number two singles

Should Have Been a #1…? ‘Common People’, by Pulp

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Often when I’ve done a ‘Should Have Been a #1…’ post, it’s because the song featured was particularly unlucky when being deprived of top spot. ‘God Save the Queen’ may have been the victim of a political manoeuvre, ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ the victim of the festive holidays, and ‘Groove Is in the Heart’ runner up in the closest sales race ever…

But ‘Common People’ was beaten fair and square, by the more popular, better-selling record: Robson & Jerome’s double-‘A’ of ‘Unchained Melody’ and ‘White Cliffs of Dover’. Still, I do think that this was the biggest chart travesty ever… A travesty of public taste. But this post isn’t just a lamentation on Pulp’s poor fortune; it’s a tribute to all the Britpop records that never made number one. (Robson & Jerome did the double a few months later, also keeping Oasis’s ‘Wonderwall’ in second place behind their cover of ‘I Believe’.)

If our journey through 1995 has taught us anything, it’s that Britpop was badly served at the top of the singles chart. Few big musical movements are less well-represented at the top – maybe punk, and heavy metal. Oasis and Blur have had a #1 each, and they’ll have more going forward. In the weeks and months to come we’ll meet the Prodigy, the Verve, and the Manic Street Preachers (none of whom can truly be defined as ‘Britpop’) as well as a remixed Cornershop, and a dubious one from the Lightning Seeds. Maybe that’s the problem: what was Britpop? Blur were around way before the term was coined. Pulp had been going since the early eighties. Maybe true ‘Britpop’ is literally just Oasis…

Anyway, Pulp may precede and post-date Britpop, but ‘Common People’ is the ultimate Britpop anthem. It’s confident, cocky, clever, and very British. It condenses centuries of class history into four minutes, plus you can dance to it. It bestrides British pop culture to this day, cropping up most recently in a funny reference in ‘Saltburn’. It came from the ‘Different Class’ album – by my money the best Britpop LP – which also featured another #2: ‘Sorted for E’s & Whizz’ / ‘Mis-Shapes’… (kept off top by Simply Red).

‘Sorted…’ had some rock ‘n’ roll controversy about it, getting the Daily Mirror’s knickers in a twist about its ‘pro-drugs message’. (Even the most perfunctory listen to the song reveals a distinctly non-positive drugs message…) ‘Mis-Shapes’ meanwhile is an outsiders anthem – You could end up with a smack in the mouth, Just for standing out, now, really… – the antithesis to some of the more laddish elements of Britpop.

Away from Pulp, the second biggest Britpop #2 (from a band that didn’t otherwise make #1) is the evergreen, ever-perky ‘Alright’, by Supergrass – kept off top by the dreaded Outhere Brothers. An ode to being young – the band were still teenagers when it was recorded – it’s impossible not to feel cheered when you hear it, with lyrics like: We wake up, We go out, Smoke a fag, Put it out, See our friends, See the sights, Feel alright… (I’m a big Supergrass fan, and can confirm that ‘Alright’, as fun as it is, isn’t even close to being their best song. Do a deep dive!) They made #2 again in 1997, with the thumping ‘Richard III’.

Another close call came in January 1996, when the Bluetones took the jangly, Stone Roses leaning ‘Slight Return’ to #2. And the oft-maligned Kula Shaker were the other Britpop runners-up, their lightly psychedelic rockers ending up in 2nd place twice: ‘Hey Dude’, and a cover of sixties classic ‘Hush’.

And I’ll end with the band many claim kicked off the entire Britpop genre: Suede. They never managed even a #2; but here’s their biggest hit, from their biggest album – 1996’s #3 smash ‘Trash’.

‘Trash’ is another song – like ‘Alright’ and ‘Common People’ – that celebrates people’s weirdness, their exuberance, their individuality. Britpop, for all it’s Blur Vs Oasis boorishness, was often more concerned with everyone getting along, and having a good time. The perfect musical movement, perhaps, as we charged towards the end of the 20th Century, and the dark unknown of the Y2K. I was just a little too late to enjoy it fully (I turned twelve in early 1998, as the genre began to dissipate) but the shadows of it reached deep into the music of my teens, the Stereophonics and the Coldplays and the Travises, and on into the indie-rock revival of 2003-2007.

