music

[18] Wham!, ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’

A sunny blast of springtime euphoria or annoying drivel from a couple of over-coiffed chancers in Choose Life t-shirts? It’s a quandary that has vexed musicologists for decades. Wham!’s first No.1 reminds me of the days when my parents’ old RAF colleagues used to visit with their children, and my big sister would choreograph a routine for the kids to perform.

I wonder whether Junior will be the winningly bossy older sister. She could do worse. God knows I needed a kick up the backside from time to time, even if it meant doing cringing George Michael impressions. I’ll be forever in big sis’s debt for giving me the opportunity to mime as Simon Le Bon while my younger sister danced on the sand.

From the first “jitterbug”, Junior was firmly on the side of springtime euphoria. She bounced up and down and whacked the sides of the inflatable, and grinned like a life chooser. The record’s an insubstantial piece of fluff but it has a kinetic drive that will never allow you to stay still, with or without your sister’s coercion.

[19] Kool & The Gang, ‘(When You Say You Love Somebody) In The Heart’

An unremarkable record from a band some way past its peak, hurtling headlong towards the nadir of ‘Cherish’. It has a nice, sunny intro, and I remember admiring its 7” vinyl goodness in the lane on the way home from WH Smith. Also in the paper bag were singles from Scritti Politti and OMD. It was the Easter holiday. I don’t have much to say about this.

Junior ate banana porridge, which will probably linger longer in her memory.

[20] Madness, ‘Michael Caine’

One of the later, more melancholy offerings from Madness. Written by Carl Smyth and Woody, with lead vocals from Carl/Chas and – can we say? – an early use of sampling in a pop record, it was the first of their singles to miss the Top 10 in two years. Pity, because it’s a smart little tune. Founder member Mike Barson leaves his piano, and the band, at the start of the video and it’s the beginning of the end.

None of this was denting Junior’s cheerful disposition, as she sat in the trusty inflatable and chewed the entire sponge book. Even Dad’s lame two-ball juggling met with jolly appreciation. I think she understood how much fun Madness were, even when they kept it downbeat.

I’ve heard this song’s about Northern Ireland. The references are somewhat oblique, if you ask me.

[1] TLC, ‘Waterfalls’

There’s a persistent rumour that this song was written by Prince, perhaps spread by those who refused to believe his muse had long since shrugged its shoulders and snuck off. Anyway, I don’t think it is, not even one of his ‘Manic Monday’ noms de plume. No doubting though that its tight funkiness and melody could have graced the mauve midget’s mid-’80s output.

So, it’s No.1. It’s not the expected conclusion of the preceding tracks, but I never tire of it. Not one jot. The soft wah-wah, T-Boz’s purr, the flowing bassline, Left-Eye’s arsonist Minnie Mouse rap – it sticks together like glue, every element essential to the sequencing of the tune. Yeah, the lyrics can be facile, but they lodge in your brain, the harmonies papering over the cracks. TLC led the ’90s r’n’b girl group boom, tracks like this, ‘Creep’ and ‘No Scrubs’ easily outstripping their peers.

A big hit with Junior too, this time giving the tray of her high chair a hammering, bouncing up and down within the strictures of the straps, her eyes crinkling with delight. A perfectly formed little gem for, well, you know. Aww.

[2] Take That, ‘Back For Good’

Well I never. There are two types of people: those who understand that this is a pop classic and those who reckon that Robbie Williams’ wrongheaded, legacy-pissing, smug “punk” cover is somehow better. That kind of thing narks me right off. They’re the same earnest Mojo readers who dislike ‘.. Baby One More Time’ and ‘Independent Women’ but fawn over Travis’ and Elbow’s respective versions. Bands who do this believe that they’re legitimising the song by stripping the pop nous and adding dreary rock chords. They’re not. It’s an in-joke that reveals their fear of what the boys might think.

You can possibly tell which side of the fence I occupy. I never had a problem with Take That, a blessed relief after New Kids On The Block. The songs were ordinary, inoffensive, with the odd one or two rising above the parapet. Then I saw them perform this on the Brits and was bowled over by the hooks and its near perfect form. The middle eight is weak, but nothing else is, and it doesn’t outstay its welcome. Hindsight shows it was a one-off for Gary Barlow, the awkward, rotund George Michael that never was.

Junior and I didn’t have time to discuss the record. She sat in the ring and chewed her foam pig while I puzzled over why the mixer was making everything sound fuzzy. I should dust more often. A flawed performance then, an ill-fitting tribute to this soppy dazzler.

