The 100 Greatest UK Number 1 Singles – #89

The other day I was winding down after work, watching tea-time quiz show Pointless (now with 100% less Richard Osman), when I heard guest host, actor Stephen Mangan, mention something which sounded strangely familiar.

You’ll recognise Mangan if not from his name then perhaps from one of his many stints guest-hosting Have I Got News For You, or from appearing in such comedies as Green Wing, Nathan Barley or Episodes, or as the voice of the eponymous hero in Postman Pat: The Movie, or in TV dramas like The Split, or films like Billy Elliott or Rush, or, most likely, for being on the receiving end, albeit unaware that he was, of this classic bit of Partridge:

(And yes, you’re right, all of that was just an excuse to post a clip of North Norfolk’s finest.)

Anyway, the strangely familiar thing that I heard him say was along the lines of: “In 2020, The Guardian newspaper printed a list of what they considered to be the greatest 100 singles to reach the #1 position in the UK charts. Please name any of the artists which featured on the list, trying to choose ones which the fewest of our audience of 100 people remembered.”

Wait a minute, I thought: I used to write a series on exactly this subject, which I would preface with the words: This is the series where I feature The Guardian’s idea of the 100 best UK #1s ever, and we see what I have to say about them (which usually isn’t much, to be honest).

This will be a doddle, I also thought, before being totally baffled when I didn’t remember writing about any of the songs mentioned. And that was because I hadn’t written one since June this year, and in fact had only gotten as far as #90 in the countdown, despite having started the series back in November 2020.

When I last bothered to write one of these, I mentioned that I had deliberately not checked further on the list to see what awaited me, and the subject’s appearance on Pointless had somewhat scuppered that for me. But every cloud has a silver lining: I now know that I can continue safe in the knowledge that I won’t be having to feature anything by Ed Sheeran in this series.

So, what did The Guardian have to say about the record which had reached the giddy heights of #89 in their chart? This:

“Producer Richard X gets a lot of credit for the shuddering magnitude of invention behind the Sugababes’ debut UK No 1 – the first legit single of the 2000s bootleg wave, bringing together Adina Howard and Tubeway Army – but not all of it. The newly minted trio of Mutya, Keisha and Heidi pull off a more convincing “I’m grown now” transition than any of their American pop peers, thanks to the terrifying nonchalance innate to British teenage girls. It’s got a classic belting “may-ee!” (that’s “me” in millennial pop terms) and without it, you wouldn’t have Sound of the Underground – or, even, possibly, whisper it, Toxic.”

They, speak, of course, of this:

Sugababes – Freak Like Me

I’m not sure I follow the argument that without this record there wouldn’t be a Sound of the Underground – the idea of manufactured female pop groups was hardly a new idea when Sugababes appeared on the scene – and I honestly can’t see any link at all between Freak… and Toxic, other then the gender of the performer(s).

I’d be gobsmacked if neither of those records feature later on in the countdown, so we’ll return to this theory then (if I remember and if I get that far, of course).

What I would say is that Sugababes are possibly my second favourite all-female pop group, after the aforementioned Girls Aloud, and probably vying for second place with Bananarama.

And it always annoys me when they’re subject to very predictable jokes about the ever-evolving line-up (which, hands up, I’ve been guilty of myself); they’re truly the Trigger’s broom of the pop world:

But I digress: what of this mention of Freak… being “…the first legit single of the 2000s bootleg wave….”? That “…2000s bootleg wave…” is The Guardian’s way of saying “mash-ups”, which for those of you unfamiliar with either terminologies is where the music from one song has the lyrical part of another laid on top of it, thereby creating – hey presto! – a completely new song. Think sampling taken to the nth degree.

These were immensely popular at the start of the century, as a billion bedroom DJs produced their own. Barely a week would go by without another one where Missy Elliott’s Get Ur Freak On was suddenly backed by the theme tune to Pebble Mll at One, or something equally ridiculous, and to be fair, they were a lot of fun, for a while. Still are when you stumble upon a decent one.