But at the same time, perhaps it’s difficult to define what Britpop is, and why so many of its biggest names pre-dated and then outlasted it, because it was the first big musical movement to rely heavily on sounds that had gone before. Britpop was essentially a ‘Best Of’ British rock, taking everything from the Beatles to the Stone Roses, and all that came inbetween – the Kinks, the Small Faces, Slade, the Jam – distilling it into great pop songs. It was the last big evolution of rock music in the 20th century, the century that birthed rock and roll, but perhaps it was so backward-facing, so reverential to what had gone before, that it was also the last evolution of rock music, full stop. Like a Greatest Hits tour before the end of the rock ‘n’ roll century. Post-Britpop, guitar-led music never again dominated the pop charts. In 2024, the dominant British stars are rappers, DJs, female pop singers, and scruffy singer-songwriters types. And while I’m not such a rock snob that I can’t enjoy other types of music – hopefully I’ve made that clear plenty of times on the blog – I also can’t help looking back nostalgically to a time when guitar bands were the sound of the pop charts (though not the sound of the number one spot…)

Random Runners-Up: ‘All Right Now’, by Free

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Our final #2 of the week, and it’s a long-haired, hard-riffing rock classic…

‘All Right Now’, by Free

#2 for 5 weeks, from 28th June to 1st August 1970, behind ‘In the Summertime’ and ‘The Wonder of You’

Listen to any classic rock radio station, or head to a set by any pub band, and you will hear ‘All Right Now’, sooner rather than later. It is inevitable, immutable. Cliched, certainly. But it’s also undeniable. If you look up ‘rock music’ in the dictionary, it probably says: ‘See: ‘All Right Now’, by Free’.

‘All Right Now’ is one of the first rock songs I can remember being aware of. My dad had a ‘Now That’s What I Call the Very Best Classic Rock Album in the World’ type tape for long car journeys, and this was always one of my favourites. (The song for me is quite literally ‘Dad Rock’.) Paul Rodgers always sounded so cool, the way he went from chuckling at the end of some lines, to belting out the Let’s move before they raise the parking rate… line in a husky growl.

Listening to it now, as an adult, I can appreciate the fact that its a very ‘seventies’ rocker – I said hey, What is this? Maybe she’s in need of a kiss… – but also quite clever in the way it twists expectations in the second verse. It’s the woman who cries foul when the question of love comes up. It’s all right now… and maybe now is enough.

But interpreting the lyrics of a rock classic like this is to miss the point. The power of the song lies in the riff, the oh-woah-woah in the intro, and the near minute-long solo. It catapulted Free to stardom, after two albums that had done very little. Not that it lasted, though, as after two further Top 10 hits they disbanded in 1973. In the US ‘All Right Now’ made #4, and is a bona-fide one-hit wonder.

Like many great songs, this was apparently thrown together in ten minutes after a disappointing gig at Durham University. The band felt they needed a big tune to end their shows on… I’d say they pulled it out the bag with this one. (I used to live in Durham, and must have visited the building in which ‘All Right Now’ was written many times without realising…)

After they split, Paul Rodgers formed Bad Company (whose ‘Can’t Get Enough’ was also on that album of my dad’s), and performed solo, before touring with Queen as their lead singer. And I hope everyone enjoyed our sojourn among the random runners-up. Next week, we’ll resume the usual chart-topping posts but, until then, why not rock out to this classic one more time. All right now, indeed.

(I don’t usually attach live versions to my posts, but this performance is just pure rock and roll…)

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

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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…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vpWHGBVz0o

Random Runners-Up: ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’, by Bobby McFerrin

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Our 3rd random runner-up for the week, and I have to admit I smiled when the date generator threw up this #2 single…

‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’, by Bobby McFerrin

#2 for 1 week, from 16th – 22nd October 1988, behind ‘One Moment in Time’

I smiled, because I would be able to tell the world how much I detest this song. To say the date generator threw it up feels apt (as does calling it a ‘number two’ single….)

Childish name calling aside, I really do struggle to find anything likeable about this song. Which is strange, because there are few pop songs that have tried as hard to be likeable. The whistling, the finger clicks, the spoken asides… It’s all so folksy, so cute. An a cappella song for all ages – from five to ninety-five – to enjoy.

