Heaven, by DJ Sammy & Yanou ft. Do (their 1st and only #1s)
1 week, 3rd – 10th November 2002
That’s the sort of thing people used to shout when the beat dropped on this next number one, in the cheap nightclubs I was frequenting in 2002, where they didn’t check IDs and the carpet oozed decades’ worth of alcohol onto your shiny school shoes (no trainers allowed – they did have some standards).
This is cheap and nasty trance pop. Ned music, if you’re from where I’m from. Faceless Euro DJs with sledgehammer originals, and remixes of old hits. Think Ultrabeat, Basshunter, Cascada and, daddies of them all, SCOOOOO-TER! They did the job, when you were young and off your face on Smirnoff Ice, but for dance music in general I’d say it was a step backwards.
Compare this to the Eurodance of a couple years earlier: Fragma, Modjo, ATB. Their offerings were a lot subtler, a bit more thoughtful. For much of the 2010s though, as far as I could tell, most dance tunes sounded like DJ Sammy. And one on hand I do like the heavy, deliberate beats that trance gives you. It lends itself to lasers and dry ice, and listening to this now I am starting to get slightly nostalgic. But it also gets repetitive.
‘Heaven’ was originally a hit for Bryan Adams in 1985, when it had given him his first US #1 (and had made #38 in the UK). It provided a similar breakthrough for DJ Sammy, a Spaniard who had been active since the mid-90s. His version of ‘Heaven’ also impressively made the Billboard Top 10, a chart usually immune to the charms of European dance music. Sammy had further success with versions of Don Henley’s ‘Boys of Summer’ and Annie Lennox’s ‘Why’, and he continues to record and to DJ.
The credits for this song feel very 21st century. Imagine telling someone in 1952 that fifty years later number one hits would be recorded by acts named DJ Sammy & Yanou ft. Do. Yanou was the German producer who collaborated on this track, and Do a Dutch singer who provided the vocals. Neither have troubled the UK charts again, though Do was fairly successful in her homeland and Yanou went on to work extensively with the aforementioned Cascada.
Another thing I remember about this song was the very popular ‘candlelight mix’: a stripped back, piano version without the thumping beat, which probably soundtracked many a teenage fumble among my schoolfriends. Like I said, listening to this now is making me slightly nostalgic. I have to remind myself that I thought this was crap at the time, and that it’s still fairly crap now. But therein lies the pernicious danger of nostalgia, making even the bad, the cheap, and the tacky, appear good.
Hurray! Our first random dance hit of the new century! From the mid-nineties onwards these have become a common occurrence, and they aren’t letting up in the early years of the 2000s.
Don’t Give Up, by Chicane (his 1st and only #1) ft. Bryan Adams (his 2nd and final #1)
1 week, from 12th – 19th March 2000
This is blissed-out, late-afternoon by the pool sort of dance. Background dance, if there is such a thing. Which begs the question, how did this middling record end up on top of the charts? What’s the USP? Is it the fact that it’s rock music’s Bryan Adams croaking his way through it?
Maybe it was a bigger deal than it seems now, a middle-aged rock star appearing on a fresh dance track. Nowadays nobody bats an eyelid at a rock-cum-dance remix. I initially wondered if it was a sample of an old Adams’ track, but no – it was written by Adams in 1999, then mixed and produced by Chicane (British DJ Nicholas Bracegirdle). Vocally, Adams does a Cher and is heavily vocoded and autotuned. And yet, you can instantly tell it’s him. I never would have pegged him as having such a distinctive voice.
Other than the novelty of Bryan Adams’ featuring on it, there’s not much here to catch the ears. It picks up a bit from the midway point, with some higher tempo trance touches, but it remains fairly repetitive. I can’t escape the feeling that this sounds like the sort of remix that would usually have been tucked away as the third track on a CD single.
