Iiiiit's Chriiiist-maaaaas!

Christmas is, of course, a time for music. It’s the season not only to be jolly but also to bathe in the warm, soapy waters of traditional songs. Yet what counts as tradition has changed markedly in my lifetime. 

As a child, Christmas music meant carols. That’s it. Pop songs come and go but the tunes and words of festive hymns stay with us for life. I think my favourite from primary school was ‘Away in a Manger’, with ‘Silent Night’ the best for atmosphere and ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ or ‘While Shepherds Watched’ for a bit of up-tempo Crimbo. 'O Come All Ye Faithful' was more for grown-ups and I still think you can keep the dreary ‘In the Deep Midwinter’.

Growing older, I have disassociated myself from the religious element of carols and just listen to them as pleasant memories of Christmases past. A few years ago, as a member of the Quantock Musical Theatre Company, I performed a range of carols and other songs at various events through November and December. It gave me a new perspective, learning harmonies and singing tenor parts which may or may not be the melody ingrained in my head for five decades or so!

I did discover the history behind some of them. The ‘Coventry Carol’ sounded enchanting, though I say it myself. They could write tunes in the sixteenth century after all, I also enjoyed singing ‘Gaudete’. When Steeleye Span took it into the charts in 1973, I hadn’t appreciated it was even a Christmas song, nor that it was sung in Latin. Once you know that ‘Gaudete’ means ‘Rejoice’, a slight knowledge of French or Spanish is enough to understand the following lines in the chorus, “Christus est natus, ex-Maria virgine, Gaudete!” translates as “Christ is born of the Virgin Mary, rejoice!” I don’t have a recording of any of the QMTC a capella performances but the link above features Maddy Prior and her folky fellows doing their stuff.

Yet, away from the school hall, shopping centres or railway stations, carols are rarely heard these days. Once November begins, you start to take note of the muzak in shops. As the Hallowe-en masks are whisked back into store, and the fireworks are flogged at a huge discount, suddenly the shops are filled with the sight of tinsel and Santas, and the sound of Jonah Lewie’s “Dum-a-lum-a-lum-lum”s and Roy Wood’s school choir. When did the Christmas pop song become the ‘new tradition’?

There were no such hits in the Sixties that I can recall. I since learned about Harry Belafonte’s ‘Mary Boy Child’ from 1957, which was the first UK million-selling single. That same year, not even Elvis could elevate ‘Santa Bring my Baby Back to Me’ above seven in the charts. I had to make do with endless repeats on Junior Choice of someone lithping hith way through ‘All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth’.

It's just as well that carols were omnipresent because there were no other festive Christmas number ones to celebrate. From ‘Moon River’ to ‘Green Green Grass of Home’, they were always major hits, but nary a jingle bell to be heard. ‘Lily the Pink’, ‘Two Little Boys’, ‘Grandad’ and 'Ernie' introduced the formula of family-friendly novelty records before John Lennon, Yoko and the Plastic Ono Band released the bitter-sweet ‘Happy Xmas (War is Over)’ in 1972, hopefully bringing the Vietnam War’s demise closer. Sadly people preferred to buy Chuck Berry's 'My Ding-a-Ling'. Fortunately, the next year we had some home-grown fare to enjoy, with Slade, Wizzard and Elton John, besides some long-forgotten festive comedy songs.

Throughout the Seventies the big Christmas songs piled up (the unfairly-neglected 'We Wish You a Wombling Merry Christmas', Greg Lake, Johnny Mathis et al), before a short hiatus. That came to an end in 1984. When Bob Geldof assembled a ‘who’s who’ of British pop at Sarm West Studios on Sunday 25^th November to record a song he’s composed with Midge Ure, with the sole purpose of raising millions for the victims of the Ethiopian famine, the Christmas charity phenomenon was born. The massive free publicity for Band Aid’s ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’, including piles of the hastily-pressed  singles in all shops and a five-minute broadcast of the promo video on BBC1, generated sales of more than three million.  

Of course, it helped that the song itself was a cracker: it was simultaneously a catchy singalong festive number and a tear-jerking reminder of why we should sometimes think of others worse off than ourselves. OK, so some of the lyrics were lazy but the message reached its target. Most of those performers are still household names, too, which is more than can be said for most participating in Band Aid 2 and Band Aid 20. More importantly, we realised that music could genuinely change the world. 