Except, no. It genuinely makes my skin crawl. And that’s before you get to the lyrics. One critic at the time described it as a ‘formula for for facing life’s trials’, but Bobby’s formula is to simply smile like a lunatic at whatever problems life brings… No money, no partner, rent’s due and the landlord is taking you to court…? Don’t worry, be happy! Why? ‘Cause when you worry your face will frown, And that will bring everybody down… So shut up and smile, you whiny prick!

Maybe I’m reading the song wrong, and am missing a layer of cynicism buried within. Maybe it’s a satire of this sort of life-affirming nonsense. But I doubt it. I’m pretty good at spotting cynicism. No, for me, this is the musical equivalent of a ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ poster, a song for those who refuse to ‘adult’. Plus the song’s crimes go beyond the pop charts: it helped spawn Big Mouth Billy Bass, the mounted fish toy that sings ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ on demand.

While I think it’s bad enough that this made #2 in the UK; it made it to the top in the US, Canada, and Germany. It stayed at #1 for seven weeks Down Under, which confirms every suspicion I ever had about Australians… It was released on the soundtrack to the Tom Cruise movie ‘Cocktail’, which features another all-time classic in The Beach Boys’ ‘Kokomo’. Bobby McFerrin is a one-hit wonder thanks to this tune, but to his credit he moved pretty quickly away from uplifting novelties, and started working in TV and film sountracks, as well as classical, jazz, and musical education in colleges and schools.

Random Runners-Up: ‘Do You Want to Know a Secret?’, by Billy J. Kramer & The Dakotas

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Our next randomly selected #2 comes from what, for my money, must have been the most exciting time to be a pop music fan. Come with me back to the summer of 1963, and the Merseybeat explosion…

‘Do You Want to Know a Secret?’, by Billy J. Kramer & The Dakotas

#2 for 2 weeks, from 30th May to 12th June 1963, behind ‘From Me to You’

And its one Liverpudlian act, Billy J. Kramer, covering another, The Beatles. Many of the early beat bands ended up relying on Lennon & McCartney hand-me-downs, and The Dakotas were no different. A few months after this, their debut hit, they would score a first number one with another Beatles cast-off, ‘Bad to Me’.

‘Do You Want to Know a Secret?’ had featured on the Fab Four’s first album, ‘Please Please Me’, released in March that year. (I only just realised that it was sung by George Harrison, who sounds remarkably like Paul McCartney on the recording.) It’s a sweet, simple song, but not one which really indicates that the band were going to be the biggest pop phenomenon the world had ever seen. And The Dakotas’ version is even more diluted, a little more ramshackle, a little old-fashioned in a rockabilly kind of way. Again nice, but they’d pick up the pace on ‘Bad to Me’.

It made #2 during the seven-week run of The Beatles’ first chart-topper, ‘From Me to You’ (not the last time Lennon & McCartney would occupy a Top 2…) It may even have been the best-selling single in the country at some point during its run, but not on the Record Retailer chart, which is what the Official Charts now recognise. It’s the reverse of the situation a few months earlier, when The Beatles’ ‘Please Please Me’ had stalled at #2 in Record Retailer, and therefore the history books, behind yodeller supreme Frank Ifield.

Billy J. Kramer would remain popular for a year or two, scoring a second chart-topper with the ever so slightly creepy ‘Little Children’. Like so many of the earliest Merseybeat stars, though, his star had waned by 1965. The original ‘Do You Want to Know a Secret?’, meanwhile, would go on to be released as a single in the US, where it also made #2.

Random Runners-Up: ‘American Pie’, by Don McLean

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It’s that time of year, when I fire up my random date generator (random.org, for all your randomly generated needs) and choose some number two singles from across the ages.

In the main Number Ones blog we’ve reached mid-1993, and so the runners-up I picked could have come from any chart dated between then, and the very first in November 1952. I’m not choosing these hits because I like them, or dislike them… I may not have even heard of them. It’s all random. And yet, the first #2 that pops up just happens to be one of the most famous of all time…

‘American Pie’, by Don McLean

#2 for 3 weeks, from 27th Feb to 18th March 1972, behind ‘Son of My Father’ and ‘Without You’

On the one hand, great that this classic gets a post. It’s a #1 on every metric – cultural heft, recognisability, singalongability – except the one metric that matters when it comes to getting a #1: sales. On the other hand… What’s left for little old me to write about this colossus?

