Top of the Pops: 18th August, 1977.

I can't find a decent Free-Use pic of any of tonight's acts,
so here's a lovely photo of Fingal's Cave in Staffa, Scotland.
By Velela (Public Domain).

Never  one to waste time, Dave Lee Travis flings us straight into it with the chart countdown and the Stranglers doing Something Better Change.

What with Jonathan Richman last week and the Stranglers this, the BBC have clearly decided the countdown is the best place to put the "challenging" songs.

But, for the serious music lover, nothing could be more challenging than the Dooleys - and they're up next, with something or other.

I must admit my memories of the Dooleys are vague. While I have strongish recall of the music, in terms of what they looked like I think I may have spent the last thirty-odd years mixing them up with Liquid Gold.

Upon re-acquaintance with them, they're not the most glamorous outfit I've ever seen.

Nor are they wearing the most glamorous outfits I've ever seen.

But the Dooleys depart and - hooray - it's the act some of us have been waiting all year for.

It's the Floaters - and Float On.

Has there ever been a band with a more unfortunate name? Has there ever been a band whose only hit was more lampoonable?

And, for that matter, how exactly does one, "Float on?"

Charles likes a woman who's quiet.

Paul's fussy. He likes all the women of the world.

While Larry - funny how he's the one who's lingered longest in the memory - likes a woman who loves everyone and everybody.

What a desperate bunch of men they turned out to be.

I wonder if Elkie Brooks would've been impressed by Larry? She's on now, doing Since You Went Away.

All respect to Elkie, who we established several months ago is a seething volcano of female sexuality but I'm already starting to get bored with her.

Now it's Mink DeVille. For some reason I always get them mixed up with the aforementioned Jonathan Richman.

I've never seen them before and they don't look like I expected. I always thought they'd look like the Cars.

Actually, this does sound more like My Best Friend's Girl than I ever noticed before. In fact, I think you can sing My Best Friend's Girl right over the top of it.

Meanwhile, the singer seems to be in a different group from the rest of the band.

Despite all their best efforts, I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion this is rubbish.

What's on next certainly isn't.

Why?

Because it's Carly Simon and my favouritest ever James Bond theme. Who can listen to this song without at once being transported back to a magical time of cars that turn into submarines, and giants with metal teeth? And how many songs can you say that about?

Not so hooray! Carly's being danced to by Legs and Co.

Those are interesting outfits they're wearing. They look like Dale Arden in full-on Mongo gear.

In fact, if Hela - the goddess of death from Thor - joined Legs and Co, that's exactly the look she'd go for.

As Hela's a bit of a role model of mine, that realisation quickly convinces me this is a good look.

I would say I really don't have a clue what the dance has to do with the song but I say that every week, so I won't. But I can say their aimless physical meanderings have managed the seemingly impossible and drained away all my enthusiasm for the song.

We're back to Dave Lee Travis and he's with a woman whose top proclaims the word, "Midge." Is she an Ultravox fan who's got to the studio too early or a Slik fan who's got there too late?

Danny Williams is back, with the Martini music.

He still looks like someone who'd sell you something dodgy on a street corner - although I'm sure he's not really.

The Rah Band are back for what seems like the millionth time, and still failing to convince me that balaclavas are a good look for a pop star.

I've lost reception again. Why does this happen every week at this time? It's like someone's trying to jam my signal in an effort to ruin my enjoyment.

I'm back in time for a woman singing the Bee Gees' Nights on Broadway. My finely tuned knowledge of popular music tells me she might be Candi Staton.

But I've lost my reception again...

...and suddenly I'm confronted by the Jam and All Around the World, leading me to conclude that Candi can't have been on for long.

I've come to the decision that this isn't one of the Jam's best, but they are at least doing their best to liven up what's been a somewhat moribund edition.

Someone you could never call moribund are the Brotherhood of Man. They even manage to make Mexican suicides sound like fun. Not only that but they're suddenly at Number 1, with Angelo.

But, hold on a moment. Hasn't this been out for months and months and months? They must've been on Top of the Pops at least a million times doing it already. Just how long did it take to reach the top spot?

No doubt lacking all interest in such conundra, Space play us out with Magic Fly. Or is it Magic Fly playing us out with Space? I was never sure which it was but, whatever it's called and whoever it's by, like Nobody Does it Better, this is one of the tracks I most strongly associate with 1977.

It was an oddly disjointed show, veering awkwardly between the likes of the Jam and the Stranglers and the likes of the Floaters and the Dooleys. If any show demonstrates that 1977 saw a nation musically divided then it has to have been this one.

It'd be nice to say the contrast was invigorating but it proved to be more frustrating, as the serious groups drained all fun from proceedings, as the sillier groups drained all gravitas from them. Could this be the fate of British music from now on? To be hopelessly fractured beyond consolidation?

Only time - and possibly 1978 - will be able to tell us.

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: 23rd June, 1977.

