Chart Music: the Top Of The Pops Podcast - #78 (Pt 1): 16.2.78 – Paint Along With Nancy Spungeon

Episode Date: May 3, 2026

The return of the podcast that gets it’s hand right down the back of the settee of an episode of Top Of The Pops. Al Needham has a theory that, like World Cups, the TOTPs nearest to your tenth birthday are the sweetest, which is an excuse for him, David Stubbs and Simon Price to burrow into early ‘78. But before that, a leaf through that week’s NME, a look at what else was on telly, Any Other Business, and an argument about Emu…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 swear words. What do you like this to? Um, chart music. Chart music. You pop craze youngsters, and welcome to the latest episode of chart music. that gets its hands right down the back of the settee on a random episode at Top the Pops.

I'm your host, Al Needham, and standing with me today are Simon Price and David Stubbs. How do? Boys, the pop things and the interesting things. Tell me of them now! Right, well, since we last convened, I got invited on to your mate Tony Livesey, this show, yeah, on 5 Live, late one evening. I was basically asked on, and basically in my capacity as like Britain's leading authority on electronic music, probably Europe, actually, when I come to think of it. Why?

The peg being that it was Howard Jones's birthday or something. Oh, man, that's sacred day. They want me to pick out the best British electropop hits of the 1980s. Right. So I said, yeah, I have a think, you know, and I cogitated long and hard, whittled it down to a short list of 30. Any OMD? No, yeah, sorry.

A bit of an end joke there for readers of David's book. And no bloody Howard Jones either, you know. He can have his cake, but he can't eat it, you know. Poor Ho Joe. So I did that. So I whittled it down. Then he came back and said, yes, if you could just, um, wouldl it down just to a top five. Oh, fuck so.

So fucking hell. I had to then go through a process of murdering my babies. But anyway, I got it down to this five, and I just wondered how you would feel about this. So, number five, I had situation, Yazoo. Right, yeah. Number four, memorabilia, soft cell. Very strong. I guess all of this had that kind of linear quality, you know, that anticipates like what happens down the line with acid.

I don't know, maybe. Yeah, it's very acid, isn't it? Yeah. Number three, Japan, life in Tokyo. Now, that actually was recorded in 1979, but it was re-released and really became a sort of proper hit in the 1980s. And because it was also David Sylvian's birthday, I thought I'd better get it in. The 80s start in 79. I've always said that.

Yeah, well, exactly. Yeah, yeah. Now, at this point, unfortunately, the Zoom link that they'd sent me cut out. Oh, no. And wouldn't let me back in again. So I was just as soon as it's left hanging there. I think they probably had the list themselves anyway, but they'd have had to carry on without me.

So there are five live listeners still wondering how that top five would have concluded. So, you know, if there's any sort of Venn diagram crossover between listeners to that show and listeners to this podcast, which, given the presence of Al-Needham, you would hope there'll be a bit of a crossover. You certainly would. I think you should, you know, let them off their tenter hooks now, David. Anyway, number two, Human League, Love Action. Oh, yes.

Not high enough. Yeah, well, yeah. And number one, heaven 17, fascist group thing. Oh, because it's got it's got, it's got to be done, exactly. Yeah, yeah. So, yeah. Simon, I've put aside an hour for your update because it's been a while since you've been on chart music. Welcome back, sir. Oh, thank you. Tell us all the news. Yeah, I mean, I did chart music live, of course, but we don't do pop and interesting in that, do we? So, no, we don't. But we are popping interesting. We're just there being pop and being interesting. Very much so. Yeah, one thing I've been doing this last few months, last year, really. I've been spending a lot of time in Ireland promoting Curepedia

and doing spellbound DJ sets quite often while I'm over there. The Cure were actually bigger in Ireland than they were in the UK. If you look at chart positions. Were there now? Yeah, so it's quite a sort of rich seam of book buyers over there for me. When I go there in some

ways, it feels like being in a more civilised country. Or at least you know, Ireland being a country that is moving in a more civilised direction. unlike the UK which is actively sliding backwards, just by virtue of still being in the EU. I feel like this is when I go to any EU country.

I don't know if you get the same David and Al. Definitely, yeah, whenever I go to Belgium. I just feel like I'm breathing fresh air when I'm there just because of that, you know. But also Ireland, it's also a fucking mad place in so many ways. I love it, but it's insane. I was in this place called Kells for a literary festival. You might have heard of the book of Kells,

this sort of lavishly illustrated medieval Bible. So I was there for a literary festival called Hinterland. And in the space of one night over there, I met a victim of terrorism and a former terrorist. Fucking out. And this sort of thing just happens in Ireland. The former terrorist was actually Welsh and had been part of a failed plot to assassinate Prince Charles at his inauguration as Prince of Wales, Carnarvan Castle in the late 60s. All right. Then moved to Ireland to help the IRA.

And she, it was a she, came along. and dance to my DJ set. So, yeah. But the victim, yeah. So that's nice. Yeah. I mean, actually a really interesting person to talk to. Yeah.

The victim was actually a musician. A guy called Des Lee in his 70s, who was a former member of a group called the Miami Show Band. Oh, no way. Fucking out. Right. Oh, so you know about, okay, right. So hear me out here, right?

He was there promoting his book. My saxophone saved my life. And I met him over an Indian. meal, which was bought for us by the organisers. They just sort of sat us down randomly with other people who were there at the festival, so I was sat with him. And when he told me his story, you know, he said, what's your book about? I told him, and I said,

oh, what about yours? So he told me his story, and my jaw hit the fucking floor. I felt this massive imposter syndrome for my silly little book about the cure, you know? So first of all, the backstory, the culture of Irish show bands in itself, I think is really interesting. They were these massive cabaret groups. They, they, they'd typically have seven or eight members.

They'd wear matching suits and they'd have dance routines, sort of choreographed moves with their instruments. They'd mostly perform cover versions of international hits of the day because the big international stars rarely actually played in Ireland. We're talking about the 60s and 70s being the heyday these show bands. They're a bit like, I guess, wedding bands or cruise ship bands, but they became household names in their own right. The membership would often change, like the Sugar Babes, you know,

so there are no original members, but their name would just carry on. So this one group, the Miami show band, was so big. They were nicknamed the Irish Beatles at the time. They absolutely mobbed everywhere they went. And they would play long sets late at night for people to dance to in ballrooms instead of, you know, DJs in nightclubs. People would go and see these bands and dance to that instead.

And these bands, they played to mixed audiences, as in Protestant and Catholic in the North, which is hugely important, very ahead of its time. It was a way for people from both communities to mingle safely and let their hair down a bit. So the story is late one night in 1975, this group, the Miami Show Band, were driving home from a gig in Northern Ireland when they were stopped by a British Army checkpoint, right? Nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. They were asked to step out of the tour bus while soldiers went inside to do a search. Suddenly, there's this almighty explosion. The van is ripped to pieces and the musicians are thrown across a ditch into a field.

The soldiers were actually an Ulster volunteer force ambush, although some of them were indeed off-duty soldiers, such as the nature of things in Northern Ireland. And they were trying to plant a time bomb on the van to detonate when it reached the Republic. It was supposed to provoke the Republic into closing the border. That was the ultimate aim. And also, I guess, people in certain factions didn't like the idea of audiences from communities getting, together and all that sort of stuff. But the bomb went off early and it killed two of the terrorists instantly. The remaining terrorists chased the musicians across the field and opened fire, killing three of them, including the lead singer Fran O'Toole, who was being groomed as a kind of breakout solo star. He was being set up as the next David Cassidy or something like that.

Now, Des Lee, the guy I met, who was the saxophonist but also the band leader, he had to lie completely still in a ditch next to the corpse of one of his bandmates. pretend to be dead until the UVF had fucked off. So, like I said, not many laughs in this bit. So Des Lee is telling me all this over a curry in Kells. And I'm absolutely in shock, you know, at this point. And also, I'm ashamed that I haven't heard this story before. I'm a fucking music journalist with an interest in the 70s.

Why don't I know about the Miami Show Band Massacre? Why don't we? Why isn't it something that all British people know about? All Irish people do, you know, that's for sure. So when I got home, I pitched an article about it to The Guardian, and I went deep into a research rabbit hole about the extent of collusion between the British state and loyalist terror groups, much of it via a particular shady British intelligence officer called Robert Nyrak.

In fact, when Ken Livingston did his maiden speech in the Commons in about 87, I think it was, he used that speech to name and shame Nyrak. by then had been killed himself by Republicans, prompting Jeremy Paxman to open an interview by asking Livingston, why have you used your maiden speech to darken the name of a dead man? There's a Netflix documentary about it where you can see that clip, and if Paxman comes out of it, looking like an absolute cunt. Anyway, if you Google Simon Price, Guardian, Miami Show Band Massacre,

you'll find my article about it. And it's one of the most extraordinary subjects I've ever written. about. Normally when you tell the story about a band and the word tragedy or the word catastrophe gets bandied about, it just means the manager nicked all their money or someone's falling out with their mate or falling

out with their brother. This band actually got blown up by terrorists and you know it puts everything in perspective too much perspective too much fucking finally a laugh courtesy of spinal tap clearly it's a subject that you were aware of by your reaction. Well yeah

and no because yeah I do remember seeing it on the news and it did stick in my head, but only because of the name, you know, the Miami show band. I was seven at the time when all that happened and I thought, oh my God, are they killing Americans now? Is it, is it Casey and the Sunshine Band? But

yeah, you're right, Simon, when you're a kid growing up in the 70s and there's no one in your family involved in it, Northern Northern Ireland would just wash over you on the news day after day. Yeah. Wasn't until later when I moved to London and ended up talking to people who live there that I realized,

fucking out. I actually know 10% of what happened in Northern Ireland at best. Yeah, yeah, that's it. Yeah, you do. I mean, as a kid, you kind of, it's on the news and something bad's happened and you just sort of tune it out. It becomes like the sounds of Charlie Brown's teacher, like, wow, wow, you know, it really does. As a kid in England, Northern Ireland might as well have been Vietnam or Angola. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even when a bombing happened here, it was always in places like London or Birmingham, which also might as well have been Angola. Yeah, I mean, the news is telling you something bad's happened, but you don't really have any kind of context for it in your brain. No.

