10cc – "Dreadlock Holiday"

Following close and intense study, I can confirm that 10cc are the only act in this list in the running for the titles of both the best and the worst number ones ever. The reason for their decline is unclear. By 1978, 10cc were only half the band they used to be; Godley and Crème had left in 1976 to pursue their own paths, commencing with the testing but not unenjoyable triple concept album Consequences – not quite the British Escalator Over The Hill (not even in the same cosmos, let alone the same postcode), though it does contain some intermittently inspired verbal improvising from a sloshed and stoned Peter Cook – before diverting into videos, Proper Hits and Trevor Horn. The remaining duo of Stewart and Gouldman specialised in artful but rather studium-filled AoR, and a crucial element to 10cc’s music had been lost. However, this was the same duo responsible for “I’m Not In Love,” and there had been a history of other suspect tracks like “Oh, Effendi” from 1974’s Sheet Music, so “Dreadlock Holiday” is less easily explicable.

Let us attempt to bend over backwards to be completely fair to the song; it is highly possible that “Dreadlock Holiday” is a barbed commentary on the endemic ignorance of cultural tourism (note the possible double meaning of the album title Bloody Tourists) – the holidaymaker who’s come to Jamaica because he read about Marley in Harper’s and Queen’s, who immediately gets held up by four muggers for his silver chain and attempts to wriggle out of his predicament with cringe-inducing, well-meaning but dumb touristy quips (“I don’t like reggae – I LOVE it!”). He escapes back to his hotel swimming pool “sinking Pina Colada” and encounters a woman prepared to give him “something hotter,” prompting the ejaculatory exclamation “Don’t like Jamaica – I LOVE her!” – the idea presumably being that our accidental tourist can only abide the surface glamour and not the coldly rationalist reality (“Don’t you walk through my words, ‘cos you ain’t heard me out yet”), so the scenario isn’t that far from the Pistols’ “cheap holidays in other people’s misery.” Also, the marimbas and distant, Coke can popping open organ ripples are a remarkable precursor of what, through Alex Sadkin’s work with Grace Jones and others in the early ‘80s, would briefly become pop’s lingua franca.

None of this hides the essential ghastliness of concept and execution of “Dreadlock Holiday,” which in attempting to be well-meaning and sardonic actually comes across as hugely patronising (“I saw four faces, one mad, a brother from the gutter”) and finally contemptible – the unlistenable cod-Jamaican accents and patois which Stewart and Gouldman adopt throughout the song. Bearing in mind that we are now less than a year away from discussing *** ******, “Dreadlock Holiday” could be presumed a premonition of other trends to come. But that Economy Size Wrigley’s Spearmint Gum-package carrying trio, even at their most absurd, at least made a game and serious attempt to grapple with and develop the elements which influence their music, while the 2-Tone movement, which would also explode into public view in the following year, would end up making things like “Dreadlock Holiday” – in the year of Steel Pulse, the Anti-Nazi League and Rock Against Racism – instantly antiquated and crass. Apart from a minor hit with an acoustic reworking of “I’m Not In Love” in the ‘90s, “Dreadlock Holiday” was to be 10cc’s last British hit single, and an unfortunate end to a generally remarkable chart career.

At least it doesn’t make a Jamaica joke, which to be fair would have fit in with the rest of the sorry tale. Always liked the tune as a kid, but on obtaining a 10CC Best of (bundled with a Godley & Creme retro too) the failings of DH became overly clear. I think its quite a good example of how you can overstep a mark, both by trying to be too clever, and actually being not clever enough.

Isn’t she offering him “something harder”, to rhyme with “Pina Colada”? No matter. I zoned out on this when it was a hit, simply because it struck me as bloodless and smug, a cheap joke crassly executed, and a really, really poor approximation of reggae rhythms. It hasn’t aged well – apart from the aforementioned Destiny’s Child mash-up, which was quite good fun at the time (and which we can freely discuss at a much, much later date).

Mm, this is the one instance where I do approach the song as a guilty pleasure; I love the pop craft of it, while finding the narrative regrettably racist (though Marcello makes a valiant effort to show how it could be a well-meaning song, this is certainly not the impression that it’s ever left me with)

I’ve already learned two things from this thread that I didn’t know. I have always heard that line as “four faces, one matt”, which is admittedly worse! I’ve also always assumed that the woman who appears in the last verse made the narrator a sexual offer (a prostitute?), rather than marijuana, which seemed to be saying to me “these blacks may be muggers, but at least their birds are fit”. As twists in tales go, it seemed to add another layer of offensiveness.

