In an NME interview, John Peel once named this record as his personal worst of all time. The man heard a really very large number of bad records so this claim made quite an impression on me. And it’s easy to imagine the young Peel, earnestly making a name for himself playing the furthest out progressive rock to – he might hope – a turned-on nation, being utterly and profoundly horrified that the British public chose this instead.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, though. British pop culture, for all that it mostly measures itself against its own past or an American present, is subject to occasional spasms of admiration for the sophisticates of Continental Europe. On a subcultural level this gave the UK mod, among other things. At the supercultural level of the singles chart it tends to manifest itself in the occasional hit by Brits rolling around in broad European stereotypes – David Whitfield, Rene and Renata, and here Peter Sarstedt. My MP3 of “Where Do You Go To My Lovely?” is genre-tagged “chanson”, which is somehow both insane and appropriate.
This is a completely, whole-heartedly, marvellously bogus record. Marvellously not because it’s good but because Sarstedt with his pseudo-French accent sells its naffness with such gusto. Its storyline – street kid becomes rich socialite but cannot escape her past – is basically an excuse for a list of high-ticket brand and celebrity names, drawn out to remarkable length. The awful eye-rolling apogee is reached when Sarstedt follows the phrase “for a laugh” with an “a-ha-ha-ha” of such well-rehearsed spontaneity I cringe.
“Where Do You Go To My Lovely?” sounds so ridiculous now it’s quite the entertaining listen: certainly there’s no way I’d agree with Peel’s assessment. The question I can’t answer is: was it ridiculous then, even to the people who bought it? Certainly there is no reason why liking a record enough to buy it need also involve “taking it seriously” – for starters, “My Lovely” is an entertainingly imitatable record. But it’s also possible that buyers in 1969 did find it moving, or mysterious, or sophisticated – reactions that seem uncanny to me now.
Score: 3
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Well said. This is an interesting move for the number ones, as it’s one of the first ones whre if I think about it at all, it completely irritates me – while if I’m not paying attention to the lyrics at all it’s quite pleasant, good head-bobbing, nice rises and falls in the the tune, all that.
The only thing I can think to add is that this seems like some sort of delayed-action Dylan payoff for the UK charts – “Mighty Quinn” aside – how did “Like A Rolling Stone” do over yonder? The second-person “I can look inside your head” sneering put-down is straight out of the Dylan playbook; sure, it’s dressed up here in a “French” flavor with light strings and that corny imitation street performer accordion, and the name-dropping, but it’s “Positively 4th Street” at heart. The juggling act that probably got this to number one is that Sarstedt isn’t quite so nasty, and for all the hamminess does manage to leave it ambiguous: is this girl a grotesque joke, a sympathetic tragedy, or just an unreachable love object? The titular question is, on second reflection, fairly obscure: Where do you go to? What? When? Like, where does she go when the party’s over? (Alone, to her cold apartment?) Or where are the parties exactly? (And why can’t he come?)
None of which is to say that it’s not massively corny and embarassing as a lyric, but just that I can at least sort of understand the way this one functions as a hit.
OOOOOOOOH! Let’s make believe we’re sophisticated French intellectuals! But hey–aren’t we putting down girls who go to France and pretend to be French intellectuals (or, at very least, trendy jet-setters)? Oh, wait–let’s try this instead: Hey, B*tch, you think you’re so hot and you forgot me, your working-class boyfriend, but I haven’t forgotten you! (No, wait–working-class blokes don’t speak/sing with phony French accents. . . .) Well (sneer), you know what I mean–I love to hate you and I hate to love you, so, um, ah-ha-ha-ha! (There. That put her in her place!)
But seriously, folks, this snide bit of pseudo-French, pseudo-sophisticated, pseudo-Jacques Brel theatrics constantly self-deconstructs. It might seem original–it certainly pretended to be–but methinks it’s a knock-off of the Rolling Stones’ more effectively pseudo-French (wheezing concertina and all) and genuinely snide “Backstreet Girl.”
