Chart Music: the Top Of The Pops Podcast - #63 (Pt 1): 28.12.1972 – Thank God For Belgian World In Action

Episode Date: December 25, 2021

Neil Kulkarni, Taylor Parkes and Al Needham frenziedly lay out the most spanglfierous buffet of Pop ever witnessed on Chart Music, as we go all the way back to late 1972 and the dawning of the Golden Age of our weekly Thursday Night Pop Treat. As they assemble a pyramid of Watneys Party Four and fill a paddling pool with Angel Delight, they learn that people were moaning about Top Of The Pops even then, examine the musical output of the Inner London Education Authority, have a flick through Melody Maker and – in the spirit of the season – Neil tenderly forgives Al for accusing him of liking Kiss in 1986…     Video Playlist | Subscribe | Facebook | Twitter | The Chart Music Wiki | Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Um... Chart music. Chart music. Oh, my God. Up! You pop-crazed youngsters, and welcome to a vaguely festive episode of Chart Music, the podcast that gets its hands right down the back of the settee on a random episode of Top of the Pops. I'm your host, Al Needham, and by my side today stan taylor parks hello yes and neil kulkarni i like that oh team atv land in the house the little kevin ginger joe

to my c mac if you will so yeah if you're listening to this before christmas i extend the heartiest of seasonal greetings and all that shit and if you're listening to it afterwards well thank fuck that shit's over with bollocks to christmas anyway boys pop things interesting things fill my stocking up with them right now if you please you know what there have been a couple of pop and interesting things in the past few months. Yes. I've done a couple of interviews with sort of heroes. Horace Panter, which was nice, did that for Bass Player magazine. Nice.

Had to think of some bass-related questions. That was lovely. And, oh, yeah, actually, when I spoke to Horace, Terry was sat nearby, and I'd never sort of spoken to Terry. I was really starstruck. And he got up and he sort of walked away because he knew that horace had to do his interview and i was just like you're right mate and he was like yeah you're right and that was that but that could have been a better moment granted but i have now spoken to terry hall which was lovely and um what else oh yeah and i spoke to uh dennis bevel um for the quieters

which was just magical i mean there was so much i didn't have time to do because i had about an hour with him um so i couldn't i couldn't speak to him about like fella cootie and i really wanted to speak about his work with him but man the 20 minutes in which he described exactly how he made silly games was one of my favourite interview experiences ever. He was wonderful. So those two things were nice. And I've also been going to some gigs since then. Bloody hell, Neil, you are a boy about time, aren't you?

I have been busy, haven't I? Since the grand reopening, I've been to a few. Went to see Little Sims in Brom, it was great. Went to see JLS. Fuck. At the Resorts World Arena, or the NEC as it should be called, really. JLS were fantastic, by the way. I mean, I was the only

and definitely the oldest bloke there, but there was a very revealing moment that kind of revealed the demographic for me, because I'm a bit shady about JLS. I don't really know much about them, although I do know that their name stands apparently for Jack the Lad Swing, which is pretty awful, isn't it?

But yeah, there was a revealing moment before the gig where the DJ, who was awful, played Let It Go from Frozen and the crowd went fucking nuts, which was quite revealing of the demographic. But it was a really good pop show. It avoided that terrible thing that pop bands sometimes do of having a live band to prove their chops, you know, it always degenerates. What were they supposed to let go, Neil?

Their bladders. It was weird. It was weird. But no live band, just everything played off a laptop, bone-crunchingly loud with a lot of hysteria. It was good. And then sort of just two nights ago, actually, went to Human League.

Whoa. Also in Brom. Altered images and support and unfortunately I missed them. I was going to go the full shimole and kind of get tarted up but a quick Google search revealed that Claire Grogan is entirely happily married, annoyingly.

I thought she might see me, you know, gyrating my hips in a sexy manner in the press row and perhaps, you know, send an emissary out to me with a billet to do to get me backstage but it wasn't to be. Pop stars, man, always, you know, send an emissary out to me with a billet to do to get me backstage. But it wasn't to be. Pop stars, man, always let you down, don't they? I did catch the tail end of Tom Bailey from the Thompson Twins.

Oh, dear. He still can't sing that Thompson twat. But I was really close to the side of the stage. I was on the side of the stage that Joanne was on. And I always fancied Joanne. And I swear to hell, there was eye contact. But they were great. stage um i was on the side of the stage that joanne was on and i always fancied joanne and i swear down there was eye contact um and but they were great they were absolutely brilliant um but i mean one of the things that phil raised on stage if you like that he mentioned was that he couldn't get around birmingham anymore and that's it's not a pop an interesting thing but if you'll allow me i just need a slight side

track i need catharsis about birmingham about their fucking road and traffic department um i now work four days a week in birmingham and regular listeners to chart music will know i'm a tolerant cove with very much a live and let live attitude. Definitely, yeah. Especially to my yim-yam brethren, like Taylor, for instance, who, despite being saddled with the comic sands of accents, they do live in England's second city, you know, and they should be rightly proud of the fact. But as a city right now, Brum is just not fit for purpose. My commute that used to be a brief and breezy 25-minute jaunt

from Cove to digberth has now transformed into just this hour-long shitmare of fury um where i find myself vacillating between homicidal suicidal genocidal rage and the terrible thing is it's making me into a racist it's no no you know which is no good, I find myself, seeing as I'm spending like eight hours a week stuck in Birmingham traffic, I just find myself really raging. And it's going beyond its righteous target of the kind of road planning department who are, after all, to blame. It's percolating now into just atrociously racist anti-yim-yam language in my car.

I just can't help it. You know, the other day i found myself just having appalling thoughts and putting appalling thoughts in the head of just innocent pedestrians and other drivers the other day i found myself looking at a guy who was looking at another guy digging a ditch um in a contraflow and just you know slipping into appalling racist language about yim yams just kind of i i drive around just say yeah well i don't actually have to speed this because i'm a brummie and i eat my own shit and i fuck my nan and all this atrocious terrible shit and i had to stop myself so i'd just like to apologize to my yim

yam brethren which of course includes taylor but yeah fuck you birmingham road and traffic department fuck you that poor bloke digging a ditch. His life used to be so much better when he was working at the car wash. How you been, Taylor? Well, you know, back in a familiar pattern, like frustration, lethargy, self-loathing, mild dyspepsia. To paraphrase Elvis Costello, every day I don't write the book

I'm a bit fed up because I had my booster in November and I read up on the stats that basically this makes you invulnerable to the Delta variant just frothing over with antibodies and I'm like yes

gave me a new lease of life I was back in the gym meeting friends taking the tube you know it was beautiful licking people's faces oh yeah I was optimistic I was upbeat live honestly you wouldn't have you wouldn't have recognized me um then after about a week of that I turned on the news and it said tonight's headlines guess what um it's time to go home on your own again and stay there wiping down packs of antibacterial wipes with an antibacterial wipe what a refreshing change i've forgotten how quietly great it is not to be under house arrest um and as a londoner you have to you know as a responsible londoner you have to take the

lead and say okay we're the first target for this new variant so we're the ones who have to curtail our activities first omicron came to nottingham first mate well you know it was curious it hurt so much yeah it's not good this isn't good for me that as lawrence olivier says in rebecca i have become boorish from living alone um and my christmas present shopping has been screwed right by something else i'm right i met this bloke who makes sculptures out of lollipop sticks you know like cathedrals and ships how's the parliament perfectly to scale uh and fashioned entirely out of lollipop sticks and glue so i commissioned him to make me a christmas present for someone i told him i want a sculpture of a lollipop stick and he said how big do you want it

i said three quarter scale he's fucking joker he said he couldn't do it. I was fuming. Fuming. What am I meant to get Amanda Holden now? Another clavichord. Still, there are a lot of exciting options for the new year, right? I made a list of them. Become the second person to invent the internal combustion engine. Try to restart World War I.