The afterlife of this song has been surprisingly prolonged. In the early years of 20-20 cricket, I lived a mile away from Edgbaston and used to hear “I don’t like cricket!! I love it!!” blaring unbidden through the skies every time that somebody hit a six throughout summer days. Then I ill-advisedly went to an eighties disco and saw a lot of undergraduates respond to this with delighted recognition a couple of years ago.

You’ve got the date wrong, I note pedantically.

I always heard it as “four faces, one man” and assumed that the fellow in question was there with three women, which still makes a sort of sense, to me.

Not going to get embroiled in the politics of it. As a song I like it, at least a 6, possibly a 7 from me. It’s an enjoyable, summery song as far as I’m concerned, and well-executed with it. I’ll leave the exegesis to others and I’m refusing to be outraged by it.

Sometimes the commentary feels a little like those politicians who conveniently decided that The Satanic Verses was unreadable (it isn’t.)

Ah, well, Marcello, we’ll talk about it some more when we get to the station 😉

So was there any real controversy or objection to this song at the time in the press, or among DJs voicing opinion on air?

I am intrigued by the contrast between pleasant music (it may sound bloodless but from a tehnical pov it seems to tick all the basic boxes) and unpleasant sentiment/context here. I wonder if we will have other examples of this to come on Popular that seem quite so stark.

I wonder if you could defend ‘Dreadlock Holiday’ as being a work of magical realism?

It would, at the very least, explain the hydra-headed mugger.

my raw memory of the chronology of these times is distressing unreliable, but surely by this point in 78, virgin frontline had hired j.rotten as its reggae ambassador and ferried him off, with viv goldman from sounds to document and promote, to jamaica itself to meet some of his heroes, and make (good) decisions who they should release LPs by? (there was a lovely sounds feature competely with pasty lydon disporting himself happily on the beach: this was NOT tourism, one-and-all concluded, bcz of his role making good reggae available to the world) (i’m not being remotely sarky either — lydon is someone i have a LOT of time for)

chris salewicz — another well-informed commentator — had run a two-part piece in nme on the reggae greats

so in the rock press a line was certainly being drawn between the cognoscenti who “got” dread; and useless lightweights who were faking it (not necessarily a reliable line — haha i know which side i would have placed myself on emotionally; i was rather patronising towards my college chum P when he became a big reggae fan 18 months later, even tho — with hindsight — he totally put the legwork in and bought and listened to a TON of records, whereas i as so often contented myself with having read about it all beforehand)

in fact i think the 10cc split had very much already left the ones stuck with the name the moral losers — for a triple concept LP, consequences got an unusually concerted attempt at fair judgement from punk know-it-alls (=me) (and even peelie ircc); and i think the “other two” def didn’t get any kind of benefit of the doubt pointed their way… there were Important Battles to be Fought and they were useful as an Awful Moral Example in all kinds of ways

(i have to say i look back on my year-zero self with a mix of pride — so spunky and determined to CHANGE THE WORLD! — and horror — so incredibly ignorant!)

i think vinylscot is correct that there was no fuss to speak of in the World of Grown-up Papers and Radio (let alone TV), which (quite apart from being apolitical in the terms we’re discussing) was fairly passive towards pop back then — i wasn’t in london yet so i can’t answer for the relics of the bohemian press (time out still in 68er agit-prop mode; the one i’ve never seen copies of, penman loved it — was it called “in the city”?), but i would be startled if they hadn’t copped attitude; and yes, the rock press were by now largely parti-pris and pro a strictly-roots take on reggae — melody maker a lot slower on the uptake as ever in those days

Alan, I did say “most”. Certainly not all, but do you really think DLT, Noel Edmonds and the like spent much time actually listening to music?

sure, maybe they didn’t care AND they they didn’t consider the lyrics. but i’m disputing the connection from one to the other in general. both that you would only consider the lyrics if you cared for the music, or that you couldn’t both care and not consider the lyrics.

Another vote for “one mad” here. I like the tune, wince at the execution – like many above.

