Without theft, there is no pop, but it’s still rather squirmsome to hear the more lumbering attempts. Brotherhood of Man’s – let’s be generous – tribute to ABBA fails partly because it doesn’t stick closely ENOUGH to its source material. ABBA records gain what emotional power they have from the force of the melody and performance letting you fill in what the lyrics miss out. So “Fernando”, a record the Brotherhood might possibly have heard when working on “Angelo”, works because the melody creates the regret the lyrics deny, and because the background to this strained campfire conversation is hinted at but never crystallised. “Angelo”, on the other hand, has no truck with such subtleties, preferring to spell out the tragic fate of shepherd boy Angelo at the same time as hammering it home with the music.
To be fair to the Brotherhood, it’s not like most death ballads don’t take this Donald-ate-the-pie* approach to storytelling. A death song pastiche of “Fernando” should more properly be something along the lines of “Ode To Billie Joe” or the Shangri-La’s “Past, Present And Future”, where it’s obvious that something apalling and unspoken is happening in the background but it’s fearfully unclear what. Both those songs are, not by coincidence, amazing. “Angelo” is not. At no point during the progress of the record do I care about Angelo, or his chick, and I don’t get any sense of place or personality or stake or anything at all, in fact the only thing in the lyric to remark on is that awkward slip into Yodaspeak in one of the verses: “Rich was she”, a clumsy shoehorn which seems to sum up the whole record.
For all that, I wouldn’t call “Angelo” actually bad. Its slipshod laziness is still a hundred times preferable to “Save All Your Kisses For Me”, and at least you get to cheer as Angelo pops his clogs. Also, by luck or study, the Brotherhood have hit on a belter of a chorus, with the “They took their LIVES that NIGHT” section as rousing an imitation of ABBA as you’ll find in the late 70s: at that moment “Angelo” seizes some kind of momentum, which it quickly squanders, but there’s still enough hook behind the clumsiness to stop me really disliking this.
*A brief explanation of Donald-ate-the-pie: this useful critical concept was introduced to me by the Dirty Vicar, and comes from a Mickey Mouse cartoon strip. Panel one shows a pie, baked by Mickey. Panel two shows Mickey’s distress as he discovers his pie has vanished. Panel three shows Donald Duck, with his long neck distorted by the unmistakable shape of a pie. Panel four shows Mickey saying “IT WAS DONALD. HE ATE THE PIE.” So it springs to mind whenever I come across exposition that is not only ungainly but actively undermines previously achieved neatness. It actually isn’t at all applicable to “Angelo”, then, which never goes anywhere near neatness, but the concept is more fun than the song really.
Score: 5
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Yeah, I feel that I ought to confess that I do quite like this one. It does get me tapping my toe and singing along – although that’s as far as my emotional engagement goes.
I know that it’s hackwork, I’d be surprised if anybody could detect any hidden depths or unexpected nuances in it, I know that it’s rather a glib and meretricious use of death in a song… Yet I’m still glad that it exists.
Does this make it a guilty pleasure?
Another antecedent of this, to my mind, which is closer to this Romeo and Juliet tale of star-crossed lovers than Abba’s story of heroic partisans, is the song Les Amants d’un Jour (which I have here by Edith Piaf which should be plenty for anybody but I dare say others had a go. Piaf sings it in English so I don’t know if it’s a French song or not but she does make it completely French in that inimitable way she had.) But Piaf’s tale is a million times better than this, not least because, as with Billie Joe, we don’t really know what drove the young lovers to seek oblivion after their one day of passion. I love that song because it’s perfect chanson noir, and because of that I can’t really take Angelo, which spells out everything and in a far-too-sparky way, seriously.
Certainly better than SYKFM, but I’d be feeling very generous if I gave it a 4.
Utter, irredeemable dreck!
Even listening to it now without the omnipresence of ABBA which surrounded most things pop at the time, it sounds like a “Crackerjack” end-of-the-show pastiche of ABBA, done to Mr Glaze and his chum’s usual non-existent standards.
Even the Barron Knights pi**-take was better, and they had lost it by 1977.
I think I’d have preferred Showaddywaddy’s rather limp reading of “You Got What It Takes” which was kept at #2 by this pile of poo!
It’s like punk never happened etc, furrowed brow, taps pipe against study bench.
