Top of the Pops: 24th November, 1977.

Mull of Kintyre lighthouse by Steve Partridge
[CC-BY-SA-2.0],  via Wikimedia Commons

This is it. I have my bagpipes plugged in, my sporran in my hand and I'm all revved up for what I believe is set to be a historic show.

It certainly is - because we kick off with Boney M single-handedly sorting out Northern Ireland for what seems to be the ninth week running. I do like to feel Bobby was hoping to dance the IRA into submission.

Sadly, we don't get to see him do so, as we only get to hear The M over the chart rundown.

That done with, it's some people who've been watching too much Bay City Rollers and listening to too much Beach Boys, trying to cash in what I assume was the skateboard craze.

Whoever they are, I do get the feeling the skateboard craze has arrived five years too late for their hopes of stardom. They look like they've been locked in a cupboard since 1974 and have only just escaped it.

Hold on a moment! That drummer's not the bloke who used to be in Flintlock and The Tomorrow People is it? Mike Holoway, was he called? If it is him, suddenly, whoever these people, are my feelings towards them have warmed instantly and I hope they have many chart hits for years to come. I can wish nothing but good to a Tomorrow Person.

From a Tomorrow Person to the Yesterday man. Because - hooray! - it's Wings. It's that song. It's that video. It's that farmhouse.

I don't care how uncool it is to say so, I'll admit it right here and now. I love this song. It's one of the greatest melodies ever written, it wipes the floor with 99% of punk records and I'm tempted to whip out my guitar and join in.

Linda's appeared from the farmhouse and Paul's suddenly doing a runner. Stop running away from Linda, Paul. She might have a veggie burger for you.

The pipe band have appeared. On the beach. Forget Bohemian Rhapsody. This is the greatest video in history.

"Sweep through the heather." Don't mention heather, Paul.

Disgracefully, Macca's faded-out long before we get to hear his shouty bit - and we're off from Scotland to Wales.

That's because it's Bonnie Tyler with It's A Hard Egg.

I'm getting a bit bored with it now. I want Wings back.

Instead I get Darts, with Daddy Cool. It's all very energetic but this is the millionth time they've been on doing it. I'm starting to want a new song from them.

Kid's back.

He's trying to strangle a female audience member.

Leo Sayer's on with a song I have no recollection of.

It seems to be called There Isn't Anything.

This is quite pleasant. It's exactly like you'd expect a Leo Sayer song to sound. And it's got exactly the video you'd expect a Leo Sayer song to have. Was this from his TV show? It has the air of something that would be.

Leo's gone and Legs and Co are with us, dancing to Jonathan Richman's Egyptian Reggae, which isn't actually reggae at all, is it?

However you classify it, it's giving Flick Colby the chance to hit new heights of choreographic literalism, with everyone dressed up Cleopatra style.

And now we get the full power of Flick's genius as, for no good reason, a panto camel appears.

What a mighty beast that is. No wonder it can survive for weeks in the desert.

Was this song the inspiration for Fleetwood Mac's Tusk? There are noticeable similarities between the two tracks.

Flick's flung herself fully into madness, as the camel launches into a tap-dance.

Having seen that performance, I do feel all women should be forced to dress like Cleopatra and all men should be forced to dress as a camel.

Hot Chocolate are back, with Put Your Love In Me.

This is another one I've not heard of.

I didn't think it was possible to not have heard of a 1970s Hot Chocolate single.

Interesting chord change.

Actually, it's turned out I have heard this before. I just didn't recognise it till it hit the chorus. This is all rather fabby and disco and vaguely Cerrone.

Speaking of fabby disco groovers, it's another helping of the Bee Gees and How Deep Is Your Love?

And next it's someone called Larry Gomez with Santa Esmeralda doing Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood. Fair play to him, he's doing his best, whoever he is but, sadly, I fear the total uselessness of both him and his dancers means his efforts will prove to be in vain.

ABBA are still Number 1 with Name of the Game.

And we play out with the Jacksons and Going Places. A Jacksons song I recognise. Will wonders never cease?

It's going on a bit. Were they running short this week?

So that's it. The edition when we first saw the future biggest-selling single in British history. I have to say I didn't feel the show as a whole caught light this week. There were two many tracks we've heard before, acts we'd never hear from again, and Mull of Kintyre was cut short. Still, we did at least get to see the moment when Flick Colby's brain finally sprung a leak and undiluted madness poured out. Let's be honest if you don't want to see that from Top of the Pops, what do you want to see?

Top of the Pops: 10th November, 1977.

Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music.
By AVRO (Beeld En Geluid Wiki - Gallerie: Toppop 1973)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

This week, to avoid the reception difficulties that so plague me whenever I do this, I'm leaping into the 21st Century in a way that only 1977 can make you do, and watching online.

Needless to say, almost the moment the show starts, I lose my connection.

When I get it back, we've already missed the intro and I'm confronted by what I assume to be the Jacksons over the chart countdown.

If it is them, it's a song I've never heard before - unless it's the song they did the other week, that I'd also not heard before.

A song I mostly definitely have heard before is on next, as Tom Robinson's back.

And there's still something about it that doesn't quite work for me. I love the record but this performance feels too pub for my liking. It's 1977. I'm going through an awkward phase. I'm having strange feelings I've never had before. Mostly involving my internet connection going down. I need some proper punk rebellion.

Meanwhile, the camera man's hanging from the ceiling.

I suppose that might count as punk rebellion.

That guitarist's got very untidy strings. I shouldn't be annoyed by that but, somehow, I am.

But now Tom's gone, and Noel claims that both Donna Summer and Ruby Winters used to be in the Four Seasons. I suspect that may not be true

What is true is that Ruby's on next, doing I Will.

Didn't the White Guardian have a chair like that in Dr Who? If he didn't, he should have.

She seems a bit confused in her movements, like she doesn't know where to look.

But who can blame her? Adrift in a sea of whiteness, it's much she's not got snow-blindness.

She needs to watch out. I once knew someone who insisted that, when a polar bear attacks, it puts one paw over its black nose and thus becomes invisible against the polar ice, meaning there could be one stood right in front of you and you'd never know it.

Something for Ruby to think about there as she rambles around the set.

Roxy Music are on with their brand new hit; Virginia Plain.

