Now That’s What I Call Dubious

Thank you all for the comments left for me after last week’s first instalment of this series, where I go through all of the tracks on each volume (that I own) of the long-running compilation album series Now That’s What I Call Music.

But you’ll not put me off, oh no. And if you thought, like long-time reader George did, that last week’s serving was “…the worst set of songs I’ve ever read on a blog. Teeth-grindingly bad…” (It’s nice to have such a devoted fanbase), well buckle up because Side 1 of the second disc of Now That’s What I Call Music, where we’re heading today, is, in my opinion, even worse.

Let’s see who wants to admit to having bought any of these back in their more youthful days, shall we?

Disc 2, Side 1.

1. New Edition – Candy Girl

What did New Edition ever give us? Well, they gave us this utterly irritating UK #1, sung by annoying little pipsqueaks and featuring a horrid squelchy bassline. What else? Well, they also gave us three further UK Top 20 singles; the first, Mr Telephone Man, came two years later, in 1985, and then two more, Hit Me Off [I’m sorry, do what to you, exactly…?] and Something About You but they didn’t scrape the lower regions of the UK Top 20 until 1996 and 1997 respectively, some 13 years after Candy Girl hit the top of the charts. Presumably by then they had all matured into hunky looking young men who danced with their shirts off, or, more likely, in a precursor to the Sugababes’ method of keeping things fresh, an entirely different line-up.

Safe to say, then, that they did not exactly capitalise on their early succeess, and praise be for such small mercies.

But what about in between, in what has become known in Dubious Towers as ‘The No Second Edition Years’? Well, after the follow-up single Popcorn Love [which conjures up horrid images of young men taking their dates to the cinema, buying a massive carton of popcorn, making a hole in the bottom, resting it on their lap and inviting their beau to ‘grab a handful’] limped it’s way to #43, it was followed swiftly – probably more swiftly than their record company had anticipated – by Is This The End to which we as a nation chorused “We fucking hope so!” as we booed it to it’s triumphant peak of #83.

What else did New Edition give us? Well, they also gave us Bobby Brown, and therefore, by extension, dead in a bath tub Whitney .

2. Kajagoogoo – Big Apple

Here’s the compilers of Now… breaking that well-known rule one should always bear in mind when putting together a mixtape/album/playlist/whatever: Thou shalt not include two tracks by the same artist. Fair play, by the time this came out the Kajas (The GooGoos?) had kicked that prick Limahl out, and lead vocal duties were now taken over by bass player Nick Beggs.

You know how many people’s go-to-reference for awful 80s haircuts is A Flock of Seagulls? Well that overlooks the godawful barnet Beggs had:

Several years later, a mate of mine at Uni inexplicably tried to revive this haircut. He dyed his hair peroxide blonde and then got white hair extenstions put it in. He had them all cut off less than 24 hours later when he got fed up with people baa-ing at him.

Anyway, Big Apple is about life in New York, which is also named The Big Apple. I don’t know how they came up with such a complicated concept to sing about. Imagine: living in a city! In America!!

3. Tina Turner – Let’s Stay Together

Ably assisted by Glenn Gregory and Martyn Ware of Heaven 17 fame on backing vocals and production duties, this. a cover of the Al Green classic, was the first of Tina’s great comeback singles. Before this, which reached #6 in 1983, she’d not had a hit in the UK since 1973’s Nutbush City Limits, and that was with her ex-husband and all-round-not-a-nice-guy Ike.

To open the doors on the amnesty of admission: Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession. Whilst I didn’t buy this as a single, I did buy Private Dancer, the album it appears on.

Join me in ‘fessing up via the Comments. It’ll be a laugh, I promise.

4. Human League – Fascination

Or rather (Keep Feeling) Fascination as the band called it, but the Now… compilers refused to. They probably had a cap on brackets policy in place. And on the number of times they could use the word The on one set of packaging.

Anyway, by April 1983, The Human League were on a roll. This was their 5th Top Ten UK hit in a row, if you ignore The Holiday ’80 EP which re-entered the charts in February 1982, having been originally released in – you guessed it – 1980. This, remember, long before the days of downloading, where 10,000 clicks can get you a #1. No, back then you had to go out and find the record you wanted, flick through the racks of your local vinyl emporium, scour through the ads at the back of the NME to see if you could buy one with a postal order or a cheque. So that re-entry – only at #46, but in the charts for 5 weeks, is indicative of just how massive The League had become.

