East 17: "Around the World"

27 April 1994

"Never, ever has a single deserved to be number one as much as this one does."

— Leesa Daniels

A slight exaggeration perhaps. "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" deserved it more. "Up the Junction" just as much. I imagine there are a few others but damned if I can think of them. Oh right, there's that fuss everyone in the UK makes at Christmastime over the fact that "Fairytale of New York" failed to nab the top spot back in '87 so I guess it can take its place on here as well. As I say, I'm sure there are a few others but I agree with Leesa Daniels that the latest from East 17 is one of them. It isn't simply a matter of it deserving a chart topper however; "Around the World" also feels like a number one smash.

The boy band ballad is normally a blot on what are frankly not particularly outstanding discographies to begin with. I remember coming back to Canada from our year in England to the New Kids on the Block phenomenon. I wasn't convinced by them but at least I could understand what girls around my age saw in the likes of "You Got It (The Right Stuff)" and "Cover Girl" but when it came to weepies like "Please Don't Go Girl" and "I'll Be Loving You (Forever)" I could see no merit whatsoever. You could always count on a sickly ballad to occasionally spoil Take That's otherwise impressive run of stellar singles. And don't get me started on all those horrible all-male US R&B acts of the era. 

But East 17 seemed suited to the slower grooves on "Deep" and "Around the World" while more uptempo selections like "House of Love" and "It's Alright" only exposed them as way out of Take That's league. Part of the key to their success may have been due to not getting too soft even when tackling more laid back material. Tony Mortimer's raps are better suited to the slower-paced numbers and there's greater overall space available for some fine Brian Harvey singing and even a separate rap from lesser 'Teen Tony Coldwell, a man who happens to be the last remaining original member of the group as they perform at nostalgia fests and pop-themed cruise ships near you (probably). Their livelier stuff just seems too crammed with production tricks to worry about getting to the talents of the guys in the group.

Thematically, "Around the World" is not unlike Slade's superb melancholic hit "Far, Far Away" from their still brilliant film Flame. Musically speaking, they're nothing alike but both are about the thrill of being on the road while also being dragged down by it. The Slade song comes from around the time that their imperial period in the early seventies was winding down which may explain why it's considerably more downbeat than what they were usually capable of. But there's not even a faint sense of depression present in regards to East 17. The lyrics read like they've taken a year-long trip around the globe and they're just about ready to head back home.

The one part of the world East 17 didn't seem to be venturing to was North America. The very idea of the Walthamstow quartet cracking the US wasn't even taken seriously while they were enjoying success just about everywhere else. Last week I discussed Eternal's mostly aborted attempt to break into the American market but at least they had that chance; as far as Britain's second biggest boy band was concerned it wasn't even seriously contemplated. Yet, a record like "Around the World" seems like it could have done well over there, perhaps even more so than the equally unloved and unknown — in the States at any rate — "Stay Another Day". Sure, Americans had no use for boy bands in this post-NKOTB, pre-Backstreet Boys void but who could resist casual raps, a glorious melody and some sugar-sweet vocals? 

The one knock I have (aside from them overdoing it on repeated choruses near the end: seriously, wrap it up boys) is Daniels' confident claim that East 17 were Britain's best band. I mean, I kind of like her saying it but timing is everything and she was about to look silly. In the issue following this one there's a review by Mark Sutherland of a new release that was named that fortnight's Best New Album. For many in Britain — and, indeed, quite a few of us elsewhere — it would end up being the album of the year. Blur's Parklife ushered in the Britpop movement which I will admit I have mixed feelings about. Yet, it was — and remains — a revelation. Playfully jumping around from style to style, lots of fun character songs and with far more heart than what they were generally credited with having — and, crucially, it was packed with potential hits. There may have been a bit of a lull in indie rock following the demise of Madchester and the stale state of the bulk of Shoegaze but the guitar bands were back. Good as they may have been, a group like East 17 just wasn't going to be able to cut it for much longer. But at least they got themselves a Christmas Number One in before their inevitable slide down the dumper — and one that just about makes up for this one coming up short.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Beck: "Pay No Mind (Snoozer)"

I get the feeling Daniels isn't into all this indie rubbish. Quite right too, at least in this instance. Like Bowie and Prince before him, Beck was the sort of single-minded individual who you could always admire even if you didn't love absolutely everything he ever recorded. To wit. Our good reviewer is bored stiff by the whole affair but there's an equally important element that she has missed: it sucks. Beck has never been the greatest vocalist out there but he is in particularly weak form on this occasion. It might have been fine as some deep cut filler for breakthrough album Mellow Gold but "Pay No Mind" has no business as a single. No one absolutely no one bought it. The slacker musical maverick really grabbed attention during this time but he didn't really come into his own until the audacious Midnite Vultures and the tender Sea Change, when he actually seemed to care about what he was doing as opposed to this pathetic nonsense.