I've been getting obsessed with the whole subject of the troubles recently, partly because I spent some time over there. And I'd be reading the book Killing Thatcher by Rory Carroll, which is about the Brighton bombing, but also about the whole history of, you know, that I guess the Republican movement and Britain's involvement in Ireland and all of that. It's a phenomenal bit of work this book. It's a history book.

but it's written like a thrilling. It's a genuine page turner, which is rare, I would say, in the history genre. And also, I've been watching Blue Lights, I'll admit, you know, the BBC police drama series, yeah, set in Belfast. It's a bit like an Anglo-Irish version of The Wire. Not quite that good, but it's pretty good, you know.

I wonder if this incident would be better known if it'd been the IRA that had perpetrated it, is one thing. Yes, certainly. The other thing, it's like, you know, you talk about, like, you know, mixed crowds at these gigs, and I was like, because I went to Belfast, and I was talked to with Catholic, it's like, how do you know who's Protestant Catholic?

I mean, if it was a kind of racial thing, an apartheid in South Africa, and you've got a black and white audience, it's pretty obvious that it's mixed. But, you know, Protestant Catholics, it's just like, how do you say, oh, you just have to ask a few questions, which school did you go to? Yeah, yeah. And it's just like, I'll have to kind of wink it out that way in order to know whether they have to discriminate against them or whatever. But what I still know, I mean, I went to, it was 2000 when I went to visit at Velfast,

and, you know, the troubles were supposedly long over, drove out to the suburbs, and in particular areas the paving stones were either done in the tricolours or the union flag in this demarcate, you know, which was Catholic, which was Protestant area. It was still a very, very strongly felt thing and it was probably pretty bottom down as well. They were very tattie where some of the tenants flying above the houses. Did you tell this bloke sat next to you that you fought in the Brit Pop Wars though, Simon? Yeah, right, exactly. You just, you do, you just feel like such a fucking idiot.

You feel so trivial, you know, talking to somebody who's experienced that stuff. But yeah, like that book Killing Thatcher, there are names in it. Like he suddenly mentions Gerard Tewitt. And suddenly I just had this flashback to, you know, being about 14 or whatever. And that name being on the news because he was an IRA guy who'd escaped from Brickston Prison. And it's just, at the time, you know, again, it was just a wah, wah, a bit of the background. But suddenly it all gets coloured in. Now you're sort of grown up and taking interest in it.

And yeah, in the meantime, my comparatively silly little book about the cure, Qaupedia. This is my plug that I'm doing it has come out in paperback. The updated second edition which includes the songs of a lost world album

and all the sort of stuff since the first edition came out. There's also an Italian translation that's just come out published by Arcana, yeah, which feels very exciting because my previous book about the Manix didn't get translated anywhere.

And there's a Spanish version coming from Sixto Piso, earlier next year. So yeah, chow and olah to my Italian and Spanish readers. There you go. As for me, chaps,

well, Easter's been and gone and, you know, it does my head in how much I like Easter in my old age, you know, because back in the day,

Easter was just shaking Christmas, wasn't it? Yeah, you got a bit of chocolate and that was it. But nowadays, it's Christmas without all the depressing

shit that comes with it. And it comes and goes without much fuss. Your only responsibility to lob a bit of chocolate or some money at any kids in your life. And most importantly, it's an indication that winter has finally fucked off.

I'm not going to bang on about it as if I was Jacob Rees fucking mod. But no, fair go to you Easter. Christ is risen. Christ is risen. So it occurred to me, chaps. You know, why doesn't the pop world make a big deal out of the Easter number one

like they do with Christmas? Oh, yeah. So I did a bit of digging around and I have compiled the Easter number ones from 1970 to 1995. Would you mind? Go away? Nah, not bothered. No, yeah, go on. Hit the fucking music. 1970, bridge over troubled water, Simon and Garfunkel.

Yeah. 1971, hot love T-Rex. Incredible. Yeah. 1972, without you by Nielsen. I like it. 1973, tie a yellow ribbon by Tony Orlando and dawn. Fuck sake.

February to August. 1974, Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks. Oh my God. 1975, Bye, bye, baby by the Bay City Rollers. Slight improvement. Yeah.

176, save your kisses for me by the Brotherhood of Man. 1977 Knowing Me, Knowing You by Abba And we're back on track 1978 Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush Oh yes

1979 Bright Eyes by Art Garfunkel Well, topical I guess rabbits And all that 1980 Working my way back to you By the Detroit Spinners Yep

Great song 1981 Making your mind up, Bugs Fizz. Oh, well, it's that Eurovision time a year, isn't it? That's why we would have had one with a man. Yeah, yeah. 1984, my camera never lies, Bugs Fizz. Wow.

1983, let's dance, David Bower. 1984, hello, Lionel Richard. Yes, three. 1985, easy lover by Philip Bailey and Phil Collins. Banger. Yeah. Ninety-six. Living Dahl by Cliff Richard and the Young Ones.

Ninety-seven. La Isla Benita by Madonna. 1988. Hot by the Pet Shop Boys. Ninety-nine. Like a prayer by Madonna. Oh, again, topical for Easter. Yeah.

1990. Vogue by Madonna. Fucking how she's... Madonna's the Cliff Richard of East. Or the lad baby, but so are bucks Fis really. You look at it. Yeah. 1991, the one and only by Chesney Hawks. 1992, deeply dip air by right, said Fred.

1993, young at heart by the Bluebells. Ninety-four, everything changes by Take That. And 1995, back for good. By take that. And those were the Easter number ones. I'm looking at some merchandising opportunities there. Yes. Pet Shop boys obviously could have brought out chocolate hearts for heart.

Yes. Lionel Ritchie, a massive fucking sculpture of his head made in chocolate. Yes. Come on. I'd love to lick Lionel Rich's head at Easter. Even now, they would sell. Oh God, yeah. You couldn't make enough of them.

You wouldn't want to give your kids a bright-ey's Easter egg, though, would you? Fucking out. Like a lint bunny, but with his head. throat slit. Yes, yes. Fucking Combine Arvester or something. And a chocolate fist of pure emotion as well. Oh yeah.

Anyway, boys, before we plunge the fist into this episode, you know what we need to do first. We have to jump in all the pop craze youngsters who are doing work for the set by subscribing to us on Patreon. So let me give some thug love to the following brand new pop craze patrons. In the following,

$5 section we have Jack Pandemian Stephen Page Ian Kenny Sanderson Joseph Narwas Alex P Chris not my good arm

Evans CW Tim Ward Chris Dale Gary Mulcahy James Langen Johnny Holloway Mike South

Lee Swanick Mr Dumi Dwy Squire, Chris Kyle, Jerry Hillman, Ben Coleman, Richard Gibson, George White, Jonathan Hewitt, Jacqueline Hitchin, James Holmes, Tommy Mac, Jim Prentice, Dan Henley, Lucy McKenzie, Ian Sullivan, Sophie Merrer, Paul Gill, Dylan Todd, Saboa, Mark Cowan, Guy Coulson, Chris Jones, Anthony Fairclough and Dave Nichols. My God, I love all of you. And so say all of us. Yeah. It's always nice when you hear a name in there that you know.

So, hi to Joseph Nair was. Yeah. Not that we give a special shoutouts just because you throw money at us. We love you all, as I'll say. And in the $3 section, we have Ed Norman's. Steve Clark. Ian Williamson Paul Nicol

Chris Kyle Michelle Lyons Wilks Sean and Daniel Tomen Oh you're fucking beautiful too Do you know that You are You're just like two dollars less beautiful

Than the other guys But still you know Still kind of hard And as always If I've missed you out You either joined after We made this recording Or I've mislaid your name

So please give me a kick up this ass Kick this ass right here for a man, if you will, and I'll rectify it. Anyway, let's move on. David, let's discuss your pubic grooming regime, shall we? What the fuck? Do you have a tuppany all off, or are you wild and untamed, or do you go for a shape? How do you feel about the optical inch? I love...

