Lonnie Gordon: "Happenin' All Over Again"

24 January 1990

"Hold on to your trousers! It's time for disco fun!"

— William Shaw

The week of March 12, 1989 may have been the apogee of the Stock Aitken Waterman production/songwriting team. Sure, four singles in the Top 40 was just a routine showing for them but they all occupied places in the upper half of the chart and were all of significance. Three of the top four spots were SAW compositions and/or productions. Jason Donovan was enjoying a second week at number one with "Too Many Broken Hearts", an exuberant bit of pop fluff in which the Neighbours star just about manages to sing his way through without cracking. Two places below was Bananarama's charity cover of The Beatles' "Help" along with comedians Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders and Kathy Burke which was that year's Comic Relief single. One notch down from it was "This Time I Know It's for Real" by disco legend Donna Summer.

What's amazing about this is that SAW had three potential number ones in competition with each other. Donovan's singing career started slowly with the poor "Nothing Can Divide Us" the previous September (still a Top 5 smash) but his star was on the rise, especially after the chart topping success of "Especially for You" alongside fellow Australian Kylie Minogue just after Christmas. The 'Narns had come up short of the top spot a couple times and "Help!" was widely tipped to be their first chart topper, especially since they had the charity single advantage. Summer hadn't been at the top of the UK charts in a dozen years but her offering was the best of the lot and might have stood a chance of equaling "I Feel Love" under the right circumstances.

The fourth SAW record on that week's top 40 is probably the most influential. At number twelve (and soon to be in the top 10) was "I'd Rather Jack" by The Reynolds Girls. Having been ignored by voters at that year's Brit Awards, the trio resolved to put out the most feeble protest song imaginable in response. It didn't matter that their sales were way in front of everyone else in pop at the time, the critics didn't like them and DJ's weren't playing them (both over-simplifications mind you) and that just wouldn't do. As if proving their detractors' point that SAW could put out any old crap sung by a pair of no-names and still have a hit with it, "I'd Rather Jack" did well. It struck a chord with kids who felt that a mind-numbingly boring single like "Belfast Child" by Simple Minds had no business being number one hit, even if absolutely no one bought their attempt to align themselves with the burgeoning house music scene.

It is the legacy of "I'd Rather Jack" that is the most troubling. As I stated above, The Reynolds Girls were nobodies. Liverpool sisters Linda and Aisling Reynolds sent mogul Pete Waterman a demo and the wheels were in motion. They were meant to represent the average pop fan in the late-eighties as they railed against "Pink Floyd, Dire Straits, it's not our music, it's out of date". They weren't plucked from an Aussie soap like Kylie and Jason, they weren't groomed for stardom like Rick Astley, they weren't an established pop act like Bananarama, they weren't even a struggling band in need of a hit like Brother Beyond: they were a pair of girls having a laugh and this seemed reason enough to make them into stars. As the year progressed, Astley, the 'Narns and the Yond all began to walk away from the SAW stable. Their replacements were the likes of Sonia and Big Fun who were very cut from the same cloth as the Reynolds Girls (Neil Tennant even commented that if the Reynolds Girls could be combined into one person the result would be Sonia). Your average person could seemingly be a star and this was something that would carry over into Pop Idol and The X Factor in the future. Pop music has never fully recovered.

SAW looked to continue their dominance into the nineties. Though some of their name acts were in the midst of moving on, they still had a strong selection of stars to work with. The had risen to the challenge of collaborating with Donna Summer and it was hoped more hits would be on the way. A planned second album would end up being nixed after the singer was unable to return to the UK. This would have to be considered a huge missed opportunity for SAW. Not only did they lose out on the finest vocalist they ever worked with, they also missed the boat in terms of other American acts they could've helped revive. The expectation was on Summer coming to them but why didn't they travel across the Atlantic in order to record her? Setting up shop in Los Angeles would have then allowed them easier access to Barry Manilow, Dionne Warwick and a host of aging talents in need of some chart action.

But, then, why would they come to any of their acts when their acts could come to them? If Summer wasn't available then why not recruit a would-be diva who was? This amounts to how they ended up gifting "Happenin' All Over Again" to Lonnie Gordon when it was meant for the Queen of Disco.

Obviously Summer would've made more of it but Gordon does all right herself. Borrowing from Italian house, her voice is manipulated not unlike Black Box's massive "Ride on Time". Indeed, there's a strong Eurodisco vibe which suggests SAW were subtly trying to change up the formula for a new decade. In any event, the vocalist present is in fine form which just about hides the fact that the songwriting team was running on fumes. William Shaw's enthusiastic review mentions Summer's hit from a year earlier and how this is a return to that pumping sound of old. True but I'm not so sure that's a good thing. Neither is the line early in the song about how the antagonist put his "hand upon [his] heart" which is a callback to Kylie's hit from the previous year. Referencing earlier material, using a little-known vocalist in place of a superstar, borrowing tricks from house music: perhaps SAW were losing their sharpness.

None of this mattered at the time as "Happenin' All Over Again" went top 5. In spite of the new bells and whistles, this was the SAW of old and that was good enough. The shiny, glorious pop of "Showing Out", "Love in the First Degree", "Never Gonna Give You Up", "I Should Be So Lucky" and, yes, "This Time I Know It's for Real" was back and it was set to happen all over again. Unless, of course, SAW were about to dry up. At least they had one big star left for them to funnel all their remaining great songs through. What had Kylie been up to?

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Also of some cop

Everything but the Girl: "Driving"

My god, what a poor crop of singles we have this fortnight. I don't have much of an issue with Shaw's choice of SOTF because the rest of the competition is so dismal. Coming in second is the latest from Everything but the Girl. There's a lot of the late-eighties to "Driving" (slick production, loads of sax) but Tracey Thorn can overcome a lot with her voice. It would definitely have been better had her and Ben Watt kept things simple with acoustic guitar strumming and maybe a delicate piano as backing. Something they might want to return to if they ever get round to recording together again.