Perhaps it was the musical snob in me that disliked ones where a sample of the lyrics from the featured music also briefly appeared; this seemed to me to be at best a case of giving the listener a helping hand in identifying both featured tunes, or at worst the mixer wanting to show off (“Look at what I did!”, “Yes, we get it, very clever!”).

But Sugababes manage to dodge this particular bullet by keeping the lyrics of Adina Howard’s original…:

Adina’s range of discreet sanitary products never really took off

Adina Howard – Freak Like Me

…entirely seperate from the mechanical mumblings of Gary Numan on Tubeway Army’s classic:

Tubeway Army – Are ‘Friends’ Electric?

But returning to that Guardian description, and the reference to the Sugababes’ Freak… being “…the first legit single of the 2000s bootleg wave“; the word ‘legit’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there, since surely the credit for the first mash-up single to go overground must go to Freelance Hellraiser’s A Stroke of Genius, which combined the music from The Strokes’ track Hard To Explain with Christina Aguilera’s pop hit Genie in a Bottle“. It was met with a ‘cease and desist’ order from the record label which housed both Aguilera and The Strokes, RCA:

The Freelance Hellraiser – A Stroke of Genius

A Stroke of Genius came out in 2001 and didn’t chart (probably due to that ‘cease and desist’ order); Sugababes’ Freak Like Me was released in 2002. See? It’s all about that word “legit”.

And of course, I’ve written all of this without even mentioning the producer behind Freak…, on Richard X; but it’s getting kinda late now and I’ve banged on for quite long enough, so I’ll revisit him another time.

All of which rather implies that I don’t have much time for the record at #89, and that would be incorrect, for I think it’s a ruddy marvellous tune which, depending on what lies ahead of us, probably should be placed higher than this lowly position.

More soon.

PS – Despite my confusion, I still got all of the answers on that round of Pointless.

TuesGays

No, not a typo.

A few weeks ago as I was walking home from the town centre, a sign which I must have walked past a few dozen times since I relocated here caught my eye.

It was for a nightclub which I have never yet known to be open, but that’s probably because I’m not generally out when clubbing folks are out going to clubs these days.

Anyway, the sign looked like this:

It’s bugged me ever since that the marketing team coudn’t decide whether to call it TuesGay or TuesGays before releasing the promotional material. Come on guys, pick a side – your Tueday night punters clearly have!

I do worry sometimes that perhaps this place isn’t inclusive enough and so ever since I spotted this, I’ve toyed with the idea of a new series, posting songs by, or embraced and associated by, our friends in the LBGTQ+ community every Tuesday, and, obviously nicking the name for the series from you-know-where.

But I wanted to be sure that in doing so my intentions weren’t misconstrued. Rest assured, these will be songs that I love too.

Even more than that, I don’t want to accidentally “out” someone, or worse still, incorrectly “out” someone.

So I figured I’d start on safe ground, he says with a knowing wink and an innocent halo emoji:

Electric Six – Gay Bar

…which of course gives me the opportunity to post the very funny video too:

More soon.

New Mood on Monday

Anniversary time again as this, these words that you’re reading right now, are the opening sentence in my 2000th post.

And what better way to mark the occasion, and to give you the pick-me-up you didn’t know you needed until you realised it’s Monday morning, than this:

Pulp – Disco 2000

More soon

Sunday Morning Coming Down

I’m not really sure why I’ve always ignored Neko Case.

But a while ago, I picked up her retrospective album Wild Creatures and was blown away by her.

Here’s the live version of one of her songs from that album that I love, even if she can’t spell the title correctly:

Neko Case – Favorite

Stunning.

More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

Tonight, a song which, when I first heard the album it lives on, was probably my least favourite song by the band in question. And that’s despite it featuring rather a good joke, which I can’t be the only one to have noticed, but which I’ve never seen anyone else mention.

Tonight’s song is by The Smiths, and is lifted from their final studio album, 1987’s Strangeways Here We Come.

Now. I know many people feel conflicted about The Smiths these days, on account of Morrissey turning out to be a a supporter of extreme right wing views. But back in the 80s, he and his lyrics, combined with Johnny Marr’s often juxtaposed guitar work, were the main appeal of The Smiths.