To the best of my recollection, my response to this business back in 1969 was that I was unsure just how I should respond to it, but as a working-class girl whose ambition was to have ambition and get out of that little refinery town, I sensed someone might be making fun of me–and even though I was much too nice to steal from Picasso, I thought “well why shouldn’t she ditch this creep and go to Paris?” (After all, I wanted to ditch everyone and run off to London.) I had just turned eighteen, and my limited girls school background was such that I knew it was a nasty song but still I was sufficiently naive to think that it might actually be serious. I didn’t find it moving or really mysterious, though I probably thought it “sophisticated.” I just knew that it was mean-spirited.
Back when we were on the Arthur Brown discussion, I mentioned a DVD set of obscure origin with nearly 100 video clips of rock/pop performances from 1960s British television broadcasts. When I watched them all the way through, lo and behold–there was Peter Sarstedt! He had passed out of my memory altogether for over thirty years! He was dressed in some absurd dandyish outfit that I’m sure was supposed to make him look, um, Continental, and I realized what a supercilious bore he really was.
(And then he came out with some fool thing about “I’ll buy you one more frozen orange juice” that came off like an overblown commercial, and then, thankfully, he went away, making room for the next purveyor of pompous nonsense.)
But you know, that wheezing concertina is the most compelling part of the song. I almost like it.
P.S. (which does not stand for Peter Sarstedt):
I always thought he was wearing a wig.
This always made me cringe – there was a sense of pass-the-bucket even then – and it makes me cringe even now,
Could the crimes against chanson get more heinous? Well yes – just wait till I get my chance to rant against Seasons in the Sun. But for now I feel like crying “Next Business!”
Sarstedt was the brother of Eden Kane (qv) – how many other siblings have, independently, had number ones?
I think the moustache tells you all you need to know.
Re. siblings – the Bedingfields! Even at my current healthy workrate it’ll be a while before we reach them, though.
And Paul McCartney’s brother was in Scafford, wasn’t he? (Or was it his brother-in-law?)
It is a nasty song, isn’t it? To be honest its long-windedness screens that element out for me.
Did this record help invent Momus?
“my lovely” won the 1969 ivor novello award jointly with “space oddity”, so he had industry respectability — actually i’ve been trying to find on the net HOW this award is decided (ie who gets to vote) (and what this respectability constitutes) but have failed
judging by sarstedt’s own official site — which is pretty meagre but has a complete discography — he is a kind of a FAILED BOWIE: which is to say he comes into mainstream pop from a curiosity zone really (arts-lab novelty chanson loungefolk), but doesn’t have bowie’s admirably singleminded last-gasp-of-vaudeville willingness to DO anything; TRY anything
other tidbits; he had a TV series in 1969 (this would explain a lot — can anyone recall anything about it?); and haha in the ever-awesome SKIDMORE DATABASE i found the headline for a 1969 piece by future-shapin hipster NICK LOGAN viz “Peter Sarstedt’s Tears Helpd Create His Songs”!!
Oddly lots of this run of records are quite evocative to me, potentially because they are also one hit wonders and thus had a degree of novelty value (it was also easier to have a view on a bands entire career when they only had one success). And novelty (for a UK single) is probably what kept this one alive for me too – to the extent that I think I have played it at most Club Popular’s, in the closest I would admit to a Guilty Pleasures / so bad its good vein.
Where does Sarstedt’s cod continentalisms stand in comparison to Scott Walker’s interpretations of Brel, etc. After all, Walker did have a TV series in early 1969, so there was potential interest in this kind of contintental, story based song style. But was Walker releasing singles at this point (actually its about Scott 4 time, when the Brel stuff was dropping off?)
WHO DIDN’T HAVE A TV SERIES IN 1969?!!? i want my licence fee back
Ah yes I didn’t connect it to Scott Walker/Brel – I guess this stuff was “in the air” (though WHY I don’t know, PAGING ROBIN C!!).
Sarah C if you are reading this I think you should have played this song at that french club night!
When I was a kid I always assumed the Bonzos’ “My Pink Half Of The Drainpipe” was a “My Lovely” pisstake but actually it came out the previous year, so the target must have been Brel-ism in general.
