1995 – See our friends, See the sights!

Fed up with a life of frustrating singledom, this was the year I tried to take control of my own destiny. Tantalised by those new-fangled dating pages in the free local newspapers, I made a few tentative contacts. Later in the year, attracted by an advert seen on the Tube, I joined Dateline. It wasn’t about the internet back then, of course; just sending personal details and receiving five contact numbers. You could also subscribe to a magazine which proved more successful in actually meeting people. I had several autumn dates, some promising, some not. No girlfriend, but at least I enjoyed getting out and about in London, visiting unfamiliar corners of the capital and experiencing a different form of social life, post-Rotaract..

None of the encounters involved music. Maybe that’s where I went wrong. Instead, my principal link with the latest sounds remained that frail and frayed umbilical cord connected to TOTP and the Radio 1 chart show. Neither were the appointment to view or listen they once were, of course and the ‘papers offered a chance to keep up with the charts for my diary. Actually there was some decent stuff to listen to, although much of it could be bracketed under Britpop.

Amidst the increasing dominant hip-hop and R’n’B scene, largely white guitar bands were suddenly everywhere. Not just in the clubs where they had always been, but on the radio and telly. Radio 1 really championed the genre, and so it also entered my own precious little world. And about time, too.

I didn’t necessarily lump all the artists together under one media-friendly banner. Sleeper’s ‘Vegas’ just sounded different, and had the additional benefit of singer Louise Wener. I could, and often did, lose myself in her big brown eyes. And she was single! AND from London? Dream on! It was followed by another excellent single ‘What Do I Do Now?’ but Wener was soon to put music to one side and become a highly regarded novelist. Those eyes strayed elsewhere…

Sonya Maden also made a splash in ’95. Not just because she was a front woman, but also because she was an ASIAN frontwoman. To me, that wasn’t significant. More importantly, her band Echobelly purveyed a similarly appealing brand of pop-rock. I particularly liked ‘King of the Kerb’. No ladies amongst The Levellers, but the ‘crusty’ band enjoyed a rare hit with ‘Hope Street’, which became one of my favourites of the year. 

Those loveable lads from Oxford, Supergrass, finally cracked it with ‘Alright’, smashing in at number two in July. I may never have been tempted to “smoke a fag, put it out” or “got some cash, bought some wheels, took it out through some fields, lost controls, hit a wall” but its frenetic pace and joyous outdoor video nonetheless evoked images of summer holidays past and deserved its success. Gaz Coombs’ simian sideburns were definitely a symbol of ’95, and the band produced a number of top-quality songs across the whole decade.

Another under-rated act was The Lightning Seeds. By 1995, they were expanding from being Ian Broudie’s studio project into a proper touring band, and it was their top 20 single ‘Lucky You’ which made me sit up and listen. Match of the Day’s adoption of the instrumental intro to ‘The Life of Riley’ to accompany the Goal of the Month competition clips also raised the band’s profile and the following year Broudie became forever associated with football and lad-dom, of which more later.

Another group which finally found their moment was Pulp. I’d never heard of them until ‘Common People’ flew into the top three at the start of June. Jarvis Cocker’s unfashionable glasses, clothes and geeky, gawky limbs stood out in so many ways, while his perceptive lyrics begged to be heard, enjoyed and repeated. However, it was their performance of the song as their finale at Glastonbury a few weeks later (on a programme called 4 at Glastonbury – none of the saturation BBC coverage back then) that really made an impression. Apparently they had only been included after The Stone Roses pulled out and it had been feared the Glasto crowd would have booed them off the stage. Quite the opposite; ‘Common People’ became part of the festival folklore. I wasn’t ‘there’, but I did see it on the telly that night.

By the end of the year, I actually preferred ‘Sorted – For Es and Wizz’ which also reached number two. The Press predictably slated it as a grotesque advert for drugs. Listen to the bloody lyrics! More memorable was Cocker’s performance at the start of the 1996 Brits broadcast, ending with him  soaring high above the auditorium in a wire singing “What if I never come down?”! An hour or so later, his position as media hate figure and simultaneous man of the people was firmly set in stone as he mischievously mooned in front of Michael Jackson’s much-hyped Messiah depiction while singing ‘Earth Song’. Consequently I’ll never hear a bad word about Jarvis, one of the truly great eccentric British pop stars and a damned fine songwriter to boot. Meanwhile, that once all-conquering American genius had dipped beyond parody.

But of course, retrospectives of 1995 tend to focus primarily on the supposed bitter rivalry between Blur and Oasis…. The country was allegedly split in two. Forget the Brexit division; this was far more significant! North v South. Art school v Old school. Middle class v Working class. Cocaine v cannabis. When Blur’s ‘Country House’ was released on the same day in July as Oasis brought out ‘Roll With It’, the race to number one was dubbed the Battle of Britpop. The result made the national TV news. The winners were…..Blur! Ironically, neither song was anywhere near their best.