I wonder if Bryan Ferry was ever young? No matter how old the footage, he always looks middle-aged.

I've just realised, after all these years, I don't have the slightest clue what Bryan Ferry's singing about.

Oops, connection's gone again.

It turns out I've not missed much, as we're back with Boney M still solving all of Northern Ireland's problems by wearing silly costumes and dancing around a bit.

Elvis Costello's back with Watching The Detectives, the song that first brought him to my eagle-eyed attention when he appeared on the Mavis Nicholson show.

Now it's Legs and Company dancing to How Deep is Your Love? by the Bee Gees. A lot deeper than your voices, that's for sure.

For some reason, "Company" seem to be recreating Dick Van Dyke's legendary turn in Mary Poppins.

I don't have the slightest clue why.

But now it's one from left field because we're given Kenny Everett and Captain Kremmen.

I have no memory of this at all.

Obviously I remember Captain Kremmen and I remember Kenny Everett. So elephantine is my memory that I can even remember both of them at the same time but the record itself means nothing to me.

I have to say, it isn't the most thrilling song I've ever heard.

Or the most interesting video.

Now Noel's with two baffling looking women.

And now it's Santana in a video that seems to have been filmed on a mobile phone, which is quite an achievement in 1977.

Then again there's that infamous footage that seems to show a woman using a mobile phone in the 1920s, or whenever it was, so all things are possible.

I still don't have a clue who the singer is. My Steve Senses tell me it's probably not Colin Blunstone, despite what I thought last week.

Have we actually seen Santana yet?

But yes! Hooray! At last we get to see him, fuzzily, just in time for him to be faded out. Poor old Santana. Not even allowed to star in his own videos.

Not needing a video - because she's here in person - it's Tina Charles who, according to Noel, has a Love Bug. What an unfortunate link that is.

Darts are back.

And Daddy Cool's still playing his piano machine. I wonder what exactly a piano machine actually does?

Den's still looking far too inhibited.

ABBA are still Number 1.

And we go out with Rod.

When I say, "Go out," I of course don't mean that in the Rod Stewart sense of the phrase. Despite rumours to the contrary, I'm not, after all, a statuesque Scandinavian blonde.

I have to say this week's show wasn't really up there with last week's blockbuster epic but it did at least give us Darts, Roxy Music and the Bee Gees - and what I'll always regard as Elvis Costello's first Top of the Pops appearance even though it wasn't.

In some ways, tonight's edition was ahead of its time, with mobile phone recorded videos, and in some ways it was behind its time, with a revived classic from 1972. But I suppose that sums up this time of year for you, when we look both forward at what's to come and backwards at what's already been. In that sense, perhaps it captured the quintessence of the pre-festive season. Then again, maybe I'm just desperately trying to think up some philosophical point with which to end this post.

Blimey! Look at that! I've managed it!

Top of the Pops: 3rd November 1977.

The Carpenters in 1972.
White House photo by Knudsen, Robert L.
[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A new face joins us for this week's show. It's Perky Peter Powell, surely the world's cheeriest living human. Will he be able to maintain that cheeriness through half an hour of 1977's finest music, or will he be left a bitter twisted husk of a man vowing never again to work in British television?

Only the next thirty minutes can tell us.

But it's ELO over the rundown, doing Turn To Stone. And that can only mean one thing; we're off to a flying start and Peter's sanity won't be crushed just yet.

Nor will it be even now because we're suddenly served up the Jam with The Modern World.

To be honest, it's not one of my favourite Jam tracks, being blessed with a tune I can never in any way, shape or form remember but it's still the Jam; and bad Jam is better than no Jam.

As if to prove it, Peter's back, with sanity resolutely uncrushed.

I'm not totally sure I can say the same for the Carpenters, who join us for their legendary cover of Klaatu's Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft.

You can tell the Star Wars/CE3K sci-fi boom's starting to hit big. And was that Meco I spotted in the chart rundown?

But the special effects budget for this video must have been epic. It's a wonder Steven Spielberg wasn't straight on the phone to them to get them to redo the SFX on Close Encounters Of The Third Kind for him.

Well, aliens might be coming for us but, more importantly, so is Christmas. And that can only mean a visit from the band who only seemed to exist when there was tinsel in the air. It's the Barron Knights with Live In Trouble.

They're doing the impossible and sending up the Floaters who themselves went so far into the realms of self-parody that they came right back out the other end.

I'm not sure I'm enjoying any of this but the the Barron Knights clearly are.

Someone I'm bound to enjoy more are Queen giving us We Are The Champions

I've always remembered the first time I saw this video on Top of the Pops - mostly because Freddie's half black and half white in it, like that bloke in Star Trek.

Unlike that bloke in Star Trek, Freddie doesn't go mad and start trying to strangle himself.

But who's that on bass? Is it the bloke who normally played bass for Queen? As you can see, I have an encyclopedic knowledge of the band and its membership.

Sadly, an encyclopedic knowledge of Dorothy Moore is something I gravely lack. And so, as Legs and Co come on, dancing to her track I Believe You, I must confess it's a song I'm not familiar with. Its style is, however, highly familiar.

As for Legs, they seem to be wearing their shower curtains - and not in a good way.

But, hooray! It's Status Quo and Rocking All Over the World.

It's easy to knock the Quo - and just calling them that has suddenly made me sound like Les Battersby - but no one does empty-headed knees-up music quite like them.

As for Peter, he's getting bouncier as it goes along. I actually think he's filled with helium and only held tethered to the ground by a piece of string.

And now! At last! It's David Bowie! After all these months, they've finally let him on the show!

Then again, maybe they shouldn't have. He's doing Heroes and, to be honest, this is rubbish compared to the record.

The wall of sound seems to have been replaced by a desultory attempt at light hedging that's been hit by a half-hearted stab at topiary

Is this the Top of the Pops band playing? I can't help feel they lack a certain bite.

After a complacent sounding start, David's starting to give it some but, without an equal level of some-givingness by his band, I fear it's all doomed to do a classic record poor justice.

These days, I actually can't see David Bowie without seeing Ricky Gervais in my head. That can't be a good thing, can it?

But what's on next is definitely a good thing.

It's Showaddywaddy, with Dancing Party.

It's a radical departure from their usual sound.