Was this what they were singing when the tape went backwards that time they always show on TOTP?
The chorus is surprisingly bouncy and fun, given that it’s a song about suicide. It is hackwork but it’s lazy hackwork. A subject like this might at least spin the story out over three verses, taking through a series of vicissitudes, before cornering them with suicide as the only way of not being parted. Instead, this is so abbreviated that basically it’s saying: ‘it’s a kind of Romeo and Juliet story, fill in the rest yourself’. Abba never did that.
This was what caused the spoiler bunny to have a go at me on the Fernando thread, as I really, really could not believe that Angelo could have made it to number one. Vinylscot is right when he says the Barron Knights version is better, there is something so fantastically anodyne about Angelo that its plot, clearly penned by a three year old, makes worse. As an Abba pastiche it feels like it was written by people who may have been told about Fernando down the pub after a couple of pints, rather than a studious reinterpretation. Bear in mind that the BOM were the native English speakers when you look at the language and phrasing compare with Fernando and you can see there are no redeeming qualities.
I think Angelo actually is one of the few records that makes me angry.
Wretched. A blatant, desperate effort to copy their far superior models, Abba, with a sorrowful song about some Mediterranean geezer, wot’s name ends in O. But whereas the Swedes’ track oozed class, this synthetic twin was risible. Yet the public fell for it, dagnabbit! And they were to fall for exactly the same scam again in 1978, the fools.
As far as hardcore minimalism goes, the Brotherhood of Man might have Moroder beaten; “Angelo” consists of one verse, chorus, half of the same verse, and then chorus repeated to fade. If only they had left out the verse they might even have challenged certain other minimalist number ones which will come Popular’s way in the longer term. If only the Brotherhood had had the decency to pursue the dignified Middle of the Road career pathway – the latter followed up “Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep” with, among others, “Tweedledee Tweedledum” and “Soley Soley,” both of which I should additionally note went top five – but no, all of a sudden they thought they were Abba. To put it bluntly, “Angelo” makes “Fernando” sound like Diamanda Galas’ “Wild Women With Steak Knives.” The lyric and arrangement – poor shepherd boy Angelo (who naturally lived long ago, and even more inevitably, high on a mountain in Mexico) falls in love with a rich young girl, so it’s doomed already, and so they run off and obligingly do themselves in: “They found them lying there/They found them on the sand/Hand in hand” (cue sub-sub-sub-sub-sub “Dancing Queen” piano cascade) – would have been dated 20 years previously. The chorus pictures them “running away forever” which pretty much fits the chorus itself, which seems to run on for flipping ever, so interminably that one waits for Benny Hill and Bob “99% Of Gargoyles” Todd to come on in comedy sombreros and frilly shirts and gurn at the camera for a minute or twelve. Very possibly the least sexy of all number ones.
But I could just about imagine “running away together, running away forever” being sampled into something else and becoming a lot more affecting, disconnected from its unfortunate ‘Summertime Special’ period aesthetic context.
I realise that I do derive a certain level of crossword puzzle fun, from rhymes and arrangements that you can predict with completely accuracy the first time that you hear them.
Obviously not a patch on Middle of the Road, though.
inevitably perhaps i kind of like angelo, it’s SUCH a lost unwanted useless runt-waif of a song — it’s because it’s irredeemable, i suppose, so i end up feeling quite sorry for it
one of the side-effects of being involved at the far weird end of music for so long, where “important artists” had single-figure fanbases and everything was about TAKING A STAND AGAINST THE USELESSNESS OF ALL THE WORLD, is that you end up jadedly super-fascinated by the other end, which i guess this might represent — people who seriously and simply had Brotherhood of Man (such a utopian name!) as their own favourite band
or, to put “running away together, running away forever” another way, “baby we were born to run.”
Recalling it, does the whole song seem as though it could be contained in a 45 second version?
Their previous single, a cover of “Oh boy, the mood I’m in” wasn’t half bad.
Mind you, the follow-up “Highwayman” was total toffee, “stealing kisses where you can, you look so familiar highwayman” (it’s her old man) and flopped fantastically.
For reasons beyond obscure, this is exactly the sort of thing I can imagine Tim Henman listening to.