Perhaps the success of this record was due to the fact that Chicane had been responsible for the single edit of Adams’ 1999 #6 single ‘Cloud Number Nine’ (a much better song than this). View ‘Don’t Give Up’ as the follow-up and its success starts to make more sense. Chicane didn’t have too many big hits, but when they did it was usually with someone interesting. His single before this featured Máire Brennan, sister of Enya, while his 2006 hit ‘Stoned in Love’ was with Tom Jones.
Bryan Adams meanwhile was no stranger to chart success. This was his 11th Top 10 hit since arriving on these shores in the mid-eighties. It is interesting to see the difference in his two chart-toppers though, both in terms of their sound, and in their presence at the top. ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It For You’ holds the record for consecutive weeks at number one; while a decade later ‘Don’t Give Up’ squeaked a solitary week on fairly low sales, just over a thousand copies ahead of Madonna in the end.
For the twenty-third time, no less. This recap spans well over two years, from March 1991 to June 1993, which I think – without going back through all the previous twenty-two – might be a record. At least since the mid-fifties, when songs having double-digit runs at the top of the charts was the norm.
And the reason why we’ve taken so long to cover the last thirty #1s? It would be tempting to lay the blame at the feet of Bryan Adams, for his still record-holding sixteen-week consecutive run with ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You’, and Whitney Houston for her ten-week stint with ‘I Will Always Love You’. But we’ve also had an eight-weeker from Shakespear’s Sister, a six-weeker from Snap!, and six separate five-weekers. In a previous post, I went into some of the reasons behind this: a decline in vinyl sales not yet being covered by growing CD sales, resulting in sluggish charts. Give it a few years though, and all this will be behind us, with sales at an all-time high.
It might also have had something to do with the lack of a dominant ‘sound’ in the early nineties. Sales tend to peak with hot new genres – Merseybeat, glam, disco, new wave – and trough during the years in between. We’re currently between the house, dance and SAW of the late ‘80s and the Britpop years, and this is best indicated by the likes of Adams and Houston’s monster hits. Both were from blockbuster movies, and they were far from the only two. In fact, if we had to pick a dominant genre from the early ‘90s, it would be the movie soundtrack hit.
I count seven movie soundtrack #1s in this period, spanning all manner of genres: Chesney Hawkes (pop-rock), Cher (retro pop), Color Me Bad (boyband R&B), Adams and Houston (power ballads), Shaggy (reggae), and UB40 (reggae-lite), plus a bit of musical theatre from Jason Donovan. Some have been good, some have been okay, some I would happily never hear again.
If we had a runner-up in the ‘sounds of the early nineties’ category, then it would have to be the random re-release. They’ve been popping up since Jackie Wilson scored 1986’s Christmas number one, and they’ve usually – though not always – been TV advert tie-ins. The most recent two gave us a couple of pretty unique chart-toppers: The Clash’s ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’, and The Bluebells’ ‘Young at Heart’, thanks to Levi’s and VW respectively. But these, sadly, mark the end of the re-release phenomenon (for now…)
Before hitting the awards portion of this post, let’s go through some of the other stories from the past thirty chart-toppers. And it’s starting to feel like the ‘nineties’ as I remember it, with dance music continuing to shapeshift from its sample-heavy origins, into streamlined pop smashes like ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’, and techno bangers such as ‘No Limit’ (not to mention the soon to be everywhere, half-hearted dance remakes of oldies a laKWS). There’s also been a whiff of Britpop in the unlikely shape of Vic Reeves and The Wonder Stuff.
We’ve bid farewell to Freddie Mercury, twice; with the posthumous ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’ (paired with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’) in the wake of his death, and the ‘Five Live E.P.’ on which Queen performed a live version of that hit, and of ‘Somebody to Love’, with Lisa Stansfield and George Michael. The other two tracks on that EP were Michael solo tracks which, along with his earlier live duet with Elton John on ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’, have helped confirm him as the biggest British solo star of the era.
