Today’s Top 10 – July 28th, 1967

Another trip back in time then, with my second ever ‘Today’s Top 10’ (we went back to 1970 a few months ago – check it out if you have the time). This time I thought we’d go back to the summer of 1967… AKA The Summer of Love, in which for a few months the hippy ideal looked like perhaps becoming reality. Three very famous flower-power anthems topped the charts that summer, and all three are on this chart, dated 26th July-1st August 1967. But was the rest of the Top 10 as awash with peace and love? Let’s find out…

#10 – ‘Death of a Clown’, by Dave Davies (up 13 / 2 weeks on chart)

We start with a couple of big climbers, as Dave Davies’ debut solo effort enters the Top 10 this week. ‘Death of a Clown’ often gets classed as a Kinks’ song, and in fairness it does feature all four Kinks playing on it, and it did appear on the album ‘Something Else by the Kinks’. But it charted as a Dave solo number, with Ray contributing the la-la-la refrain, sung by his then wife. Its subject matter is that old rock ‘n’ roll chestnut – the grind of endless touring: I’m drownin’ my sorrows in whisky and gin… Dave Davies, who often chafed under his big brother’s domination of the group’s songwriting, had hoped that this song’s success (it would peak at #3) might lead to a solo album, but it didn’t. As a starter for our 1967 countdown it doesn’t scream ‘Summer of Love’, but Davies’ cravate in the video below is possibly the perfect encapsulation of the phrase ‘baroque pop’.

#9 – ‘Up, Up and Away’, by the Johnny Mann Singers (up 17 / 3 weeks on chart)

A bit more like it, now. An appropriately high climb for the Johnny Mann Singers going ‘Up, Up and Away’ in their beautiful balloons. It’s hardly the height of psychedelia, and it has much more of an upbeat, cabaret cheesiness to it, but it could also serve as a metaphor for indulging in some mind-bending substances. Most of the world knows it as a hit for the 5th Dimension but their version didn’t chart in the UK, leaving the coast clear for composer/arranger Johnny Mann and his singers.

#8 – ‘There Goes My Everything’, by Engelbert Humperdinck (down 2 / 10 weeks on chart)

Hang around the charts of 1967 long enough, and sooner rather than later you’ll come across Engelbert Humperdinck. He had two monster #1s, ‘Release Me’ and ‘The Last Waltz’, with this #2 smash sandwiched in between. ‘There Goes My Everything’ had been a huge US country hit for Jack Greene, before The Hump brought it to the pop charts. There’s more than a whiff of ‘The Green, Green Grass of Home’, a massive success for Tom Jones a few months earlier. Not very ‘Summer of Love’ but, let’s be honest, who could say no to a night of passion with this magnificent pillow-lipped crooner.

#7 – ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’, by Procol Harum (down 3 / 10 weeks on chart)

Aha! Here we are then. One of the big three Summer of Love anthems, which had been at number one for six weeks and was now on its way down the chart. A stone cold, all-time classic which I’ve already named as one the Very Best #1s. Not much more to say, other than read my original post on it here, and give it a play regardless of how many times you’ve heard it before.

#6 – ‘See Emily Play’, by Pink Floyd (up 2 / 6 weeks on chart)

And if Procol Harum weren’t trippy enough, here is some true psychedelica from up and comers Pink Floyd. Written by founder member Syd Barrett, about a girl that he had seen in a forest while tripping on LSD. It is a deeply strange pop single, with lyrics about losing your mind, a demented harpsichord break, and a discordant, feedback-drenched solo. It was only their second single, and Barrett was opposed to releasing it as he didn’t think it was up to scratch. He would leave the band only a few months later, with mental health problems possibly brought on by drug use, and became a famous recluse. Pink Floyd meanwhile went on to release some of the biggest albums of the ’70s. They didn’t release many singles, though, and the next time they visited the Top Ten was with their surprise 1979 Christmas number one, ‘Another Brick in the Wall Pt. II’.

