Our next guest post comes from another long-time follower, who joined our journey sometime around the late 1950s. Max (aka Badfinger) blogs on music and pop culture at powerpop.blog, and has kept up with our wanderings through the charts even though we left his preferred ’60s and ’70s eras behind a while back. Today he’s writing about a lost hit from that time, and how it highlights the differences between the charts on either side of the Atlantic…
When I was growing up, my sister had this single. It was cracked, so she taped the B-side with scotch tape, and I would listen to it over and over. Of course, it went like “Crimson and Clov-CLICK-er.” But I didn’t care; it was a great song to me even with the hideous CLICK.
Now to the subject of the post. I’ve always been fascinated by how some bands could be huge in one country and barely make a dent in another. In America, we missed out on a lot of British acts like T. Rex, Status Quo, and Slade. At the same time, the UK never fully embraced some major American artists such as CCR, Bob Seger, and Grand Funk Railroad. They were certainly known there, but they never enjoyed the kind of success they had back home. I always wondered about that in bands and songs.
While I was writing up this song up a few years ago and typing out the chart position of it, I was shocked when I saw a blank in the UK chart position. I thought the source was wrong, so I emailed Stewart; no dice, it didn’t chart. This song is one of those records that proves the charts don’t always make sense. Tommy James and the Shondells were no strangers to success in the UK. ‘Mony Mony‘ had reached No. 1 there. But when it was released in early 1969, it failed to chart at all.
Part of the problem may have been that the song was unlike anything else on the radio at the time. It moved at a slower pace at mid-tempo. The tremolo effects on Tommy James’ voice and guitar gave it a dreamy sound. American audiences loved it. British listeners may have found it a little too different, bubblegum, or old hat. The UK music scene was changing quickly in 1969. Harder rock bands and progressive groups were starting to get more attention.
There is also the possibility that the record simply did not receive the promotion it needed. Maybe ‘Crimson and Clover’ (released January 1969) came too close after ‘Mony Mony’ (March 1968). Tommy James was always a bigger act in the United States and Canada than in Britain. In those days, radio play and television appearances could make a huge difference. If a record was not pushed hard enough, a song could get lost among dozens of new releases arriving every week. Of course, there was always the opposite, such as Ian Dury and the Blockheads, ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’, and many others that hit number 1 in the UK and did nothing here.
Just so everyone knows, I’m not knocking the UK for it not charting. It’s just amazing to me, though, how one song can be so big in one country and flop in the other…either way! Whatever the reason, Joan Jett actually charted Crimson and Clover in 1982 at #60 in the UK, and her version peaked at #7 in America and #4 in Canada. At least it made an appearance in the UK Charts!
Thanks again, Max. Everyone else be sure to check out his blogs, through which I’ve discovered so many songs over the years. And don’t forget to vote for the Best and Worst #1s! Results out on Sunday!
Welcome to the first of a week of guest posts to celebrate reaching our 1000th number one. First up, long-time follower John Van der Kiste gets things underway with an ode to an unruly, and perhaps unlucky, classic from the Stones…
When is a No. 1 not a No. 1? When it’s so controversial that mainstream retailers won’t stock it, and we argue that sales figures were ‘adjusted’ that week to keep it at No. 2? Or, when the Official Charts Company say no while the music press Top 30s suggest otherwise? That was the fate of The Rolling Stones’ ‘19th Nervous Breakdown’.
In the New Musical Express and Melody Maker charts, it enjoyed three weeks in pole position from 19th February 1966. Ditto for BBC TV’s Top of the Pops, which then based its weekly Top 20 on samplings from these and the other music weeklies, Record Mirror and Disc. The OCC, which has the Record Retailer Top 50 charts as its source from 1960 to 1969, made it No. 2 for those three weeks, with Nancy Sinatra’s ‘These Boots Are Made For Walkin’, walkin’ all over them at No. 1. Otherwise it would have given the band seven consecutive chart-toppers between July 1964 and May 1966.
It was written on their autumn 1965 American tour and recorded in December at RCA Studios, California, its title apparently inspired by an exhausted Mick Jagger saying he was about ready for his nineteenth nervous breakdown. As usual he wrote the lyrics, Keith Richards provided the music. However it’s not about work-related stress, but a poor little rich girl who was given everything by her parents, a mother who owed a million dollars tax and a father still perfecting ways of making sealing wax. She had a thousand toys, but still she cried all night. Jagger was moving in high society circles with glamorous girls ready to meet England’s most rebellious rock star if they could, and like Ray Davies of The Kinks, he was happy to satirise them mercilessly. He also sneaked in a subtle drugs reference, maybe to see if it got past the moral guardians: On our first trip I tried so hard to rearrange your mind… Radio and TV missed that.
There are some wonderful musical touches too, like when Brian Jones’ guitar borrows a distinctive lick from Bo Diddley’s ‘Diddley Daddy’, a 1955 American single. Towards the fade, Bill Wyman supplies that notable bass run. ‘I bounced the string with the top of my finger on the pickup, and ran my finger down the string,’ he said. ‘That’s what created that so-called dive-bombing sound.’ Not to mention a guitar fuzz tone on the riff before each chorus, or the sweet and sour vocal harmonies, or Charlie Watts’ superb drum fills and cymbal beats.