Form a band called Dead Heat. Nice. Write a letter to Mick Jagger and pin him down on whether the song Dancing with Mr D really was about Fred Dynage. Convince Gary Davis to let me ghost write his scandalous tell-all autobiography

working title camel unfiltered finally contrive an opportunity to say mr hollinshead if you didn't want your autopsy you shouldn't have died in the first place uh train imaginary animals to jump on and off some coloured boxes and or through the barrier into objective reality, starving and curious. And I mean, you know, if all else fails, they're doing 30% off the box set of Cannon and Ball series 11. Although I've heard bad things. Yeah, not their best. So before we get stuck into the selection box

that is this episode of Top of the Pops we're about to peruse, let's get the business stuff out the way. So first of all, massively soz for the interruption to your chart music service last month, but it couldn't be helped because one of us took badly with the spiteful armoured bollock. On the mend now, so everything's all right. But yeah, really sorry that we didn't do your chart music

earlier this month. That just hurts me, man. Secondly, you might have heard that Great Big Owl, who we've been rolling deep with for the past few years, is winding up. And, you know, people were fretting about that and got into it. And I just want to say that, don't you worry. We're already linking up with a new collective.

And to quote KRS-One, we will be fresh for 22, you suckers. That's lovely to hear. Nothing can stop us. You can't stop chart music nobody can stop chart music before we move on notes and corrections uh because in the last episode rock expert david stubbs said that rumble in the jungle by the fujis was the only time that anyone has ever sampled abba which is bollocks because fucking hell loads of money doing up the house sampled money money money and we covered that in a fucking previous episode of chart music I mentioned that

was it an episode that David was on no he wasn't on that one but I was on it and I knew it and I didn't say anything so that makes me look a right cunt so I'm sorry that you found out that I'm a thick cunt pop crazy youngsters I would have you found out that I'm a thick cunt, Bob Crazy Youngsters. I would have corrected him, but I'd have a listen when other people are talking. Oh, yeah. Also, the Queen and I, by the Justified Ancients of Moomoo,

they sampled Dancing Queen. So there we go. There's another one. Wasn't that quite a big deal at the time? Yes, it was. Because it wasn't so much sampled as just play huge chunks of it and abba put the foot down and so they went off with someone from the enemy to present a gold disc to abba for sales rendered couldn't find them and so just gave it to a prostitute in stockholm which was nice yeah that's thoughtful also and probably more importantly i would like to make right now

a public apology to neil kulkarni for accusing him of liking kiss on twitter that's okay that's okay it's it's a bit of a hot button issue for me now because for those of us who don't use twitter on twitter an awful lot of people were sharing their sort of spotify look backs you know where you get where you get told of all the stuff you listen to and i just suggested that a better way of displaying your immaculate music taste was a you know an old rough book or an old exercise book where you'd scrawled loads of names on it and i showed a picture of my one from i think 1986 when i was about 13 now in tiny letters prince is there and also in tiny letters the word kiss is there which i genuinely

wrote down in 1986 because i just fucking loved that song um al um jump into conclusions oh you have to say accuse me of liking the band kiss. Just like to assure all pop craze youngsters, that will never, ever happen. It's an ongoing battle between me and Sophia, my youngest daughter, who's trying to convince me of the worth of Kiss via the song I was made for loving you. It's not going to happen.

I will never like Kiss. They're a fucking awful band. And whilst I'm here, and if Sophia is listening, priests are better than maiden, and one day you will learn. What are you going to do to stop her from trying to force a kiss upon you, Neil? I can't. You've got to put your foot down, mate.

Drastic action is needed. Next time she's got a parents' evening, go with kiss makeup on. Flicking your tongue out at the teacher while they're talking to you. You know what? I suspect she's just saying it to fucking wind me up. with kiss makeup on flicking your tongue out at the teacher while they're talking to you you know what i suspect she's just saying it to fucking wind me up she don't listen to her much with that sort of area she listens to new york dolls way more than she listens to kiss so um no there's not a lot i can do about it i think you know and then she you know because my little uh grandsons they love kiss as well um no well yeah she told me they're um oh god now you're asking they're

eight and ten now and um when we go for walks in the park um sophia whispers this in there it gramps hate kiss and they find branches and hit me with them um in an attempt to try and convert me but on this i stand as firm as the rock of Gibraltar. I cannot compromise on this. They're a fuck-awful band. So you're forgiven now. Don't worry about that. An easy misunderstanding, to be honest. Thank you, Neil.

That means a lot, man. So that's it, then. We're all cleared up with it. The slate is wiped clean and we can move on. But before we move on, you know what we've got to do. We've got to drop the knee and give thanks to the latest batch of pop craze youngsters who have jingled our g-string through the medium of patreon and in the five dollar section this month we have mick wright or maybe mike wright i'm not sure ron sims Ron Sims, Cole, Tim Turner, Paul Webb, James Harris, Chris Durbin, Mark, Carol Tennant, Will, Andrew Crudgington, Gareth Windybank, Jimmy Greaves, Dave Morris, Paul Stilwell, Eamon Kane, Colin Rooney, Andy Andy Barrett Andy McLeod

Helen Hookins and a Pacey back pass from Maurice Malpass Oh babies we fucking love you Yeah and cheers Jimmy Yes And in the $3 section we have Jamie Anderson, Matthew Kendrick

Rich Riddle, Jason Hoyle Sig Sigrun, Lee Villette, Gary Mulcahy, Lauren Shaw, Padraig Holmes, Joe Lathorn, and Martin James. Mwah! We love you, babies. And Don Whiskerando and Doug Grant, well, well, well. You shoved an extra handful down the G-string this month, didn't you? You get to come into the special room where we sit on your lap and whisper a dissertation about racy in your ears, you lucky boys.

Critical racy theory. And a special thanks to Tony, who's only gone and hit us all off with Christmas presents this year. Actual Christmas presents in boxes and shit. Good Lord. Can you believe that? Yeah, I'm sending them on to you in good time. So, Tony, that's over and above and away and beyond the call of duty.

And we are massively grateful. Thank you. Cheers, Tony. Thank you. Thank you. You know we're going to open them. It's just going to be like a boxing glove on a screen. So, yeah, as always, when we do a Christmas one,

this episode is dedicated to all the Pop Craze Patreons because they've kept us going through this miserable, pinch-faced cunt of a year, and we thank them forever and ever and ever and ever. And as well as getting this episode of Chart Music in full without adverts, the Pop Craze Patreons get to tamper and escamper, fiddle and a diddle, and rig and a jig and a reconfig, the all-new Christmas chart music top 10.

Here we go, chaps. Are you ready? Yes. Hit the fucking music. We've said goodbye to sharks, piss fire, oven-ready women, Taylor Parks' 20 romantic moments, and the continuity Westlife, which means non-up, five down, one non-mover and four

new entries. Down two places from number eight to number ten, Jeff Sex. Last week's number six, this week's number nine, rock expert David Stubbs!

First new entry this week comes straight in at number eight, Staircase of Cock. A two-place drop from number five to number seven, here comes Jism. Here comes Gizmo. No change for the second week running at number four for Bummer Dog. Last week's number one has finally dropped to number three. The bent cunts who aren't fucking real. It's a brand new entry straight in at number two. Skin heady heady. Which means... This week's number one

and the highest new entry and the chart music Christmas number one the popular orange vegetable oh what a chart pop craze youngsters that is a surprise that number one

as is the dropping of bent cunts who aren't fucking real. Oh, man, they had it in 2021, didn't they? Fucking hell. Their year. They'll be disappointed not to get the... They're like the House Martins with Caravan of Love. They just didn't quite make it. So, the popular orange vegetable.

Obviously a psych band, to my mind. You know, did a few festivals with Bummer Dog. So, the popular orange vegetable. Obviously a psych band to my mind. You know, did a few festivals with Bummer Dog. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Staircase of Cock, though. What are they saying? They sound a bit new metal to me. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, perhaps so.

Yeah. Papa Roach-like. Yes. Tyler the XXX privately educated. Well, that's modern Rammel, isn't it, that we needn't concern ourselves with. He's definitely got a tattoo somewhere. Possibly a tattoo of his own face on his face that fills his entire face.