#5 – ‘She’d Rather Be With Me’, by The Turtles (up 2 / 7 weeks in chart)

Into the Top 5, with one of the decade’s great forgotten pop records, by one of the decade’s great forgotten pop groups. If the Turtles have made it into the public consciousness, then it’s for the single that they released just before this, the Billboard #1 ‘Happy Together’. Surprisingly for a song that constantly pops up in movies and on TV as shorthand for ‘The Swinging Sixties!’, ‘Happy Together’ only made #12 in the UK. Perhaps buoyed by that song’s greatness, ‘She’d Rather Be With Me’ went all the way to #4 later in August ’67. And for my money, it’s even better. Chunky production, unashamedly cheerful lyrics, cowbells, and a big, brassy marching band finish crammed into a little over two minutes. The Turtles would have one further Top 10, ‘Elenore’, which they wrote as a parody of ‘Happy Together’, but which manages to be even more ludicrously catchy.

#4 – ‘Alternate Title’, by The Monkees (down 2 / 4 weeks on chart)

Even The Monkees get into the spirit of the time, releasing a record as trippy as anything a better respected band might have put out. ‘Alternate Title’ is a very literal name for this record, as it was released elsewhere as ‘Randy Scouse Git’. (RCA refused to put it out in the UK with that name, as it sounded “somewhat rude to a British audience”.) Micky Dolenz had heard the phrase on the sitcom ‘Till Death Do Us Part’, which British audiences had somehow managed to watch without reaching for the smelling salts. If the Monkees were better respected, then the lyrics to this might warrant as much chin scratching as ‘American Pie’. It’s a bonkers record, with the verses telling the story of a party, referencing The Beatles (the four kings of EMI), the model – and Dolenz’s future wife – Samantha Juste (the being known as ‘Wonder Girl’), and Mama Cass in a yellow dress. The shouty chorus meanwhile represents the establishment yelling at the youth of the day (why don’t you cut your hair?!). And when I call it ‘bonkers’, I mean it in the best possible sense of the word.

#3 – San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair), by Scott McKenzie (up 2 / 3 weeks on chart)

On its way to the top, another anthem for the Summer of Love: an ode to the city where it all began. In fact, ‘San Francisco’ was written as promotion for the Monterey International Pop Festival, held in June that year. So it’s basically an advert… which isn’t super compatible with the hippy ethos, but hey ho. It worked, and young folks flocked to the city that summer, many with the requisite flowers in their hair. Of the three Summer of Love anthems, this one is perhaps the most stuck in that time, and hasn’t transcended to become an all-time classic. But it’s hard to argue with that sweet, wistful melody. Read my original post on it here.

#2 – It Must Be Him (Seul Sur Son Etoile), by Vikki Carr (up 1 / 9 weeks on chart)

Just to remind us that the singles chart is at heart a collection of songs ordered by cold, hard data, with no interest in the trends of the time, this was the #2 single as the Summer of Love reached its peak. American Vikki Carr provides the easy-listening filling between two hippy anthems, with a tune originally written and sung in French. In ‘It Must Be Him’, Carr – who has a lovely, strident voice – waits by the phone hoping her ex will call: Let it please be him, Oh dear God, It must be him, Or I shall die... I’d suggest Vikki might have played it a bit cooler, if only because all that talk of death and God probably brought this close to a BBC ban…

#1 – ‘All You Need Is Love’, by The Beatles (non-mover / 3 weeks on chart)

In the middle of a 3-week run at the top, this chart’s third, and perhaps ultimate, flower-power anthem. You can read my original post here. (I can’t remember what I wrote five years ago, but I’m sure it was largely positive!) Listening again now, I’m struck by how much fun this record is. From the opening bars of La Marseillaise, through Paul’s ‘all together now’s, the snatches of Bach, ‘Greensleeves’, and ‘In the Mood’, to brief glimpses of ‘Yesterday’ and ‘She Loves You’, the worthy message is dressed up in a lot of singalong fun. Brian Epstein, who would die just a few weeks later, described the band’s performance of the song for the ‘Our World’ television link-up as their finest moment.

