1976 – Feel the Beat from the Tambourine

Ah, the music of 1976. This could be a short chapter! Naffness there was in spades. Not all dreadful, but when you hit fifteen you kinda expect something to get excited about. Excitement was definitely in short supply, but there was still entertainment.

A lot of ladies certainly seemed to get very worked up by Demis Roussos. Already a superstar on the continent, his USP was the combination of an enormous frame barely contained in a kaftan and an extraordinarily light, high voice. His EP The Roussos Phenomenon, led by the ballad ‘Forever and Ever’, topped the charts in the long hot summer of 1976. Maybe the high temperatures and lack of rain made British women long for the Greek beaches and a bearded sex god serenading them – and along came Demis!

In fact he had been on UK TV with Nana Mouskouri and even Basil Brush a few years previously but the EP propelled him into the premier league. I didn’t like his music one iota, but you couldn’t ignore him. He was an easy target for parody, and we all tried our worst falsetto to do so. Nevertheless, imitation is supposed to be the sincerest form of flattery so I’m sure Roussos took it all in his stride.

Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’ took more than two years to make it in Britain. As with most Country music, it didn’t appeal to me at all. Like Demis Roussos, her unmistakeable – er – body shape left her wide open to sexist imitators. To be honest, it was probably the breast jokes which brought her to the attention of a wider audience but Dolly had the last laugh. No number one singles, but, since her Glastonbury triumph in 2014, her ’76 breakthrough has sold more than 200,000 digital downloads!

It was also a successful year for Showaddywaddy. The Leicester faux teddy boys were a regular sight on Top of the Pops in their colourful drapes miming along to a series of late fifties and early sixties hits. Their only number one single came towards the end of ’76, when ‘Under the Moon of Love’ threatened to be the top song at Christmas. It didn’t, thanks to the black polo jumper-clad Johnny Mathis, but it come to epitomise their distinct brand of music, appealing to fans of rock’n’roll-lite and simple, straightforward fun pop.

Another band never likely to win the hearts of New Musical Express editors was The Wurzels. A novelty act, yes, but their Zummerzet shtick was genuine and even I was won over by their re-working of recent hits. ‘Brand New Key’ was transformed into ‘Combine Harvester’ and – lo! – a number one! The follow-up was ‘I Am a Cider Drinker’, with new lyrics to the tune of ‘Una Paloma Blanca’. Their chart positions weakened as the joke wore thinner, but they are still going strong in the West Country. Even I used to sing the ‘Cider Drinker’ chorus as I drove past the Somerset sign on the M5. They regularly headline events in and around Bridgwater, where they are living legends! 

The Brotherhood of Man returned to the big time courtesy of their Eurovision entry ‘Save Your Kisses for Me’. Cute song, cute dance steps and cute little twist at the end. Cute, cute, cute. However, for me the “Ahhh”s on first hearing swiftly became ‘”Aarrghhh”s the more the record was played. And that was very often, because the foursome won Eurovision and became the year’s best-sellers. They even went on to top the charts twice more in the Seventies, coasting on the coat-tails of Abba.

Other annoying hits of ’76 include CW McCall’s trucker song ‘Convoy’, which made number two in a year when CB radio started to become popular, many years before mobile phones. That was bad enough but then Radio 1 DJs Dave Lee Travis and Paul Burnett became Laurie Lingo and the Dipsticks to record the silly ‘Convoy GB’. It peaked at four! John Miles’ ‘Music’ left me unmoved and Eric Carmen’s ‘All By Myself’ deserved to have kept him in solitude for life.

Dutch Country outfit Pussycat enjoyed substantial sales of the pedestrian ‘Mississippi’ and they were turfed off the top by Chicago’s ‘If You Leave me Now’. For many, this is a classic ballad but I beg to differ. I just think Peter Cetera sounds like a whiny bluebottle you can’t destroy. There, I’ve said it! 

Sailor’s ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ also registered high on the naff scale, and accompanied lots of politically-incorrect clips in those unenlightened times. Their nautical costumes and impressive nickelodeon keyboard contraption also stood out from the rest. However, listen to their first number two single, ‘A Glass of Champagne’; it’s actually quite good!

Another act which probably wouldn’t make the grade in the twenty-first century was Tina Charles. She wasn’t a size zero, she couldn’t really dance and, truth be told, she couldn’t really sing very well. Tina probably wouldn’t pass an X Factor audition. However, back in ’76, her winning smile and Biddu-produced dance-pop made winning formula. She looked like an ordinary young woman boogieing on a local dancefloor or nervously taking to a pub karaoke platform, but she was a surprise success story of ’76. 