So he's just like he's gone over with a pencil on some graph paper of a photo of himself. And he looks shit. And, of course, skin-heady-heady. They do fun sing-along cover versions of oi tunes don't they they could do a tour with oi division so

if you want in on the pulsatingly exciting lifestyle of the pop craze patreons as well as the ability to be able to sleep at night safe in the knowledge that you and you alone are keeping the world's greatest podcast where people wang on about old episode

of Top of the Pops for fucking ages going. You see that keyboard. You flex them fingers. You mash, mash, mash patreon.com slash chart music. Step up to that pay window. Pull the elastic of our g-string back and shove it down thank you

let us know it's christmas time so this episode pop craze youngsters takes us all the way back to december the 28th 1972 oh and you may have noticed just there it's not the usual christmas day special that we do at this time of year but yes it's another opportunity for the show ponies of pop to trot about in the winner's circle of that year and oh my fucking god this this fucking episode chaps i know it's fucking gargantuan isn't it oh yeah well for me this is without a shadow of a doubt i think the greatest episode we've ever covered um yes these sort of end of year roundup shows they usually sort of militate against thinking there was any kind of golden age ever because um you know habitually as listeners of the music of the past when thinking about the

quality of a musical era we kind of look at albums lists don't we yeah but that's not really the experience of pop which is really about what music we experience coming at us from a load of sources often from a load of sources we can't control you know passing cars clothes shops the radio the fifth form center stereo or whatever it might be gives you perhaps more true vision of pop and because these end the year shows are often seemingly random or at least entirely mercenary in their methodology of how they choose what records to play, we usually come out of these end-of-year shows

surmising that, yeah, you've got some gold, but they're also reminders of the more humdrum reality that, God, there was a load of shit out there too, no matter what the era. But this episode really does give you the impression or gave me the impression that 72 is something of a peak year something of a great high point

like 66 like 81 and I'd happily have 72 in there as a zenith too it's a fucking amazing episode of a fucking amazing year the year that me and Taylor were born in so it's bound to be amazing for pop oh yeah 1972 year that God and taylor were born in so it's bound to be amazing for pop oh yeah 1972

year that god made me thanks thanks man nice timing because it as great as 1972 appears to be here it's a bit of a drag being born in 1972 because from the moment you become aware your entire life is played out against a backdrop of decline you know like i mean the soon to come christmas everyone the soon to come oil crisis is one of the key events of the 20th century as it's basically the bridge between one era and another in terms of the economy and ultimately the the culture of the west you know And it may be partly our modern-day perception, but when you look at footage of Britain and British people from 1972,

it still looks like it should be soundtracked by swinging 60s library music, you know, or maybe something off Ziggy Stardust, you know. But you look at footage from 1975 or 1976, and even if it's showing kids playing hopscotch it everything looks like it should be soundtracked by the first few minutes of shine on you crazy diamond you know or black sabbath yeah yeah yeah 1972 carry on abroad 1976 carry on england that's not only is that a precipitous decline it tells you everything because the first

of those is the old world excited by and trying to embrace modernity and adventure and the other is the old world collapsing in on itself with nowhere left to go um and ending up with Patrick Moher so for 1972 births it's strange to look back on a life spent watching things disappear and worse things appear you know and of course there's obvious exceptions in terms of social attitudes and medicine and you know but in general we're at a disadvantage compared to older people who at least got a taste of an optimistic world and younger people who grew up in the current shit show and are used to things like society as combat and the state as a disruptive

rather than a steadying influence in their lives. And whereas we were raised in one world and then prepared for a cozy social democracy and then suddenly as adults prepared for a cozy social democracy and then suddenly as adults dumped into a totally different society for which we were not prepared which is why our whole generation is so weirdly obsessed with and simultaneously in love with and terrified of the lost details of our collective past this doesn't happen with other generations, right? There were no middle-aged blokes in 1972

doing six-hour podcasts about the 1920s. No, no, no. The thing about flagpole sitting, right? You know, people always get it wrong when they talk about sarsaparilla. It didn't happen. It didn't happen. They all had long hair at the sides and wore leather

jackets with a shirt and tie and got with the program you know whereas we are all essentially the baby in one of the best songs written around this time and about this time the end of the rainbow by richard and linda thompson yeah yeah yeah although probably no need to be quite that rude about our sisters i've been immersed in the early 70s lately because i've been on youtube watching videos of ilea tv which was a closed circuit television network for schools and colleges run by the inner london education authority from 1969 through most of the 70s, broadcasting in that very time-specific format of black-and-white videotape.

And I'm pleased and surprised to see that loads of it survives and is on YouTube. And the bulk of this output is precisely what you would expect from people who went to teacher training college in the late 1960s there's a lunchtime magazine program which opens with a discussion between a heavily bearded man in a tie and four student union presidents one of whom is wearing a razor blade around his neck on a chain which i wish he'd lent to the presenter because I really doubt he's got access to a regular supply of cocaine on the 1970s campus.

Although you would need some kind of stimulant to make it to the end of that discussion. But if you do, you're rewarded with an appearance from Trevor Phillips with a full head of hair. But it gets stranger the further in you go, right? There's a there's a program for the ladies called making the most of yourself the changing shape of women which is essentially a televisual finishing school presented as feminist self-empowerment

it's really weird there's a posh old lady called mrs mary young um who started classes in poise dress and personality for the ilea you know in the days when there was money to burn right in education even though her round puffed up hair looks like it should have one of the american gladiators inside it, like propelling her head into other people's heads. So Mrs. Mary Young, the Mrs. to prove that she hasn't been left on the shelf, introduces two of her students, Mrs. Parrish and Sandra. And then first she makes Sandra get up on a runway and walk backwards and forwards, side on, to show off her terrible posture. Now, Sandra is a is a flaxen haired hippie chick in sweater and flared jeans.

She walks back and forth with this sort of cute, slightly stoned drooping posture and frankly looks quite sexy and cool. looks quite sexy and cool but mrs mary young with absolute contempt says well now you see quite clearly why her mother was so keen for her to attend this class if sandra doesn't do something about her line she'll end up looking like a tired old lady before she's 30 and then she turns to mrs parish and says now let's have a look at mrs parish's needs and gets out a tape measure as is so here we are the biggest measurement around the curve of the seat you're not wearing a foundation garment are you hmm it's not quite spare rib but yeah you get a more traditional 70s vibe in the programs for younger children, right? You get curb drill from a man called Mr. Safety, whose appearance and manner does suggest his name may well prove bitterly ironic.

He's this slickly mustachioed Jason King slash Peter Sarset abomination with shifty, terrified eyes, wearing a silver spangly jumpsuit unzipped to the navel and latex gloves um and he sings this song that goes hey it's mr safety here when i'm around you've got nothing to fear the gentleman doth protest too much. And to the point where at one point he says, every day on the road, two children will be killed and 142 injured, and others will be burned in a fire or drowned. And you expect him to continue,

unless my demands are met. But wait, look, let me quote you this passage in full um lest you doubt that mr safety has the gift of the gab right he says now talking of animals has anyone been to africa they have a special code there and it says never run in front of a crocodile and they call it the green croc code did you like that total silence from the kids in the studio but seriously would you run in front of a crocodile i'm sure you wouldn't you see a crocodile if it ran over a car couldn't hurt it but a car could run over a crocodile and kill it and it could kill you too at which point he turns to the silent miserable kids and says now how many of you like playing with balls i think mr safety is probably dead now but unfortunately it didn't happen before his reggae song about the

green cross code but look look look look elsewhere music is the crowning glory of the ilea tv output because this is what's really great about it these clips from music alive their their music show which are genuinely great even if they could perhaps be accused of focusing more on what the staff think the kids should hear than what they actually want to hear a lot of this is from 1972 and yet the acts we see on this year's christmas top of the pops are conspicuous by their absence and instead we get the third ear band improvising in the studio. Whoa. Yeah, matching mole doing a 15-minute version of smoke rings. Fuck yeah.

