Top of the Pops: 26th May, 1977.

In the absence of a free-use image of any of tonight's acts,
here's a photo of Twilight sexpot Kristen Stewart at Wondercon
2012.
Kristen Stewart has a very large chin. Nicky Chinn has written
very many large chart hits. Therefore Kristen Stewart has many
valid links with Top of the Pops.
Photo by Gage Skidmore
[CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)]
via Wikimedia Commons.

Football fever may be sweeping Europe even as I speak but there's only one goal that matters to the wise man.

And that's getting to Number 1 in 1977.

In that quest to reach the top, who'll smash it in from 35 yards and who'll score a pitiful own goal that has his own fans booing him off at half-time?

Only the man my late father used to know as Dave Lee Travesty can tell us. For it is he who's to guide us through the congested midfield of nostalgia and spray his balls deep and wide into the corridors of uncertainty.

We kick off with the original Blue, yet again getting the first, unannounced, slot on the show.

Sadly, the early start hasn't fired them up with enthusiasm. Their performance is as lacklustre as their previous one.

They're still going to take their soul to town but they're still not telling us what they're going to do with it when they get there. I like to think they're going to sell it to Satan but, given their dullness, I fear such melodrama to be beyond them.

But they've drifted away on the breeze and we're suddenly blessed with Olivia Newton John and Sam.

It's all very pleasant but I really don't have anything to say about it. Who could've thought when we were first hearing this that, a year later, she'd be giving us some of the most iconic pop moments of the 1970s?

It's the return of Liverpool Express. For such a barely remembered act, it really is amazing just how often they managed to be on TOTP.

Whatever the song is, it's not off to a promising start. So far, it's flatlining as badly as all their other stuff. I'm quickly coming to the conclusion that Liverpool Express were the Mogadon Smokie.

Would that make them Smogadon?

Didn't Godzilla once have a fight with Smogadon? If he didn't, he should have. After all, if Godzilla won't keep us safe from the terror of Smogadon then who will?

Not Dave Lee Travis, that's for sure. Now the song's finally curled up and died, he's up on stage with the culprits, doing something that approximates an interview. Such is the power of Dave Lee Travis that, within seconds of him joining them, Liverpool Express are trying to kill him. All of a sudden I'm warming to them.

Now it's Legs and Co and something that's clearly meant to be Chinese.

In fact it's meant to be Japanese because it's Bryan Ferry with Tokyo Joe.

It's another track I have very little to say about.

That's not the case with our next turn because, from out of the blue, we launch into the Stranglers with Go Buddy Go.

This is more like it.

Or is it?

Something's not quite right here. I was anticipating snarly spleen-venting and hard-core contempt but, in truth, they seem rather jolly. In all honesty the thing seems to owe more to Chas and Dave than it does to the Sex Pistols.

We get the keyboard solo and it's all starting to sound like the Only Fools and Horses theme. You have to say it's no No More Heroes.

Also no No More Heroes is Marie Myriam with this year's Eurovision winner.

This is quite nice. It's certainly better than Rock Bottom and she seems far less sinister than Lynsey De Paul.

It's one of those songs that doesn't really go anywhere and, so, craftily makes up for it by constantly building as it goes along.

Next up it's ELO and Telephone Line. DLT does the joke about them being from Yorkshire - the one he seemed to do every single time he ever played them on the radio.

Matching the debut of the Stranglers for out-of-the-blueness, is the left-field return of Brendon with another of his smashes. This time it's a thing that seems to be called Rock Me.

And this is weird because I quickly realise I remember this.

How can it be?

How can I remember a Brendon song? What madness is this that's come over me?

But this is strangely endearing.

He's doing his best to get the audience going.

And he's actually succeeding. The famously apathetic TOTP audience is actually clapping along with him. I do feel that in many ways Brendon has been the true star of TOTP since these repeats began, if only for his ability to engage with the audience in a way few acts seemed able to.

But now Brendon's gone and it's time for this week's Number 1. The half hour's flown by and we're back with Rod and his musical arse.

Appropriately, bearing in mind that this post began with European football talk, we play-out with the Liverpool team who've just won the European Cup.

In fairness it's about as close to punk as the Stranglers were.

So there we are. The Stranglers were a disappointment to me, bringing far too much pub and too little punk to the table. Brendon scored a personal triumph by getting the audience to notice he existed, and Liverpool Express almost killed Dave Lee Travesty. I don't think this week's show'll go down as a classic but at least we can't claim it was devoid of incident.

Top of the Pops: 12th May, 1977.

Kenny Rogers was edited out of tonight's early
edition - but not out of this blog.
By ACT1 at en.wikipedia
[GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)
or CC-BY-SA-3.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)]
from Wikimedia Commons

It might be Eurovision this weekend but there's a far more important battle for pop supremacy underway.

And that's the battle to be Number 1 thirty-five years ago.

Can ABBA reclaim their crown?

Will the sound of punk spit its way majestically to the top of the hit parade?