The Brotherhood of Man - Nationaal Archief, Den Haag, Rijksfotoarchief:
Fotocollectie Algemeen Nederlands Fotopersbureau (ANEFO),
1945-1989 - negatiefstroken zwart/wit, nummer toegang 2.24.01.05,
bestanddeelnummer 928-4930 (Nationaal Archief)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons

Despite its best efforts to do so, BBC 4 has pitifully failed to catch me out, and this Wednesday evening finds me all rared up and ready to go.

I'm not the only one - because Jimmy Savile too has failed to be caught out and, by the sounds of him, is as full of vim and vigour as ever.

But first we kick off with a miracle, as, for possibly the first time ever, I recognise both the opening act and their song.

It's Dave Edmunds and his Rockpile, with I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock and Roll.

In retrospect, what an odd outfit Dave Edmunds' Rockpile were, somehow managing to feel like they were riding on a New Wave bandwagon despite being as much a 1950s throwback as Shakin' Stevens ever was.

Nick Lowe still looks like he should've been the fifth Beatle though.

Jimmy Savile's back and as well dressed as ever, in a tracksuit covered in crudely sewn-on flags of the British Isles.

Now it's Tony Etoria.

They've saved the act I've never heard of for second on the bill! Can the show survive such a drastic format change?

This seems to be cheerful tune sung from the perspective of a mad stalker.

Sadly for Tony and his oddly creepy song, the audience're clearly more interested in watching the cameramen than in watching him.

Speaking of creepy, Gary Glitter's back.

And it's a lot livelier than his last appearance, which was just plain disturbing.

This is more like the Gary we were familiar with - although you can't help feeling it's a song calling out for a bigger production.

My razor-sharp Steve Senses tell me he might be miming.

Overall you have to say it's one of music's great tragedies that a man who, like Jimmy Savile, could make you smile just upon the mention of his name, had to end up enmeshed in such scandal,  robbing us forever of a small piece of innocent fun in our lives.

Next up, it's Carole Bayer Sager. He still hasn't moved out and she still hasn't got her hands out of her pockets.

Carole's gone and Jimmy's returned. He's back to his old trick of introducing us to strange acquaintances of his. God only knows where he finds his endless supply of discomfiting people.

It's ABBA the Brotherhood Of Man, with Angelo. This is more like it. How could anyone not like the Brotherhood Of Man?

Angelo's resemblance to Fernando is obvious but I'd never noticed before that they've also stolen the piano from Dancing Queen.

There's no two ways about it, this has to be the cheeriest song about suicide ever written.

Now we're back with another of Jimmy's friends who all look weirdly familiar, like they should be someone famous. This time it's a man called Dennis, and the famous person he should be is Mick Fleetwood.

The famous people the Stranglers should have been are the Stranglers and that's the cue for them to give us another airing of Go Buddy Go.

You have to give Top Of The Pops credit. How many other music shows could have gone seamlessly from the Brotherhood Of Man to the Stranglers with nothing to separate them but Jimmy Savile?

Now it's Johnny Nash. I don't know the song but, whatever it is, it's taking its time getting going.

I must admit I know very little of the oeuvre of Johnny Nash but this seems quite nice, with a hint of Otis Redding's Try A Little Tenderness.

Legs and Co are back, dressed as Little Bo Peep and dancing to Oh Lori.

I do feel they should have dancers on Jools Holland's Later to fill in for any acts who can't be bothered to turn up.

I bet Paul Nicholas would never be not bothered to turn up for a TV show. I bet Paul Nicholas would never be not bothered to turn up for for the opening of an envelope. Never have I seen a man of Paul Nicholas's enthusiasm. And we get a chance to experience it all over again as the man who gave us seminal rock classic Grandma's Party is back, doing Heaven on the 7th Floor.

There's a harmonica. For a moment I'm hoping it turns out to be being played by Stevie Wonder.

Sadly it doesn't. But what meeting of the talents that would've been.

I do feel Paul Nicolas was what Brendon could've been if he'd played his cards right.

Jimmy has another friend with him. This time the famous person he should be is Peter Frampton because it is Peter Frampton, popping in to show off his bare chest and say nothing much in particular. Sadly, his tube is notable by its absence. It would've been a wonderful moment in pop history if, in the time since his previous appearance on the show, Peter Frampton had gone so mad he'd taken to talking through his tube as well.

At Number 1, it's the Jacksons with Show You The Way To Go.

I must confess it's not one of my favourite Jacksons tracks.

To be honest not many Jacksons tracks are.

Despite me being a renowned king of Disco, I only ever liked Blame It On The Boogie and Can You Feel It?

What's this show they're on? I don't think it's Soul Train, the studio and stage layout don't look right. Nor do the audience, who seem more of a mixed racial bag than Soul Train's audience ever were.

Whatever show it is, the canned audience seem to be getting well into it.

Sadly, for me, it seems to be dragging on forever.

Jimmy's strangling a woman as we go into a track I don't recognise that's acting as the show's play-out. For a moment it sounds like Cliff Richard then suddenly sounds like Jamiroquai. I brilliantly conclude it's neither of them but don't conclude who it actually is and can therefore only watch in cluelessness as the show fades out.