Had it not been for The Animals’ ‘House of the Rising Sun’ (4.29) in 1964, at 3.50 this would have been the longest UK No. 1 in terms of playing time until superseded a year later by Procol Harum’s ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’.
Because it wasn’t an ‘official’ No. 1, it seems to have flown a little below the radar on radio playlists. Perhaps it remains that bit more fresh for not having been aired so often as the band’s chart-toppers.
John has recently published a book in the Rock Classics Series on the Stones’ Let it Bleed album, plus an On Track title about Gerry Rafferty, with an On Track on Bob Seger, currently being edited and due for publication in July – all three through Sonicbond.
Don’t forget to vote for your best and worst number ones! I’ll publish the results on Sunday…
Time for another look back at some famous moments in music history, and the chart-topping hits that go along with them…
Starting with a birth and a death. March 20th 2020 saw the passing of country icon Kenny Rogers, who had managed two UK number ones in the late seventies and early eighties. Both songs were slightly out-of-kilter for the disco, punk and new-wave sounds of the time, but if listening to every single number one single has taught me anything, it’s that country and western (and reggae) are immune to popular tastes, and keep popping up time and again.
Here’s his first chart-topper, ‘Lucille’ (original post here), about a man who meets a downtrodden woman drowning her sorrows. I am a fan of a good opening line, and there have been few finer than In a bar in Toledo, Across from the depot, On a barstool she took off her ring…
Over a century before, March 20th 1917 saw the birth of Vera Lynn. A legendary name in British popular music, she began performing aged seven, released her first single in 1935 (aged eighteen), and scored her final Top 10 album in 2017 (aged one-hundred), giving her a career spanning ninety-six years! Despite this astounding longevity, Lynn only managed one UK #1: ‘My Son, My Son’ (original post here).
I won’t claim to particularly enjoy this very old-fashioned record, but Dame Vera doesn’t half sing the life out of it. And you can really make out what she’s singing, something my dear departed Gran was very particular about. Plus, I think it prominently features a clarinet, something not many other #1s have. I also did a Remembering post on Lynn, when she died in 2020.
Meanwhile, on this day in 1991, Michael Jackson signed what was the biggest record contract in history, with Sony. Both the advance, and his share of future record profits, were beyond anything seen before. You can see why the execs went out their way to keep hold of Jackson, given that his previous LPs, ‘Thriller’ and ‘Bad’, had been two of the highest sellers of all time. But you can also argue that this was the start of Jackson’s slow slide into creative inertia and over-indulgence, as little of his nineties output can rival that of his eighties hits. Still, here’s ‘Black and White’ the first single from the first album to be released under the new contract, ‘Dangerous’ (original post here).
March 20th 1969 was also the day on which John Lennon married Yoko Ono at the British Consulate in Gibraltar (near Spain), before heading to the Amsterdam Hilton and talking in their beds for a week… Of course, these are not my own words, and so why don’t we let ‘The Ballad of John and Yoko’ tell the full story. This seemed for a long, long time to have been the Beatles’ final number one (though it famously only features John and Paul), until ‘Now and Then’ in 2023 (original post here).
Lastly, on this day in 1977, T. Rex played their final British concert at the Locarno in Portsmouth. Their final ever live appearance would come a couple of months later in Stockholm, and three months after that Marc Bolan would die in a car crash. Neatly bookmarking T. Rex’s career, though, is the fact that ‘Hot Love’ was two weeks into a six-week residence on top of the charts on this day in 1971 (see original post here). Whether or not it was indeed the first glam rock #1 is up for debate. What is not up for debate is the song’s audacity (half of it is just nanananas), or its brilliance.
That one goes out to all those who are faster than most and who live on the coast… Regular posting resumes in a few days!
Time for another look back at a date in chart history. What were the songs and the stories at number one on December 6th through the years…
On this day in 1980, ABBA were about to begin their thirty-first and final week on top of the UK singles chart with ‘Super Trouper’. My favourite ABBA chart-topper probably changes on a weekly basis, and I could make a case for all of them (apart from ‘Fernando’, sorry). ‘Super Trouper’ is a late-era classic, with that perfect balance of upbeat melancholoy. Songs about how tiring it is being famous can be, well, tiring; but this is a colossus of the genre. I was sick and tired of everything, When I called you last night from Glasgow… is a quintessential ABBA opening line: slightly odd, poetic, beautifully to the point.
Eleven years earlier, on this day in 1969, the Rolling Stones headlined the infamous Altamont Free Concert in California. Supposed to be the West Coast’s answer to Woodstock, it ended up becoming synonymous with the end of the swinging sixties and the death of the hippy dream. Violence which had been brewing throughout the day erupted during the Stones’ delayed set, and ended in the death of an eighteen year old spectator, Meredith Hunter, stabbed by one of the Hells Angels who had been brought in as security.