So I’d say half the Top 10 for this week in July 1967 does the Summer of Love (and LSD) proud. The other half is more standard sixties: middle-of-the-road ballads, quality pop, and some high-grade crooning. Hope you enjoyed this detour, and I’ll do another one before the year is out.

Random Runners-Up: ‘Everybody Knows’, by The Dave Clark Five

Our next #2 takes us back to the winter of 1967 – The Winter of Love, as nobody called it – and a band who had scored their sole chart-topper almost four years earlier…

‘Everybody Knows’, by the Dave Clark Five

#2 for 2 weeks, from 29th November to 5th December and 13th to 19th December 1967, behind ‘Let the Heartaches Begin’ and ‘Hello, Goodbye’

Of the five songs that I’ll feature this week, this is the one I’d never heard before writing the post. And it’s a tune that’s very typical of the time. A waltzing rhythm, soaring strings, glossy, chiming guitars… A world away from the pounding pop of ‘Glad All Over’. In fact I’d say it owes a large debt to the big breakout star of 1967 – pillow-lipped crooner extraordinaire, Engelbert Humperdinck. (The Hump went and covered ‘Everybody Knows’ for his ‘Last Waltz’ LP, and made the bold choice to change the lyrics so that he was singing about a man…)

This is a nice enough song, with a lovely key change in the build up to the chorus. But it’s a sign of where pop music was post-British Invasion, when the hippy dream started to go sour, and the sixties started to lose a little of their swing. The best bands ploughed their own furrows: The Beatles went to India; The Stones went satanic; The Kinks hopped down a rabbit-hole of nostalgia… While the rest were left trying to remain relevant. Hence perhaps why The Dave Clark Five ended up sounding like something your gran might shimmy around the living room to, rather than being at the forefront of the hot pop sounds.

Despite it being unashamedly old-fashioned, this single gave the DC5 their biggest hit since ‘Glad All Over’. Possibly the time of year helped, as who can resist a bit of schmaltz at Christmas time? Contrarily, the band had already released a song called ‘Everybody Knows (I Still Love You)’ in 1964, meaning that this one has become unoffically known as ‘Everybody Knows (You Said Goodbye)’. And though it may sound like a swansong, this wasn’t the end for the Five. They still had three Top 10 hits to come, the last of which came in 1970, meaning they outlasted many of their contemporaries.

Tomorrow we’ll have our final runner-up of the series, and if it isn’t another of the most famous #2 singles of all time…

237. ‘The Last Waltz’, by Engelbert Humperdinck

The Summer of Love is over. The VWs are rolling back home. People are sobering up and cutting their hair. Squeezing back into starchy old suits rather than baggy tie-dye. And the top of the UK singles charts reflects this. Engelbert is back; and he has no time for hippies.

Engelbert Humperdinck

The Last Waltz, by Engelbert Humperdinck (his 2nd and final #1)

5 weeks, from 6th September – 11th October 1967

‘The Last Waltz’ is indeed a waltz. Any hope that it might just be a misleading title is crushed in the opening bars. I wonder should I go, Or should I stay, The band had only one more song to play… We’re in a dancehall, and it’s time for the final song of the night. Engelbert’s out on the pull, but hasn’t had any luck. Until… I saw you out of the corner of my eye, A little girl alone and so shy…

Immediately I like this more than his earlier #1, the dreary ‘Release Me’. It’s just got a little more of a swagger, more of a wink in its eye, a certain je ne sais quoi… It also sounds a lot more contemporary, with a touch of the swinging sixties buried in amongst all the schmaltz. It’s the la-lalalalala-lalas, I think, that shimmer in an oh so sixties way. They remind me of Jackie Trent’s ‘Where Are You Now (My Love)’ from a couple of years back.