10cc are playing the Mick Jagger Centre, five mins walk from my house, in October. Well, I SAY 10cc; the flyer makes pointed mention of Graham Gouldman and no one else. Anyway, I thought I might as well pop along, until I looked at the damage – 30 quid!

no i’m not actually marcello — CL didn’t exist yet, and there was a london-only rock-and-listings paper which has got lost in history’s shuffle (the only “name” writer i can half-think of who had cachet was called iestyn something; i’ve never read a word by him, but penman and savage BOTH rate him/her) (even if not each other!)

(if i wasn’t at work i could look it up)

Iestyn George maybe?

Presumably this was a different Street Life from the excellent and sadly shortlived national music paper bearing the same name, which ran a superb extended feature on dub reggae in, ooh, I’m guessing early 1976?

haha ok i think it turns out i may mean “london-only” in the specialist technical sense of “impossible to find in shrewsbury”, mike — i imagine that IS the one i mean, but i never saw a copy and only know it by repute (did it close bcz it didn’t achieve the countrywide distribution it needed?)

Say what you like about dodgy lyrics or musical quality, they guaranteed themselves a play at every single Australian BBQ for the next 20 years, quite the feat in itself…

Is it really racist? It’s just a song about a gormless prick who goes on holiday and gets himself mugged wandering around the backstreets, isn’t it?

Maybe it was John Lydon who mugged 10cc – the mad face, a brother from the gutter etc. he was in Jamaica at the time, after all…

Their previous single was the creamy ballad People In Love, a blue-eyed soul/Macca confection which featured a spectacular bagpipe-guitar line that sounded HUGE on AM radio in ’77. It got plenty of airplay (anyone else remember it?) and sounded like a shoe-in for the Top 5 (well, if Good Morning Judge could make it…).

So maybe the abject failure of one of their loveliest songs led Stewart and Gouldman to roll up their sleeves and go “RIGHT….”

Dreadlock Holiday has always made me cringe. I always thought the final verse was about a prostitute. Bloody sex tourists.

I’m grateful to Marcello for his reasoned opinion on this. I personally was ready for a long-anticipated handbag-swatting session with him over this one. Instead I find myself nodding my head at parts of what he says. What must be added, though, is that anyone who would fain unfettered outrage at the tale this song is telling ought to get out more. I wonder how the same people might react to somebody like Aswad doing a pastiche about one of them wandering around Glyndebourne, getting robbed of his bling by” four faces” called Rupert, Giles, Mason and Marmaduke, nervously professing to his attackers a love for croquet and Mozart before “hurrying back to the tennis court” to sink glasses of Pimms with a girl called Annabelle, who offers to open her legs as a bonus. I’m pretty confident that there would not be a problem with this amongst the same critics. Quite the contrary, in fact.

And let me assure you, there certainly was not a problem with “Dreadlock Holiday” back in the day. Alas, Political Correctness has a mighty backward reach. Unless I am mistaken, it was voted “Best Single” at the embryonic British Rock and Pop Awards, now the Brits. Quite right too, as it was just sooo good. Pure class in a glass, for me, and it was very gratifying to see it just make the top either side of two long-staying chart toppers, both of which would have definitely seen it kept at bay as one of those truly tragic number twos (eg: “Jean Jenie”, ”Vienna”). This track has the mark of quality stamped all over it, as do the band performing it, and for me, at least, it is quite simply one of the best records of the decade.

Perhaps as an addendum, I might remind those in the thread who disagree with me on this of two popular tracks by London born and bred reggae artist Smiley Culture from 1984: “Cockney Translation” and particularly “Police Officer”. This second track is hilarious, Smiley jumping effortlessly between Jamaican patois and an exaggerated cockney dickhead accent to outline an exchange between himself and a copper who had stopped him in his car for possession. On eventually recognising him, the star-struck Plod lets Smiley go for the price of an autograph. This record is wonderfully funny and not offensive at all, as (on the other side of the coin) was much of the offerings from Judge Dread, who was enormously popular in Brixton and Stockwell but whom would no doubt raise a few eyebrows in this day and age from those who have a bee in their bonnets about DH thirty years after the event.

As for the “I don’t like cricket … I love it” I always thought there was a touch of coercion in between the two phrases, making our tourist even more of a wimp than maybe he really was.

Waldo – spot on there lad!

Even ignoring the pitfalls of PC, this piece of Graham Gouldman social commentary doesn’t REALLY hold a candle to Look Through Any Window, Bus Stop, or No Milk Today.