THE BEE GEES - “Tragedy”

The Bee Gees at this point were surely the world’s biggest act: “Tragedy” sounds it, absurd explosion noises and all. It’s a disco epic to file alongside tracks like the Jackson’s “Can You Feel It” but also it’s pop at its most maximalist, a cousin to the largest productions of Steinman, Horn, Martins Max and George - or at the other end of the quality scale, the sickly pomp of a Be Here Now.

Pop on this Roman scale doesn’t seduce, it bludgeons, and you either feel the blow or duck it. For me “Tragedy” is impressive, dramatic, thoroughly enjoyable but not really as effective as the earlier Bee Gees disco tracks - it’s missing the glide of “Night Fever”, the swagger of “Staying Alive”, the paranoia of “You Should Be Dancing”, and replacing them with scale, which doesn’t always age so well. To be sure, somewhere in “Tragedy” there’s an astonishing song capturing a soul - and an era - in meltdown. But I have to stretch to feel it, it doesn’t come over for me naturally, except perhaps in the Gibbs’ panicky falsettos on the chorus, pitched close to unbearable. Though for all that, “Tragedy” has an undeniable decadent power.

A Popular Companion

Like the pictures sleeves, this is something I wish I’d thought of doing aaaages ago, but instead it came to me in a flash tonight when this track showed up in the MP3 player.

A Popular Companion is an MP3 blog, of sorts, accompanying Popular: tracks related, closely or tangentially, to the one I’ve just written about. Ancestors conscious and unconscious, forgotten contemporaries, skewed tributes, piqued rivals, unjust obscurities: expect all sorts. I’ll be drawing liberally on the comments box crew’s expertise and suggestions as they emerge from the froth of discussion, so APC posts won’t accompany the original entries directly. And by all means send me MP3s for consideration!

(I also won’t tag APC entries as part of Popular - you’ll have to read the main FT site to get ‘em).

Without further ado then, the track that sparked this thought: Family Fodder’s spiky song of equivocal postpunk lust for Blondie’s lead singer.

BLONDIE - “Heart Of Glass”

Most of the great records we’ve encountered on Popular find modern-day imitators - but often these imitators aren’t bands I choose to listen to. If a thrusting young beat combo wants to make their own version of “Hot Love” then they have excellent taste, and I wish them every joy of it, but I’ll just sit that one out, ta. “Heart Of Glass”, though - and the rest of Blondie’s hits - are a blueprint for a lot of the pop records I’ve enjoyed most this decade: Ellis-Bextor, Annie, Richard X, Girls Aloud would all murder to have this in their back catalogue (by some kind of marrying-your-grandmother time paradox). … read on …

Something else to read

Something I occasionally get asked is “what about No.1 albums?”. And I think, yes, what about them? The album charts present a different version of pop’s story in this country - some might say a more accurate version. Wouldn’t it be good, then, if someone were to tackle writing about them? Why yes, it would be! And if that someone had a remarkably thorough knowledge of pop, plus the proven blogging stamina to write exhaustively and insightfully about albums of pretty much any genre…. ?

Well, as it happens Marcello’s started a new blog project doing just that. I’ll be reading it, I’m sure you will too. Best of luck to him!

As for Popular, apologies for the slight gap: I’ve been very busy interviewing for and accepting a new job, celebrating that, and tying up loose ends from the old one. In the middle of all that I’m off to France on holiday from Tuesday - it is a wireless enabled holiday but I would say things will be slow moving here until a week or so into September, though I’m hopeful of another entry before I leave. I’m still determined to get well into the 80s by the year’s end, so I will pick up the pace again then. In the meantime, there are 430 old entries to bang on about, the rest of Freaky Trigger to read, and of course Mr Carlin’s new project. See you soon!

After The Goldrush

In an ordinary Olympic games, Britain racks up 5 or 6 gold medals: this time, we have 16 and counting - marvellous news, incredible work on the part of Team GB, etc etc. But also, in a sense a slightly raw deal for some of the athletes involved, as while the pot of fame and endorsements available to successful Olympians will be bigger than usual, it probably won’t be three times as big. Please don’t take this the wrong way: I’m not suggesting that fame and fortune is the main reason any of our athletes compete, but it’s got to be a nice bonus, and the fact is that following these Games some of our winners are going to end up a lot more famous than others.

It was not ever thus - take Britain’s performance at the Barcelona Olympics. Five golds, and four of the athletes involved became more or less household names. But the Beijing mob surely won’t fare quite so well: in fact looking at the media you can already see who’s being groomed for future stardom (in the British sense of the word, i.e. a comfy berth on a daytime TV sofa whenever needed).

What is the FAME FORMULA for Olympic success? In the grand tradition of bogus equations I give you this:

F = (A * C)/R … read on …

IAN DURY AND THE BLOCKHEADS - “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick”

What is the relationship between the charts and everything else? The charts are a show home for pop music, filled with its shiniest mod cons, but one stuffed with hidden doors and tunnels, records that can tumble you out of pop and into other worlds which have their own codes and rules and no cosy countdown to set things in order. And in those other worlds - some of them, anyway - the charts are a sunlit palace of temptation, but to step (or be plucked) into it is to risk having your life and art and the world it came from turned higgledy-piggledy. … read on …

VILLAGE PEOPLE - “Y.M.C.A.”

The baton passes from one manufactured disco band to another, but “Y.M.C.A.” is superior to “Mary’s Boy Child” in absolutely every respect - well, the dancing in the video is just as awful, but in “Y.M.C.A.”’s case the wisdom of crowds soon provided a better alternative. A big part of this song’s success is Victor Willis, who gives his broad-chested lead vocal absolutely everything, starting stentorian and then going steadily more berserk (”PUT YOUR PRIDE ON THE SHELF!”) - gutbucket shouting put to the service of disco goodwill. … read on …

Popular ‘78

I give each record reviewed on Popular a mark out of 10. This is a poll where you can indicate which ones you would have given 6 or more to - pick as many as you like, and discuss the year in general in the comments box if you want.

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My highest mark for 78 went to Kate Bush (10) - my lowest to the Brotherhood of Man (2).

BONEY M - “Mary’s Boy Child/Oh My Lord”

Christmas is a time for the kiddies, but I can’t say Boney M made much impression on this five-year-old: “Mary’s Boy Child” was never quite a first-division carol for me, and as for Frank Farian’s unique contribution to the mythology of Christmas, “Oh My Lord” just didn’t register.

Much though I’d love to be writing a hearty defence of Boney M here, this second No.1 shows them at their worst: self-editing doesn’t seem to be a Farian skill and at almost six minutes this is cripplingly long. It’s a frothy bubblebath at first - the girls’ creamy vocals and the rippling steel drums ushering you into a grotto festooned with Christmas tack - but by the end the water’s getting cold and your toes are looking horribly crinkly. The problem is that the group do the entire of “Mary’s Boy Child” - not in itself a short song - and then go into the “oh my lord” routine. Everyone seems to be on autopilot, and the vim which makes their good songs good is mostly absent (Poor old Bobby Farrell looks unimaginably bored in the video). Go back and listen to “Rasputin” instead.

ROD STEWART - “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”

HAHAHA “Do ya think I’m sexy?” heh heh well the answer to that Rod is…..

NO!

AHAHAHAHAHA!

It’s the gag no pop show talking head can resist, but the title line doesn’t actually show up in this admittedly odd record, and Rod isn’t singing about himself. … read on …