And then comes the chorus, and it is undeniable. I had the last waltz with you, Two lonely people together… Engelbert croons like the fate of the world depends on it. And the way he powers through the I fell in love with you… line is spectacular. The last waltz should last forever… Classy.

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In the end, however, it hasn’t lasted. They’ve split up (though the tense keeps switching between past and present in a way that doesn’t make it immediately obvious.) And so they have truly had their last waltz. I know it’s pure and utter cheese but – keep this secret, will you? – I kind of like it. And I really like the way he doesn’t go for the all-out big finish. He just allows it to slide away with some more lalalas.

So. Just what should 1967 be remembered for? For the Summer of Love? Or for blockbuster easy-listening hits like this? Or an uncomfortable mix of both? Engelbert Humperdinck’s two chart-toppers – one in the spring, one in the autumn – straddle the year like pillow-lipped bookends. After this the hits kept coming for a while, before he settled into a life of Vegas-residencies and TV specials. In 1996 he recorded the song ‘Lesbian Seagull’ for the soundtrack of ‘Beavis and Butthead Do America’. In 2012 he represented the UK at the Eurovision Song Contest. Clearly, despite his multi-decade success, he isn’t a man that takes himself too seriously. Let’s leave him here. Engelbert Humperdinck. The ultimate housewives’ choice. The man, the myth, the name…

230. ‘Release Me’, by Engelbert Humperdinck

An unassuming intro leads us, soft and gentle, into a swaying lullaby of a latest chart-topper. Please release me, Let me go, For I don’t love you, Anymore…

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Release Me, by Engelbert Humperdinck (his 1st of two #1s)

6 weeks, from 2nd March – 13th April 1967

Sigh. What has happened to the charts in recent weeks? We’ve gone from the pinnacle of the swinging sixties to the easy-listening doldrums… Jim Reeves, Tom Jones, Petula Clark (who’s fab, but still…) and now this. A new level of schmaltz.

I have found a new love dear… And I will always want her near… The one redeeming thing about this record is that it’s not a love song. It should be; but it’s really a break-up plea. Which gives it a slightly OTT, unintentionally comic feel. Especially with lines like Her lips are warm while yours are cold… (Ouch!) Such is the strength of the plea, I’m assuming he’s singing to his wife, and needs a divorce. Otherwise, why doesn’t he just dump her…? Or is he just too much of a gentleman to do a caddish thing like that?

When the backing singers come in, it really is a step too far. So let’s tune out for a moment, and focus on the most interesting thing about this record (apart from the singer’s name, but we’ll get to that in a bit.) ‘Release Me’, famously, held The Beatles’ ‘Penny Lane’ / ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ double-‘A’ off the top-spot. For a fortnight, one of the most innovative and respected pop singles ever was outsold by just one disc. Engelbert’s.

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He turns it up a notch or two for the final chorus. We move from crooning to belting. He gives the final So….. some real welly. It goes without saying that, yes, he sings it well. I feel I’ve written that quite a lot recently. And frankly, it’s not enough to save this one. It’s like saying that a footballer kicks a ball well. He’s still got to find the goal! And the slow pace and pure blandness of this record means it’s one that bobbles well wide of the post.

Unlike ‘This Is My Song’, which just sounded old, ‘Release Me’ was a (fairly) old song. First written and released in 1949, and given the treatment by Patti Page, The Everly Brothers and Dean Martin among others. It goes without saying that Humperdinck’s version is the best-known. It was, inevitably, the highest-selling single of 1967.

And what of the elephant in the room? That name. Engelbert Humperdinck was a stage name, his real one being Arnold Dorsey. But, amazingly, it is an actual name. Engelbert Humperdinck I was a German composer from the turn of the century. Humperdinck II just wholesale borrowed the name – which seems cheeky to me. He was managed by the same guy as Tom Jones, and ‘Release Me’ was his breakthrough hit. His post-sixties career is pretty interesting, but I’ll hold off on the full bio as, joy of joys, he has another huge chart-topper coming up shortly…

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