Saint Etienne: "Who Do You Think You Are" / "Hobart Paving"

12 May 1993 (with more Britpop bitchiness here)

"I think they have real trouble having those sorts of faces and sounding like they do."

— Alex James

"It's wonderful shopping mall music. It's shopping mall music with attitude. That's what it is."

— Damon Albarn

First off, let's take that great, charming prat Alex James to task for the above quote. I know we can't all look like Dave Rowntree but is there something objectionable about the way Saint Etienne members Bob Stanley, Pete Wiggs and Sarah Cracknell look? Surely the Blur bassist and future Tory-supporting buffoon has seen Bobby Gillespie at some point, if not in the flesh then certainly on screen and/or in print at some point. While it may be that Stanley and Wiggs aren't over-blessed in terms of looks (though they're hardly ugly or anything), what of Cracknell who was an absolute knock out and probably still is.

To be fair to James, it's possible he's clumsily making the point that the combination of their pop sound with their supposedly rough appearances are too much of a contrast for pop stardom. It's possible but is it especially relevant? Given that Blur themselves had both James and singer Damon Albarn as pinups along with the geeky chic appeal of guitarist Graham Coxon (and, lest we forget, Rowntree, who was obviously trying to cover up his good looks by trying to appear like he worked in high street betting shop) and were also struggling with this whole pop game, it probably didn't matter either way.

It's hard to imagine Blur existing prior to the nineties. Yes, there had always been a place for The Kinks and XTC to serve up similarly in-your-face Britishness but they weren't composed of members that girls fancied and that other fellows longed to emulate. (That said, I could be wrong when it comes to The Kinks but I can't get past Ray Davies' slappable face) For their part, it's equally difficult to picture Saint Etienne being around earlier either. Though irony and knowing winks had been long-established pop music traditions, the genius of Stanley, Wiggs and Cracknell was that they were able to marry them to a surprisingly earnest retro chic that was only able to thrive once the fairlight polish had worn off from the eighties.

It's actually kind of a pity that Stanley or Wiggs never tried to pull an Ian McCulloch by claiming that Saint Etienne could easily have been Blur. Not, mind you, because there's any accuracy to such a statement — because clearly there isn't — but because it would have given them more of that pop star clout that the Essex Britpoppers chased and then rejected. For people so in love with all things pop, the 'Tienne never seemed keen enough to rush towards it. And that, Mr Cheesemaker and member of the ultra-douchebag Chipping Norton set (you've seriously lost touch with reality if you happen to be part of a "set"), held this pop trio back far more than their looks.

Not to get too much like the leader of Echo & The Bunnymen myself but in some ways Saint Etienne were far ahead of Blur in 1993. While a Top 10 hit eluded them (and still has), their run of 45's over the previous couple of years had been first rate and of a much more consistent quality than the supposedly great singles band who had the spirited baggy anthem "There's No Other Way" and not a whole lot else. Second album Modern Life Is Rubbish is now highly regarded by many but I consider it to be high on ideas while low on results. Character sketch numbers like "Colin Zeal" and "Pressure on Julian" fail to hold up the way the likes of "Tracy Jacks", "Magic America" and, yes, "Charmless Man" do. Hey, they got better and all the credit to them for doing so but they weren't quite ready for the top in '93 and it shows.

This isn't to say that Saint Etienne were perfect. Their pursuit of what Hits editor Mark Frith called their "perfect pop moment" could be grating at times. There was something far too deliberate about every step they'd take as well. And they seemed to have this desire to release a sublime double A-side when there was absolutely no need to do so.

The pairing "Who Do You Think You Are" and "Hobart Paving" is the sixth double A to take a Smash Hits Single of the Fortnight Best New Single in the first decade-and-a-half of the top pop mag. Significantly, though, only one (Jesus Loves You's "Bow Down Mister" / "Love Hurts") was acknowledged as being part of that particular medium in the reviews page. The others (The Jam's "Going Underground" / "Dreams of Children", Tracey Thorn's "Goodbye Joe" / "Plain Sailing", Bomb the Bass' "Don't Make Me Wait" / "Megablast" and, lo and behold, Saint Etienne's "Join Our Club" / "People Get Ready") only had one of their sides credited

A double A-side ought to force fans into making a choice which seemed to happen whenever The Beatles put one out. Do you prefer "We Can Work It Out?" or "Day Tripper"? "Yellow Submarine" or "Eleanor Rigby"? "Strawberry Fields Forever" or "Penny Lane"? "Come Together" or "Something"? If that doesn't happen then it's because fans of the Fab Four just wanted to keep flipping these brilliant records over. (How "Paperback Writer" and "Rain" was never a double A I'll never know) And while this can happen with other bands — "Don't Make Me Wait" / "Megablast" are both bangers — it generally doesn't. Much like on "Who Do You Think You Are", the single people are likely to remember, and "Hobart Paving", the one you either forgot all about or was never even aware of.