Thirteen-year-old Don McLean was doing his paper round, or so the story goes, in February 1959, when he read the news of the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper (and their pilot) AKA ‘The Day the Music Died’. February made me shiver, With every paper I’d deliver…

The song then goes on to detail the history of rock music from the late fifties to the early seventies, with cryptic references to Elvis, Dylan, the Beatles, the Stones and more, as well as nods to the big news events of the age: the Kennedy assasination, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the Manson family among them. I know this not because I understand the lyrics; I just read the Wikipedia page.

Like all great poetry, it could mean all the above, or it could mean something completely different. When asked what it’s all about, McLean famously answered: ‘It means I don’t ever have to work again…’ When talking more seriously, he’s compared it to Impressionism. And of course, his next big single would be about a very famous (post) impressionist… Which would make #1.

At over eight and half minutes long, ‘American Pie’ initially had to be split over two sides of a 45′ record, which means people (including me) are much more familiar with the first four minutes than the latter four. In fact, listening to the pub singalong last chorus now, I’m not sure I’d ever heard it before. It is the sixth longest record to chart in the US, and held the record for the longest ever Billboard #1 until 2021.

Before I end this post, I have to give an advance trigger warning. ‘American Pie’ may not have made #1 in its original form, but a version by a certain Queen of Pop will make the top of the charts in the early 2000s. I’m someone who will defend Madonna until the cows come home, but even I might struggle to justify that particular musical decision…

Never Had a #1… Bon Jovi

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And so here we are. The final episode in our ‘Never Had a #1…’ week, and it’s the band with the biggest disparity between Top 10 hits and number ones: 18 to 0.

Bon Jovi – 18 Top 10 hits between 1986 and 2006

Interestingly, three of this week’s four acts have had remarkably similar chart careers. Depeche Mode, Janet Jackson and Bon Jovi’s Top 10s all stretch from the early-mid ’80s through to the early-mid ’00s. Why did artists from that era prove so durable? In Bon Jovi’s case it’s probably down to the fact that, of all the poodle-permed hair metal acts of the late eighties, they cut their hair just in time and recast themselves as everyman rockers. Here are their three biggest hits…

‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ – reached #4 in 1986

Once upon a time, Not so long ago… ‘Mr Brightside’, ‘Sweet Caroline’, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’… All songs I have to some extent enjoyed, once upon a time, only for them to pale, then bore, then sour from over-familiarity. ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ is possibly the ultimate overplayed anthem. It might have been good. It might still be good, for all I know. I never will know, though, for I’d rather lose a pinkie finger than ever hear it again.

‘It’s My Life’ – reached #3 in 2000

Bon Jovi’s Bon-Joviest song. Power chords and cloyingly earnest lyrics about it being ‘now or never’ and how we ‘ain’t gonna live forever’, while Jon bounces around like an excited labrador. I want to hate it, but dammit that chorus just clicks. What I notice from listening to it now is how many little nu-metal touches there are – the piano line is lifted straight from Linkin Park, for example – and how dumb the video is. Bearing in mind Bon Jovi were all pushing forty when this came out, why exactly is a teenage boy jumping off bridges and dodging oil tankers to see the old fogies rocking out in a tunnel?

‘Always’ – reached #2 in 1994

It’s a widely held fact that the moment Kurt Cobain first played the opening riff to ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’, all the hair metal acts dissolved to dust like the Nazis in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’. Except for one… Bon Jovi laughed in the face of the glam apocalypse, shook the debris from their hair, and scored their biggest ever hit with this monstrous power-ballad. I can’t argue with it. Nobody can argue with music this pompous and sincere. A giant with a sledgehammer would be more subtle than Jon Bon Jovi howling his way through ‘Always’. I will say, though, that if you’ve ever sat through someone other than JBJ trying to howl their way through this song – at your local karaoke evening, perhaps – then hell will hold no fears for you.

