthumous, chart-toppers thanks to films, TV shows and, more often than not, adverts for Levi’s jeans. Let’s salute them, then, these random re-releases, for spicing up the charts, and breaking up all the SAW, the dance, and the movie soundtrack power ballads.

686. ‘Oh Carolina’, by Shaggy

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There’s so much to unpack with this next number one… How did this unknown Jamaican, who growls and slurs his way through his breakthrough smash, go on to become one of the longer-lasting hitmakers of the decade? Why did this summery smash, that sounds like its coming to you live from a beach bar in Montego Bay, make #1 in March? And just why is reggae the chart genre that refuses to die…?

Oh Carolina, by Shaggy (his 1st of four #1s)

2 weeks, from 14th – 28th March 1993

Let’s address that last question first. For this is the purest reggae, not the pop version of UB40, or the watered down offering of Boris Gardner. It’s ragga, its dancehall; it’s rough and grimy, so much so that you almost have to wipe the sweat from the stereo after playing it. It’s a cover of an old ska song from the early sixties, by the Folkes Brothers, the opening riff of which is sampled on Shaggy’s version, giving this a folksy, distinctive edge, a world away from the polished beats of the 1990s. This doesn’t in any way answer why reggae keeps coming back to the top of the charts – other than the fact it is impossible not to dance to songs like this – but we’re entering what is perhaps the most reggae-heavy period in chart history, between 1993 and the middle of the decade.

Once the main rhythm, and the up to date production rolls in, the song still doesn’t lose its edge. And that’s mostly thanks to Shaggy’s gruff toasting. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it all sounds pretty filthy… I believe Carolina moves her body just like a squirrel, can jump and prance… And at one point I think Shaggy claims to love how she shag… (I could just Google the lyrics, but I have no desire to prove myself wrong.)

As to why it made #1 months ahead of schedule? Well aside from a need for some escapism from a misty, miserable March, it was included on the soundtrack to the movie ‘Sliver’, starring Sharon Stone (15% on Rotten Tomatoes). Whether that helped or not I don’t know, but if it did I’m glad. This is a rough and ready song, with a wonderfully raw feel. It’s certainly Shaggy’s forgotten chart-topper, but it’s probably his most credible.

Which brings us on to the very first question I posed. ‘Oh Carolina’ has one-hit wonder written all over it, and yet… I can’t adequately explain the subsequent career of Shaggy (AKA Mr Boombastic, AKA Mr Lover-Lover), even though I lived through it. He’s somehow cool – he is an ex-Marine after all – and yet completely ludicrous. By the time of his turn-of-the-century, biggest hit (you know, the one about ‘banging on the bathroom floor’) he was basically a cartoon character. He duetted with Ali G, for Pete’s sake!

Anyway, we can address all this in good time. For now, let’s enjoy his first chart-topper, in all its raunchy, mumbling glory. (I think it helps to enjoy Shaggy when you don’t understand what he’s saying…) And, for the third chart-topper in a row, I have specific memory attached to this record. A primary school friend had a (highly unrequited) crush on a girl called Caroline. Cut to our Primary 4 disco, where we requested this song on his behalf, made sure the DJ announced who it was for, and an entertaining meltdown ensued…

685. ‘No Limit’, by 2 Unlimited

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I know that, in the real world, people don’t usually buy records just to get rid of the previous number one. They buy them because they like the song, or they like the singer, or because they found them in the Woolies’ bargain bin… But, after Whitney Houston had set up camp at the summit for the entire winter of 1992-93, the record that finally replaced it feels refreshingly… different.

No Limit, by 2 Unlimited (their 1st and only #1)

5 weeks, from 7th February – 14th March 1993

Let me hear you say yeah! Booting Whitney out the way is a proper slab of early nineties techno (or should that be ‘techno, techno, techno, techno’?) A sledgehammer synth riff, a breakneck tempo, minimalist lyrics, and a rap. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Job’s a good ‘un.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, There’s no limit… I may have claimed in my post on Snap!’s ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ that dance tunes don’t need deep lyrics. But the lyrics to ‘No Limit’ make most dance tunes sound like ‘American Pie’. Lots of ‘no no’s, and a bit about reaching for the sky. The UK release even deleted the rap – a bit too wordy – and replaced it with some more ‘oh’s, and some ‘techno’s.