The Stones are perhaps the perfect band to encapsulate that loss of ’60s innocence, as they had never been particularly innocent, and had struggled with the psychedelic, hippy side of things. Also, they’re the sixties juggernaut that has lasted, and lasted, and lasted, far beyond the decade that birthed them… Here then is their big hit from earlier that year, their final UK #1, and perhaps the ultimate rock and roll tune, ‘Honky Tonk Women’.
In recent posts I’ve been bemoaning/celebrating the end of the Golden Era of the Boyband, which I think came to an end in late 2002. There are arguments to be had for boybands dating back to the fifties, with the likes of the Teenagers, or to the Monkees in the sixties. New Edition in 1983 and Bros in 1988 could lay claim to being the first modern boyband, but for my money the true holders of that title, and the openers of the floodgates, were New Kids on the Block. Who just so happened to be sitting at #1 on this day in 1989 with ‘You Got It (The Right Stuff)’. They were the first of twelve boybands (fourteen, if we bend my rules and count Hanson and Blazin’ Squad) to provide forty (or forty-two) #1s over thirteen years…
Let’s go way back now, sixty-seven years to be exact. Number one on this day in 1958 is what I called ‘the Scottish #1’ at the time, and which I still intend to make our national anthem when I become First Minister, replacing the dirge that is ‘Flower of Scotland’. The fifties was at times a musical desert, strewn with overwrought ballads, and the occasional rock ‘n’ roll tune. Then there were the novelties. So many novelties. Of which ‘Hoots Mon’ stands out as one of the finest. It’s got a wonderful rock ‘n’ roll energy, but it’s also a relic of a much earlier music hall era, with its singalong spirit and its Hammond organ. It’s based on an old folk tune, ‘A Hundred Pipers’, and features classic phrases such as ‘och aye’, ‘there’s a moose loose aboot this hoose’ and ‘it’s a braw, bricht, moonlicht nicht’, none of which a Scotsperson has ever actually uttered.
Finally, 6th December is perhaps best known as a date in music history for being the anniversary of Roy Orbison’s untimely death. In 1988, Orbison was just getting his career back on track through the success of the Travelling Wilburys, his supergroup alongside George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne and Tom Petty, whose first album had been released earlier that year. Orbison had also just put the finishing touches to his first solo album in a decade, when he died suddenly, of a heart attack. The album ‘Mystery Girl’, and the lead single ‘You Got It’, posthumously returned him to the Top 10 the following year. But to celebrate his genius, let’s go back to 1960, and enjoy his first of three UK #1s: the hauntingly dramatic ‘Only the Lonely’.
Earlier this week the sad news of Connie Francis’ death was announced, aged eighty-seven, closing the door on yet another chapter from the earliest chart years. There can’t be many, if any, older chart-toppers than Francis still around… And there were precious few women, either, who were scoring rock ‘n’ roll hits and competing with the big male stars of the late fifties.
Francis scored two huge, six-weeks-apiece #1s in 1958, the sassy ‘Who’s Sorry Now’ and the whipcracking ‘Stupid Cupid’ (twinned with ‘Carolina Moon’). I also covered her 1960 hits ‘Mama’ and ‘Robot Man’ as a Random Runner-Up. Follow those links to hear those tunes, and to read my original posts. But since writing those posts – and this has been one of the best things about doing this blog, discovering artists’ non-chart topping back catalogues – I’ve fallen in love with many of Connie’s other hits. So let’s share some here, in her memory.
‘Lipstick on Your Collar’ – #3 in 1959
I love the camp melodrama of this bop, about a cheating boy given away by lipstick smudges. How does Connie know the lipstick isn’t hers? Well, eagle-eyed, she notices his is red, while hers is baby pink. Coleen Rooney eat your heart out. Turns out that floozy Mary Jane had been smooching her man right outside the juke joint. But, as with so many of her early records, Connie does not wallow in heartbreak. In fact, she seems almost thrilled to have rumbled him…
‘Plenty Good Lovin” – #18 in 1959
A similarly uptempo, more swinging, hit from the same year. And this one is positively raunchy by 1959 standards. In fact, I’m not sure Connie isn’t simulating orgasm during the break in the middle… She sings the praises of a man who doesn’t have a nice car, can’t play guitar, is neither intelligent nor particularly good-looking, but who’s got somethin’ that’s better by far… I mean, gurrrrlllll… Plenty of things that he don’t know, But this boy shines when the lights are low…
‘Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool’ – #3 in 1960
Her first US #1, and in fact the first Billboard Hot 100 number one by a female singer (the chart having launched well over a year earlier). Which just goes to prove how impressive Francis’s hit making was, stacked against the likes of Elvis, Pat Boone, Ricky Nelson and co. I love the honky-tonk feel to this, with the rolling organ and the rickety, country beat, and her voice drenched in echo.