The following singles releases were, in my opinion, possibly their finest. The strings intro and verse for ‘The Universal’ are simply stunning, and have since achieved lasting fame through use in British Gas adverts. Subtle Graham Coxon guitar and Alex James bass and mature vocals from Damon Albarn came together nicely, and they could do it live, as this ‘Later….’ performance demonstrates. Rather too much brass for my liking, perhaps, but nevertheless I was shocked that it went straight in at five only to make an unceremonious slide.

Meanwhile, Oasis were robbed of a number one spot for ‘Wonderwall’, the pinnacle of the Britpop production line. Gone were the Grunge guitars and the angry Liam Gallagher snarl. This was an astonishing rock ballad, the acoustic intro and cello accompaniment giving the song an other-worldly sound. I even insisted on having the track played at our wedding in 2017. This wasn’t Britpop, it was sheer magic. Meanwhile, on 2^nd October the Manc quintet gave their second album (What’s the Story) Morning Glory to the world. For all Noel Gallagher’s stupid statements about drugs, there was no doubting his genius for writing, and the album ensured that, while Blur won the 1995 battle, Oasis undoubtedly won the war. It was also a conflict which was yet to run its course. It may seem too obvious but it remains one of my favourite CDs, retaining its beauty, rhythm and relevance two decades later. Oasis were a bunch of weed-smoking dickheads but how the music scene today could benefit from a band of their calibre.

So where did I stand on the stand-off? As ever, I didn’t quite fit in with the media view on the world; I just loved both bands. Each were giants of Britpop and Nineties music generally and sit happily side-by-side in my CD collection.

I was becoming a regular viewer of Jools Holland’s Friday night show on BBC2 and, with the use of video I could record it to see at a more convenient time and fast-forward through the boring World Music segments and cringey interviews. As with Blur, I’m pretty sure I also watched the performances of McAlmont and (Bernard) Butler, including their rendition of the gorgeous ‘You Do’. The same was true for Everything But the Girl delivering their dance re-mix of ‘Missing’. My then work colleague Lesley is somewhere in the audience with her latest boyfriend, behind Ben Watt and Tracey Thorn in this clip but the recording quality is a bit too ropey for me to pick them out! Whatever, it was a great record and a November contemporary of ‘Wonderwall’. 

Another superstar who wore his Sixties influences prominently on his sleeve was Paul Weller. He won hearts and minds in ’95 with his finest solo album Stanley Road. He was always a popular choice for Later… and here he is doing his thing at the piano on probably his best ballad ‘You Do Something To Me’. As in his Jam days, his singles usually blazed into the top ten before descending rapidly off the radio stations’ radar. It happened to this one, and also the rockier ‘The Changingman’ but I really liked them both.

I’d say that Weller fans were even more hostile than Albarn fans to Noel Gallagher. However, Oasis were already being flattered by the sincere form of imitation of tribute bands like No Way Sis and Wibling Rivalry. However, no cover versions were quicker out of the blocks, nor more successful, than the Mike Flowers Pops’ version of ‘Wonderwall’. It was outrageous, so bad it was good! Almost. The cheesy be-wigged singer, Mike Sammes-esque backing chorus and the bossanova beat should have consigned the record to oblivion. But it matched Oasis in going to number two at Christmas, much to Noel’s amusement. Who says Mr Gallagher doesn’t have a sense of humour? 

However, Mike Flowers appeared at some major venues, presumably as a novelty act. I admit I never heard their take on The Doors’ ‘Light My Fire’!  It was perhaps unsurprising that this type of faux easy listening didn’t catch on. On the other hand the more modern dance music was not finished. However, examples which got me jigging were becoming fewer and further between. 

Belgians Alex Party did well with ‘Don’t Give Me Your Life’ as did Strike’s ‘U Sure Do’. However, I took a greater shine to the two big hits by N-Trance. I’d assumed they were yet another European outfit but apparently they were true Brits. ‘Set You Free’ was the archetypal club anthem but its follow-up, an update of ‘Stayin’ Alive’, was even more successful. Kinda tongue-in-cheek, it boasted rapping by Ricardo da Force, whose unorthodox corruption of the verse shouldn’t have worked. However, according to my diary, this turned out to be my favourite dance track of 1995.

I’ve written much about 1995 being the year of Britpop. That’s probably the product of my selective memory. Even a cursory flick over the year’s charts reveals that where singles are concerned, hip-hop, reggae fusion and R’n’B definitely had the upper-hand. Wacko Jacko had two number ones, Shaggy’s impenetrable ‘Boombastic’ was all over the airwaves, and Coolio’s collaboration with LV, ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’, was ‘95’s second biggest seller.

That was a decent single but until researching this section I had buried all trace of The Outhere Brothers in the deepest recesses of my memory banks. Damn! Out they came again. ‘Boom Boom Boom!’ ‘Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle….’ Aarrghhh! They also topped the charts twice. But worse was to come.

