Before reality TV commodified the rags-to-brief-riches pop story, the charts threw out an organic example or two. Here’s one: a bathroom salesman from Buckinghamshire with a bedroom studio, his song riding a remix to fleeting glory. Within a few months of hitting number one, Tony Di Bart was shorthand for facelessness – as the stars fell into eclipse, would pop be taken over by herds of such worthy, ordinary try-hards?
But rather than a sign of ill-health, “The Real Thing” may just have been the charts working smoothly – a brokerage for clashing networks. When people talk about “fragmentation” – which they did in the 90s, though not quite as much as now – what they’re diagnosing isn’t the eternal separation of tastes: people like different stuff, surprise! It’s more a fragmentation of distribution, scenes building knowledge systems which bypassed one another. Radio 1 (itself in shock from listener bleed as it abandoned its cross-generational mission); commercial radio; the University and indie circuit; mainstream clubland and a mess of party undergrounds.
These overlapping systems have always been with us too, so I think “fragmentation” is what it feels like when their hierarchy is upset and shifting, which it certainly was in the early 90s. If you don’t understand the channels through which things become popular, their popularity might start seeming random, threatening almost.
And so, Tony Di Bart, who I wasn’t threatened by exactly but who certainly seemed random. I was quite unattuned to the places where this record had built a following, and I couldn’t imagine what anyone heard in it. Has time made things easier? The backing – “anthemic”, “pumping” and so forth – has had a rougher ride of it than Di Bart’s spooked, slightly murmured vocal. In fact, the vocal uses the confident production like a cheap cologne and a shiny suit, something to cover up how nervous and unsure its trailing-off platitudes are. There’s a vulnerability to “The Real Thing” which isn’t necessarily sympathetic – in the end, Di Bart sounds too wimpy, and his lines too rote, for me to really care about him. But it seems to me that this relative weakness and diffidence is also what let “The Real Thing” cut through and give the guy his hit.
Score: 4
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Note also the telltale sign of the club-born hit – huge title, tiny artist on the sleeve (and bonus second title to further jog the memory). We will see plenty more of this.
The ‘Eurodancey menace’ of the bit where the beat first comes in is probably the highlight. But then Tony comes in.
Weak, basically. Not the worst no 1 of the year, or even close to it, and not without a certain, even rather fey, appeal. Not horrible, not even generic, exactly. And unlike so many club hits yet to be considered here, at least it wasn’t hyped to the top (and is better than at least some of them, too) But still…..not no 1 material, really. An abundance of negatives, basically, although the wimpiness- or if you prefer, poignant melancholicity of tone reminds me of nothing more than some of those brass band’s covers of acid house classics that greeting the opening of Tate Modern a few years later. Probably it is that sense of space – and of something approaching incipient despair on what should be a happy place, the dancefloor – that is the most appealing aspect of this track. That, and the “If I can’t have you” haunting hook….
If I carry on like this I will saying this is house music as imagined by Morrissey…
Much, much better than “Everything Changes” anyway. I’d give it a 5, maybe even pushing a 6. A very weird no 1, still
Whenever I hear this I think of a simple yet cutting remark from Dave Pearce’s Radio 1 ‘Dance Anthems’ show around 2005, this song played and a guest DJ (I forget which) recalls Mr Di Bart with the words “He was a great dancer! Horrible man, though.” Followed by a slight awkward silence. Unsettling.
Comment 3 sums up the whole thing, a nice listen but nothing incredible. For me it’s an example of something quite rare this early, a dance #1 that *isn’t* one of the best dance hits of the year. Pump Up The Volume, Theme From S’Express, Ride On Time, 3am Eternal, Rhythm Is A Dancer, No Limit, Mr Vain yes yes yes to all. This? God no. But there’s one coming later on in the year…
So what’s the relationship between this and Yvonne Elliman? Did he have to pay the Gibbs any royalties?
Wait, do people really not talk about “fragmentation” any more? Is that just because it’s so obvious and pervasive in the age of the Internet that it’s not worth mentioning?
