One week at number one on 22nd May 1982
In the eyes of the music critics, Vince Clarke was always going to be the winner for leaving Depeche Mode. It probably wasn’t intended as a cynical political move, but it worked in his favour – as a brand (rather than a band) they were cute, young, teeny and unashamedly pop, and arguably disposable too. Their name even translated (arguably) as "Hurried Fashion", as if to accidentally hint at a certain lack of long term plan.
By departing with some vague excuses about not enjoying the trappings of being in a group, his stance could be read as personal, disapproving of their style or direction, or artistic depending on what you wanted to believe. It was certainly an admirably bold step; few band members have quit right after their first major hit single and gone on to further success.
While hindsight proves that his move wasn’t a dumb one, it would be wrong to assume he always felt secure about his decision. Shortly after leaving and before more concrete arrangements had been made, he wondered whether he could make a living as a songwriter, and he initially offered “Only You” to the band he had just left. There’s a beautiful alternate timeline opening up here which allows us to go wild imagining what Depeche Mode would have made of this song (I’m slightly surprised somebody hasn’t tried to do this with AI technology already). I’m straining and failing to hear it; there’s something about “Only You” which doesn’t sound like it should be sung by Dave Gahan, and the arrangement is also gentle and simplistic rather than featuring the broad atmospheric sweeps the band would quickly utilise.
While hindsight proves that his move wasn’t a dumb one, it would be wrong to assume he always felt secure about his decision. Shortly after leaving and before more concrete arrangements had been made, he wondered whether he could make a living as a songwriter, and he initially offered “Only You” to the band he had just left. There’s a beautiful alternate timeline opening up here which allows us to go wild imagining what Depeche Mode would have made of this song (I’m slightly surprised somebody hasn’t tried to do this with AI technology already). I’m straining and failing to hear it; there’s something about “Only You” which doesn’t sound like it should be sung by Dave Gahan, and the arrangement is also gentle and simplistic rather than featuring the broad atmospheric sweeps the band would quickly utilise.
The group turned Clarke down, perhaps inevitably feeling that buying second-hand songs off the band member who had just walked away would not be an act of confidence and could potentially seal their fate. Had they accepted, it would also have deprived Clarke of his first major hit as a non-member of the band; sometimes it’s for the best that paths remain unexplored.
What he did instead was quickly hook up creatively with a local woman, the ex-Screamin’ Ab Dabs member Alison Moyet. Moyet was from a very different school of thought to Clarke and his ex-Depeche friends, having a background in punk and R&B groups and a powerful, expressive voice which couldn’t have been less akin to the sulky mid-range Gahan inhabited. There was a wildness and directness to her approach which opened up all manner of fresh possibilities for Clarke as a songwriter, not least the chance to act against the critical cliché that all synth groups were in some way “cold and emotionally detached”.
In this respect, “Only You” is a slightly strange opening effort in that it doesn’t make the most of her abilities. There’s a daintiness to it that doesn’t give her much to play with – from the intro onwards, the precise, pinging, staccato synth lines remind me of an electronic version of the sounds seeping from a wind-up musical box. It’s pretty and memorable but lyrically and melodically simplistic. The intro provides a solid foundation and the track never moves very far away, stuck in its own delicate and very unspecific mourning for a failed love affair (rather like “See You”, this is romance presented as a series of sketchy outline Mills and Boon details, filled with touched hands behind closed doors and women sulkily looking out of windows).
It was a huge number two hit, which makes its later fate seem inexplicable. It’s possible I’m listening to the wrong radio stations or hanging around the wrong shopping centres, but its status seems to have slipped over the years and I can’t remember the last time I heard it. Listening to it again for the first time in forever, I’m struck by how much of a passing novelty it may have seemed in 1982; Moyet may not be given many chances to stretch herself, but her voice is a lot more naturally expressive and technically proficient than many of her straining New Romantic rivals. She manages to bring warmth to some slightly flimsy lyrics and a sense of genuine emotional investment – Phil Oakey, Dave Gahan, and even Marc Almond at this point couldn’t have sold the song as well. In tandem with her, the gentle jewellery box synth backing adds a sentimental touch which can either seem irksome or moving depending on your emotional state when you press play.