Like millions of others, Mum loved watching ITV’s drama series Soldier Soldier. After an episode in which the two main characters sang ‘Unchained Melody’ at a wedding, huge public interest spurred Simon Cowell into pursuing the actors Robson Green and Jerome Flynn into recording the song. They eventually relented and ended up making a fortune. The first single sold 1.8 million. The next, a similarly sickly saccharine cover of ‘I Believe’, also broke the million barrier. It gets worse. Their cringeworthy covers album outsold ‘Morning Glory’ in 1995 and, with the hastily recorded follow-up, sold a combined seven million! Being far superior actors than vocalists they didn’t even sing all the harmonies on the records. Robson and Jerome were all over that year like a nasty rash but don’t expect a YouTube link in this blog.

Phew! That’s enough of them! Back to some of the music I did enjoy hearing. This was the time I first became aware of Green Day. When Billy-Jo Armstrong launched into ‘Basket Case’, I was immediately transported back to the late Seventies. The frenetic guitar intro was pure Punk rock but the Californians nevertheless somehow forged their own path to massive global success for another two decades and counting.

Punk was one of the few genres Madonna never experimented with. Mercifully Madonna had closed her outrageous sexually-explicit chapter but in 1995 seemed to be drifting inevitably towards middle-age sentimentality. Her album Bedtime Stories yielded decent singles like ‘Secret’ and ‘Take a Bow’ without taking the charts by storm. Then an elegant acoustic production of the ballad ‘You’ll See’ made the top five in November and was in my mind her best of the year. M People also released ‘Search for the Hero’, an eighth successive top-tenner for them. It was in and out remarkably quickly but the lyrical message has guaranteed airplay on radio, adverts and sporting video sequences ever since.

I’ve already written about the Britpop conflicts dominating the UK music scene. However, now for a reality check. In 1995, the truly dreadful, pointless (is there any other kind?) civil war in Yugoslavia was in its fourth year. It gained prominence because for once the pictures of shelling, snipers, civilian massacres and political mayhem were not in some distant corner of the world but just a few hours away in Europe. The nation had splintered and various state and breakaway militias were fighting over the spoils, avenging past nationalist ‘wrongs’ with fascistic fervour. One of the worst excesses was the siege of Sarajevo.

For all the news coverage, it can often be a piece of music which brings home the true horror of war and spurs people into bringing the warring factions to a ceasefire. The U2/Brian Eno project Original Soundtracks 1, under the name Passengers, yielded one memorable single ‘Miss Sarajevo’, its official video consisting entirely of film of life in the besieged capital of Bosnia. Weirdly, it’s not Bono’s verses which stirred my senses but the operatic segment sung by Luciano Pavarotti. Sadly the siege continued for several months but this track for me serves as a stunning reminder of that appalling war on our doorstep.

The year even yielded two ‘new’ Beatles hits. However, despite the plentiful publicity, neither achieved the success I originally expected. Probably because they weren’t much cop. ‘Baby It’s You’ was taken from the recent Beatles Live at the BBC album while ‘Free as a Bird’ was cobbled together from an old Lennon demo, with new contributions from surviving members. However, with George Harrison’s long-time collaborator Jeff Lynne co-producing, it just sounded like a feeble ELO-Tom Petty track. Another, similarly unremarkable Beatles single ‘Real Love’ emerged the following year to accompany a new ITV documentary series and Anthology album. 

Other ballads also left their mark on me. Wet Wet Wet’s ‘Julia Says’ was no ‘Love is all Around’ but definitely above average, as was Seal’s ‘Kiss from a Rose’. Boyzone narrowly missed out on a first chart-topper with another three singles, although ‘Father and Son’ sold more than 800,000 copies in the Christmas period. However, when it came to boy bands, Take That continued to reign supreme. It wasn’t plain sailing. Robbie Williams left, allegedly because he considered himself too ‘hard’ for the pure pop world, his personality too big for a boy band and talent to great to play second fiddle to Mr Barlow. His departure didn’t hurt their sales, coming between two of their biggest hits. In July, their gospel/classical-influenced ‘Never Forget’ topped the chart for three weeks, but my contemporary diary note suggests I was no fan. Two decades on, and I think the dramatic intro and chorus are brilliant.

Nevertheless, their preceding single took brilliance to a new level. An instant classic, ‘Back for Good’ shifted 350,000 in the first week and went on to top a million. The quintet were back looking daft under water for the video, but I’ll forgive them because this is Gary Barlow’s finest moment as a songwriter. Robbie was probably in denial but, for all his indie rock credentials, even Noel Gallagher said the song “said something” and “touched” him. Undoubtedly it is one of the finest ‘lost love’ songs I’ve ever heard. But for how long could the Barlow production line continue….?

1992 – Walking 'round the room singing Stormy Weather

This was one of those marking-time kind of years. The first of many ‘restructurings’ at the BBC did at least benefit me but what of personal matters? Now, in my thirties, I was wondering where life was taking me. Still no girlfriend, but surely I was at an age where settling down should be, at the very least, on the horizon. Yet I was still living with the parents. It wasn’t just the Queen having a kind of ‘annus horribilis’. Meanwhile I was desperately, clinging on to the last vestiges of youth with Billericay Rotaract, grasping at those opportunities to dance, opportunities I’d always spurned as a teenager, refusing to countenance even the micro-thought of attending a school disco at the Mayflower.

