Top of the Pops: 8th December, 1977.

Bing Crosby in 1942,
(Public Domain) via Commons Wikimedia.

For one whose heart is as hard as mine, Christmas is always horrific. But it's just got worse - because I now have to review two editions in one evening, instead of one.

Needless to say, I shall meet the dread challenge head-on by totally ignoring it and covering the latter episode on some other day.

But what of tonight? What tinselly magic can Tony Blackburn sprinkle upon us as we fire ourselves up for the Festive Season?

The first piece of magic he can weave is turning winter into summer as Donna of that name does the chart countdown with probably my fave track by her; Love's Unkind.

Sadly, we barely get to hear any of it before we meet the night's opening act.

And it's a bunch of people who look suspiciously like Billy Idol and Generation X though I can't claim to have ever heard the song before. In fact, I didn't know they'd ever bothered the chart compilers before about 1980.

You can say what you like about Billy Idol but he really was the new Cliff Richard and, to be honest, this actually manages to make Cliff sound like the voice of youthful rebellion.

Billy keeps saying it's wild but the reality is it's not.

A raised eyebrow from Tony, as it ends, tells us all we need to know about what he thought of it.

Hot Chocolate are back with that song no one remembers and has a title that makes no sense.

I don't care what anyone says, I still like it.

It's mean, moody and magnificent.

According to Tony, the next track's by Chick, though, to my ears, they sound remarkably like Chic.

They're being danced to by Legs and Co who're wearing as little as they can get away with.

They're followed by Manfred Mann's Earth Band, with a song I've never heard before.

It's not hard to see why, as it's not exactly what you could call electrifying.

It'd be easy to say it's why Punk had to happen but, to be honest, it's more like why Bucks Fizz had to happen.

Bonnie Tyler's back with her Hard Egg.

"Love him till your arms break," croaks Bonnie, suggesting she struggles to tell the difference between love and self-destructive lunacy.

The Bee Gees are back for what seems like the millionth time, with How Deep Is Your Love?

And Graham Parker's back with the New York Shuffle. It's amazing how many times he got on the show despite never having had any actual hits.

Although I was a fan of Graham at that time, this song doesn't do anything for me. I do prefer it when he's being contemptuous about things.

Next it's The Banned who fail at the first hurdle by not actually being banned. It would appear the song's called Little Girl, which, with all that's being going on lately, means it's a miracle they've made the final cut.

Are these one of those groups who were famous under another guise - like Yellow Dog were really Fox without Noosha? They have that sort of air about them.

Whoever they are, they're truly dreadful.

But, Hooray! At last Macca's with us, and Mull of Kintyre has claimed its rightful spot as the UK's Number 1.

Paul's still on the fence.

He still scarpers the moment Linda shows up.

The pipers are still on that beach.

And then, with no warning whatsoever, it's all gone Wicker Man on us as everyone in the village gathers for the bonfire.

That's the magic of Macca for you. Just as you think he's being banal, he pulls the rug from under you by setting fire to Edward Woodward.

And, blimey, wouldn't you know it, Boney M are on again with Belfast, on the play-out. Someone at Top of the Pops clearly liked it.

It has to be said, it wasn't a vintage week. In fact, it was rubbish and, if not for Wings and Hot Chocolate, I'd say it had virtually nothing to distinguish it.

And, maybe I wasn't paying enough attention but where exactly was Bing Crosby, as promised in the listings? Did they really cut him out to make way for The Banned?

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: 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 July, 1977.

Rita Coolidge, 2002
By Seattle Municipal Archives from Seattle,
WA; crop by Jmabel
(Rita Coolidge, 2002Uploaded by Jmabel)
[CC-BY-2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

It's that magical time of week again. And we leap straight into it with Noel Edmonds giving us the incredible Steve Gibbons Band.

No. I don't know who the incredible Steve Gibbons Band are either.

I do though recognise this song, even if it's one I don't know the title of.

Is the singer the eponymous Steve Gibbons? If so, Steve's wearing leather trousers. It takes a certain kind of man to get away with leather trousers. And, fair play to him, I think he might just be managing it.

The guitarist has leather trousers too. How many cows had to die to make this performance possible?