Is it wrong that I like this more than some (most…) of the earlier dance number ones? Records like ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’, ‘Killer’, and ‘Ride on Time’ are lauded as classics, while ‘No Limit’ is hidden under the carpet like an embarrassing stain. Well I’m here to reclaim this song. Yes, it’s simplistic, bordering on moronic – three notes and a lot of shouting – but, damn it, it’s fun. I like dance music best when it has the aggression and energy of rock ‘n’ roll and, replace the synths with scuzzy guitars here and you’ve got yourself something pretty punk.

And I admit, I have a soft spot for this tune, because it’s one of the first pop songs that I was aware of at the time. I have distinct memories of this being sung, over and over, in my school playground. 1993 was the year I turned seven, and the songs that made number one started becoming more and more relevant to me. I apologise in advance for any self-indulgence as we head on through the tunes of my childhood, and will try to keep the reminiscing to a minimum…

I’d have put good money on 2 Unlimited being German. Something about the sheer relentlessness of the beat, the ruthless efficiency of the lyrics… National stereotypes aside, most of the finest Europop (think Boney M, Falco and Snap!) has also been of Germanic origin. And I was close! They were Dutch/Belgian, and followed the Snap! formula of a male rapper and a female singer. Between 1991 and 1994 they scored eight UK Top 10s. I’m not sure any are better than ‘No Limit’ – they certainly had a formula, and stuck to it – so it feels right that this was their one and only chart-topper.

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

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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…)

683. ‘Would I Lie to You?’, by Charles & Eddie

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Well, would you look at that. We’ve literally just had the 1990’s biggest R&B/pop/soul hybrid act at number one – Boyz II Men with ‘End of the Road’ – but it turns out that they were but a warm-up act for… checks notes… the decade’s greatest soul single.

Would I Lie to You?, by Charles & Eddie (their 1st and only #1)

2 weeks, from 15th – 29th November 1992

Usually I see a great song coming, and semi-prepare what I’m going to write in advance. You don’t want to do the classics wrong, do you? But despite ‘Would I Lie to You?’ being on the horizon for a while now, and despite me being pretty familiar with it, I was caught off guard by how good it actually is.

The main reason it’s an improvement on ‘End of the Road’, is that it doesn’t go down the default drippy approach of so much ‘90s soul and R&B. The sort of slushy sentiment that Boyz II Men excelled at. No, Charles & Eddie keep things sassy and upbeat in the verses: Everbody’s got their history, On every page a mystery…  Before switching to a heartstring-tugging bridge: I’m tellin’ you baby, You will never find another girl, In this heart of mine…

And OK, the lyrics in the chorus are stock-standard love song: Don’t you know it’s true, Girl there’s no-one else but you… but they’re wrapped up in such a timeless melody that you don’t really notice. Plus, whether or not Charles and Eddie are indeed telling the truth is never established. Part of this song’s attraction, to a cynical mind like mine anyway, is that behind their honeyed voices and gorgeous harmonies they could be full of shit…

But back to that word ‘timeless’. That’s the other, even greater, attraction that this record has. It borrows the best of sixties and seventies soul, of Motown and the Temptations (and with the gospel backing, the organ and the near calypso-sounding drum break it is pretty much a soul music ‘How To…’ guide), but it still sounds perfectly placed in the early ‘90s. It’s authentic enough to stand up on its own, and to not sound like a well-intentioned pastiche. In short, it’s a brilliant record.

Charles Pettigrew and Eddie Chacon met on the New York subway in 1990, when one spotted the other carrying a Marvin Gaye LP. Which for an origin story sounds as great as it does unlikely. Members of twelve-year-old Chacon’s first band, interestingly, went on to join Metallica and Faith No More. He and Charles are, like Tasmin Archer a couple of posts previously, marked down as one-hit wonders, despite producing two studio albums, and three further Top 40 hits.