Well that all flew by. All in all, I think that was one of my favourite editions of the show so far. I don't think I disliked anything aside from from the Jacksons and, apart from it dragging on too long, I don't actively mind that one either. Some people might say I should have disliked the Botherhood of Man and Paul Nicholas but they're always so smiley and glad to be there, how could I ever hope to take against them?

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: 10th March, 1977.

I couldn't find a free-to-use image of any of tonight's
acts, so here's a photo of Scarlett Johansson instead
By Tony Shek (Scarlett Johansson_004)
[CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)]
via Wikimedia Commons

Once more must I plummet through time, into a world so very like my own and yet so very unlike my own. What all-time classics will BBC4 have cut out of this week's show to make room for the likes of Mary MacGregor?

If anyone can tell us, David “Kid” Jensen can, for it is he who's presenting.

I'm still refusing to watch the chart countdown at the beginning, in case it ruins all the surprises for me.

And this is a surprise. They've started with Graham Parker. Graham was one of my favourite artists of the late 1970s. How could you not love a man who gave us lines like, “I've got mercury poisoning. It's fatal and it don't get better”?

Having said that, such an angry man seems not totally suited to a song like Hold Back the Night.

I never realised he was so short.

Or is everyone else in his band unbelievably tall? It's like he's being filmed in forced perspective like they were in Land of the Giants. Any second now I expect a giant domestic cat to get on stage and try to swat him with its paw, forcing him to take refuge in a hole in the skirting board.

To be honest he's acting like a bit of a pranny.

“What a good week it's been for Liverpool,” says Kid. Argh! No! Please don't let this mean it's going to be Liverpool Express again!

It's not. It's the Real Thing.

I suppose it's better than Liverpool Express but it's still not the most thrilling of songs. For some reason, one of them's got his arm in his dungarees, like Napoleon on Dress-Down Thursday.

The Brotherhood of Man are on, doing Oh Boy. They haven't quite gone into full-on ABBA mode at this stage of their career but they're heading that way.

It's not what you could call a rivetingly choreographed routine.

Now Kid meets some Norwegians.

And we meet Smokie.

I do have a strange fondness for Smokie. They were hardly cutting-edge, but listening to a Smokie song is like sinking into a comfy sofa; which is appropriate as the bassist's hair looks like an exploding settee.

Speaking of looking like an exploding settee, Barbara Dickson's back. It's Kid Jensen's favourite song from Evita and I agree with him even though I've only ever heard three songs from Evita and two of them have the same tune as each other.

Oh my god, it's that terrible Rubettes record again. Has there been some decree that it has to be on every single week? How can Kid possibly think it's going to be a Number 1?

Big hats totally jettisoned now. The fools! Don't they know that ditching extravagant head-wear's the sure-fire route to obscurity? I take the view that the only reason I never made it onto TOTP was my insane decision to not wear a neon bucket on my head at all opportunities. With such a policy, how could I ever have hoped to stalk the stage Nik Kershaw once made his own?

Like a pitiful dog with no will left to go on, the Rubettes are put out of their misery and cut short to make way for ELO and Rockaria. I'm starting to feel like I'm watching a repeat of last week's show.

Still, I don't care. ELO'll put me in better spirits.

Supposedly the woman warbling on this is the same one who sang, “This is the age of the train,” in those Jimmy Savile adverts. Everything on TOTP always comes back to Jimmy in the end.

Dangerous jumping around from the cellist. Just remember that thing's got a big spike on the end of it, mate.

Legs and Co dancing to Mary MacGregor. Another atypically non-literal interpretation. That's a shame. I'd have loved to see Flick Colby trying to literally interpret the phrase, “Torn between two lovers.” Poor Cherry'd never walk right again.

Now it's someone called Brendan. I've never heard of either this person or this song before in my life. And there was me thinking I had an encyclopaedic knowledge of all things late-1970s' pop.

Brendan's a major sex god.

At least he seems to think so.

I'm not sure his band do. They appear to be trying to keep as much of the stage between themselves and him as possible.

He seems quite annoying.

And seems to have a high opinion of his own buttocks, judging by his determination to make sure everyone gets a good view of them.

Leo Sayer's not Number 1 any more. It's Manhattan Transfer; rat a tat a tat.

Nipples!

I don't expect a woman in Manhattan Transfer to have nipples. It'd be like finding out Penelope Keith has them. Nipples are reserved for Felicity Kendal, not the likes of Mrs Manhattan.

I wonder if there're still groups like Manhattan Transfer out there these days. I like to think there are. I mean, I wouldn't want to actually hear them, but it'd be reassuring to know there are. And also that there're acts like Hinge and Bracket still out there.

It's all over and they're playing-out with Elton John and Crazy Water. Was this a single? Was it a hit? It's not one of his best known songs. In fact I don't know it at all.

So, I learned a lot from this week's episode of Top of the Pops. I learned there was a man called Brendan who I'd never heard of before and that Elton John had a single out in 1977 that I'd never heard of before.

Still no sign of Ken Morse. With the most iconic figure in TOTP's history still not having put in an appearance, I'm starting to feel like it's a conspiracy.