It quickly becomes clear that Steve - if Steve he is - is like a version of Shakin' Stevens from that Star Trek universe where everyone's the opposite of how they are in our universe. This means he's from a universe where Shakin' Stevens is cool.

Noel's back and it turns out the song was either called Too Late or Too Lame. I suspect it was the former.

Now we get the countdown accompanied by Feel the Need in Me.

Somehow, without Whole Lotta Love, the countdown's totally robbed of its power to excite.

Someone who'll never fail to excite are Boney M and, at last, after endless appearances on the play-out, they're finally allowed on the show itself.

My finely-honed senses tell me they're not actually in the Top of the Pops studio but are instead on one of those weird European shows you see clips of on Youtube, ones that usually feature David Bowie or Toyah performing to a totally baffled looking bunch of Bavarians.

This time, the audience don't look baffled but do look anomalously mature beyond their years and have their backs to the act. What kind of director thought having the audience facing away from the entertainment would be a good idea?

But no one with any sense cares about that. All that matters to the connoisseur is Bobby.

And, needless to say, Bobby's getting well and truly stuck into it. You can stuff your ABBA. This was the greatest band of the 1970s.

Not far behind them are Showaddywaddy, the next act on, with You Got What it Takes.

You have to say it, the forces of punk are being well and truly repulsed tonight.

Romeo seems to be nowhere in sight. Have they sacked him?

Oh. No. There he is, off to one side, hiding behind that blue drum kit.

Legs and Co are on next, dancing to Jonathan Richman and Roadrunner.

I'm not sure quite what kind of car that's supposed to be but I'm not sure the wheels are in the right place.

I used to really like this song.

Listening to it now, I'm not sure why.

Neither am I sure that what Legs are doing really constitutes dancing so much as randomly moving around. Was there actually any rehearsal involved in this "routine"?

Bob Marley's back with what feels like his millionth performance of Exxidass.

And a wooden stake is well and truly plunged into the heart of punk with the return of Dana

This is all very pleasant. I always thought she only had one hit. What a fool I was.

But who'd have thought that, within three years of this, Sheena Easton would have so totally doppelganged Dana as to have completely taken her place in our national consciousness?

Emerson Lake and Palmer are back with probably the worst Olympic opening ceremony ever.

And now Rita Coolidge returns, surviving possibly the worst joke even Noel Edmonds has ever cracked.

After all these decades, it's just dawned on me that I actually don't have a clue what this song's about.

I do at least know what Thin Lizzy are on about as they give us Dancing in the Moonlight. This is much better than the song they were doing on their last appearance - the one Noel Edmonds cheerfully admits he thought would reach Number 1.

There's half-hearted dancing going on on the stage - and for once it's not being done by Legs and Co.

For the second week running, I've lost reception during a vital part of the show.

I get it back in time to see a photo of Donna Summer on a giant screen as the Top of the Pops audience dance along to I Feel Love.

Legs and Co are still in their Jonathan Richman car and still looking totally unrehearsed. Despite the track and all the dancing that's going on, it's not exactly wild.

So, there we have it, the week when Boney M finally got the chance to prove themselves supreme, and Legs and Co got to prove themselves not supreme. It wasn't a vintage week but I enjoyed all the acts you're not supposed to and I discovered I didn't like one act you are supposed to. I suppose this counts as surprise - and surprise is a good thing. Therefore, despite its general lack of excitement, I give this week's edition a cautious thumbs up.

I do pray, though, for the return of CCS. It's simply not Top of the Pops without them.

Top of the Pops: 21st July, 1977.

In the absence of any decent Free-Use images of any of tonight's acts, here's
a lovely picture of Stonehenge, which has no doubt been the venue for
much rock music over the years.
By Guenter Wieschendahl  (own work--eigene Aufnahme)
[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It's raining so hard outside I can barely hear my television.

Will this reduce my enjoyment of tonight's show?

Like heck it will. I like to think that even total deafness couldn't put a dent in my appreciation of what's about to transpire.

And I like to think that, were he here, Dave Lee Travis would agree with me too.

But he's not here.

He's too busy guiding us through the puddles of history.