And what aftercare regime do you go through? Well, we're all going. about. You see, what you just heard there, Pop Craze youngsters, it demeaned you, it demeaned David and it demeaned me. But that is what you'd have to listen to. Every fucking episode

if it wasn't for the Popcray's Patrons who've said, yes, chart music, we choose to invest in quality, handcrafted, oak-aged, artisan podcasting, because the world has heard enough horrific things this year without our fucking

need of ad into it by talking to his compatriots about the smoothness or other eyes of their ball bags. As long as Patrions there for us and the Pop Craig's Patrons who fill this G string will never have to do that sort of thing ever again. So give them a round of applause. That was a curveball, literally. Yeah. I was just about to spill the beans. And don't forget the Pop Craig's Patreon people get every new episode in full with no Adverts days before the general population does, they get all the exclusive bonus content, and they get to rig the chop music top 10 compiled in association with Gallup.

Are you ready for it, chaps? Oh yeah. Hit the fucking music! We've said goodbye to Ghostface Scylla. Narada Brian Walden. No. I'll need him the dancing fool. And the country.

beast of Bodmin, which means non-up, four down, two non-movers, three new entries and one re-entry. Down seven places to number ten, David Van Day's Dex's Midnight Runners. New entry at number nine, the heavy music brigade. Last week's number five, this week's number eight, the provisional O-R-R-R-E. R.A. No change at number seven for Bommodog. Hang on in there Bermadog. A former number one drops four places to number six, the Birmingham Pistro. Last week's number one drops four places to number five. Monster Munch Kempsex party. Last week's number four, this week's number four, the Bent Cuntsawad for.

a re-entry at number three for here comes jizzle. Brilliant. And it's a new entry at number two this week for the paedophile information exchange horns, which means Britain's number one. This week's highest new entry, straight in at number one. Rod Hull and Emo. Oh, what a charm, boys. Fucking hell.

Here comes Jism. They're back. They're back. They're on the right track. Making a splash. So, boys, the new entries. The Heavy Music Brigade. I was surprised they came in so low.

I thought they'd do a lot better than that. But I think it's safe to say they do exactly what it says on the tin, don't you think? Yeah. Yeah, metal bands tend to do that, right back to, you know, Metallica, whatever. Ray Ron Seal. The paedophile information. and exchange horns. What's their stick? I reckon they're one of those

Bristol bands from the early 80s with lots of trombones and saxophone, you know. And paedophiles. Yeah. And pedophiles. And Rod Hull and Emo, well, kind of self-explanatory, isn't it? Just Rod Hull's standing there in Emo with his beak drooping down to Rodhull's knees.

Well, Emu made that single, didn't he, that time? What? He did, he made a single, and it's, you hear the voice of Eamu, and it's all very sad, and it's all about, you know. Emu hasn't got a voice. Yeah, no, he doesn't. For this single, for this one-off, you know, he's given voice. What does he sound like? Very one, very emo, oddly enough.

You know, there's no one that's a friend quite like you. It's out there. It's got to be out there on YouTube. You're sure you're not thinking of Orville? It's a fever. No, no, no. David, think about what you're saying, mate. Emu never said a single word ever.

So, you know, this idea that he landed a recording contract, like he was fucking Lina Zavarone. No, mate, not having it. That's what he does. I'm sorry about getting angry about this, but it goes against all the laws of the emu-verse. And to suggest otherwise, you're just fucking with our childhoods, David. I don't want to cast a Spurgeons, but maybe you're not emu-expert, David Stops. That's all I'm saying. Who'd win a fight, do you reckon?

Who win a fight out of Orville and Emu? Oh, Emu all day, man, no question. No, but the thing is, you know, he's a bit, obviously he's a fucking berserker, his emu. But Orville's got heft on his side. You know, he's stock. Orville's a Mardi baby, though. I suppose he is, but, you know, he's got a massive pin he could stab with. I know.

Here's a fair fight. Emu versus Bernie Clifton's ostrich. Oh, yeah, I mean, you take him out. It's a question of who's the hardest-looking bastard out of the men with the hands up the ass. It all depends on who wants it more. Yeah, by proxy, yeah. Poxy. So, this episode, Pop-craze youngsters, takes us all the way back to February the 16th.

1978. Oh, a vintage year for pop. And it's an opportunity to test out of theory I've been ruminating on for a wild chapter. You know that one where people say that everyone's favourite World Cup is the one nearest to your 10th birthday? Right. Well, I'm starting to think that 10 might just be the optimum age

for getting the maximum enjoyment out of top of the pulse. Because think about it, by the age of 10, you've probably been watching it for a few years. years, but you're still getting that illicit thrill of watching something that's not a kids program. Yet you feel you understand everything. More importantly, you're old enough to like pop music, but not yet old enough to pick sides. That shit starts to happen when you start secondary school, doesn't it? Absolutely right, yeah. So everything you're going to hear on top of the pops, you're going to give it a fair go, isn't it? I mean, by the end of 1978, I'm going to finally become a

consumer of pop singles. And in a few years, I will be watching Top of the Pops and dismissing at least 60% of what's on on site. But at this moment, when I'm nudging double digits, everything is up for grabs on Top of the Pops. Don't you think? I'm going to start the bidding at 10

as the perfect age to enjoy an episode of Top of the Pops. Your thoughts, panel? Yeah, well, I'm more or less the same age as you, Al. And this would absolutely have been the time I was becoming Pops. crazed, you know. Yes. And as you say, I was non-aligned. It was that, that beautiful time of

innocence before I picked aside, you know. Yeah. There was a two-year period maybe when I was just buying and listening to brilliant music from any genre. Before, you know, Tuto, and we talked about this before, came and got me and claimed me for scar. So I was listening to things like Abba, the BGs, ELO, Blondie, the Boomtown rats, Boney M, Saturday Night Fever, Sound Later this year, 78, it would be the Greece soundtrack. There was a K-Tel album my granddad had called Midnight Hustle, so whatever was on that. I was suddenly becoming pop crazed and just opening myself up to all of it, without yet any idea of what's cool or what isn't or having to pick a team.

So yeah, absolutely. David, what's the best stage to watch Top of the Pops for you? I think anywhere between 10 and 12, actually, certainly in my case. And actually, it does fit because, well, actually, my favourite World Cup was the 1970 World. Cup. That was a bit precocious when I was only seven. Oh, you remember. I hate you for remembering that. Yeah. It was in black and white. Did you see the moon landings and all that shit? Oh yeah. God. Yeah. They trundled in the big telly into the assembly hall. Yeah. So the moon landings. Yeah. The 1970 World Cup was the first

one to be where you could see the matches live via satellite because in 66 it was obviously in the UK. 62. The technology wasn't there. So 70. And everything, I watched some little black white tell you at the Golden Sand Shalay Park in Windssea. But even though we're watching in black and why, everything had a kind of glow about it. It felt colourful somehow. And of course, you had that commentary that felt like, you know, it was being phoned in. Yeah. And it gave that sense of distance that you don't get anymore. I mean, everywhere, it might as well be in Bolton now. So it does rebut your theory a little bit. But then again, I should say, of course, this was the 1970 World Cup. Yeah. Which is probably the greatest World Cup of all

time. And I really did like the 1974 World Cup. And that probably been my second favourite. So, yeah. I did love the 78 World Cup. You know, I really did. I bought the theme tune, which is, you know, the Andrew Lloyd Webber when the BBC one. Yeah, and yeah, just all the ticker tape. And again, it was still that kind of crackly image and the sort of phoned-in commentary, Mario Kempes and all that kind of stuff. And of course, now as an adult,

I know how horrifically corrupt that World Cup was and all the kind of fascism that lay in the background. But at the time, it was fantastic. Not like these days. No, no. Yeah, exactly. It's all beautiful now. Very transparent, isn't it? Lovely Qatar, lovely USA.

Yeah. Of course, by 1978 World Cup, I was in my kind of good... Well, of course, it's just 22 men kicking a ball around, didn't it? Oh, yeah. Oh, no. I was suddenly getting all superior about football. So I didn't watch a lot of it, though I did manage to catch the Archie Gemmel goal. How long did that last?

Because I spent about 10 years off football for similar reasons. How long did you last before you sort of returned to the fold? I think I kind of grew up, because 1979, I was cheering like a goon when Alan Sunderland scored the winner against 1990. It started running around the back goal. and screaming at neighbours and stuff. You see what's happening? What are we doing in the garden? You know.

Yeah, Sunderland did it in 79, Villa did it in 81. What is it? Yeah, that's a pub quiz question. But it really helps, doesn't it, Simon, when you become 10 in 1978, when virtually all musical life

is on display in the charts. And this episode, a top of the pops that we're going to eventually get into. Features practically everything was on offer in that fable year, bar reggae. Yeah.

It's a good episode, this one, is astonishing, I've got to say, yeah, we're in for a treat. So let's not fanny about, onward! In the news, Ian Smith announces that Rhodesia will allow black people the vote by 1980. They go on to use that vote to knob off Ian Smith and become Zimbabwe. The Conservative Party have suddenly racked up an 11-point lead in the opinion polls after being slightly behind Labour last month. Three weeks after Margaret Thatcher started banging on about immigration,

alien culture, blah, blah, blah. Talking of racist cunts, the government has banned Bill Wilkinson, the imperial wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, from entering the country after he announced he was coming in undercover to set up a branch in Coventry. In the wake of the discovery of the 8th VIII, victim of the Yorkshire Ripper, West Yorkshire police have urged the wives and girlfriends of

impotent men to get in touch. They passed on a dossier to three independent psychiatrists, who all concluded that the Ripper can only achieve climax while committing murder, and invites women to dial a free phone line and record their partner's sex problems. The Daily Mirror have found a new punk band to be upset by The Pretty, the Pretty pedophiles who have put out an EP called Rape, which according to its distributor's Lightning Records, has already sold its complete stock to independent record shops around the UK.