I did revert to holidaying solo. In July I took a coach trip to what was then still Czechoslovakia, then in September embarked on the first of several rail-based B&B weeks around Britain, beginning with Edinburgh, my first traversing of the Anglo-Scottish border.

It was hardly a vintage twelve months for music so unsurprisingly. I don’t recall music playing much of a role in either vacation. Actually, there’s one exception. When walking around Prague, soaking up the sunshine and sights, I was diverted by the incongruous sound of rock music filling the Old Town Square. Surely it should be a Baroque string quartet? A Smetana symphony? Approaching the centre of the square I realised it was a bunch of youngsters from, of all places, Shrewsbury School! The song they played, which I remember to this day, was ‘Everything About You’, which Ugly Kid Joe had recently taken to the top three. I’d liked the song, and the boys were pretty good, too.

It’s a simple slice of Californian rock but for a cool vibe there wasn’t anything cooler than Arrested Development’s ‘People Everyday’. For some reason I’ve never fathomed, the title is flipped around from the phrase actually sung; that is, “everyday people”. Whatever. It shuffled effortlessly to number two in November. There was more to come with the snappier ‘Mr Wendal’ some months later but I don’t remember anything else from them at all.

There was plenty of long male hair floating around. Axl Rose mixed strutting around the stage and caressing the keyboards with a couple of very popular rock ballads. ‘November Rain’ definitely showed Guns ‘n’ Roses’ sensitive side, then they gave a Bob Dylan classic a heavy makeover. By ’92, the band were one of the biggest on the planet and pretty much top of the bill at the Freddie Mercury Tribute concert at Wembley where this memorable performance of ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door’ was recorded

Curtis Stigers was touted as the new Michael Bolton; flowing brown locks rather than hideous mullet. A better soul voice, in my opinion, but I still wasn’t fussed on the songs ‘I Wonder Why’ and ‘You’re All That Matters to Me’. Then there was Charles, or was it Eddie? Whichever? As a pair, Charles and Eddie had one of the year’s biggest hits with their debut single, ‘Would I Lie to You?’. It had a pleasant Sixties soul sound, with a Smokey Robinson-like lead vocal by Eddie (or was it Charles?), an unfussy production and the benefit of being a much better song than anything by Stigers or Bolton. The world’s worst hairstyle in 1992 must have been that of Billy Ray Cyrus. Fittingly, perhaps, as his ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ just made me ache to break his neck.

Bono’s hair was less lank and mullet than in the Joshua Tree era but amongst the several singles from the Achtung Baby production line came what must be the finest ballad from U2, and maybe anyone, in the Nineties. ‘One’ was the track which determined that I bought the album. On first hearing, I thought it was an instant classic, destined to be the biggest seller for years. And yet it peaked at a disappointing seven in March. It puzzled me then, and it puzzles me still. The album version is much longer than that featured in the Anton Corbijn video and frankly, could easily drift on for another three minutes without boring me – and, believe me, I have a low boredom threshold.

At the same time, the chart was dominated by another slowie, by Shakespear’s Sister. ‘Stay’ was number one for eight long weeks, a melodramatic two-hander performed by ex-Bananarama Siobhan Fahey and Marcella Detroit. The latter’s pure soprano sang the main melody and chorus while a scarily Goth-ified Fahey did the low register bits, and the formula certainly worked. For all Stay’s longevity, one of its follow-ups, ‘Hello (Turn On Your Radio On)’ also worked its spell on me. For both songs, I was also encouraged by the pair’s readiness to sing live on shows such as TOTP, even though Stay’s Goth video was played to death. Fahey’s witch-like image was apparently not restricted to her make-up and clothes. The following year she sacked Detroit without actually telling her.

One of my favourites from 1992 was another creepy song, this time ‘Hazard’ from American Richard Marx. The creepiness stems not from the singer’s visage but the mysterious lyrics. It’s a gorgeous lilting melody but the subject-matter begs you to listen to the words. Did the boy kill Mary? If innocent, why was he hounded out of town? The video added to the suspense, but the lyrics do rather suggest Marx’s protagonist was the victim of mistaken identity:-

                                    “I swear I left her by the river.

                                    I swear I left her safe and sound”

We are left to make up our own minds. Whatever the verdict, it’s refreshing to hear a hit record which makes you think and not just listen ambiently or dance.

Another surprise hit with intriguing lyrics was Marc Almond’s cover of an old Sixties song, ‘The Days of Pearly Spencer’. The sudden crashing transition from string-driven rhythm to melancholy minor chord finale seems unnecessarily blunt but I’ve always been a fan of Almond’s voice. Stripped of the Soft Cell New Romantic baggage, he has always been a brilliant pop soul singer, capable of sounding modern yet breathing new theatrical life into older material like Jacques Brel’s ‘Jacky’, ‘Something’s Gotten Hold of My Heart’ and, for that matter, ‘The Days of Pearly Spencer’ itself.