‘Do They Know it’s Christmas?’ even had the resilience to bring in more money for the Band Aid charity in three successive generations of pop royalty, although none could possibly match the punch packed by the original in ’84. Spare a thought for Wham, Gary Glitter and Queen. They all chose that winter to release their own Christmas classics. ‘Last Christmas’ sold a million without reaching number one but has proved to be one of the most popular, endearing seasonal songs and, following George Michael's Christmas death in 2016, could yet top the chart thanks to millions of streams in 2017.

The following year, the still-young ‘NOW’ brand released ‘The Christmas Album’, its first UK Christmas compilation. I know I bought it. With none of those dreadful Phil Spector productions, it was a great collection of British chart hits (but not Boney M’s ‘Mary’s Boy Child’) from Band Aid to Bing Crosby. Now the stores had something to play to get shoppers in the festive mood. They haven’t stopped since. 

Apart from the later versions of Band Aid, Shakin’ Stevens’ ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ and a couple of Cliff Richard crimes against music, there have been no true Christmas number ones in the intervening thirty years. I don’t count East 17’s ‘Stay Another Day’ from 1994. Adding some chimes and sleighbells, and dressing the baseball-capped bad boy boy-band in white fur doesn’t really make it a Christmas song in my book. Nevertheless, if it’s one of Angie’s festive faves, clearly mine isn’t the only opinion. 

Topping the charts on 25^th December isn’t the only symbol of Christmas success. Jonah Lewie (‘Don’t Stop the Cavalry’), Greg Lake (I Believe in Father Christmas’), Mariah Carey (‘All I Want for Christmas is You’) and the extraordinary collaboration between Kirsty McColl and the Pogues (‘Fairytale of New York’) each fell agonisingly short of the top spot.  

Songs which tell a sentimental story at Christmas often do well. That’s probably why the bitter-sweet Irish-American ballad, Lewie’s wartime soldier’s thoughts and Chris Rea’s ‘Driving Home for Christmas’, something we can all recognise, are arguably more popular now than they were when first released. 

In November 2013, Leona Lewis released a career-rescuing single, ‘One More Sleep’. I’m no fan of Lewis and her skin-crawling Carey-esque embellishments, but the song did seem to tick the right boxes when it comes to ingredients for a Christmas winner. Ironically it was blocked by the latest X Factor winner, Sam Bailey, an artist pretty much ignored ever since. I wonder if ‘One More Sleep’ becomes the ‘Fairytale of New York’ twenty years hence? Possibly, but probably not. 

In my humble opinion, ‘Pop Idol’ and ‘The X Factor’ have destroyed the whole excitement of The Christmas Number One’ in the past decade. Thanks so much, Simon Cowell! Apart from a few one-off charity records and an anti X Factor protest pipping the likes of Joe McElderry and James Arthur, ITV’s overblown ego and tear-fest has taken over, and the Christmas song has suffered in consequence. But there is a chink of light: the failures of the 2015 and 2016 winners has perhaps opened the door to a return. 

Probably everybody who wanted to buy the Christmas classics has already done so. However, the easy access to the tracks online and the changing chart rules in favour of streaming does seem to have given them a new lease of life. For the first time in years, Wham, Carey and The Pogues are all queuing up to depose Ed Sheeran and a potential flurry of charity efforts.

Just as long as there are no American Sixties re-runs, spacemen comin' a travellin', mistletoe or wine, I don't mind. For just a few weeks a year, even this Scrooge can cope with a cracking Christmas tune. I'll leave you with surely the best of them all. Take it away, Slade, and 'Merry Christmas Everybody'!

1974 – Well, I know I'm not super hip

Ah, 1974. The year when I entered my teens. I may have had some unforgiveable strops at home but at school I was all sweetness and light. I associate a lot of June and July pop with summer lunchtimes on the school field. Weather permitting, we’d have a kickaround (I was cheekily nicknamed Johan after Dutch maestro Cruyff whose ‘turn’ thrilled us all in the World Cup). On Tuesdays, we’d then sprawl on the turf listening on somebody’s tinny tranny to Radio 1’s revelation of the new charts. There was barely time to hear the number one just before 1pm, when we had to scamper back to class.

Whenever I hear tracks such as R Dean Taylor’s ‘There’s a Ghost in My House’, Cockney Rebel’s ‘Judy Teen’ or Showaddywaddy’s debut ‘Hey, Rock’n’Roll’ I can almost smell the new-mown grass and post-football sweat!