Integral parts of the whole that they were, literally nobody loved The Smiths because of Mike Joyce’s drumming or Andy Rourke’s bass lines. It was all about Morrissey’s tormented words, making a virtue of solitude and outsider-ness, offset against Marr’s chiming, jangly guitar.

How we all laughed, as we earnestly did our Morrissey impressions on the dancefloors of indie clubs, wearing our cardigans, pretending to have either a hearing aid or a fistful of gladioli, wagging a finger and furrowing our brow as we sang-a-long-a-Mozzer.

We suspected, of course, that something was not quite right – the interview where he announced that “all reggae is vile”, for example (he’s just thinking of UB40, surely?) – but these thoughts never encroached or disturbed the lyrical content, which remained steadfastly both left-wing and Northern. But we chose to ignore it.

Until tonight’s record.

I’d like to think that Marr had some degree of creative control, and refused to allow some lyrics through. He doesn’t mention it in his excellent autobiography, Set The Boy Free, but then again he was never the kiss-and-tell type.

And although Death of a Disco Dancer seems to be a pondering of life, death and the afterlife, that title has always bothered me. It seems to at best to witheringly accept, at worst condone, the bludgeoning of someone who likes disco music – a genre usually associated with either gay or ethnic communities – in a manner which didn’t manifest itself again until Morrissey’s solo work – see Bengali in Platforms‘ “Life is hard enough when you belong here”, or all of The National Front Disco, with all it’s orchestrated Union Jack waving, skinhead baiting Finsbury Park rhetoric.

So what to do? Do we deny our experience and love of The Smiths on the basis of what Morrissey patently is, or at best, has become. I know of many people who cannot bring themselves to listen to the band’s records, because of what he now represents. I get that, totally.

Me? Until now, I’ve made a disctinction between him in The Smiths and his solo work. The Smiths stuff has the dust blown of its grooves every now and again, but the solo Morrissey records have obstinantly remained on the racks. Fortuitously, much of the latter has been dull and plodding pub-rock – watch his band try and perform The Smiths’ hits live compared with how Marr handles it, and there’s a world of difference.

My rule has been this: post nothing of his solo work, but if you absolutely must, thenposting The Smiths is fine because everything was (almost) okay back then.

On my commute to and from work on Friday, my trusty iPod kept shuffling Smiths’ tunes into my ears which I’d not listened to in ages because, well….because. And it was lovely to hear I Don’t Owe You Anything, and tonight’s tune, and Rusholme Ruffians. And then it gave me Suedehead, and I began pondering cancel culture.

Suedehead is a magificent record which holds many memories for me; am I to deny myself the pleasure of ever listening to it, of reliving those memories, simply because I disagree with the singer’s political views? Am I heck.

Have I stopped posting Ian Brown’s records because he was a vocal anti-vaxxer? No. I rarely post anything from his solo canon because it’s not very good (bar F.E.A.R.).

Do I refuse to post anything by Gary Numan just because he does more than dress to the right? No (but again, get passed Are Friends Electric? and Cars and there’s little I’d be likely to mention.

Why do radio stations continue to play Micahel Jackson, but not Gary Glitter? Does it make a difference that one was convicted whilst the other paid off his accusers victims?

The list goes on. And the thing with being cancelled is that rarely has the person moaning about having been excluded actually been so – if they had, then we wouldn’t hear them complaining about it.

So I refuse to deny myself the pleasure of listening to or featuring records by artist swith whom I disagree. But when I do, I’ll be mentioning why I feel conflicted. And I think I’ve covered that tonight.

So here’s Death of a Disco Dancer in all it’s possibly racist and homophobic, sounds-a-bit-like Dear Prudence grandeur:

The Smiths – Death Of A Disco Dancer

And here’s Morrissey wearing a For Britain badge on The Jimmy Fallon Show in May 2019:

And here’s a close-up, just in case you weren’t sure:

And as for that joke I mentioned earlier? Well, the pawing at the piano described as being keyboards on that is none other than Morrissey himself, and this after him singing on The Queen is Dead : “She says ‘I know you and you cannot sing’; I said ‘That’s nothing you should hear me play piano!'”.

