Chart Music: the Top Of The Pops Podcast - #77 (Pt 4): 27.12.71 – Six Tins Of Batchelors Peas

Episode Date: January 23, 2026

David Stubbs, Taylor Parkes and Al Needham reach the end of their journey through 1971 with the unsavoury sight of Ashton, Gardner and Dyke, before Diana Ross goes all Tales Of The Unexpected on us. The New Seekers – the shoulders that Guys and Dolls would stand upon – pitch up with their sanitised Hippy nonsense, and we finish with a kickabout with a garage football and John Peel on mandolin...Video Playlist| Facebook | Twitter| Bluesky | The Chart Music Wiki | Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This will certainly have an adult theme and might well contain strong scenes of sex or violence, which could be quite graphic. It may also contain some very explicit language, which will frequently mean sexual square words. What do you like this and so? Um, chart music. Chart music. It's Monday tea time. It's about two minutes to five.

It's December the 27th. You're seeing off the last of the sausage rolls while Mam is scraping out the last flex of John West Red Salmon from the tin. You're mulling over going out on your new bike before it gets too dark or retreating to the bedroom for another attempt to play crossfire with yourself. But not here, not now, because Pop is ruling the teller and it's king, top of the pops, is holding up. a rare bank holiday Monday audience. Hey up, you pop craze youngsters. And welcome to the Danumont of our look at the December 27th, 1971 episode of Top of the Pops. I'm our Needham.

There, David Stubbs and Taylor Parks. And we are rejoining the episode in progress. That's the sound of the running stones. I can see you at home eating your nuts and your chock. And chocolates and everything. Who's over-eaten here over Christmas, have you? You all have to go on a dart after us, but meanwhile, just enjoy yourselves, okay? This year, we had a fabulous new group who came onto the scene, and do you remember this one called Resurrection Shuffle from Aston Gardner and Dyke? Tony, aside another shy slip of a girl, tells us that he can see as at home eating our nuts before he turns to the girl and fat shames her for cramming Terry's chocolate oranges into a cavernous moor. before restructing her to go back on the comp plan and limits in the new year,

but allows her to enjoy herself for now. Then, he tells us of a fabulous new group who came onto the scene in 1971, Ashton Garner and Dyke with Resurrection Shuffle. Formed in Liverpool in 1958, the Remo Four were a beat combo, who became regulars at the cavern in the early 60s, who went through myriad line-up changes throughout the decade as the Mersey beat boom waxed and waned. While they watched their contemporaries dominate the music scene,

their only chart success came in 1964 when they were billed as Tommy Quickly and the Remo 4 and took Wild Side of Life to number 3 in November of that year. In 1967, George Harrison gave them the rub when he recruited them as his backing band for the Wonderwall LP. But a year later, when they were working as Billy Fury's new backing band, frontman Tony Ashton and drummer Roy Dyke left the group and linked up with Kim Gardner, who had played the bass with the birds, with an eye, and the creation,

and then were joined by guitarist Mick Lieber, formerly of Python Lee Jackson. This is the second single they released, the follow-up to Maiden Voyage, which failed to chart when it came out in 1969. And although the band were insistent that the song I'm Your Spiritual Bread Man should be put out, as it featured George Harrison on guitar, their new label Capital changed their mind

while the band were away supporting Deep Purple and released this in November of 1970. It entered the charts at number 45 in January of this year that soared 19 plays. to number 26. And four weeks later, it began a two-week stand at number three. And here they are in the studio. But before we took into the delights of Ashton, Gardner and Dyke,

got to go back to what Tony was saying to that girl about diet and everything. And it made me wonder, so what's your diet then, Tony? And luckily, I managed to locate Tony Blackburn's shopping list in 1971. It's in an article in Jackair from September of 1971 In the Bachelor Boy section Allow me to quote chaps Once a week Tony Blackburn go shopping From his flats near Regent Park

He walks down the street And into a small supermarket Picks up a wire basket And selects his goods Every week he chooses the same products six tins of bachelor's peas six tins of salmon one carton of milk

one packet of biscuits and then I sometimes get a packet of that water ice stuff I am very fond of that and like to have a packet in the fridge and that's it apart from the occasional box of eggs this is as far as Tony's shopping goes

Since his illness, Tony has had a stomach virus for the past six years, and has had three operations in the past four months. Tony has been on a diet. He's lost one and a half stone in weight and he's now down to ten stone. I feel much better for it, he says. I no longer eat bread and I've cut down on potatoes. In fact, I don't eat very much at all, apart from cooking myself's omelets, scrambled eggs and opening cans of salmon.

And then Chaps, he goes on about his bachelor life. And, yeah, it's lonely being Tony Blackburn. My relationships with the opposite sex always go wrong. It's like Peyton Place. It's a pity because there's nothing I'd like more than to settle down and get married and have children. I love children. It's probably the environment I'm mixing, but I only seem to meet actresses and girls like that. they tend to be a bit unstable.

Mainly I am on my own a lot of the time. Yes, I suppose I am lonely. It's just my character. I don't like parties. I don't like standing around talking a lot of nonsense. I can't bear those parties where you have a lot of people standing around just like a holiday camp.

I don't find it easy to talk to people in any case. Several times I've had to walk out of parties within 10 minutes of arriving. Yeah, he said to them, so did you get lots of lovely presents? Eat lots of delicious pudding. You don't know of any problem talking to me when I interviewed him, that's for sure.

You're not an actress, though, David. It did strike me as perhaps a slightly needy soul in lots of respects. Despite the fact that actually there's only two people that in the context of doing an interview, you know, professional job, whatever. It involves stepping out onto a pavement temporarily and being in the public

and both of them being mobbed. and there's only two of them. That's Tony Bennett and Tony Blackburn. But even for all that public love, you do sort of sense, perhaps, lonely on the inside. And yet you see them out there in the top of the pop studio, and the way those girls look at Tony is truly unsettling. It's like he created them.

Yes. My sweet Lord. And in a mere year's time, he will be marrying an actress, of course, Tessa Wyatt. Yeah. So anyway, Ashton, Gardner and Dyke, here they are in the studio. giving us a taste of the real

1971, I feel, because fucking hell the state of it. Yeah, yeah, you watch this and you understand why the following your mouldy old dough came such a breath of fresh air. Where do we start, chat? Well, we've got to talk about Tony Ashton

because fuck me, he is the dead spit of eight ace, isn't it? Absolutely. Jesus Christ. Yeah, it really is another case of, I see your uncle finally got to make his record then. Yes.

Truly is the unacceptable smell of 1971. God, yeah, very much so. It's fucking seven ace there. This Larger the Life character. He is horrific. He looks like his bed sheets stink of old kebab meat. But all of these fuckers

are on the Dennis Waterman diet of Chewborg and tinned ham. Yes. A fucking shower. A shower, ironically enough, being something none of them have ever experienced. Once fortnight they get in a bath with no bubbles and sit there until the water gets a scum on it.

It's just horribly redolent, isn't it? You just think of lard-like blobs of blue cream on the side of jet black sideburns. It's just the mud after the snow. It's the sludge. It feels like a kind of manifestation of a sort of cultural sludge. Basically, you look at these cunts and literally the only crimes, you couldn't imagine them. being arrested for,

are secure is an investment fraud and impersonating a police officer. Yes. Anything else, I would believe it immediately. Tony Ashton is holding centre stage, of course, as he's a singer. He's sitting behind Elton John's Baker-Foyle piano, which has been wheeled back on.

But it's now been adorned with the kind of hat that Marcel Marceau would wear if a flower was stuck to it. But in this case, there's a balloon staple to the top. And he's wearing frayed, double denim, and brown monkey boots. Looking every inch like your dad's dodgy mate that your man really doesn't like

and won't let in the house. There is so much that's happening now. There is these kind of physical and metaphorical cultural conditions that are sort of horrible and wet and brown or whatever at the time. You sense so much what Topler pops is trying to do is just offer some sort of escape from that, some sort of sense of lightness and counterpoint to all of that.

But here it's almost like they're just revelling. Listen to this and watching this. It's like when you face rubble. in dirt outside a flat-roof-roup park. So, Kim Gardner and Mick Lieber, the guitarist who's also a permanent fixture in the band, but doesn't get a credit in the name. They look like how Lenny and Squiggy would look if they were in the liverbirds instead of Laverne and Sherlock, wearing jeans that have clearly not been washed in the 70s, if ever.