Or will some previously unexpected twist of musical fate appear from nowhere to claim that coveted crown?

Only Jimmy Savile can tell us.

And tell us he shall - for it's his turn to play Katie Boyle and guide us through the douze and nul pointers of this week's chart.

First up, it's someone or other.

The producers have done it to me again. They've started with an act I don't recognise at all.

This time it's not as bizarre as Contempt but it still seems a pretty rum set of coves.

Whoever they are, they clearly believe in having loads of sax.

That main singer's pelvic rotations and groinal thrustings are disturbing me. I'm not sure they're appropriate for a show like TOTP.

The group're very funky and groovy, whoever they are.

Jimmy's just told us they're all the way from that legendary home of funk - Southampton. And they're called Honky. There's a name you couldn't imagine a modern act having.

Barbra Streisand's back with that song about chairs.

But Kris Kristofferson seems to have disappeared since last week.

Oops! No! He's back again!

Stop kissing her hands, Kris! I don't like it. I like my TOTP performances to be devoid of all affection.

I'm sure it's a lovely song but it really doesn't hold my attention at all.

Was Kris Kristofferson in the Jessica Lange King Kong remake? Or was that Kurt Russell? I still can't remember which is which.

Now it's I'm Going to Capture Your Heart by someone or other. One of these days I'm going to have to try and pay attention to the intros, so I actually know who the acts are.

This is all pleasant but insipid.

And now my razor-sharp senses tell me that - from the huge writing on the drums - that they're called Blue. Weren't they on the other week, doing another song?

Either way, this track really isn't getting going at all.

“Gonna take my soul to town,” They declare. Why? Do they normally leave it behind?

Now it's The Trinidad Oil Company. Another act I've never heard of.

By the looks of it, they've literally brought the entire oil company along with them. And I thought Showaddywaddy were the most overstaffed group in history.

Now, for those who don't know what they are, they're helpfully running through the months of the year.

And now they're doing it again.

It's not what you'd call lyrically involved.

In fact, it's what some might call total crap.

Still, they all seem to be wearing fluorescent visibility clothing, so at least they won't get run over while they're in the studio.

Argh! We're suddenly on the receiving end of that music they used to use in The Muppets and The Benny Hill show. It might be called Mah-Na Mah-Na but don't quote me on that. Speaking as the only person on Earth who was immune to the appeal of the Muppets, I could do without it.

Dressed as giant flowers, Legs and Co have looks on their faces that suggest that even they think dancing to this is beneath them. It says something when even Legs and Co look down on your work.

And it just goes on and on and on...

And on and on....

Oh, for God's sake, go away!

The nightmare's finally over and we launch into 10cc with Good Morning, Judge and that video again.

Now it's The Martyn Ford Orchestra. Yet another act I've never heard of.

They're treating us to a song called Let Your Body Go Downtown. Yes do. But, as Blue could tell you, don't forget to take your soul with you.

Its bass-line sort of reminds me of the South Bank Show theme tune.

And, of course, its title reminds me of every song Lana Del Rey has so far recorded.

With its square-looking orchestra members and its "funky" singers, has there ever been an act whose two constituent parts seem so ill-designed to go together ?

Legs and Co are back, this time dancing to what might be Marvin Gaye. For some reason I can't imagine, they seem a lot more into this than they were Mah-Na Mah-Na.

But now that's over and at last we get a good record.

What am I talking about? It's not a good record. It's a great record.

It's Billy Paul and his version of Wings' Let 'Em In, which we all know is far superior to the original and brings a whole new dimension to it in a way few cover versions of songs have ever done.

Billy Paul looks like he's just walked in fresh from a movie.

The audience look like they've just been drugged. Move! For god's sake, you shuffling zombies of indifference! Move!

Sadly Martin Luther King couldn't be with us tonight and Billy's having to do all the speechifying himself. Personally I'm disappointed they didn't get Jimmy Savile to do the talky bits.

But this really does show the idiocy of the BBC's insistence on the acts having to record new versions of their hits for appearances on the show.

To be honest, I felt Billy was a little inhibited by the lack of proper speeches and the lifelessness of his audience.

Now it's Dr Feelgood with a song that might be called Lights Out.

It might be pub rock but, slowly but surely, we're edging closer towards punk actually putting in an appearance.

The singer seems quite angry. I'm not sure about what.

Perhaps he's angry about Deniece Williams still being Number 1.

In which case, he shouldn't be because it's still a very nice song and she's still doing that thing with her hand that impresses me more than it strictly ought to.

I wonder what's going to be on the play-out?

It's Joe Tex and Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman). It's an outrage. As we all saw a couple of weeks ago, a man like Joe deserves to be seen as well as heard.

But, then, tonight's show could be seen as a tale of people who deserve something other than what they've received, with Billy Paul deserving better than having to do a half-arsed version of his classic record, and the people behind Mah-Na Mah-Nah deserving a good shooting.

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.