Well, OK, it's not. It's exactly the same song they always have hits with.

But they're getting stuck in - the extraneous members, especially, demonstrating how to turn extraneity into a crowd-pleasing asset.

Dare one suggest they're giving David Bowie a lesson in how to do the show?

A band who don't need any lessons in how to do the show - mostly because they never bother appearing on it - are ABBA, and they're Number 1 with Name of the Game.

But, meanwhile, is that Smokie I hear on the play-out?

I do believe it is.

To be honest, whatever mood I come to this show in, I often find myself having to bury rather than praise it.

But, this time, resistance is futile. Tonight's edition was packed with great songs - and at least one great performance from the band they don't call The Wadd. And, if the Jam and David Bowie weren't at their very best, at least they were there.

I can only credit Peter Powell who must have somehow worked his smiley, bouncy magic to lift the show to undreamed of heights. Well done, Peter. Long may you reign over us. Now please don't get arrested before your next appearance.

Top of the Pops: 27th October, 1977.

David Bowie was supposed to be on tonight's show but,
thanks to the Dave Lee Travis thing, wasn't.
Poor David. He must be wondering if he'll ever get to appear
on Top of the Pops.
Meanwhile, here is is in 1974, by AVRO
(Beeld En Geluid Wiki - Gallerie: Toppop 1974)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Well, it's all been a right old kerfuffle, with tonight's planned edition being pulled, thanks to the Dave Lee Travis arrest.

But, undeterred by such shocks and surprises, I'm here and raring to go.

Can David Kid Jensen pull off a coup and be the first Top of the Pops presenter not to get arrested at an inconvenient moment?

Only the next half hour can tell.

 And we kick off with Santana doing She's Not There.

Who's doing the singing on this? I assume it's not Carlos.

Is it Colin Blunstone? It sounds like him.

And this week's obligatory Rock and Roll revivalists are...

...Slade!

But not looking or sounding like Slade.

Noddy of course still sounds like Noddy. Even in these days of the much-lauded New Rock, some things don't change.

They seem to be doing My Baby Left Me. That's All Right.

They're doing it competently enough but is this really what we want to hear from our favourite Wolverhampton foot-stompers?

Dave's gone bald. Is this an attempt to jump on that New Music bandwagon that's sweeping the land?

Definitely not trying to jump on that bandwagon is Mary Mason who's here to treat us to her version of Any Way That You Want Me.

She doesn't look very happy.

Was this from a musical?

Whatever it's from, it's not grabbing me.

It's turned into Angel Of The Morning but I'm still not getting into it.

Massive eyelashes cast humongous shadows across her face, like the legs of giant, eyeball-eating spiders.

And now it's all gone Cilla Black.

Learning nothing from recent scandals, Kid's with a zillion young girls.

And now Darts are here with Daddy Cool.

I did always feel Darts should have been the cast of Blake's 7. Somehow you could see them pulling it off.

A man's playing a guitar solo on his saxophone, which takes some doing.

And now Den Heggarty's getting stuck in.

He still looks like Beaker from the Muppets.

But forget Muppets - because Ram Jam are back, and being danced to by Legs and Co.

Incited by such wild music, they're going for it, the brazen hussies.

Lots of hair flinging.

Fists in your face from one of them

And now Kid's back, with yet more young girls.

Possibly, I think, singing about the more mature woman, it's Rod Stewart and You're In My Heart.

What a lovely song this is - one of those tracks, like Nobody Does It Better, that you could only imagine coming out in 1977.

And he's, so far, resisted the urge to ruin it by waving his bum in our face.

But who was the big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent? It can't have been Britt Ekland. That wouldn't make any sense at all.

And just what are Celtic United?

You have to hand it to him, only Rod Stewart could do a tender love song that massed ranks could wave their scarves along to.

Now it's Boney M and Belfast.

I do always feel this track was somewhat of a mistake.

Leaving aside the fact it's got to be one of the dullest hits they ever had - and its optimism for the city proved hopelessly premature - does anyone really want to see Boney M tackling social politics of the day?

And, speaking of people who should be in Blake's 7, what on Earth are they wearing? Let's be honest, nothing says, "The Troubles," more than dressing up like something from Star Maidens From Outer Space.

The truth is, I'm getting bored listening to it, and I can't usually say that about Boney M.

No reason to be bored next - because it's Tom Robinson, making his debut with 2-4-6-8 Motorway.

Is it my imagination? The show's volume seems to have dropped noticeably for Tom.

I must admit, despite my liking for the record, this seems a workmanlike performance and he's coming across like an English teacher trying to convince his class he's a punk star.

People who didn't need to convince anyone of anything are on next, as ABBA give us The Name of The Game.

I love this song. I love this video. When it comes to ABBA, they're both the virtual definition of quintessential.

Is that Ludo they're playing? You don't get enough Ludo in modern pop.

And now it's Smokey Robinson with what Kid tells us is the theme from The Big Time.

He doesn't mean that Esther Rantzen show, does he? The one that discovered Sheena Easton?

It's not very interesting, whatever it is.

The audience looking riveted by Smokey's performance.

He's brought his band with him but he seems to have forgotten to bring a song with him.

Kid's back with more girls.

Kid's flirting with one of them.

And Baccara are somehow at Number 1.

It's that same terrible performance we seem to have had inflicted on us every week for months now.

Is it me or is the drummer not quite in time?

Then again I once read a thing in a newspaper, where a Classical musicologist said the secret of the Beatles' greatness was Ringo never quite drumming in time, so perhaps Baccara were shrewder than we might have thought.

Oh my God, it's Peter Powell, Radio 1's newest recruit!

Oh my God, it's the Sex Pistols and Holidays In The Sun!

Like the sneakiest of sneaky devils, the show leaves its two big dramatic reveals till right at the end!

What a mixed bag that all was, with probably the least memorable record Slade ever unleashed on the 1970s public, Tom Robinson's debut and the shock arrival of Peter Powell and the Sex Pistols. Overall, despite Mary Mason, Smokey Robinson and Baccara, I generally approved of it.

And no one got arrested. Which, let's face it, these days, is the most important thing on a music show.

Top of the Pops: 28th April, 1977.

10CC By AVRO (Beeld En Geluid Wiki - Gallerie: Toppop 1974)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons.