However, the mirror doesn't reckon it. It will prove to be a big disappointment to the child porn people. It is loud, raucous, and the lyrics are barely audible. Oh, paedophiles, man. When will you get the records that cater to yours? needs. Wasn't that someone who went on to be famous under a different name?

I have to look into that. Well, after doing my research, I could confirm that the mirror fucked it up because the bands were called raped. The EP is called Pretty Peder Files. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. And they later changed their name to the cuddly toys. Right. So there we go. Fagely remember that, yeah. ITN have announced what they claim to be their first female newscaster, Anna Ford, who has been poached from the BBC, where she worked on Manor, Live and Tomorrow's World. She'll be starting on the news at 1,

but is rapidly promoted to News at 10, and no, she isn't the first. That was Barbara Mandel, who did the Midday News in 1955. Of course. It's been announced that Mull of Kintyre by Wings, currently tumbling down the charts at

number 12, and therefore not on this episode, so don't panic Pop Crazy youngsters, has just become the biggest selling single of all time in the UK. Fusufing she loves you by the Beatles and is expected to sell its two millionth copair sometime next week.

Muhammad Ali has sensationally lost the World Heavyweight Championship to Leon Spinks on points in Las Vegas. Spinks, 12 years younger than Ali, had only fought seven professional bouts beforehand and would lose the title back to Ali's seven months later. I was gutted.

Gordon McQueen has become the first half a million player in British football. After Man United gave Leeds United the requisite 1,000 monkeys for the Scottish defender, even though he said in Shoot magazine a fortnight ago that he would never leave Ellen Road. Liar, Quisling. Liverpool are through to the League Cup semi-finals after dispatching Arsenal. No!

But all missed rolling in from the Trent last night means that a second leg of the other semi between Forest and Leeds has been put back to next week. And we fucking batter them. Yes. And we beat Liverpool. Yes! You wouldn't get that happening now, would you?

You're forest battering Liverpool. No. But the big news this week, Rod Stewart wears women's knickers. D. Harrington, who was Rod's girlfriend for the first off of the same, has told all to the Sunday mirror, including the moment they met. Quote, at the party, Rod was wearing a white suit and looked like an advert for Omo. One girl after another kept throwing herself at him.

Then I became aware that he was staring at me. We went to bed that night, but he fell asleep. When we got dressed, Rod put on my white night. knickers. It was a symbol of our closeness, he said. Although I later found that he wore women's knickers all the time. He likes the

softness against his skin. Oh, Rod, you dirty bastard. I miss Omo. On the cover of Melody Maker this week, David Bowie. He's given an exclusive interview and the maker has devoted eight

pages to it. On the cover of sounds, Gay advert. On the cover of Record Mirror, Reckless Eric. The number one LP in the country at the moment is the album by Abba. Over in America, the number one single is

staying alive by the BGs and the number one LP is the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. So, boys, what were you doing in February of 1978? Can I just say something, going back to

what you've just mentioned, Ali versus Spinks, right? Heavyweight Championship of the World. I noticed that when I was going through the TV schedules for this day. It was on BBC 1. I mean, world title bouts were broadcast free to air, you know? I have an idea that it was broadcast the day after. The day after.

But even so, you've got to see it. Everyone had an opinion as well. Kids from bad homes were allowed to stay up late and watch it, you know. And Spinks was considered the baddie, wasn't he? Just because he wasn't Ali, you know. Yes. He was 11 years younger. So, I mean, he won and it was a shock result, I guess.

But he used to get this kind of favouritism of... I mean, I think David's spoken before about the way in which some of Ali's opponents were almost sort of bestialised by the press. George Foreman was treated as being subhuman in some way just because I guess he wasn't as kind of media-friendly and as sort of articulate and witty as Ali. And sadly, bestialised by Ali as well.

I mean, poor old Joe Frazier, the gorilla in Munira. Yeah, all of that, absolutely. Yeah. It's strange with it. Ali was a lot more respectful to his white opponents. When he did this kind of demeaning thing, it was always to his black opponents, which is very odd really. Leon Spinks, apparently, this was his eighth professional fight,

which is the shortest rise in history through the ranks, you know, to be the world champion. But he had a terrible downfall, didn't he? He became a wrestler for a short while. And then he ended up as a janitor at McDonald's and at the YMCA. And he was slur in his speech as a result of boxing-induced brain shrinkage. It's all pretty sad. But yeah, I remember that.

Just seeing that name Leon Spinks, it's like, oh my God, I'm back there in that year. It was so specific to that, you know, that week in 1978, isn't it? So what were you doing, Simon? So 1978, yeah, I am 10 years old. The big 1-0, 10, 1-0. I guess when you hit double figures, you've got to take time out to look around

and ask yourself some pretty serious questions. Am I satisfied? Where am I going? What do I want? Yeah, if you know, you know. Yeah, so... Your seventh life crisis. Me and my mum, we had not long moved to Porth Carey Road in Barry,

having left the house in Park Crescent, where I've told the story, the maggots fell on my head. Oh. Yeah, so left that house of horror behind. This might sound weird, right, but if... Porth Carey Road, it felt like a cooler street. It wasn't posher by any means, but a bunch of my friends from school lived there,

including Andrew the Met. who I've talked about a lot, who live next store. My mate Sue, who sadly died last year, and I was one of the pool, I was one of the pallbearers carrying her amazingly cool leopard print coffin. When I moved to Port Cary Road, me and Sue and Andrew and a few others would all play football on a little concrete pitch in a nearby park called Chickenwood. The centre circle was cratered by bonfires that had been built by the local gang, the Bellites. Oh, the Bellites, yeah.

Yeah, the Bellites, yeah. We formed a five-a-side team called Lightning FC because we all had the same cheap black trainers with a yellow lightning flash on the side, which we got from a, or our mums or whatever, got from a shoe shop on Holton Road. I would kill for a pair of those now. I just remember them looking really cool.

And we formed a gang called the YOC, which stood for young Osprey Crusaders, right? Sue had joined the young ornithology. club and she had these badges with YOC on it with a picture of a bird of prey. So in 1978, me and Sue were in three spring

which was the name of our class at Romley Junior School which was right at the top of Barry. Barry's basically one massive hill from the sea upwards right and all the classes were named after the seasons. We were also broken up into houses for competing in sport and poetry and that kind of stuff

all of which were named after Welsh saints Barak, Caduc, Ichted and Dovern. I was in Barrack, which was the best. Nobody wanted to be in Dovern. That was for losers. Our classroom was in what was known as a terrapin. It was a sort of porter cabin outside the main red brick Victorian school building. And I was starting to get an inkling of the brutality that might lie ahead. The first year of the comprehensive school was in a building next door, and the kids from that would sometimes get paraded past us at the top of a steep grassy bank. Terrifying, aren't they?

I once saw Mr. Pierce, the head of that school, pick a kid up by his ear for stepping out of line, picked him off the ground by his ear and threw him down the bank by his fucking ear. I remember years later, when I was grown up, my granddad introducing me to Mr. Pierce, who turned out was a mate of my granddad's from the golf club, and my granddad had no idea of, you know, the brutality that I'd witnessed. I could not shake that cunt's hand.

I couldn't do it. I think my granddad thought I was being rude, but I could not do that. But being 10 in 1978, mostly I remember it is a fun time. I mean, okay, a time of Chinese burns and stink bombs, a sort of low-level nastiness. But one of our teachers, Mr. Thomas, right,

he was a Second World War veteran. I don't know if you had any of these at your school. He'd served in the Far East. I don't think he had any formal teaching qualifications, but they apparently gave loads of teaching jobs to Army veterans coming back from the war, right? and he was very easily distracted. If he was giving us a boring lesson,

all you had to do was to say, sir, tell us about the war, right? And he'd go off on it. He'd start recounting these lurid, horrific tales of Japanese prisoner of war camps, which would make the girls cry. I don't want to gender it, but the fact is those who cried were girls,

it's just a fact. Or he'd pick up a piece of chalk and he'd draw this incredibly detailed picture of a warship on the blackboard from memory. Wow. And we'd just sit there and think, I was better than learning maths or whatever, you know. Yeah.

Another thing that used to happen in those terrapins in three spring was that two kids would have to stay behind every day and put the chairs up on the desks so the cleaners could get around afterwards, you know. So one day it was me on chair duty and a new girl who I'm going to call Jenny because that was her name. We were in the middle of putting the chairs up and Jenny turned to me and blurted out, Simon, I adore you.

Now, the word adore seemed weird for a 10-year-old, like it was learned from a story or a film or something. But I was dumbstruck by being told this and absolutely terrified. So I said nothing and I literally ran away. I ran home. It was never spoken of again. Until now. Yeah, yeah.