Not that "Hobart Paving" is poor. It's actually fairly poignant for them. It just isn't a single under any circumstance. What it sounds like is the penultimate track on an album whose creators wanted to go out on a less downbeat note. (Oh, those jokey closing tracks, the blight of damn-near every Byrds album) In the context of 1993 hits like R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts" and Sting's "Fields of Gold" (not to mention plenty of other slow songs I'd rather not bring up) it might make sense to have such a lush "ballad" compete for a chart position but I'd much rather go with the on-brand Etienne approach of covering an obscure minor hit and turning it into some modern dancefloor fun.

That said, there is more than a little boogie to Candlewick Green's original version of "Who Do You Think You Are?" but it's to the immense credit of Stanley, Wiggs and Cracknell for bringing out in full. (The version by Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods which was a hit in North America is mostly a retread of the original barring the odd sitar spot; did no one prior to Cracknell think of singing it from a female perspective?) Respect to them as well for digging out a largely forgotten single that would have been crying out for a modern rendition. Stock Aitken Waterman wouldn't have drum machined the life out of it had someone like Hazel Dean done a cover of it a decade earlier.

But let's not go nuts here. "Who Do You Think You Are?" is a superb composition but just another fairly great Saint Etienne single. "You're in a Bad Way" blows it out of the murky Thames water. "Avenue" makes Little Debby look like a pile of puke and it's a good deal better than this as well. "Join Our Club" can get a bit much with all it's cleverness but there's really nothing like it that first couple times you put it on. This being a really grim fortnight for new releases, an irritating Alex James and a not as irritating as his detractors claim Damon Albarn (sorry, Sylvia Patterson) were right to go with this admittedly ill-considered double A-side but Saint Etienne was capable of much better. Not to mention Blur, who would soon get a whole lot better, leaving the likes of the 'Tienne well behind. And it wasn't even strictly down to their looks either.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Streetband featuring Paul Young: "Toast"

Erroneously credited to "Street Gang" on the singles review page, this 1978 novelty hit for the band that would soon evolve into The Q-Tips, who would in turn be a gateway for the lengthy and successful MOR recording career of Paul Young, is Albarn and James' runner-up for Best New Single, only losing out due to it being a reissue. I, for one, appreciate hearing Young doing something other than belting his heart out of unnecessary Joy Division and Crowded House covers and duets with Italian Madonnas. But the gag gets tiresome awfully fast. Unless, of course, they really do love their toast. I may just be bitter having not had a decent piece of toast since about 1996 or something. But if that's the worst thing going on in my life (and, let's be honest, it probably is) then I'll take it. The sort of song I can happily never listen to again.

Vic Reeves & The Wonder Stuff: "Dizzy"

18 September 1991

"It is, of course, not advisable to go over the top about these things, but one suspects genius is at work here."

— Mark Frith

In the September 4, 1991 issue of Smash Hits Caroline Sullivan had positive things to say about stellar pop luminaries like Bros ("it really is your proverbial startling departure"), Chesney Hawkes ("you'll either adore this or go into insulin shock from its sugar content" — okay, this one wasn't entirely positive but she certainly didn't crap all over it) and Heavy D & The Boyz ("I like it"). A good fortnight for people who were never much cop to begin with and who were now faced with irrelevance.

But not everything Sullivan reviewed was able to put that winning smile on her face. Among those that displease her most is "Sleep Alone" by The Wonder Stuff. Describing it as "typical Stuff 'n' nonsense", she lists its "zestful" guitar, "weed-filled" singing (does she mean "weedy" or is she implying that Miles Hunt had smoked up prior to the recording session?) and a "hey-nonnyish folk feel" as some of the qualities that make it just another lame record in their catalog. Did Caroline listen to "Sleep Alone" though? It's a rare love song for them and as such refuses to ramrod over its audience. It's nothing like your average Stuffy fare, Carrie.