Those puddles produce their first splash with John Miles bringing his tubetastic brand of groovetasm into our living rooms, for one more spin.

By the looks of him, he's still celebrating the release of Keith Lemon's new movie but I don't care about no dirty stinking movies. I don't need to, not when I have John Miles.

Now John's finished and, in a shock development, Dave tells us the chart rundown's been delayed.

It's just been delayed even more because, in an even shocker development, I've lost my signal.

Can our hero get it back before he misses the entire show?

Too right he can because it's back already.

But I've missed the entire rundown and am confronted by the Brotherhood of Man doing Angelo for what feels like the sixteenth week running.

Suddenly the Man are gone and the Jam are back and as angry as ever.

I don't think I've ever heard this song before but it seems, from what they're singing, that it might be called All Round The World.

Paul and Bruce are trading vocals. It's easy to forget how much more prominent Bruce was in the group's early days than he became later.

It might not have been one of the Jam's more played hits but it certainly livened things up a bit.

Alessi are back.

Seeing them follow the Jam is like watching one of those old public information films where they used to put out a chip pan fire by throwing a damp dishcloth over it.

It suddenly strikes me that they bear an unlikely resemblance to Henry Winkler.

The trouble is, with their tendency to keep glancing across at each other as they sing, it does give the impression they're singing a love song to each other, which is a very strange effect, especially when the main Alessi starts going on about making love together.

A group who never needed a second invitation to make love to each other are Fleetwood Mac who appear as if from nowhere with a song whose title I can't remember.

It's all very pleasant, and undoubtedly quality music, but I could never really get into Fleetwood Mac. I just always wanted them to shout a bit or smash their instruments or just do anything that'd suggest they were fully conscious while playing.

The Rah Band are back.

It's hard to believe that look never caught on.

But now it's Danny Williams with another look I won't be copying down the disco on Friday night.

His name seems to be a composite of ex-Barnsley Football Club manager Danny Wilson and ex-Barnsley comedian Charlie Williams. Clearly the force of Barnsley is strong in this one.

Not that you'd know it, as he seems to have acquired his outfit by mugging Huggy Bear and stealing his clothes.

My razor-sharp senses detect that this is the old Martini advert music.

Queen are back with Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy.

Much more excitingly than that, Donna Summer's powered her way to Number 1.

But she's not in the studio. Instead we get Legs and Co doing their best to capture the untrammelled eroticism that got I Feel Love banned from many a radio station.

To be honest, I'm not sure they're succeeding. There's a limit to how erotic you can seem by flapping a bit of your skirt around in a state of staccato chasteness.

Argh! No! It's tear-your-hair-out-time again, as for the zillionth occasion, Boney M are relegated to the play-out slot.

What was it with the producer never letting the M onto the show? Had Bobby run over his cat or something?

The BBC of 1977 have been warned, if the M aren't allowed on next week's show, quite frankly, I'm not sure I can be held accountable for my actions.

Top of the Pops: 7th July, 1977.

Boney M by TROS
(Beeld en Geluidwiki - Gallery: Showbizzquiz)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0-nl
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses
/by-sa/3.0/nl/deed.en)],
via Wikimedia Commons

Last Friday night's Olympic opening ceremony magnificently proved to me the UK has a musical heritage to be proud of.

I have faith that this week's Top of the Pops 1977 will do its level best to prove we don't.

Not that Tony Blackburn cares about that. He's too busy introducing us to this week's chart.

What he doesn't introduce us to is the opening act.

Fortunately I don't need him to. With my vast knowledge of popular music, I know the act to be someone with a keyboard.

When the director shows us who's actually playing that keyboard, that's when I'm in trouble because, as always with the first act of each edition, I don't have a clue who it is.

It's all a bit glam rock.

It's all a bit Goldfrapp.

Whoever it is, they look like the world's worst-dressed terrorist organisation.

I take it the keyboard player's a producer pretending to be a group. And I'm not at all convinced that any of the others are really playing those instruments.

Tony finally comes to my rescue and tells me it's the Rah Band. Were they the people who did Clouds Across the Moon?

Olivia Newton-John's back.