Britain's greatest music show's clearly determined to work me into a frazzle by broadcasting two editions in one night.

Needless to say I shall rise like a lion to this challenge by running away from it and saving my account of the second of tonight's shows for a couple of days' time when the internet has had chance to recover from the strain of this posting.

It's Steve Does Top of the Pops' first ever cliff-hanger. I feel just like an episode of Dr Who.

But first it's Dave Lee Travis doing the honours.

And, with no introduction from him, we launch straight into a song by...

...someone.

The first few bars in and I still don't know what it is yet. So far it all sounds a bit Cockney Rebel but the singer seems to be Mr Benn – and I don't mean Anthony Wedgwood.

We're well into the thing and I still don't have a clue who it is. Is it someone from a musical? They sound like Queen but don't look like them.

Is that Mika on guitar?

Frankly I'm baffled. Is that the bloke from The Band on the drums?

Whoever they are, they do seem fixated with money.

Dave Lee's back-announced them but I didn't hear what he said. So I still don't have a clue who they were or what they were on about.

Not only that but, while I was typing, I missed the intro to the next act.

It's a woman being danced to by a totally different woman who I assume to be from Legs and Co.

Actually I'm not sure it is a woman singing. It might be a high-pitched man.

Wait. It seems to be I Wanna Get Next To You. If only I could remember who did that.

Was it Gladys Knight?

Oh. No. It seems it is a man singing.

It turns out it was Rose Royce, danced to by Pauline, which leaves me no closer to knowing if it was a man or a woman singing.

Now for a bunch of people whose gender is never in doubt. It's the Detroit Spinners with Could It Be I'm Falling In Love?

Blimey they're getting stuck in. They're moving around like their backsides are on fire. You have to hand it to them; they're not very coordinated but they certainly are frisky.

Now it's 10cc and Good Morning, Judge.

I liked this when I was younger but will I like it now? I must confess that, in adulthood, the appeal of 10cc has paled somewhat. I can't help feeling they sacrificed emotional integrity for the sake of futile cleverness.

Now that it's almost over, I've come to the conclusion that Good Morning, Judge is still acceptable to my adult ears, although I'm really not that bothered if I never hear it again.

From them, we launch into Joe Tex, with Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman) in another clip from Soul Train.

I do like what I've seen of Soul Train. Everyone on it seems to be enjoying themselves so much more than the audience on TOTP ever do - although you do start to realise after a while that each of the the dancers has just one move that they keep repeating endlessly like they're a living animated gif. It's an effect that reminds me of the dancing scenes they sometimes used to have in old Charlie Brown cartoons.

Someone's got up on stage to dance with Joe! If it were TOTP instead of Soul Train, that person would've been Dave Lee Travis. Bearing in mind the title of the song, he'd probably have been in drag and blacked up. I'm sure that would've gone down well on Soul Train.

Next it's Kiki Dee. Until I started watching these repeats, I never realised how many hits she'd had. Or what an attractive woman she was. For some reason, until I was reintroduced to her by these shows, I'd always remembered her as having a face like a slapped haddock. What a fool I was.

Billy Ocean's back for what seems like his 99th consecutive week. I don't mind, as it's a great song and he always gives it his all but he does seem to be hogging the show somewhat.

At least this time he's got company, as he now has a pair of dancers with him.

I assume they're also from Legs and Co, clearly determined not to be outdone by Pauline's earlier bid for solo glory.

I once bought some wrapping paper like Billy Ocean's jacket. It was actually quite expensive.

When I say expensive, I mean I didn't get it from Poundland. I might have got it from WH Smiths.

Barbra Streisand is on now with Evergreen.

This is all a bit creepy. Some bloke with his back to us keeps doing stuff to her.

Is it Kris Kristofferson? We can't see his face and I always get him mixed up with Kurt Russell anyway.

Either way, it's a terrible video. Objects and backs of heads keep getting in the way, and now Babs is trying to strangle herself.

Barry Biggs is back with a thing called You're My Life.

What the hell is he wearing?

He's somehow managing to make Billy Ocean look conservatively dressed.

Frankly, I don't fancy his chances of reaching the top of those stairs.

I never realised before that Barry Biggs looks remarkably like Hans Holbein's portrait of Henry VIII, with the huge body, the beard and the tiny head.

Not that ABBA need worry about that - or anything else. With the staying power that saw them become Sweden's biggest export apart from Volvo, they're still Number 1.

This week's victim of the play-out curse is Rod Stewart with First Cut is the Deepest, which, going on previous experience, presumably means we'll never get to see it on the show proper.

All in all, it was an odd edition. In terms of quality it was probably the most consistent since I started watching. Off the top of my head, I can't remember a single bad song - even the first act were too weird and disorienting to actually be described as bad - but, then again, it seemed an oddly unfocused show that never quite got into its stride. The breaking up of Legs and Co into splinter groups was a noteworthy innovation and it'll be interesting to see if it's a policy that's maintained in coming weeks.

Top of the Pops: 21st April, 1977.

Because Jolene Blalock alone cannot keep Aggy satisfied,
here's ex-Star Trek Voyager sex-bomb Jeri Ryan.
Photo by Gary Burke  (Jeri Ryan)
[CC-BY-SA-2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

It's been an exciting day today, as the nation's gone to the polls to decide just who's going to be ruling our towns and cities for the next few years.

But there's only one man rules our hearts.

And that's Tony Blackburn.

Why?

Because only he can guide us through the strongholds and marginals that are the pop charts of 1977.

And we kick off with someone or other.

Is it Eddie and the Hot Rods? I'm basing this assumption on the singer's bared chest and the fact he's moving around a fair bit. I don't have a clue what it's called but I do know it's not Do Anything You Wanna Do.

He's dangerously close to doing the splits. Some things I don't want to see even on TOTP. I can't help feeling he's what you'd have got if Iggy Pop and Get It Together's Roy North had produced a love-child. Then again, who's to say they didn't?

It WAS Eddie and the Hot Rods. No wonder they let me do a life-or-death blog about pop when I have musical knowledge like that.

On the other hand, here's OC Smith. Apart from him having a very well-known TV show named after him that featured the bloke who was Jim Robinson in Neighbours, I still don't have a clue who he is.