To be fair, it isn't much of a single. I didn't even know it had been released in 45 form until I got the Stuffies' compilation Had The Beatles Read Hunter...The Singles for Christmas in 1994. It was one of my faves from their third album Never Loved Elvis but it wasn't the sort of thing that was able to stand on its own. As such, it is probably for the best that it would end up being sacrificed. Faith in "Sleep Alone" was such that it was released in direct competition with The Wonder Stuff's brand new collaboration with comedian Vic Reeves on their cover of the 1969 Tommy Roe bubblegum pop hit "Dizzy". Or was it? While the former was promptly released only to fail to make the Top 40, falling off the charts completely in just two weeks, the latter didn't end up being coming out until a month after this issue of ver Hits appeared in ver shops. I wasn't there at the time but I imagine promotion of the first record was kept to a minimum, (despite the production values of the video which makes them look like a combination of The Cure and Jellyfish) while little was spared on the second.

With "Sleep Alone" rid of it was time for the main event. An indie band at their peak with one of the most popular comedians of the age doing a pop hit from the sixties that no one could remember seemed like gold. Perhaps thinking of the 1989 Bananarama/French & Saunders team up on the Comic Relief interpretation of The Beatles' "Help!", I assumed it had to be a charity single. Turns out, Vic fancied himself a serious recording artist with a Top 10 hit — and (undeserved) Single of the Fortnight — with the frankly boring cover of "Born Free", a record of interest only to gauge if it was meant to be funny all along (it wasn't and it isn't). Having a proper band to work with here may have been good for the former James Moir. With Miles Hunt spitting out backing vocals like he was attempting to take over the recording ("Di-Zay!"), Reeves had to be at his best. He can't really sing but happily he didn't need to here. Just to bellow out some impassioned and ferocious sandpapery vocals is more than enough.

With two dodgy singers on form, "Dizzy" delivered. While popular and well-remembered by many Britons of a certain age (it meant absolutely nothing in North America where Reeves was even more of an unknown than the Stuffies), it isn't without its critics. Tom Ewing gave it a four out of ten when he reviewed it on his Popular blog, though it's likely he would've scored it even lower at the time ("listening to it now it's better than I remember"). Basically, the whole thing steamrollers over you, without a single second wasted on subtlety or humour. And I agree, only I absolutely love this song.

Being that I've never had anything to do with Reeves beyond this and that time I blogged about his other fluke hit, I can only hear it as The Wonder Stuff. They're not guesting on a Vic Reeves record, he's MC'ing for them. In retrospect it's convenient to say that the momentum had been building for Hunt and co. but is that necessarily the case? I had been unaware of them when they made their first appearances on the UK singles charts with positions that kept improving but they were a volatile act that could have easily disappeared as Madchester began its ascent. A key single is the stand alone "Circlesquare" which introduced the group's new sound and lineup while seemingly having a go at this baggy sound of the day.

Though Hunt would tell ver Hits' Richard Lowe that "we could never make a dance record", "Circlesquare" came close dancefloor fave but it only ended up making number twenty. A respectable spot that they'd never previously reached but nevertheless an indication that they weren't quite as capable as, say, The Farm at jumping on a bandwagon to score an easy mega-hit. Contemporary bands they were often associated with (Pop Will Eat Itself, Ned's Atomic Dustbin) had a pop chart ceiling and ver Stuff looked like they were no different. They spent the summer of 1990 touring with Canadian folk rock group Spirit of the West, for god's sake.

A year later and they were one of the biggest groups in the country. Madchester was already fading and shoegaze was never going to light the charts ablaze so it was left to grebo to fill the void. Proving yet again that the best student bands aren't made up of, well, students, they were huge in the student union bars (as well soulmates Spirit of the West back in Canada). I've heard their Top 5 hit "The Size of a Cow" referred to as a nineties "Come on Eileen" (no source on that one but I've heard it nonetheless) but I don't imagine impressionable kids were buying it like they had Dexys a decade earlier. I was fourteen at the time and probably among the youngest Wonder Stuff fan you could find (I certainly was at my school where no one else knew who the hell they were).