Caution contains flashing images. A four-song acoustic solo set from Stormcock era Roy Harper who's clearly unwell and loads of mistakes and false starts left in and they introduced it with the phrase but we decided not to edit um all of this beamed out to the the brutal crumbling red brick schools of inner london in 1972 to give them a taste of fucking culture right white head style all these little thugs with bowl cuts and afros, like, glowering at the big telly rolled in on casters, right? Getting a maximum dose of the Canterbury sound.

It's like these ILEA kids, they don't need no education. They don't need no thought control. They need a slightly ragged jam session from the soft machine and veiled instructions to seize control of the means of production, as good working-class people should, while the producers of Music Alive are over here on the beanbags. Good luck, comrades. Coming up later on ILEA TV,

a salute to Eric Honecker, where to get the best red lab and how to stab a police horse in the bollocks with a knitting needle. It is weird being born in 72 because you're going to miss out on every subsequent supposed pop era in a sense. You're going to be too young really to, you know, be a punk or a post-punk or a new romantic. And then by the time you're old enough to perhaps feel part of something, you're so cynical that you could never be part of anything. So, you know, when rave and things like that

start happening in the 90s, which I suppose you could argue would be the next sort of epochal pop moment, you're too old to really feel part of it. So you really do fall in between the cracks if you're born in 72. Too young to be, yeah, part of things in the late 70s and early

80s i'm too old by the time things start getting exciting again yeah i remember when rave was but i was like 16 17 and it was like uh so what's this all about well you go and stand in a field with hundreds of random people and you just kind of lose your own personality and you all become one and it's like oh that sounds like literally the worst thing. Yeah, this is not what interested me at that age. No, I mean, ecstasy was a great drug, but it was kind of, yeah, an at-home thing for me. I didn't want to join in with a lot of other people by that age.

Yeah, well, anyway, fuck rave. We'll deal with that another day. Let's isolate on the music of 1972 because fucking hell, when I looked at this episode, the jaw swang open. It's just banger after banger after banger after banger and then a huge

crescendo at the end. I was just looking at this thinking we've got a very long day ahead of us. Yeah. We might have to do a really long episode this time. And the thing is, it's not just fantastic songs throughout this episode. It's amazing performances, just really unforgettable performances.

I mean, if you wanted to show the youth how insanely brilliant Top of the Pops, pop music, the 70s and our fucking lives could be, you sit them down in front of this episode and then you pity them for being born in the wrong century. It's that good. So, first question, chaps. When I say the music of 1972, what's immediately occurring in those massive, pulsating musical brains of yours?

So many different artists being at the absolute top of their game. Off the top of my head, just like, you know, three instantly occur. T-Rex, Rolling Stones, Curtis Mayfield, just, I mean, just so fucking much going on. Can did the best album, I think. And just every band, because like, when you do think about the past,

of course you do come back to albums quite a lot. Every band seems to be just crafting great, amazing records in 1972. There's also, and this is a sidetrack, but there's a pleasingness about that number, 72. I don't know what it is, but there's just something nice about it. It's more aesthetically pleasing to me than 73 or 74 or 75. And this is a glam era, but I'm not entirely sure it's called glam yet.

So many bands and so many artists just in their imperial phase i think in 72 um you know with a real suggestive kind of possibility where 70s pop might go um so not only just amazing tunes on this episode but so many sort of tracks laid down if you like for the future as well it's an amazing year 1972 never really comes up in the conversation when people talk about great music years but i had a look at my record collection before this and it's rammed with 72 so you know stuff like brother brother brother by the isley brothers america eats its young by funkadelic still bill by bill withers floyd joy by the supremes there it is and get on the good foot

by james brown the soundtrack to The Harder They Come, Superfly by Curtis Mayfield, Backstabbers by The OJs, On The Corner by Miles Davis, I'm Still In Love With You

by Al Green, Talking Book by Stevie Wonder, Round Two by The Stylistics, What You See Is What You Get by The Dramatics,

Donny Hathaway Live, The What Stacks soundtrack and trouble man by marvin gaze just come out in america not over here yet and that is just a small sliver of music that's available at the moment that's the non-white section of uh 1972 i was gonna say al if you look very closely at that list you might eventually spot the reason why 1972 is not really seen as a great year for music by most prominent rock and roll critics yeah neil you've said that a lot of amazing bands are at the peak but one of the striking things about this episode is that out of the 13 acts we're

going to see yeah only two of them were part of last year's Christmas fair. And one of them's only here because it was last year's Christmas number one. It's almost like a cartel of new faces and old acts have come together to drag us out of the 60s and begin what is the proper early 70s and the golden age atop of the pops. Yeah, absolutely. I think you're absolutely right. And stylistically, the way this episode is directed as well, the title sequence and everything else, I don't think it gets any right and stylistically the way this episode is directed as well the title sequence and everything else i don't think it gets any better in the 70s than this um you know the mix of audience with artists and just the camera work and everything about it they have really nailed this show to almost perfection in this stage by looking at

this it's obvious that the golden age has begun, despite or because of the generation gap that appears to be opening up in pop. But it's still getting coated down. Consider the following television review by Bob Phillips in the Coventry Evening Telegraph earlier this year. Headline, Pop Without the Sparkle. Nostalgic 30-year-olds nursing teen beat memories of Adam Faith, Duffy Power and Terry Dean must stare aghast at the juvenile, amateurish claptrap which the BBC puts out each Thursday night as their sole concession to pop music. Who can suppress a shudder at today's scene when comparing it to

6-5 special or Ready Steady Go and those jolly, lank-haired girls all starry-eyed who introduced us to Marty Wilde and Lord Rockingham's Eleven in the innocent atmosphere of a youth club social? atmosphere of a youth club social. Now top of the pops is fragmented bits of film, flashing lights and unkempt youths in spangles and string vests. All the vitality and energy, the enthusiasm and immediacy of contemporary pop music has been brushed aside in the interest of appealing to an imaginary audience of lovelorn 10 year olds tricked up camera angles cavernous echo effects and the strange jollity of tony

blackburn jimmy saville and ed stewart cannot disguise the desperate mediocrity of it all. Up yours, grandad. Too right. Get with the fucking programme, daddy, eh? Kids love cavernous echo effects and trippy visuals. He liked pants people, though, didn't he? Yeah. Obviously. Because he's a fucking dad.

Yeah, what a fucking rotter. I mean, it's hard to know what to say about it because it literally is someone saying, you know, yeah, T-Rex and Slade. It's all shit, isn't it? It's better when it was Lord Rockingham's Eleven. Yeah. That's literally what he's saying.

Who needs Mark Bolan when I've got Skiffle? It's ludicrous, but it's always like that. I was flicking through the first episode ever of Top of the Pops on the newspaper archive site just to see what they said about it. Slagged off on day one. Yeah, yeah. The essential thrust of the review was, ooh, this isn't as good as Thank You, Lucky Stars.

Yeah, yeah. Where's Cliff Richard? Yeah, yeah. It's the same shtick, isn't it? Young people are disgusting and their pop music is disgusting. Yes. Who's this David Bowie?

Did he ever sing Donald Wears Your your truces no he fucking did i mean while doing the research for this episode the kids were taking over big style there was an article in the daily mirror called tots of the pops where they were going on about how youth clubs were starting to run their own discos because the kids were really getting into the scene, man. They interviewed some of the kids, said what they like, and they said, by the way, T-Rex, Gary Glitter, it's mint. And one girl said, oh, well, when I'm at home, I have to listen to old people's music like Tom Jones.