That set the course for my teenage years. Now I look back. Running away. It just occurs to me, you know, you're talking about that teacher and Mr. Pierce, that back in the late 70s, there was so much more. violence than there is today in certain places like in the street among friends, in homes, in schools. At gigs

gigs were really, really shockingly violent. Yeah, I'm not saying that violence has been eliminated from society, I think has been displaced, but there was violence back then in places and among people where today there is virtually no violence or much, much less violence. Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. You know when this girl said I

adored, did you say it in a Welsh accent? I guess so. It's sounded a bit like Gladys Pugh in my life. Oh my God. And you were Geoffrey Fairbishop. brother. Oh my God, that is exactly the dynamic. Yes. Blesser. David. I ran about this time. I was literally about days away from being born again, as it were. I was born in 1962, but I was born again in 1978.

There were two or three kind of epiphanies, really. One, I think, was a sort of slow-burning one. It was like I was in the fourth form at a grammar school. David of the fourth form. That's right. It was part of a rite of passage among boys my age, especially. at Graham schools that albums by people like Led Zeppelin and Genesis was circulated and this was your kind of initiation into kind of more mature, more revolved proper music. And I must say I did kind of buy into that. Were you ahead? Not quite, no. Well, they're like fragments of doobies in the gateful sea. Yeah, no, no, no. I couldn't quite get deep down. Because simultaneously,

about this time, I went to Schofields in Leeds, which is a department store, which actually is no longer open and thankfully. My mum used to work at the, um, job centre in Cross Gates near Leeds. She told me that they'd once rung and said that they didn't want any black applicants for jobs there. Oh my God. So fuck off Schofields anyway. I didn't realize it at the time because my mum kept it under her hat. But I bought this paperback book by a guy called James Haskin, I think it was, about Stevie Wonder, who was out always light. And then he just became a real hero of mine. And again, I was initiated into this idea of like discernment. The other thing was I started reading Melody Maker, the music press. And which, which,

it was full of very strong opinions about good and bad music. And so, yes, I finally realised that there was excellent music made by Stevie Wonder, made by Genesis, and then there was mindless commercial pat for the kind of gullible matters, of which I wasn't one. Certainly not. And this was reinforced. Ray Coleman, who castigated the Brotherhood of Man. He said that they wrote banal little ditties for unthinking people,

and I was just punching a year. Yes, right. That man don't care who he hurts. Exactly. Yeah. So that's where my head was at at the time. But I was actually just, actually, I was about days away from buying this Stevie Wonderbook. And days away from actually getting my first edition of Melody Maker.

And I felt vindicated and transformed. And it, you know, and it kind of set me on the road, really. Yeah. I know for a fact that I did not see this episode of Top of the Pops, which would have broken my art. Because it was half term. So I was at me non-or and grandpas as usual. and they didn't yet have a portable upstairs and they certainly weren't top of the pop's people

but I do remember being allowed to stop up and watch the Ali Spinks fight and my grandpa who didn't like Ali tutting all the way through it saying it was rigged and a fix and all you wait a few months time he'll fight him again and he win and lo and behold he did so yeah my grandpa was right on that so I can guarantee while this is on I'm hunched over a Sabutio pitch in front of the telly in the Libbyo.

room with some other shit on trying not to think of the pop thrills I was missing out on. So yeah, this was practically a new episode to me, this one. So chaps, shall we do what we always do round about this time and knit back into the chart music crap room, rip open a few cardboard boxes and extract an issue of the music press from this very week? Yep, yes, please. So this time I've gone for the NME, February the 18th, 1917. On the cover, Bob Marley looking on sideways with a very impressive Tam, making him look like a stamp.

In the news, as is the style of the music press in the 70s, the news section is almost exclusively dedicated to tour announcements. So prepare for Elvis Costello, Ian Jury and the Blockheads, Blue Oyster Colt, Billy Joel, Chris Christopherson and Rita Coolidge, and Manfred Mann's Earth Band. to take rock and roll chaos to the streets. Capical Radio have received a spate of phone calls from people claiming to be from the National Front, demanding that they stop reggae, with the latest one threatening to stab DJs on the station. Fuck.

Only one call has made the airwaves so far, when someone rang up Michael Asple's swap shop and demanded he stopped playing, quote, Woggy music. Oh my God. One DJ, Dave Cash, informed his listeners that he'd had one such call 10 minutes before he went on the year, but said he refused to be intimidated and immediately played Wycott we live together by Timmy Thomas.

When contacted by the NME, an NF spokesman denied they had anything to do with it and then got all shirt air and said, you're a moron before slamming the phone down. But as the article points out, when National Football, front leader Martin Webster was interviewed by black music last year. He said that reggae was for degenerates and monkeys. The Tom Robinson band had been pilloried by the tabloids for causing a riot at the W.H. Smith's in Charing Cross Station. According to the news of the world, Robinson interrupted his band's performance as a demo

on behalf of Gay News in Trafalgar Square to slag off the stationary Emporium for banning the magazine after they printed a poem about a Roman centurion bombing Jesus, which led to a group of protesters going over there afterwards to have a bit of a shout and throw some newspapers around. Elton John and Rod Stewart have filmed up plans for a movie starring themselves, playing themselves. The film, under the working title Jetlag, will feature music and a strong con. comedy element, and they've already scoped out a location in Rio de Janeiro and intend to commence shooting at the end of the year. Obviously, that doesn't happen, and I must say thank fuck.

Over in the gossip page teasers, we learn that Sid Vicious and his paramour Nancy Spungent are up before the beak for being caught in possession of speed, with Sid's lawyer claiming that the quantity in question was the smallest anyone in the UK. has been charged over. In other ex-pistols news, rumours abound that Malcolm McLaren is making plans to jet off to Rio to scout a replacement frontman,

Ronnie Biggs, while Johnny Rotten is still in Jamaica and has been seen nipping in and out of studios with assorted musicians. The enemy speculates a reggae solo LP, but he's actually scouting on behalf of Richard Branson to sign up acts for Virgin's front line. label. A John Leiden reggae album, David, would you have partaken?

Oh, absolutely. There was also rumoured around this time that he was going to be the new lead singer for Cannes. Right. It was just this little interim period, you know, before public image gets up and running. It's filled in that little void, yeah. And in the wake of the separation of Eich and Tina Turner, we learned that their former Marital home featured a guitar shaped dining table and a telly made of imitation ivory that shaped like a whale. Wow. which led to a visitor exclaiming, you mean you spent $70,000 at Woolworths? In the interview section,

well, Phil McNeil nips up to Edinburgh to follow a bandies heard loads about and is determined to dislike because they sound too good to be true, XTC. We learned that Andy Partridge took up the guitar in the late 60s when the kids at school pointed out he was the dead spit of Peter Talk, which led to him ordering his mam in the kitchen when the monkeys came on

so he could try to play along with them. Barry Andrews invited all three of his aunties to their gig at the Croydon Greyhound and isn't allowed to forget about it by the other members, and they've been banned from performing their new single Statue of Libertair on three different kids' TV shows for the lyric, I sailed beneath her skirt. McNeil comes away absolutely beguiled, informing the readership that they simply must assemble at the Lyceum next week

to see them share the bill with wire. Charles Shaw Murray hies himself to a hotel in Bayswater to Reason with Bob Marley, who is currently in London to get away from being assassinated in his own country and put together his next O.P. Kaya. After bagging a cassette tape featuring four new tracks earlier that morning, he learns that Molly has dipped into his business. back catalogue and re-recorded some of his late 60s stuff.

And when he asks why, he's told, what really happened is that we have all these songs and rehearse them, so we record them so we can get them off our heads and think about new songs. Some of them really mean a lot to me, but they never really get justice in production, so if you don't do them over, they lost. When he's asked about how he manages such a prodigious workload, when he's caning it all the time,

he advises the youth that they shouldn't try to emulate him. You should smoke just a little bit when you feel like a drawer. It shouldn't get to where you smoke until you drop on the ground. That n'ar right. When they get to the subject of politics, Murray tells Marley that Norman Mailer believes that war should be settled with the leaders of disputing countries going into single-person combat, which leads to a discussion about a title bout

between Jimmy Carter and Idiot mean that Murray sadly fails to relate. The interview ends with Murray giving Marley a stiff records promotional pen with a genuine shredded $2,000 bill inside it and Marley offering Murray a bang on his spliff and gets him to play his guitar while they have a bit of a sing-song

after their suitably cane. And that is why you want to be amusing journalist in the first place, isn't it? What a fucking pub, brag, that was fair. Fair play. Have you ever had a sing-along with the pop star chaps? Seal once sang to me. Oh! It was a song inspired

by the time when that whale went astray and, like, fetched up in the Thames. Oh, yeah. And he just found it all fearfully poignant, and he wrote a song about it, but he couldn't, he felt he couldn't quite articulate it, you know, so, I'll just sing it to you, and he just belted out this chorus. You just want to cry out loud.

cry. I had a little red needle on my same recorder kind of batting against the side of the thing and it was just like the plaster's falling from the ceiling but so yes I've been sung at and yeah it was just okay well well done yeah take your point. Ice tea wrapped into my face one yeah I went over to LA and went up to his amazing house up in the Hollywood Hills

which had a shad pile carpet that was deeper than the grass on my lawn until about three weeks ago and he had a little home studio he took me down there, sat me down on this little sofa and press his play on some track and he just, it's just me and him there and he's just like rapping right into my face and I just did know what to do.

It's bad enough when you're sat there quite often if you're a journalist you get taken to an album playback and you sat in the record company office and you have to sort of awkwardly like nod your head and tap your foot while the artist and or their PR looks expectantly at you

but he's fucking delivering this rap directly into my face from his new album which is a bit of a weird one. Another time Lady Gaga started playing a load of tracks that had never been released before and singing them at me and various other journalists backstage at the O2.