Oh, right, the song. I had assumed*, since every dance #1 we’ve met has been pretty much In The Canon, that this was the same, and was looking forward to it being revered as a universally-loved classic; apparently not, however. It is, as you say, rather weedy, Tone offering up a less than beefy vocal, and the bustling production still sounds as if it’s majorly missing an element, something which would give it actual pizazz and oomph and all that. A slightly higher 4 than Take That but that’s all I can really stretch to.
Tony Di Bart is a much better nom de dance than Calvin Harris though, so the past wins on at least one count.
*obviously since I had just turned one when this hit the top I’ve never actually heard it before
it’s hard to get worked up about this, one way or another – the rhythms sound formulaic, the melody derivative and the vocal tentative – I’ve listened to it two or three times and I still can’t remember it
Well, I liked it.. 7
I had to check it on Youtube, and played it to the end so that counts for summat. I saw also he did a version of George Benson’s “Turn your love around” but it sounded exactly like this track, which is probably why he stopped having hits. The temptation to not alter the formula in any way. Damned if you do, etc.
Re the Bee Gees, I wonder if the Pastels had the same issue with “Million Tears”…
From a straw poll of fellow music writers and office colleagues I took a few years ago, I am reassuringly not alone in drawing a near-complete mental blank when it comes to remembering this record. I remember it being in the charts, if not necessarily at number one, and for the last eighteen years I have even owned a copy – it is track five on disc one of the 2CD Dino label compilation Dance Massive (“40 Huge Great Hits Of The 90’s (sic),” two of which were hits in the eighties) – yet I could not recall the record at all without prompting.
Listening to it again for the first time in nearly two decades, it was clear why its memory has proved so elusive – the record is so light and practically not there that it was easy for it to float away from the banks of common memory. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. Tony di Bart came from Maidenhead, and “The Real Thing” was his moment; over an expansive but subdued post-House beat his very feminine vocal and the surprising politeness with which he asks for love (“Girl it’s got to be you/Oh, I need the real thing” is almost the equivalent of Oliver Twist asking for more) remind me of pre-Beatles idols like Mark Wynter and Jess Conrad; he seems in a way embarrassed to raise his voice above the music’s tempo – his three-note arch of “ooh” in the couplet “But when you touch me there/Ooh, you get me reelin’” is rather endearing in its naïvete.
It was a big club hit, but the beats are not forward thrusting, frequently drop out for beat-free clouds of synths and distant female backing vocals, looking forward in its own unwitting way to the quieter trends in ‘90s dance music which would be heralded by Robert Miles’ “Children” a couple of years hence. There is the ghost of Freeez in di Bart’s anguished “Come on stay tonight/Come on soothe my mind, oh honey” – not to mention an elusively palpable chorus lifted lyrically from Yvonne Elliman’s “If I Can’t Have You” – but also in its blinking eagerness the antecedent to Daniel Bedingfield. Its substance is not quite palpable, but it is more substantial than my memory was expecting.
First number one since Belfast Child that I couldn’t at least hum a few bars of before going to Youtube (and the last until, maybe, 1998 looking at the list).
So having just listened to it, I was surprised that I recognised it almost immediately from the opening lines. It’s OK I suppose but Tony is not really selling it much is he? He’s not exactly setting the world alight with his vocal and I feel like this would probably have been better done by an anonymous Euro-disco diva. We’re going to get plenty of those coming up though, I guess.
But then, am I missing the point? The clipped vocal could just be a shy English bloke, trying to get his point across to the object of his affections. Maybe it wouldn’t stand up to a (presumed) gender change and a proper belting out. I’d like to find out though, especially as most of the quieter stuff from the late 90s Punctum refers to in his final paragraph leaves me a bit cold.
Tiny little man with gelled hair, fitting a toilet, singing sadly to himself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of Tony, but that’s how I imagined him when I heard The Real Thing – which wasn’t very often.
Wasn’t this on some tiny dance indie, like a proto All Around The World?
“Weedy” was the general opinion among friends at the time. It encouraged feeble-voiced impressions. I get the idea that Tony was pleased with the “A-come on steh tonah-aht” line, which makes him sound like a real singer rather than a real plumber but, sweet Jesus, he’s not going to win any girl over with such a weak and melancholy voice.
Here’s an interview with TdB where he seems nervous, dull, and still refers to himself in the third person twice – that’ll explain his rapid rise and fall. I like the line about bathroom “design”.