We’ve also started to ride the crest of another reggae wave. (In fact, the three #1s from Shaggy, Ace of Base and UB40 towards the end of this thirty set the charts up nicely for probably their most prolonged run of reggae hits.) Elsewhere, Michael Jackson premiered the biggest music video ever, in his usual understated way, and the evergreen Cher set a record for the longest gap between number one singles. Plus, we can’t finish without mentioning Erasure, who scored a chart-topper after years of trying, and kickstarted the modern ABBA-nnaisance.
To the awards then. Starting, as is traditional, with the The ‘Meh’ Award for bland forgettability. I briefly considered Jason Donovan’s ‘Any Dream Will Do’, but that soundtrack was the first CD I ever owned, and residual fondness prevents me. There was also UB40’s pedestrian cover of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’, but I’ve already awarded them a ‘Meh’ award, and to do so twice would be cruel. So we’re left with Wet Wet Wet’s ‘Goodnight Girl’, which does have a good chorus, Tasmin Archer’s ‘Sleeping Satellite’, with a vocal performance which doesn’t really deserve such an award, and KWS’s bland dance double ‘Please Don’t Go’ / ‘Game Boy’. The KC & the Sunshine Band cover was dull, and the hardcore ‘Game Boy’ was ear-catching for a minute before it become repetitive. They win.
We don’t have quite as rich a set of pickings for The WTAF Awardfor being interesting if nothing else as we did in the last recap, but it’s still a strong field. You could give it to ‘Stay’, for the video alone. Or Right Said Fred for their jaunty, non-‘Sexy’, ‘Deeply Dippy’. Or maybe Hale and Pace’s char-com danceathon ‘The Stonk’ (though I perhaps have bigger things planned for that record…) No, I’m giving this WTAF award to The Shamen, for bringing rave culture and quality innuendo to the top of the charts, with the leering, gurning ‘Ebeneezer Goode’.
Where to go with this recap’s Very Worst Chart-Topper award, then. Do we give it to Color Me Badd and their lame attempts to woo us with ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’? Or do we give it to ‘The Stonk’ – a ‘comedy’ record so aggressively unfunny that it was almost sad…? Do we give it to either of the gruesome twosome who clogged the top of the charts up for over half a year between them…? To be honest, yes, let’s. I just can’t get past the elephant in the room – a record that stayed at #1 so long it started to stink like a beached whale-carcass, ticking every bad power-balled cliché on the list. Bryan Adams wins.
Finally, of course, the 23rdVery Best Chart-Topper award. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the general quality of our recent number ones, but I’m struggling to pick an all-time classic. I’m tempted to give it to 2 Unlimited, for their very-1993 techno banger. It’s big, it’s dumb, it’s a whole lot of fun. But I couldn’t live with myself if I did, not really. Instead, I’m awarding it to Charles & Eddie, for the least nineties-sounding song of the entire thirty. It’s a slice of timeless soul, the quality of which surprised me when I listened to it for the first time in years. Check it out again below, if you haven’t. Unlike the two chaps in question, I wouldn’t lie to you…
Let’s recap the recaps:
The ‘Meh’ Award for Forgettability
‘Hold My Hand’, by Don Cornell.
‘It’s Almost Tomorrow’, by The Dream Weavers.
‘On the Street Where You Live’, by Vic Damone.
‘Why’, by Anthony Newley.
‘The Next Time’ / ‘Bachelor Boy’, by Cliff Richard & The Shadows.
‘Juliet’, by The Four Pennies.
‘The Carnival Is Over’, by The Seekers.
‘Silence Is Golden’, by The Tremeloes.
‘I Pretend’, by Des O’Connor.
‘Woodstock’, by Matthews’ Southern Comfort.
‘How Can I Be Sure’, by David Cassidy.
‘Annie’s Song’, by John Denver.
‘I Only Have Eyes For You’, by Art Garfunkel.
‘I Don’t Want to Talk About It’ / ‘The First Cut Is the Deepest’, by Rod Stewart.
‘Three Times a Lady’, by The Commodores.
‘What’s Another Year’, by Johnny Logan.
‘A Little Peace’, by Nicole.
‘Every Breath You Take’, by The Police.