I’ve always liked “Frozen Orange Juice” (top ten later in ’69 so Not An Actual One Hit Wonder). “You rescue me, I rescue you”…yes, I can identify with that…
Mind you, side one, track one of the parent album (On Cool: The Thoughts Of A Contemporary Songwriter) is entitled “Take Off Your Clothes”…
Never mind Scott Walker, what about Jake Thackray and his Brel/Brassens/Bernard Braden inspired chansonnerie! Also, judging by his song about rent boys, “The Boys On the Verandah” (covered by the ever-so-butch Lou Christie in 1970), P. Sarstedt is not so far from Bowie/Momus after all!
having combed the net for tales of PS’s success in later life i have concluded that his bitterness in “lovely” has been entirely justified, entirely retrospectively; that he has been punished enough (look at his imdb entry!); and that this song is actually about FICKLE FAME and her SLINKY WILES
ahahaha!
On Cool: The Thoughts Of A Contemporary Songwriter?
ok maybe he hasn’t been punished enough after all!
for reasons unknown my father loved this song and would get the folk band to play it at labour party dos in the mid/late 80s. obviously being folkers this involved a few lyric changes, particularly repeating the “on your back and on your legs” bit after “i know you still bear the scars”. also as they tended not to have an accordian player, it turned into a bit more of a belter… so i kindof really like it, but for reasons of memories rather than any deep appreciation of the song, i think…
and it is i who have played this at populars, surely?
I quite like it. Liked it at the time too. Wouldn’t go to war to defend it or anything, but aren’t we all being just a tad sneery here?
Is Tad Sneery posting today?
sneery is mark’s shtick usually — now that we have all piled on he is stuck w.bein nice which he doesn’t enjoy as much!
I’ve always twinned him in my mind with Peter Wyngarde-as-Jason King, and I don’t think it was soley the tache…
There was more than one Sarstedt too, there was definitely a Robin and I fear there was another one too
salad of all the sarstedts!!
(except robin and richard) (who may actually be the same person!)
No, Richard was Eden Kane and Robin Sarstedt went top three in ’76 with a reproduction antique reading of “My Resistance Is Low.”
It just struck me reading this, that this song makes an interesting companion piece to “Common People” – the protagonist in both songs is a member of the underclass and the girl is (at least nowadays) a classy bird, but whereas Peter’s girl is doing her best to leave her humble roots – and him – behind, Jarvis’s is trying to embrace his class by means of embracing him (kind of). They’re both sneering at the girl, Peter for her upward mobility and Jarvis for her downward class tourism, but of course it’s Jarvis we empathise with more. Kind of reflects the aspirations of the times they were talking about…
The subject of the song is commonly thought to be Sophia Loren, who had a poverty-stricken childhood in Naples, if that informs the discussion at all!
Four Sarstedts!
I find the Sophia Loren theory really unconvincing: yes, she grew up in southern Italy, but her schtick was surely “earthy sensuality” rather than cod-intellectual w/designer labels sophistication.
I read somewhere a long time ago that it might have been about pre-Jagger Bianca (“where you keep your Rolling Stones records” etc.).
if future-shapin hipster NICK LOGAN is to be believed — see note above — then PS actually DATED “my lovely” and she wz the love of his life!
When I saw the picture of this guy, I thought, “Freddie Prinze had a #1 song in England??”
Based on the review and replies, I’m guessing Freddie would’ve been more enjoyable.
Just to answer a couple of questions hinted earlier in the thread:
Dylan had six Top Ten hits in the Sixties (and several lesser ones, not to mention albums). ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ got to 4, so he was certainly a familiar name well before this. But of course some people wouldn’t have found him too difficult.
Mike McGear is indeed Paul McCartney’s brother. But the Sarstedts and the Bedingfields are the only siblings to have seperate solo chart-toppers.
I think part of the reason we have more sympathy for Jarvis is that he wrote a better song. Not the only reason, but if PS wants us to sympathise, he shouldn’t come through as such an arse in the song.
Other observations:
Tom Robinson likes this record.
This storyline is something of a perennial in male-fronted pop, eg: ‘Stepping Stone’, ‘Wait Till Your Boat Goes Down’, ‘Baby Jane’ etc. But, as noted above, this is not one of the more likeable ones because the protagonist seems such an arse. The fact that I can’t think of a gender-reversed equivalent probably tells us something, too.
When I read this post earlier in the day, I was all set to post a anecdote about seeing him on the telly, but I realised on my way home that the anecdote was actually about Peter Skellern. Oops.
The fact that I can’t think of a gender-reversed equivalent probably tells us something, too.
“You’re So Vain” is at least in the right ballpark, surely? And add “Big Shot” to the list of hard-to-like male-voiced ones….