Because when the camera pans round the back of them, you can clearly see those tell-tale creases round the backs of the knees and you think them jeans have never seen the inside of an electro-lux but the brass section fucking hell the paedophile information exchange horns if you will

imagine if James Brown was caught short and needed a last minute replacement aid Jesus he'd be flashing the $5 fine signal so fast and hard he'd have fucking carpool tunnel syndrome before his first knee drop yeah the brass section is a man in disguise,

a prison gardener and a French broom salesman. Who needs it? But then everything about this record, who needs it? This is the thing. I don't understand what they think they're doing,

what is the purpose, who this is for, what pleasure they get out of making this music. Because it's not even that it's terrible. It's like making all the effort to open up a sandwich shop. But the only thing, sandwiches you're selling a corn beef on white bread and you've got people coming in going,

have you got tuna, if you've got cheese and tomato, can have it on a granary roll? No, we've got corn beef on white bread. Thousands and thousands of them stacked up behind me. Buy one or fuck off. With a hand imprint still in the bread. It's not doing anyone any serious harm, but what's the point of going to that trouble? It's like an enormous... painstakingly assembled matchstick sculpture of a potato.

It's like, well done. Thanks for your contribution. Shame you didn't spend all those hours inventing new medicines or finding out what shampoo is. Yes. But it is the symptom of the time. Musically, the tail end of that, Sixth century's obsession with the band.

And by extension, rustic roots music. Yeah. You know, other people's roots. Yeah. People whose favourite Beatles song is, Don't Pass Me By. Oh God. That's these people, you know.

He's like the singing butcher of Coventry. Yes. But lacking even the skill of butchery. Like, why would anybody care about any of this? Yeah. All of the songs, pretty much all of them, they would have taken up lifelong lodgings in my head,

having first exposed them in 1971, a point where I was just really opening up to the world. But this, I think I would have just zoned down, at the time. It would have just been too depressing about the reality that I sort of spent pretty much every day of the weak experience. But anyway, no matter what we say about it,

the kids are doing their absolute best to do the resurrection shuffle. Even though they've got very little to go on, you know, you put your hand on your hip and then you let your backbone slip, like you do with every other fucking dance of the 60s. But yeah, they're getting into it, particularly your woman in the day of the dresser.

She's having a right go. She's a proper. rave as she is core. You want more game, aren't they, in the 71 top of the props? Yeah, they'll dance to vote. Doesn't feel like they've been busting under sufferance or anything. You know, they give me it a go.

But you're right about the song, David. I fucking hate it. And I've hated it ever since it was a toddler. And I just don't know why. It was one of those songs that was on the radio right throughout the 70s, long after it's sell by day, along with stuff like, you know,

I gave it up for music and the free electric band. And it's just like, what are you playing this for when there's racy to be had? But going off that opening drumbeat, you can easily imagine some young Ted lads in Leicester listening to it and sucking a thoughtful tooth. And maybe that's why I dislike it, actually, because if I'd hear it at a school disco years later, as I did,

I'd hear that drumbeat and prepare to throw myself on the floor and do a press up to the hardcore rockabilly of some girls or dancing party tonight and be sadly denied. So, yeah, not even. in favour of it, I'm afraid. I love how they're using that fashionable new firm of solicitors' band name template without worrying that nobody has a clue who Ashton or Gardner or especially Dyke even are. You call yourself Crosby Stills and Nash as an advertisement so people say, oh, I know

those names and they take an interest. But this is like inventing a cocktail and calling it Churibaloo, week. gloss and triple water. It's a clunky name. It doesn't appeal to anyone. And it's basically just a litany of nothing. Nobody's got a clue. There are no Baxter Wallard and Rod, are there?

I was watching this. Desperately trying to keep my brain busy so that it didn't try to remove itself from my skull in protest. And I was thinking, I don't know whether being in Ashton, Gardner and Dyke would be fun or not. Because like compared to being a sewage farm attendant, it was probably a top-notch life.

But it still sort of looks like what it must have been like playing for Leeds United around this time. Do you know what I mean? An uncommon level of success, but not enough to lift the shit cloud of early 70s gloom. You're basically still Jack Charlton and Billy Bremner with pints of bits of bitch. playing dominoes in the pub swathed in fact smoke just like their dad but with bigger sideboards

yeah I'm thinking of that other grim clip on the BBC Archive YouTube channel have you seen it where Colin Welland hangs out with the Leeds team in about 1971 or 1972 it's worth watching put it on the video playlist

it does not look like an especially glamorous life put it that way especially the bit where Colin Welland gets a soapy massage from Don Revy looming over him, like red-faced with the steam from the communal bath. It looks like the last thing Brian Clough saw before he woke up screaming and sat bolt upright in bed. Resurrection Shuffle might as well have been playing on that.

I think it's the soundtrack to compulsory enthusiasm. I think that's what gets me about this. You know, like your sort of overbearing arms knees up. Or enforced masturbation. So Resurrection Shuffle would sell over 345,000 copies in the UK. It would be their only hit, though. The follow-up, Can You Get It, has already failed to chart. And when their next single did likewise, they split up in 1972,

with Dyke and Gardner during the rock band, Badger and Ashton joining medicine head, then Famlair, then being one third of Pace Ashton Lord. Oh, and Dyke, the drummer who looks like Gilbert O'Sullivan in a wig, he went on to marry Stacia. Yes, that's Stasia. Wow. Blimey. And here's another former number one, the very beautiful I'm still waiting from Diana Ross. With minimal pissing about, we go straight into the next single.

I'm still waiting by Diana Ross. Into her first full year as a solo artist after she left the Supremes, Diana Ross has spent much of 1971 branching out into television with the TV special Diana and cinema. She's currently getting ready to film Lady Sings the Blues. But while her singles are not done, doing what Motown expected them to in America. She's a lot more popular in the UK.

When this was put out in Yankee land as the follow-up to surrender, it only got to number 63 on the Billboard Hot 100, and Motown decided not to bother releasing it over here, assuming the Brits wouldn't be asked with a year-old album track. But then, a man of vision and impeccable taste strode into view with a shopping basket full of bachelor's peas and salmon, Tony Blackburn, who played it relentlessly on his breakfast show and told Motam that if they released it in the UK,

he would make it his record of the week. It entered the charts at number 16 on the last day of July, and three weeks later, bend off, get it on, and reach the topmost of the popermost. And here's another chance to see a common feature of Sixth century's top of the pop of the pop, the in-house proto golden oldie picture show video which is

yeah it's one of them isn't it? Yeah it's some animation which looks like the opening titles to an early seventh is supernatural anthology series

called Depths of Fear like T.P. McKenna as a professional dog walker with a tedifying secret. Yeah it's a montage of old paintings of rabbits and grapes and

and latins. You know, that kind of art shit with someone in a cape whitened out and multiplied while they're dancing about and overlaid onto the artwork. It's very armchair thriller isn't it? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was watching that thinking Susan George is being plagued

by mysterious telephone calls from a stranger who knows too much about her life. But yeah, it's pretty standard fear for Top of the Pops Roundabout this time, isn't it? I mean, I think we've seen madder. You know, that Barry White one

and Wedding Bell Blues with that miserable girl swinging some flowers about. So let's move on to the song chaps because never mind what's going on or where I'm coming from by Stevie Wonder the two big LP releases from Motown in 1970. This is what Barry Gordy wants Motown to be in the 70s, doesn't it?

You know, the move to Los Angeles is well underway. Diana Ross is going to be a movie star by any means necessary. And yeah, the label is desperate. it to grow up. And if you want the sound of Young America, well, fuck off to the record shots so you token and get Motown

Chalbusters Volume 6, because you ain't going to get that kind of shit from Motown anymore. But in the meantime, apart from this song, the other big Motown hit of 1971 was the re-release of Heaven Must have sent you by the Elgin's, which I think got to number 5 or 6 or something like that. So there's a

craving for old Motown, but Motown's not having it, mate. This is who we are now. Yeah, I suppose it's look at them to evolve in a different way, because obviously at the same time, he's got all of his tension with artists like, like you mentioned, where I'm coming from, which is Stevie Wonder's attempt to do what's going on, and of course what's going on itself. And, of course, you know, the increasing mood of militancy.

And I don't think that really isn't necessarily awfully keen on that. I mean, you do have to admire this song in terms of its contours, its grace, you know, and it's got this soulful high gloss about it. And, you know, this diaphanous quality or dianaphous quality, as you might say. Oh, very good. Having said that, I'd have gone out and played football in the road, Which you could do back then. Yeah.