Another unexpected chart-topper which I enjoyed was Tamsin Archer’s ‘Sleeping Satellite’. Promoted from backing vocalist status, the Yorkshire-born singer really shone with this paeon to astronauts and the moon. Her 1993 Brit award recognised her as breakthrough act but unfortunately it didn’t lead to greater things.

By way of contrast, a decade after their demise, Abba were back! Sort of. In June, Erasure went straight in at the top with their 4-track EP ‘Abba-esque’. Not only did it bring them their only number one single, but it also kept Mariah Carey and Nick Berry off the top. Yesss! Double whammy! The Essex duo’s hilarious homage to the Swedes’ ‘Take a Chance on Me’ helped keep them at the summit for five weeks. Not their best record, but undoubtedly entertaining. And who knew that Vince Clarke would make such a convincing Agnetha?! And what did Sweden think of these cover versions? Well, their shoppers kept the EP at number one for six weeks, so who says they don’t have a sense of humour? 

Not to be outdone, the Australian Abba tribute group, Bjorn Again had their cheeky revenge by releasing their own EP, entitled ‘Erasure-ish’. Sadly, it only reached 25 over here, but it gave the likes of ‘Stop’ and ‘Give a Little Respect’ a Seventies mini-skirt and platforms makeover. I saw Bjorn Again in concert at Shepherds Bush Empire some years later and have to say they were wonderful. I never got the chance to see the originals on stage. However, when the audience are in on the joke, the tongue-in-cheek but genuinely fond impressions of the legendary Swedes were hugely enjoyable, and they are more than useful singers and musicians, too.

Whether all this fun and games whetted the appetite for the real thing, I’m not sure, but Abba released their definitive greatest hits compilation Gold in September, it sold well but not spectacularly. Nevertheless, It now ranks as the second biggest selling album in UK history. Abba will never go out of style. 

Jimmy Nail’s stock was also riding high. Keen to avoid typecasting as the rugged Geordie, thick but with a heart of gold, he had transformed himself into the rugged Geordie, intelligent with a heart of gold, in the title role of BBC1’s detective series Spender. He became a bit of a sex symbol, so inevitably he chose this point to revive his dormant singing career. Perfect timing! ‘Ain’t No Doubt’ followed ‘Abbaesque’ to number one. I confess it wasn’t for me, unlike Spender, which at the time set a high standard for all future moody, flawed but brilliant detective TV series to aspire to.

’92 was also the year when Crowded House stamped their mark on me. I’d known ‘Don’t Dream it’s Over’, of course, but when ‘Weather With You’ broke into the top ten, I recognised their true talent. It wasn’t just the lilting melody and the uplifting chorus; I also loved the intriguing lyrics like

                        “There’s a small boat made of china

                        It’s going nowhere on the mantelpiece”

I didn’t buy the Woodface CD (shame!) but did hire it from the library, to discover more great tracks like ‘Fall at Your Feet’ and ‘Four Seasons in One Day’. Neil and Tim Finn certainly had a way with words, harmonies and memorable ballads, wrapped up in unfussy production. Mere OBEs don’t do them justice.

In contrast, there were some truly awful records being played constantly that year. I’ve mentioned the ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ abomination, but I also detested the re-release of the Freddie Mercury/Monserrat Caballe operatic epic ‘Barcelona’. The BBC’s coverage of the Olympics from that city meant it was on air ad infinitum. I described Madonna’s ‘This Used to be my Playground’ as a “dreadfully boring ballad” and Eric Clapton’s ‘Tears in Heaven’ and Michael Jackson’s vomit-inducing Christmas hit ‘Heal the World’ were so coated in sugar, there was nothing worth listening to in the centre.

Yet none of these compared to the year’s biggest-seller. It wasn’t that Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’ was a dreadful song. It wasn’t. And, of course, Whitney’s interpretation of Dolly Parton’s composition was stunning. It’s just that the whole romance of the thing, the ‘Bodyguard’ brand marketing, turned my stomach. Even now I find it a tough listen. When I went to see the West End musical version of The Bodyguard’, starring the brilliant Beverly Knight, I was probably the only one on the audience not to be crying buckets when Beverly belted out the big number.

Moving hastily back to the good stuff, as The B-52s would have it in 1992. My 1991 obituary for the passing of decent dance music turned out to be a tad premature. For starters, Dr Alban’s ‘It’s My Life’ was a huge Euro disco hit, and for obvious reasons. I’d never heard of him before but the Nigerian-born Swedish DJ/producer had already become successful on the continent. After ‘It’s My Life’, that success continued, but not over here. I thought Snap! would be pretty much a one-hit wonder but that had been just an appetiser for ‘Rhythm is a Dancer’.