And yet, his performance is quite charming in its own wimpy, ghostly way – a more confident vocal would have made the record much more unremarkable. Minor chords are always going to give a song a headstart for me, too.
Re 4: I agree, it’s a forebear of middling, faceless dance number ones. Not looking ahead (because I like surprises), I imagine they become more prevalent in the very near future, but certainly Tone doesn’t have the shock value facelessness of Steve ‘Silk’ Hurley.
Re 6: I think people talk about fragmentation more than ever.
The link to that Tony Di Bart interview:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikCAbn4t8j8
This is the first song that I came across being played in different versions (I was twelve). I knew the one mix from Top Of The Pops, but then on the radio, possibly Atlantic 252, the song came on and it was full of all these saxophones. I could not understand what had happened to it.
Good piece Tom though over-charitable towards a staggeringly mediocre record.
I think fragmentation became more obvious around this time partly down to Bannister’s line in the sand but more due to the fall-off in singles sales and the first week focus in marketing them. When the high chart positions no longer gave any sort of assurance as to quality or crossover appeal people stopped listening/watching and were less exposed to “other” music. I remember some girl on Radio 5’s Pop Call the year before flunking a question on Depeche Mode’s In My Room and scornfully responding “Who listens to Depeche Mode !?” A decade earlier she’d have at least known “Just Can’t Get Enough”.
Like most here, I can’t call this to mind readily. No YouTube at work, so I’ll comment later.
I remember going to the Radio 1 Roadshow when it came to Bristol on the first May Bank Holiday of ’94. This record had just reached Number One and Tony Di Bart came on and mimed to it. He danced half heartedly, but looked scared, almost apologetic to be there. I turned round to my friends and remarked ‘he’s Number One – he might as well look as if he’s enjoying himself! This probably won’t ever happen again for him!’ I heard voices around me expressing similar sentiments more forcefully. By the time East 17 came on as ‘headliners’ most people had already forgotten about him.
I liked this! But then I liked pretty much everything on Energy Rush: Xtermin8 (especially J ‘Rex The Dog’ X).
JX! They/he was good.
#6 and #12 – I’m saying people talked about it less then than now! But they did talk about it.
(2011 – and 2012 too but actually a bit less so – had the least ‘fragmented’ chartscape since Merseybeat)
This is the first number one since I started paying proper attention to the charts (probably around 1980, aged seven) of which I had no memory at all. Not just that I couldn’t hum it; I didn’t know it existed. But maybe I was a bit distracted at the time by (a) glandular fever and (b) my university finals, and by the time I surfaced again it had slipped away.
Having given it a YouTube spin, I don’t find it actively offensive or anything, but to echo others above, it’s just so inconsequential that I’m puzzled enough people would love it sufficiently to send it to number one.
How interesting, incidentally, that Tony Di Bart should have become the epitome of facelessness when he actually sung on his own dance hit.
#18: as Kat says, JX aka Jake Williams later morphed into Rex the Dog.
Yes, I was delighted when I found that out! I just didn’t know whether JX was a he or a they (one of whom became RTD)
“There’s Nothing I Won’t Do” is probably my favourite superclub-era dance hit.
The other great where-are-they-now of nineties Brit dance hits was Kicks Like A Mule, who had a hit with “The Bouncer.” As Richard Russell, he is now managing director of XL Records and therefore the man who brought us Adele (yes I know but…).
#17: that compilation is basically my second term at Uni. I managed to completely miss the rise of Britpop (happening walking distance from my University) because I spent all my time in rubbish gay clubs.
This came as a bit of a shock to me. For the first time since I started reading “Popular”, this is a number one for which my initial response was “Uh? Never heard of it”. That fact made me late for work this morning, since it bothered me so much that I had to immediately go to YouTube to investigate, and eventually – once the chorus kicked in (if “kicked in” isn’t over-emphasising things slightly) – I realised that I had indeed heard it before, but not particularly frequently. My alarm clock/ radio had broken at this point in my student years (probably from being thumped or knocked over one too many times, I suspect) and I’d replaced it with a cheap wind-up clanging, clattering alarm, all of which had impacted on my time spent listening to daytime Radio One. On top of that, I didn’t have a television at this point so “Top Of the Pops” and “The Chart Show” were no longer reference points – I have to wonder if this is going to impact on my knowledge of any other number ones in the coming few months.