Perhaps there’s another reason it’s not given as much space these days. The following year, an a cappella act known as The Flying Pickets (who have subsequently become the ultimate Trigger’s Broom of British pop) covered it and became the Christmas number one. The Pickets had a background in theatre and appeared on various daytime TV shows and family entertainment programmes as their single climbed the charts. They were more Pebble Mill than Blitz Kid, loved by the Mums and Dads more than the kids who bought Yazoo’s original record, and the group made merry with the song’s minimalist structure, using it as a showcase for their abilities as a vocal act to impersonate every click, hum, trill and ting of the original (though I insisted at the time, and continue to insist now, that there is at least one moment where an actual synth creeps into the arrangement).
The Pickets version is part light entertainment magic trick, part skilful adaption, but it’s success was such that when my brain reaches for the track now, it’s their version I hear rather than Yazoo’s original. Instead of seeing Vince and Alf on Top of the Pops, all I have in my mind’s eye are visions of Supply Teacher Picket, Spiv Picket, Ted Picket, Sideboards Picket and Nosferatu Picket. None of this is Vince Clarke’s fault, who probably assumed he was agreeing the rights to the song to some jobbing performers who would go on to sell 500 copies of it to people who attended their shows, but the damage was done.
Perhaps the Pickets also heard something in the song that’s always been apparent to me - a distinct touch of Christmas which made it ripe for seasonal manipulation. While the original was released during the late Spring period, it’s always sounded stark and wintery, like Alison Moyet was snowbound, trapped in a bedroom, staring outwards at a crystalline Basildon, lonely this Christmas and wondering where it all went wrong.
She would have opportunities to appear a little less tragic in the very near future.
“Only You” peaked at number two in the Official Charts not long after Pigbag departed the number three slot, meaning for the first time since beginning this blog I’ve found myself writing about two top three hits back-to-back. This was unprecedented in the indie world, but if you think it seems as successful as 1982 can get… man oh man do you have a surprise coming up before the year ends.
Toyah enters at number 17 with “Brave New World”, with a video which proved the director had admired David Bowie’s “Ashes To Ashes” rather too much. Besides that, the song is something of a return to form, playing to her obvious strengths rather than her artpop desires – the chorus has the heft of any of her prime hits and it was unlucky to stop one place short of the national Top 20.
It would ultimately peak at number 4 in the indies.
Perhaps there’s another reason it’s not given as much space these days. The following year, an a cappella act known as The Flying Pickets (who have subsequently become the ultimate Trigger’s Broom of British pop) covered it and became the Christmas number one. The Pickets had a background in theatre and appeared on various daytime TV shows and family entertainment programmes as their single climbed the charts. They were more Pebble Mill than Blitz Kid, loved by the Mums and Dads more than the kids who bought Yazoo’s original record, and the group made merry with the song’s minimalist structure, using it as a showcase for their abilities as a vocal act to impersonate every click, hum, trill and ting of the original (though I insisted at the time, and continue to insist now, that there is at least one moment where an actual synth creeps into the arrangement).
The Pickets version is part light entertainment magic trick, part skilful adaption, but it’s success was such that when my brain reaches for the track now, it’s their version I hear rather than Yazoo’s original. Instead of seeing Vince and Alf on Top of the Pops, all I have in my mind’s eye are visions of Supply Teacher Picket, Spiv Picket, Ted Picket, Sideboards Picket and Nosferatu Picket. None of this is Vince Clarke’s fault, who probably assumed he was agreeing the rights to the song to some jobbing performers who would go on to sell 500 copies of it to people who attended their shows, but the damage was done.
Perhaps the Pickets also heard something in the song that’s always been apparent to me - a distinct touch of Christmas which made it ripe for seasonal manipulation. While the original was released during the late Spring period, it’s always sounded stark and wintery, like Alison Moyet was snowbound, trapped in a bedroom, staring outwards at a crystalline Basildon, lonely this Christmas and wondering where it all went wrong.
She would have opportunities to appear a little less tragic in the very near future.
Trivia
Away From the Number One Spot
Toyah enters at number 17 with “Brave New World”, with a video which proved the director had admired David Bowie’s “Ashes To Ashes” rather too much. Besides that, the song is something of a return to form, playing to her obvious strengths rather than her artpop desires – the chorus has the heft of any of her prime hits and it was unlucky to stop one place short of the national Top 20.
It would ultimately peak at number 4 in the indies.
Dublin oddballs The Virgin Prunes drop in at number 29 with “Pagan Love Song”, a disjointed art-goth effort which also manages to capture a certain club-footed grooviness too. The track would eventually peak at number 17.
Otherwise, the 22nd May was something of a calm period for fresh new entries, with only a re-entry from Carmel bulking out the list at number 30.
Number One in the Official Charts
Nicole - "A Little Peace" (CBS)
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