The words weren’t important, of course. Nor, in truth, were the vocals – perfectly adequate though they were – of Thea Austin and rapper Turbo B. It was all about the synthesizer riff. As an intro, it was reminiscent of a bugle call to arms, only this time hailing the hordes on to the dance floor. It worked. Unlike many big Euro dance tracks, ‘Rhythm is a Dancer’ had the structure of any good pop record: a proper start, middle and finish, although this didn’t necessarily work for DJs trying to incorporate the ‘boof, boof’ finale while segue-ing into the next record. Anyway, only Whitney’s hit outsold it that year in the UK.

It wasn’t just about Swedish and German electronica, though. Britain was producing some great Euro-sounding dance music, too. Once pigeonholed as rave acts, some were really crossing over into the pop world without really compromising their dance reputations.

For years, I imagined Felix to be some anonymous figure toiling from a soundproofed chalet studio deep in the Westphalian forest but apparently he hailed from Chelmsford! His enduring anthem ‘Don’t You Want Me’ has been remixed at frequent intervals but why mess with the original in the first place?

The Utah Saints created some top tunes with the help of creative sampling of well-known voices. The best example was ‘Something Good’, which flew to four in the summer. So smart was the sample of the ”I knew that something good was going to happen” line that I didn’t realise it came from Kate Bush’s ‘Cloudbusting’, hence the ghostly images of Kate’s 1987 video amidst the Saints’ own promo. The band was unusual in that they could actually perform live rather than just twiddle a few knobs on a synth and wave their arms around.

And then there were The Shamen. For starters, they had the – for me - attractive propensity to sing live on TOTP. This was pretty much unheard of for a techno-dance act, either before or since, and first surfaced on the previous autumn’s top fiver, ‘Move Any Mountain’. They originated in Scotland, but the rapper Mr C brought a touch of London street ‘bantah’ and a DJ-land credibility to their sound. Everything came together in September, when ‘Ebenezer Goode’ leapt to the top of the singles chart.

It wasn’t merely a cracking track to dance to. It had a unique quality to it, perhaps best illustrated by Mr C’s opening lines:-

                        “Naughty, naughty, very naughty

                        Ha ha ha ha ha”

It was indeed very naughty. The “Es are good, Es are good” chorus obviously extolled the virtues of the drug du jour, Ecstasy, which did result in the single being banned temporarily by the Beeb. However, as I imagined The Beatles did a quarter of a century earlier over ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’, The Shamen and their record company must have had their fingers tightly crossed behind their backs when insisting that the song was really about a shady club underworld character! See what I mean?

“He takes you to the top, shakes you all around
Then back down, you know as he gets mellow”

Anyway, there was sufficient lyrical ambiguity to let them off the hook, and ‘Ebenezer Goode’ proceeded to sell almost 300,000 copies before being prematurely deleted after about six weeks! It stayed in the clubs much longer.

Dance still wasn’t dead by the following year but, thanks to a male vocal quintet from the North West, the UK pop music axis was swiftly shifting.

1991 – All bound for Mu-Mu land

Strife was still bubbling around the world in 1991. The break-up of Communist Eastern Europe hadn’t settled revolutionary fervour. In June, Slovenia and Croatia broke away from Yugoslavia, laying the foundations for the appalling war there in the following few years. President Gorbachev survived a coup in the Soviet Union but, understandably fearing for his life and opting for a quieter (and more lucrative) retirement, finally jacked it in at Christmas. But the worst violence was the preserve of a UK-US alliance.

Operation Desert Storm began on 16^th 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” 

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”

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.

1987 – We know the game and we’re gonna play it

Classy songwriters saved the day in a year otherwise exemplified by somewhat boring music and, apart from increasing my involvement in Billericay Rotaract, nothing notably exciting happening in my own life. Vince Clarke was composing ‘em, Andy Bell was singing ‘em, and Erasure peppered the Top 20. However it was fellow synth-pop masters The Pet Shop Boys who dominated 1987.

They topped the chart twice, with ‘It’s a Sin’ and the Christmas number one, ‘Always on My Mind’. I recall listening to a Radio 1 broadcast when Jonathan King overtly accused PSB of plagiarising ‘Wild World’, repeating “Pet Shop Boys, no talent rip-offs” over and over. I’m delighted to report that they successfully sued the notoriously opinionated producer-broadcaster. His words didn’t hurt them either where it mattered, in the music business. Other acts seemed perfectly happy to benefit from the PSB magic. My second-favourite PSB song, ‘What Have I Done to Deserve This?’ was prevented from making it three at the summit by the year’s biggest-seller, yet resurrected the career of Dusty Springfield. They also worked with Liza Minnelli, although it wasn’t her version of ‘Rent’ which went to number eight in ’87. Tennant and Lowe were already way beyond mere electro-popsters; arch and a tad pretentious at times, but they were definitely peerless composers.

Ditto, The Bee Gees. Barry Gibb had given Diana Ross the leg-up the previous year with ‘Chain Reaction’, wasted on the Supreme diva. Now came a similar winning song ‘You Win Again’ which became their final number one in October. The odd, industrial, almost military, beat backed a typical clever melody, Barry lead vocal and fraternal harmonies and reminded me just how good they were, and had been for twenty years.