Sadly for her, Sam's not. She's still sat there pining for him. “Sam, Sam, you know where I am,” she bemoans.

Of course he does, woman. You never move. You've been sat there for weeks. That's probably why he left you.

Smokie are on next with It's Your Life. I don't think I recognise this.

They've gone a bit reggae - in the Paul Nicholas sense of the word.

It might be reggae but it's the same song they always have hits with.

This is strange. For no noticeable reason, it's suddenly changed tempo and turned into Baby You're a Rich Man.

And suddenly it's turning back into reggae again. Frankly I don't have a clue what's going on. It's all a bit daring and experimental by Smokie standards.

All it needs is for Suzi Quatro to appear and it's had everything.

Sadly Suzi doesn't put in an appearance.

Happily, The Brotherhood of Man do.

Seeing the looks on their faces as they sing of suicide does remind me of when Westlife appeared on Top of the Pops and grinned their way through every moment of their cover of Seasons in the Sun.

But I like to think this is where Steve Nieve stole the piano sound for Oliver's Army from.

Bob Marley's back with Ecksidass. You really do think someone should've told him he was saying it wrong.

It doesn't matter how hard he tries, he'll never be able to do reggae like Smokie can.

It's the Alessi Brothers with Oh Lori. I assume they're no relation to the Alessi Sisters from Neighbours, even though they too were twins.

To be honest, it's not one of my favourite songs, being the musical equivalent of candy floss. And, for some reason it's giving me the urge to stand in a lift.

But forget the Alessi Brothers! We don't need them any more.

Why?

Because we've got the return of Barry Biggs!

God alone knows what he's dressed as. He seems to be auditioning for the part of Harry Secombe's stand-in in the worst-ever version of Oliver.

Showing the level of daring that even Smokie could only dream of, he's singing Life is a Three-Ringed Circus, clearly not at all sticking to the format that gave us Sideshow. Personally I've always found life to be a three-ringed lemur.

Does it say bad things about me that I'm quite enjoying this?

I think I'll be singing this in bed tonight.

And now Legs and Co are dancing to Boney M and Ma Baker.

This is driving me up the wall. When are we actually going to be allowed to see the band the world knows as The M? I want to see Bobby dance, not these bums.

I really don't understand what's going on. There's a granny dancing on the screen while the rest of them're sat rogering chairs. What does any of this have to do with a female Chicago gangster?

It's Andy Gibb.

This is very Bee Gees. Did they write it for him?

Hot Chocolate are still at Number 1 - which means they've won again.

Errol shows his class by managing to sing the last line with his mouth shut.

And we play out with Donna Summer and I Feel Love.

This pleases me because I do recall watching this play-out upon first broadcast all those years ago, making it one of the few moments since I started watching these repeats that I actually remember seeing at the time.

So, as predicted, Top of the Pops did indeed fail to play any of Britain's rich musical heritage. Instead it gave us a tale of the familiar with the odd surprise.

I'm not sure if it reflects worst on the show or on me that the act I missed most on tonight's show was Boney M and the one I enjoyed most was Barry Biggs. If only they'd let me choose the soundtrack to that opening ceremony, what a show it would've been.

Top of the Pops: 30th June, 1977.

Brian May of Queen.
By Thomas Steffan by using Olympus Camedia C700 (Own work)
[GFDL, CC-BY-SA-3.0 or CC-BY-SA-2.5], via Wikimedia Commons

Yet again the BBC fails in its attempts to confuse me with scheduling chaos. And I find myself facing Noel Edmonds; a man so resolutely un-punk, in this heyday of the genre, that it's almost a punk statement in its own right. Could it be that Noel Edmonds was, in fact, in 1977, actually the most punk individual in the whole of the British Isles?

Someone who's definitely not punk is the opening act.

Who they are, I have no idea, as the show's back to its policy of opening with a turn I've never heard of.

Whoever they are, they're in a very 1970s' looking video.

But just look at that audience go! We must be back with Soul Train! If only we'd ever see that kind of life from a Top of the Pops audience.

But wait a minute! Something's wrong here! We're not on Soul Train at all!