Regardless, they'd had a pair of hits (the follow-up to "Size of a Cow" was "Caught in My Shadow", which deserved to be the teen angst anthem of its day; the song was my entree into the Stuffies and is still a big favourite of mine) and a Top 3 album. They were also doing good business on the road. "Dizzy" sounds like an account of the experience. For any hard-hearted, moaning students who refused to get up for "Cow", we'll dare you to try this same with this one. Tommy Roe's original is very much a product of its time and a bit uncertain of itself (it sounds like it could've been a country hit had it just been tweaked a little) but the singer does indeed sound like he's dizzy. In this case, it's as if they're attempting to make everyone else feel this way. Kids my age even caught on.

Audiences felt dizzy enough with joy that they took Vic Reeves and The Wonder Stuff to number one in November of 1991. The Reeves & Mortimer comedy duo became bigger (or so I hear) and Stourbridge's finest returned to the Top 10 in the new year with Never Loved Elvis cut "Welcome to the Cheap Seats", yet another studenty singalong, which managed to buck the law of diminishing returns. They even headlined the first night of the 1992 Reading Festival. (The Sunday bill was designed to be free of the "lame-ass limey bands" that Kurt Cobain was against: somehow or other Hunt faced a lot more blow back for his anti-American statements than that sensitive soul who led Nirvana)  Things looked up even though The Wonder Stuff would never be as big as they were during that year when the stars aligned and students everywhere got drunk to them. Oh, to be young again...

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Paul Young: "Don't Dream It's Over"

If you've ever wondered if your favourite song has been covered by anyone of note, there's a reasonably good chance that Paul Young has had a crack at it. Some have worked and they tend to be of the soul music "persuasion". "Don't Dream It's Over" isn't a soul song which might be why he made it so bland. Frith mentions that it's a cover of "one-hit wonders" Crowded House, a group that would become "thirteen-hit wonders" by the time of their initial split five years later. In fact, "Fall at Your Feet" would give them their second Top 40 hit just a couple weeks after Paul Young took this into the listings. Coincidence? Probably but at least Neil Finn was getting some credit and royalty checks. Too bad we probably won't be seeing them in this space. So, to sum: Paul Young isn't very good but Crowded House are. Not the most illuminating commentary of my part, is it?

Paul Young: "Love of the Common People"

24 November 1983

"...it's hardly any surprise to discover that the panel unanimously voted it "a whopper"."