And when I'm at school, I have to listen to matching mould. What the fuck is this? There's something very noticeable about the audience in that regard. I mean, I remember doing the episode from 69 with Taylor, or was it 1970? And, you know, the audience in those episodes, just a mere sort of two, three years before, they seemed hip. You know, they seemed Carnaby Street hip, if you like. They all seemed 20-something, or at least early 20s but you know in this episode although the people who

are kept near the djs during the between song announcements are still a little bit like that in the audience frogging away you do see property they're fucking loving it aren't they and we loved it too. So let's move on. conditions apply. In the news, Richard Nixon orders that the US Air Force bomb the shit out of North Vietnam for 12 days, with a break over Christmas because baby Jesus,

to worldwide condemnation. Meanwhile, the Viet Cong are still boycotting peace talks in Paris. Can't imagine why. Harry Truman, the president of the USA who ordered the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, dies on Boxing Day at the age of 88. Kim Il-sung decides to change his job title and becomes the first president of North Korea. The American mathematician Edward Lorenz publishes a paper which introduces the world to the butterfly effect. A newspaper in Uruguay reveals that 16 survivors from a rugby team whose plane crashed in the Andes had their dead mates for tea

and probably shoved the bones up each other's arses for a laugh because you know what rugby sorts are like. Meanwhile, West Germany's Stern magazine reports that a skull found by some builders in West Berlin could belong to Martin Bormann. It would be another 26 years before DNA testing proves them right. In the UK, a listener's poll in the Radio 4 programme The World at One

has voted for its man of the year, Enoch Powell. Of course. An Icelandic patrol boat has cut the wires of a trawler from Hull in the North Sea, ramping up the Cod War. Howard Hughes has suddenly turned up in London and immediately blockbooks the entire north wing of the Park Lane Hotel for £1,000 a night. He was rushed through Gatwick Airport despite not having a passport and is expected to throw handfuls at money of British businesses, invest in assorted schemes both here and on the continent,

and wear some tissue boxes on his feet. Princess Anne has been spotted trying to kill some foxes with a mystery man who turns out to be Captain Mark Phillips, sparking rumours of a potential engagement by sad bastards who are into that sort of thing. Molly, a performing chimp appearing at a Christmas show in Leeds wearing a dress and frilly knickers, escapes through the audience, gets out into the street

and eventually breaks into someone's house and watches the racing on the telly with them for a bit before being recaptured. Tommy Docketer, the new manager of Man United, has made his first signing, George Graham of Arsenal, for £120,000. United, currently languishing at second from bottom in Division One, would end up avoiding relegation but went down the season after that. But the big news this week is that Santa's been. You were too young for this Christmas shit, weren't you? Yeah, pretty much.

Four months, I think I was. Well, on your behalf, I got loads of space stuff. Sort of wind-up spacemen and moon launchers and shit like that. I mean, this is the curse of my life. You talk about the curse of my life you talk about the curse of being born in 1972 imagine being born in 1968 and having no memory of seeing any moon landing stuff on the telly that hurts man the last moon mission finished a month ago i can't i can't

think i can't remember a single thing about it i suspect that it all happened in port call you know I suspect that it all happened in Porthcawl, you know. I heard something on the internet. On the cover of the NME this week, Jimi Hendrix. There's a new story about an official film biography coming out in the new year. On the cover of Pop Swap, Donny Osmond.

On the cover of the Christmas Radio Times, Bruce Forsyth, Morecambe and Wise, Lulu and a stuffed lion. All circused up to commemorate Billy Smart's circus thing on Christmas Day. On the cover of TV Times, Jack Smethurst and Rupert Walker in Santa costumes indulging in a bit of festive racism. indulging in a bit of festive racism. Love Thy Neighbour featured in the all-star comedy carnival on ITV on Christmas night, presented by Jimmy Tarr. But we mentioned it before.

Bloody Nora, It's a Black Christmas, etc, etc. The number one single this week, Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool by Little Jimmy Osman. Don't worry, Pulp Crazy Youngsters, it's not on this episode. The number one LP, 20 all-time greats of the 50s. The highest-placed new LP is Slade by Slade at number five. Over in America, the US number one single is Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul. And the number one LP,

Seventh Sojourn by the Moody Blues. Chaps, shockingly, Americans, who are, after all, to blame for the trend of ramming Christmas up people's arses from October onwards and think they own the fucking holiday. Never been asked about the Christmas number one, have they? No, they haven't, have they? Isn't that weird?

Yeah, it's a completely British phenomenon. Would you care to hear a list of the Christmas number ones in America from 1970 to 1989? Yeah, alright. Hit the music. 1970, Tears of a Clown, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.

1971, Brand New Key, Melanet. 1972, as we've said, me and Mrs Jones, Billy Paul. 1973, The Most Beautiful Girl, Charlie Rich. 1974, Cats in the Craigle, Harry Chapin. Nah, fuck off. 1975, That's The Way I Like It by Casey and the Sunshine Band. Chill.

1976, Tonight's The Night, Rod Stewart. Jesus, no. 1977, How Deep Is Your Love, the Bee Gees. Beautiful. 1978, Le Freak by Chic. Yes. 1979, the last number one in America of the 70s, Escape, the Pina Colada song by Rupert Holmes

Fucking hell 1980 Lady Kenny Rogers 1981 Physical Olivia Newton-John 1982 Maneater Hall & Oates 1983

Say Say Say by Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson. 1984, Like a Virgin, Madonna. Faintly festive, I suppose. Meh. 1985, Say You, Say Me, Lionel Richer. 1986, Walk Like an Egyptian, The Bangles. Yeah, go on then. 1987, Faith, George Michael. Walk Like an Egyptian The Bangles Yeah go on then 1987

Faith George Michael 1988 Every Rose Has Its Thorn By Poison Oh fucking god And 1989 Another Day in Paradise

By Phil Collins No sleigh bells No cliff No jive bunner. Why do Americans hate baby Jesus, I ask you? That's fucked, isn't it? I mean, the whole idea of a Christmas record is just foreign to them, completely foreign to them.

There are some corking records in there, but bloody hell. Yes, there are. That's the way I like it. Fucking tune. No, I mean, we are Don't You Want Me, of course, but, you know. It's a big part of Christmas here, hearing those Christmas songs. Christmas songs

mean something to us. That two-word phrase, I guess it means fuck all to. I mean, if every rose has its thorn, it's a fucking Christmas song to Americans, Jesus. Yeah. Although, really, that only started in the 70s because in the 60s

the Beatles used to put a single out every Christmas and that was always number one at Christmas and it was never about Christmas so anyway boys what were you doing in December of 1972 well I've not got

a lot of memories I was four months old living in the roughest area of Coventry Woodend but you know innocent of what was going on outside I've not got a lot of memories. I was four months old, living in the roughest area of Coventry, Woodend. But, you know, innocent of what was going on outside. Yeah, basically what? Sitting in my own shit, I guess.

Four months old. Oddly enough, I don't know why my parents did this, but literally when I was about a week old in early August, we'd gone to India, which obviously I don't have many memories of. There are photos of me. Just a newborn on a nine-hour air India flight to India. which obviously I don't have many memories of. There are photos of me, just a newborn,

on a nine-hour air India flight to India. Very strange. But, yeah, all that was over. So, yeah, in my little flat in Woodend, the Woodend that would later, you know, be part of the enemy's own strategy to make themselves look hard by saying stories going off Woodend style, whatever the fuck that means.

But, yeah, not a lot of memories, to be honest with you, but happy as Larry. Yeah, what was I doing Christmas night? I think screaming and crying. So I'd come full circle, really. What were your parents doing? When my dad was working at Courtaulds in Coventry, he'd finished his degree at Nuneaton Technical College,

and he was working there in Courtaulds on Fodale Road. And my mum was doing... Yeah, this is it. Did everyone know what their dad did for a living? I mean, I knew he was an engineer. Eventually, I think when I was about 10, he explained what type of engineer. He was a costings

engineer, thrillingly enough. He didn't make a chocolate biscuit machine or anything like that. No, unfortunately, no. And my mum was the matron of the old people's home that we were living in and that was sort of the story for most of the 70s so my mum would be matron and we'd live in the flat above all the old folk so yeah even as a baby i was being toted around passed around basically between old folk who otherwise would just be staring into the distance, you know, with sad memories etched on their eyeballs, really. But, yeah, I was completely oblivious to this.

So the usual snuff deliveries and the rest. Yes. I hadn't met my parents yet. I was still waiting to be adopted. So I was one of those babies who, this Christmas, has no home. Oh, no. The little boy that Santa Claus forgot. Oh, breaks your fucking heart, man.