That joke isn’t funny anymore.

But this is: Jools Holland playing piano with The Beach Boys after Adam Buxton has “just tweaked the sound ever so slightly”:

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

I had to travel into the office in London today; on the way home, I checked to see what time I had scheduled tonight’s post for, only to find that, to my horror, I hadn’t written it last weekend as I thought I had.

So, I’m afraid this week, there’s no sleeve notes or tediously long preamble, because I’ve messed up and I don’t have time. Besides, you know how this works by now: it’s an hour of tunes, starting off slowly, some (hopefully) unexpected selections, the occasional link between songs (some more obvious than others), reintroducing some long-forgotten old buddies and throwing in more than one banger.

Which is a shame, because tonight is the 21st edition of Friday Night Music Club (if you ignore all of the additonal mixes) and I had wanted to mark the occasion appropriately, but that will have to keep for the next milestone, I guess.

Woo-hoo!

That’ll have to do.

So, here’s this week’s mixed bag of genre-jumping mixedness. I hope you enjoy it:

Friday Night Music Club Vol 21

And here’s your track-listing:

  1. The Stone Roses – Made of Stone
  2. Aztec Camera – This Boy Wonders
  3. It’s Immaterial – Ed’s Funky Diner
  4. Talking Heads – And She Was
  5. Ofra Haza – Im Nin’Alu
  6. The Sisters of Mercy – Temple of Love (1992)
  7. The Cult – Nirvana
  8. Nirvana – Lounge Act
  9. Beastie Boys – Sure Shot
  10. Dream Warriors – Wash Your Face in My Sink
  11. Missy Elliott – Work It
  12. Audio Bullys Featuring Nancy Sinatra – Shot You Down (Radio Edit)
  13. Deep Dish – Flashdance (Original Club Mix)
  14. The Source Featuring Candi Station – You’ve Got the Love (Original Mix)

Oops. Probably should have stuck one of these in erlier:

Ho hum.

More (done properly, hopefully) soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Regular readers will know that my preference for a ‘type’ of Country music to feature here is from the pre-1980s, outlaw type, a la Cash, Kristofferson, Haggard etc etc.

Country music, in my opinion, got a bit too polished in the 80s, and it’s only recently that I’m starting to discover new country acts who seem to be wanting to recreate that more authentic, earthy, sound I like.

Such is the case with Hayes Carll (yes, it may seem like Yoda is trying to pronounce his name, but I promise you, those words are the right way round).

Today’s tune is lifted from his 2021 album You Get It All, which doesn’t exist according to his Wiki page, so somebody really should update that sometime.

This has a kinda bluegrassy feel to it, and is one of those “I didn’t get the girl” records Country does so well.

It also features Aaron Raitiere (nope, me neither – but a quick Google sweep tells me he’s won a Grammy for a song which he co-wrote with Lady Gaga, “I’ll Never Love Again”, which appears in the Gaga-starring A Star Is Born which I haven’t watched, but may well do now).

Anyway, I really like this:

Hayes Carll (feat. Aaron Raitiere) – Any Other Way

NB: I now, as a rule, check I haven’t already posted a song before, and will only feature it if either I haven’t done so before, or if I have that it was ages ago and deserves another airing. So imagine my suprise, thinking this album was all I owned by Mr Carll (I feel like Basil Brush referring to him that way), that a quick scan of old posts tells me he actually featured back in 2016 when Charity Chic (a link to his blog is in the sidebar) suggested a tune by him as part of The Chain.

See, he’s always right, is our CC.

More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

I may have told this story before; forgive me if I have, and feel free to skip to the bit where I post a tune.

I’ve definitely posted this song before, in a different series, back in 2017, so it’s long overdue a second appearance, especially when you consider it’s by a band that I love who (assuming I tagged things properly, which isn’t neccesarily a given) have only featured on these pages once before, when I posted this song. I’ll be redressing that shortly.

