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: 14th July, 1977.

Dave Edmunds by Canada Jack aka Jeremy Gilbert
(Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)
or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)],
via Wikimedia Commons

Like Usain Bolt on speed, the nation's favourite music show flings itself into action and we launch straight into it with Kid Jensen giving us an intro I didn't understand, before we get the first act of the evening.

Is it the Real Thing?

It doesn't seem to be.

There seems to be one too few of them.

No.

Hold on.

I think it is the Real Thing. I 'd recognise that nipple-bearing dress-sense anywhere.

Although now convinced it is indeed the Real Thing, I sadly don't recognise the song. My guess, from what they keep singing, is it's called Love's Such A Wonderful Thing.

Someone who'd no doubt concur is Rita Coolidge and what Kid tells us is the Boz Scaggs song We're All Alone.

It's weird that, up until now, I never even knew what this track was called but it's one of a handful of songs I automatically associate with 1977, along with Magic Fly and Nobody Does It Better.

Now it's the Saints, from Australia, and This Perfect Day. It's punk but from the wrong side of the world.

How weird that the first genuinely punky sounding thing to ever appear on Top of the Pops is by an unknown Australian band who don't even look like punks.

As if to celebrate this conceptual breakthrough, there's someone in the audience sort of pogoing.

Now it's Legs and Co dancing to Easy Like Sunday Morning by the Commodores. I always thought this came out a couple of years later.

Dave Edmunds is back with I Knew The Bride When She used To Rock And Roll. Nick Lowe looking vaguely like a Ramone.

“If you were wondering what happened to Jigsaw,” says Kid. I know I was. I've not been able to sleep at night for worrying about it.

In fact I wasn't. I've never heard of them but, whoever they are, they're back again.

It quickly becomes clear just what happened to them. They were busy visiting their singer in hospital after he got his nadgers destroyed by an industrial-strength vice. It's the only possible explanation for that singing voice. He manages to make the Bee Gees sound like Barry White.

On reflection, did Jigsaw do that song that goes, "You've blown it all sky high," or was that someone else?

Whatever the case, with their New Faces manner, they do seem strangely like a band out of time.

Then again, so did Supertramp and that didn't stop them having their greatest commercial successes at a time when they should have been at their least fashionable. This time they're on with Give A Little Bit which is one of my Supertramp favourites.

Roger Hodgson still looks like Jesus and still sounds like Roddy McDowall.

Argh! They didn't play the ending. I love the ending.

But now the unexpected's hit me between the eyes because it's Cilla Black.

Without having yet heard it I suspect that, like the Supertramp song, my favourite bit of this is going to be the end – though not necessarily for the same reasons.

But it is bizarre to see Cilla Black on Top of the Pops in the late 1970s, especially as the song sounds like it was recorded in the 1960s.

A band who could only have been from the 1970s are the Sex Pistols, making their debut with Pretty Vacant, the song they wrote for the Olympic opening ceremony. How angry will they be when they realise they were beaten onto Top of the Pops by the Saints? I bet John Lydon's still bitter to this very day.

It's weird that, after all this time, they seem strangely like a boy band.

So now Top of the Pops does the obvious segue from the Sex Pistols to Kenny Rogers, giving us one of the show's legendary blink-and-you'll-miss-it interviews. It's a noticeably longer interview than we're used to and tells us more about our hero than usual but not anything that's likely to change our lives.

Seemingly not having had their lives changed at all since last week, Hot Chocolate are still Number 1 with So You Win Again, and Errol's still wearing his amulet of power.

Kid gives us his, “Good Love,” sign-off and we play out with Emerson Lake and Palmer.

So, I think we learned two valuable lessons from tonight's show. 1, that Australia was the true heartland of punk and, 2, that Kid Jensen won't give up on it until the entire nation's saying, "Good Love," to each other.

Somehow I suspect he's going to have a very long wait.

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: 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: 16th June, 1977.

Olivia Newton-John by Larry D. Moore
(Nv8200p on en.wikipedia) using a Minolta SRT-101
camera.
(© 1988 Larry D. Moore)
[GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

This week there's been much talk of Olympic lanes on the roads of London, wherein the VIPs of that event can drive around the streets of our capital, unhindered by the masses who actually pay for it all. But who'll be speeding along tonight's highway to glory? And who'll be driving straight up pop's cul-de-sac before hitting the bollards of obscurity?