I’ve been a bit down on Bon Jovi, I worry. I like some of their stuff. ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ is fun, while ‘Bad Medicine’ might be the ultimate hair metal anthem. Sadly, their three biggest UK hits are all songs I would jump off bridges and dodge oil tankers to avoid…

Thanks for reading and enjoying this detour into the biggest non chart-topping acts of all time. We’ll be resuming the regular countdown in a few days time!

Never Had a #1… Janet Jackson

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Part three in this series of posts on artists with an abundance of Top 10 hits, but for whom the very top of the charts has proven elusive. Up next…

Janet Jackson – 16 Top 10 hits between 1986 and 2002

Given that she is one of the most succesful female pop stars of all time, I can’t say I’m very familiar with Janet Jackson’s discography. There’s ‘Together’ Again’, which during my first year of high school you couldn’t turn on the radio for more than five minutes without hearing, and ‘Scream’, the duet with her brother Michael, and the most expensive music video ever (at the time). Neither of these make this list…

In my head I put it down to her simply being bigger in the US than in Britain. Which is true; but which is also completely disbunked by the fact she’s featuring here as the second most succesful non-number-one-getter of all time. Why isn’t she mentioned in the same breath as Madonna, or Whitney Houston? Has her music dated more than theirs? Has she been dwarfed by her brother’s fame (and infamy)? Or is it because her right breast slipped out at a Superbowl half-time show? I’m not attempting to choose a reason here (though, sadly, it’s probably the latter), yet it is worth pondering as we count down her three biggest UK hits.

‘What Have You Done for Me Lately’ – reached #3 in 1986

Miss Jacko has several #3 hits to choose from, but I’ll go for her breakthrough smash. From the wonderfully over-acted intro, to the pounding synths and drums, it is so mid-eighties it hurts. But it also has an energy, and an aggressive beat, that pretty much drags you to the dancefloor. Not a relaxing listen, but one that ‘slaps’, as the kids might say. Interestingly, given her famous family, it took three albums and four years of flops for Janet to establish herself as a solo star with this sassy tune.

‘The Best Things in Life Are Free’ (with Luther Vandross) – reached #2 in 1992

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZdWz_q9PDk

Janet Jackson’s joint-biggest UK hit is this perfectly pleasant, if fairly forgettable, slice of mid-tempo nineties pop, with a hint of R&B. It was from the soundtrack for the movie ‘Mo’ Money’, and neither Janet nor Luther feature in the video. Instead the film’s stars Damon Wayans and Stacey Dash lip-synch along gamely.

‘That’s the Way Love Goes’ – reached #2 in 1993

From the sounds of this, Janet went down the same ultra-slick route as her big brother in the ’90s. At least she is singing, rather than clicking and squeaking her way through the song, but still. I’m trying to find something to grab on to here, but it’s all just too polished and bland. Apparently it was a shockingly sexy change of pace for her, and this record ended up with 8 (eight!) weeks at #1 in the US. I can’t see it, myself.

Much more interesting is the video, with the ginormous home sound system (I pity her neighbours) and actual J-Lo (!), back when she was plain old Jennifer Lopez. Anyway this ended up as Jackson’s (joint) biggest UK hit, but it hasn’t given me much of an urge to do a deep-dive into her discography.

Tomorrow, we’ll wrap this series up by featuring the biggest band never to make number one. Yes, we are significantly more than halfway there…

Should Have Been a #1…? ‘Fairytale of New York’, by The Pogues ft. Kirsty MacColl

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Back in the good old days, before Spotify and Alexa turned the December charts into a Christmas nightmare, back when you had to actually download (or even physically purchase! from a shop!) a song to get it into the charts, there were three hardy festive perennials that returned, year after year… Mariah and Wham! have since streamed their way to becoming belated chart-toppers, leaving behind ‘Fairytale of New York’ as the biggest Christmas song never to have made #1.

Fairytale of New York, by The Pogues ft. Kirsty MacColl – reached #2 in 1987, behind ‘Always on My Mind’

And I have to admit… It’s never been my favourite Christmas tune. For a while, in the ’90s and early ’00s, it was the edgelord’s choice of Xmas tune. Swearing, Shane McGowan’s teeth, no sleigh bells in sight… blah blah blah. You’re a bum, You’re a punk, You’re an old slut on junk… I was put off it for this reason. I enjoyed Mariah, Wizzard and Slade because Christmas music was meant to be upbeat, cheesy and unashamedly fun. Until, as I mentioned, streaming came along and listening to Michael Buble suddenly became mandatory, and ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ became so overplayed that I would happily lose a finger (I mean, you could live without a pinkie…) if it meant I never had to hear it again.

