Jukebox Junior: Playing records to a girl called Junior
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Singles Of The Year 1988
[1] Neneh Cherry, 'Buffalo Stance'
Gigolo. Huh. Sucker.
La Cherry burst on to the scene, all pregnant earth mother horsing around on Top Of The Pops. She was bold, beautiful and the hippest thing since sliced Furious Five. She invented Massive Attack, Sugababes and Betty Boo. She called the unborn girl Tyson, a green light to idiot Beckhams everywhere, and made Bomb The Bass rock the place. Yeah, you’ll remember I explicitly referenced this song right back at No.20. You should’ve known.
Difficult to call, this. I mean, does everyone realise it’s a stone cold genre-busting phat classic? It’s a cool pop record with a surprise around every corner and faultless cred, erm, credentials. Neneh annoyed the pants off people, sure, but that’s what comes of being an outré risqué locomotive.
As for Junior, it shut her up. She was bellowing along the South Circular after Catford, so her mum shoved in the Cherry and it silenced her in seconds. Awe. Or. Or it was so loud, Junior’s mum couldn’t hear the young lady anymore. Either way, result.
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[2] Pet Shop Boys, 'Left To My Own Devices'
It’s a bit late to be having doubts, but this is a dubious inclusion. The single edit was a travesty of the ‘Introspective’ version, you see. Mind you, no one played the single version, so who cares? I should run the Official Charts Company- their rules could be even more arbitrary than they are.
On its own merits, ‘Left To My Own Devices’ is a stirring, high camp folly, a distillation of Neil Tennant’s wildest fancies made mundane but for the music. It pounds the speakers, yet its strings caress the ears. Reminds me of my dad saying “Well, it was ok for the first minute”, after enjoying the orchestral flurries and operatic voice (saying “arse”?) before the hi-NRG rhythm comes belting in. He still isn’t much of a disco queen.
Junior wasn’t at home for this. Her parents are out on the lash tonight- don’t demonise us; it’s rare- so she was driven over to Nanny and Grandad’s this morning for a day of different toys and *gasp* carpeted floors! Junior’s mum obligingly played this and the No.1 (already written, so don’t go anywhere) on the way, and reports that Junior was a bit drowsy for the Pet Shop Boys, so not much reaction. She herself says it’s dated well, and not to get mardy tomorrow about the CDs being in the wrong cases.
As if.
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[3] The House Of Love, 'Destroy The Heart'
I bought the original, proper House Of Love album in London, sneaking out of University College between Aristophanes plays to nip to Virgin. It was a school trip, a Classical Civilisation junket. They generally involved us trying to get served in as many local pubs as possible, without our absence being noticed by Sir. He was one of those down wiv da kidz types, anyway, so would’ve found it all larks and offered to get the next round. But you can never be sure.
‘Destroy The Heart’ ate the indie charts, but the real countdown didn’t even bat an eyelid. Philistines. The House Of Love had edge to their sound, guitars strutted and shrieked and any jangles were economical and sharp. The album is in the ranks of the perfect, but no CD issue as far as I can see. Luddites.
As the song jerked and squealed, droned and howled, Junior grabbed good old Buttons the dog again and made me dance with him. Then panda and made me dance with him. Then penguin- ah, you get the picture. After a spin with camel, I was allowed to dance with the girl herself, then the song ended.
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[4] Microdisney, 'Gale Force Wind'
The biggest band of 1988 by far was, of course, Microdisney. Flying the standard for Virgin Records, they had saved the label’s bacon the previous year with the worldwide multi-platinum success of ‘Crooked Mile’, while Virgin stood idle waiting for the next ‘Tubular Bells’ and lamenting the break-up of Culture Club. This single was the lead track from the follow-up ‘39 Minutes’, itself a withering polemic on 80s values and the length of the modern LP. ‘Gale Force Wind’ hit the top of the singles chart in June and is still there.
I’m joking. Didn’t you realise?
The Microdisney lads were indie darlings during the mid 80s, possibly only slightly less darling than The Smiths. They enjoyed the dubious fruits of rampant independent chart success and released a triumvirate of winningly-titled albums: ‘We Hate You South African Bastards’, ‘Everybody Is Fantastic’ and ‘The Clock Comes Down The Stairs’. They’re all ace. Then Virgin came a-calling and messed it all up. Well, ‘Crooked Mile’ was actually their best album, and ‘39 Minutes’ was pretty serviceable but, as so often and depressingly happens, they obviously couldn’t attain the sort of success the label was after so were dropped, and split up. Boo.
‘Gale Force Wind’ rocks, with fulsomely spat lyrics, a cracking tune and an endearingly overwrought production. I sing along to it at the top of my voice, as Junior can attest. She peacock struts her upper body, tries her chords at a bit of yelling along and gives the Irish r ‘n’ b-ers a round of applause when they finish. They’d waited a long time for that.
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[5] Erasure, 'A Little Respect'
Erasure again, and their sweetest record. Like I said, they were coursing down a rich vein in 1988. Apart from this and ‘Stop!’, their other singles that year were ‘Ship Of Fools’ and ‘Chains Of Love’- no slouches themselves, but not, you’ll be relieved to hear, in the Top 4. And they only hit their delirious peak with ‘Drama!’, another year later.
It’s a sad song, avoiding camp. Well, largely avoiding camp. I remember the video being a bit tongue-in-cheek, so to speak, but there’s a mournful tone to the busy synths and a plea in Andy Bell’s voice. And, as the song goes on, it gets warmer and warmer. A fuzzy pop cuddle.
The structure’s a bit off-mark, though. Junior applauded it halfway through. Embarrassed as it bowled on, she went back to shuffling along as if nothing had happened.
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[6] S-Express, 'Theme From S-Express'
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro!
House got camp(er), devastatingly coiffured Mark Moore surrounded himself with girls that didn’t do anything, and space age disco ousted INXS from teenage party stereos. From clunky beerhouse Aussie sexy to, well, sensuous London sexy. Just a shame we were still wearing those rollnecks.
‘Theme From S-Express’ is as cheesy as any record that popularises a movement, but it is what it is: a pop song in dance form, a dance song in pop constrictions. Everyone knows every sample, and it gets people back on the floor after 20 minutes of ‘Acid Tracks’ have driven them to the bar.
For Junior, it’s a chance to shout “cuatro!” and tear around the room with her overcoat in hot pursuit. Not that the house is haunted; I was carrying the overcoat. Mind you, the dining room stereo has recently been switching on by itself…
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[7] Morrissey, 'Everyday Is Like Sunday'
Morrissey doesn’t tend to invest his songs with much emotion, unless sardonic whining counts, but ‘Everyday Is Like Sunday’ is an exception and I’ve no idea why. “Share some greased tea with me” is a lovely line, and despite my North Lincolnshire birthplace I’m too much of a southerner to work it out.
The song is elegiac, yet pacier than you might think. I mention this because I scoffed at Junior’s Uncle Neil the other week when he suggested that he used to dance to this. “Pah!” I said. “Maybe with your stupid dancing.” In the latest of her presumably lifelong bids to prove me wrong, Junior grabbed Buttons the dog as soon as the music struck up, and waltzed with him around the living room. She then gave panda a turn.
Sorry, Neil, and sorry, Mozzer. Even your lachrymose dirges have a bit of zip. And you’re a big lad with real stage presence. Mozzer, I mean. Well done.
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