Operation Desert Storm began on 16th
January, heralding six weeks of carnage as our forces blitzed Iraq to rubble in
retaliation for the invasion of Kuwait. Talking of slaughter, Iron Maiden made
the cunning and cheeky calculated move of releasing ‘Bring Your Daughter to the
Slaughter’ at the perfect time to displace holier-than-thou Cliff Richard from
the number one spot in the New Year. While they didn’t stay at the top for the
Iraq War, the hostilities were instead accompanied by the rise of Enigma’s
contrasting ‘Sadness Part 1’!
Metal tracks rarely registered with
me, but several monsters did register in the upper echelons of the chart. In
January, Queen channelled their inner Led Zep in their six-minute single
‘Innuendo’,
crashing straight in at number one. At the time, I described it as “such a slovenly mish-mash of HM posturing,
flamenco guitar (!) and sub-Bohemian Rhapsody effects”. In many ways my
contemporaneous opinion still holds water, but I might now replace the word
‘slovenly’ with ‘oddly appealing’!
It certainly wasn’t the best year for
the band, but then Freddie Mercury’s health, like their music, was in rapid
decline. I was shocked to see Freddie’s skeletal appearance in the video for
the awful ‘I’m Going Slightly Mad’, and so the news of his death in November
from “an AIDS-related illness” came as no surprise. Neither did the consequent
surge to the Christmas number one slot of a re-released ‘Bo-Rhap’, twinned with
the new and grossly inferior ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’. When the
following Easter, Mercury’s life and music were celebrated in a Wembley
fundraising mega-concert, it was only fitting that ‘Innuendo’ was sung by Led
Zep’s Robert Plant.
Metallica also featured heavily in
that show but at the time their brand of chugging guitar rock in hits like
‘Enter Sandman’ wasn’t to my taste. The same went for Nirvana, whose
sensational ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ assaulted the top ten in November. It was
another year or two before I came to appreciate Kurt Cobain et al and buy not
one, but two Nirvana albums – and then he went and shot himself…. I like to
think the two events are unconnected.
U2 went ‘Rock’ in the autumn, too.
Releasing ‘The Fly’, they
announced it would be available for three weeks only. Would it have topped the
chart otherwise? Maybe, but it ranks as one of my favourite U2 tracks of all
time, from one of my favourite albums by any
artist, Achtung Baby. This also kicked off the band’s predilection for
extravagantly-staged multimedia event shows, beginning with the ZooTV tour in
1992-93. I just wish I’d grabbed the opportunity to see it for myself instead
of just on video.
It was another good year for the rock
ballad. Guns ‘n’ Roses seemed more appropriate interpreters of ‘Live and Let Die’ than Paul McCartney ever did, while Extreme temporarily went acoustic for the
memorable romantic number two song ‘More Than Words’. 1991 also saw German behemoth band The
Scorpions go global with the stirring power ballad ‘Wind of Change’.
Of course, I had never heard of them,
but this record was to become one of the world’s biggest-selling singles in
history, not just in Germany. Forever associated with the country’s
reunification – and a million times better than David Hasselhoff’s crass, but
for some reason hugely popular ‘Freedom’ – it was actually written about the
fragile political situation in the Soviet Union. Yet the precise political
inspiration behind the song is unimportant; it just works wonders as a glorious
emotional ode to the human spirit.
However, where sales are concerned, it
paled into insignificance compared with the UK’s biggest seller of 1991.
Following the previous year’s Ghost supremacy, it was the turn of Robin Hood,
Prince of Thieves to attract hordes into cinemas and enjoy Kevin Costner and
his Merrie Men fight in the forest and ultimately kill Alan Rickman’s
gloriously over-the-top Sheriff. From the film came Bryan Adams’ even more
all-conquering track ‘Everything I Do I Do It For You’. It was number one for
an unbelievable sixteen weeks, spanning July to October. For all its irritating longevity, it
remains one of the all-time best movie love songs, perfectly structured with
its piano intro, climactic crescendo then final breakdown. I wasn’t aware at
the time, but the incessantly-broadcast Julien Temple video was mostly filmed not in glamorous California but in little ol’ West Somerset.