Anyway, here’s what I wrote about the album this appears on back in 2017:

“Released in 1986, “Purveyors of Taste” was a Creation compilation, seven tracks by bands from the label’s roster, and each one quite magnificent.

Tracks from this album featured regularly on the tapes I used to prepare for the sixth-form common room, which I used to record on my Dad’s stereo, situated in the dining room of the family home. Often, the vinyl I had used would remain there for a few days, and I used to ensure that I left this one at the front of the pile I had brought, because I knew it really annoyed my Mum. Can’t think why.”

And my story relates to that sleeve, and I figure if I didn’t tell it when I wrote about Pureveyors of Taste, then I can’t conceive of when I would have written about it.

Enough with the disclaimers.

Here’s the album sleeve in question:

I had a party for my 18th birthday, held in the upstairs function room of The Country Club, a glorified bar in the small village I lived in. It was invite only, but as the night progressed many locals seeking some late night drinking tried to join us; I knew most of them, figured the more the merrier, so said they could come in.

What I didn’t know was that my 6th form friends – most of whom did not live locally – had clubbed together and bought me an 18th birthday present I’d never forget: an inflatable lady shaped sex doll. Apparently this was meant as a comment on my peceived unattractiveness to women, and my ongoing unwanted clinging to virginity. Hilarious, right?

I’m told that a bunch of my so-called buddies met in the pub across the road, inflated my present and then were thrown out after they tossed her around the bar.

The first i knew about her was when the DJ killed all the music, cleared the dancefloor and then invited me onto the empty space, at which point my new inflatable friend was presented to me, and I had to waltz around the room with her.

I’m game, so I went with it (mostly because I figured it would be more embarassing to refuse to play along).

Shortly afterwards, I was handed a somewhat deflated present, and was told that someone had jumped on her and caused her to puncture. Fortuitously, someone was there to capture the moment the news of her passing was broken to me:

In case you’re confused, that’s 18 year old me on the left.

And no, I do not look anything like either subject these days. Except maybe for the moobs.

But that’s not the end of the story, for a few months later, Mrs Rubber Dolly had a most wonderful renaissance.

Having spent several months in a plastic bag in my parents’ garage, I set about repairing her with my trusty bicycle puncture repair kit. Not for any sordid reasons, but because there was news that an election for the position of 6th Form Head Boy/Girl was forthcoming, and I wanted to be unruly and satirical.

And so it was that, like a phoenix from the flames, restored to her former glory, she was inflated and pinned to a wall in the 6th Form Common Room, a sign sellotaped to her chest which simply read (not Simply Red): “Vote Mrs R Dolly”.

I wish this story ended differently, but I have to tell you that Mrs R Dolly won the election. However, she was subsequently disqualified on the grounds that she was “not an actual student”. Pah! There was nothing in the election rules which stipulated this. Pure nit-picking, in my book.

Were it to happen now, then I’m sure the outcome would be different, for if there’s one thing we’ve all learned since then, it’s that you should give The People what they want, even if it is ridiculous, possibly harmful, and almost certainly not in their best interest.

All of which, apart from the album cover, has no bearing on tonight’s tune. I just thought, for a change, you might want to hear something about inflation which didn’t make you accidentally soil yourself.

The Weather Prophets – Like Frankie Lymon

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

Evening all.

Ready for another roller-coaster ride of fun? Well, you’ll just have to make do with another of my mixes, I’m afraid.

And I’m introducing a new mission statement for this series: no longer will there be mixes which focus solely on one type of music, be it dance, indie, rock or whatever. From now on, each week will be as much of a mixed bag of genres as I can throw together from all the tunes I own. I’ll try to introduce you to something new, remind you of some stuff you’ve probably forgotten about, and reacquaint you with some old favourites.

Place your bets as to how long I’ll last before I get bored and revert to type.

In the meantime, buckle up (or unzip, whichever floats your boat), and feast your lug-holes around my latest effort, No 20 in a series that thus far actually has actually contained 28 mixes and 2 *ahem* “Specials” at Easter and Christmas. Go figure.