To some cogniscenti she is now considered a British disco pioneer. That might be pushing it a bit, but ‘I Love to Love’ was the eighth biggest seller of 1976. Her (earthier) voice had also been heard on 5000 Volts’ high-energy 1975 hit ‘I’m on Fire’, but my personal favourite was her solo song ‘Dance Little Lady, Dance’.

The guitar is distinctly funky. Not in the moped/gibbon sense of the word, but in the ‘makes you want to get up and jiggle about’ sense. I also liked the Wild Cherry top tenner, ‘Play that Funky Music’. A shame I rarely hear it on the radio any more. The same goes for The Sensational Alex Harvey Band’s weird ‘Boston Tea Party’. Always a very visual band, this was one of the few Harvey songs I actually liked (the other being their outrageous version of ‘Delilah’). It stalled at thirteen but I enjoyed their brand of rock, and the charismatic Harvey’s unashamed Scottish and, on his TOTP performance, live vocals. At the age of 40, he may have looked slightly the worse for wear, but his stage presence was undeniably Sensational.

Thin LIzzy became rock gods in 1976 with the immortal ‘Boys Are Back in Town’, forever radio-friendly. It may be full of ‘chicks’ and crazy ‘cats’ but I can’t tire of hearing it. Everything that followed was inferior. I don’t think Hank Mizell was ever a guitar hero like Phil Lynott, but I confess that, at the time, I did prefer the re-release of his 1958 rockabilly flop, ‘Jungle Rock’! One of my favourite Status Quo songs also made the top ten. In a year which gave us the century’s most serious and prolonged drought, it had to be ‘Rain’…

Away from rock, I liked Barry White’s number two hit ‘Say the Trouble with Me’, Yvonne Elliman’s sweet ‘Love Me’, The Four Seasons’ ‘December ‘63’ and Andy Fairweather Low’s ‘Wide-eyed and Legless’. That reminds me…. I recently attended a Paul Weller concert in Cardiff. Towards the end, a ‘local boy done good’ was ushered onto the stage. Bald, in unflattering specs and acoustic guitar in hand, Paul introduced him as Mr Fairweather Low himself! Unrecognisable from his Amen Corner days but we all sang along anyway to ‘Half as Nice’. His 1976 top-tenner would have raised a smile, too. 

The most memorable disco contributions must have been Candi Staton’s summer classic ‘Young Hearts Run Free’ and Andrea True Connection’s ‘More More More’  but a song which elicited much discussion in the playground was written and sung by an unknown black British woman, Joan Armatrading. The opening unaccompanied lines of ‘Love and Affection’ 

                        “I’m not in love

                         But I’m open to persuasion” 

must be amongst the powerful of any song in the Seventies. When the acoustic guitar kicked in, you were hooked. It dragged on a bit for me so didn’t register high on my list back then. Nevertheless, something different never hurt!

Elton John took his mix of piano ballads and rock to the States, generating more sales but also pissing off the right-wing bible-bashers who considered him the devil incarnate. And he hadn’t even come out as gay! Over here, it was his unassuming Motown-esque duet ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ with Kiki Dee which captured British hearts, occupying the number one spot throughout the summer holidays. I didn’t much like it, but Elton’s comic turn in the promo film was quite engaging. 

Paul McCartney and Wings were unfortunate to miss out on a number one single in ’76. Both ‘Silly Love Songs’ and ‘Let ‘Em In’ both peaked at two in the charts, but I liked them both. While they were separate entities, I still think of them as parts of a pair. Paul’s bass is really prominent in the former, while the latter is an unashamedly lightweight piano-driven song. As with the nursery rhyme ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’, only McCartney could manufacture a big hit from such simple material: a rollcall of friends, family and heroes knocking on his door.

Earlier I waxed lyrical about 10cc’s ‘I’m Not in Love’. However, it was their 1976 single ‘I’m Mandy, Fly Me’ which was, and remains, my favourite track from their brilliant back catalogue. It starts out as another gentle Eric Stewart ballad before taking off into all sorts of weird directions thanks, presumably, to Kevin Godley’s influence. Impossible to dance to, but it’s wonderful to listen to: the best song of the year. Sadly it marked the end of 10cc as a foursome. Godley and Crème departed to be creative in different fields, notably the development of the music video throughout the Eighties. Stewart and Gouldman kept going (but not as 5cc!) and with such an enormous writing and performing pedigree, enjoyed further hits until Stewart suffered an injury which kept him out of the studio. The magical momentum was lost and one of the great bands was no more.