Is this the song he did the other week? Or is it another one?

He still looks like Phil Lynott's dad.

I'm still not gripped by it.

It's all gone scary as we suddenly get a weird lingering close-up of a woman's face.

But no. It's not just any weird woman's face. It's a Legs and Co weird woman's face.

They're dancing to Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder.

I must confess I've never been a Stevie Wonder fan. I always like his songs when they start but, after about a minute, I'm always starting to lose the will to live.

Legs and Co are very shiny and sparkly tonight. I don't know whose idea those outfits were but one thing's for sure, the chicken'll be going without bacofoil this week.

They've flashed their bums! It's shocking the things people'll get up to now it's 1977. I've got a good mind to ring Mary Whitehouse. Wherever will this Rock and Roll anarchy end? I predict, if it's not checked, it'll end with people wearing meat bikinis. And I'm making that prediction in 1977, so, if I'm proven right, it'll be an incredible act of foresight.

Now it's Tavares.

I remember this one. I remember liking it - mostly because it mentions Ellery Queen.

I remember seeing the pilot ep for the Ellery Queen show in the 1970s and concluding that Ellery Queen was the murderer. I didn't realise it was Part 1 of a series and he couldn't be the murderer because that would've made it a very short series. I'm still smarting over the humiliation.

Tavares, meanwhile, are giving an oddly winning performance. You wouldn't exactly call their dance routine twinkle-toed but you can't help liking them.

It's time to round-up the votes of the Steve jury as Mike Moran and Lynsey de Paul are back with Rock Bottom.

I don't care how pretty she is, I just can't warm to Lynsey. There's still something I don't trust about her.

Actually it's probably because she is pretty that I don't trust her. I don't mind beautiful people – I'm fairly scrumptious myself - but they who are pretty, I don't trust.

The audience look bored rigid.

I don't blame 'em.

It's no Scooch.

Leo Sayer's on now. I don't recognise the track yet and I thought I knew every hit Leo ever had.

I know it now he's finally started singing. It's How Much Love. I think this is one of his high-pitched ones.

What a strange video. There's millions of Leos leaping up and down, spinning around, floating about in mid-air, and mostly being silhouettes.

I'm trying to work out if it's heavily influenced by Elton John or if Elton John was heavily influenced by Leo Sayer. Either way, this track could easily have been on an Elton John album.

Now for Delegation and Where Is The Love?

Someone else had a hit with a song called Where Is The Love, didn't they? Was it Black Eyed Peas? Or was it Lisa Stansfield? Or was it both?

As for Delegation, I'm not familiar with them but their style's familiar.

It's very pleasant but very like the Real Thing. I suspect you could easily sing Can't Get By Without You right over the top of it.

Elkie Brooks is back – and backless. I hope she's not going to be sexy again. The trouble I got into last time over the whole issue of Elkie and sexiness. All I can say is I will never again question the untrammelled eroticism of Elkie Brooks.

Deniece Williams is back with Free. It's another one I always like for the first minute before completely losing all interest.

She's doing strange hand movements to try and keep us interested. She's succeeding. I'm still not interested in the song but I am at least strangely taken by her hand gestures.

Now she's starting to sound like a kettle boiling.

ABBA are still at Number 1.

This week's show seems to have flown by, which I suppose means I must've found it entertaining even though there was little on it you'd call either remarkable or memorable.

And, continuing the TOTP tradition of saving the best song till the play-out, we finish with Peter Gabriel and Solsbury Hill.

This is bad news. I think I'm starting to get how it works; which is that, once a track's been on the play-out, it's doomed to never be on the show proper. Which presumably means Peter's had it.

That's a shame, as Solsbury Hill's one of the few songs from 1977 that I'd call a classic.

Top of the Pops: 14th April, 1977

The same old troubles finding a Free-Use Image of any of tonight's acts, so
here's a shot of ex-Star Trek sexpot Jolene Blalock in Cairo.
Jolene was in  Star Trek Enterprise. Popular music is a form of private
enterprise. Therefore Jolene has many valid links with Top of the Pops.
Photo by Jolene Blalock (Canon Eos)
[GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0], via Wikimedia Commons

A wise man once demanded we, "Clunk click every trip."

That man was Jimmy Savile.

That man is our host tonight.

And that's good news, because we're on a trip to the past and, on previous TOTP form, the odd clunk can be practically guaranteed.

As always, I have no idea who the first act is, as they and I haven't been formally introduced. By the looks of things, they come with no shortage of frills but will they be equally well-stocked with thrills?

Seemingly not.

It is the first time I've ever heard this, so I may be being premature in my judgement but, so far, it sounds terrible. I would say they have a singing drummer but, to be honest, I'm not sure that, whatever it is those strange noises are that're emanating from his mouth, that they qualify as singing - or any other form of communication known to man. The last time I experienced such sounds coming from a human being, I was reading an HP Lovecraft novel, and a giant space octopus was involved.

I do know though that someone's beautiful.

I know that because the main singer – the one who's not the drummer - keeps saying it, over and over and over again. I think he's after the world record for the most number of times anyone's ever said the word, "beautiful," in one lifetime.

Thankfully Sir Jimmy's back to tell us they were The Brothers, who I seem to remember having been on a few weeks ago, although I'm sure they seemed like a totally different group of people back then.

Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr are back with You Don't Have to be a Star.

It's the same vid as before.

As we've already seen it, I think I can gloss over it all, other than to say the spinning Dalek's still with them and that the pair of them still remind me of the Chanter Sisters, with their moves.

Good grief! It's Brendon again! Who'd have thought he'd get to appear on Top of the Pops quite so many times?

He's playing a guitar! This is what I like about him. He introduces a new element every time he appears. Last time, it was smiling. This time, it's playing an instrument. Who knows what wonders he might unleash on us if allowed a fourth visit?

He does have a look of Stan Boardman about him.

It's a terrible admission for one of my intense musical credibility to make but it's actually starting to grow on me. This is mostly because - God bless him - Brendon's doing everything he can to sell it to us.

David Soul's still at Number 2. And this time we actually get to see him.

He still looks like the kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. But, then, he probably feels like the kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, with all the records he's selling lately.

Now Jimmy's with a strange looking man in dark glasses. It's not Roy Orbison and it's not the bloke from the Rubettes.

