THE WURZELS - “Combine Harvester (Brand New Key)”
Much like “No Charge”, this wears an idea too thin: but at least it’s a good idea. Spotting the potential for Wurzelisation in the ramshackle whimsy of Melanie’s “Brand New Key” was a stroke of pop genius that deserved the reward of a No.1. “Combine Harvester” kicks off with surely the best (or maybe worst) innuendo to grace a chart-topping record and rides a wave of sheer goodwill until at least its third verse.
The Wurzels had only turned to this kind of pop adaptation because original Wurzel Adge Cutler had died - his original comic folk songs had made the band a West Country hit and with no songwriters to replace him, “Combine Harvester” was the beginning of a new and narrower remit for the band. Given a national stage, the bumbling yokel humour the group trade in as much reinforced stereotypes as mocked or indulged them, but that shouldn’t detract from the fact that “Combine Harvester” is one of the more thoroughly enjoyable comedy records we’ll be meeting.
I was aware of this song long before I heard it - as a young boy it was quoted at me by my Dad should I ever object to tidying my room. Since my room was rarely tidy, I became very familiar with the central notion of “No Charge”. Like my Dad, I can find immense amusement and pleasure in this style of song - talking country with a sentimental edge - but this is far from a great example.
“Fernando” is a breakthrough for ABBA, but a sly one. It’s different from anything else they’d tried - much more ambitious, with its long flowing melody lines in the verses and its lyrics about fighting in a liberation war in Central America. Before writing this I didn’t know that the song had been written for Frida’s solo record, which presumably allowed Benny and Bjorn to try something a little more unusual.
Do you know of anything artistic knocking around at the moment called P1? Maybe a novel, or a collection of poetry. A play, preferably a good one, or maybe one of the English National Opera’s experimental jobs at the Young Vic? Why? Well I kind of want, in a male collectorish manner - to collect a full set of P1, P2, P3. And all I’m missing is P1.
I’ve argued before that there are no good songs about how lovely small children are: some counter-examples were raised in the comments box, but not many, and this surely wasn’t one of them. “Save Your Kisses For Me” is the kind of chirpy material that used to give Eurovision a bad name before the smirkers got hold of it: catchy, but too winsome to really enjoy. I’d point to it as a classic example of cynical Britain fobbing off any old rubbish on the song contest, except Brotherhood of Man actually won the thing. Especially heinous elements: the root-i-toot toy trumpet riff, the persistent triangle accompaniment, the “awwww” final chords after the twist. THE TWIST. Path to redemption: the opening irresistibly reminds me of “Mother’s Little Helper”.
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I get the strong impression that whoever wrote this came up with the line “I love to love but my baby just wants to dance” and then wrote a lyric around it - which is fine, it’s a great line, but it leaves Tina Charles in the position of having to sell a song around the idea of a boyfriend who never wants sex because he’s always out disco dancing. Maybe there are deeper issues, Tina. Just saying, like. 
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