Or, to put it another way (Dad joke incoming!): it meant Phil Oakey could now afford to get the other side of his hair cut.

5. Howard Jones – New Song

For a while in the early-80s, if you wanted a solo male UK pop star, it was either Howard Jones or Nik Kershaw: them’s yer choices. I’ll admit, in time, to buying a couple of Kershaw’s singles, but never anything by Jones. His were just a bit too Casio-toned for my rock-loving ears. And, he had that annoying twat Jed – Roy Jay (look him up) meets Marcel Marceau meets Bez – accompanying him in the videos and TOTP performances for this single:

Oh go on then: Roy Jay. This passed as entertainment in the 80s. Slither!:

6. UB40 – Please Don’t Make Me Cry

No, go on, do make him cry. At least he won’t be singing this interminably dull sub-snoozing reggae then.

And if you’re short of practical ideas about how to make him cry, well a very young Danny Dyer has some suggestions intended for Peter Andre but which I’m sure could easily be transferred over:

7. Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack – Tonight I Celebrate My Love

Oh Jesus wept. Ordinarily, this sort of schlocky slop would have featured on a smash-hit movie soundtrack, and that would explain how it got to #2 in the UK Charts. I mean: there’s only one explanation for (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life‘s inexplicable popularity: it’s in Dirty Dancing. People – by which I mean, women, like Dirty Dancing. (I’m sure they exist, but I know of no men who like Dirty Dancing. Not any straight ones, anyway.) But Tonight I Celebrate My Love didn’t feature in any blockbuster movie. And back in 1983, just like now, Steve Wright’s Sunday Love Songs wasn’t a thing. So the only place this would get played would be in the last ten minutes at your local disco, when the DJ slllooowwwweedddd tttthhhhhhhiiiiinnnnnnggggsss dowwwwwwwwwwwwwn for ‘all the lovers out there’.

Wake me up when the erection section’s finished will you?

Disc 2, Side 2.

8. Tracey Ullman – They Don’t Know

That’s more like it! I’ve written about this, and Tracey’s brief pop career before, here, should you fancy having a read.

Suffice it to say: They Don’t Know is a damn-near perfect pop record. And therefore, I didn’t buy it at the time, though I have subsequently availed myself of a vinyl copy of You Broke My Heart in 17 Places, the album it lives on. Kirtsy MacColl’s original version is probably the song that appears most in my iTunes library. It’s 100% skip-proof: I’ve never gotten tired of hearing it and I doubt I ever will.

9. Will Powers – Kissing With Confidence

Blimey, two absolute crackers in a row. Things are looking up.

Let’s see what wiki has to say about it: “Kissing with Confidence” is a song by Will Powers (the stage name/persona of photographer-turned-singer Lynn Goldsmith) from her 1983 album Dancing for Mental Health. It was written by Goldsmith, Jacob Brackman, Nile Rodgers, Todd Rundgren, and Steve Winwood. Goldsmith used a voice recorder to sound like a man. Carly Simon is the uncredited lead singer”. I mean, c’mon: that’s not a bad set of artists to be working with. Although that voice recorder needs chucking out: I have never for a moment thought it was man providing the central advice on this record.

I’ve posted this before and extolled its’ virtues, and it was met with a decidedly lukewarm reaction. I bloody love it. But of course, I didn’t buy it at the time, although I sponge-like absorbed every word of advice it offered. Y’know…just in case….

Anyway, no, I didn’t buy that, but, I did buy this:

10. Genesis – That’s All

Yes. That’s right. I bought this. In fact, I bought the album, not the single. And I bought the album because it had this on it.

Look. I know we all know what Phil Collins is now. But those were different times, back then. We had no idea how he would turn out. The benefit of hindsight is a wonderful thing. I also had no clue that Genesis used to be some adored arty prog-rock band, fronted by Peter Gabriel dressed as a chrysanthemum; no idea what Collins had converted them from and into.

And you know what? Now I do know, and I’ve listed to Gabriel-era Genesis, and I’d rather listen to Collins-era Genesis than that old shite anyday.