It seems cruel to point out that the US #1 at the same time was The Emotions’ “Best of My Love” but there you have it. Then again, Andy Gibb mania was gripping us over here as well and he won’t be troubling us at all here, so far as I can remember.
Imagine copying Abba’s worst hit. What were they thinking of? Apart from the cash, I mean. 4 would be generous.
Re: “The Emotions’ “Best of My Love” Lucky damn yanquis.
“For reasons beyond obscure, this is exactly the sort of thing I can imagine Tim Henman listening to.”
Unduly harsh, shurely?
Probably – with “Tiger” Tim I suspect it’s still Brothers In Arms all the way with a dash of something modern, e.g. the Lighthouse Family.
From my idle observation of the Guardian’s “What’s Rocking Sport” I conclude that tennis players pretty much all have really abominable taste. Motorsport dudes also. I guess it’s to do with being exposed to a lot of deadly motivational music/text from a very young age.
“There’s nothing better to get me pumped up for hard action than heavy metal like Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams, though I do like some of the hardcore rap stuff like Puff Daddy and Fresh Prince. There’s nothing better to get me chilled out after hard action than some soft rock like James Gray or David Blunt. I like all sorts, really.”
So what do you reckon Andy Murray was grooving to yesterday, then? – Waldo, as our tennis correspondent?
Oh, and as for “Angelo” – complete dreck.
I’ve seen interviews with Murray where he talks about his appreciation of The Black Eyed Peas.
I enjoyed the England football team press conference where some hack asked what music they played on the team coach.
“50 Cent,” said David James, his face betraying no emotion.
“And who chooses the music you list –”
“Beckham. It’s David Beckham,” said ‘Calamity’ James with teeth-gritted neutrality.
Is Pat Nevin still football’s token indie kid?
Stuart Pearce was notoriously punk-loving, which extended to some post-punk like The Fall. Wasn’t he brought on stage for the Pistols’ Filthy Lucre reunion tour?
yes.
Gawd, I just had to go to YouTube to remind myself if this was as bad as I remembered. Soon as I heard that opening rhyme of “long ago-Mexico-Angelo” I knew it was. The horror…the horror. The chorus weren’t too bad though.
The brunette singer looked like Frida after she’d been hit in the face with a shovel.
It’s rubbish, and I’d have given it less than five, but it’s pretty harmless, just catchy and empty pop sounding like the top pop of the time. I can’t get offended by it, but nor do I care if I ever hear it again.
I’ve never heard this, but the rather extraordinary comments here make me wonder if I should. . . .
But, then again, I fear I might be disappointed if I did. Can it live up (or down) to the godawfulness you all describe??
Only you can answer that, Doc Mod. But yes, I not only listen to all the number ones including a few years in advance, I have them all in my mega playlist and I won’t allow myself to skip any of them. There are actually very, very few indeed that I feel any urge to skip, I must say. Save All Your Kisses For Me is one of them. Seasons in the Sun is another. I’m hard pressed to think of any others and Angelo certainly isn’t one. Ask me again when we’ve covered another four years…
What’sa madda you, Rosie?
I gotta no respec’ Billy. Not for da nonna and not for da coniglio!
#2: Les amants d’un jour was written & composed by one Michel Emer (1906-84). The original French version crops up on Piaf collections and also found its way onto a rather good (and well-curated) various-artists compilation called Paris Blues: The French ‘realist’ singers 1926-1958. Although it’s right at the end of the period covered (it came out in 1956), its position right at the beginning of the CD makes it a grabber, and makes you want to listen to the rest…
Which brings me on to ‘Angelo’. It can’t have made an impression on me, because I have absolutely no memory of it! Which is odd, because I can remember almost all of the records on this list, even if only vaguely.
So I listened and saw. One must take a break from a gargantuan project every now and then.
I dunno, Rosie. This one isn’t getting into my iPod of unending delights–which I look to as my salvation in enduring the long flight to Oz in a few days. For my part, time’s winged chariot at my back tell me not to expend too much of my remaining time (only 33 years left if I live to be ninety like some of my aunts), so I now give myself permission to skip over the sub-par in favor of something–anything–more pleasing. You’re a stronger soul than I if you can resist skipping “Seasons in the Sun.”
Having experienced it in its entirety once, I needn’t ever do it again. (Come to think of it, I’ve said the same thing about Paradise Lost, but no real analogy is intended.)