The Stylistics are back and, right from the off, the singer looks startled.

I really have never seen a man look so permanently surprised.

They seem to be dancing a bit faster than they were last time.

I'm starting to realise why. Is it my imagination or is the track accelerating as they go along? Like the tape deck's out of control?

It literally seems to be getting too fast for them to keep up with comfortably. No wonder the main man looks startled. The way it keeps velocitising, it must be all he can do to keep from bursting into flames.

From that oddly frenetic thing, to something far more sedate, as John Williams and Cleo Laine give us Feelings.

Sadly it's not the Star Wars John Williams. It would've been great seeing Cleo Laine trying to sciddly diddly daddly doodlie her way through Darth Vader's march of menace.

To be honest, I think this must've been the part of the show when everyone was expected to go and put the kettle on.

My dad was always a big fan of Cleo Laine but, on her performance here, she seems completely mental. Frankly, she's scaring me - especially when she look straight at the camera. It's like she can see right through the screen and at me. I'm starting to worry she's going to climb out of the TV, crawl across the floor and get me, like that woman in The Ring.

"I wish I'd never met you, boy," she's singing. Personally, I'm glad she's never met me.

This is rotten. I mean, seriously, why's she singing like that? It's like she's some weird form of human theremin.

This is more like it. It's Andrew Gold with Lonely Boy. He may never have been fashionable but Goldy knew how to bang out a catchy tune. Of course, he is currently suffering the handicap of being danced to by Legs and Co.

I really don't see what this cheery routine has to do with a song about loneliness.

Now it's all gone a bit, "At the Hop."

It's like, in their heads, they're dancing to a totally different track from the one we're hearing.

Billy Ocean's back. It's the performance from a couple of weeks ago, which means there's no new developments on the collars-and-cuffs front. But it's a great song and a great performance. If only all acts on TOTP had Billy's gusto.

ABBA are still Number 1. It's still that video. You'd think they'd have got cold by now and decided to go somewhere warm.

I've just realised, the bloke in ABBA who doesn't have a beard reminds me of Bill Mumy who had a sort of hit with the magnificently bizarre Fish Heads and played an alien in Babylon-5. I think he was also Will Robinson in Lost in Space but don't quote me on that.

I wonder if anyone else in ABBA reminds me of anyone?

No.

They don't.

That game didn't last long. :(

They're playing out with Boney M and Sunny. I love Boney M. I love Sunny. This means that, as far as I'm concerned, the show's going out on a high.

Regardless of whatever musical highs and lows it may have had, the thing that most sticks in my mind about tonight's show is a feeling of dread.

Dread at the disturbing tour de force of madness that was Cleo Laine. But also at the audience members Sir Jimmy was hanging around with throughout the show, who seemed to get more and more menacing as it went along. If the past really is a foreign land, it seems it's a foreign land we must sometimes mark with just three words.

"Here be dragons."

Top of the Pops: 7th April, 1977.

Yet again I couldn't find a decent Free Use image of any
of tonight's acts, so here's a pic of Spider-Man sexpot
Emma Stone looking like an explosion in a Christmas
cracker factory.
As well as playing Gwen Stacy in the new movie, Emma
was a founding member of The Family Stone and is thus
massively relevant to Top of the Pops.
By Mark Kari (Emma Stone)
[CC-BY-SA-2.0
(www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons.

It's a case of, "Phasers on stunned,” as we once more beam down to the year that Mankind knows as 1977. What hideous nightmare creatures'll await us when we get there?

And what unlikely allies?

It's David “Kid” Jensen injecting a bit of energy into proceedings with his intro. It's a long way from the deliberate cheesiness of Tony Blackburn.

But who'll be the first band on - the one cursed to never be introduced, leaving the audience perpetually baffled as to who it is they've just seen?

It's the Dead End Kids, socking it to us with their own unique brand of anarchy, by reliving the glory days of proto-punk outfit the Bay City Rollers.

I don't want to harp on about it but that really is an epic quantity of hair the singer's got. I do swear that if he fell off a cliff and landed on his head he'd simply bounce on it for several yards before coming to a peaceful and serene halt.

He's banging his chimes.

And they still carry on playing after he turns his back on them. Being able to play chimes without touching them's a rare gift too few modern pop stars possess.

Now it's Deniece Williams and Free. Not that I didn't like the Dead End Kids, but this is more like it.

Actually it isn't. Despite my initial enthusiasm, I'm getting a bit bored with it now. Like They Shoot Horses Don't They? it's a song that sounds better in your memory than it does in reality. It's all very nice but it could do with livening up a bit.

If only Deniece had the Dead End Kids' chimes to fall back on.

Not literally, of course. Falling onto a set of chimes would make a terrible racket and be against the spirit of Disco.

Deniece has gone and it's Showaddywaddy. They're still wearing the multi-coloured outfits.

I do find it worrying that I always seem to like the naff acts more than the classy ones.

Is it just me or are there more of them than ever? As with Boz Scaggs' band, they seem to multiply like Tribbles every time you look away from the screen.

Kid's just told us he has a Saturday morning show. Does this mean Fearne “Kid” Cotton's been given the push to make way for him? If so I must make a note to tune in.

Now it's Elkie Brooks again. Not only is she doing the whole retro-thing like Manhattan Transfer but, like the singer of that combo, she's wearing a thin dress with no supporting garment beneath. She's not rampantly nipple-tastic like the singer of Manhattan Transfer but she is more jigglesome. This goes against all I've ever held dear, as I've never thought of Elkie Brooks as sexy before, seeing her as a sexless matriarchal figure like the mother in the OXO ads.

Cliff Richard's back, with My Kind of Life. He's giving it plenty of effort but neither he nor his faceless guitarist can disguise the fact it's not one of his classics.

No offence to Cliff but I've taken to looking out the window while I wait for him to finish. Despite us being in the middle of the worst drought since the year before this show was first broadcast, it's bucketing it down out there.

The Manhattans. My expert musical knowledge tells me they're no relation to the aforementioned Manhattan Transfer – though, by the way the record starts, they might be some relation to Barry White.

Suddenly they're all pointing. I don't know why.

They certainly have slicker and livelier moves than the Stylistics did last week.

More pointing!