Still, even at this point in history number ones were supposed to be ubiquitous for at least a week or so, played in pubs and bars, shopping centres and mainstream club nights, and this one definitely didn’t come on my radar very often. I don’t dislike it, and actually have a sneaking admiration for how despondent sounding and subtle it is. It sounds like an accidental hit. The chorus gently seeps into the song rather than sledgehammering you with its presence, and whilst it is most definitely a pop record, it’s not pop with a capital “P”. It’s brooding and minor key, almost as if some trip-hop influences have crept into what is otherwise largely a straightforward pop-dance record.
I can see how its inability to immediately grab a listener’s attention would be perceived as a weakness, though. The fact that it never really registered enough with me so that I’d actually remember the artist, title or indeed anything bar the chorus of the single years down the line does also prove that it’s an incredibly flawed piece of work, and not one I can imagine I’ll put on to my iPod even now I have reacquainted myself with it. In fact, in the time I’ve spent writing this I’ve already forgotten how most of it goes…
Numero dos watch: A Manual-ish occurrence of great band name with ‘provocative’ song title and a generous amount of airplay took Crash Test Dummies to #2 with the deliberately dreary one that went “muh-nah muh-NAH” (or something). Probably more interesting to write about than The Real Thing tho. Two one-hit wonders in the top 2 for one week at least (probably more common than I’m thinking).
Crash Test Dummies are still out there touring and recording new music apparently. I say, apparently. I got this info 3rd hand from a friend who has a Canadian sister in law. She supposedly saw them in a bar not that long ago, complete with merchandise stall at the back of the venue.
Not a one hit wonder! Tony returned to the charts – it sez here – with a #21 hit “Do It”. His next single was “Why Did Ya” – make up your mind, man.
#13: That’s probably because the version the did hit #1 was a remix. “The Real Thing” was first released in November 1993, but only hit #83.
As for the song itself, like many here, I had forgotten about for a few years. Except that, for some reason, from two years ago on, it somehow managed to find its way back to my cerebral cortex. It’s a perfectly serviceable piece of what later became known as a Cream Anthem, except, as stated, Tony’s vocal is as unassuming as they come – but the rest is certainly there: the slight prog-house stylings, the occasional dreamy vocals (courtesy of the barely-there-and-not-even-half-interested female choir) and the almost bassless kickdrums.
In many ways, it’s strange how such a meek record (more courtesy of Tony’s already much discussed flat vocal performance than anything else) could, in Popular‘s narrative, signal the effective arrival of one of the biggest side-trends to the (very) forthcoming Britpop era: the superclub hit. More baffling even is how not many of those records will trouble Popular from hereon.
#28 I remember ‘Do It’, just about (as well as the two other CTD top 40 hits), but OHWs for me are more about the gap in success between an artist’s biggest hit and second biggest – and these acts not cracking the top 20 with their follow ups to such strong debuts means they pass my clearly rigorous and watertight qualification processes.
As an aside to my own comment at #30, it’s not as if Britpop itself will trouble Popular that much either.
# 26 “Mmm Mmm Mmm” actually fell to number four the week DiBart reached number one – that would have been more frustrating than Prince blocking it. Good to hear they’re still going – after buying three of their albums I finally accepted that “Mmm…” was a bit of a fluke and that voice over a dozen tracks is a bit wearing. Their best other song was the cover of XTC’s “Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” , a minor hit in 1995.
Son of Dave – the harmonica player/beat boxer/singer (thanks in part to loop pedals) is a former member of the Crash Test Dummies.
I only really remember The Real Thing due the fact it was number 1 when I finished High School.
Well after careful listening and watching the YouTube video, I can fully understand how this one slips in and out of consciousness so quickly. The notion that the flat vocal makes “The Real Thing” so forgettable is only partly to blame. I would suggest there’s a lack of a pumping bassline to underpin all that synth-cappuccino froth. And yes, when that first piano chord struck, I was like “Oh it’s this one!”. I must own at least 2 compilations with it on, but it’s a skipper isn’t it?