Yet some of the biggest hits in 1987 had their beginnings before even the Gibbs started their UK chart career. Jackie Wilson had enjoyed Christmas success with ‘Reet Petite’ and now came Ben E King’s ‘Stand By Me’ (catapulted to the top by a Levi’s commercial) and Los Lobos’ lively version of ‘La Bamba’. Percy Sledge’s re-released ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ soared to number two, as did ‘Under the Boardwalk’ by American man of the moment, Bruce Willis. Not yet a movie star, his ‘Moonlighting’ TV role provided a springboard for a surprisingly fruitful musical adventure. However, once he donned that blood-stained vest in Die Hard, we were spared any more of his retro vocal efforts. He wasn’t quite as good as he thought he was.

I preferred singles by two forty-somethings. Carly Simon purred her way through the beautiful ‘Coming Around Again’ in January, then Labi Siffre released his trademark anti-apartheid anthem, ‘(Something Inside) So Strong’. I must admit I wasn’t struck by the power of the heartfelt lyric until I came to sing it a capella with the Quantock Musical Theatre Company many years later:-

“The higher you build your barriers, the taller I become
The farther you take my rights away, the faster I will run”.

The guy could sing, too. Believe me, it was a helluva strain to try and replicate his tingling high tenor in the verses. The chorus would come as a welcome relief.

Not sure what Labi’s dancing was like, but I doubt he could have held a candle to Michael Jackson. His long-awaited successor to Thriller finally saw the light of day in August, and ‘Bad’ was actually quite good. I was surprised that the title track didn’t reach number one over here, even with Scorsese’s West Side Story homage video. Jacko’s skin tone was turning notably paler, but the ‘Bad’ single was darker and rougher than much of what had come before.

The album was the only one to out-sell the latest product from U2 but The Joshua Tree was one of my most influential albums, and one of the first I bought myself that wasn’t a compilation. The driving force was the exposure I had to the cassette in the Ford Fiesta of fellow Rotaractor Caroline. I think she purchased it as soon as it hit the shelves, and played it as we headed in a club convoy one weekend morning to Upminster station. ‘With Or Without You’ was the stand-out single, featuring the haunting ‘infinite guitar’ and gently pulsating bassline, yet there was barely a duff track on it. It possessed something that only the best albums do: being greater than the sum of its parts. And yet I would have to wait a few more years for what I’d describe as my favourite U2 record.

I have a love-hate relationship with that peculiar phenomenon, the Rock Ballad. Most are crap but, for some reason, Heart’s ‘Alone’ really grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a shaking that hasn’t really left me. The piano intro, power-packed chorus and passionate vocals by Ann Wilson (the dark-haired sister) and the playful winding down at the end combined to tick the right boxes. It’s just the right side of the line which separates genius from obnoxiously OTT.

Two of the biggest singles of the year I would cheerfully consign to the waste bin of history: Starship’s ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ and T’Pau’s ‘China In Your Hand’. The latter’s only redeeming feature was Carol Decker’s striking red hair which has served her rather well  ever since, even without any comparable musical triumphs.

Meanwhile Wham had vanished but George Michael was everywhere. He partnered Aretha Franklin to glory on ‘I Knew You Were Waiting’, courted controversy with the awful ‘I Want Your Sex’ and provided uncredited guest vocals on his cousin’s Boogie Box High cover of ‘Jive Talkin’’. Then came his first solo project ‘Faith’. The image of George in denim, swinging that acoustic guitar, sporting what was soon dubbed as ‘designer stubble’ transformed him from one half of a pop duo into credible soul boy in one well-crafted step. It wasn’t an image that appealed to me and neither, I’m afraid, did his music.

Social comment was alive and well in Prince’s simple but striking ‘Sign o’ the Times’ and Suzanne Vega’s ‘Luka’ but, to be honest, sometimes it’s better to just have a giggle. The Firm’s utterly silly ‘Star Trekkin’’ was just the ticket. Elsewhere, I wasn’t taken in by The Beastie Boys’ efforts to portray themselves as the new Sex Pistols and cringed at footballers Glenn and Chris (aka Hoddle and Waddle) performing ‘Diamond Lights’. On the other hand, I was mildly diverted by George Harrison’s return to the commercial big time with ‘Got My Mind Set On You’, The Proclaimers’ engaging Scottish-twin-brothers-in-big-glasses shtick on ‘Letter From America’ and the unconventional ‘Hey Matthew’ by Karel Fialka. Well, variety is the spice of musical life! 

Speaking of which, 1987 was the year when House (abbreviated from Chicago’s Warehouse club, where the genre originated) crossed over into the mainstream. It’s never been top of my list for listening but the jerky piano rhythms of Steve ‘Silk’ Hurley’s ‘Jack Your Body’ and deeper, smoother bass sound of M/A/R/R/S’ ‘Pump Up The Volume’ had something about them. They both went to number one, so I wasn’t the only person to think that way. I now know it was short for ‘ejaculation’ but although suddenly everything was Jack this, Jack that, Jack the other, when it came to song titles I still don’t really know why. 