You know, like cars going down that street every 10 seconds now. But in 1971, they went down every 15 minutes. So you could get a good solid session in it, you know, before you had, you know, curly whirlies for goalposts and all that. Yes, indeed, yes. And I would have played with my leather football, which was my 1970 present. Was it still in good neck in 1971? Yeah, it wasn't too bad. Yeah.

I mean, it had been kicked around. But it was a pretty durable. You know, you just couldn't head it. That was all. Well, that's all right. I was never a header of the ball. Oh, you had a Casey. Yeah, what's interesting at this?

This time, black pop, like the very commercial, big selling end of black pop is peeling away from white pop and vice versa. Like there's this new smoothness and this new interest in texture and harmonic subtlety, which is the exact opposite direction to most popular white musicians who are now doing heavy blues rock and pretty basic country rock and glam rock and somebody else's roots music, you know. It's like the two sides were moving towards each other. And now they've crossed over and gone past each other and just kept going. And now the white musicians are accelerating away from complex melody and songcraft. And, you know, the sort of classical stroke, cold porter tradition. And the black musicians are accelerating away from rhythm and grit and sonic boldness.

So this is the period or one of the periods where that ongoing conversation between black and white American music, which began long before rock and roll, but was always key to the ongoing development of popular song, suddenly goes quiet for a few years and both sides are off in opposite directions, at least when it comes to the chance. And I honestly can't work out how much I like this song. And the same is true for a lot of this slightly schmaltzy stuff from around this time. But harmonically, it's great. The chords are brilliant. And the array. is quite musically sophisticated, but there's something slightly soupy about it,

which just wouldn't have been there a few years earlier or a few years later. And although this isn't like pure schlock, it is the beginning of Diana's descent into schlock, high-class schlok, until she was saved by disco. And it's all about centering her voice as well. And I'm one of the heretics who doesn't think her voice was all that,

really. I mean, it's better than mine, especially in its current horse and ragged state. And I do like her singing, but I think it's more distinctive than effective, you know? Yeah. But then I'm also the kind of heretic who thinks the post-Diana Ross Supreme singles average out as better than the ones they made with her in the group. Not that I don't think you keep me hanging on is amazing. But you know what's even better up the ladder to the room? Yes.

Although it's interesting. I mean, I don't think that, I mean, Diana Ross is, yeah, she ain't the Rita Franklin or whatever. And I don't think that with her, her stardom was, like, basing the quality of her voice. Although, obviously, she's a capable singer, and she can deliver her sort of pop, believe it might seem occasionally slightly bland or whatever. But, you know, there's always a sense that she got far too big of her boots within, you know, the Supremes and, you know, she did the others down. But whenever you do see them performing, Diana Ross and the Supreme,

she exudes so much more twinkling, so much more star quality than they do. They're kind of standing in that sort of delivering these. harmony is almost in a sort of passive aggressive sort of way, but not really exuding much star quality in their own right. I mean, she had that in absolute bundles, and they didn't quite frankly. Yeah, Cindy Birdsong, FTW. And of course, Tony is very pleased with himself for being the puppet master of the charts at 1971 for the second time I'll have, you know, do you know what the first one was? The other number one single in 1971 because of Tony Blackburn? Oh, go on. Churpy, chirpy, cheap, cheap.

Oh. Yes, he discovered it on Radio 1 and played it to death. Anything else to say, chaps? Yes, there is. Diana Ross also gets a mention in that youth culture Bible of late 1971, the Fab 208 annual 1972. Right. I went through my copy and I discovered within its hallowed pages, a double page feature called Sugar and Spice, which in its same.

own words, takes a look at six girls who have made it right to the top and sees just what each one is made of. Like sugar and spice. You see what I'm saying? Yeah. It examines what these girls are made of, what their success is made of, and what their happiness is made by, without actually asking any of them. It's conceptual though, right? Sugar and Spines. And you can't say it's sexist because it's written by a woman called Judith Wills, who later became the food correspondent for the Daily Express. Oh, well, there you go then. Editor of Slimmer magazine. Uh, an author of the books, The Diet Bible, the Omega Diet, six ways to lose a stone in six weeks.

And Judith Wills is Slimmer's cookbook. Right. No stranger to Rive Eater, this girl. No, fuck no. Go on, Judith. Treat yourself. Put some cottage cheese on it. Anyway, this feature, sugar and spice.

First off, we learned that the lovely, lovely actress Judy Gieson is made of the very heart of England. Hair, the colour of corn, and eyes like cornflowers. Of the energy that is a zest for living. Of a five-foot-three-inch slim-line figure that we all envy. Oh, Judith, you and your wend. one-track mind. I thought we're going to say eyes like corn flakes for a second.

And apparently Judy Gieson's success is made of a training at the Corona Stage School in London. She passed the physical. From being pretty and acting better than the others. See, that's the kind of insight you get from the author of Six Ways to Lose a Stone in six weeks. although a human brain only weighs about three pounds I guess that can't be the explanation whatever this piece might suggest other girls who've made it right to the top

include the nation's sweetheart Silla Black who we learn is made of the essence of Liverpool the cavern the Mersey and some other things I've heard of but also said she's also made of the tough and the poor of spindle legs and arms.

Fucking out. And a raucous laugh that sets the world smiling. Oh God, yeah. Apparently Silla Black's happiness is made of being skinny and making people happy. Maybe someone should write some books which might possibly help other girls

attain that special happiness which only comes from having spindle legs and arms. Yeah. It's just a thought, Judith, and the fab two-eight millions finally dry up. Anyway, look, pale blonde girls

may be slightly overrepresented in Judith's feminist wonder world, but she is not, as they used to say, prejudice. Or even racialist. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Because Diana Ross is also included in this list. So

whatever else you can say about this article, no accusations of blundering racism here. Good. So her entry begins. Diana Ross is made of milk chocolate. Oh, fuck it out. And brown sugar.

Chocolate eyes and hair, chocolate skin, and a rich chocolate voice. Now, a charitable reading would be that Judith has entered a state of psychosis from the drudgeon. of munching on celery sticks, dipped in gold sloth,

slices a nimble with a crust calf, and has just become obsessed with the thought of chocolate. So let's just pass over that and read on and discover what Diana Ross's happiness is made of. Diana Ross's happiness is made from being loved, from being black. Yeah. She wakes up every day, looks down at her hands,

goes, yes, get in. From her home in in L.A., from playing tennis and basketball, from knowing she helped an unknown group to world fame. Jackson 5, who she discovered in 1968, which is, of course, a myth

put about by Barry Gouldy, who actually discovered them. And if Judith Wills, who is still alive, happens to be listening, I'm so sorry. And if you ever do a podcast, presumably about slimming. Please don't read out any articles

that I wrote in 10 minutes decades ago to which time has not been kind. Or I'll come round your house and eat cream cakes in front of you while saying, I just don't understand it. I can eat and eat and eat and I just never put any weight on. Munching on a dairy milk saying,

oh, that reminds me. What's your favourite Supreme single? You said it, Judith. You fucking. said it. Judith Will's also wrote a couple of other articles in this annual actually. There's one called Four Beautiful Seasons, which tells girls what to do in each season of the year. And in case you're interested, that is summer, tanning, autumn, skin protection, winter, the party season, and spring slimming.

People often look back at pictures of film with the early 70s and go, oh look, everyone's so slim, aren't they? And some people put that down to the lack of processed foods or the fact that people used to walk more. But I think really it was just because they had Judith Will's bearing down on them just relentlessly and tirelessly. But, you know, whatever work. So I'm still waiting, but spend four weeks at number one

before it was deposed by Haygo. Don't bother me. That's kind of poetic, isn't it? Like the times are saying, look, Diana, just fuck off. I don't fancy you. It would sell over 420,000 copies over here, making it the biggest selling Motown single in the UK.

A record it would hold for seven years until it was topped by, three times a lady by the Commodores. The follow-up, surrender, would get to number 10 in November, and she'd be a constant chart presence throughout the 70s and 80s, but she'd have to wait 15 years

for her next number one with chain reaction in March of 1986. Once again alone, like a child without her blaming. Is that gorgeous? Bye, chill. That nearly caught us with her cameras on that one. I thought she was in midstream, though.

That's Diana Ross. Do you remember that a very beautiful number one? This gentleman here. has been dashing around with this, I've just got to burst it. Would it really upset you if I burst that? It wouldn't, would it? Oh, that's made my evening. Here comes the never-ending song of love from the new seekers.