They split in 1999, with Chacon continuing to work intermittently, and he has released two well-received solo albums in the 2020s. Sadly, Pettigrew died of cancer two years after their split, aged just thirty-seven. This post then can hopefully serve as a tribute, to him, and to the greatest soul chart-topper of the decade.

682. ‘End of the Road’, by Boyz II Men

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Things are getting very nineties around here: from iconic dance hits, to adult, dinner-party pop, to this… Yes, it’s time to sound the boyband klaxon!

End of the Road, by Boyz II Men (their 1st and only #1)

3 weeks, from 25th October – 15th November 1992

When I think of ‘90s boybands’, the first ones that spring to mind are all homegrown: Take That, East 17, 5ive, Boyzone (OK, Irish but still…) Yet all four of the boyband #1s that we’ve covered so far have been by Americans. And they’re getting progressively more sophisticated and mature – from NKOTB, to Color Me Badd, and now Boyz II Men. So much so that it feels slightly unfair to label these dudes as a ‘boyband’.

Except, the name, Boyz II Men, is pure ‘90s Boyband. Is there a ‘z’ in place of the ‘s’…? Check. Are there numbers and/or symbols…? Check. Is it memorably cheesy…? Check check check. Still, musically, this is a big improvement on ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’. It’s an update on the classic sixties/seventies vocal group sound: great voices, and great harmonies, with bass, tenors and baritones swooping all around one another.

If this was a one-off smash by a one-hit wonder, then I might be more effusive in praising it. It is a good record, a well-produced, well-written, well-performed pop song with a soaring bridge, and a catchy chorus: Although we’ve come, To the end of the road… It also has a great spoken word section (and intro, on the album version) in which bass vocalist Michael McCary does his best Barry White: All those times… You ran out with that other fella, Baby I knew about it…

The reason why I’m feeling a bit down on this record is because I know that this was not Boyz II Men’s only hit. And most of those other hits sound very much like ‘End of the Road’. They had a sound, and they rinsed the arse off it: ‘One Sweet Day’, ‘On Bended Knee’, ‘Water Runs Dry’… The one Boyz II Men song that I like more than ‘End of the Road’ is the preposterous ‘I’ll Make Love To You’, which basically sounds like someone doing a Boyz II Men parody.

At least in the UK this was the Boyz only visit to the top of the charts, and the first of just three Top 10 hits. Compare and contrast this with their complete domination of the Billboard charts in the mid-nineties. Two of their singles (including this one) set records for most consecutive weeks at #1. They were the first act since The Beatles to replace themselves at the top. Their five chart-toppers spent a combined 50 (fifty!) weeks at number one…

Thank God, then, for their less-fanatic British fans. They sent the band’s (second) best single to number one, for a perfectly sensible three weeks. And we can appreciate it for the fine piece of soul/R&B that it is. Plus, it was technically a Motown release, giving that legendary label its first UK #1 since ‘I Just Called to Say I Love You’ and, unless anyone wants to tell me otherwise, its last.

681. ‘Sleeping Satellite’, by Tasmin Archer

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It’s fair to say we needed a bit of a chillout, after cutting all those mad shapes to our past couple of chart-toppers, ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ and ‘Ebeneezer Goode’. Enter Tasmin Archer then, with ‘Sleeping Satellite’.

Sleeping Satellite, by Tasmin Archer (her 1st and only #1)

2 weeks, from 11th – 25th October 1992

First things first, this is just as ‘nineties’ as the rave anthem that preceded it. The trip-hop drums and light guitars, for a start, and the way Archer sings the verses quietly before ending them LOUDLY. It’s very nu-soul, in the same vein perhaps as Lisa Stansfield’s semi-recent #1, and the lyrics are quite new-age – a genre that’s been popping up ever since Enya in 1988. It’s grown up, is what it is. Your mum might say she’d heard it on the radio the other morning, and quite liked it. Certainly no schoolboy innuendo about class-A drugs here.