But yes, the brunette actually does look like Frida getting hit in the face with a shovel, and getting hit even as she sings. But I suppose that singing cheery choruses describing suicide and trying to look sincere while doing so can have that effect on a girl.
(And just as bad, whoever wrote this can’t tell the difference between an Italian name and a Spanish one. Faux exoticism indeed!)
Of course, Angelo needn’t be Mexican. I am certain that the song alludes to the Italian diaspora that established itself in regions like Puebla and Veracruz in the late-nineteenth century. It adds, after all, a further dimension to the tale, since the Italian-Mexican community was notoriously defensive of its traditions, refusing to integrate. Most of the first wavers were farm workers, which fits the story. Angelo, being a young man, might reasonably be supposed as a second-generation immigrant, so the song would be dated to the 1910s, which probably qualifies for ‘Long ago’. The pressures on young Angelo to marry within the community would have been at least as strong a barrier as class, which the song foregrounds.
Or… maybe it’s just faux-exoticism.
Not exactly Montagues and Capulets, is it (SB alert)?
“Best Of My Love” – A quality track indeed, and, of course, it’s shameful to have to compare it with “Angelo”. Tis rather akin to lining up another pair of US/UK similtaneous number ones I (and no doubt Lena) could name, the sublime “Black Water” from the Doobies over there and “If” by Kojak here.
# 26 + 33 – Well, I personally thought that the Brotherhood brunette was quite sweet, shovel or no shovel, but there you go.
# 20 – I would imagine that young Mr Murray (whom madam and I saw win his opening match last week) would have been wired into his mum’s Nazereth cassettes for the Gasquet match. Judy Murray, now THAT’S a girlie who looks not so much like having been hit in the face by a shovel as having had a serious run-in with Lizzie Borden…
As for Mr Mustle himself, great comeback the other day but today will see the end of the line for the wee laddie, having fulfilled his seeding as Popular’s tennis correspondent predicted. He may well take a set off Nadal, though. It’s just a shame that he has all the charm of an ashtray, which I don’t suppose would improve even if Ana Ivanovich sat on his face. “Dour” doesn’t come even close!
Neither did Henman…face it, Torygraph-reading Centre Court scone-laden audience, tea and crumpets and self-deprecation ain’t gonna win Wimbledon. What do they think this is – 1977?
That having been said, alas Murray is liable to a triple straight set slaughter this afternoon/evening. But careful how we speak of the Murray man since SB is twitching…
I don’t find Andy Murray dour at all, actually. And he’s got much more of the winner about him than bloody wimpy Henman. He may be underdog against Nadal but I don’t like Nadal. Now, anybody getting in the way of my Roger, that’s another matter…
*insert Talbot Rothwell punchline of your choice*
Incidentally, it’s now raining in SW London so it looks like we’ll be getting Sir Cliff this afternoon instead of Andy…
Sleevewatch: I wonder why the bottom bit of the frame BOM are in is missing? It seems here at least they exceeded expectations by doing things slightly more than by half.
“All Night (I’ll Be Stuck In This Sodding Manhole)”
I’ll admit I’m not the world’s biggest tennis fan, but surely you’re being a bit harsh on Henman there, Rosie? You don’t get awarded a fourth-place world ranking just for being a nice guy. And he never made a Wimbledon final but came up against the greatest grass-court player of his era in three semis and an inspired Ivanisevic with a following wind in another.
Waldo, I nearly spat out my lunch when I read your bit about Ivanovic sitting on Murray’s face. Wonder how far his bro got with Jankovic last year?! (Incidentally, as he was seeded 12th, doesn’t a quarter-final mean he’s exceeded his seeding?)
(Re Erithian aside: indeed. Murray was technically seeded to lose against Gasquet.)
We should talk some more about the Barron Knights’ “version”, which was a playground favourite in my youth. However Spoiler Bunny sez a discussion of ‘Live In Trouble’ is best left until the next entry, and who am I to argue?
We should
talk some more aboutburn the Barron Knights’ “version”There, fixed.
From your iPod onto a CD? For me? Cheers, MC!
I don’t have an iPod, nor will I ever have one.
Have you ever been in a chip shop in Walthamstow?
As often as I’ve been on mountains in Mexico.
Not as tasty.