— Jools Holland

Allow me, before I begin, to drop in a pair of aphorisms I've written especially for this week's post — "in a world in which everyone is a critic, who critiques the critics?" and "sometimes you bite the panel and sometimes the panel bites you". I read "national" "treasure" Jools Holland's singles review guest spot and I've decided to assemble my very own panel of four very real, in no way conjured up in my imagination members of the public to go through them with me and provide their thoughts. We've decided to go through it subject by subject.

~~~~~

"Crazy Over You" vs. "Love of the Common People": The Single of the Fortnight Wars

So, technically, "Love of the Common People" isn't this issue's SOTF. True, it earned 'Whopper' status from Holland's panel and more praise than any other records up for consideration but someone decided to shove their own single on, then bashed a panelist for rightly pointing out a conflict of interest and unilaterally declared it to be "Single Of The Week" (sic.) "...if not The Decade". I'm glad at least one person thought highly of "Crazy Over You". I don't care about the ethics of choosing your own single — we'll eventually get to a couple examples of exactly that on here — but there's something a bit off about using your position as guest reviewer to get your own record on. Plus, the panel didn't have anything to contribute (either that or Holland didn't wish to include whatever they may have had to say). Finally, it's probable that this was all just a big joke: I mean, really, not even Jools Holland could have liked this lousy record, right? My panel agree that "Crazy Over You" sucks but they don't care about my justifications for disqualifying it from being SOTF. They're quite the jolly gang, this lot.

Jeff Lynne Ain't Fat and Neither Is His Production

Perhaps Holland couldn't bring himself to say anything positive about the latest from Electric Light Orchestra because it's not up to much, not even ELO by numbers. So, he goes off on a long-winded thing about the fat production but that we shouldn't confuse that with Jeff Lynn's (sic.) weight or something. Helpful. The panel had never stopped to consider the great songwriter's body-mass index before but clearly aren't interested in a deeper-dive. Fumbling for quite what to say, I mention that I'd like to form a jazz Electric Light Orchestra/Emerson, Lake & Palmer tribute act called 'Electric Lake Quintet' (because, you know, ELO, ELP, ELQ!) but they remain unmoved. Where did I dig up these lifeless dullards?

Nope, Not at All Condescending

"Love of the Common People"? Yeah, best not talk down to the lower orders, treat 'em with dignity and respect.

"...of Channel 4's The Tube"?

I'm surprised to see this brief descriptive below His Nibs' name since (a) he's bloody Jools Holland and surely everyone knows who he is and always has and (b) has he always been known as a TV presenter? Was there ever a time in which he was simply a pianist with Squeeze and, er, Jools Holland's Magnificent Boogie Woogie Summer Fun Band? Everyone on the panel shrugs. They all like him but one woman complains that it's been "far too long since he's had Simply Red on" which is a fair point.

Poverty

There are great songs about economic hardship. Elvis Presley's "In the Ghetto" and Stevie Wonder's "Living for the City" are but two. Phil Collins' "Another Day in Paradise" is another except it isn't much cop at all. But what these two good songs and a bad one share is that poverty is a societal ill that needs dealing with. Solutions may differ (Wonder's stance seems to be that it's ingrained, Collins takes a gentler, if quite naive, approach that we should all try to be just a bit more considerate towards the destitute) but at least they're offering something. "Love of the Common People", not so much. Hard work, prayer, resignation, stoicism: this is what the common folk are all about. Don't try to help them, they don't need it and didn't ask for it. The panel look on askance and I'm pretty sure they think I'm an elitist. Bloody proles.

Short Shrift for ver Picks

"A very pretty song sung by this devastating vocal group": Holland's well thought-out feelings on The Flying Pickets' "Only You" in full. His beloved panel apparently weren't needed for this one. Holland either didn't know or didn't feel it necessary to bring up that it was a cover of Yazoo's excellent original nor that it was destined to be that year's Christmas number one. (He didn't even give us his odds for what Mrs. Thatcher would make of it) My panel agree with Holland's assessment ("spot on," one chap states) and not one of them seems to believe me when I bring up the Pickets' socialism and support for striking miners. But I'm the elitist.

You're the Voice

1983 was Paul Young's year (and he would have some more, culminating with a performance at Live Aid that won the hearts of a lot of housewives the world over) and his reviews of the time all praise his sturdy vocal chops — although that's hardly a surprise here given the lame material he was working with. And, yeah, there is something to his voice: soulful, affecting, just a bit sandpappery for gravitas. Doesn't overdo it either. I tell the panel about my background as a bit of a Youngarian: when I was thirteen and not particularly interested in being hip, I quite liked him, his version of "Oh Girl" getting to number one on my own version of the chart. The panel nod along kind of indifferently, which does sum up Young fandom. I ask them to name their favourite Paul Young song and they mention "Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)" and "Everytime You Go Away" but I'm surprised to hear that they don't rate "Senza una donna", his '91 hit with Italian singer Zucchero (he could have been as big as Madonna, you know). One fellow chimes in with praise for his work with Mike + The Mechanics but I point out that he's talking about a different Paul Young. I suspect the panel think I'm a know-it-all.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kirsty MacColl: "Terry"

Uh, What's Going on in That Video?

Our Kirsty is a bubbly ginger with a killer smile living in the fifties with a geeky boyfriend —who we'll call 'Bernard' — who treats her poorly and doesn't deserve her. Tall, handsome, "tough as Marlon Brando" Terry comes along, pushes Bernard out of the way and sweeps her off her feet. Bernard comes knocking at her door in tears but she casts him aside and rides off into the sunset with good, old Terry. True love. They wind up at a club with Terr playing a gig with his band before Bernard crashes the stage with a wild guitar solo. In the ensuing melee, Bernard knocks out Terry and, suddenly, he and Kirsty are back together. Oh wait, is Terry actually Bernard and Bernard Terry? Maybe all guys are half Terry, half Bernard. (Mind blown!) The panel isn't exactly riveted by my analysis so I pour us all whiskys and we have a laugh at Ade Edmondson's performance as Terry/Bernard and we long for the days when Kirsty MacColl was still alive to make the pop scene and our lives just that much better.