Another big hit in the summer term was ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us’ by Sparks. Back then, it had mere novelty value but now I regard it as a Seventies classic. Russell Mael’s frantic falsetto and the peculiar piano poses of brother Ron – dubbed by us ‘the Sparks loony’ – made for an unusual act. Nevertheless, the song left me breathless, and still does. Later, they turned down the pace for ‘Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth’ but the result was also highly entertaining. They’ve never stopped working either. While not often troubling the charts, they’ve been consistent darlings of UK music journos. American-born, maybe, but surely approaching the status of British national treasures.

A young Scottish group called The Bay City Rollers were beginning to win the hearts of schoolgirls, with four top ten singles. Some long-haired art-rockers with a really ugly lead singer also released some interesting records, the best being ‘Killer Queen’. We were to hear a lot more from them! Leo Sayer’s career began at the start of the year in clown’s costume and make-up, performing the engagingly quirky ‘The Show Must Go On’ then the character was discarded for another entertaining top five single, ‘Long Tall Glasses’. However, there were also some appealing songs from performers more commonly linked to the previous decade.

Lulu took an unexpected change of musical direction with David Bowie’s ‘The Man Who Sold the World’, The Rolling Stones were back on form with ‘It’s Only Rock’n’Roll’ (the one with the promo film featuring the boys being slowly submerged in bubbles!) and The Hollies brought out possibly their best single, ‘The Air That I Breathe’, featuring a brilliant guitar intro and haunting vocals from Allan Clarke.

Paul McCartney & Wings had huge success with their album ‘Band on the Run’, and I enjoyed the title track. It was one of those singles with three distinct sections which works a treat. The album cover was also memorable for featuring Paul, Linda and Denny dressed as escaping prisoners posing with a very mixed bunch of celebrities, from Michael Parkinson to film star James Coburn and boxer John Conteh! Only The Carpenters’ ‘Singles 1969-73’ sold more albums than ‘Band on the Run’ that year.

Coincidentally, Alan Price and The Scaffold each made the top ten simultaneously with songs celebrating the towns of their birth. Not earth-shattering, but both the autobiographical ‘Jarrow Song’ and ‘Liverpool Lou’ were very catchy tunes, also heard and hummed on the Mayflower School field.

The American heartthrobs were starting to lose their grip. The Osmonds showed Louis Walsh and Boyzone the future with ‘Love Me For a Reason’ but there were no chart-toppers for Donny, Jimmy or David Cassidy. Britain was crying out for a teenybopper idol of our own, and he emerged in the form of David Essex.

He was unusual, possibly unique in progressing from musical theatre to pop. The previous year, ‘Rock On’ had been dark, dangerous, moody and mysterious, hitting number three.  While playing on Essex’s curly-haired photogenic looks, it was not pop as I knew it. ‘I’m Gonna Make You a Star’ changed all that. The Eastender became a fun entertainer with a winning smile, and, contrary to his lyric, definitely became ‘super hip’ and not at all ‘out of style’! 1975’s ‘Hold Me Close’ took him even closer to his London roots.

On the other hand, the glorious era of Glam was dissolving, but not before a few last hurrahs. Suzi Quatro and Alvin Stardust topped the charts early in ’74 with ‘Devil Gate Drive’ and ‘Jealous Mind’, respectively, while Slade narrowly missed the top spot with the semi-acoustic ‘Far, Far Away’. Gary Glitter did manage it with ‘Always Yours’, but his backing group emerged from his silvery shadow as The Glitter Band and out-sold it with the drum-heavy ‘Angel Face’. 

Away from Wizzard, Roy Wood released some solo stuff (sans wig), most notably the excellent ‘Forever’, on which he inevitably sang, wrote, produced and played all the instruments. Thereafter, whether on his own or with the band, his new music never really connected with me again. Rediscovering his Move material from the Sixties, such as the dreamy 'Blackberry Way', provided adequate compensation. 

Despite the more flamboyant costumes and ear-rings of Rob Davis, I’m not sure whether Mud were truly Glam rockers. Yes or no, the group were definitely the most successful singles artists of 1974. ‘Tiger Feet’ was fun from start to finish, as this TOTP performance proves, topping the year’s sales chart. The dance moves also live on to this day! ‘When the Cat Crept In’ provided more of the same and then in December there was Les Gray’s unashamed Elvis impression on ‘Lonely This Christmas’. I’ll never forget the TOTP performance with the spoken section mimed by a ventriloquist’s dummy. A sad, mawkish song which made you smile; only Mud could do that. 