Only David "Kid" Jensen can tell us. For it is he who is to be our guide around the spiritual spaghetti junction that is the music scene of 1977.

And of course, we kick off with the obligatory act I don't recognise.

I do vaguely know the tune though, even if I don't have a clue what it's called.

If it wasn't 35 years old, I could think it's being sung by Keith Lemon.

It sounds a bit like Disco Duck but my finely-honed Steve-Senses tell me it's probably not Rick Dees and his Cast of Idiots.

Whoever he is, he's stolen Peter Frampton's tube and is clearly determined to use it. It's all very funky but, to my untutored ears, he lacks the style of the man they don't know as Frampto.

Now it's all over, Kid tells us it was John Miles with Slow Down.

This is a total shock to me, as I never knew John Miles looked like that. For some reason, I always thought he was bald but I might be mixing him up with the then-popular snooker player Graham Miles.

Now it's someone I could never mix up with a snooker player.

It's Olivia Newton-John, with Sam.

It does strike me that she has a much stronger and more passionate voice than she's sometimes given credit for but, right now, I'm more concerned with what I'm seeing rather than hearing because, for some reason, the picture's square instead of rectangular. Is this how it was transmitted at the time? If so it's a strange artistic choice. It creates the impression we're seeing every act through a hole cut in a sheet of black cardboard. Either that or it's like I've just cut a hole in Olivia Newton-John's living room wall and am now perving at her.

And now I'm perving at Hot Chocolate with So You Win Again.

I do believe it's physically impossible to dislike Hot Chocolate.

If only I could say the same for Queen who're on next with Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy.

When I was a youth, a strange thing happened. After Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen completely disappeared off my radar until they released We Are The Champions - and, listening to this, I can see why. It's all very clever but, like 10cc at their worst, seems to be an adventure in futile and gratuitous creativity.

Now it's somebody whose name I didn't catch and a song that seems to be called Everybody Have a Good Time.

They seem to be OK but the truth is there's an act like this on every week and, after a few months, they all sort of blur into one.

Their dance moves are somewhat limited.

In fact they only seem to have one, which involves groinal thrusting. They somehow manage to make groinal thrusting seem less sexual than it should be. Not like that bloke from Honky who managed to make it far too sexual for comfort.

Towards the end, the singer mentions that they're on Soul Train, which seems rather undiplomatic of him.

Now Legs and Co are dancing to You're Gonna Get Next To Me by yet another act whose name I've missed.

Men seem to have appeared from nowhere to dance with Legs and Co but most of them don't seem to want to dance with Legs and Co, which is rather odd, as they look rather attractive this week.

That over and done with, it's the Foster Brothers.

Kid tells us we'll be hearing a lot more of them in the future. Maybe I've not been paying enough attention but I don't recall ever hearing anything of them ever.

If you've ever wondered what Kirsten Dunst would look like with a moustache, here's your chance to find out because the singer's resemblance to her really is quite striking – and distracting.

Then again it's not as distracting as his constant energetic bobbing around which has rapidly become annoying.

The song itself seems OK but not remarkable.

I still can't get over how much he looks like Kirsten Dunst. I genuinely think it'll haunt me for years.

Argh! It's Kermit's nephew!

In Germany, they have a well-publicised problem with exploding frogs. I wish Top of the Pops did.

Fair play to it, after 35 years it can still make me feel as nauseous as ever.

And I still don't think it's fair that that frog has nicer banisters than I do. I'm genuinely tempted to go out right now and start carving them into the same shape. Only technical incompetence and a fear that my banisters aren't made from real wood, stands between me and my ambition.

From out of the blue (as far as I'm concerned), it's Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I'd always assumed they were one of those acts who'd never been on Top of the Pops.

So far it's sounding like Status Quo on sleeping pills.

It's not great.

In fact, some might say it's terrible.

Then again, maybe it's good. I'm having trouble making my mind up.

Kenny Rogers is Number 1 with Lucille. How could anyone not warm to Kenny Rogers?

That's not to say the song's succeeding in holding my attention in any way shape or form but there's something about Kenny Rogers I can't help but approve of, no matter how boring the song.

My expert knowledge of counting to three tells me it's a waltz. I wonder how many waltzes have made Number 1 on the UK charts?

If this was a proper website, I'd probably be able to tell you but that sort of competence, insight and expertise'd go against the spirit of the enterprise, so I'll just sit here adrift on a sea of ignorance and tell you that we play out with the Jacksons doing Show You The Way To Go.