‘I Got You Babe’, by UB40 with Chrissie Hynde.
‘Who’s That Girl’, by Madonna.
‘A Groovy Kind of Love’, by Phil Collins.
‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’, by Band Aid II.
‘Please Don’t Go’ / ‘Game Boy’, by KWS.
The WTAF Award for being interesting if nothing else
‘I See the Moon’, by The Stargazers.
‘Lay Down Your Arms’, by Anne Shelton.
‘Hoots Mon’, by Lord Rockingham’s XI.
‘You’re Driving Me Crazy’, by The Temperance Seven.
‘Nut Rocker’, by B. Bumble & The Stingers.
‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, by Gerry & The Pacemakers.
‘Little Red Rooster’, by The Rolling Stones.
‘Puppet on a String’, by Sandie Shaw.
‘Fire’, by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown.
‘In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)’, by Zager & Evans.
‘Amazing Grace’, The Pipes & Drums & Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guard.
‘Kung Fu Fighting’, by Carl Douglas.
‘If’, by Telly Savalas.
‘Wuthering Heights’, by Kate Bush.
‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’, by Ian Dury & The Blockheads.
‘Shaddap You Face’, by Joe Dolce Music Theatre.
‘It’s My Party’, by Dave Stewart & Barbara Gaskin.
‘Save Your Love’ by Renée & Renato.
‘Rock Me Amadeus’, by Falco.
‘Pump Up the Volume’ / ‘Anitina (The First Time I See She Dance)’, by M/A/R/R/S.
‘Doctorin’ the Tardis’, by The Timelords.
‘Sadeness Part 1’, by Enigma.
‘Ebeneezer Goode’, by The Shamen.
The Very Worst Chart-Toppers
‘Cara Mia’, by David Whitfield with Mantovani & His Orchestra.
‘The Man From Laramie’, by Jimmy Young.
‘Roulette’, by Russ Conway.
‘Wooden Heart’, by Elvis Presley.
‘Lovesick Blues’, by Frank Ifield.
‘Diane’, by The Bachelors.
‘The Minute You’re Gone’, by Cliff Richard.
‘Release Me’, by Engelbert Humperdinck.
‘Lily the Pink’, by The Scaffold.
‘All Kinds of Everything’, by Dana.
‘The Twelfth of Never’, by Donny Osmond.
‘The Streak’, by Ray Stevens.
‘No Charge’, by J. J. Barrie
‘Don’t Give Up On Us’, by David Soul
‘One Day at a Time’, by Lena Martell.
‘There’s No One Quite Like Grandma’, by St. Winifred’s School Choir.
‘I’ve Never Been to Me’, by Charlene.
‘Hello’, by Lionel Richie.
‘I Want to Know What Love Is’, by Foreigner.
‘Star Trekkin’’, by The Firm.
‘Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You’, by Glenn Medeiros.
‘Let’s Party’, by Jive Bunny & The Mastermixers.
‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You’, by Bryan Adams.
The Very Best Chart-Toppers
‘Such a Night’, by Johnnie Ray.
‘Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White’, by Perez ‘Prez’ Prado & His Orchestra.
‘Great Balls of Fire’, by Jerry Lee Lewis.
‘Cathy’s Clown’, by The Everly Brothers.
‘Telstar’, by The Tornadoes.
‘She Loves You’ by The Beatles.
‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’, by The Rolling Stones.
‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’, by Procol Harum.
‘I Heard It Through the Grapevine’, by Marvin Gaye.
‘Baby Jump’, by Mungo Jerry.
‘Metal Guru’, by T. Rex.
‘Tiger Feet’, by Mud.
‘Space Oddity’, by David Bowie.
‘I Feel Love’, by Donna Summer.
‘Heart of Glass’, by Blondie.
‘The Winner Takes It All’, by ABBA.
‘My Camera Never Lies’, by Bucks Fizz.
‘Relax’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.
‘You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)’, by Dead or Alive
(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.)
The UK Number Ones Blog 