Take That: "Babe"

8 December 1993

"So any volunteers to smother him in kisses, hug him and tell him everything's gonna be OK...will have to queue behind me, all right?!"

— Leesa Daniels

Novelty songs, spirited but pointless covers, timely re-releases, festive cheer that rapidly wears off, Cliff: (sigh) and yet another Christmas Number One battle takes place.

It must have seemed like the crown was Take That's to lose, which is as sure a sign as any that they would come up short. Rick Astley failed to nab it in '87, Bros lost out a year later and Wham! only managed do so quite recently when the charts were well and truly broken. "Babe" being the odds on favourite ultimately rendered it a longshot.

I remember the first time I saw a photo of Take That in an imported (and expensive) copy of Number One back in the summer of 1991. They looked hopeless. It no doubt didn't help that the quintet were posed with Keely Hawkes, the photogenic sister of recent pop sensation Chesney, and they appeared to be her modestly talented backing band or (worse yet) her posse of himbo dancers. The small write up mentioned that they had a single out called "Do What U Like". Pop star Kenny Thomas gave it a fairly encouraging review when he guested in the singles seat in Smash Hits but it's a dismal first try. While Bros stumbled in similar fashion with their first release, pop stardom was right around the corner for them; in the case of Take That, it was going to take a good deal longer. 

Further releases over the next year and a half reflected a generally upward trend. The cover version route helped them crack the Top 10 but, wisely, it was a well they went to only on occasion. "Do What U Like" may have been the best Gary Barlow was capable of while only just out of his teens but by 1993 he was as capable a songwriter as any of his much more ballyhooed indie rock contemporaries.

Not that "Babe" is one of his more exceptional compositions. The song's narrative seems to depict a good-for-nothing bloke who runs out on his lass who also happens to be with child. Despite being told that she has moved on (in a literal sense though the choice of phrasal verb implies that she's happy to be rid of him by now) But now he's back and looking to rekindle things. Is he committed to swallowing some humble pie? Will he offer up a mea culpa? We aren't to know.

Much was made of this being Mark Owen's first solo vocal. Though Robbie Williams certainly had his share of admirers, his boyish looks made him unquestionably the group's most popular member. This factor alone was reason enough to give him the spotlight for their stab at the festive top spot but there's another matter worth considering. Robbie's voice wouldn't have suited a number like "Babe": he no doubt would have come across as arrogant and uncaring. (Though the song's lyrics tell a separate story, I always hear a bit of spite in the Robbie led "Everything Changes") On the other hand, Gary Barlow probably would sounded too apologetic even if he believed himself to be innocent. ("Whatever I did, whatever I said, I didn't mean it" is a highlight of future  Single of the Fortnight Best New Single "Back for Good" but clueless contrition doesn't work when it comes to begging for another chance years after walking out on a girlfriend) But Mark is so sweet and innocent that we just have to take his side even if he's clearly the bastard.

While Take That have long been my favourite boy band, "Babe" has never been one of their great records, as opposed to "Pray", "Back for Good" and "Never Forget". That said, I'll give them a nod for trying something a little different. It's easy to imagine forces both in and outside the band pushing for the a song like "Love Ain't Here Anymore" to be their Christmas release — and they wouldn't even necessarily have been wrong. Gun to my head I'll take the one that isn't "Babe" but there's no question which one has been done a million times before and which one has the spark of originality to it.

Mind you, it's just a spark. The lyrics are clumsy and the backing vocals are so arranged as to make us think that the oft repeated "where have you been?" line is directed at the girl. I might lose myself in liking it for a while until I remember all the manipulative tricks that have been thrown in — and that's before we even get to the video which has Mark returning from the Somme or Passchendaele or Vimy having seen off the Germans only to return home to his belle and the son he's never met. He walked out on her in service to his country though nothing in the song itself would suggest this takes place.

It was in Smash Hits just over ten years earlier that Deborah Steels expressed her appreciation for Fun Boy Three's "Our Lips Are Sealed" by wanting to give singer Terry Hall a "big hug". Reviewer Leesa Daniels wishes to console Mark Owen in similar fashion upon listening to "Babe" but in this case her sympathy is wasted. Still, where would pop music be if we weren't being gently steered into taking the side of rogues?

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

D:Ream: "Things Can Only Get Better"

Technically there are four UK Number One hits up for consideration in this issue. The only thing is, only three of them went to the top spot at this time. (Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "The Power of Love" got a seasonal re-release which did decently enough) D:Ream's signature hit had previously managed only to peaked in the twenties but the post-Christmas rush and a prominent spot opening for (who else?) Take That on their tour was all that was needed for a spruced up remix of "Things Can Only Get Better" to get a second chance. I used to really like its synth-pop adjacent sound but was always turned off a bit by Peter Cunnah's boy band voice. For many, it would be ruined by the Labour Party three years later but given what Tony Blair managed to accomplish in Cunnah's native Northern Ireland (just about the only thing Britons ought to respect him for) it seems oddly appropriate. I couldn't say if it has aged well or not but I have certainly outgrown it.

