Jukebox Junior: Playing records to a girl called Junior
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Singles Of The Year 2000
[1] All Saints, 'Pure Shores'
See, Parlophone? See what you’ve dropped?
Before I pressed Play, I said, “Are you ready?” Junior said, “Yeah.” We like to build up a bit of drama for the No.1. Mummy then showed her how to dance like the ‘Saints, all casual and louche, all shuffling feets and lazy turns, and we all nodded and agreed it deserved its place.
A lovely, inventive song with warm burbles of synth and synthed strokes of guitar and killer choruses and killer middle eights and flying harmonies and lush production, it’s a William Orbit triumph. It’s as if ‘Ray Of Light’ was a practice run, and Madonna can’t have been happy about that. Probably drove her to Kaballah.
‘Black Coffee’ was released after this and perhaps suffers from second single syndrome– it’s possibly just me who suffers from that; I need the impact of the first single off an album, or a standalone– then there was a perfunctory third before they split. You should time your splits- not wait to be dropped, or release the weak third track.
You should do these things on a high.
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[2] Daft Punk, 'One More Time'
Hands (and half a digestive) in the air! On your feet, South West London! Release it.
The hugely cheeky, eons-long breakdown in the middle of this record was a perfect opportunity for Junior to get her grubby paws in the air and take it higher, man. She grabbed it with, um, both hands after some rolling-back-the-years encouragement from Dad. Junior kept with the record for its 8-10 minutes (it’s vinyl; how should I know how long it is?), bolstering its runner-up status.
Daft Punk polarised the punters with this, alienating the hip hop heads who loved ‘Homework’ and bringing on board the fader house crew, who’d scuffed around the edges up to this point. Me, I loved both albums, of course, and not just to put people’s noses out of joint. Not entirely, anyway. ‘One More Time’ is a euphoric disco-techno tune, the type we didn’t think we’d hear again. A good one, I mean. Romanthony’s breathless testifying swept everyone along until the whole world was celebrating, music making them feel so free.
That was the idea, anyway.
Nice sleeve too.
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[3] Kelis, 'Caught Out There'
Kelis’ yell shook England to its very foundations, then no one much cared again until ‘Milkshake’ four years later. Stupid country. ‘Kaleidoscope’, this track’s parent album, didn’t even make the top 40. It’s a classic; perhaps the most consistent modern r’n’b record, showcasing those Neptunes boys at the dizzy peak of their powers before the accoutrements of massive success turned their heads – as they’re prone to do.
‘Caught Out There’ is still a shocking statement of a woman scorned. There’s no sense of Kelis the victim. I think most men on hearing this crossed their legs just a little bit – she doesn’t sound as if she’s going to stop with just the one bad boy. Apart from the screams, the track is a sickening mix of thumping beats and cheap, woozy electronic effects. Kelis liked to claim she came from outer space, and here’s thrilling evidence for the open-minded.
Of course, she can only be a good influence on a young girl. A somewhat militant influence, maybe, but she won’t encourage a girl to stand blithely by. Junior loved the roars, obviously, but found the stuttering percussion more confusing. She needs to broaden her footwork repertoire.
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[4] Primal Scream, 'Kill All Hippies'
Primal Scream were a spent force by 2000 - or so we thought. It divides the punters, the critics, perhaps every species on God’s green earth, but ‘XTRMNTR’ rocked HRD. Almost unbearable in patches, it rewarded persistence and willingness to get your RCKS FF. Right, enough gimmickry. K?
The bastard child of ‘Bug Powder Dust’ and ‘Safe From Harm’, ‘Kill All Hippies’ is a deceptively melodic and light start to its parent album, while remaining heavy and dark. You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s massively exciting. Junior was a bit blown away, as she should be by a record like this, but Laa-Laa and Po seemed to fancy shaking a leg. That’s the thing with Jukebox Junior, isn’t it? Bobby Gillespie thinks he’s making some iconoclastic, subversive terrormachine of a tune, only to meet true subversion when a toddler makes her Teletubbies dance to it.
That’s the spirit of punk. JNR PNK.
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[5] All Saints, 'Black Coffee'
We must say nice things about All Saints; it’s been a tough week. That comeback didn’t quite come off and, showing the remarkable patience and restraint typical of your caring, sharing record company in these brittle times, Parlophone have ditched them on the eve of the second single. Bad album or not, that’s a disgrace. If the major labels had been so trigger happy in the 80s, we’d never have had Microdisney’s ’39 Minutes’. Just think about that.
Many will think ‘Black Coffee’ is a pretty unremarkable record. I did when it first came out, but it insinuated itself into the coils of my cerebral cortex, all sweet harmony and impossibly light touch, and a hook that hugs your spine. I still love to hear it, and it was more immediate with Junior. She remembered the dance steps Granny taught her before Christmas and worked through the whole choreographed routine, truly enjoying the wispy airiness of this softly cooed lullaby.
Who could’ve had an inkling of the tensions running beneath?
Anyone who ever met them, I imagine.
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[6] Moloko, 'The Time Is Now'
That remix of ‘Sing It Back’ showed Moloko the way: “Hang on, we don’t have to make rubbish, mannered records. Well, they can be a bit mannered, but we can also add tunes and goodness!” That’s how it went. I have the tapes.
This round of self-analysis and self-improvement gave us ‘The Time Is Now’, which is dramatic, mysterious and curiously sing-along. It’s cool, flitty, danceable and baroque. Quite what it’s doing at No.6 is anyone’s guess. Perhaps the pop peaks of the top five test the limits of human genius-endurance.
Our Junior loves a record that challenges as well as tickles the feet. Nothing on this earth could tempt her away from shimmying and sliding in front of the speakers – until Dad suggested she put her trousers on.
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[7] Madonna, 'Music'
In which Madonna consolidates the dramatic career rescue pulled off by ‘Ray Of Light’ and raises the bar with the kind of dizzy, squirty disco funk you never knew you needed, but now know how much it would ache to be without.
Listen, ‘Music’ sounds better with y…ears under the belt. True fact: I was surprised by how superb the record is now, much better than it was. It’s so fresh it almost makes you think that no progress has been made in dance music over the last seven years. Ah. It’s shock-sharp and snap-smart.
Junior found it magnetic, compulsive, inevitable. We danced like some sort of mad family at eight o’clock on a Tuesday morning, a wild rumpus of thrown shapes and thrown teddies.
What’s left? Six records. Five artists. Two male voices.
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