‘Where the Boys Are’ – #5 in 1961
Francis made her acting debut in 1961, in the movie ‘Where the Boys Are’. And the title track gave her another big hit, proving that she could sing something a little more traditional to go along with all the rock ‘n’ roll. In 1978, as she was attempting a career comeback, Connie recorded a disco version. If that doesn’t grab you, how about a Japanese version? Today’s female stars could only dream of such versatility.
‘Vacation’ – #10 in 1962
Despite not having an original bone in its body, and already sounding dated in 1962, I love this throwaway tune. ‘Vacation’ was Francis’s last Top 10 hit in both the US and the UK, as the Merseybeat acts prepared to render so many stars obsolete. But it’s hard not to get carried along with this record’s exuberance. Maybe because I’m an English teacher in my day job, I’m instinctively drawn to songs that spell words out in the lyrics. Similarly, it’s probably why I’m drawn to songs about the summer holidays. So this one works for me on many levels.
‘Pretty Little Baby’
It would be wrong to finish without mentioning her final ‘hit’. ‘Pretty Little Baby’ was a B-side back in 1962, but in recent months you’ll surely have heard it if you’ve spent any amount of time scrolling on Instagram or TikTok. In one of her final interviews, Francis claimed to have forgotten of the song’s existence, but that she was touched by its resurgence, and how even kindergartners now know her music. Back to teaching for a moment, I can attest to this as I have a student who has been singing this to himself for several months now… Musically this is cute, and I love whatever early electronic device the solo was recorded on.
From the mid-sixties onwards the hits dried up, and Connie Francis’s personal life took several dark turns. The Guardian published a good article on her many highs and lows yesterday, and she became an advocate for mental health following various traumatic experiences. Having read that, it feels impressive that she lived such a long life and fulfilled life. She returned to music, and only officially retired a few years ago.
Connie Francis, December 12th 1937 – July 16th 2025
Tomorrow marks that one day of the year in which Europe (plus some countries technically in Asia, and Australia for some reason) comes together to celebrate the joys of music. Or at least to celebrate the joys of cheesy riffs, simplistic lyrics, unhinged dance routines, and a whole load of camp. Yes, it’s the…
Held every year since 1956 (2020 excepted, thanks to COVID), Eurovision was invented through collaboration between seven nations’ broadcasting corporations, as a means of testing out the capacities of live broadcasting. The first contest featured just those seven – France, Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, West Germany, Luxembourg and the Netherlands – and was won by the Swiss. The UK made their first appearance the following year, when a public vote was brought in to help decide the winning song. Ever since then there have been plenty of complaints about political voting (usually from us Brits, when nobody gives us any points) with neighbouring countries, and nations with a shared ethnicity, trading points based perhaps more on kinship rather than on musical quality.
A maximum of forty-four countries can enter – qualifiers were introduced in the 1990s – and as of 2024, twenty-seven different nations have won the contest. Sweden and Ireland have the most wins with seven, and Britain holds the record for finishing second. Norway, meanwhile, holds the record for finishing last, and has ended with the dreaded nul points four times.
Eurovision is famous for launching the careers of ABBA, who won with ‘Waterloo’ in 1974, but it has also played a part in helping Celine Dion, Julio Iglesias, and Olivia Newton-John become world famous. Other legends to take part include Sandie Shaw, Cliff, Lulu, Bonnie Tyler, Engelbert Humperdinck, Nana Mouskouri and, um, Flo Rida. And of course we’ve already met plenty of Eurovision number ones during our chart-topping journey… Who could forget Dana, Brotherhood of Man, Bucks Fizz, Nicole, Johnny Logan, or Gina G…?
Part of the reason why I chose to do this post now is that in the 21st century there have been no further Eurovision chart-toppers. Plenty of songs have gone close, but none have made it to the top. And so, having covered all the Eurovision #1s in the regular blog, it’s time to check out the Best of the Rest. I’m only counting songs that made the UK Top 10, and have whittled a thirty-odd longlist down to ten.
‘Volare’, by Domenico Modugno (3rd place for Italy in 1958)
Probably rivalling ‘Waterloo’ as Eurovision’s most famous song, this was the first big Eurovision hit, making #10 in the UK and top spot in the States (it remains the only Eurovision chart-topper on the Billboard 100). Dean Martin’s version is now perhaps more popular, of the hundreds that have since been recorded, but this was the original. Ubiquity has not, and seemingly cannot, dull the laidback coolness of this classic.
‘Boom Bang-a-Bang’, by Lulu (joint 1st place for the UK in 1969)
Och, if it isn’t lovely wee Lulu. Nonsense song titles have long been a Eurovision cliché, and you have to think ‘Boom Bang-a-Bang’ helped in that. (We’ve since had winners titled ‘Ding-a-Dong’, ‘A-Ba-Ni-Bi’ and ‘Diggi-Loo Diggi-Ley’.) If it were just the verses, this wouldn’t have stood a chance of making the list, as they make Sandie Shaw’s ‘Puppet on a String’ sound subtle. But it is in that nonsense chorus that the song soars. Watch the performance above, and marvel at Lulu – the consumate performer that she is – selling the living daylights out of this tosh. She dragged it to a joint first place finish (the only time there’s ever been a tie) and to #2 in the charts. The contest was held in Madrid that year, and in true Brits-abroad fashion Lulu finishes her performance with a big ‘Olé!’ Who says we don’t try to learn the local languages…?