But the one I really remember more than any other is the Human League. The first time I went to interview the Human League, it was in a hotel in Kensington. And obviously, it was the 90s by this point. They were about to have their comeback with tell me when and all of that. But I'd grown up

absolutely worshipping the I walk into the hotel lobby. Phil Oakey sees me and before even saying hello, he goes, You sure make me feel like loving you. And I'm like, what? And he goes, You sure make me feel like loving you.

And I just look really puzzled and he said, Who is that? I've heard that on the radio. And I'm like, oh, right, right, yeah, yeah. It really freaked me out. What's serious by... Strike. Oh, who is it by?

No, it's you sure do by strike, isn't it? Yeah. Oh, right. But I don't know if it's sample from something else originally. I know. I know the song very well. I can't remember. Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, yeah. Oh, right, there we go. That'll be where they got it from. Yeah, yeah. Just going back to that Charles Charmurray interview, I actually read that piece two or three months ago as part of the researcher of thing that I'm doing. And there was actually a little blinker missing a bit in the middle of way.

He makes some small talk to Charles Charle-Marie with Mali. He asked him how his foot is because he's just had an operation on his big toe to remove a cyst. And he just says, yeah, I play some football I get into a hurting. They make a big thing about it, and then it says, brackets, giggles. It's really sad.

It's just one thing about this year which no one knows what's coming. Because all the thought this time as Africa must be free by 1983 and they didn't know that Bob Marley's going to be gone by 1981. Yeah. Yes, it's another bright, new, young,

zestier, pepe, zaphe, clean, boring, Bay City Rollery, standard issue, power pute group, screams the headline of Steve Clark's interview with Chris Turner, frontman of the Southend band Tonight, whose debut single Drummerman is currently marching along at number 15 in the hit parade. After he moans that they can't get a gig in their hometown, with the local Polly knocking

and back for being too commercial, and the local paper refusing to write about them, guitarist Philip Shambon points out that Drummerman was a reaction to what Clark calls the Ramalama Dole Q Brigade's obsession with making social comment. When asked if they're either of the two new genres at the music press are currently putting about, Thames Beat or Power Pop, they immediately shut down the Thames Beat label, because beat music is too superficial. And while they played at the Power Pop package at the Nashville last week, they wish they hadn't, even though the name kind of suits them.

It's got the power of the new wave, as label. go is pretty apt for us. Fucking drummer man was a big tune at Westclair Junior School, let me tell you that. Steve Walsh finds himself in the Entertainment's Hall of Bristol University to witness the pop group

playing a benefit for Friends of the Earth and is reminded of Antonin Arto's concept of theatre that the performance of a play should be like a visit to the dentist, an experience that doesn't kill you, but you will experience feelings of discomfort and anxiety.

After the kids have been suitably rocked and rolled all night long, he has to sit down with them and discovers a band who style themselves as individualists who wish to inspire people to provide some form of reorientation, to be catalytic in a reaction that releases

the child in man and creates something which is good and evil at the same time. If 1978 means making a choice between banal fun time excesses of power pop and something as genuinely aspiring as the pop group that I know what camp I'll align myself with, concludes Walsh.

After all, why bother about fun when you can dance without moving to the beatniks of tomorrow? Well, you're on your own there, mate. Yes, you kind of is, although the pop group were the future. Nick Kent gets a preview of a film that'll be opening next week at the Odeon on Bloomsbury Square. Derek Jarman's Jubilee. He notes that while American cinema companies are fighting for distribution rights

and early reviews have been glowing, including one from Variety, which claims it's the best British film of the past ten years, he sees Jubilee, which is set six years into the future, and depicts London as an anarchy-ridden hellscape, where a gang of spunky ladies kill Wayne County and castrate a policeman as an airing of the worst and most predictable excesses of punk. There's something potentially dangerous at work here when one considers that this is to be punk's great statement,

its first and possibly only big film, and that its frankly sensationalist bent will more than likely move the straight media to condemn the film and provided with a notoriety that will attract a sizable audience, only too willing to use Jubilee's grim vision, as a perfect argument against punk and then God knows what'll happen. I mean six years after this,

we got Howard Jones and Nick Kirshaw, I don't know, but as well that was mentioned. Brian Case reminisces about how mint it was to be part of the original wave of Ted. Andy Gill walks us through the mythology of the residents and Bob Woffenden checks in on Don McLean. But the enemy don't bother to send a photographer because he's wearing the same double denim rigout he has.

on when he did a photo shoot for them in 1974. Oh, Americans do catch up. Single reviews. In the chair this week is Bob Edmonds, who has not one, not two, but three singles of the week. First up, I love the sound of breaking glass by Nick Lowe. Bashor may not have helped poor Graham Parker's last shot at Stardom

with his bombastic production, but there is no lack of finesse when it comes to his own product. This sounds remarkably like the song to transfer his cult reputation into ready cash. Having spent many months being gobed on in all parts of these islands, the human spittoons deserve some kind of reward for their sacrifice. And as with Bashar, this could be the one to do it. But at what expense? Ask Edmunds of the clash and their late in.

offer in, Clash City Rockers. Sure, they've retained their punkish mannerisms, but there appears to be harmonies in amongst the braying that owe not a little to the Beatles. But it's no good speaking to the common man if the common man isn't putting his hand in his wallet. Watch out for this act on top of the pops. They're going to be bigger than darts.

Tony Beatlemania hasn't bitten the dust yet, clearly. Depending on your point of view, it's either a... big salad or an exquisite hybrid. From here it sounds like a classic love song, says Edmunds of Is This Love by Bob Marley and the Whalers. His least ethnic, least political, least mystical songs since Stir It Up. If Marley were Dylan, this would be a cut from Nashville Skyline and a good omen for the forthcoming album.

A pity, though, that Marley looks and dances like Max wall when he's on top of the pops. But it's a coat down for that's too bad. The debut single by Tubeway Army. Feeble Johnny Rotten imitator gabbles indistinctly over the day-tripper riff should have never got past the ticket collector. Oh dear.

And that's surely the last we'll hear of them. Yeah. Almost ten years after the humble bums, Jerry Rafferty still does the ten. Aistice McCartney pastiche around, but despite its class, this cuts unlikely to score, says Edmonds of Baker Street.

Never make predictions. It's chiefly notable for a batch of deluxe sax solos that replace the Hawks fucking out. Oh, by Bob Holness. Fuck's sake. Kiss are still failing to make any kind of dent in the UK and their latest single, Rocket Ride isn't going to change that,

with lyrics that suggest the rocket in question might just be a man's willer. Frankly, this rocket sounds like it exploded before it got off the launch pad. A common problem amongst sexist pigs. The musical fan of the day, Power Pop, is in full effect on the singles page, but Edmonds does not reckon it in the slightest.

Imagine Ted Nugent playing Mersey Beat and you get the gist He says of Too Old Too Soon by Pezband I like sport by the Stukas Is the sound of a beat group roughly In the style of Freddy and the Dreamers And the Exile are clashed disciples Who appear to be boasting that they're the real people In their single called The Real People

But this takes some believing You got that right Punk is still spraying its musk upon the record shops of the island, but Edmunds gives it all the shortest of shrift. Know your product by the Saints is good advice, but not followed here. Stryker, the first and only single by the Northern Irish band Midnight Cruiser, fails to make it clear if they're singing about football or industry, but he has a soft spot for I'm a flasher by the Douggy Briggs band.

their follow-up to say last year's punk rocking granite fucking out. Sadly chaps, unlike Melodymaker, they skip over the real big punk release of the week. The double A side, Daddy is my pusher, Daddy is my pimp, and we're so glad Elvis is dead by the Amsterdam band Tits. I remember that. Do you remember Tits, David? I do, yeah.

Yeah, we're so glad Elvis is dead. We're so glad. Elvis is dead. He's such a dick! I'm going straight on discogs. Most of those lyrics are a bit indecurable because A, their Dutch and B is punk, but I have a feeling that they have a little bit of a go at Danny Mirror at the end for Lick and Pickery. Yeah, did they ever meet Danny Mirror? Was there a fight? Yeah. And finally, there's a cover of

Uptown Top Ranking by Flash, who performs the song in a Wurzel style and fashion. with the lyrics alluding to sexual harassment on the streets because, hey, it's 1978. This send-up puts the J-Arthur in ranking, says Edmunds. Fucking out, have you heard that? No. Oh, don't. LP reviews. Top billing this week goes to the most prolific band in music history,

various artists, and the LP live stiffs, a memento of last year's gig at the Lyceum by Nick Lowe, Dave Edmund, Reckless Eric, Larry Wallace, Elvis Costello in the attractions and Ian Jury and the Blockhead. Neil Spencer, who was there that night, promises to treasure it forever, pointing out that the properly good stuff is on side too, which belongs to Jury and Costello, and is a brilliant reminder of their tall, long battle for supremacy. Jury stole the show on the night, but Costello steals the album. with an almost arrogant affirmation that the man is one of the most compelling live performers we have. The other live LP of the week, waiting for Columbus by Little Feet, is not reckoned in the slightest by poor Rambole. When Feet hit their stride, there isn't an entity that comes anywhere near close to the high-tencelskakak-walk strut and dirty rock and roll they kick up.