Archer has a great voice, with a rasp that kicks in on those loud bits. You could perhaps accuse her of over-singing, but she gives the song an energy that stops it from becoming too MOR (you know, ‘mum oriented-rock’…) Because, let’s be honest, the lyrics are wishy-washy. I blame you for the moonlit sky, And the dream that died, With the eagles’ flights… She’s referencing the moon landings – the ‘Sleeping Satellite’ of the title is our very own moon – and the fact that we’re neglecting Earth in favour of space adventure. Though, to be fair, the lines in which she seems to be predicting an apocalypse don’t seem too far off, thirty years on…

I like the organ that kicks in, and the power chords that offer some oomph as the song grows. It goes on a bit too long, though, and ultimately the message gets lost in the perfectly pleasant melody. It’s one of those songs, outside Christmas classics, and the various summer-themed number ones, that perfectly suits the time of year that it reached top spot. This was an autumn #1, ideal as the nights started to draw in. I’d also suggest that it joins the likes of ‘Baby Jump’, Slik, and Boris Gardner, as one of the most-forgotten number ones of its time.

‘Sleeping Satellite’ was Tasmin Archer’s debut release, with her having previously worked as a backing singer and recording studio assistant in Bradford. She’s labelled as a one-hit wonder, which is unfair as her follow-up single made the Top 20. In fact she has five Top 40 hits, and a 1993 Brit Award for Best Breakthrough Act. She released her most recent album in 2006, before announcing that she was going into TV and film soundtrack work.

680. ‘Ebeneezer Goode’, by The Shamen

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Hot on the heels of ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ comes another ‘90s dance classic…

Ebeneezer Goode, by The Shamen (their 1st and only #1)

4 weeks, from 13th September – 11th October 1992

And as magisterial as Snap!’s track was, ‘Ebeneezer Goode’ represents the flip-side of dance music in the early years of the decade. Aggressive and in-your-face, the opening voiceover sets the tone: A great philosopher once wrote… Naughty, naughty, Very naughty…. And off we go, cackling like Sid James…

Since forever, pop music and drugs have gone together. Sex and drugs and rock and roll, and all that. But no genre has ever been quite so entwined with illegal substances as electronic dance, and with one Class-A substance in particular. So when a track comes along by one of the big dance acts of the day, shamelessly celebrating said drug, and getting all the grown-ups’ knickers in a twist at the same time, you know it’s going to be a big old hit.

The clever bit here (I was going to use the word ‘genius’, but I think that would be stretching it slightly) is that the drug reference isn’t immediately obvious. ‘Ebeneezer Goode’, you might think, sounds like a character invented by Charles Dickens. Eezer good, Eezer good, He’s Ebeneezer Goode… A silly novelty song, parents around the country might have thought, as they heard it blaring from their teenagers’ bedrooms. Harmless nonsense. But, wait…

And like the teacher who’s twigged on far too late that the class is having a joke at their expense, the parents realise that the chorus could just as well be saying ‘E’s are good, ‘E’s are good… ‘E’s as in Ecstasy… And look, the song’s at number one already. It’s not big, and it’s not clever, but it is pretty amusing. Very naughty indeed…

But amid all the innuendo, the guffawing and the gurning, this is still a banger. The joke would have worn very thin, very quickly, if this wasn’t a good pop tune. I don’t think it’s quite up there with ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’, and I don’t think you’d want to hear it all that often, but it’s a lot of fun. And it’s a significant number one because rave culture isn’t really represented at the top of the charts, despite being one of the big musical movements of the day, and while this is diluted, poppy rave, and it lost the Shamen a lot of ‘hardcore’ fans, it still counts.

It’s also, despite the modern sound, a treasure trove of peculiarly British references. We’ve got rhyming slang, and a shout-out to Vera Lynn, of all people: Anybody got any Vera’s…? Lovely… (‘Vera Lynns’ being rhyming slang for ‘skins’, which people used to mix cannabis and ecstasy) and a reference to ‘Mr Punchinella’ AKA Mr Punch from ‘Punch & Judy’. While  in the second verse there’s even a bit of sensible advice: But go easy on old ‘Eezer, ‘E’s the love you could lose… Pop pills responsibly, kids.