‘Jack in the Box’, by Clodagh Rodgers (4th place for the UK in 1971)
Lyrically this is ‘Puppet on a String’ Pt II – I’m just your Jack-in-the-Box, You know whenever love knocks, I’m gonna bounce up and down on my spring – and musically it’s not a million miles from ‘Boom Bang-a-Bang’. It didn’t do as well as either of those earlier entries (4th place in the contest, #4 in the charts) but I’d argue it’s a better song than both. Especially when, in the best music hall fashion, things slow down for a big, showstopping final chorus. Clodagh Rodgers, from Northern Ireland, received death threats from the IRA for representing the UK. (Interestingly, the year before Ireland had won through London-born Dana.) This was Rodgers’ third and final UK Top 10 hit. She sadly died just a few weeks ago, in April 2025, aged seventy-eight.
‘Beg, Steal or Borrow’, by The New Seekers (2nd place for the UK in 1972)
Going by my choices, the late-sixties to early-seventies was the golden age of British entries at Eurovision. A world away from the British acts that were setting the standard and pushing the envelope in those days when pop music was developing at a heady pace; it was a world of bubblegum, easy-listening, and schlager. Which was a wise choice, and why so many of those entries placed very high, such as this runner-up performance from 1972. (Pink Floyd probably wouldn’t have done well at Eurovision…) But representing the UK were acts that, while not the avant-garde, were still very famous names: Cliff, Lulu, Sandie Shaw, Clodagh Rodgers, and the New Seekers above. Going to Eurovision was seen as a big thing, a beneficial thing, whereas in the 21st century it is the reserve of the has-been, or of the unknown act looking for any sort of break they can get. Anyway, ‘Beg, Steal or Borrow’ is perfectly decent pop – better than the New Seekers’ saccharine Coca-Cola anthem, but not as good as their sadly forgotten second chart-topper.
‘Go’, by Gigliola Cinquetti (2nd place for Italy in 1974)
A case of right song, wrong time, as Gigliola Cinquetti’s gloriously sultry ballad came up against ABBA’s ‘Waterloo’. Still, it made the Top 10 in the UK (re-recorded in English, which means that I’m not technically choosing the Eurovision version, but hey ho…) The original has exactly the same melody and instrumentation, but is entitled ‘Sí’, which means ‘Yes’. Cinquetti had actually won the contest a decade before, aged sixteen, with a song entitled ‘Non ho l’etá’ (‘I’m Not Old Enough’), meaning she came close to becoming the first act to win Eurovision twice. In Italy, the song’s title caused drama as the contest coincided with a referendum on making divorce illegal (it having just been legalised a few years earlier) and authorities believed that a song featuring the word ‘yes’ sixteen times might subliminally influence the vote… Even the contest itself wasn’t broadcast in Italy until a month afterwards. In the end the divorce laws stayed, and Cinquetti also went on to host the contest in the 1990s.
‘Love Shine a Light’, by Katrina & the Waves (1st place for the UK in 1997)
It would be remiss of me not to include the song that last won the contest for Britain, almost thirty (30!) years ago now. ‘Love Shine a Light’ manages – just about – to straddle the line between genuinely inspiring and sentimental schmaltz (a battle that Eurovision songwriters have been waging ever since 1956). It provided an unexpected career coda for Katrina & the Waves, who had struggled for a follow up hit ever since their 1985 breakthrough ‘Walking on Sunshine’. ‘Love Shine a Light’ peaked at #3, beating even ‘Walking on Sunshine’, but the band split the following year.
You may have noticed a twenty-three year gap between our last two entries, after a run of sixties and seventies hits. There weren’t that many Top 10 hits from Eurovision in the eighties (apart from those that went all the way to #1), and I doubt many people could name any of the winners between Bucks Fizz and Katrina & the Waves.
‘Flying the Flag’ by Scooch (22nd place for the UK in 2007)
Making Steps look like the Velvet Underground, it’s Scooch! There are compelling arguments for this being Britain’s worst ever Eurovision entry, and I get it, I do… But I will never not enjoy this psychopathically tacky number. It’s too much, really, to even have been considered as a parody of a Eurovision entry; and yet we actually sent this to Helsinki in 2007. Where it finished joint second-last, with a grand total of nineteen points. The flying theme is taken to the extreme, with plenty of European capitals name-checked, and an impressive attempt to sexualise a pre-flight safety demonstration. One of the band’s job is solely to make saucy spoken asides ‘in character’ as a gay flight attendant, culminating in him making the lascivious offer to the captain: Would you like something to suck on for landing, Sir…? Whether it went over the heads (pun intended) of the audience I do not know, I’m just forever grateful that it happened. It seems to have been viewed more fondly in its home country, as the British public sent it flying all the way to #5 in the charts.