Of course, my more conventional tastes gravitated towards the pop end of the spectrum. Like me, Johnny Hates Jazz (ouch!) but the British band seemed to pack promise when in the Spring they released the smooth silky ‘Shattered Dreams’. I associate the record with another Rotaract day out, this time a hot sunny afternoon in Cambridge. Pausing by the sprawling acres of Jesus Green, I vividly recall hearing the strains of the song floating from the radio amidst a seated group of young tourists. It sounded so serene, so perfect for the occasion. As for JHJ, I don’t remember hearing other hits, although apparently they did quite well overseas for a year or two. 

Wet Wet Wet also broke through that year. ‘Wishing I Was Lucky’ went to number six, stimulating a stream of decent singles and a huge album. Singer Marti Pellow’s perpetual smile was refreshing at first. Had any man ever looked so insanely happy on the stage?! By the time they brought out the ballad ‘Angel Eyes’, Pellow’s little vocal tics were wearing thin but WWW’s records were invariably worth a listen.

Antipodean group Crowded House provided a very different type of House music. It’s astounding to discover that their classic ballad ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ failed to reach the top 20 over here but it had already registered with me. They went on to become one of my favourite groups, although it needed more great songs to do so. I also liked New Order, whose brilliant, Stephen Hague-produced electro-dance anthem ‘True Faith’ raced to four, aided by a barnstorming video.

On the Mancunian theme, I wasn’t particularly enamoured of the latterday Smiths songs. However, after buying their latest singles/B-sides compilation The World Won’t Listen, I was introduced to ‘There is a Light that Never Goes Out’ and music will never seem the same again. It’s been derided as a song about suicide. I’m not so sure; I just think it’s the greatest ever song about unrequited love. Whilst I could never place myself in the same depths of despondency as Morrissey, I was a shy, sensitive soul, too, and some of the lyrics resonated with me:- 

“And in the darkened underpass I thought Oh God, my chance has come at last
(But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask)”

Having read Morrissey’s weird and wonderful autobiography, the significance of the video becomes more obvious. It makes no direct link with the lyric but focuses on the imminent destruction of the writer’s Manchester childhood community. Maybe that was the alternative light which was about to be extinguished in a physical sense, but not in Morrissey’s mind. Whatever. What makes such a sad song so memorable was the use of such a gorgeous melody, strings and light, lilting production. Eighties indie gold!

Julian Cope didn’t quite have the feverish fanbase of The Smiths but, as I was to discover on the 1992 release of his Floored Genius collection, he was just an accomplished a singer-songwriter-performer as Morrissey and Marr. After the Teardrop Explodes era, the only song I recall hearing was ‘Eve’s Volcano’, and it didn’t even rattle the cage of the Top 40. For some reason, I associate it with a walk up Wood Lane to work at the BBC. Presumably I’d heard it on the radio that morning and it had stuck in my brain. Good job, too, because it was one of the reasons why I later bought the cassette of Floored Genius. Irony of ironies, the one song excluded from the track list was… ‘Eve’s Volcano’! Thank God for YouTube and Cope’s New York gig.

Cope had allegedly cleaned up his drug-addled act by ’87 but nobody looked more clean-cut than Colin Vearncombe, alias Black. His rather dreary dirge ‘Sweetest Smile’ may have been a Top Tenner but didn’t stick in my memory. However, when he re-released ‘Wonderful Life’, I was gob-smacked. I’ve always been a sucker for a well-crafted minor key ballad and a steel band and here was a record which boasted both delicious ingredients. Black had such a delicate croon, ideal for such a melancholic yet simultaneously curiously uplifting song, and he deservedly enjoyed international success with it. Sadly, his own wonderful life was cut cruelly short in 2016 by a car crash. It makes watching the Mersey coast-set video and lyrics like 

            “The sunshine fills my hair 

And dreams hang in the air”

even more bittersweet, and hard to hold back tears.

There was no need to cry for the prolific production team of Stock, Aitken and Waterman. SAW had their own names on the boring jazz-hip-hop ‘Roadblock’ in the summer of 1987 but it was their work with other artists which was making them much-needed money and a burgeoning reputation for finding an unfailing formula. Dead Or Alive had already provided a first number one single and Bananarama were enjoying a second spell in the limelight with entertaining records like ‘Love In the First Degree’.  

But now came the compelling sister act Mel and Kim. Their sassy style and sexy smiles dovetailed with ‘Respectable’, following their debut hit ‘Showing Out’, and big things were on the cards for the Appleby girls. Unfortunately another tragedy put paid to that. Although concealed at the time, Mel was diagnosed with cancer of the spine and within three years she had died of complications aged just 23.  

Rick Astley was alive, well and only 21 in August 1987 when his first single ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ blazed up the charts. The shy singer from Lancashire had allegedly started as a S/A/W teaboy, a rumour happily endorsed by Pete Waterman himself. Whatever the truth, young Rick was catapulted to fame by the song’s success. As for the production trio, the magic formula had now been perfected. S/A/W were on the road to world domination!