Friday Night Music Club Vol 20

And here’s your track-listing and sleeve notes – look away now if you don’t want to spoil any surprises:

  1. Flight of the Conchords – Business Time

It takes a pretty special comedy duo to have released a record which still makes me laugh fourteen years after I first heard it, but New Zealand’s finest folksters achieved it with their eponymous album (the follow-up, I Told You I Was Freaky, not so much, although it has its moments).

Anyway, Business Time finds Jemaine getting ready to get down and dirty with his other half, and it’s the perfect way to kick things off this week, apart from the fact that Jemaine’s getting lucky on a Wednesday, but I don’t do a Wednesday Night Music Club, so here will have to do.

2. M J Cole – Sincere

Shortly after Hel and I first became mates, we began exchanging mixtapes. (I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong – neither of us was trying to impress the other in quite the way that preparing a mixtape for a member of the opposite sex usually indicates.) No, this was prompted by me confessing that (at the time) I didn’t own any Prince records, and only knew the singles. Hel provided me with a C90 crammed full of Princely treats, which was the perfect “in” (again, with his music) that I needed. I was, of course, tempted to reciprocate with 90 minutes of Quo, but decided better of it, and responded with a mixed bag playlist, much like the one you’re (hopefully) listening to now. She then responded with two mixtapes, modestly titled “The Greatest Mixtape in the World Vol 1 & 2”, at which point I decided to nip things in the bud before I was forced to buy shares in TDK to continue.

Anyway, this little beauty, which I’d never heard before, was on one of the ones she did for me, and I’ve loved it ever since.

And I have told you that because it was either that or make a rubbish joke about ex-footballer Joe Cole, and you wouldn’t want me to stoop so low, would you?

3. Oakenfold – Starry Eyed Surprise

Last week, I included an Oakenfold mix of an indie classic, and here he is again, this time with a song released under his own name. It features the vocals of someone who wants us to believe their name is Shifty Shellshock, who some of you may remember as the lead singer of Crazy Town, who had a hit with the godawful Butterfly back in 2000. Despite, or perhaps because of, all these composite parts, I really love this record, to the point where a couple of months agoI bought Bunkka, the double vinyl Oakenfold album it appears on. It speaks volumes that I’ve not listened to it yet, mind.

4. Sheila B. Devotion – Spacer

Now, even though the tag-line for this blog is that there’s No Such Thing As a Guilty Pleasure, there are still some tunes which I love but wonder if the world is ready for me attempting to defend. This, from 1979, featured pretty highly on the list. Until recently, when much respected music journalist Jon Savage released the latest in his excellent series of compilation albums (Jon Savage’s 1977-1979: “Symbols Clashing Everywhere”) recently, and included this. So, job done, I’m totally vindicated.

5. Technotronic – Get Up! (Before The Night Is Over)

Yes. You read that right. Technotronic. Here, in one of my mixes. Because it’s ace, as is it’s predecessor Pump Up The Jam (although I hated both when they originally came out. No guitars, see?). And if you disagree, well, you’re just plain wrong. Nuff said.

6. Starlight – Numero Uno (Club Mix)

Since we find ourselves momentarily back in the realms of late 80s/early 90s dance anthems, this juicy slice of italo-piano house deserves a revisit too. Cracking stuff (although I hated it when it originally…etc etc etc)

7. The SuperMen Lovers – Starlight (Radio Edit)

To bring things a little more up-to-date (by which I mean 2001), I cannot deny that this is here purely because the previous tune made me think of it. As such, it’s as close to a link between any two tunes you’ll find in this mix. Funky stuff, which I liked quite a lot when it came out (the dance-penny having finally dropped).

8. Tush – Chrysalis

I imagine this lot are so-named because their records make you want to shake yours. And speaking of being up-to-date, this is from 2021, and is lifted from the band’s rather fantastic Fantast album. Check it out, I’m sure they’ll be getting ripped off fairly paid for having their songs on some streaming site or another.