‘Calm After the Storm’, by the Common Linnets (2nd place for the Netherlands in 2014)
A much more sedate number now, from a Dutch country rock duo. This doesn’t tick any of the typical Eurovision boxes, and yet it’s a lovely, atmospheric ballad. The band had only formed the year before entering the contest, and ‘Calm After the Storm’ was their first release. Interestingly, this was only the 4th non-winning, non-British entry to enter the Top 10 (after ‘Volare’, and ‘Go’, and another Dutch entry from 1975), reaching #9.
‘Space Man’, by Sam Ryder (2nd place for the UK in 2022)
After years in the Eurovision doldrums, of Jemini (nul points), Scooch, Engelbert Humperdinck, and Blue, Britain finally finished strongly in 2022. (We probably would have won, had Ukraine not had the goodwill of the continent behind them.) For years people had claimed that it was all political: that Britain placed low because of Iraq, Brexit, and because we make such obnoxious tourists. But as it turns out, all we needed do was to enter a half decent song! ‘Space Man’ is a strong pop-rock single, that felt like we were finally taking the contest seriously again. I find Sam Ryder to be fairly irritating (I’ve seen him described as a golden retriever in human form, and am still unsure as to why that is a compliment) but I seem to be in the minority. ‘Space Man’ came agonisingly close to being the first Eurovision chart-topper in twenty-five years, only to be be beaten at the last by Harry Styles. Sadly, in the two contests since ‘Space Man’, the United Kingdom has reverted back to type and placed fairly low. Hopes are mixed, then, for Remember Monday this year.
‘Cha Cha Cha’, by Käärijä (2nd place for Finland in 2023)
The first and so far only song sung in Finnish to make the UK Top 10, we end our run down with ‘Cha Cha Cha’. And this, really, is what Eurovision is all about: it’s loud, brash, chaotic, camp. Terrible, and yet brilliant. A metal-dance-pop fusion, featuring a dance routine in which Käärijä rides his backing dancers while they do the human centipede. The song is apparently about getting drunk, specifically on pina coladas. But you don’t really need to understand the lyrics. The charm of this song, and of Eurovision in general, is getting behind songs you don’t understand, by artists you’ve never heard of, and celebrating being part of the smallest but most culturally diverse continent on the planet.
I’m revamping the ‘Random Runners-Up’ feature. From this post on, you’ll be getting three tunes for the price of one. All of them sitting at number two on a specific date. All of them still – hand on heart – chosen completely at random. Starting with…
A good old-fashioned novelty. With emphasis on the ‘old-fashioned’ bit, because we had definitely dropped the ‘Simple’ by the time I was playing Simon Says in the late eighties. Let’s not get all self-righteous, though, as this is fun slice of late-sixties pop: a nicely judged blend of bubblegum and garage rock. Not something I’d add to a playlist, but an undeniably catchy way to spend two minutes.
It’s also sent me down the rabbit hole of discovering who Simon was, and apparently it goes back to Simon de Montford, Earl of Leicester in the 13th century, or perhaps even Cicero in ancient Rome, which sounds sort of like ‘Simon’. The ‘simple’ came, perhaps, from an 18th century London begging ‘simpleton’ named Simon Edy. It’s a shame this never got to number one, really, as that’s a fairly unique backstory. As for the 1910 Fruitgum Company, they were one-hit wonders in the UK, but remained popular for a while longer in their native US. They reformed in 1999, and Wikipedia lists over thirty past and present members of the band.
‘Back Off Boogaloo’, by Ringo Starr #2 for 2 weeks in 1972, behind ‘Amazing Grace’
Ringo is, of course, the only Beatle not to manage a solo UK #1. The Victoria Beckham of his day, as it were. But oh, if only. If only this glam rock stomper had managed to outsell the bagpipes and drums of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. I’m not exaggerating, but this would probably have been my favourite ex-Beatle number one. Yes, ahead of ‘My Sweet Lord’. Yes, ahead of ‘Imagine’.
The lore surrounding this song is legendary. George Harrison co-wrote it, and played slide guitar on it. The bizarre video, in which Ringo is followed around by a Frankenstein’s monster, was filmed in John Lennon’s garden. The ‘boogaloo’ is Marc Bolan, who Starr was making a movie about (‘Born to Boogie’) at the same time. The line give me something tasty was inspired by none other than Jimmy Hill, he of the legendary chin, who often used ‘tasty’ to describe a piece of footballing skill. My favourite fact, though, is that Starr offered the song to Cilla Black, who turned it down. I would give good, good money to hear Cilla’s interpretation… One thing that Ringo has denied is that the nasty ‘boogaloo’ is Paul McCartney, with whom he was wasn’t on the best of terms at the time.
‘Opposites Attract’, by Paula Abdul & The Wild Pair #2 for 1 week in 1990, behind ‘Vogue’
Number two on this day thirty-five years ago, a perfect example of early-nineties synth-funk, with a healthy splash of new jack swing. Paula Abdul never came close to replicating her US success in Britain (this was her fourth of six Billboard #1s in a row). But we chose the best song to become her biggest hit, as this is gloriously catchy.