Take a bow, Kilve beach.
In the days before she sold her songs
to some of the biggest stars on the planet, Norwich’s Cathy Dennis enjoyed a
modest solo career of her own. Her dance tunes were instantly forgettable but I
have fond memories of the less successful ballad ‘Too Many Walls’.
Terry Wogan seemed impressed, too!
I’ve never liked Spandau Ballet’s
over-rated ‘True’, but I have to admit the simple guitar motif sounds much
better on PM Dawn’s ‘Set Adrift on Memory Bliss’.
Another American hip-hop single which effortlessly evokes the emotions of West
Coast sultry dog days was ‘Summertime’ by Jazzie Jeff and the Fresh Prince. I
never watched the latter’s Bel Air sitcom but Will Smith was a rapper I could
listen to. Occasionally.
From hip-hop to trip-hop. I suppose it
got its name from mixing hip-hop and Acid House beats and 1991 gave us one of
the best examples in the form of Massive Attack’s ‘Unfinished Sympathy’.
With its sumptuous strings, minor synth chords, Shara Nelson’s soulful vocals
and the ‘heyyy hey-hey heyyy’s, together with the groundbreaking single-shot
video in non-descript LA, it all felt so American; yet it was a very British,
ney Bristolian, production. Seal was another domestic star with a transatlantic
sound. His biggest hit ‘Crazy’ went silver early in the year, making him more than just ‘that bloke with the
facial scars who sings on Adamski’s ‘Killer’’. Like ‘Unfinished Sympathy’, it
possesses a smooth, chilled, almost ambient style. Not quite a ballad, not
quite pure dance, not quite a political statement, it nonetheless successfully
fused elements of all three, and it was one of my favourites of ’91.
Trip-hop was also to the fore in the
work of the most successful, possibly the weirdest and definitely the most
controversial singles artists of the year. The KLF wasn’t the first project
created by thirty-somethings Jimmy Cauty and A&R man Bill Drummond. They
had already topped the chart as The Timelords but in 1991 they blew us away
with something very different.
The coming together of hip-hop,
trance, soul and a punkish attitude was altogether too much for me at the time.
When ‘3am Eternal’ went to number one in February, I described it as “awful claptrap”. Kind of Snap! meets The
Prodigy meets The Clash. What was all this nonsense about The Justified
Ancients? MuMu Land? I never understood it then and I still don’t. ‘Last Train
to Trancentral’ was more of the same but, when they flew to number two in December,
I began to appreciate their music a bit more. ‘Justified and Ancient’ must go down as one of the most bizarre collaborations in pop history, marrying
Drummond’s offbeat take on music with the country legend Tammy Wynette! How did that happen? Well, according to the
lyric:
“They
called me up in Tennessee
They said "Tammy, stand by The Jams"
But if you don't like what they're going to do,
You better not stop them 'cause they're coming through”
They said "Tammy, stand by The Jams"
But if you don't like what they're going to do,
You better not stop them 'cause they're coming through”
Apparently Drummond was a Country fan.
Whatever. It was a chart-topper in eighteen countries and refreshed the career
of Wynette, introducing her to a whole new generation of listeners and
rave-goers for whom breakbeats and wacky lyrics (“They’re justified and they’re ancient And they drive an ice cream van”.
I mean, really?!). And that proved to be their final single. Their
outlandish thrash metal performance of ‘3am Eternal’, climaxing with Drummond
firing a machine gun at the incredulous audience of suited and booted record
industry execs at the 1992 Brit Award ceremony, proved to be a dramatic suicide
note for the duo’s musical life.