That's the Top of the Pops studio and, miracle of miracles, it's the Top of the Pops audience who're frugging like their lives depend on it. Have the producers, shamed by the antics of Soul Train, finally snapped and threatened to shoot them if they don't move?

Frankly, not all of them look happy to be doing so, and some look positively reluctant. I can't help but think of those chickens that're made to dance by being stood on a hot metal plate.

Personally, I don't care how it was achieved, I'm happy just to see it happen.

At its climax, Noel appears on screen but he looks like he's been superimposed on the studio in much the same way as he seemed to have been superimposed on the 1970s' music scene.

Gladys Knight's back with that video.

This really is the silliest dance I've ever seen grown men do.

Keith Lemon John Miles is back with Slow Down.

And he's gained a pair of sunglasses since his last visit.

Interesting that Peter Frampton's tube's still world famous, while John Miles's is totally forgotten.

Noel tips it to get to Number 1, which I assume means it dropped off the chart the following week never to be heard of again.

Jesse Green's with us. Has he been on before? The name rings a bell but I don't recognise the face.

Either way, he's the living embodiment of White Suit Man.

This all seems a bit Sheffield Fiesta.

Not only that but it all sounds very familiar; like they've got the chord sequence of well-known song and played it backwards to disguise where it's come from.

Queen are back with Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy and the video we saw a couple of weeks ago.

Having already given the kiss of death to John Miles, Noel returns, with his record of the week.

It's by Cliff Richard and it shows how unsinkable Cliff's career is that it even managed to survive the endorsement of Edmonds.

Although I have to say I don't know this song at all.

I'm starting to realise why. On first hearing, it sounds like a meandering mess and has, “Flop,” written all over it.

Not that you could tell that to Noel who reappears at its conclusion to rave about how wonderful it is.

“When twelve legs get together, and a few other bits,” declares Noel. That's right, it's Legs and Co and their other bits, this time dancing to Feel The Need In Me by whoever it is.

Legs have been far too sensible lately.

And they continue that trend with a dance that seems to owe nothing in its execution to the lyrical content of the song they're dancing to.

Apparently the track was by the Detroit Emeralds.

But now it's Emerson, Lake and Palmer, with Fanfare For The Common Man, though the conceit of playing it in an empty Montreal Olympic stadium can't disguise the sheer silliness of the track.

A band who were rarely silly – except when they were singing about flying saucers - have grabbed the Number 1 slot.

It's Hot Chocolate, and it's their first ever chart topper, with So You Win Again.

For such a granny pleasing band, they were remarkably miserable. This was probably all for the best, as Errol really did have a wonderfully dry, glacial and downbeat voice.

But we finish with a burst of frustration, as we play out with Boney M and Ma Baker. It's not fair - Boney M always seem to be relegated to the play-out. Will we never get to see Bobby dancing?

To be honest, I do prefer the show when there's someone truly dreadful on it. In the absence of such an act, the show can seem terribly beige. For me, the ideal Top of the Pops has a nightmarish act, a stone-cold classic, a bit of punk, an ELO video and Jimmy Savile. Tonight's edition had none of the above. And so I can't help feeling - for all its solidity and the producer's attempts to liven up the audience - that, like John Miles's tube, it shall fade from the memory almost as soon as it's departed.

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: 24th March, 1977.

Yet again I can't find a free-use image appropriate to
tonight's show. So here's a lovely picture of Dr Who
sexpot Karen Gillan signing an autograph.
Karen shares a surname with a well-known rock
vocalist and looks like Jim Kerr, thus has many valid
links with TOTP.
Photo by MangakaMaiden [CC-BY-2.0],
via Wikimedia Commons 

The past may be a different country but there's one land we need no passport to visit, one that has no visas and no secret police to fear.

It's the magical kingdom of Top of the Pops. But what tourist hotspots and ancient wonders will we encounter on our journey?

Only Dave Lee Travis can tell us, for it is he who's our guide into strange realms tonight.

And we launch straight into the mighty Brendon. I have at least learned how to spell his name in the fortnight since his previous appearance.

Not only that but his band're actually stood near him this week.

He's not exactly what you'd call a looker but he seems a lot happier to be here than he did last time out – and he's having a good old go at trying to get the audience moving.