But one of the saddest sights at the rainbow last year was Richie Haywood falling asleep over his drum kit. But not half as sad as Larl George listlessly delivering as little as he could get away with, all of which is captured in unfortunate confirmation and full de-chimessence here. If the Berlin Wall in Holidays in the Sun really is the gap between the stage and the fans, as Rotten declared at the Uxbridge Pistols gig last, year, then Sham 69 are currently closer than any other band to crossing it, says Adrian Frills of the debut LP from the Chris Needham of Punk and his mates. Tell us the truth. Although he started fretting when he learned that one side was live, Thrills feels the gamble has paid off.

This is audience participation captured like nothing since the live at the Roxy LP. It's all there, including inevitability. the pathetic all-boys-together gang mentality, so prevalent in some sections of the sham audience. Sham 69 are derivative. In fact, most of the songs are not particularly memorable. But sham deliver with an intensity and conviction which sets them apart from the new wave flotsam. They really do communicate. Never mind the suits, ties and plastic ultra-bright smiles.

Here's the passion and anger of a kid With one hell of a chip on his shoulder Fucking hell Shamm really was going to be the next big thing After the pistols, weren't they? Oh, totally, yeah They were everywhere that year They even did the thing with Steve Hillidge

On stage, you know, to show that like punks and divest Yeah, could be united, yeah So they did a kind of co-presentant on stage, yeah Jimmy Percy also went down to the South Coast And did a kind of half-and-afts scarf type thing With a Southampton scarf What? Tried to a Portsmouth scarf

and that set off a massive riot. So kids are united, you know. Oh, Matt, so he started the fucking half and half scarf scum, crates. Oh, shame on him. But of course, when he did the thing with Hillage, you know, the kids are united, you know, obviously there they are. And then some big foul punk comes on stage and says, and people just don't like that, they can fuck off.

But it's a coat down for squeeze by squeeze. The trouble with this debut is that it's. so nondescript, the songs don't bounce out of the grooves, they seem to crawl reluctantly off the turntable, says Kim Davis. Squeeze are good musicians and probably wonderful human beings. I thought I'd enjoy this album and was as disappointed with it as they will be with this review. Good album, that, produced by John Cale. Yeah.

It's good stuff, yeah, yeah. Eric Burden is back with his first solo LP, Survivor, but Tony Stewart wonders if it would have been better to put him out of his misery. In many respects, Survivor is a story of this journey's experiences, erratic, worthwhile, worthless, dull, but sometimes exciting. It is not the album Eric Burden is capable of making. Hopefully, that's the next one.

This is, frankly, a pretty miserable failure on almost every level, says Nick Kent of what more could you want from live by the tubes. Laying my cards on the table, I should state that their gig I witnessed last November at the Hammersmith Odian was arguably the most overrated and most boring rock show of the year. I preferred to put the gig's shortcomings down to it being an off night, and yet here I am, Three months later, and it sounds exactly like the same miserably routine show that I saw. Steve Clark has lumped together excitable boy by Warren Zeven, and All This in Heaven too by Andrew Gold, as they're both Californian, they're both on asylum, and they both work with Linda Ronstadt. But while he dumps Zeven's effort as almost entirely excellent,

He thinks Gold's effort is his least inspired to date, although he does like Never Let Us Slip Away. Even though a long past Christmas, the compilation LPs are still piling in. Olivia Newton-John draws a line under her pre-Greece career with greatest hits, but Bob Edmunds hates it, stating, her voice is so lacking in emotion, she makes Lou Reed sound hysterical.

Meanwhile, the great-frey. dead have picked the worst time possible to put out what a long strange trip it's been in the UK, a journey which has ended with Nick Kent putting the boot in. Really, this is absolutely

unpalatable garbage. It's perplexing to wonder just exactly who this album is aimed at. Deadheads will have most, if not all of the tracks already and will note the crass inferiority of this effort. An innocence be warned.

This is Dross. And while Patrick Humphreys points out that he loves The Muppet Show, it's done for Sundays what Doctor Who does for Saturdays, he's not taken by the LP The Muppet Show too. Did Stephen Stills ever figure that the touching teen anthem for what it's worth would end up being sung by ping-pong balls on sticks? Gig Guide, well, David could have seen Marty Wilde, supported by Mousy Wilde by Mavis. matchbox at the Royalty Ballroom, Penetration at the Hope and Anchor,

The Greedy Bastards, Phil Liner and guests, including Jones and Cook at the Music Machine, Adam in the Ants at the Nashville, Landscape at Mariah Gray College in Isleworth, Chick-Korea and Herbie Hancock at the Theatre Royal In Drury Lane, Rush at Hammersmith Odian, Japan at Camden Break Knock, or Ian Jury and the blockheads at Dingwall's. but probably didn't. Taylor could have nipped out to the Birmingham Odian to see Bebop Deluxe,

the adverts of Barbarrella's, the armpit jug band at the Bogorre. Shamb 69 at Barbarella's, XTC at Aston University and Brent Ford and the nylons and the barrel organ.

Neil could have witnessed the adverts at the Lacano, Ruby and the Rationales at the Hand and Heart, and Fuck All El. Sarah could have seen White Snake at the Scarborough Penthouse, deaf school at Hall College, Gino Washington at Leeds University, John Otway and while Willie Barrett at Hall University, slaughter and the dogs are Ollie's in Scarborough,

or Gilbert O'Sullivan at the Sheffield City Hall. Al could have seen the slugs at the Sandpiper, Gaffer at the Imperial Hotel, slaughter and the dogs at Tiffany's, Roy Harper at Nottingham, Unair, or gone to Leicester to witness the power of Gallagher and Lyle at the De Montford Hall, all the Supremes at Bailies in Derby for three nights. And Simon could have seen the pop group at the Cardiff College of Education,

or gone to Tito's in Rill for a three-night stand by Alvin Stardust. Do you know how far Rill is from Cardiff? Have you got any idea? It's all waleso, isn't it? He could also have seen Sham 69 at the top rank Eddie and the Hot Rod's radio stars and squeeze at Cardiff University

or son of the bitch a ton of pandi naval club Let's us page Power Pop continues to dominate with gas bag being retitled Beatbag and being edited by Les Miserables formerly leader of the original

snibling shit now leader of fab shits. And the bulk of the letters, as always, a massive winters about previous articles or things they didn't like written by people who don't know their fucking born. About six months ago, Nick Kent numbered the kind of inverse racism that allows black reggae singers to get away with a sort of idiotic utopianism that is ridiculed in white hippie singers. It seems to me that something similar is in operation for the Tom Rye. Robinson band, says Stan of Dublin. Because Tom is a member of an undeniably oppressed minority,

he can get away with a kind of embarrassing polemic that Dylan was smart enough to drop in 64. If Wrighton's sister had been written by Joe Strummer, it would have been condemned out of hand as patronising and trite, which it is. Even Tom's gay songs aren't written from personal experience, Since he left reform school, he's been in the music biz, where homosexuality is, if anything, an advantage. So he's never had to lie to his workmates or put queens down.

If he wants to know what homosexual oppression is, he should come to Ireland, where the laws that the 1967 Act replace are still in force in both parts of the island. When the government tried to bring in laws in the north in line with England, the execrable Ian Paisley launched a campaign to save Ulster from Sodomit. I remember that. Maybe that would wipe the smile from Tom's face and drain the cliches from it. Why does he go fucking Saudi Arabia and I've done with it? It's about time people realise that Tom Robinson is a very average songwriter.

The only reason he's so big is because critics are afraid that any bad press will be construed as queer bashing. I think actually practically every critic pointed out what he said in that letter, including people like Nick Kent. I'm just writing to say that I think skins are the biggest wankers out, says a Clash Sham 69 fan of London. On the 28th of Jan, I went to the LSE to see Sham. And when I arrived at Holborn Tube Station, the skins were hassling all the old ladies and unsuspecting beings

into corners and phone boxes. When everyone got in, everyone was fairly well behaved. Then downstairs about 400 people broke in and came charging up the stairs, throwing bottles and cutting into people's flesh with kitchen knives. So eventually I left without seeing the band. I'd just like to say it's a shame because Sham are a good band, but I won't go to see them again because I refuse to go through another charade with the skins. I've also heard a bunch of people.

him saying that if any of the clash came to see sham, they'd give them a rough time, because they thought the clash should have supported sham, not the other way round. I know you won't print this letter because you never do, unless they mention the boring, beautiful Debbie Arry at least twice, but it really pisses me off when you can't see a band because you're not a punk slash skin, slash Ted, slash raster. Gerald of Manchester thinks everything is crap apart from the Buzzcocks Raggy Lewis of the Stoakers apologises to all fans

who couldn't get into their gig at Portsmouth Polly because it wasn't announced that it was NUS own lair J.F. Bain of Beresentemments wants to know what Power Pop is and what MOR means and girl with green eyes wants to go to work with Bob Geldof in a limousine. 60 pages.