But they weren’t my favourite artists of the year. Without any doubt whatsoever, that accolade went to the group who dominated our charts in 1976. Not British, not American, but Swedish! They were, of course, ABBA. 

‘Waterloo’ had promised to be a one-hit Eurovision wonder until ‘S.O.S’ came to the rescue at the end of 1975. A few months later, ’Mamma Mia’ finally knocked ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ off its perch. I must admit it left me distinctly underwhelmed. However, come April, their first masterpiece blew me away. ‘Fernando’’s intro of woodwind and gentle military drum rolls immediately creates a special mood, but when Frida sings the first verse, it practically brings tears to my eyes.The chorus brings some happiness to the story but the whole package made me realise ABBA were no passing fad.

Even better was to follow. Returning from our coach holiday through Europe at the end of August, the big news on the Sunday evening Top 20 show was the surge of ‘Dancing Queen’ from sixteen to one. It took only one listen to recognise an instant classic. That opening piano glissando was thrilling and the rest of the record didn’t disappoint either. As ever, the ABBA crew lavished time and lots of love on the production. Benny and Bjorn have since explained how they weren’t prolific, but they worked darned hard to perfect what songs they had written; I guess it’s hard to make a song sound simple. The more you listen, the more recognisable little bells and whistles you can pick up. Not literally ‘bells and whistles’ but the little strings motifs, the ‘high hat’ cymbal, the choral “ah ah-ah”s, the six-note piano bit are all as familiar as the melody and the infectious beat. The video may not have captured the essence but it must be one of the best dance records ever made. 

No sooner had ‘Dancing Queen’ slipped out of the chart, ‘Money, Money, Money’ was released for Christmas. It must have sold plenty but was held at three. I remember going Christmas shopping in Chelmsford, mooching around Dace’s music shop seeking inspiration. ‘Money, Money, Money’ was playing and the main display featured piles of the new ABBA album, ‘Arrival’. I don’t think I bought either, but I did purchase the year’s bestselling LP, the group’s first Greatest Hits collection. For Mum, of course, but we could all enjoy ABBA. 

Disappointingly there was no ‘Dancing Queen’ but I did discover a few other songs which had charted but failed to attract my attention. ‘I Do I Do I Do I Do I Do’ (there are five!), ‘Ring Ring’ and ‘Honey Honey’ had that distinctive ABBA style, as well as typical repeated words in the title. The LP must have been the first proper ‘greatest hits’ record I ever bought. Their next one was probably ABBA’s second. As the brand new album that December declared, the Swedish quartet had arrived. With the musical ‘Mamma Mia’ and later generations of music lovers perpetuating their musical legacy, they have never really departed.

1975 – It’s just a silly phase I’m going through

There was a distinct shift of power in the pop charts in 1975. That perspective can come only from the future, of course, but I remember feeling that something was missing. Maybe it was the death of Glam, maybe my attaining the grand old age of 14, grieving for lost youth as I started my O Level courses. I have read an article by Saint Etienne’s Bob Stanley who wrote in passing that 1975 was one of a few years notable for the awfulness of their music. A subjective viewpoint, of course, but it’s  interesting to see a respected musician and journalist supporting my humble opinion.

Despite never attending a proper disco in my school life, there was no excuse for being unaware of the genre. Songs like ‘Disco Stomp’ (Hamilton Bohannon) and ‘Disco Queen’ (Hot Chocolate) did what it says on the tin. However, I preferred other records which didn’t try so hard.  The Bee Gees reinvented themselves with the funky ‘Jive Talkin’’ and Hot Chocolate released the immortal ‘You Sexy Thing’. It would have topped the chart were it not for possibly the greatest record ever made, Shit happens, Errol!

I remember returning from our summer holiday on Mallorca, always eager to find out what had been happening in the UK charts while in our Balearic bubble. The major movement was the rise of two great songs from the USA. George McCrae’s ‘It’s Been So Long’ was my favourite of the year, and it competed for the number four spot with KC and the Sunshine Band’s finest moment on vinyl, ‘That’s the Way I Like It’. Just watch this clip and try resisting the temptation to dance and join in the “Woo-oo-oo”s at the beginning and the “uh-huh”s during the chorus. Dig that brass section, man! I liked it in ’75 but it’s improved with age.