I've got a never-ending love for you. From now on, that's all I want to do. Tony, who's clapping very gingerly, and has clearly missed the floor manager's countdown to this link, stands next to a youth sporting eight Aces hat with a balloon and pops it because he's a cunt. He then throws us into Never-ending Song of Love by the New Seekers. Formed in Melbourne in 1962,

the Seekers were the first Australian band to breach the UK and US charts, pulling down two number ones with I'll Never Find Another You and the Carnival is over, and four more top 10 hits, as well as winning the Australian of the Year award in 1967. A year later, however, lead singer Judith Durham announced she was leaving to start a solo career and their final performance was on a BBC special that July. But guitarist Keith Polga decided to stay in London and start a new,

recruiting a new band and lifting the Seeker's name. Although their first LP and single flopped when they came out in 1969, they were approached by Scottish television to make the TV show Finders Seekers, which was broadcast throughout the ITV network. Their next single, a cover of Melanys, Look What They've Done to My Song, Mar, went all the way to number 14 in America, but only managed to get to number 38 over here, and their next three singles did fuck all in the song,

the UK. But the next, this one, a cover of the Delaney and Bonnie LP track, which they didn't bother to release as a single over here, ripped through the charts in July, and would spend five weeks at number two, held off by Get It On, and I'm Still Waiting. And here they are, back in the studio. And chaps, I believe that this performance commences with one of the greatest camera crashes into the audience in the internet. entire history of top of the pot. It's fucking glorious, isn't it? Starts with a camera on a crane

which like swoops down and piles towards the stage as the kids clearly alarmed get out of the way like the Illinois Nazis and the Blues brothers. Yeah. It would have been great if there was just one kid he did like a Tiananmen Square.

Yes. Well, there is one who doesn't react, Taylor. It's that girl in Tony's Diana Rossling who just stands there holding a yourself like the girls in the herring screws you up atvers. Still traumatised over Tony calling her a grotesely fat pig. Poor girl. It takes a while to recover from a face-to-face encounter

with the enchanting child star Tony Blackburn. It's such a... I'm just going about... I mean, you know, after initially starting out with this kind of veneer of bland ingratiation, Tony Blackburn, yeah, first of all, the fat-shaving. And then what does it say about his mentality's mindset, that he sort of resists the urge to pop a balloon? Perhaps this is what he would do with all these parts of parties that he hated.

You know, just wander around on his own, not talk to anybody, just like pop up all the balloons he could with his cigarette end. Did you leave Tony or were you asked to go? Give this choker a wood shampoo. But anyway, chaps, as it's still the 27th of December, them annuals are going to be the freshest coinage of the day, aren't there? Sadly, there's not much in the way of pop annuals just yet. Music Star hasn't happened.

But I do have in my hands the very same 1970s. two fab 208 annual that Taylor has. Oh, what an artifact it is. A very fetching jigsaw design on the cover, prominently featuring the Jackson 5, Paul Newman, the Osmans and Cliff, with smaller picks of Robert Plant, George Best, Lulu, Er, and Captain Kirk.

And yeah, after the most difficult picture quiz ever, which is two pages of front doors, with an invitation to guess which pop star lives there. How the fuck are you supposed to know that? But after that, you get to a, this book belongs to page. And this year they've actually done it as a questionnaire. And fortunately, mine's been filled in. I'm not going to give a name out.

But I think this is a glorious insight to the mind of the youth of 1971. So my name is redacted. And I was born on the 13th day in the month of Feb in 1957 in the town of Middlesex in the county of Islington, in the country of London. I now live at 34 Bellingham Walk in the town of Reading. I am blank feet and blank inches tall. My hair is blank, my eyes brown. My mum's name is Shirley Ann, my dad's Albert Charles. My first school was Cales Grove infants, and I have since attended high-down school.

I work as sales assistant. My own special interests are pop animals, no comma, so she just likes pop animals. Popping animals. People like that. She works. She works as a sales assistant. She's 14. Children are actually useful in those days, days.

Like now, he's sit around on their phones and all that. My favourite group is New Seekers. And the most super personality on the scene is Steve McQueen. The most handsome film stars, she's put an S at the end of star, in the world is Elvis, Paul, Rob, I assume Paul Newman and Robert Redford, or it could be, I don't know,

could be Paul Henry out of crossroads and Rob. Rob Alford. and the most beautiful Elvis Presley. The best DJ on Radio 1 is Jimmy Savile. Of course. On swinging looks, left blank. My first boyfriend was called Kevin Purse, and my ideal man is six feet zero inches tall with brown hair and brown eyes.

I hope to marry at the age of 18 and have two super children one boy and one girl. This is my private book. Not any longer, duck. Signed and sealed on the 25th day of December, 1971. There you go. I did a bit of Facebook stalking. I believe I found her.

There was one photo of her with a tarantula in her hand, which, since I'm terrified of tarantulas and saw my first one only earlier this year, I salute her for that. I couldn't do that. I hope she's still with us and doing well. Thank you, Doug. Thanks for the annual.

So, yeah, somebody likes the new seekers, but not me. No. Bring back the old seekers, that's what I say. But alas, the carnival is over. Yeah. But they are the giant shoulders that guys and dolls will be standing upon in the near future. And to my mind, this really is the sound of the six-fenties. You know, a repackaging of the hippie ideal for pub sing-alongs, don't you think?

Yeah. Yeah, that's probably true. It does have a hippie element feeding into it. Yeah. So I'd have come back in, sweating, and like five, three or four minutes playing football while Diana Ross was on. Clock this and say, oh, fucking hell.

And turn right, how he said, don't you use language like that. Sorry, Grandad. Yeah. Yeah, I don't know what they're meant to be seeking. But if by any chance it's a huge pile of shit, then stop seeking. You're there.

It's got that kind of surreal quality of a kind of extinct kits. You know, it's sterilised. It's starched. It's a world of K's catalogue and Tupperware parties. But as you say, with this kind of wide-eyed sort of, it named idealism, you know, sort of an ear of all of that going on. But I just think there's probably not a person alive left in the world who would listen to this today. Probably not even our sales assistant frame. Out of choice. Yeah.

I just think it's an extinct music. Yeah, it is, isn't it? David, do you remember that advert for us deodorant round about this time? No, I didn't really bother too much with deodorant when I was nine. and in the north. No, David. Wash once a week, whether they needed it or not.

But there was an advert round about this time for us, deodron, which of course was unisex, which was very much the style of the day. Yeah, yeah, it's ringing about. And it featured a group singing a song called You're OK with us, you're okay with us.

Yeah, practically the new seekers. In fact, I'd be very surprised if it wasn't the new seekers. Yeah. But that's what they're doing. It's the Partridge family, but with a bit more hair in the groin.

area. There they are, slapping in the guitars in their Kings Road Finery and washed. Probably already had a shower fitted in their pads as it's ecological, isn't it? Man. Yeah, they're a weird bunch. The bassist looks like Julian Cope

after electroshock therapy. This big, vacant, wide-mouth grid. Are these Jesus people again? Because as soon as I saw them... I don't think so. They're groovy, sexless right the god alarm went off again and the schlager sound it's it's it's like jesus umpah in it it's it's like the upbeat interlude on stars on sunday yeah jess yates tapping her toe it's yeah they're

not even cool enough for c u sunday you know that program no no or even the sunday gang yeah tell you touched upon c u sunday in the uh in the last episode of chommy's he tell us more wise man oh did i yeah it was a it was a it yeah it was a you It was a swinging, very ecumenical religious magazine program from the mid-70s, hosted by Alistair Piri, later of Rasmataz. Yes. It was like sort of a religious magazine show for heads. It was like a pious old grey whistle test.

In fact, shot in the same bare studio as whistle test. Yes. It tries to be sort of cool and broad-minded, like to the point of incoherence. They've got features on like, that's right, the children of God. That's how it came. Yes. And then they'll have some Muslim burlesque dancers or something. And then an interview with Greg Lake about his profound faith in full preterism or whatever, right?

It's an amazing program. Pure mid-seventh is confusion. What I like best about it is the theme tune that's got this wah-wah guitar on it. Like going to church is a bit like being shaft. Who's the Jewish private dick Who's a sex machine to all the chicks? Christ He's a complicated man

No one understands him But his father And it's co-hosted by this woman called Alex Dolphin Dolphin, yes That's almost up there with Gary Gibbon Isn't it? And once again, disappointed

Oh, you're not an aquatic mammal, are you? You're just a woman Looking through Gary Gibbon's eyes. At the start of the series, Alex Dolphin looks like she's running a church jumble sale. She's just this pure, nice, sweet, C of E Frump, you know, old before her time. And then in the last episode, she's wearing a low-cut burgundy velvet smock with a giant silver crucifix and loads of makeup. So some things clearly happened and we never get to. to find out what?