From an early age, if you’d asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d have said a drummer. Even in the Sixties, when TOTP came on I’d take the fat wooden knitting needles from Mum’s case, arrange the cushions on an armchair and away I’d go! I don’t recall having a particular role model. Not Ringo, Charlie Watts, not even the manic Keith Moon of The Who. 

I suppose I paid more attention to drummers who sang; Dave Clark and The Tremeloes’ Dave Munden spring to mind. In 1974, there was another candidate in the bearded form of Phil Wright from Nottingham’s finest, Paper Lace. No ‘Britain’ Got Talent’ or ‘X Factor’ in those days (hallelujah!) but the Seventies equivalent ‘Opportunity Knocks’ produced a few chart-toppers of its own. Paper Lace enjoyed a year of success, starting with ‘Billy, Don’t be a Hero’. A pleasant enough song, with words we could all sing, it was the third biggest-seller of 1974, but not exactly stuff to make young boys determined to buy a drum set! 

Cozy Powell was a different kettle of fish.  Here was a genuine rocker: dark hair, pointy face and studded, leather wristband. At the start of ’74 he reached number three with what must have been the first drumming (near-) instrumental hit, ‘Dance with The Devil’. I even have the 7” single somewhere! ‘Na na-na-na’ was a more conventional pop-rock song from Cozy’s band, but I liked it, too. I don’t remember him troubling the charts again, other than as rent-a-drummer for Whitesnake, Rainbow and others. Probably the last time I pulled out the knitting needles, too.

Drums were not particularly prominent on ‘Seasons in the Sun’ but, hot on the heels of ‘Billy, Don’t be a Hero’, it gave us another number one we could all sing along to. The lyrics had undergone various transformations from Jacques Brel’s harsher, sardonic French original, but Canadian Terry Jacks’ version was a sentimental ballad which went on to sell millions worldwide. What I remember was TOTP spending weeks trying to locate film of Terry Jacks performing the song, having had to make do with endless re-runs of Pan’s People swaying to the melody. They finally tracked down a performance of Jacks just before it was displaced by the Eurovision winner. 

And what a winner that was! Held in Brighton, the Contest resulted in a first triumph for Sweden, the first by a band and the first sung in English by a non-UK nation. The victors were, of course, ABBA; the song, ‘Waterloo’. I recall first the conductor dressed as Napoleon, then the foursome seemed even more outlandish in glam-rock outfits. Cliff Richard, it wasn’t! If the Swedes weren’t sufficiently different, heaven knows what the continental audience thought of The Wombles as the interval act! 

Although it signalled a dramatic sea-change in the competition, I didn’t especially like ‘Waterloo’ at the time. Yes, I preferred it to Olivia Newton-John’s old-style jolly Eurovision stomper but then who didn’t?! The ’74 Contest also stands out in my mind because no fewer than four of that year’s participants made the UK top ten. They were all very different, too, each with their own appeal. Besides Abba and Olivia, there were oddball Dutch duo Mouth and MacNeal (‘I See a Star’) and Italian Gigliola Cinquetti (‘Si’) who’d won ten years previously. It was probably the first and last time our charts had such a continental look, and had so many Eurovision songs I liked. 

1974 also brought us a couple of chart-toppers which played on social and cultural flavours of the day. For some reason, the practice of people stripping off and enlivening/ruining* (*delete as applicable) sporting events by ‘streaking’ (i.e. running around naked) had gathered momentum, mainly in the States. The versatile, tongue-in-cheek American Ray Stevens knocked up a cheeky novelty song ‘The Streak’ which duly sold plenty on both sides of the Atlantic. It amused schoolkids like me of course, but fortunately none of us was tempted to streak ourselves! 

That autumn, it was kung fu’s turn to hog the UK pop spotlight. Bruce Lee had died the previous year but I wonder what he’d have made of Jamaican Carl Douglas and ‘Kung Fu Fighting’. More martial farce than martial arts, it was nonetheless a catchy chunk of funk-pop which caught the zeitgeist. Huu-hh! It wasn’t really “a little bit frightening” but Douglas and his producer/co-writer Biddu certainly “did it with expert timing”. Hahh! 