I also enjoyed Van McCoy’s ludicrously catchy semi-symphonic ‘The Hustle’, which made number three in June. It had the edge over that other dance move of the year: ‘The Bump’ by Kenny! The group’s children’s TV presenter-style clothes and bouncy performances were simultaneously irritating and fun.

There were no disco chart-toppers over here but the Philly sound was more successful in the form of The Stylistics. As more singles were released, their chart positions seemed to improve slowly and in 1975 the jaunty ‘Sing Baby Sing’ reached three. This was trumped by the magnificent ‘I Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love)’ in August. Russell Thompson Jnr’s falsetto soared wider even than his afro!

David Bowie had morphed into the Thin White Duke but I didn’t like his soul era. Thank goodness for the re-release of ‘Space Oddity’ which went to number one that autumn. This used to be one of my all-time favourites but has since slipped down the list. Still great, though: and a successful musical story with a sad ending is so rare.                                                  

It was also a big year for Country and Western, as we then called it. Oh, C&W. All that drawlin’ and mewlin’ about lervin’, cheatin’, drinkin’ and a-prayin’ by rednecks who think the world is a poorer place since the abolition of slavery. And then there are all the ‘yee-hahs’. Aarghhh! Yet, strangely 1975 gave us a few Country songs I – er - actually quite liked.

Not Tammy Wynette’s awful ‘Stand By Man’, which took the UK by storm in the Spring. In a year when gender equality took a giant leap closer thanks to the Sex Discrimination Act, the sentiments seemed slightly at odds with the mood of the times. In contrast, two other songs surprised me by sounding rather good. First, Ray Stevens stopped streaking and returned to his Country roots by delivering a rollicking piano-banjo version of ‘Misty’. Later, I also found myself enjoying the be-permed Billy-Jo Spears’ ‘Blanket on the Ground’. Fortunately that was pretty much it as far as good Country & Western was concerned. Sorry, Dolly, but normal service was quickly resumed!

Northern Soul was gaining in popularity and, as with so many local ‘underground’ musical movements, related record sales took the genre into the national mainstream. I’d no inkling of what Northern Soul was. I don’t suppose I’d have recognised the term even if I’d lived next-door to one of the hotbeds of the movement, Wigan Casino! Apparently, revivals such as ‘Ghost in My House’ owed their success to Northern Soul DJs and, in turn, future stars like Soft Cell would create new audiences for mid-‘70s songs such as Gloria Jones’ ‘Tainted Love’. 

Had I been sufficiently motivated to read more about it I’d have worked out why two artists in the 1975 charts had Wigan in their names. Wigan’s Chosen Few were created to accompany the instrumental dance track ‘Footsie’ and, more my cup of tea back then, Wigan’s Ovation recorded the more ‘poppy’ ‘Skiing in the Snow’. I never did reconcile a song about winter sports with an industrial town in the North West! Regardless, both made Top of the Pops and did well. 

South East England experienced a notable heatwave that summer and, for me, three records represent those weeks spent sweltering in the classroom or sitting at home, windows wide open. Brian Hyland’s early Sixties hit ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was suitably slow and sultry, and one-hit wonders Typically Tropical (how apt!) topped the chart with ‘Barbados’. I’ve never been to the island personally but that August, we had to improvise and make some subtle alterations to the lyrics: “Woah! We’re going to Mallorca!” And we were “flying away on Britannia (not Coconut) Airways”. 

At the time of my fourteenth birthday, 10cc were back at the top with the ageless ‘I’m Not in Love’. A few months earlier, I’d enjoyed the punning whimsy of ‘Life is a Minestrone’ but this was a whole new ball game. It was such an innovative sound, with those painstakingly multi-tracked and looped “aaahhhhhhh”s behind Eric Stewart’s electronic piano, gentle vocals and subtle sentiments expressed in clever lyrics. Just imagine a hot Sunday afternoon with that ‘choir’ wafting softly on a light breeze; ‘I’m Not In Love’ would be perfect. 