I hated this as a kid – even so young the whiff of cheese permeated the radio every time it was on (which was far too often in 1969). Even though I was actually fooled into thinking he was French it didn’t help his cause in the ITF household probably also because I didn’t have a clue what the hell he was on about. Now though I can look back wisely and appreciate it as a GP even though (or is it because) he comes over as a complete arse in the lyric.
ITF
my dad had a whole Peter Starstedt album on tape and used to play it on long car journeys all the time when I was little. Complete torture. As well as this one, there is a jokey song about trying to get a lady into the sack and a v serious one about BEIRUT.
They used to play WDYGTML every week at the gay club Duckie and everyone would join in on the “a ha ha ha” bit
but Robin and Clive Sarstedt are one and the same person (multiple self xpost).
I kinda feel this is a dumbed down version of ” Like a Rolling Stone ” complete with the Mary Quant knickers janutily placed on PS’s bonnet.
Ah, the Jet Set & the Beautiful People…let’s remember they were out there and were admired then as much as Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie are today.
It was part of a sub-genre at the time of records that had a bit of pseudo glamour and cod sophistication by tossing in references to all things European -Windmills of my Mind was another and possibly some of Scott Walker’s Brel stuff, though he carried it off a lot better. Plus Peter Sarstedt picked up a bit of street cred by looking a bit like Tariq Ali, always in the papers at the time heading up anti-Vietnam war demos
Where are the European references in “Windmills Of Your Mind” apart from its being co-written by a Frenchman?
windmills = mind is somewhere in holland
Han Bennink is somewhere in Holland but that doesn’t make Animal Out Of The Muppet Show European!
in my mind animal will always be belgian
And the Muppet Show was film in Borehamwood, which is sort of in Europe.
Animal was actually Ronnie Verrell, Ted Heath’s old drummer and in later life one of Frank Skinner’s Skinnerettes. Also Buddy Rich’s all-time favourite drummer other than himself; they did do a duet on one episode which could have taught yer Lovens and Lytton a few tricks.
haha it is like glimpses of how the FREEMASONS (aka 12-ft-lizards) are actually running everything!
(ok i know this ted heath is not the organ-playing prime minister OR SO THEY WOULD LIKE US TO BELIEVE)
i specially like the idea that PETER SARSTEDT and TARIQ ALI are the same lizard under the skin, which would explain much about the music-coverage policies of… BUT I HAVE SAID TOO MUCH
Right, so it was Peter Sarstedt who sat on my manuscript for 18 months was it? It all makes sense now.
Re Windmills of your Mind -a song can paint a mood without necesarily having specific lyric references. St Etienne do it brilliantly.Anyway, a snowball down a mounain? A carousel thats turning rings around the moon? A cavern where the sun has never shone? Can’t be England
Yes, St Etienne did “Windmills” brilliantly. But Dusty did it even better.
I am loving this discussion. This is the first I knew that this performer or this song existed. I am still in the state of not having heard this, a state that YouTube will shortly undermine this state (“the film Amelie is wonderful and I’ve cut footage from it together with the equally wonderful song ‘Where Do Yo Go To My Lovely’ by Peter Sarstedt”). Oh OK, I have heard this, many times. But it seems to me I’ve often heard better versions than this one. But Allmusic lists only Gerry & the Pacemakers and Tim Rose as having recorded covers, so I guess this is the version I’ve heard. An excellent lilting melody. I must have improved the performance to match the melody. Commentary here should at least acknowledge the fact that this is a song that sticks (even if the fellow’s attitude stinks).
I mean, my memory must have improved the performance to match the melody. But honestly, even as is, this is at least a 7.5 on my Paper Thin Walls* scale (equal to B-PLUS on the Xgau), would be higher with better singing and better words. The words are as despicable as you all say, but they’re not incompetent, and they give the singer something to go on about (and the fact that the songs you guys are comparing it to are all 9.0s or 10.0s must say something in this record’s favor).
(*If I were doing Popular I’d downshift the scale about a point, setting B-PLUS at 6.5. After all, THESE ARE NUMBER ONES. Tom’s probably done something similar, to leave headroom at the top.)
BEASTLY trick, cutting together this godawful song with scenes from a movie that will never fail to conjure up goosebumps and teary eyes from me….