It didn't do me any harm in the long run. Well, I was four, and 1972 was another golden year in my life. I'd started the year at Lino's, which was the bingo all in ice and green where my mom worked as a cleaner and a caller because the nursery was too far away and i fucking loved it there old converted cinema so loads of massively long games of hide and seek and playing with the toys in the prize bingo section and most importantly singing on the microphone next to the bingo blower one of the songs we're going to hear in this episode i was very fond of shouting but by this time december

i'd been let into scott home infant school a year earlier my mom always says to me that that i could read by 18 months and i'm like really and she, you know, we'd be sitting on the bus and another bus would go by the other end and you'd point up the poster, the advertising poster on the side of the bus, which was a packet of fish fingers. And you just shout, bird's eye fish fingers. Anyway, I was let into Scott Home Infant School a year earlier on the basis of me recognising a massive photo of a fish finger.

And I do remember the first day there because I can remember my mum, Techie, and Miss Baxter was there, who was lovely. She was a proper, you know, 70s go-ahead young teacher, played the guitar. And she asked me what my dad did. And I said, oh, he's a lorry driver, Miss. And then she asked me what my mum did. And I knew she was a lorry driver miss and then she asked me what my

mom did and i knew she was a cleaner and i couldn't think of the word cleaner so i just said oh she's a scrubber miss and my mom pissing herself laughing and then giving me a right fucking clonk afterwards so by this time i'm pitched into the you know the cut and thrust of scott erm infant school and i fucking love it and practically the first thing i learned at that school was that thursday was pop day because that's when we had the dinner time disco you know half a p to get in which i mentioned before and i became the token white member of the rudy guys the smooth faces of the assembly hall who danced in a line like the stylistics while everyone else

was skidding about and fucking the knees of their flares up and it was they who told me in hushed tones about this amazing thing that was going to be on the telly later that evening whether the gods of our era would descend from the planet wow and make themselves available to us um top of the pops is not in my life yet. I haven't linked up with Tony Bones and his mam, who is the fucking patron saint and goddess of chart music. So that all happens next year. But for the minute, I'm dipping a toe into pop

and I'm liking what I'm hearing. Yeah, and you would be in this shit. I mean, I was thinking about those news stories that you read out earlier, Al, and it was all pretty much unremittingly grim, wasn't it? Apart from, you know, the inspirational figure of Molly the Chimp. But, yeah, you'd need pop in a year such as this, some kind of escape.

I've been flicking through Melody Maker and New Musical Express of this week, and they are moaning like fuck about how, you know, oh, this is fucking kids' stuff, all this rubbish. And they are moaning like fuck about how, you know, oh, this is fucking kids stuff, all this rubbish. But it's not. I listen to the stuff we're going to talk about now and it's just fucking brilliant pop music. It's pure pop. And it just so happens that me as a kid

could totally understand it. As I said before about the suite, you know, I was four, five, six when I was banging to them and i never get upset thinking oh if i'd have been 14 or 15 or 16 i would have understood them even more i didn't have to be that old to get a lot of the stuff that we're gonna see in this episode it was just brilliant it wasn't childish it was universal yeah yeah there's a lot i mean yeah there's a lot of that sort of music in this episode. Stuff that basically is perfect for kids who've got the jitters in their legs,

you know, and just need to move. It's that kind of stuff. So before we go any further, why don't we do our usual thing and peruse the pages of an issue of the music press from this week. And this time I have gone for Melody Maker, December the 30th, 1972. Do you want to join me on this Maker, December the 30th, 1972.

Do you want to join me on this journey, chaps? Yes, please. On the cover, looking to the future, because, hey, it's only just begun, the maker hits us with the headline, Face of 73. Elkie Brooks, the hard-biting lady from Salford, Lancashire, and her raw jeans and sweatband vinegar Joe, looked like becoming the working class heroes of 1973. Since the early 60s, Elkie has shivered her way through more changes in pop and rock than most people would care to remember. She was on the first beacles tour of the states but now joe are slamming their way through a staggering amount of live club work

and are rapidly becoming everyone's favorite live band so be prepared for a little vinegar in your rock in 1973. It means absolutely nothing. It's a shame Dave Lee Travis didn't find out how hard biting she was. Yes. In that episode we did a while ago. In the news, the Makers News section

this week is rammed with new tour announcements with Free, Bread, the New Seekers, Sweet and Wings announcing shows across the country. But the top story is the comeback of Eric Clapton after two years with a gig at the Rainbow, supported by a supergroup led by Pete Townsend. My Eric Clapton history is reassuringly shaky, but was this when he just got off heroin

with some kind of bullshit quack electric acupuncture treatment? It's quite an expensive way to cease buying heroin and then putting it into your body, which is all you're actually doing. But who am I to lecture Eric Clapton about science? He knows more about it than scientists do. MCA Records have announced a worldwide five-album deal with a band from Dundee, the Average White Band.

They're being whipped over to Los Angeles to record their debut LP, Show Your Hand, which features the original band logo, a white gollywog which is almost immediately replaced by the one with a woman's arse forming a w a white gollywog you can't have that nowadays man well out of those two logos which is the most offensive in a way i don't think i'd be offended by a white gollywog to be honest but you'd be offended by an arse no i wouldn't be offended by an arse i guess but um what about a white gollywog's arse that's beyond the pale out now one scottish band who isn't having such a good time of it at the moment is the jsd band

the folk rockers who supported david bowie on the first leg of the ziggy stardust tour they traveled 200 miles just before christ Christmas to a gig in Cheshire to discover that their instruments, that were in a separate band which was involved in a multiple crash outside of Hull, which led three people dead, had been impounded by the police and the promoter had already replaced them with Manchester's answer to the Grateful Dead, Greasy Bear. Not a vintage era for band names.

Flaky Pastry, etc, etc. Oh, by the way, the big news story in the NME this week is that hot on the heels of the Osmonds and the Jackson 5, a British group is planning their own cartoon series, T-Rex. Mark Bolan says that he's currently working on the idea and has already fleshed out scripts and storylines and plans to have it all done in-house and then offer it to TV stations. Sadly, it's all bollocks.

Got it. Yeah, the funny thing is, though, I feel like I've seen it. Do you know what I mean? It's so easy to imagine exactly what that show at that time would have been like. Yeah, it would have been crystal tips in trousers. Yeah, but it means I can just watch it in my head. Yes. It's all right, you know, nothing special. Worth seeing if you get the chance.

Inside the paper, well, page three is given over to the writers of the maker not naked but laying their hot tips for 73 upon the readership richard williams firmly lumps onto who he calls the first cabaret star of the beetle generation and the perfect artist for aging hippies who can't be doomed with bolin and boer bet Bette Midler. Other writers go for Home, John Martin, Stackridge, Glencoe and Gentle Giant, but Roy Hollingworth wins the prize for the following article. They had a very good year this year, actually, but this punky, long-haired, scruffy, loud, ear-kicking band will certainly cause a few bruises in the year to come. Loud enough to be illegal, it's stuff to grind your heels to, grind your teeth to, and grind your mind to.

Music may well become exceedingly angry next year, and they are angrier than most they also have a habit of making people dance which at this moment is the right direction come on down can you guess neil oh no i can't no chicory tip i don't fucking know. Status quo. Wow. The main interview this week is part two of Michael Watts' trip to Jamaica to doss about with the Rolling Stones, who have commenced work on Goat's Head Soup. After knocking about with Mick Jagger for part one, he has a sit-down with Keith Richard, who says he dislikes not being able to live in England for tax reasons, but doesn't feel out of touch as he listens to the BBC World Service every day. But the British

media chooses not to point out that people in Western Europe live twice as well as the British. He tells Watts that there are worse places to live than his current domicile, Switzerland, but says it's the most uncreative place in the world because they're all minted he talks about the recent tour of america and feels that the place has calmed down a bit since 1969 and speculates it's because american kids have become proper custard gannets the center spread is given over to more gazing into the crystal ball of 1973 this time by quote the big names of music tony iomi reckons that the big event of 1972 was the staging of tommy at the rainbow last month after it was banned from the albert hall rory gallagher

predicts or at least hopes that glam will die out next year. Hawkwind accused Gary Glitter of destroying a lot of the integrity that was once part of rock. Brian Connolly of The Suite states that the head scene is gradually losing its hold and slayed with a band of the year, but he doesn't think they'll last in 73. And Bob Harris has written 1972 off as an unmemorable year for music. Of course he hasn't, cunt. Yeah, I write it off as an unremarkable year for Bob Harris. Much like 1973, 1974, especially 1976.