1975 was the year Rod Stewart armed himself with eyeliner and other cosmetics, and made his Atlantic Crossing to conquer America. The first step was, appropriately enough, the single, ‘Sailing’, which became the second biggest seller in the UK.  It wasn’t my favourite, but it’s an example of how simplicity works. By coincidence, ‘Sailing’ kept another nautical song at number two, ‘The Last Farewell’ by Roger Whittaker. Rod was travelling “to be near you, to be free” but Rog seemed to be sailing home, leaving his love behind. In his chart hits, he always seemed to be off somewhere: leaving Durham Town, heading “over the sea to Skye”. Never mind; you couldn’t dislike Roger Whittaker. He’d been on children’s TV quite a bit, usually showing off his whistling skills, and he had the kind, avuncular appeal of an unpretentious entertainer, certainly not a pop star! Oddly, ‘The Last Farewell’ did much better in the States than ‘Sailing’ but Rod hasn’t looked back since! 

There were other slowies which I didn’t much like but were hard to avoid. Ralph McTell’s ‘Streets of London’ was more to Mum’s taste than mine, and Minnie Ripperton’s ‘Lovin’ You’ – including those irritating chirping birds and eye-wateringly high notes – was possibly better suited to canines. Then there was ‘If’ by Telly Savalas. It was a big year for the American TV cop show ‘Kojak’ but for some reason its star believed he could be a serious recording artist, too. Women did seem to find his deep speaking voice rather sexy but I found a whole song of him intoning the lyrics sheer hell! If Telly’s musical career encouraged William Shatner’s similar move, then ‘If’ has even more to answer for than I originally thought. 

In the credit column I would place the number ones, the dreamy ‘I Only Have Eyes For You’ by Art Garfunkel and Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel’s delightful ‘Come Up and See Me, Make Me Smile’ (I love that acoustic middle eight). Meanwhile John Lennon took ‘Imagine’ to number six, well before it attained classic status. 

Fox were a band with a different vibe, mostly down to the voice and hippyish poses of singer Susan Traynor. I liked their number three hit ‘Only You Can’ and their 1976 effort, ‘S-s-s-single Bed’. One of my faves of the year was ‘If You Think You Know How to Love Me’ by Smokey (later re-named Smokie, after Smokey Robinson threatened legal action!). They’d apparently been around in some form or other for years but once Chinn and Chapman sprinkled their writing/production stardust, they broke through at last. Chris Norman’s croaky vocals, the acoustic guitar, backing harmonies and quality songs made for a winning formula, repeated on the follow-up ‘Don’t Play Your Rock’n’Roll to Me’. Smokie are probably best known for ‘Living Next Door To Alice’, but only because it was appropriated and desecrated years later by Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown. I insist that their 1975 singles are far superior.

At the start of the year, Mum liked Pilot’s ‘January’ so much we actually bought it for her birthday. For me, the only memorable thing about it was the double-necked guitar they played on TOTP! Singer-writer-bassist David Paton had apparently been part of the Bay City Rollers a few years earlier but I’m not sure he fitted in with the new incarnation of the Rollers, who stood head, shoulders and platform shoes above the rest. 

They’d been building their reputation amongst teenage girls throughout the previous twelve months but as soon as Les McKeown sang the first line of ‘Bye Bye Baby’ in early ’75, they went stratospheric. ‘Rollermania’ out-did anything generated by the Osmonds, David Cassidy or indeed any band since The Beatles. Girls burst into tears at the very thought of Les, Eric, Woody, Alan and Derek. Boys didn’t get a look-in! I hadn’t been aware of The Four Seasons’ original, but the Rollers sold a million in no time at all. 

‘Give A Little Love’ was their summer love song, a chart-topper while I was confined to bed ill at Uncle David’s. However, when they released ‘Money Honey’ in the autumn, it already felt like their day had gone. They never had another number one single and Britain was faced with a pile of unwanted plaid. Modern girls whose mums and grandmothers roll their eyes at their obsession with One Direction, Justin Bieber or whoever, should just ask about that box of yellowing posters and tartan scarves in the attic….. 

Another of my picks from the year’s pop crop was Carpenters’ ‘Please Mister Postman’. As with ‘Bye Bye Baby’, I was ignorant of the song’s origins, but it didn’t matter. However, the passing years have not been kind to this record. It’s that dreaded Country vibe again; give me one of their straightforward ballads any day. 