(I suppose I also have to mention that it is now a bona-fide festive tradition for there to be a furore over the fact that ‘Fairytale of New York’ contains the F-word. (But not that F-word.) What version is Radio 1 playing? Radio 2? What does Piers Morgan have to say about it? Who is most purple in the face with outrage this year?? The songwriters claim that ‘faggot’ was being used as Irish slang for a lazy person – which is much more conducive to the theme of the song than accusing the male lead of being gay – but as early as 1992 Kirsty MacColl was changing it to ‘haggard’ in live performances. For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was intended as a homophobic slur in 1987, but at the same time it’s probably not OK to be broadcasting that word on national radio in 2022.)

And yet, despite the growing controversy around the song (which means it probably will never make #1 now) I’ve actually grown to enjoy it more as the years progress. Perhaps it’s the ultimate middle-aged Christmas song: a tale of two over-the-hill drunkards, bawling at one another, blaming each other for all their ills, all the while hoping that this Christmas will be their last… Their last together? Their last, ever? It peaks when Shane McGowan groans I could have been someone… and MacColl replies with Well so could anyone… and you feel nothing but sympathy for these two sad junkies. Suddenly Shaky, Mariah and Slade sound trite and tacky.

I couldn’t listen to it too many times a year – to be honest most of the Christmas music I hear is forced on me in shops and bars – but it would have been a worthy Number One. I’ll leave you with the video below, and wish all my readers a merry Christmas (and a much happier one than the protagonists of this song enjoy!) I’ll be back before the new year, resuming the regular countdown.

Random Runners-Up: ‘Move It’, by Cliff Richard & The Drifters

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Our final #2 of the week, and it’s back to the fifties. To a man we’ve met plenty of times before on these very pages…

‘Move It’, by Cliff Richard & The Drifters

#2 for 1 week, from 24th-31st Oct 1958, behind ‘Stupid Cupid’ / ‘Carolina Moon’

Cliff Richard, in 1958, was Britain’s answer to Elvis. That’s both true, and unfair. True, because he was young, good-looking, and extravagantly quiffed. And unfair, because nobody comes out well from a comparison with Elvis.

This was Cliff’s debut single, his first of sixty-eight (68!) Top 10 hits in the UK, over the course of fifty years. And if you are of a slightly snide disposition – and aren’t we all, sometimes – one could argue that this was the only true rock ‘n’ roll record from Britain’s great rock ‘n’ roll hope.

And it does rock. The opening refrain is great, reminiscent of Buddy Holly, and the purring, driving riff that succeeds it sounds genuinely exciting, almost punk-ish in its simplicity. In the autumn of 1958, it must have been thrilling to hear this growling out of some jukebox speakers, and knowing that the singer was from a London suburb, rather than Memphis.

The lyrics are pretty nonsensical, as all the best rock ‘n’ roll lyrics are… C’mon pretty baby let’s a-move it and a-groove it… while The Drifters sound the equal of any American group. (They wouldn’t become The Shadows until 1959, by which point they had accompanied Cliff on his first of many easy-listening #1s, ‘Living Doll’.)

The one thing that doesn’t quite sell this for me is Cliff himself… He just sounds a bit too nice. And I don’t know if that’s because I can’t seperate the goody-goody, God-bothering, Centre Court-serenading Cliff Richard from the eighteen-year-old version. Still, imagine Elvis mumbling and grunting his way through this…

As I referred to above, Cliff would go on to enjoy some reasonable success over the ensuing decades… I wonder if anyone who bought ‘Move It’ in October 1958 imagined that this hot young rocker would still be touring and recording in 2022, well into his ninth decade… As uncool as he is, I can’t bring myself to dislike Sir Clifford of Richard: he’s a bona-fide pop legend. I can’t say I’m looking forward to reviewing any of his three remaining #1s, though, but that’s a story for another day…

I hope you’ve enjoyed random runners-up week. The regular countdown will resume over the weekend, picking up in the summer of ’86…