Another Jamaican chopped ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ from the top spot. I had, and still have, a soft spot for Ken Boothe’s smooth ‘rock steady’ cover of David Gates’ ‘Everything I Own’. Or ‘Anyting I own’, as Boothe insisted on singing. Until Bob Marley hit the mainstream, this was my favourite reggae-ish song. In fact, it probably still is. 

Another beautiful slow number was Hot Chocolate’s ‘Emma’. The group famously enjoyed a top ten single in each year of the Seventies but it wasn’t until this tear-jerker that I sat up and took notice. Most of their hits were more up-tempo but the rhythm and lyrics of ‘Emma’ were absorbing. Watch this clip and I dare you not to be moved by Errol Brown’s performance, especially his eyebrows. Somebody, just give him a hug! While this was the year of classic ballads ‘Candle in the Wind’ and ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’, it was Errol, not Elton, for me. 

Back at the lower end of the spectrum of ‘cool’, two other acts caught my ear and eye. The Rubettes sprung from nowhere to pop royalty status in 1974 thanks to ‘Sugar Baby Love’ and that piercing falsetto intro by early lead vocalist Paul da Vinci. I actually preferred their December hit ‘Juke Box Jive’ by which time their much-parodied (mainly by The Goodies!) white berets and jackets were losing their novelty value! Also, what use was our brand new colour TV if the costumes were black and white?! 

The other ‘band’ had their origins not in a studio but in a series of children’s books and subsequent TV series. Yes, folks, I’m talking about those cuddly litter-pickers from Wimbledon and Eurovision entertainers, The Wombles. Their debut was simply the programme’s theme tune: “Underground, overground, wombling free….” and seemed destined to be a one-hit wonder. After all, what can you do with a bunch of imaginary furry creatures? The vocals sounded to me like Bernard Cribbins who’d narrated the TV animation, but of course in reality the music, production and singing were all the responsibility of Mike Batt, then still in his early twenties. How was I to know that Batt was a talented composer and musician who would turn The Wombles into one of 1974’s biggest-selling acts? The second single, ‘Remember You’re a Womble’, proved his pedigree. Indeed, it had all the hallmarks of Roy Wood and tongue-in-cheek 10cc, which is high praise indeed: a nod to rock’n’roll here, a burst of folky fiddle there and a catchy chorus. Of course, the lyrics were hardly awe-inspiring. You didn’t want to be heard walking to school singing: 

            “When it's foggy on the common and you just can't see
             And I womble into you and you womble into me”! 

Yet it was a genuine pop-rock song, and the magic formula also took ‘We Wish You a Wombling Merry Christmas’ to number two. Why it’s rarely played or featured on Christmas compilations is beyond me. It’s neglect on a criminal scale! In between they even introduced audiences simultaneously to Mozart and waltz via ‘Minuetto Allegretto’. Fun, educational and, thanks to their tidying exploits on Wimbledon Common, environmentally-friendly icons, too. The Wombles were way ahead of their time! 

For all the likeable chart entrants I’ve mentioned, at the time I felt there were few stand-out songs. My contemporary favourite was ‘I Get a Kick out of You’, which Australian folkie Gary Shearston took to number seven. I’d no idea it had been a Cole Porter composition from the Thirties; I just loved the acoustic rhythm and the violin bit in the middle!

Meanwhile, the charts were starting to fill with a new American sound. Motown had been everywhere for a decade but now we were hearing danceable records featuring lush production with strings (e.g. Barry White) and brass (including Hues Corporation’s ‘Rock the Boat’). I particularly recall being struck by the piercing ‘whoooos’ on the fast and furious ‘Queen of Clubs’ by KC and The Sunshine Band. Then there were the stuttering vocals on Bachman Turner Overdrive’s ‘You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet’, forever linked in my head with Harry Enfield’s Nineties DJ comedy creation ‘Nicey’: “Let’s ROCK!"

Yet perhaps the most enduring song from 1974 was another co-written and produced by Harry (KC) Casey, and recorded, purely because he happened to be in the studio at the time, by George McCrae. ‘Rock Your Baby’ lured you in with that sexy shuffle beat, followed by that keyboard melody and disco guitar, before George’s stunning falsetto took you to a different place altogether. It sounded like a love song but with such an infectious rhythm made you want to dance at the same time. It has been retrospectively labelled the first disco number one but at the time it was just a delicious record with the falsetto, open shirt and keyboards pre-dating the Saturday Night Fever Bee Gees by three years. Disco had arrived!