Everything but the Girl: "Mine"

14 July 1984

"This is one of the best singles I've heard for a long time and it should be a big hit if they've finished their exams and want to do a bit of promotion."

— Andy Taylor

Cor! A special edition of VER HITS!

You've probably noticed that this entry is early. Yes! I've flouted my once-a-week rules and have provided an extra review for your reading pleasure. Except this one isn't from the pages of Smash Hits magazine. Instead, we have the first in an occasional series of pieces about singles reviewed in rival and/or related publications. First up is Record Mirror, once a sturdy tabloid inky that battled it out with Melody Maker and New Music Express but which had recently gone the glossy pop mag route to compete with ver Hits. A special thanks to Michael Kane's fantastic Flickr archive for posting this issue. I highly recommend you visit this page, it makes for a nice companion to Brian McCloskey's indispensable Smash Hits site.

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Smash Hits scooped up John Taylor to guest review the singles just a few weeks earlier and, not to be outdone, here is Record Mirror drafting in Andy Taylor to give his thoughts on the new releases. (Rest assured, I already checked to see if Roger Taylor got snapped up by Number One to do the deed around this time but, alas, he must have passed on the opportunity; perhaps he was busy looking at farms to purchase and prematurely retire to) Both had their hearts in harder rock than the poncy art school stuff that Simon Le Bon and Nick Rhodes were interested in but you'd hardly notice it here with their respective picks. John opted for the slick 'n' smooth sounds of the Kane Gang while Andy made a case for the sensitive jazz-pop of Everything but the Girl - and over a reissue of a Stones classic (his 'almost single of the week') to boot. Hardly the choice cuts of macho axe men.

Andy Taylor was beginning to give the pop stardom of Duran Duran a rethink so perhaps the understated crispness of Tracey Thorn and Ben Watt proved to be a welcome pallet cleanser: it wasn't necessarily the sort of music he'd play on but did stand in stark contrast to the artifice being dished up by of the biggest group in the world. As his nibs points out, "it's good for people to get into that level of musicianship and also make it commercial at the same time. It's getting away from quick, cheap and nasty." It's hard not to think he has the band he would soon leave in mind as being quick, cheap and nasty (he'd hardly be alone). (Though I feel at pains to point out that The Power Station may not have been quite the direction to have gone in had they been looking for some credibility. Blimey, this is now the second time I've used TPS as a way of taking a shot at a Taylor; I hope I don't blow my load before we get to them early next year)

So, just what made Everything but the Girl, er, slow, expensive and agreeable? Most obviously there's Tracey Thorn, who must be the most resigned vocalist in pop. Post-punk female vocalists in Britain tended towards a nihilistic, lifeless style of singing and some pulled it off but Thorn managed a sullen realism that could also be beautifully expressive. A line like "I'm okay and I don't need his name, thank you / mine fits me nicely, mine will do" probably ought to be delivered by someone with a flippant confidence like Kim Deal but it's all the more poignant conveyed by sheer sorrow. There's no melodrama, however, as Thorn keeps it tight and too the point.

EBTG's other strength here is just what a staggeringly talented pair Thorn and Ben Watt were. I've written before in praise of their respective solo works but the two functioned even more effectively in tandem. Playing with precision and restraint, they conjure up a mood that glides over the listener. Watt's guitar solo is brief but compliments Thorn's performance perfectly and so, too, does a gentle bit of vibes from British jazz musician Bill Le Sage. The playing in general is impeccable with the unlikely team up of jazz veterans and post punkers working magic together. I'm not sure whether they happened to be sitting their exams at the time, as Taylor maybe a bit snarkingly alludes to above, but it's hard to say if something so superb really had much chart potential. Quick, cheap and nasty may have made his skin crawl but it's always been a proven winner for reaching the top forty.

Record Mirror was very much on the serious end of the pop magazine spectrum and this was a reputation that would be difficult to shake in spite of some cutesy gimmicks they would soon start to rely on. While it's difficult to imagine holdover readers from an earlier era remaining loyal, it's also hard to picture many young people, used to the nonsensical joy of Smash Hits, getting sucked into this world of serious and less sparkly pop journalism. A less sparkly member of Duran Duran, Andy Taylor turned out to be the perfect guest reviewer for them — and, indeed, Everything but the Girl's "Mine" proved an appropriate staff pick. Too bad ver kids weren't having it.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Week

John Lennon: "I'm Stepping Out"

"I'm Only Sleeping", "A Day in the Life", "Good Morning Good Morning", "#9 Dream", "Watching the Wheels": yes, John Lennon enjoyed loafing and daydreaming and leafing through a newspaper with the telly on and pop records playing and (probably) a ham radio on all at the same time but at least he wrote plenty of songs about his slothful ways. (The typically contrary bugger that he was, the first chance he had to rest and relax, during The Beatles' meditation sojourn in India, he began feeling restless, which he was good enough to document in song with "I'm So Tired") A nice change, then, to see him getting ready for a night on the town in NYC — except it isn't anything of the sort. Lennon may indeed be stepping out but it's hard to believe he has much enthusiasm for doing so. The second verse gives away the game by admitting that "if it don't feel right, you don't have to do it", while in the third he basically lists off all stuff he normally does — "baby's sleeping, the cats have all been fed / Ain't nothing doing on TV (summer repeats)" — as to delay having to leave the apartment. Lennon was far more sociable in his later years than some would have you believe but he was at heart a homebody. The record isn't bad but, as with much of his work from the end of his life, it's of more value for what it tells us about Lennon's state of mind at the time.