They've got more pointing than my gables.

Now they're spinning!

You can tell they've been rehearsing. I don't know if the song's any good – there doesn't really seem to be one - but I like the choreography.,

The audience are shuffling around, clueless as ever. Wherever did they find so many young people with no sense of rhythm whatsoever?

Kid's surrounded by female boxers!

What am I on about? It's not just any female boxers. It's Legs and Co, done up as pulchritudinous pugilists in order to dance to Maxine Nightingale's Love Hit Me. At last, after weeks of sensible and restrained performances, Flick Colby's returned to her insanity of old.

This is so absurd it can only be labelled genius. Why isn't this as famous as her Disco Duck routine?

Spinning!

But, sadly, no pointing.

This is the first time I've ever thought of Legs and Co as sexy.

OC Smith and a track called Together. I could lie right now and say I have knowledge of OC Smith that'd intimidate even Wikipedia but the truth is I'm completely unfamiliar with both he and the song.

I do know he's another one with big hair.

Its not as big as the bloke from the Dead End Kids but he too need have no fear of mountain tops.

Was this filmed at the same time as the Deniece Williams video? It seems to have the same dancing members of the public in it.

Like Deniece Williams, it's struggling to hold my attention.

He looks like Phil Lynott's dad.

I wonder if he is?

After what seems like an aimless eternity, OC's finally finished, and now Elkie's with Kid.

Isn't she petite?

“A position I would like to see her in,” says Kid of Elkie. I just bet you would, you naughty boy.

ABBA are Number 1 and still trapped in that video.

I'm in trouble now. How can I possibly find anything new to say about it?

I can't.

So I might as well just watch it.

And we're playing out with Smokie. As we should. It wouldn't be TOTP without them.

The producer's giving them a good old play. None of that early fade-out stuff for them. Early fade-outs are reserved for lesser acts, like David Bowie and Elvis Presley.

I must say this week's edition did drag badly in places, especially whenever videos shot on one particular set reared their slow-tempo head, and there was little on it that we haven't seen before in recent weeks.

But I did learn much in this week's show. I learned that Deniece Williams is a thing best left to nostalgia and that, despite being named after a giant ungulate, Elkie Brooks is somehow daintier than I thought.

I also discovered the burgeoning sexuality of both Elkie Brooks and Legs and Co, meaning that, at last, at the age of 48, I'm going through a strange kind of surrogate puberty on their behalf. Well, that at least was certainly worth tuning in for.

Top of the Pops: 31st March, 1977.

Lynsey De Paul by AVRO
(Beeld En Geluid Wiki - Gallerie: Toppop 1973)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

A week; it's a long time in politics but nothing compared to a fortnight in popular music. What massive changes'll have swept through British musical culture in the two weeks since the last edition of everyone's favourite music show? What new musical empires'll have risen, and which will have fallen?

Only Diddy David Hamilton can tell us. For it is he who's to guide us tonight through the brave new world of pop we're set to encounter.

I do feel sorry for the first act on each week because they never get an introduction. It must've been hugely frustrating; you get your big break, appearing on TOTP, excited about the huge boost it's going to lend your career, and then no one has a clue who you are because you weren't introduced.

This week has to be a perfect case in point because I don't have a Scooby who the opening act are. They seem quite easy-going - a bit Smokie but without their charisma, or the self-confidence that comes from having been on virtually every week since the dawn of time.

Whoever they are, their song seems to be called Capture Your Heart and, lack of introduction aside, they seem quite pleased to be there.

But why do I have a feeling they were to never be there again?

Apparently they were Blue. Amazing to think that Blue were around back in the 1970s - though Antony Costa's clearly changed a lot since then.

Now it's Billy Ocean and Red Light Spells Danger. He seems to be going for the world record for the size of collars and cuffs a man can support before the sheer weight of them renders him immobile.

Legs and Co are on next, dancing to David Soul and This Time I'm Going In With My Eyes Open.

The last time I saw skirts like that they were on one of those dolls that boarding house landladies used to use to cover up toilet rolls.

In a shock twist, David Dundas is back, out to prove he had more than one hit in him.

He has a very strange look on his face,

On the strength of this and his last one, I do get the feeling he was the Mungo Jerry of his day.

It's all quite Eurovision.

Which leads us perfectly into Lynsey De Paul and Mike Moran, flying the flag for Blighty, with Rock Bottom. It can't be easy having a rock bottom - especially if you have Dave Edmunds' rock piles.

But it shows how the memory plays tricks on you. I remember talking about this in the playground at primary school, which is impossible as it didn't come out until I was in secondary school.

I know people love her and she has the most popular mole outside of Wind In The Willows but I always felt there was something vaguely sinister about Lynsey de Paul, a feeling that refuses to go away.

I would say there's something sinister about Mike Moran but there isn't.

This always reminds me of a Bill Oddie song that often got played during silent scenes in The Goodies.

Berni Flint's back.

And now he's gone, replaced by The Stylistics - looking weirdly like Gerry Anderson puppets. This is the third song on this week's show that I have no memory of.

Their dancing can only be called half-hearted.

Their singer has a weird look of permanent startledness on his face.

And their dancing's still half-hearted.

The last few minutes have led me to conclude The Stylistics are a band best heard and never seen.

Bonnie Tyler's More Than A Lover is the fourth song on this week's show that I have no memory of. Can it be? Can our hero be going senile?

Argkh! That first note was a bit rough. Frankly, if a bloke on your local building site came out with it, you'd send him off for a packet of Strepsils.

Though, in fairness to her, she's looking better than I remember.

What does this tune sound like?

Is it When Doves Cry? Or is it Time to Hide by Wings? Or is it something else altogether?

Whatever it sounds like, I quite like it. It has a vague unconventionality about it.

Now Mike Nesmith's on, talking to David Hamilton and plugging his song Rio.

He has a beard!

Did he ever talk in The Monkees? I don't remember

Whatever, he wasn't with David for long.

ABBA are at Number 1, with Knowing Me, Knowing You: A-Haaaaa.

It's still that video. They're still freeze-framing and looking through each other. I still prefer the one who's not blonde. She looks cheeky. The blonde one never looked cheeky.

We play out with Elvis and Blue Bayou.