If there'd been another series, she'd have come on in a latex nunn outfit. Dave Hill. Rogering Alastairi with a goat horn. It's all on YouTube this. I don't know if it is. Dark web. Yeah, I'm still looking for the clowns for Christ of Nottingham.

You used to go around Nottingham and the Clown Gate telling everyone about Jesus. I've seen it on BBC Genome, but I just can't get to it. I can't find it, man. I'm desperate to. Have a word with me after the show up. I might be able to sort you out. And this is better than talking about the new seekers, isn't it? Because the thing is, as a critic, this stuff just stops you short

because it's barely even music. So it's really hard to judge it. But a while ago, I was watching Miss Yorkshire Television, 1985. And one of the contestants was a beauty therapist. Well, I mean, probably more than one was. let's face it, but I don't remember the others. She was being interviewed, and they asked her why she liked being a beauty therapist,

because that's the sort of probing interview you get on Miss Yorkshire Television, 1985. And she said, I really want to tell people what they're doing wrong. And that's not why anyone becomes a critic in the first place, but it is a part of it. And it should be. Because who else can you take advice from?

But lonely, crepuscular figures living insecurely in tiny rented rooms, right? Because you know who's best at telling you what you're doing wrong, losers. Because people who succeed in life only know their own story in which they're the hero. So they assume that if everyone else just does the same things that they did, it would be champagne all round. Because they're oblivious because they understand nothing about. failure, whereas I can tell everyone precisely where they're going wrong because I'm a fucking expert. You know, like people often ask me how to fail. And I say, well, it's easy when you know how.

And it's even easier when you don't. But here are some rules of thumb. Don't work too hard for no pay. Never degrade yourself by schmoozing. Don't be a scummy, sharp elbow prick. avoid compromise and make sure you're not in the right place at the right time a good way to achieve the latter is to stay away from cunts and the people say oh thank you i'll forget all that advice

and grab old of the first shitty train that passes by and hang on for dear life while my pockets fill with gold and i never see them again and you know what i say good luck to them Well, I know that, you know, as the chronicler of Crout Rock, that The Onion got it right when they said that rock music is the one example of where the history is written by the loser. Oh, shit, that's me. Ah! Oh, well, never mind.

I've had fun along the way. Well, look on the bright side, the entire series of Alan Bennett's on the margin has been wiped, never to be seen again. But we've still got the new seekers on top of the pops, stick it up your exit wound, or whatever this song's called, intact for future generation.

I mean, the new seekers, they came and went really quickly. By the time I got to the point of my life where I could remember things, the only thing I can remember about the new seekers is seeing them on Crackerjack around a pinball table doing their cover of Pinball Wizard.

And for years afterwards, I thought Pinball Wizard was a new Seeker song. Not even an Elton John song. I thought the new seekers had written Pinball Wizard. And it was like, Pimball's fucking skill So it's like Oh God, they're all right

They made it a new seeker Yes, they did In fairness The things they did They did come back later Like in I think the late 70s Because my dad Who bought about one record a year

Yeah Had a single by the new seekers Did he? Yeah, from much later on They returned like COVID Like mutated With a slightly different lineup

And a slightly different sound The one that he had Was called anthem brackets one day and every week, which is an a cappella record until the horrible drums come in at the end, which is why my dad liked it, because he liked anything that had just voices on it. He went on to buy only you by the flying pickets.

Right. So I went to YouTube and I listened to it again, and I was crestfallen because one of the first lines in it goes, She's living a life of luxury. Tuesday's a cottage by the seat. But for my entire childhood, because of our crappy speakers on our record player, I thought that when she's living a life of luxury,

Tuesday's cottage pie for tea. So whenever we had cottage pie for tea, I used to think, fuck, we're living like royalty. And I never learnt otherwise because he left the single in his car in the summer and it warped. And nothing sounds worse. warped than an a cappella records

that never got played again and it's not one you hear very often on the radio or TV so I never heard it again Why do people leave records in cars man? Yeah people didn't understand One thing that breaks my art like David Cassidy seeing a bird with a broken

wing is seeing CDs and especially vinyl that's been lobbed out in the street I just see it and just go oh man someone loved that one and it's been chucked out but I'm going to say it would be even worse to see vinyl warping in the back of the car. You know what I mean?

I'd think, well, what you've done that for, mate? You know what's going to happen? What's the story? Unless it was actually, what's the story, Mord and Glory, by Oasis, in which case, you know. Yeah, well, in that case, yeah. Just cut down a nearby tree removing any shade just to make absolutely sure. I mean, if it was something decent or real, like, say, I don't know, a mint copy of lost punk rockers, I think I'd have to smash at least one window

and then stand there and wait for the owner to come back and claim my reward for being a responsible citizen. So, never-ending song of Love would shift over 421,000 copies over here, the eighth best-selling single of the year, one above I'm still waiting, one below the push-bike song by the mixtures. The next single, Tonight, was originally written for them by Roy Wood, but when he decided to nick it back for the move's first single on Harvest,

he got the hit with it. And their next single, good old-fashioned music, only got to number 54. But they finished the year by glomming onto the jingle for the new Coca-Cola advert. Put out, I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing, which sold 96,000 copies in one day on its release in December. It's currently at number four in the new chart that came out yesterday. week will smash a coat buckle into Ernie's face and begin a four-week run at number one. Fucking out, another guys and dolls thing, isn't it?

Doing a television advert. That's the new seekers, and that one was at number two for four weeks, and it just wouldn't go to that number one slot. The new one, though, it's going to go straight to the top. I predict that one. Right, this one was at number one for five weeks. Rod Stewart and Maggie May. Do you remember it?

Tony, surrounded by the youth, calls his shot on the next new seeker's single, a rare example of a top of the pop's presenter, actually being right. He then asks us if we remember a single that has been hammered non-stop on the radio for months, Maggie May by Ron. Stuart. Yeah, do you remember it? Yeah, Tony, I think people in Christmas

night in 771 probably will remember Maggie Maybor. Considering I wasn't even born and I remember it perfect. It's not like it was released in 1960s, is it? Do you remember this summer? We've covered little rabbit ass a timer two on chart music, but this is the single that brought him to the dance. He's actually been a solo artist since 1968 when he signed a solo deal with Mercury, but couldn't do anything in the studio and had to wait until previous contracts ran out. And when they did, he was tempted by Ron Wood to join him as the replacement for Steve Marriott

in the Small Faces, who changed their name to the Faces, so he divided his time between them and his solo career. While the Faces were ticking on and Garner in a reputation as the latest lad band, Stuart's solo career was a procession of cover versions that got nowhere near the chart. This single, his eighth, and the first written by Stuart himself about the woman he lost his virginity to, started life as a track on his third LP, every picture tells a story, and was put out in late July. But as the B-side of another cover, this time a version of Tim Hardin's reason to believe, possibly because his label Mercury thought radio stations wouldn't play something that lasted nearly six minutes.

But those radio stations didn't give a toss, flipped it, and after his debut performance on top of the pops in mid-August, it entered the charts at number 31, then leapt to number 19, and three weeks later it surged past Haygill, don't bother me, to plant a lion rampant flag, a top Ben Chartis.

So here's a repeat of the performance on October the 21st, with Rod doing a pre-record like the Rolling Stones, with the faces and a very special guest on mandolin and we'll get to that later and yes chaps this is in pretty much the number one slot in a average episode of Top of the Pops and I've got to say rightly so yeah yeah okay it's Bonnie Rod

from the wee clacken on the glen they call London hasty back to Archway Road and it's nice to have Rod Stewart and Tony Black burn on the same show because it provides a reminder that not everyone who's sexy is good looking and not everyone who's good looking is sexy. Like the start of this programme, they flash up a picture of rod unshaven and he looks like a raddish sculpture that started sprouting. But if you met someone who fucked him in 1971, your first thought would not be for God's

sake, why? Let's face it. No, I can see objectively. the merits for this track Maggie May or whatever but I just really always really dislike Rod Stewart intensely Even then? Yeah, yeah. Why? I found him very alienating because

of his hair, that short spike in it's on top, then long at the size, because I knew kids at school who were like that is perhaps a little bit further down the line and they always had names like Skinner and Stott and they always hung around with like the school bully and flank the school bully and it's horrible little spindly

The coat holders? Yeah, he just felt like their patron saint to me in some way. I just think he looks like the kind of the love spawn of Jimmy Savile There's a definite savallness There's a civility A civility, yeah, definitely a civility And then plus obviously he's crappy politics You know, he's taking tax exile and all that

And doing the Enoch type thing in the 70s like Eric Clapton These days, you know, he reckons we ought to give that fellow Farage a go You know, that's his current political analysis And his most popular work sailing baby Jail I just think for me they're just some of the worst records ever made certainly in my world anyway. I can actually objectively see the merits of Maggie May but only begrudgingly.