The video is a treat too, and pretty impressive from a technical point of view, as Paula dances, frolics, and at one point strangles, a cartoon cat (MC Skat Kat). The raps and male vocals are provided by the Wild Pair, regular backing vocalists for Abdul. And it would be remiss not to include a link to Peter Griffin’s famous interpretation of the song too.
It’s time for part two of our semi-regular B-sides feature. My first was on Oasis, the band perhaps most famous for the quality of their B-sides. For my second I’m turning to one of the great chart-topping singles…
‘Space Oddity’ was David Bowie’s first chart hit, and his first number one. Not at the same time, however. It made #5 on its first release in 1969, tying in with the Apollo 11 moon landing, before belatedly making #1 six years later, after a re-release. (Read my original post here.)
For the 1975 rerelease, another old tune was chosen as the first B-side. ‘Changes’ had featured on Bowie’s 1971 album ‘Hunky Dory’, but had flopped completely as a single in early 1972. (Amazingly, Bowie had been looking like a one-hit wonder following the original ‘Space Oddity’, and had to wait until his Ziggy Stardust era for another hit.)
Despite now being one of his signature songs, you can kind of see why ‘Changes’ failed to catch on at the time. What exactly is it? Is it glam? Is it jazz? The chorus and the middle-eight are great power pop. It’s listed as ‘Art-pop’, but then that sounds like the sort of genre given to songs that nobody can quite place.
The second 1975 B-side was an offcut from the Ziggy Stardust sessions, ‘Velvet Goldmine’. Testament to the depth of Bowie’s career, this is another now-classic that went unnoticed at the time. Bouncy, theatrical and fruity, with a brilliant humming-slash-whistling outro that reminds me of Lee Marvin’s ‘Wand’rin Star’. Unlike ‘Wand’rin Star’, however, this is an ode to blowjobs: I had to ravish your capsule, Suck you dry… The song is now so well-respected in the annals of glam that it lent its name to the 1998 movie ‘Velvet Goldmine’, about a fictional glam-rock star.
A bonus for you here, as ‘Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud’ was the B-side to the original 1969 release of ‘Space Oddity’. It’s an epic tale about… something. When I reluctantly admit that I’m not a fully paid up member of the Bowie fanclub, it’s songs like this that have put me off. This single version is quite sparse – just a guitar and some trings – but he re-recorded it for his eponymous second album, with an orchestra, and that version has an appealing grandeur about it. (I’m still not sure what it’s about, though…)
It’s been a while since I did a ‘Remembering’ post, so here’s two for the price of one. Two big stars of the pre-Beatles age, both of whom died within a couple of weeks in February 1990.
Before starting this blog, I knew Johnnie Ray by name and not much else. He after all is referenced in the opening line of ‘Come On Eileen’ (Poor old Johnnie Ray…) But I will now be forever grateful to him, for making the earliest years of the charts bearable, when it sometimes felt like one po-faced ballad after another, after another. His first #1 was the incredibly steamy (by 1954 standards) ‘Such a Night’, and he had a seven-week run with the whistle-tastic ‘Just Walkin’ in the Rain’ before ending things with the zippy ‘Yes Tonight, Josephine’. All three are well worth a listen if you’ve not heard them before, and proof that pop music could be fun in the prehistoric era. Below I’ll highlight a few of my other favourites of his.
Released in 1951, before Britain even had a singles chart, we can assume that ‘Cry’ would have been a multi-week number one. The missing link between Sinatra and Elvis, Ray’s wonderfully histrionic performance shows why he was known as the ‘Nabob of Sob’ and the ‘Prince of Wails’, surely two of pop music’s best nicknames. His exaggerated, stagey way of singing may have been linked to the fact that he was partially deaf.
‘Ain’t Misbehavin’ is a standard, recorded by everyone from Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald, to Robson & Jerome. And while I’ll admit to not having heard every version, I’d suggest that you’d struggle to find a performance more committed than Johnnie Ray’s. The man was the epitome of the phrase ‘sing it for the back row’.
Fond of a whistle, Ray made #10 with ‘You Don’t Owe Me A Thing’ in early 1958, a perfect example of how rock ‘n’ roll was making its presence felt in records that weren’t actually rock songs.
By the early 1960s, like so many fifties stars, Ray’s career had tailed off. It’s surprising that he managed to have a career in the first place, after he was arrested for soliciting an undercover policeman in a public toilet in 1951. Rumours about Ray’s sexuality continued, but didn’t seem to harm his sales until another arrest in 1959. He was openly bisexual to many in the music industry, and married a woman named Marilyn Morrison in 1952, who claimed she would ‘straighten him out’. They separated after a year.
Ray also had problems with alcohol, which worsened in the sixties. He would sporadically tour small venues and appear on television in the States, while commanding much larger audiences in the UK and Australia (where he remained most popular) right up until his death from liver failure on February 24th 1990. He was sixty-three.