As I say above, it took a brief youtube to bring it back to mind, thanks to it’s ubiquitous titles..
However, when I try to re-recall it, it keeps segueing into ‘You’re the best thing’ D-Ream, so….
#36 well, that’s refreshing. I thought it was just me, but no “if I can’t have you, u r the best thing”. EVERY time.
Two things about this record concerned me at the time. Firstly, the threat of it becoming a no.1 seemed to have gone – and then it did become number one. 13-6-3-3-1. Watching the charts avidly since 1978, this was the first record to go 3-3-1.
But, why should I care? Why “the threat” not “the promise”?
That’s the second point. Wanting number ones to either be astonishingly good, or to fit with the Rules of Consumer Behaviour as exemplified by chart runs – or preferably both. This failed on the first count too.
Now, I’m no musicologist, but this is not astonishingly good. At the time it seemed to lack distinguishing features. As such, the “if I can’t have you” refrain seemed under employed. The lyric is utterly banal, the vocal weedy, the music – a sense of having heard it all before. Bad back then, and has worsened a little with age.
I did a lyrics quiz (on paper) for work colleagues in the 90s. Every number one since 1978 was featured, one extract from each lyric. I explained the absence of Doop, Jack Your Body and any other largely-instrumental hits (don’t remember any, not looking it up). I struggled to pick anything out of this one that anyone might recognise, and when I finally did it was the only record no-one remembered / guessed / worked out.
This is a great record, youse are all idiots. I’m genuinely amazed at all the claims not to remember a note – the chorus is one big hook, and there are others – it’s certainly a lot more memorable than Everything Changes. I get the point about Tony’s meekness, but a stronger vocal would’ve made this a completely different type of record. We’d’ve been into male diva vocal house territory, not superclub land (good genre spot, that). I’m not at all sure it’d’ve made for a better record.
I enjoyed the video too, Tony jigging about self-consciously in Fuenteventura or somewhere, while the camera pursues a pleasingly elfin young thing. It’s all quintessential post-rave-post-balearica. Which is all good stuff imo and not necessarily in need of elevation – though this clip is elevated by virtue of Tony’s fine multilayered ultrabaggy red outfit, like a more splendid version of the girl’s tracksuit in SL2’s On A Ragga Tip.
Anyway I hope Tony’s found it a lucrative endeavour. Finding out that Marion still pull in four grand a year from their non-career, I feel like those who’ve laid down even minor milestones for their era should get much greater reward.
Can we sound the Baby Jump klaxon on Toni di Bart? Or is it is just people of a certain age who have no memory of The Real Thing?
I’d suggest it’s the most obscure no.1 of the decade so far (now close to halfway through) and have been looking forward to its appearance on Popular for that reason alone.
#39. yes, I concur it is literally the most “obscure” chart topper of the decade to this point in Popular, and I would demonstrate the stroboscope (if-you-don’t-look-hard-enough-you’ll-miss-it) effect thus: (bear with)
If one were to look at historical singles charts, missing alternate weeks, and focusing intently on the Top 2 positions, this would be the first chart-topping record of the 90s that might escape one’s attention (there would be a 50% chance one would see it – whereas one would be guaranteed to see every other chart topper – if not in its prime then at no.2 as it advanced to or retreated from the top spot). Indeed, this would be the first since 1983’s “Candy Girl” by New Edition that might be missed in this way.
Like Down Down in 1975, and The Model in 1982 (but that was because chart compilation schedules forced a strange 2-3-1-4-5 run, not because it spent a solitary week in the Top 2).
Re 40. A fascinating observation. I have run with it, and did some quick research from my notes to see how frequent this situation is. (the issue with “The Model” does happen on one other occasion) If you will indulge me, this is on the whole about records that make No1 for 1 week and spend no time at No2.
So, it happened 6 times in the 60s, twice in the 70s, twice in the 80s, 39 times in the 90s (all but Tony in the 95-99 years), 69 times in the 2000s, and 35 times so far in the 2010s.