1977, 1970, I mean, you know, I could go on. Michael Benton drops in on Ray Dorsett of Mungo Gerre, who were back on the comeback trail after a turbulent 72, which saw him split the band, put out a solo LP, and form a new Mungo Mark II. He tells Benton that he regrets the instant successor in the summertime rort and implores us that the new band's lp that has already flopped called boot power isn't a true indication of the band boot power i've heard the single of the same name it's so disappointing but how do

they make a whole album that isn't a true indication of the band? And how can you regret the success? Benton also has a chat with Edwin Starr, who's in the country shopping round for a record deal, and he says that he'll be spending a lot of time in Britain in the future. Mark Plummer journeys down to South London to link up with Steelers Wheel, who have just lost Gerry Rafferty who is pursuing a solo career. The band tell him that although they think Rafferty is a great songwriter and performer they're only going to get better in 1973 and then Stuck in the Middle became a massive hit in America

and Rafferty was brought back in where he stayed until they split up in 1975 and an entire page is given over to pieces on quote two important new motown albums 1957 to 1972 the sign off live lp by smoky robinson and the miracles and trouble man by marvin gaye trouble Man's fucking mint. Oh, yes. No single reviews this week, because, hey, it's Christmas, man. Mm-hmm. But in the LP review section, the main review is given over to No Secrets, the third LP by Carly Simon,

and Alan Lewis properly reckons it. This is contemporary music at its best, a perfect blend of the singer-songwriter movement with the red-blooded vitality of rock. It's not her best album. They're all marvellous. But it's the one that's going to break her to the great British public via the single You're So Vain.

It was Bob Harris, I think, who said recently that Carly Simon was becoming ominously fashionable. I hope so. Ominously fashionable. Did he get through the whole review without mentioning the fact that the cover features what I've always assumed to be a lewd visual gag on the album's title? No. No.

Well, if so, what kind of 1970s male rock journalist is this? You can see her nipples for fuck's sake. Oh, yes. Yes. Yeah, because John Lennon used to call her nipples, didn't he? When he was knocking about with Harry Nilsson. Oh, of course, yeah. Well, maybe that's how Alan Lewis ended up being the head of IPC's

entire music press department in later life. He's responsible. Motown have finally put out Ben, Michael Jackson's second solo LP over here, just in time for him to gnaw away at your little sister's Christmas record token. But Alan Lewis is still confused about the title track, which is currently at number eight in the singles chart.

It must be the strangest hit of the year. How many of the weenies who are currently shivering with delight at Michael's dulcet tones realise he's singing to a rat? And if they don't realise, do they think he's singing to his boyfriend? I can only report that Michael continues to amaze with the boldness and maturity of his phrasing and his sense of swing. But it's a coat down for clear spot by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, which gets the headline, No Heart, No Beef. I can only be totally baffled by this says richard hollingworth here is the captain here is one hell of a roaring band and all we get are fairly acceptable numbers that you won't rush back to in a hurry wrong wrong wrong wrong that's a fucking great record yeah it's astonishing how underappreciated clear spot

was at the time it's like people people actually listened to Big Eyed Beans from Venus and thought, hmm, I won't rush back to this in a hurry. Too busy listening to Vinegar Joe. Or Greasy Bear. Keeper of the Castle, the first LP by the Four Tops after their defection from Motown, has disappointed Alan Lewis. Deprived of real meat,

the Tops can easily sink into the kind of well-upholstered mediocrity which puts them nearer to Las Vegas than Detroit, says Lewis, who compares the LP very unfavourably to Nature Planned It, their last Motown LP, which came out earlier this year. Unhappily for Probe, their new label, that final Tamla album reminded us what the Tops can really do. Buy that before you buy this. And Lewis finds time to put the boot in on the Roscoe album. This album, which contains 12 hoary old soul classics linked by some typically frantic patter by Emperor Roscoe,

began life as a promotional aid for discotheques and put on the market, presumably for those who want an instant DJ kit to enliven their parties. Well, if you really need this, your party is beyond resuscitation. In the gig guide, well,id could have seen sparks at the marquee jailbait at islington sunrock the average white band at the speakeasy or took himself down to the golders green odian to check out cinderella with ed stewart barbara windsor and Jackie, Mr. TV, Palo. Taylor could have seen Edwin star at Barbarella's or nip

down to Wolverhampton to see Cinderella at the Grand starring Donna and Freddie Garrity. Fucking hell. I think I'd rather count the bees in a hive naked. Neil could have seen Steeler's Wheel at Dudley JB's

or Aladdin at the Coventry Theatre with Mike and Bernie Winters. Oh, and Schnorbitz? No, no Schnorbitz's yet. No Schnorbitz, okay. Sarah could have seen The Equals at Scarborough Intercon, Judge Dredd at Scunthorpe Baths, Chicken Shack at the Hull Intercon or nipped over to Peniston town hall to see the

new elvis documentary that's the way it is i could have seen fumble at the intercom jigsaw and desmond decker at the intercom emperor roscoe at the intercom or judas priest at hucknall miners welfare oh my word what a show that would have been. Yeah. Jigsaw and Desmond Decker. It can't be that Jigsaw, surely. Not Ducky Des. And Simon could have seen Bobby Crush

at Tito's in Cardiff all week. And fuck all else. Because, hey, what else do you need when Bobby Crush is there all week? Yeah, but worth the trip to see Judas Priest at Hocknellall Miner's Welfare. In the letters page, the main topic of conversation is still what Paul McCartney said in a Melody Maker interview about Northern Ireland. But the letters are too boring to go into.

And it's clear they're only there so Melody Maker can use a massive cartoon of Macca as a dove of peace perched upon a microphone the fiori over my ding-a-ling by chuck berry continues unabated and christopher pearson of pearly has his say the real obscenity is not the shakespearean boredness of chuck berry but the mechanical plasticity of the Osmonds. Yeah, man. Yeah. Anyone who likes the Osmonds is a robot sheep. Melody Maker has been banging on all year about what a place of artistic freedom New Orleans is,

but Gene Nunez Jr., a muso who lives there, writes to say that he reckons it's cat shit. The rock musician's New Orleans has nothing to offer. The club audiences on Bourbon Street are only interested in hearing local bands play carbon copies of the latest heavy sounds. And playing original material or blues are two ways to find yourself and your gear being ushered out, he writes. Oh, fucking hell, mate, come to Ucknell.

It's all going on there, mate. I'm sick to death of listening to people going on about the genius of Tome, says Steve Mendel of Pyram. I, for one, think this so-called opera is a cheap, pretentious attempt to bring a ray of culture into the scruffy lives of the Who. Bands like the Mahavishnu Orchestra and Weather Report must always struggle because their music requires some concentration and you can't get off on it straight away,

while bands such as the Who, using simple repetitive chords and phrases, will always flourish. It's just not fair, man. Those simple repetitive chords and phrases, will always flourish. It's just not fair, man. Those simple repetitive chords and phrases, that's not rock and roll. No. Yeah, when that letter started off,

I'm sick and tired of hearing about the genius of Tommy. I thought you were going to say, right, it's Bobby Ball of Oldham. Until October the 24th, i had heard nothing of genesis and was still listening to bolan and the boppers after that evening i was completely changed says andrew dyer of gosport not only are they original but they sing such imaginative lyrics It shows the older generation that not all bands are thick dropouts. Right, because nothing could be more important than showing the older generation that. Michael Pinner of Winchester speculates that all this glam rock campere is going to result in a right-wing backlash so intense that Enoch Powell will look moderate.

and a right-wing backlash so intense that Enoch Powell will look moderate. Philip James Durrell of Hampstead thinks that Amon Dull 2... Am I saying this right? Yeah, I think so. How can I say it wrong to offend David the most? Eamon Dull 11. Philip James Durrell of Hampstead thinks that Eamon Dull 11 are the most fantastic combination of true progressive sounds I have ever experienced. Miss Carol Gardner of the Gold Hawk Road points out that Slade have nicked their habit of misspelled song titles from Sly and the Family Stone.