I’m sure they’ll crop up again in this series, if they haven’t already appeared on these pages. There are other Collins/Genesis songs that I like. And when the time comes, I will hold my head up and confess: I. Like. This. Song.

Not now, obviously. I don’t want to expose myself uneccesarily.

There I’ve said it: there are other Collins/Genesis songs that I like. I’m not sure why so many find this such an alien concept. Just because I – we – like the occasional record that someone makes, but dislike them and much of their other recorded output, that does not make me – you – a fan of theirs. That makes me – you – honest enough to give credit where I – you – think credit is due.

The album that has this on it that I bought, the wittily-titled Genesis is, as you would expect, rubbish apart from That’s All.

11. The Cure – The Love Cats

I mean, this is just magnificent, isn’t it? I didn’t buy it at the time, of course, but fear not! My days of buying Cure records were just around the corner. Redemption is nigh.

12. Simple Minds – Waterfront

I hated Simple Minds back then. I think it was partly because Jim Kerr reminded me of Michael Myers from the Halloween horror movie franchise:

Spot the difference

Anyway, time and age has mellowed me, and I can now appreciate the shimmering magnificence of some of those early Simple Minds records, this one included.

13. Madness – The Sun and The Rain

Without question, my favourite Madness single. That’s all (to quote Phil).

14. Culture Club – Victims

To round off what’s actually turned out to be a pretty decent fourth side, given some of the shite they could have picked, another band making their second appearance on the same compilation album. Tut, tut, compilers.

But having mentioned how much I hate Karma Chameleon last time out, I woudn’t want you to think I was some homophobic twat who hated Culture Club unconditionally because of Boy George. Quite the opposite, I really like Mr O’Dowd, and some of the band’s other singles – Church of the Poisoned Mind, Time (Clock of the Heart), It’s a Miracle, this and…er…well, that’s about it really. So, the ones Helen Terry was involved in, pretty much.

Anyway, that’s it for this week. Hopefully we’re ending things on a positive note this time.

Next time (which should be next week, all being well), we’ll move on to Now That’s What I Call Music Vol II and see what delights that has in store for us, shall we? No peeking!

More soon.

Now That’s What I Call Dubious

Had I not watched TV last night, then you’d now be reading a long-overdue Rant.

But I did, and of course I watched Have I Got News For You; not the greatest episode ever, but I became more and more dismayed as every topic I had intended to write about this morning got mentioned – even the same video clips I planned to insert – but with better gags than I had come up with. No loosely-linked tunes, granted, but still…

So what did I do instead? Well, now that storage space on my iPod is no longer an issue, I decided to upload all of the Now albums I have *coughs* legally acquired digital copies of to my iTunes.

And as I did so, a thought occured to me: there’s a series here. And then I remembered that, a long time ago, I wrote about Now That’s What I Call Music Vol 1 and promised to return with more from the series soon. Which, of course, I never did, because…aww, you know, I’m rubbish.

I tracked down that old post to see when it was written: 16/09/17. As I thought, it was prompted by me snaffling up a load of the original series on vinyl from a now-defunkt charity shop. You can read what I wrote here if you’re interested.

Of course, all of the links are dead 5 1/2 years later, but fear not! For back then, I just picked out the songs I liked – or more likely, the songs I hated least. Now we’re going to look at them all.

Some historical context: Volume 1 came out in November 1983. I would have been 14, and frankly just ripe for listening to this kind of stuff. But, as mentioned in that old post, I bought precisely zero copies of Now That’s What I Call Music at the time: in my mind back then, pop music was for girls, and I liked rock music, which was or boys. I liked Deep Purple and AC/DC and Led Zeppelin and, of course, Quo. An album full of cheesy pop songs? No thanks, thought the younger, stupider me.

But now? I love this stuff, even if I have no recollection whatsoever of a lot them, as you’ll find out as the series progresses.

Here’s the plan: each week, as each volume contained two discs, I’ll feature one complete disc from at a time, in sequential order. So this week: Volume 1, Disc 1, next time Vol 1, Disc 2…and so on. There will, of course, be some unexplained breaks in the series, because…well, you know what I’m like.

So, shall we see what Volume 1, Disc 1 has in store for us?