9. The Bloody Beetroots – Cornelius

This is an absolute banger; it reminds me of The Prodigy output circa 2009’s Invaders Must Die album, except, y’know, good.

10. Lemon Jelly – ’88 Aka Come Down On Me

If you’re one of those people who think Lemon Jelly only released chill-out choons, then give this a listen and think again. And they were wise to the fact that ’64-’95 – the album this comes from – sounds very different to their previous output, for it had a sticker on the front warning: “This is our new album. It’s not like our old album.” And they’re right, it really isn’t.

11. Electric Six – Danger High Voltage

If I could be bothered to check, I’d look to see who appeared on the scene with their comedy chops unfurled first: this lot or The Darkness. Either way, they both got found out as being one-trick poneys around the same time, as I recall. Which doesn’t mean that neither of them made decent records; Danger High Voltage remains a belter in my book.

12. Stiff Little Fingers – Listen

Now there’s a well-engineered mood change, even if I do say so myself. This is not exactly typical of SLF’s output, it’s a little more chart friendly than, say Tin Soldiers or Alternative Ulster, but it does have an anthemic sing-a-long chorus you can join in with whilst you have yourself a nice sit down and a bit of breather, before we crank things up again for the finale.

13. Conway – Big Talk

This was much played on 6Music a few years ago. I bought it. Not many others did, I fear. It’s pretty good in that 80s-esque/Ladyhawke kind of way that was popular a while back.

14. Arcade Fire – Wake Up

And so to the…er…climax, although now I’m writing this I have a nasty feeling I’ve included this in a previous mix, which means I may have broken my “no record shall feature twice” rule. Ah well, if I have it was good while it lasted. In any event, it’s a thoroughly rousing way to round things off.

Except that’s not quite the end:

15. Primal Scream – Velocity Girl

That is.

More soon.

It Was 50 Years Ago Today…

And so here we are. Another bloody year older. At 53, I think this is the final year that I can get away with saying I’m in my early-50s. Next year, I’ll have to confess to being in my mid-50s and then….*shudders*…well, I’d rather not think about that any further, thank ou very much.

Still, better than the alternative, I guess.

Long time readers may recall that I used to mark my birthday every year by posting the same song, the one which was #1 in the UK charts on the day I was born. That record, for those a little newer round here, is Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising, which I think is a pretty cool – and possibly appropriate – record to be associated with in such a way.

Inspired by a series Martin over at the ever brilliant New Amusements did a few years ago, where he discussed each song which had been #1 on his birthday each year, I decided to do something similar. Alright, something almost identical – the difference being that I’d just post one a year, on my birthday, to see how long the run of cool records being #1 on my big day could last.

So far, so good: to go with Bad Moon Rising (1969), we’ve had Freda Payne’s Band of Gold (1970) and The Tams’ Hey Girl Don’t Bother Me (1971).

So what have we got this year, to represent 1972? Another cool one hopefully.

Nope.

It was this:

David Cassidy – How Can I Be Sure

Now, I must say that when I saw who this year’s record was by, my heart sank. I’m not adverse to a bit of 70s kitsch, nor oblivious to the charms of the odd teen heart-throb, but Jesus wept…David Cassidy….!

So I gave it a listen. And what do you know, it’s nowhere near as bad as I imagined.

Which is probably because I recognised it as a cover version of this, much more Scott Walker/Jacques Brel-esque version:

The Young Rascals – How Can I Be Sure

I think perhaps I’m trying to convince myself here. Sure, The Young Rascals version would have been preferable, or even better, the (not featured here for fear of overkill) Dusty Springfield version from 1970. But in all honesty, the David Cassidy version isn’t that bad.

I tell you what is rather galling though. On 26th September 1972, the David Cassidy version had only been #1 for two days. Had I been born even more prematurely than I actually was, on 24th September instead of 26th, then this would have been the next record in this series and I’d have been a whole lot happier:

Slade – Mama Weer All Crazee Now

That’s better.

Now, who fancies giving me the bumps? Good luck, it’ll take a few of you.

More soon.