Yeah, I mean, this might not be the best single of 1971, but it's fucking close. And personally, I love everything about this record. I love the unique sound of it. I love the vivid scenario. I love the semi-authentic representation of a world that I was born into,

but never really got to experience because I was too fucking weird. This rough-assed Saturday night world of, you know, pro-romance and all that stuff, like hard men and harder women. Lads going to their dads for relationship advice, you know, fixing the car on Saturday morning, right? I missed all that, all the joy of it

and all the reassuring limitations. I couldn't live there, and I wasn't allowed to. This Rod Stewart world where we're loving, and sex is enough for you, you know, even when it hurts. Yeah, I feel exactly the same way, actually. He represented a kind of masculinity, a sort of community, a sort of outlook, a sort of ladishness that he could never feel part of and just felt very, you know, distant from. Yeah, but I always knew that it was preferable to always running after the expanding edge of your own imagination

and never reaching it, you know, like a dog chasing trains and ending up here. There you go. But, I mean, Rod, who was not a genius lyricist, but he was a decent one. He was literate and he made an effort. He had a real knack for writing about that life, like a post-war British Saturday night fever. Yeah. You know. And even when he already started making money and living the high life, he's kind of believable in that.

It's only when you get to the white suits and Brit Eclan and champagne on the QE2 version of Rod Stewart, that it starts to sound like. stick. Yeah. I mean, you're right about the vividness, Taylor, because lyrically, this is, it's essentially an episode of play for today on a single, isn't it? Yeah, yeah. Or a heterosexual version of the killing of Sister George with Rod as childy. Yeah. It's really strange to see Rod in the role of the younger partner in a couple, but a great story nonetheless, even though it's not exactly true. A quote from his autobiography, At 16, I went to the Buley Jazz Festival in the new forest.

I'd snuck in with some mates via an overflow sewage pipe. And there, on a secluded patch of grass, I lost my not remotely prized virginity with an older and larger woman who came on to me very strongly in the beer tent. How much older, I can't tell you, but old enough to be highly disappointed by the brevity of the experience, which lasted about three seconds and left a stain. And when pressed about this woman in an interview a few years later,

all he would say was, she was a big girl, a big girl, she was a big girl, period, which is all very whole lot of rosy. I'm sure she was delighted to read his memories of that occasion. It's a great song and it's a great lyric as well, isn't it? Although his career options aren't very good, are they? heard worse, scrape a living writing for Melody Maker and it's dying days. Yes. Fucking out.

Yeah, but Nicking your dad's cue and making a living out of plain pool. No, Rod, no, get into Snooka and just bide your time for about 10 years. You could be the next Ray Rid and in your leopard skin dinner jacket. You could be the subject of the largest ever audience on BBC 2. But anyway, the performance. It's very similar to the Rolling Stone. one, they've done it in seclusion with no kids lying about, clearly just spilled out of the pub. Yeah, a bit too clearly.

And we've obviously got to talk about the special guest on Mandolin, John Peel. As we've already pointed out, it was written and played by Ray Jackson of Lindisfarne, but there's been ructions, I'm afraid. Rod would only pay him a session fee, which led to Jackson suing in for royalties, which led to Rod writing, The Mandolin was played by the Mandolin. player in Lindisfarne, the name slips my mind in the sleeve notes for every picture tells a story. So, yes. Gracious as Evan. I think that probably, I just wonder, John Peel might have been just about as recognisable as Elton John at this point. Well, yes, yes.

But it's interesting to see what Mark Boland would have thought his old mate who he's turned his back on appearing on top of the pops for the end song. Yeah, with a hairstyle that makes him look like he's searching for the holy grey. wearing a gauntlet and waving a goblet. Yes. Was it musicians union rules or something? You had to have someone on stage miming the mandolin and Ray Jackson just would not answer the phone.

Or he was otherwise engaged in the courts trying to prove legal ownership of fog. Well, Peel had been a champion of rod since 1967 but he was banging to the faces. He fucking loved them and actually jumped back on the wagons. with them from 1970 onwards. He forgot on alcohol for years. But, you know, when Ron Wood's

lining the drinks up, man, you've got to get involved. So when they were pencilled in for a studio performance for this, I don't know whether they had to have someone playing the mandolin or not, but Rod Stewart insisted that the mandolin should be played by John Peel. And that caused a huge mind with the musicians union, which only abated

when Peel guaranteed them that he wasn't being paid for the appearances. Yeah. And as well as that, Rod had got wind that the camera crew had been instructed to keep John Peel out of shot for the entire performance. Because he was still persona non-grata on BBC television after his doomed attempt to present Top of the Pops in 1968. So Rod responded by getting as close to Peel as possible, even leaning over him at some point. So he'd being shot. And that could be the reason for that bit in the middle where Ron Wood nips.

off and gets a plastic football from behind one of the flats and they have a bit of a kickabout on the stage. I mean, because that again is sort of to become like on, the impingement of like football quite literally here. Yes. You know, that merging of a sort of laddish terrorist culture. I mean, you know, you mentioned Mark Bowen. I doubt that Mark Bowen ever kicked a football in his life.

I'd actually like to think not. I don't necessarily want, I love music. I love football. I don't necessarily want my pop heroes to be sleeping into football. I'm quite happy, you know, for them not. to give a shit about football. Fine if they are, fine if they're not, I can take it or leave it.

But certainly, Rod Stewart was clearly very much into his football as was John Peel, who, I mean, although it was slightly premature maybe in some respects because John Peel would always talk

about how you insist at Reading Festival on reading out the football results. Yes. And it always get barracks and shouted down. But then that all changed in the 90s. Obviously, because it's the early 70s, it's a Telstar ball, which is a fucking beautiful design.

And I weigh. that it's a frido, you know, fresh from the garage. It's got that garage football likeness about it when they ping it about. Not very well, I have to say. Yeah. They're not very good footballers. Ron Wood, you could have just clattered the fuck out. Well, yeah, true.

True. It never stopped George Beck. It's very bloke's coming out of the pub coming across a kid's football game and taking it over. Bybe, isn't it? What's best, chaps, Telstar or Tango? Tellstar. Really? Oh, yes.

No, it's not even in question. Yeah, I think I'll go with Telstar, yeah. Have you ever seen the bad weather Telstar? Like the orange one? Oh, yes. With the black, oh, God, yeah. It's the most beautiful object. But yeah, it's a big year for John Peel.

He's not in the John Peel slot just yet, because that's being handled by Radio 2. But he dominates the weekends on Radio 1. He does top gear on Saturday afternoons, his own slot on Sunday evenings, and is a regular presenter of Sounds of the 70s in midweek. And never mind Mark Boland, Tony Blackburn must have been hugely fucked off at the sight of John Peel hogging the camera,

as their rivalry was his absolute pinnacle in 1971. They spent the past four years seeing each other as the absolute personification of the worst elements of Radio One and sniped at each other at any chance they got. And that reached a peak in April when Peel handed over to Blackburn, who had spent the past week in at Radio One sitting on rubber rings, what with his hemorrhoids, by playing a snatch of chop, chop, chop,

which, as we'll recall, he's not allowed to do on Radio One until it's a hit, and it wasn't. And then he said, Tony B with piles of former and future hits. Take it away, Tony. Yeah, there was definitely a lot of waspishness, and they get the impression that there were kind of polar opposites within Radio 1, and still, yeah, the late 70s, there's a lot of recrimination, especially when Tony Blackburn had just sort of become this

signifier of a complete banality by gurgling banality by this point. But they did. Oh yeah. Yeah, John Pee later on he said, actually, you know, he's got a decent sense of irony as Tony Blackburn. And I think he also appreciates that one thing about Tony Blackburn, unlike, say, David Travis, is that he was a genuine lover of music. Actually, David, I can pinpoint the exact moment that John Peele changes his opinion of Tony Blackburn. In the Simon Garfield book, the nation's favourite, which is mainly about the Bannister reformations, John Peele was talking about having to do the Radio One Road Show one week in the late 70s, and he said it did have its compensations.