Side 1:

1. Phil Collins – You Can’t Hurry Love I have vivid, disturbing memories of this one. Lifted from his second solo album Hello, I Must Be Going, this hit #1 in the UK. A cover of the old Supremes song, it was backed up by a video which featured not one Phil Collins, but three of him, one singing, the other two performing as his backing singers. Fax machines across the UK must have girded their loins in readinesss for the forthcoming deluge of divorce letters. Of course, given the option, I’d plump for listening to The Supremes version, and if you sat through Diana Ross’s Glastonbury Legends slot a couple of years ago, you’ll know what a sacrifice that is.

2. Duran Duran – Is There Something I Should Know?

Their first #1 in the UK. God, I hated them at the time. They were “a girl’s band”, adored not for their musical ability, but because they were fit. I now realise that’s fine, that’s what pop music is. But back then…well I didn’t think Simon Le Bon could sing, and thought it really funny that time he nearly drowned on his yacht. I’ve done a lot of growing up is all I can say.

3. UB40 – Red Red Wine

Speaking of first UK #1s, here’s the cod-white reggae band from Birmingham, who started off making great political records like One in Ten but then quickly declined to doing this kind of thing. If ever you’re at a social engagement and find yourself talking to someone who tells you that Red Red Wine was written by Neil Diamond like it’s some kind of profound truth, then move away quickly because any moment now they’re going to tell you that the guy from ZZ Top without a beard is called Frank Beard and expect your mind to be suitably blown.

4. Limahl – Only For Love

Nope, me neither. I remember him, sure, but this record? Nope. This got to #16 in the UK charts. Who knew?

5. Heaven 17 – Temptation

Now we’re talking! An absolute 80s beauty, even if it’s not the Brothers in Rhythym mix (which will be making an appearance soon on these pages, all being well). A UK #2 back in 1983, a genuine travesty it didn’t reach the peak. And what prevented it from hitting the top? True by Spandau fucking Ballet, that’s what. Another reason to hate it.

6. KC & The Sunshine Band – Give It Up

I bloody love this song. The sound of summer, the sound of happiness, even if the lyrics ain’t that happy. Here’s some Give It Up facts that I’ve nicked from wiki:

• The song is the walk-on music of professional darts player Vincent van der Voort.
• It featured in the last series of Play Away broadcast on January 7, 1984.
• It is used in the opening scene of British anthology series Black Mirror, episode “Loch Henry”
• The song is chanted by Tottenham Hotspur supporters in their appreciation of Rafael van der Vaart (who doesn’t play for them anymore) and Micky van de Ven (who does, but when will they learn that Tenpole Tudor’s Wünderbar is a much better fit?)

7. Malcolm McClaren – Double Dutch

The moment when we all stopped what we were doing and thought: Maybe this bloke is a genius after all…?

8. Bonnie Tyler – Total Eclipse Of The Heart

That rare beast: a Jim Steinman composition that isn’t recorded by Meat Loaf. It’s cheesy and power ballad as hell, but can I resist singing along to it? Nosireebob. And I’m not the only one: my brother shelled out for the album, although he won’t thank me for mentioning it.

And so, on to Side 2:

9. Culture Club – Karma Chameleon

I don’t know what I hate this so much, but I do, and I don’t feel the need to try and explain myself.

10. Men Without Hats – The Safety Dance

Another of those records that just makes me smile. Maybe it’s because Quo covered it once (oh yes they did, and it’s as awful as you’d expect), but I don’t think so. It’s a great, if weird, song, with a weird if not so great video…maybe the one-hit-wonderness of them is what appeals? (They’re only other charting record in the UK was I Got The Message, which reached the giddy heights of #99 in the UK. That’s clearly a misnomer of a tune, as I find when I write this that they’re still touring…how tedious must their gigs be, as you wait for the encore to hear the one song you paid £35 to hear?)