Many artists have proclaimed they are
the people to revolutionise the music business, overthrow the status quo and go
out on a high. The KLF are the only ones who succeeded, if only for one year. They
proceeded to delete their entire back catalogue and move into arthouse
territory, culminating in the public burning of a million pounds. Did they make
a statement? Oh yes. That Drummond and Cauty were a couple of obnoxious mad numpties
with more money than sense. Mind you, I
believe their subversive anarchistic attitude hasn’t extended to a boycott of
Spotify, and 2017 saw them dip a toe back into the public eye..
Speaking as I was of The Clash, the
veteran punk rockers finally hit the top with Mick Jones’ ‘Should I Stay or Should
I Go?’, thanks to Levi’s latest TV ad campaign. Not, in my view, their finest
musical moment. I much preferred the rawer Strummer sound of ‘Rock the Casbah’,
the re-release of which peaked at a mere fifteen. Not quite ‘London Calling’,
but in the aftermath of the first Gulf War, it had an apt contemporary
political comment to make.
The Sixties were re-born in the guise
of Cher’s monotonous ‘Shoop Shoop Song’ (aka ‘It’s In His Kiss’), a massive hit
from the ‘Mermaids’ soundtrack. The comedian Vic Reeves later teamed up with
the ubiquitous folk/alt rock outfit The Wonder Stuff to update Tommy Roe’s
‘Dizzy’ while The Doors’ brooding ‘Light My Fire’ blazed into the charts on the
coat-tails of Oliver Stone’s biopic of the original stoner band. I have never
understood why this had failed to light up the UK charts back in ’67 but for
all the media obsession with recreational drugs, the sound didn’t quite chime
with the early Nineties scene. Good, though!
I couldn’t say the same about other
songs prominent that year. I really detested Crystal Waters’ ‘Gypsy Woman’,
Kiri Te Kanawa’s ‘World in Union’ (part of ITV’s commercial blitz surrounding
the Rugby World Cup) and The Simpsons’ ‘Do the Bartman’. Back then, Sky TV was
in its infancy, with an audience still largely comprised of white van men’s
families keen to adorn their terraced homes and flats with the latest hideous
satellite dishes. Was I just being a snob? Most definitely. I therefore tarred
the unfamiliar cartoon comedy with the same contemptuous brush. Consequently,
any associated single never stood a chance with me. After The Simpsons appeared
on BBC2, bringing it within my reach, I realised that instead of being brash
American trash it was in fact rather brilliant, probably the funniest sitcom
I’ve ever seen.
Strangely enough, it later transpired
that Bart’s anthem was written by superfan Michael Jackson! He had kept it
quiet so as not to interfere with the promotion of his new album Dangerous. I
didn’t particularly like his number one single ‘Black or White’. I considered
it ironic given that Wacko Jacko had by this time become more white than black.
Jackson could no longer guarantee
outselling everyone else; not in the UK anyway. His latest effort was easily
eclipsed by an act I found it hard to like.
Simply Red’s fourth album Stars was released in September and took a
grip on the album chart for well over a year, eventually selling well over 3
million copies. I wasn’t one of the buyers. Mick Hucknall may have boasted
ginger hair and left-leaning politics but his brand of pop/soul wasn’t my thing
at all. For me, Stars was the ultimate dinner party record. Too slow to dance
to, too boring to listen to, it was fit only to play in the background while
you ate and nattered, twinkling gently and inoffensively overhead while more
interesting things were happening on the ground. ‘Something Got Me Started’ did
at least have a bit of drive to it but the title track epitomised everything
that was wrong – yet also right – about Simply Red. It was inescapable
throughout December. Searching desperately for positives, I must admit it was
preferable to ‘Fairground’, the group’s only number one from 1996. I hated that one! Maybe it was because I
wasn’t really a dinner party person either.
MoR was beginning to grow, while Dance
was starting to take itself less seriously, and not in a good way. However,
there were some enjoyable tracks around. Candi Staton’s ‘You Got the Love’ was given a toe-tapping trancey update by British DJ/producer The Source.
Florence and the Machine’s more recent high octane version is perhaps better
known over here, and there have been other dance remixes but I still love The
Source’s bubbly synths.