Perhaps the finest moment for me took place in Birmingham in something called the Dickens Bar, lots of dark wood booze full of people who no doubt travelled around the country selling Dickens bars to each other. Tony Blackburn got up with Paul Williams, a radio one producer who played the piano reasonably well, and sang for half an hour. There was massive indifference to his efforts, if not downright hostility. Yet he went through the whole thing

as if he was Barry Manilow at the Copacabana, as if everyone was absolutely adoring everything he did. He soared in my estimation after that. I thought, He's not such a tosser after all. Because it's only about a year or so earlier. He'd seen him riding back in a speedboat with a one more. And I think that just defined the serality, as it were,

of the whole Radio One culture at that time. It's a decent performance of this. I could do without the kicking a football around. It's just, you know, come on, fucking old lads. And, you know, they look all right. It's funny. Rod's always got a scarf on. Yeah.

He's always got something wrapped around his neck. All them love bites, mate. It's like he once got his throat cut but survived. You know what I mean? The only thing that's slightly sad about this clip, because it's the faces in this clip, right? And this is not a faces record. People assume that it is partly because of this clip being shown so often.

But it's not. It's a Rod Stewart's solo record. It's got Ron Wood playing guitar on it and Ian McClagon on organ. That's it. The real hero, of this record and the great lost talent of this period of Rod Stewart's career is Martin Quittenton

who nobody's ever heard of he's the one I've always been fascinated by he plays the other guitar on Maggie Mae and he also wrote the music and then he did the same again on You Wear It Well a year later and then effectively disappeared for the rest of his life

and it wasn't to live off the royalties like cackling with his feet up on a poof It was because he was a very insecure, mentally ill bloke, who just like animals and plants and being on his own. And he turned down Rod's offer to join the faces and work full-time with him. And instead spent most of his life struggling with eating disorders, which is apparently what finally killed him.

And I can't help finding people like this a bit more intriguing than the hellraises sometimes, you know. As people, even if the actual... story of their lives might be less interesting because three quarters of it will be empty space, as tends to be the case with introverted mentally ill people. But yeah, he was one of the great mysterious, classically trained pop guitarists who appeared and abruptly disappeared, along with the Morris D Bank of Feltz and Lawrence Juba of wings. Other than that, it's really nice. Apart from the preponderance of lemon yellow, crimson and grey,

which must have been the in colours in 1971. Again, black and white TV was such a mercy. Yeah, even with Peel looking awkward, playing the mandolin just because it cannot be missing on the stage. Although nobody was made to mime the bass on the Slade record when Jim Lee was playing the violin. It was a bass on that record. Dave Hill would play it live, I think.

But nobody was miming it. So I guess bass was one of the invisible instruments as far as early 70s audience. People knew it was there, but they didn't really notice it, so they weren't looking for it, unlike the mandolin, which is a bit more of an attention-seeking instrument. Speaking of missing things, what always fascinates me about Maggie May, this record contains the strangest musical illusion that I can think of. On the last verse, they bring in what I think is a road to electric piano.

just going, this little chiming noise like a xylophone on every chord change. So it just goes, d'ing, d'ling, right, d'ing. And it's turned up so high that it's almost the loudest thing in the entire mix. And yet you can go 40 years without even noticing that it's there. This is creative production. It's the stuff you don't hear is doing half the work. And all the early 70s, Rod Stewart records, the secret of why they're so good

is they've got this strange production with a mix that is spatially baffling. They all sound really loud and really quiet at the same time because nothing ever peaks. It's all on this very flat level, totally muffled, but really punchy. It's all mid-range frequencies, right? Like the opposite of my horrible voice

with the scooped-out mid-range, which is all low frequencies and high frequencies. Rod Stewart Records are all what's missing. It's that warm, reassuring middle, the sort of umami, like the most pleasant part of the sound spectrum. And that's all you can hear on this. And the reason it works is because it framed Rod's voice perfectly,

because the most curious characteristic of his voice is it is simultaneously loud and quiet at the same time. It's really powerful and well-projected. and it's so croaky and horse that he's barely making a sound. So when you set that in a musical landscape, where all the other instruments are like that too, the effect is really interesting. And it's a really distinctive sound

that's radically unlike any other records ever, but certainly any records being made today. And the problems begin for Rod Stewart when his records stop sounding like that. And he switches to, a more commercial mid-70s production and all the magic drains away. And suddenly he's just another shouting man who sounds like he's just eating a ship in a bottle with some stomping rockers in the background.

And I lose interest a bit. But this sound, which he stuck to for about three years, was perfect for him. Just maybe, I guess, a bit less perfect for large-scale American mainstream success. Yeah, yeah. It's funny we're talking about the invisible instrument. like the bass. My ex-wife could never recognise bass on a record when she heard it. You know, like a chic record, you know, like do, do, do, no, couldn't pick it out. It was just a body of sound. And the idea of picking out individual instruments, particularly the bass, she couldn't do it.

I'm sort of jealous of people like that, though, where music is just magic to them. It's just like a magic spell. It's the downside of playing musical instruments is that you can hear what's going on in things. Yeah. So Maggie May would spend five weeks at number one, eventually giving way to Cuzz I Love You by Slade. It would sell over 615,000 copies and finish the year as the second biggest single in the UK in 1971, one below my sweet lord, one above, chirpy, chirpy cheap, cheap.

As a matter of fact, it's still in the charts this week at number 35. The success of the single, which also got to number one in America, would propel every picture tells the story to number one in the album chart in late September and would stay there for six non-consecutive weeks. Meanwhile, Rod spent the rest of the year working on the face as LPA and nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse, nudie poster insert and all, and they're currently at number 43 in the single chart this week with stay with me. But he roared back with his follow-up solo single,

You Wear It Well, which got to number one for a week in August, in 1972, and then it was leopard print trousers and blondes all the way through the rest of the 70s. Back in our West I never go. Thank you very much for watching. I hope that you have enjoyed the show. Enjoy the rest of the Christmas holiday and be back with us on Thursday for another edition of Top of the Puff. See you then. Bye-bye. Tony, who appears to be thinking very hard about swinging his microphone about like Roger Daltre,

holds back his urges, tells us that he hopes we've enjoyed the show and that we had a nice Christmas. Fucking hell, stop talking about Christmas, Tony. It's 1971. It's done, mate. And tells us there's another episode coming up in three days' time. And Taylor, I do believe it's the one that you claim is the worst Top of the Pops episode of all time. Do you know the one I mean? Oh yeah, Ed Stewart. Yes. Introducing Val Duna-Koo.

Yes. And the theme from the Anedin line. Yeah, it's incredible. Tony Christie, is this the way to Amarillo? Congregation, softly whispering, I love you. Sleepy Shores by the Johnny Pearson Orchestra. The News Seekers again with I'd like to teach the world to sing. I want to go back there again by B.J. Arnau.

Oh, fucking mother of mind by Neil Reed. Jesus. Stoney end by Barbara Streisand, mourning by Val Dundikin, the number one which is still Benny Hill, and finally, pans people dancing to Jeepster. Thank God it is the 70s after all. Fucking, or a wall-to-wall, M-O-R.

Granny's all over the country stamping their slippers and screaming, what the fuck is this? When's they're wrestling on? And we conclude with the kids mugging and a frugging as the credits roll. Yeah, it's quite intriguing. I mean, not just this kind of virtuoso array of fonts

and this backdrop of skiing. Martini advert again. Yeah, it's almost like the light entertainment department don't quite yet conceive of pop music as a sort of distinct entity, but it's just one of a range of leisure options. You know, after you've been to the pictures, perhaps you could go out to an Indian curry house

and then perhaps go on to the discotheque. You know, it's almost like that. It's just one of like multiple things. It's very odd. They don't quite, even now in 1971, it's like they don't quite grasp the culture. No. Although this is basically the scene that every London indie nightclub that thinks it's summer has been trying to recreate since 1992.

Like they would have had old stock footage of a downill skier up on a massive green screen behind the dancers too if they could. The one I really feel sorry for is the woman who turns round sees Tony Blackwell. bird is right next to her, looks overjoyed, and then he immediately bumps into her and knocks her backwards off the podium. Yeah. That went out on telly at Christmas, like presumably her one and only television appearance, seen by 14 million people. Nice for her. I piss ripped out of her at every family gathering for the next 20 years. Yeah. You do always think about that, these kids that get interviewed. I guess that's the kind of the great thing about it. In some respect, they maybe think they kind of hit the lottery.