11. Kajagoogoo – Too Shy

Uh oh, here’s that Limahl bloke again, in the band he found success with before they kicked him out. And why did they do that, you might ask. Succesful band, #1 hit single and a couple of less succesful singles under their belt – why dispose of the lead singer? Back to wiki again for some light-shedding: “Limahl accused the others of being envious of him and said “I’ve been betrayed!” and “I was sacked for making them a success.” The other band members countered Limahl’s assertions, insisting that he had become egomaniacal and increasingly difficult to work with. Soon after the departure, [founder member, Nick] Beggs commented, “It was a business decision and not one we took lightly. He wanted the band to go in a different direction to the rest of us. Eventually, we realised we were on a different planet to Limahl.” Beggs also stated that the band harboured no ill will towards Limahl, and blamed the press for sensationalising the matter. Guitarist Steve Askew commented “At first … we did everything possible to make Limahl feel like part of the furniture but, you know, his lifestyle is so different from ours. We’re very normal people whereas Limahl likes the bright lights.”

In other words, he was a bit of a cock. Let’s move on.

12. Mike Oldfield – Moonlight Shadow

Another record I love, and I know I’m not alone. It’s featured twice on these pages before, once when Alyson from What’s It All About? suggested it as part of The Chain, with these words: “…as ever I don’t know if its cool or uncool to like Mike Oldfield around these parts but not averse to hearing a bit of ‘In Dulce Jubilo’ at this time of year.” (It was December 2016, in case you were curious when Alyson pops on the folky Christmas tunes). And back in 2015 I wrote about it (along with a whole load of other records) as I’d bought it when I was a nipper. Here’s what I wrote way back when: “Oldfield was famous for a few things: for his Tubular Bells album which, I’m sure you know, was the first ever release on the Virgin label and which set Richard Branson up for a life-time of twatting around in hot-air balloons, running rubbish railway services and paying Usain Bolt and David Tennant to pretend to be his friends in TV adverts; for his Christmas hit “In Dulce Jubilo”, and for “Portsmouth” – not one that might tickle your memory glands, that, but one which has been burned onto my psyche ever since we did Country Dancing at Junior School and I made a complete arse of myself attempting to do-si-do with Vanessa Simpson, who I had a massive crush on, crush turning out to be quite literally the appropriate phrase, as I trod on her feet countless times until she asked to be allowed to change partner.

Ahem. But I’m over that now.”

13. Men At Work – Down Under

Funny story: Down Under, with its characteristically earthy antipodean humour, was a worldwide smash in late 1982/early 1983. It hit the #1 spot in Australia, New Zealand, Canada, USA, UK, Denmark, Ireland, Italy and Switzerland, and was a Top 10 hit in many other countries, and has sold just shy of 3 million copies to date. It earned the writers a small fortune. Note the tense, there.

But then in 2007, the fates conspired agaisnst them. On the ABC-TV quiz show Spicks and Specks, this question was asked: “What children’s song is contained in the song ‘Down Under‘?” And it all unravelled from there. The answer was “Kookaburra”, a song written in 1932 by Marion Sinclair, who died in 1988. However, the rights to “Kookaburra” were deemed to have been transferred to publisher Larrikin Music, who unsurprisingly decided to take legal action against the song’s writers.

28 years after the release of Down Under, Larrikin Music sued Men at Work for copyright infringement, alleging that part of the flute riff of the song was copied from “Kookaburra”. Justice Peter Jacobson of the Federal Court of Australia – of all the Justices of the Federal Court of Australia, he’s one of my favourites, he’s just so dreamy! – made a preliminary ruling that Larrikin did own copyright on the song, but the issue of whether or not the Down Under writers had plagiarised the riff was set aside to be determined at a later date.

A year later – and this is why he’s my favourite, he kept them on tenterhooks that long – Jacobson ruled that Larrikin’s copyright had been infringed because Down Under reproduced “a substantial part of ‘Kookaburra'”.

Bye bye money.

14. Rock Steady Crew – Hey You (Rock Steady Crew)

One of the very few hip-hop/rap/whatever it is records that I liked at the time. Not enough to buy it, mind. And I’m staggered to find it doesn’t seem to feature on any of the main music streaming sites, so you get an mp3 download for this one, you lucky people.

15. Rod Stewart – Baby Jane

Jesus wept, this got to #1 in the UK – how??? (Don’t worry bro, I’m not going to call you out twice)

16. Paul Young – Wherever I Lay My Hat

It’s a Marvin Gaye cover. It got to #1. It’s not as awful as his version of Love Will Tear Us Apart, but then very little is. What else do you want me to say???

Apart from this: more soon.