Blow me down if he isn't succeeding - and it's not every act that can make that boast when it comes to the infamously zombie-esque TOTP audience.

One of his band seems to have stolen a hat from the Rubettes. I hope that doesn't lead to trouble.

Dave Lee Travis has a woman on his T-shirt but I can't make out who.

He's introducing us to, “A woman who's been singing for a long long time,” prompting the thought she must be getting tired by now.

But no, it's Elkie Brooks - and she's showing no signs of fatigue.

It's surely her best ever record; Pearl's A Singer. I believe Leiber and Stoller produced this.

There was clearly something in the water in 1977 because, the way they're dressed, she and her band could pass for Manhattan Transfer.

This has to have the least inspired bass line in the history of popular music but it's an appealing song, so who cares?

This song always brings to mind Roy North singing Earl's A Winger on Get It Together. This is the second week running I've mentioned Roy North on this blog. Whoever would've thought that'd happen, way back when I launched it?

Maybe I should launch a Roy North Appreciation Blog. I feel sure it'd be a smash hit and quite the internet sensation.

Actually, thinking about it, it's hard to know why this song's meant to be taken as a sad one. Pearl's life doesn't sound that bad to me.

Now it's The Brotherhood of Man with Oh Boy. They still haven't got round to ending all their song titles with the letter “O” yet, but're still fumbling instead with the concept of starting them with it.

I do wonder how the male members felt about having to sing lyrics clearly written for heterosexual women.

I am of course assuming the male singers were themselves heterosexual. A fact I have no evidence at all to support other than that they look like they want to be seen as such.

The girls're dressed like children's TV presenters. They're a bit Sarah Jane Smith, circa 1976.

In fairness, the girls have very good voices. They're no Agnetha and Anni-Frid but they're nice and clear nonetheless.

Graham Parker and the Rumour are back. He actually seems to have shrunk since last week. Are they sure he's not a native of Flores?

Now it's two people whose names I didn't catch.

I didn't catch the song's title either but there're two of them - a man and a woman - singing to each other while a strange contraption revolves bafflingly behind them.

“You don't have to be a star to be in my show,” they're singing.

But what is that thing revolving behind them? It looks like some new Dr Who monster. Why would they want a revolving Dr Who monster behind them as they sing?

Regardless of monsters, the singers seem very happy to be in each other's presence.

Suddenly we get women in Motoring Unit T-shirts.

Now we get the Dead End Kids. With a name like that, I can only conclude that, at last, punk has arrived.

Or possibly not.

Have I the Right? It's all very Bay City Rollers but that's no bad thing.

But you do wonder who decided 1977 was exactly the right time to try sounding like the Bay City Rollers.

It may be dated for those of us living at the cutting edge of 1977 but I can't deny I do have a soft spot for this kind of music.

Apathetic chime playing. That's something the Bay City Rollers never had.

Smokie. Somehow it wouldn't feel like TOTP without them. OK, all their records blur into one for me but I don't care. I will never get tired of listening to them.

Nice bass.

Now Legs and Co are dancing to Boney M's Sunny. While I wouldn't want to put Legs and Co out of work, I do feel cheated at not being able to see Bobby dancing around to it.

Good grief! It's T Rex! There's one from left field. Who expected to be seeing them on the show?

I didn't. And I'm an expert.

Mostly I'm an expert at not expecting things.

He's looking a bit Johnny Depp.

I've never heard this song before in my life but it seems quite nice.

The Captain and Tenille. I wouldn't trust him to steer a boat.

They've been together since 1971. I wonder if they're still together? I hope so. I'd like to think it's all ended more happily for them than it did for the Carpenters.

Manhattan Transfer are still at Number 1, and TOTP is still using that footage.

It takes me back to the Blitz, even though I wasn't there.

I don't care what anyone says, she's just the wrong shape to have nipples.

I have realised she's actually singing, “Chanson Da Moo.” This thought leads me nowhere.

Not for the first time, they're playing out with David Bowie and Sound and Vision.

But still no Ken Morse. How did the show survive so long without a rostrum camera?

And, for that matter, just what is a rostrum camera?

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.