But, you know, it's national exposure. Yes. Everybody will see them. You know, it's quite frightening, really. Well, I imagine if they did this nowadays, though. There'd be kids absolutely fighting with each other to get in front of the camera next to a celebrity. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Probably have their phones out as well. Yeah, kids pushing to the front, saying, like, if you've ever thought of starting a website,

Squarespace offers that, yeah, paid them 50 quid. We were shy back then. Very excited and very excited. But we're fundamentally shy. I think that's been lost. Tony, say, there's some lad. So, what did you think of that one? Well, Manscaped is the number one name in below the waist grooming.

And that closes the book on this episode of Top of the Pops. What's on telly afterwards? Well, BBC One kicks on with the news, and then Valerie Singleton, John Noakes and Peter Purvey. present Disney time. Disney time? Good Lord. Dixon of Doc Green has to look after an abandoned bay bear. Then it's a screen of a brand new hour long episode of Dad's Armour,

Battle of the Giants, where Captain Manoring gets shamed up for not having any medals. It is goaded into challenging the Eastgate platoon to a test of initiative. Fucking out, chaps. Imagine living in a world where there's a double-length brand new episode of Dad's Army that you haven't seen 48 times. Jesus, what a time to be alive. At 8 o'clock,

it's the TV premiere of Carry On Cowboy. Then Warren Mitchell and Rolf Harris joined Petula Clock for Petula and Friends. Yeah, yeah, Petula and Friends, right, her dear friends. Like, hey, Petula, why don't you have a nervous breakdown and see how many of them ring to check in on you?

I reckon the only one who'd pay a visit would be Rolf Harris. If all the others, you ring them up, they just turn their phone over, roll their eyes. So, oh God, it's but true. I'm not the time for this. Get on with the order. Ralph was the nicest of the nonces, wasn't it?

Yes. He really cared. After the news, Omnibus covers a life in times of Humphrey Bogart. Then it's the weather, and they close down at 25 to midnight. BBC 2 gives us abracadabra, a short cartoon about an evil magician who nicks the sun and the four kids who try to put it back.

Then the Canadian Children's Opera House, the National Ballet of Canada and the Toronto Symphony Orchestra do Hansel and Gretel. Afternoose on two, Horizon ripples through the Patents' Archive pulls out some of the maddest inventions of the last century and gets Heinz Wolf to create them. That's followed by 30 minutes. theatre with Sam Wannemaker in the Saul Bellow play,

A Whem. Pete Jewell and Ben Murphy have some myther with Sally Field in Aalius Smith and Jones, then it's Robert Robinson again in Corn My Bluff, and they round off the nights with the 1954 film Three Coins in the Fountain. ITV runs the pilot of It's Ken Goodwin, with the giggly mainstay of the comedians hosting his own show featuring Elaine Delmore and the Black Abbots, then it's the news and five minutes of Laurel and Harder. At six, Huey Green presents the Opportunity Nox Variety Club special. Then it's the Christmas episode of the Irene Handel and Wilfrid Pickle's sitcom for the love of Ada about the blossoming relationship between an old dear who lives with her daughter

and son-in-law and the grave-digger who buried her husband. Ken Barlow gets a new job at its deputy head in the local junior school and Annie Walker takes offence at actual Bernard Manning in Coronation Street. Then it's the 1955 Alfred Hitchcock film To Catch a Feat starring Carrie Grant and Grace Keller. Yeah, it's definitely that over Carry On Cowboy in my imaginary 1971 house, right? Carry on Cowboy, a lot of people disagree. I think bottom third of the Carry On Films.

much perkway. Right. Whereas this is one of Hitchcock's most lightweight films, but it is still Carrie Grant and Grace Kelly kissing in an open top car in the south of France, which is, I think, precisely the spiritual rehydration

you would need after Ashton Gardner and died. Or Bernard Manning in the Rover's return. Bernard Manning. Imagine if he was around now, I bet his Twitter would cause some consternation. After the news at 10, it's a special 60 minutes of music and comedy

in another Edward Woodward hour. No, not another one. I'm sorry to keep butting in, like Eddie Lodge, when you're trying to finish this so we can go home. Do your deputy dog impression, I'll fucking kill you. But have you ever seen the Edward Woodward hour? It's the worst idea that anyone in television ever had, except for a few ideas involving Jimmy Saville.

Look, I've not seen another Edward Woodward hour, but I've seen the Edward Woodward Hour. Edward was very famous at this point as the star of Callan, giving a like harrowingly brilliant performance every week as this terribly damaged human being trapped in his career as a spy and a government hitman, which is eroding his soul. He's a neurotic surrounded by psychopaths. And it's one of the greatest and, most subtle sustained performances in British television history.

And then suddenly he's hosting this hour-long family variety special. Yeah. Like introducing middle of the road singers. He performs in these comedy sketches that are like something the sales team put together for the works Christmas party. You know, and he does a bit of crooning, you know, all with his wig on. It's fucking miserable. It's like casting Ted Rogers as Macbeth.

That's followed by Dowager in Hot Pants, a documentary about the people and places of Hollywood, and they finish up with Outlook 72, which looks forward to possible developments in Rhodesia in the new year. So, boys, what are we talking about over the handlebars of our new bikes tonight? Because I love you, primarily. Get it on, you know, T-Rex. I'd be a bit averse

The stones because I think I was a bit scared of them still You know after the 969 trail Maybe I suppose Maggie May Yeah who was that dickhead on the mandolet Yeah What are we buying with our record tokens Because I love you

And that's it I don't know I mean if you knock off the supposedly New Seekers And Ashton Gardner Dyke Cuthbert Dibble and cock I'll have all of it

I'll have all of it Which is greedy but it's Christmas pre-oil crisis you know shovel it in I'm sorry I'm thinking in terms of like you know when it was nine now I'd obviously get the old T-Rex and stones and all that and what does this episode tell us

about 1971 Hot pants But it isn't in between you're in which he sense that nobody is quite certain what's about to happen what's going to happen next which direction things are going to go in Trement amount of uncertainty

I think the one certainty is that the 60s haven't just finished temporarily but spiritually. And, you know, we're just sort of entering into a slightly darker, browner, more, and I don't mean that in terms of skin pink vegetation. ERA, and I think that one's kind of in the dark

about what it's going to be about, where are we going? Yeah, whatever our privations and whatever the state of our hair at the back, we're living in a golden age of Western culture and nothing can possibly go wrong from here. And that, Pop Craigs. youngsters brings another episode of chart music to a close. Usual promotional flange.

www. www.chart dash music.co.com slash chart music podcast. Reach out to us on Twitter at Chart Music TOTP. Fuck off Elon Musk, you dirty bastard. Much better to reach out to us on Blue Sky at Chart Music TOTP. And of course, money down the G. string, patreon.com

slash sharp music. Tor very much, David Stubbs. Yeah, thank you all. God bless you, Taylor Parks. Day warm. My name's Al Needham and 2006. Get your stuff and

fuck off, you're already shit, mate. Charp music. Nowadays, when you think of radio, you've got to think, of course, of disc jockeys and record shows and all the rest. And I must be honest, I love to listen to record shows myself as long as the records they play happen to be mine.

There we go. Turn your radio on. Turn your radio on. Listen to the music that they play. Turn your radio on. Turn your radio on. Tune in each day. To a record show.

To a record show. Listen to a DJ you all know. Entertain everyone. Entertrain everyone. Turn your radio on. Turn your radio on. Turn your radio Listen to the music loud and clear

Turn your radio on Only blackburn live Telling you a joker four or five On radio on On radio one Turn and show Oh wasn't that fabulous There was David Hamilton

And Hattie Jake's singing a number called Strangers in the Night I remember the time that I made a record The record company took so long to release it The hole in the middle actually healed up Anyhow, we'd just like to apologise to the lady who last Monday sent in for the Jimmy Young recipe, and I don't know

how it happened, but by mistake, we sent her a knitting pattern. So far, we understand she has turned out a straw-re-moose with sleeves. Right, thank you go to the music, and here's the ladies from Val Buregarden. I recall... I'm totally sorry, we seem to have got it at the wrong speed. Let's see we can get it back for the right speed for you,

shall we? This will sound better, sure. I recall Oh, a gypsy woman. You know, I'm not so sure. I think I preferred at the other speed again. Turn your radio. Because upon the three DJs who have found our way to the bee.

Which one has to wake at the break of day? That's me. Me. Me. Chatting up housewives just suits us fine. Join me at seven I wake him at nine We play everyone's records

So why not mine Oh well that does it good I play all my favorites Like Elton John And Kiki My 2 o'clock winner At Kempton Park Came home at

3 We plug every pop star's latest song So we promise your next one Can't go wrong And it just so happens I brought it along That's it! I love it!

Tony Blackburn!