Whilst looking this up I hoped the results would mirror the 12 years 1996-2007 where the number of entries in the charts rocketed* and didn’t calm down again until after the download rule changes in 2007. It starts of well with the numbers increasing during the second half of the 90s, but they never really fall back again. Apart from a brief lull in 2007/8 where there is just once instance, it averages about 10 a year. Acts like McFly, Oasis, U2, JLS all helped the cause on more than one occasion. There is a bit of a theme; they all have a strong fanbase, but it’s not by any means an exclusive club, eg. Coverdrive, DJ Fresh, Perry, Brown, Mental, Am, Yo, Mix, Fenty, Harris, 1D, and the Collective all contributed last year.
In some instances it does say “it’s not that good, but you have fans and your last single did well” A top 10 career,1-5-out, three weeks later everyone but the record company are denying it even went to No1! Equally it can say “the week after you hit No1 there were entries at No1 and No2 but you can still have a long life in the top 10. 1-4-5-6-6-6-7-7-7-7-7-(Rudimental) and people will remember the track.
To conclude, when the volume of new entries increased in 1996, the number of high new entries also increased and it was far more likely that you could have one week at the top and no weeks at No2. In 2007 when the turnover returned to normal the number of high new entries was maintained and therefor the frequency of the brief No1 remains high.
Witchita – although I can’t pretend not to know The Real Thing, it is “Baby Jump”. I think it will face a bit of competition for the most obscure No1 as we move through the 90s.
*see Tom’s notes under “The Strange Death of the UK Charts”
Thanks Speedwell for the further research and insight.
And for NOT pointing out my daft error – I overlooked FGTH’s “The Power Of Love” didn’t I? Nudged out by new entries at 1 and 2. I didn’t overlook Sad Sweet Dreamer, I just didn’t mention it!
Another way of stating the case about The Real Thing would be to say that if one employs the method of ranking in the GRR / Guinness book UK Top 1000 singles* then Tony Di Bart would be the lowest ranked no.1 single of the 90s so far. But I stress, that is another way of saying the same thing, not an alternative perspective.
I also note that all the instances in the 60s occurred before the “common chart era”. (Didn’t they?)
And, oh, oh, oh – what’s the other example that’s like The Model? Should I know? Can I have a clue?
* This is a book that I look at so rarely that I can’t find it, nor can I be sure I am giving it its correct title. That is a shame because I rather like it, stark simplicity and all. I hope it hasn’t made its way to the charity bag!
Diff tack: Here is a title that is the same as another act that had a number one
Tony Di Bart -> The Real Thing -> You To Me Are Everything
Are there any longer such chains?
Nothing found so far … very few number ones have also been the name of a chart act (apart from eponymous numbers of course). The only three I’ve found so far are ‘Free’ , ‘Heart’ and ‘Hello’ with near-misses for ‘The Reflex’ and ‘Frankie.’
#38:
This is a great record, youse are all idiots.
Two points:
1. Why did you have to start an otherwise interesting post in such a confrontational (and, I have to point out, ungrammatical) manner?
2. Care to tell us what you’re really upset about?
1. to make us read it? (like we wouldn’t..)
2. Some of us said we liked it.
Re whether this is the most obscure number one of the decade so far. I nominate three other contenders:
1. Turtle Power (Partners in Kryme) – I could actually rap a fair bit of the first verse, but if you weren’t a fan of the Turtles I imagine you wouldn’t remember this at all.
2. Healing Hands (Elton John) – The flipside of Sacrifice, which I for one certainly couldn’t hum and may never have heard. But technically a number 1 song.
3. Game Boy (KWS) – Another alleged double A side, I have definitely never heard this and was surprised to find it listed – I thought Please Don’t Go was number 1 on its own. But according to Popular at least, it’s in the books.
‘Turtle Power’ was from the biggest toy/movie tie-in that year tho so surely memorable enough for many on that basis at least.
‘Healing Hands’ did actually have a video and ended up getting as much airtime as ‘Sacrifice’ towards the end of its chart reign, but fair to suggest it would never have done anywhere near as well on its own.
I’ve still never heard ‘Game Boy’ but do remember it listed as an AA at the time.
The first #1 I couldn’t tell you anything about as a song is still three years away I think.
Well, there’s always “Anitina” for impossible to remember ‘other’ double-A side hits. Conversely, there’s the ‘not often played but hear once and you remember it’ examples like “Girl School”, which ooh ooh another chart act linky!
“Dreams Of Children” is another one.