The BBC, always up for a good banning, initially refused to air the song, but relinquished when it became a huge hit. Hilariously, the week that ‘Ebeneezer Goode’ climbed to number one was the Corporation’s ‘drug awareness week’. On TOTP the band changed some of the lyrics, including adding a reference to ‘underlay’, which they explained as a ‘gratuitous rug reference’. Boom and indeed tish. It was far from the first hit song to reference an illegal substance – The Beatles were doing it twenty-five years earlier – but few had done it quite so shamelessly.

The Shamen were a Scottish band, formed in Aberdeen in 1985, and had been around since the very earliest days of house music. They started out making psychedelic pop, before moving to a more electronic sound. This wasn’t their first Top 10 hit, but it was so unexpectedly huge that the band decided to delete it while it was still on top of the charts, so that it wouldn’t come to define them. Sadly, though, it still did, and their hits grew smaller and smaller until they split in 1999. But, as founding member Colin Angus says, ‘Uncle Ebeneezer is still looking after me to this day.’ Whether he’s still dropping MDMA, or he’s talking about royalties, I do not know, but it seems fitting to end this post on a double-entendre.

679. ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’, by Snap!

/ UK #1s blog / 5 Comments

I’m not a huge dance music fan – I feel I should have that phrase on permanent ‘copy paste’, given how many times I’ve said/will say it – but when a dance song clicks…

Rhythm Is a Dancer, by Snap! (their 2nd and final #1)

6 weeks, from 2nd August – 13th September 1992

‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ is one of those that just clicks. And it clicks immediately, grabbing you as the atmospheric intro builds, from the three intertwining synth lines, to the drums, to the backing vocals. When the main vocals and the bass eventually kick in together, I’m inspired to compare it with the ultimate slow-build intro, ‘Smoke on the Water’. Yes, rock snobs, I went there…

The song as a whole is slick and streamlined, much more grown-up than Snap’s first chart-topper, ‘The Power’, which I found harsh and gimmicky. The lyrics are very generic – the title itself is nonsense, if you’ve ever stopped to think about it – but no dance tune needs deep lyrics. Rhythm is a dancer, It’s a soul’s companion… Lift your hands and voices, Free your mind and join us, You can feel it in the air… Complete waffle. But when you’re topless in a sweaty club, choking on the dry ice, it might sound like the dance equivalent of a hymn.

What ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ is best remembered for today, though – as well as being a 1990s club classic – is for its rapped verse. The fact that there’s a rap in the first place is still worth noting. Today it feels standard, but as I mentioned in my post on ‘Black or White’ the idea of sticking a rapped verse in your dance/pop song was a pretty new one in 1992. (‘The Power’ was one of the very first, in fact.) And this is one of the first raps that doesn’t feel tacked on, or gimmicky, bearing in mind that some previous hip-hop chart-toppers have involved the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Simpsons, and Vanilla Ice.

Let the rhythm ride you, Guide you, Sneak inside you… raps Turbo B, sounding like he’s spent the past two years practising. It’s fine, until he reaches the final line, and spoils it: I’m serious as cancer, When I say rhythm is a dancer… In fairness to Turbo, his first reaction was supposedly ‘No way am I singing that shit’. But sing it he did, to a mixed reaction. In my opinion, it’s so crass and so unexpected that it somehow works, and anyway Snap! didn’t invent it – it was a phrase that had been used in hip-hop tracks for years.

My only complaint about this majestic track is that it just glides to a finish. It’s a bit of a flat ending, but then the rest of the song is so cool and icily confident that to finish with something showy might have spoiled it. ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ has placed on all sorts of ‘Best Songs of the 90s’ and ‘Greatest Dance Tunes Ever’ sorts of lists, and has been re-recorded and/or re-leased by Snap! three times since this original release.

Despite being remembered now mainly for their two number ones, Snap! were genuinely huge in the first half of the 1990s, scoring nine Top 10 hits between 1990 and 1994. None were bigger than this, however – the second-highest seller of 1992. They remain active today, with original vocalist Penny Ford back on board, though sadly no more Turbo B.