And Jay Worrell of Birmingham is disgusted that Yes have bypassed the Second City on its latest tour. There's no doubt they would sell out even with two performances people from all over the midlands would flock to see them maybe they just can't find birmingham maybe they're having the same problems as you neil too bloody right yeah 40 pages 8p i never knew there was so much in it and judging by the critical content i think like 8p's fair enough um there's so much snobbery isn't there yes this mechanical plasticity yes it's really noticeable and that word mediocrity and and and not only in the letters but also in the writing yes that tendency to be like over loquacious to try and prove smart. It's almost like the whole thing is kind of

I don't know, is the demographic kind of university students. It seems like a kind of a middle class sneering at working class pop quite often. A lot of things that you've read out there. So what else was on telly today? Well BBC One starts the day at a quarter to ten

with a repeat of The Sky at Night, where Patrick Moore asks, how far are the stars? That's followed by an episode of Desert Crusader, the French kids action series that's essentially the flashing blade with sand. Then Annie Nightingale

presents Before the Event, a documentary about the Salisbury Pony Club. Good to see that the only female on Radio 1 is getting a proper tune. Yeah, they also sent her to deal with anything to do with children. Although, actually, thinking of who else was working at Radio 1 at the time, that might not have been a bad idea. After Huckleberry Hound, Bob Langley walks 250 miles on Britain's longest footpath from Derbyshire to Scotland in the Pennine Way. After a repeat of the Mastermind final, Mammy Two-Shoes slings Tom out of the house

and he and Jerry conspire to get him back in in the Lonesome Mouse. That's followed by Jimmy Young Asks where the Maggie-loving, bold, automatic shill finds out how the people of Hoxton managed to cope with life. After the news, it's Bob Langley again on Pebble Mill at One. Then it's Pogles Wood. Then the 1958 Ingrid Bergman film, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness. After Play School, presented by Miranda Connell and the late, great Rick Jones, Bernard Cribbins reads Beauty and the Beast in Jackanora,

then Singleton, Noakes, Purvis and Judd review Blue Peter's highlights of 1972, which include a whistling lady footballer and an exploding piano. Then it's Yogi Bear, the news news regional news in your area nationwide and they've just finished tomorrow's world with the triforce of baxter woolard and rod or who would be the better prog band out of them two singleton noakes purvis and judd or baxter woolard and rod i think baxter word and right i mean i i, yeah. They'd have better effects, wouldn't they? Blue Peter would be more of a Canterbury scene thing, I think. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, it would just be an enormous Christmas crown

made out of coat hangers, wouldn't it? Yeah, I think Singleton, Noakes, Purvis and Judd would be more on the sort of frilly, filigree end, you know, high-pitched singing and Roger Dean cover, whereas Baxter, Willard and Rod would be more like the, you know, blast your eardrums out, carry the equipment in three articulated lorries. Yeah, greasy bear, basically, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

BBC Two sets up shop at 11am with Play School, then closes down at 25 past 11 and it's off down the pub, then back at chucking out time and it's off down the pub then back at chucking out time for a kip under the desk and then off to the pub again for something to line the stomach with before nipping back at half past seven for newsroom. I say it again, what a doss job working on BBC Two was in the 1970s, mate. ITV commences at 9.30 with an hour and 40 minutes of schools programmes before One Way Out, the 1957 crime drama.

Then it's regional news in your area, the Enchanted House, Shaking Jackanore, and Witch's Brew, the horror-laden puppet show. First report with Robert Key, Les Dawson, Timbrook Taylor and Lenny Bennett pitch up on Joker's Wild and then suicide and abortion rear their ugly heads on day two of the latest Crown Court. After General Hospital, the cast of Women Today hold an early New Year crochet party with the assistance of the Birmingham and Midland Scottish Association and Visconti Bernard de la Girondeur, who owns the Laurent Perrier Champagne House. Jack Holgreaves sucks on his pipe and talks to a wheelwright or summert in Out of Town,

and that's followed by the drama series The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes. Then it's Land of the Giants, the new Dick Van Dyke show, the news, regional news in your area, Crossroads, and they're 20 minutes into the TV film Up the Down Staircase about an idealistic teacher and the sucky you she has to deal with. Oh, boys, Christmas is done, isn't it, in Tellyland? It's mental. There's nothing festive in that at all. Well, the only festive thing on telly today

is this episode of Top of the Pops. And it's not that festive, is it? No. No. And also, yeah, an hour and a half of schools programmes. Yes. People back in school. I was trying to look into this.

Yeah. The section's called Out of School. So I think they just bunged on some schools programmes just to fill some dead air, even though no one's back at school yet. But you don't know it's the early 70s, isn't yeah yeah they drove those kids hard in those days maybe it was for super swats yeah bloody creeps keynotes but it's yeah it's not exactly the unforgettable christmas television of ages past is it no it's not eight episodes of only fools and horses is it

like back to back with a pre-recorded continuity announcement in between, running from a laptop in an empty room. But, you know, you don't look at those listings and think, see, this is what we've lost now. No. Now that we're able to watch what we want whenever we want. I remember Christmases of my youth, the sheer joy of a whole nation being forced to sit down together at Christmas

and all watch the Two Ronnies 1978 Christmas special, Two Ronnies One Cup. 98 million viewers. Yes. And 146 million complaints. But not from me, I can tell you that. Well, chaps, I do believe that this, not feast, not Christmas feast, more of a Christmas buffet, isn't it? And, you know, there's an absolute feast of pop awaiting us.

But before we go any further, you know, it's that time of the year where we should all sit back and share a moment of contemplation brought to you directly from the pages of the Sunday People from Christmas Eve 1972. A Merry Christmas, dear friend. Was there ever such a crazy, mixed-up season as Christmas 1972? On the one hand, it's the biggest, brightest, booziest season of the year and at the same time some of us will be lonely, lost and our tree will hang with tears instead of tinsel. So do me a favour folks, this year open up your hearts and your home.

Before the feeding and frolics finish, be a detective and find someone who has no one. Ring up the local welfare office, knock on a stranger's door if you think they are alone, and have them round for dinner or tea. Be a pain in the neck to everyone until you find someone. At least try and I promise you'll feel happy, like fantastic. One of our top pop stars has already phoned me and said, hey, can you find two orphan kids to join the wife and me for Christmas Day? find two orphan kids to join the wife and me for Christmas Day. That's the spirit, and it'll do you more good than the other spirit, that's for sure. For me, without my darling Duchess to fill my stocking for the first time in life, I've asked my friend God and Father Christmas to find me lots of people so I

can fill theirs. God bless you all. Your pal Jimmy Savile OBE. Oh my God. Jesus Christ. Oh Christ. Weren't you expecting that?

I was expecting something. I was braced, but not for that. Poor old Jimmy with his tree deck with tears. Rolling about in his mum's clothes. Yeah, I used to do that, but no, I couldn't deal with the hassle, so now I just use fake tears. Do I want to know who the pop star was? Do we know?

I'd love to know. Married? Wants two orphans. it's like he's ordered nothing done to a crisp brown turn please yes in breadcrumbs please speaking as a parentless child in the care of social services in christmas 1972 let's just say i pretended to be asleep when he came around and on that note pop crazy young says we're gonna step away before plunging deep in part two of episode 63 of it's a christmas chart music so thank you very much neil kulkarni no problem see you down the line taylor parks you You will. My name's Al Needham. Marry whatever you do at this time of the year

and stay pop crazed. Shark music. This is the first radio ad you can smell. The new Cinnabon Pull Apart, only at Wendy's. It's ooey, gooey, and just five bucks with a small coffee all day long. Taxes extra at participating Wendy's until May 5th. Terms and conditions apply.