Spin Doctors: "Two Princes"

28 April 1993

"A thumping drum beat with guitars rocking all over the place, it makes you want to jump onto the nearest table and dance and twirl and swing your head around until you eventually, er, pass out!"

— Leesa Daniels

The rock and roll canon is largely the baby of drab baby boomer mag Rolling Stone and their quest to turn a once-rebellious medium into something as establishment as the government and giant corporations. Nauseating individuals like the magazine's founder Jann Wenner anointed themselves as a good taste brigade which dictated the popular music they deemed it okay to like and, equally crucially, that which they felt wasn't worth bothering with. With the rise of so-called poptimism in the twenty-first century, however, the canon was faced with a do or die choice: open it up to the candyfloss pop which they once despised (Wenner is the same person who won't let The Monkees even be considered for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame) or be even more irrelevant than they already were. It was an easy choice to make.

Because poptimism stood against the idea of listeners having guilty pleasures, the reverse canon of crap has faded away over the last twenty years or so. You like what you like and that's all there is to it. Sure, make your 500 Greatest Albums or 200 Hundred Greatest Singers lists but let's all steer clear of the worsts. Why even have 'worst of' lists when it's okay to like everything?

Yeah, those worst of lists, they were something else. Maxim Blender, an ill-fated but noble attempt to bring Smash Hits/Q bitchy humour to North American music print media, was a big backer of these. Starship, which had once thrived with critics as Jefferson Airplane, typically topped them with their massively popular albeit now seemingly universally despised hit "We Built This City" but NYC quartet Spin Doctors also played a part in the canon of music you were supposed to hate. Not that there wasn't good reason to dislike this bunch of irritating slackers whose recorded work really made alternative music even more meaningless than it already was. 

But what if Spin Doctors were never that bad? What if their biggest hit "Two Princes" was fun, uplifting and insanely catchy rather than annoying, overplayed and trite? What it it's something the majority of us wish to come back to on Spotify or YouTube from time to time rather than the kind of thing we could happily do without for the remainder of our days?

"Two Princes" has the grain of a good, sturdy song hidden underneath a load of nonsense. The drum part sounds vaguely sampled which lends it a familiarity that avoids making it sound exactly like everything else. (It's as if the band couldn't secure the rights to "Funky Drummer" and, thus, had percussionist Aaron Comess attempt to replicate it which he couldn't; this is something that jazz trumpeters have been doing since the heyday of Louis Armstrong: in failing to imitate their hero, they develop a voice of their own) The guitar is just about punchy enough without taking them too far down the grunge route. It all teeters on the edge of being legit indie but doesn't quite make it.

As the good folk at Maxim Blender said, "the very sound of "Two Princes" evokes the way the Spin Doctors looked". This is an uncharitable view — as they themselves acknowledge — if unquestionably true. Chris Barron "sings" like a lovable stoner idiot and that's precisely the way he looked. On the other hand, that was their charm. They looked like people out of Dazed and Confused (or, better yet, the sort of people who should have been in Dazed and Confused). Grunge acts had done away with attempting to make themselves presentable and we were now left with very little gulf between bands and their audiences. Did it matter to people who chose to put on Spin Doctors' CDs how goofy their lyrics were? No, I'm quite confident that they either expected them that way or they didn't care one way or the other.

Writing about this, I'm feeling rather lost. I don't love this song, I don't even like it much, but I don't hate it either — and, most concerning, I'm not feeling indifferent. There's so much to unpack (is it all calculated or did they fall ass-backward into a hit single?) with a great deal that fascinates me. Did I ever like this? (I don't think so) Did I used to hate it? (No, but I certainly recall getting sick of it, especially the infernal 'just go ahead now' line) Who did like this? (Well, people who looked like members of the Spin Doctors, obviously but there must have been others) Was it really worth the bother of anyone hating it? (No, the charts have seen much worse) With the benefit of hindsight, the backlash towards "Two Princes" says a lot more about its time than the song itself. The nineties were supposed to be a return to authentic rock but the Spin Doctors only revealed how hollow alternative music had become. "Alternative to what?" various grunge artists would ask in interviews. Well, quite.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

David Bowie: "Black Tie White Noise"

With the disastrous Glass Spider tour now a distant memory and that very pointless Tin Machine project out of his system, it was time for Dame David to have a much-needed return to form. Black Tie White Noise would be just that sort of thing and if you didn't happen to agree follow-up The Buddha of Suburbia would be his next return to form, followed by Outside the following year and so forth for the remainder of his career (except for Hours, which everyone seemed to know right away wasn't all that good). Top 10 hit "Jump They Say" was the more obvious hit but the title track was a worthy 45 in its own right and probably deserved a good deal better than the cup of coffee it "enjoyed" in the lower end of the Top 40. Not quite Bowie in peak seventies form but an impressive start to those 'return to form' years.