[3] Black Grape, ‘Reverend Black Grape’

Junior was agog as her dad performed the Bez dance with a finesse hitherto unexpected. The inflatable ring is the perfect vantage point for appreciating both music and performance. She slapped her hands on the sides and gave panda a quick spin to the rumbustious verses; they’ll be happy memories if she’s not scarred for life.

This record is more bananas yet more direct than anything the Happy Mondays released. Ideas fly all over the shop, Kermit declaims like an acid casualty possessed, the lyric is hilariously crazed. There is a message, mind you. Beyond the tangents and flights of fancy, there are irreverent barbs at the corruption of organised religion, with TV evangelists and the Vatican getting it in the neck. What happened to fat lady wrestlers, Shaun?

Unhinged ad libs, bellowed choruses and frantic harmonica see the song to a close. The head’s spinning; time to bring it down a notch.

[4] The Charlatans, ‘Just When You’re Thinkin’ Things Over’

A joyous noise from everyone’s 22nd favourite band at their peak. Junior listened to it from her new inflatable ring, watching with growing fascination as her dad thrashed out the old air piano on the back of the sofa. I’d be unstoppable with real instruments.

That’s if I could identify them. The first couple of times I heard this song, I thought there was a saxophone solo halfway through. Wouldn’t have been such a bad idea on a track that bowls along breezily like this. It could carry it off.

There were “g”s dropped all over the album – ‘Just When You’re Thinkin’..’, ‘Just Lookin’’, ‘Crashin’ In’ – as the Charlatans tried to prove to us that they were really ROCK and ROLL, and not just a bunch of baggy also-rans. We know Junior likes the rock, and this one saw her giving the new squawk an early morning run-out. They’re not as loveable as Supergrass, but they still make you feel quite warm.

[5] Pulp, ‘Common People’

This one topped many end of year lists, so I won’t try to add too much or rabbit on about Jarvis Cocker’s art college youth. We all know it’s a landmark record of its time, even if it’s only marking the ordinary backwaters of Britpop.

What I like best about it is that it’s a song that knows it has a Final Chorus, and it builds up to it like it’s an event. It’s ever more frantic, juddery and head-pounding, and you’re there with it at the end. And everyone knows the wit and wile of the words.

Junior danced to this, standing up bouncing on her mum’s lap, savouring the rush. She’s getting ready to slum it with the common people at nursery in a couple of weeks.

Thumbing through the singles afterwards, I put on ‘Babies’. I always liked Pulp, but I never felt I could love them. ‘Babies’ was the exception.

[6] Massive Attack, ‘Protection’

Postscript: all the dance records that get in the charts these days sound like Spagna’s ‘Call Me’. I don’t know if it’s any better in the clubs, because I’m too old and a dad.

Massive Attack redefined a small area of club music. Blue Lines was the pinnacle, and it still holds up today with ease. Its reputation grew over a few years until the expectation surrounding the Protection album was nigh on unbearable; in the end, they couldn’t take the weight. Tricky was reduced to cameos and Mushroom became estranged, some truly awful tracks got past quality control.

This single was a beauty, affecting, hypnotic, metronomic, with the newly fashionable Tracey Thorn to the fore. Junior was spellbound, only breaking free and demo-ing the new cockateel dance towards the end, so it’s a hit with the infant jury.

What happened next? Mezzanine, was a “dark”, “moody” piece beloved of the tastemakers. Yep, dull. A feature length BMW ad soundtrack. Then there was the unlistenable, po-faced tosh of 100th Window. Either excessive marijuana use has muted the muse, or 3-D without his cohorts is a bore. The new single is ok thanks to Terry Callier’s rich voice, but it’s still melodically uninteresting. It’s all been such a disappointment.

[7] De’Lacy, ‘Hideaway’

Junior and I had a go at slapping out the military house beat on the sofa cushions. We were bang-on and superfly.

Right. I like the cheekily long breakdown on this, not quite rivalling Daft Punk’s ‘One More Time’ but good enough. It’s a belting vocal and a moment of dancefloor epiphany as the clattering percussion starts to come in a few seconds before we’re off and running again. Ignore the more straightforward remix that surfaced a few years later; this is the one with the soul. ‘Dubfire Needs To Score’, it’s called.

Maybe I edged over the hill after this, but I don’t think house/techno/dance in general gave us much of note from here on. In the early ’90s, Tony’s Records were selling us a couple of classics a week.