Del Shannon scored his sole chart-topper a few years after Ray’s time at the top. And what a chart-topper it was. ‘Runaway’ is possibly the most inventive, most exciting, most propulsive #1 of that supposedly fallow period between Elvis and The Beatles. It made top spot in the summer of 1961, and features an innovative Musitron solo, making it arguably the first electronic hit. But even if that solo was played on a clapped out old piano it would take nothing from the record’s innate quality. Anyway, I discussed all this in more detail in my post on ‘Runaway’ here.
‘Runaway’ is so good that it tends to completely overshadow anything Del Shannon released afterwards. But ‘Little Town Flirt’ is another great slice of malt shop pop, making #4 in early 1963. He had a good line in heartbreak, and woman shaming, usually singing about runaways and flirts, and in ‘Hats Off to Larry’ he indulges in a bit of schadenfreude as his ex is dumped and left as heartbroken as he had been.
Shannon had a style, and came pretty close to shamelessly ripping himself off on some records (check out how close ‘Two Kinds of Teardrops’ is to ‘Little Town Flirt!) But on ‘So Long Baby’ he managed to recycle the energy of ‘Runaway’ into a deranged oompah beat and create a #10 hit that sounds both frivolous and terrifying.
Like Johnnie Ray, Del Shannon’s career slowed down towards the end of the sixties and into the seventies as he battled alcoholism. He worked with Tom Petty and Dave Edmunds, and by the ’80s he had sobered up and started something of a comeback. He worked with Jeff Lynne, and was touted as a replacement for Roy Orbison in The Travelling Wilburys. Sadly, though, he shot himself on February 8th 1990, apparently after having a negative reaction to the Prozac he was taking for depression. He was just fifty-five.
A very Happy New Year to you all, and a warm welcome back to the UK Number Ones Blog. I hope you had a good festive period, managed to celebrate, relax, and (in my case) catch up with writing about some soon-to-come number ones. Before we resume our journey through the late, late-nineties, I’m debuting a new feature!
The Village People, group portrait, New York, 1978. (Photo by Michael Putland/Getty Images)
‘On This Day…’ will do pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. I’ll intro a few of the records that have been top of the charts on a particular date in history, as well as mentioning a few births, a few deaths, and a few interesting occasions that tie into a particular chart-topper. The hope is that readers will be able to delve into my back-catalogue of posts, and find something I wrote long before they started following this blog. Or people can, y’know, just enjoy the tunes!
First up, number one on this day in 1962, we have a stone-cold classic:
‘Moon River’, from the soundtrack to ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ is one of the great songs of that supposedly fallow period between rock ‘n’ roll and The Beatles. In the film it is sung by Audrey Hepburn, at the Academy Awards that year it was performed by Andy Williams, while an instrumental version by the song’s composer Henry Mancini and a version by Jerry Butler were hits in the US. In the UK, however, it was left to South African-born Danny Williams to have the most succesful version of all. You can read my original post on ‘Moon River’ here.
Meanwhile on this day in 1923, radio host, record producer, and founder of the legendary Sun Records label, Sam Phillips was born in Alabama. He is most famous for his work with a young Elvis Presley, although he also produced Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and many of the other early rock and roll stars. His only contribution to the top of the UK singles chart, however, was this banger:
Here’s my original post on ‘Great Balls of Fire’. If you’re only going to top the charts once, might as well make it good ‘un. Speaking of which, number one on this day in 1979 we have perhaps the ultimate guilty pleasure. There is not a soul alive who hasn’t done the dance to the ‘YMCA’, however grudgingly, and not even the recent gyrations of Donald Trump can truly sour this wedding reception classic. Even more recently, Village Person Victor Willis (AKA the cop) has been threatening to sue anyone who claims that ‘YMCA’ – a song with the lyric: They have everything for young men to enjoy, You can hang out with all the boys… – has any homosexual connotations. Whatsover. No sirree. To which we can all say, ‘Okay honey…’ (Original post here.)
In sadder news, on this day in 1998, Sonny Bono died following a skiing accident in Nevada. He was of course the singing partner, and former husband, of Cher, with whom he enjoyed his sole chart-topper ‘I Got You Babe’ in 1965. I wrote about it, the 201st #1 single, way back in 2019.
Finally, one of the least likely number one singles of all time was sitting astride the charts on January 5th 1991. Early January is a bit of a dead zone for chart-toppers, as in most years the Christmas leftovers are still clinging on top with little competition. Iron Maiden spotted an opportunity, and released ‘Bring Your Daughter… To the Slaughter’ in the final week of 1990. Their devoted fanbase, as well as the publicity of knocking the God-bothering Cliff Richard’s ‘Saviour’s Day’ off #1, delivered the heavy metal legends their biggest hit. (Original post here.)
I hope everyone enjoyed this new feature, and won’t mind if it pops back up ever few weeks. I’m also going to be doing more regular posts on cover versions, number two singles, ‘Remembering’ features, ‘Best of the Rests’ and ‘Today’s Top 10s’, as well as a new look at the ‘B’-sides to famous number ones. The main focus will of course still be on the chart-toppers; just a little more regularly interspersed with interesting detours through chart history!
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