P, I never knew there was so much in it. Oh, and there was in this one, wasn't there? Yeah, I mean, you fucked your voice there, Al, I'll reading that out. No, no. So while you were reading that NME, Al, I actually took the time to flick through the issue of Record Mirror from the same week. And the thing we Record Mirror is, I always used to perceive it as a bit of a sort of poor relation of the bigger papers,

like NME, Melty Maker and so on. But you look at it now. I was just looking down the contributors, the staff list, and there's some pretty impressive luminaries. So first of all, editor, Barry Kane went on to found Flexi Pop, the fantastic Flexi Pop magazine. But the writers, the contributors, you've got Philip Hall, who's going to be a PR guru in his future,

launched the Manx Street creatures. Yeah, exactly. James Hamilton, the disco columnist, whose columns in record mirror are very highly regarded these days. Jeff Travis, who was probably in the act of forming Rough Trade Records and putting out with the first Difficle fingers album around that time. Robbie Vincent, you know, Radio 1 DJ playing jazz funk

and all that kind of stuff. Robin Katz, I believe, went on to smash hits. And they jumped out with me also was artist slash sub-editor John Fruin. Now presumably the same Johnny Fruin of B.A. Cunterson and record hyping fame slash shame. It's got to be, isn't it? Yeah.

It's weird. A lot of those people seem a bit closer to the record business. Yes. It's varying ways than the writers say enemy. Yeah, I think maybe Record Mirror was sort of somewhere between Music Week and the sort of in keys. I'll come on to Music Week in a second. But there's this gossip column in Record Mirror called Juicy. Okay.

Yes. We've really learned something about Rod Stewart, of course, and his underwear habits. But his Rolls Royce caught fire that week. That's a real kind of humble brag. What a terrible week you had, Rod. You've been exposed for wearing ladies underwear and your Rolls-Royce caught fire. Will Smallest Violin. The adverts also had a car crash that week, but probably in a less expensive vehicle.

Johnny Rotten isn't the only one who's been over to Jamaica this week. Paul and Linda McCartney have gone to Jamaica to get away from the cold. Which, you know, that tells you the truth about the mull of bloody Kintyre, doesn't it? Yes. Yes. And, of course, it's a shame he didn't send Linda on her own. You know, imagine a whole month going by. He's there on the mull doing a crawl around all the pubs in Campbelltown, announcing to everyone who listen,

I say, I say, I say, my wife's gone to the West Indies. And everyone just replies, oh, that'll be a nice break for her. Record Mirror has also done a bit on the Sid Vicious Nancy Spungent court case. They describe Nancy as his delightfully amusing. Bell and they note that Sid remained silent during the hearing while the outrageous Nancy continually made rude gestures at court officials. I think she's a bad influence on him

you know. Oh, you think, yeah. There's a weird tone to some of this coverage. I'm just going to read this verbatim now. It's very much of its time. So the columnist, whoever does juicy, says domestic strife for my old friend Tony Secunda manager of Steel Eyespan and Motorhead. A judge ordered Tony out of his luxurious London home and warned him that he would go to jail if he continued to pester his ex-wife, Patricia.

Tony is now not allowed within 100 yards of the 17-room mansion. Yeah, poor guy, yeah. He sounds like he's been really hard done by there, doesn't it? He does, doesn't he? He's not allowed within 100 feet all around her hat. Oh, fuck so. So I did also look at Music Week.

There's a story on the front page of Music Week with the dateline, Glasgow, and it says a regional breakout is happening here with a World Cup song, Ali's Tartan Army by comedian Andy Cameron, which the Glasgow-based club with a label claims has already sold over 150,000 copies. Now, the thing is, Al, right, I know that we have to be positive towards Scotland, qualifying for World Cups, particularly after that astonishing victory over Denmark, those goals by Scott McTominy and Kenny McLean.

World Cups aren't proper World Cups unless, Scotland's involved, I'm afraid. Well, you say that Al, but I'm sorry. I can't get over their 1978 predecessors. I know you're going to say I should leave it, but I have a message for the 1978 Scotland team. It's very similar to something that was voiced by a Welsh actor, actually. As far as I'm concerned, the first thing you can do

is to chuck all your record sales and all your World Cup appearances and all your pots and all your pans into the biggest fucking dustbin you can find because you never did any of it fairly. You've done it all by bloody cheating. Yeah. Yeah. A Welshman never forgets Joe Jordan, handball at Anfield, then kissed his fucking hand. Yeah.

Oh. Fucking Joe fucking Jordan. The Maradonna of the Highlands. Fucking right, yeah. There's a story in Music Week that record retailers in Belgium are losing 17.5% of their stock to thieves. 17.5. Fucking hell. And that 20% of record sales in Belgium are going on boost.

What the hell, Belgium? Who knew that it was such a hotbed of musical crime? Another thing that jumped out of me, because Music Week obviously has loads of different charts in there. First of all, the new wave chart has the word fuck uncensored, which is Wayne County and the electric chairs. If you don't want to fuck me, fuck off. But that chart, the new wave chart, also inadvertently highlights a problem with the system of chart return shops and the main chart. Because in that chart, the new wave chart, you've got Blondie to knee, electric chairs, fuck. off, Buscox, what do I get? Ramones Blitzkrieg Bop,

China Street, never heard of, you're a ruin, mirrors cure for cancer. All of them are above magazine, right? Magazine, though, somehow are at number 43 in the proper charts, which shot by both sides, and of the list I just read out, only one track

Buzzcox are above them at number 42. How the fuck does that work? So it just highlights the flaws in the whole system of the charts. It's funny with the F word, like you say, getting printed there because the music press at that time was wildly inconsistent. Sometimes you get a fuck and they have can't print it out in full. And at other times in the same minute you know the word piss is asterisked. Even ass. Yeah yeah. Depends how half

asleep the sub-editors were I guess. Yeah. So what else was on telly today? Well, BBC One pulls up the shutters at 20 to 7 with a triforce of open university street knowledge and then closes down for an hour and 46 minutes. Then it's a cavalcade of schools and colleges programs until 20 past the noon. A 15 minute close down. Then they're back with On the Move, the Midday News, Pebble Mill at 1,

Trumpton, you and me, and another close down, this time for 21 minutes. After more schools and colleges, Anne Ladbury shows you how to make a coat for your kids that they'll absolutely hate, because the collars are flared in the show Children's Wardrobe. And after yet another close down,

it's regional news in your area, play school, Winsome Witch, Jack and O'Rae, Scooby-Doo, and John Craven's News Round. After Blue Peter undergoes the ritual endured by every child in the Midlands, a visit to the Open Air Museum of Iron Bridge.

Fucking out, can I stop you there? That is both why I loved and hated Blue Peter. that kind of shit I liked how it's kind of educational but fucking hell open air museum in Ironbridge I'm going to be looking across with envy at the ITV magpie listeners

not that it was on that thing but you know what I mean oh my gosh have you ever been to Iron Bridge Simon no no I managed to avoid that I trust you every kid in the Midlands was dragged to Iron Bridge at some point I think it was this year for me and it was just like oh there's a bridge

and it's made out of iron great just like all the other fucking bridges in my town Paddington has a go at DIY Hopefully not the masturbatory version Then it's the evening news Regional news in your Oh, Marmalade round the crotch

Then it's the evening news Regional news in your area Nationwide and what else Tomorrow's World Yeah, you just mentioned John Craven On John Craven's News round Apparently, originally in the frame For that slot was Jonathan Dimbleby

Really? Yeah, There's a parallel of universe in which it's thinking at Jonathan Dimbley's news round. You've now just put this really bleak image in my mind, Al. You see all these memes of Paddington Bear walking dead people off towards heaven, I guess. And it's always him from behind.

I'm now thinking that he's not holding their hand. He's actually reaching over and giving him a hand job, you know, a poor job. BBC 2 commences at 11 with Play School and then shuts down for five hours and 55 minutes Before they come back with a four-handed open university sound clash Entitled Technology for Teachers Beginning Reading

The First Year of Life dash clash An Unemployment Then it's the news on two headlines And they're five minutes into your move The Follow Up to On the Move Featuring Brian Redhead St James' Misses in Bless This House Captain Peacock and Compo

What a fucking line up ITV opens up at 10 past 9 for schools programs and then Graham Garden takes us to Charlie's climbing tree for a story. Pig, the poor kind yim-yam miserableist, starts acting the cunt and wanting to play cowboys all the time in Pibkins and then Fred Harris presents Make It Count, which is a bit like on the move, but with numbers. After the news at 1, it's regional news in your area,

followed by Crown Court, Afternoon, Shades of Green, the drama series, which dramatises the short stories of Graham Green, then the comedy drama Beryl's Lot, about a milkman's wife from Battersea, who takes a philosophy course at night school. After House Party, it's Little House on the Prairie, happy days, the news at 545,

regional news in your area, crossroads, and their ten minutes. into Emmerdale Farm. Oh, golden age of television right there, don't you think, Choms? Crown Court, more than almost anything else, possibly racing from Haydock or paint along with Nancy, Crown Court is the thing that just makes me think of being ill off school.

Yes. Oh, God, it's so depressing. Yeah. Imagine paint along with Nancy Sponger. Yes. I do believe that a groaning table has been laid for this episode, at Top of the Pops. So I suggest we step back and catch us breaths and then plunge deep in the next episode, don't you?

Yep. In that case then, we shall come back tomorrow and we shall plunge and dig and probe. But until then, thank you very much, Simon Price. You're welcome. God bless you, David Stubbs. Rock! My name's I'll need them. Stay pop crazed.

Chart music.