Researching for this memoir when my own mind failed me led me to the opinion that 1975 must have had more comedy or novelty records than possibly any other. As with anything in life, humour can be very personal and subjective, and so these humorous songs were very hit and miss. I can’t say I was a fan of Windsor Davies and Don Estelle’s ‘Whispering Grass’ yet, performed as their characters from BBC sitcom ‘It Ain’t Half Hot Mum’, it was curiously engaging and was the fourth biggest seller of the year! “Sing, Lofty!” It wasn’t strictly speaking a comedy record. Estelle sang it straight in his impeccable tenor but Davies brought his Sergeant-Majorly Welsh baritone to the spoken section and OTT gurning to their TOTP performances. 

Billy Connolly was just beginning to make a name for himself as a comic and actor but the trouble was that his Glaswegian accent was almost incomprehensible to anyone south of Hadrian’s Wall. His re-write of Tammy Wynette’s ‘D.I.V.O.R.C.E.’ proved a major step towards his achieving eventual national treasure status. However, hearing the song again reminded me that the song wasn’t funny at all. Forget the words and simply watch Billy; he just made you want to laugh. 

Meanwhile, Max Boyce managed a feat that even Billy Connolly couldn’t: a number one album. The charismatic musician and songwriter had become an icon of South Wales and, boosted by a few late-evening network TV series, had spread his fanbase way beyond Cardiff, Swansea and the Valleys. Everyone was going “Oggi oggi, ogg, oi, oi, oi!” even if we didn’t know one end of a (giant) leek from the other. Max didn’t just write rugby-related crowdpleasers or humorous tales; there were also a lot of wistful ballads reflecting his own mining community heritage. Dad and I had become so enamoured of his showmanship and mix of musical material that I actually bought his ‘The Incredible Plan’ LP. From its success, obviously I wasn’t the only one. 

At Christmas, I also purchased the single of Laurel and Hardy’s ‘Trail of the Lonesome Pine’, ostensibly for Mum and Dad but really for me. To be honest, for all their comedy genius, I’ve never been a fan of the musical bits in their films; they just get in the way of that wonderful slapstick and looks to camera that left me helpless with laughter. This excerpt from ‘Way Out West’ was an exception. There were bits we could all act out, and it had the temerity to hit number two in the chart. 

Now if ‘disco’ in the title meant you had to dance, then ‘funky’ signalled the opportunity to laugh. Two top five songs demonstrated that it was working. Neither song contained anything resembling actual funk, unless the ‘k’ is silent! First, The Goodies transferred their TV popularity to Top of the Pops with ‘Funky Gibbon’. Completely pointless, but as with much of Bill Oddie’s musical contributions, who cared? Here were grown men from Oxbridge dressed in colourful clothes prancing around like apes, and we loved it! Brummie ‘stand-up’ Jasper Carrott was less familiar to me, featuring mainly on ITV. That changed when he released ‘Funky Moped’. Essentially a silly tale of a girlfriend lost to another bloke with a bike, it was a decent semi-rock record you could dance to. Also, you can’t beat lines like:- 

        “As soon as me moped’s front mudguard is fixed,

        Gonna find the creep and put him down (down, down…)”! 

A lot of comedy doesn’t stand the test of time. After all, once you’ve heard a punchline, or the twist in a tall tale, it’s lost the element of surprise. But if you have a funny song without jokes, you have an enduring winner.

As in the previous year, my 14 year-old self didn’t really pick out any authentic classics in 1975. Until the end of November, that is. That was when I and all my contemporaries were first exposed to the jaw-dropping promo film for the new single by Queen called ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. From the opening silhouettes to the man with the gong, I remember being enthralled. I had no clue what it as about. “Beelzebub has a devil for a sideboard…”? All those Galileos and Piccolos? Four decades of documentaries and interviews with Freddie, Brian, Roger and Eric, and countless listens haven’t really enlightened me, either. But so what? All the effort required to write and record it certainly paid off. It was number one for nine weeks, then for a further five upon its re-release in the wake of Freddie Mercury’s death in 1991. ‘Wayne’s World’ then gave us the immortal headbanging in the car scene, but ‘Bo Rhap’ still looks and sounds fresh.  

Records commonly touted as The Best Ever usually have a negative effect on me yet I cannot think of another which combines melody, mood, rhythm, rock, innovation and invention in such an unforgettable way. Brian May recently said that he still enjoyed listening to the track when it came on the radio, and it wasn’t just ego talking. For all Bohemian Rhapsody’s history and intellectual dissection, I absolutely agree with him. It sounds as absorbing as it did the first time I heard it. Click on this reference link to remind yourself of Queen’s six-minute magnum opus and the film which launched the whole pop video industry.