I do feel sorry for David Bowie though. He's now at Number 5, having been on the chart for what seems like months, and still can't get on the show. I only hope it doesn't finish his career.

In summary, I do feel this week's show was a let-down after the upturn in quality we got a fortnight ago, full of songs that made so little impression on me at the time that I had no memory of them, mostly mid-tempo and resolutely unchallenging. The fact that – ABBA aside - a Bonnie Tyler song I've never heard before in my entire life was the highlight can't be taken as a good sign.

Still, the good thing about TOTP is that no matter how disappointing an edition might be, there's always the hope that next week's will be better.

And that David Bowie might finally be allowed on.

Top of the Pops: 17th March, 1977.

Billy Ocean sings live, by Ronzoni (Own work)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0 or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons

Christmas may come just once a year but – bouts of Patrick Moore aside - Top of the Pops is with us every week.

And that's why Top of the Pops 1977 is 52 times better than Christmas.

So, what thrills, spills and ills will 1977 bring us?

Only Tony Blackburn can tell us; for it is he who's to guide us through tonight's Nephilim Fields of Nostalgia in which may lurk untold menace – and the Rubettes.

With no need for an introduction – which is a good thing because she didn't get one – it's Suzi Quatro with that not-altogether-classic song that I don't know the title of.

She's ditched the leather and changed her bass. She's giving us strange purple-y effects. I wonder what it's meant to signify?

Whatever it's meant to signify, it's failing to make the song seem any more exciting than it did last time.

“Don't talk to me about Louisiana Sue,” says Suzi. And, if I ever meet the bass-tastic Miss Q, I won't.

“Coz she can't do the things I can do.” For a start, she probably can't make everything go all purple-y. It's not a generally prized quality in a woman.

There's a man with a corked hat in the audience!

Up next it's Keith Flint's dad Berni. I seem to recall him winning Opportunity Knocks for eighty five million weeks running. In fact, for all I know he might be winning it every week still.

But what an engaging song I Don't Want To Put A Hold On You is. It's the sort of thing you could imagine David Soul doing but drowning it in treacle.

Berni doesn't make that mistake. As a seasoned Opp Knocks veteran, he keeps it as gloop-free as possible.

He seems an amiable cove. I wonder what happened to him? I hope he's still with us. I wouldn't want to think of bad things happening to Berni Flint.

ABBA are at Number 2.

It's Knowing Me Knowing You; A-ha. In which they claim to know about a 1980s' Norwegian pop trio that doesn't even exist yet.

This has to be the quintessential ABBA video; all freeze-framed hugging and meaningful looks. Though watching it does make you try to remember which one was married to which. I think all of them were married to all of them at one point. Even they probably lost track of who they were spliced to.

But this is why ABBA were better than the Brotherhood of Man; all that Nordic angst. The Brotherhood never got it. They aped the catchy tunes but forgot to include the misery.

Now it's Cliff and something called My Kind of Love. I don't know this one.

He's as wild and rebellious as ever.

He's reached the chorus and I suddenly realise I have it heard it before, though I don't know where.

Is that a Nashville guitar that man's playing? Despite being the world's greatest living guitarist, I couldn't claim to be an expert on such things.

As for the track, it's no We Don't Talk Any More and it's already starting to outstay its welcome.

Now there's two of him. Two Cliffs, like the ones Neptune pushed aside in Ray Harryhausen's Jason and the Argonauts.

From the British Elvis to the American original, as we get The Pelvis's Moody Blue danced to by Legs and Co. Those outfits are a bit revealing for this time of night; the strumpets. It's just a shame they have nothing much to reveal.

They're dressed like Princess Ardala in Buck Rogers.

I always preferred Princess Ardala to Wilma Deering. Wilma had the spray-on spacesuits but she was always a bit too wholesome for me to feel she could be entirely trusted. With Princess Ardala you always knew where you were – in trouble. Still, you could always win her round with a bit of impromptu disco dancing.

Now we get Barclay James Harvest.

I don't know much about them. My sister had one of their albums when I was younger. It wasn't what you'd call exciting. It featured a strange song made up entirely of lyrical phrases from old Beatles songs – and that was the highlight!

The world hasn't seen so much facial hair since Sasquatch lost his razor.

It's a bit like watching that bit in Spinal Tap when we see them before they became a heavy metal act.

You know you've landed in the 1970s when you see a double-barrelled guitar.

Maxine Nightingale. This is more like it, something a bit lively. And it's not the one you expect it to be - although it sounds noticeably like the one you'd expect it to be.

This is my favourite so far tonight.

No doubt she'll be eclipsed by Showaddywaddy later on.

And now, as promised, it is Showaddywaddy.

They've got different coloured jackets on from each other. Is it a sign of terrible splits in the camp or just a statement that they always wanted to be a packet of Opal Fruits?

The singer of Showaddywaddy always reminded me of Roy North.

When Will You Be Mine, it appears to be called.

As expected, with their slick ways, Showaddywaddy are proving to be the highlight of the show for me, so far. And who'd have thought, when we first watched this broadcast all those decades ago, we'd be saying that 35 years later? It's funny what does and doesn't stand the test of time.

Billy Ocean.

Red light.

He's looking cool and relaxed.

Like Debbie Harry, his head's disproportionately large for his body but I don't care. He's already eclipsing even the great Showaddywaddy in tonight's fame-packed firmament. Even the normally apathetic TOTP audience are moving to it – although in a way that suggests they can't hear it, so uncoordinated to the music are they.

At last it's number 1 time.

It's Manhattan Transfer and their nipples. It's the same nipples as last week.

I can't deny I may have been singing this in the last week. But that doesn't mean I actually wanted to hear it again.

Who're we playing out with? Tony Blackburn's not told us.

Hold on. Is this Boney M? For a moment I thought its intro sounded like Happy House by Siouxsie and the Banshees which didn't seem right for 1977.

Still no sign of Ken Morse. In the absence of Ken, my Top of the Pops experience feels, as always, incomplete.

I don't feel I learned much from this week's show. In fact I don't feel I learned anything.

But perhaps learning is overrated. Perhaps it's better by far to dwell in a cesspit of one's own ignorance. Perhaps, when it comes down to it, that's the lesson to be learned from this week's Top of the Pops. It's a lesson I decide I like.