K-Klass went to number three with
‘Rhythm is a Mystery’,
probably forgotten by everyone except me. I shamefully recall having it as an
answer in a Rotaract pop quiz at the time, with only one team knowing it. I
still wake up in a cold sweat remembering what a ridiculously difficult quiz I
devised. Lessons were learnt, of course. They never let me fly solo writing all
the questions again, and rightly so.
Now for the sillier songs. Oceanic’s
‘Insanity’ sold surprisingly well, its House piano bed and catchy chorus making it a
popular party anthem before the term was ever used. It also helped to have your
act name beginning with the number two. 2 in a Room’s ‘Wiggle It’ and 2
Unlimited’s ‘Get Ready For This’ were great for Rotaract discos – and were
indeed played at quite a few! - but not much else.
I tend to think of Erasure as an
Eighties band, but they probably enjoyed more success in the Nineties than they
did in the previous ten years. In ’91, ‘Chorus’ was the biggest hit but the
more memorable one was ‘Love to Hate You’.
Not so keen on the echoes of ‘I Will Survive’ but otherwise definitely one for
dancing to. REM first appeared on my radar, too. Not their utterly brilliant
‘Losing My Religion’, but the top-tenner ‘Shiny Happy People’.
Back then, Michael Stipe could actually pass for being of a sunny disposition!
Later I would ponder on the likelihood
of the song being about something far more miserable and depressing. Yet the
lyrics are simply full of ‘happy’s. Lots of them. Speaking of misery, Morrissey’s fave Manchester
band (apparently) and one-time ‘baggies’, James, took ‘Sit Down' to
number two, with a gloriously upbeat rhythm and vocal. Yet its theme was
supposedly that of mental illness. In the words of Kurt Cobain: oh, well,
whatever, never mind! It became a song we could enjoy at discos while, well,
sitting down. Also Tim Booth was to become one of my favourite singers.
Some front men and women have truly
amazing voices. I’m thinking Freddie Mercury, Karen Carpenter, Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison.
Others are memorable for being uniquely bizarre: I give you Kate Bush, Noddy
Holder, Rod Stewart. However, Booth comes into the category of just sounding
wonderful for no apparent reason whatsoever. James didn’t quite repeat the
success of ‘Sit Down’ but the follow-ups and his occasional appearances on
'Later… with Jools Holland' cemented Tim Booth’s as one of my all-time top
voices.
There was plenty of sex in the charts and on TOTP. Color Me Badd wanted to
sex me up while Salt n’ Pepa insisted: ‘Let’s Talk about Sex’. No, let’s not!
However, one of the most entertaining three minutes of music came courtesy of a
camp couple of Putney gym club owners with little hair but a twinkle in the
eye. Richard Fairbrass had you from the unaccompanied baritone monotone opening
lines:-
“I'm too sexy for my love
Too sexy for my love
Love's going to leave me”
Too sexy for my love
Love's going to leave me”
And just kept going! Even the band’s
name, Right Said Fred, possessed just the right sense of fun and comedic
nostalgia, while ‘I’m Too Sexy’ was one of the rare tracks you could jig along to with a stupid grin on your
face. Bryan Adams kept it at number two for a record-equalling six weeks but it
outsold all but three singles in the UK and even scooped an Ivor Novello
songwriting award. I suspect that was merited by one of the finest finales of
any song ever. It simply ends with:
“I’m too sexy for this song”.
That’s all, folks! It had ‘one-hit
wonder’ stamped all over it and yet for all its novelty value, ‘I’m Too Sexy’
was not the beginning and end of RSF’s musical career. I actually preferred the
Christmas follow-up, ‘Don’t Talk, Let’s Kiss’ while the following Spring,
‘Deeply Dippy’ presented them with a number one success, and a second Ivor
Novello. But it was the first single which remains unforgettable. Let’s face
it, we’ve all strutted around the living room singing “I’m too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts”, haven’t we. Haven’t
we? Oh, maybe it’s just me then, but I don’t care.
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