47. Sandie Shaw - Hand In Glove (Rough Trade)

 

One week at number one on w/e 28th April 1984

Arthur Crabtree: Hey. I say, is that that bird?

Billy Fisher: What bird?

Arthur Crabtree: There. Getting a lift in that lorry. That bird that wanted you to go to France with her.

Billy Fisher: Do you mean Liz?

Arthur Crabtree: Yes, where's she been this time, then?

Billy Fisher: I don't know. She goes where she feels like. She's crazy. She just enjoys herself.

Billy Liar.

There’s an idealistic, euphoric vision of the sixties I carry around with me in my head (having never lived through it myself) which clashes with the lived reality of others – my parents, for example. My Dad once told me that for him the sixties didn’t result in any real change. He still had the same job and the same lifestyle, and his only minor brush with the era’s glamour was when a friendly post-fame Peter Sarstedt mistakenly walked into the wrong South London boozer. Carnaby Street styles and fame tended not to reach Peckham. They disintegrated on impact with the South Circular Road.

Then there’s the vision I have of the famous people who littered the era, some of which is probably highly accurate (I’ve devoured enough Beatles biographies to at least have a fair idea of what went on) some driven by fantasy. Sandie Shaw, for example. She was fascinating to me because she was from Dagenham, a mere few miles from where I grew up, and my best friend’s mother was mates with her as a child, a fact she always revealed very cautiously and defensively. Of all the famous female British singers in the sixties, Sandie seemed the most local and the most relatable, but also the most flexible and shapeshifting. Who was she? Seemingly, whatever I wanted her to be.

In early promotional photographs, she looks as if she’s won the football pools and is posing for a Littlewoods advertising campaign. She’s pretty and breezy, all delighted smiles, light eyes and freckles. This fits the narrative. She was a Ford factory worker at the Dagenham plant who won second prize in a local talent contest, earning her a slot at a charity event in London where she was spotted by Adam Faith. He put in a word for her with his manager, and as such, Shaw is an early example of the “working class girl unexpectedly lands showbiz opportunity” sixties fairytale. There would be more of those (and then eventually, as the decades drifted forward, less again).

Earning numerous massive hits, including two number ones, her image moved gracefully forward with the sixties. Almost in sympathy with her aspirations (or her manager’s) to be a pan-European star, she recorded hit singles in French, German, Spanish and Italian, and slowly the image changed to that of a glamorous professional, a Saturday teatime ratings puller, a cosmopolitan singer who could be either playful, insouciant or sophisticated when the song or occasion demanded it.

Perhaps inevitably, her continental appeal led to her representing Britain in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1967, resulting in a song she never liked (“Puppet On A String”) being voted as the public’s choice for her to perform. She won, but blamed the subsequent steady decline of her career on the kitsch, tacky image the tune and event gave her (though she was quite happy to sell anniversary souvenir whisky glasses of the victory not long ago, one of which I bought and still happily drink from). “Puppet” is an oompah heavy, knees-up piece of simple pub-friendly, tankards aloft pop dropped into an era of colour and experimentation, closer to The Scaffold than "Strawberry Fields Forever". It worked perfectly in the context of Eurovision and was extremely popular with the British public, who gave her a third number one, but in terms of fashion and the onward movement of popular culture in the late sixties, it couldn’t have seemed more dated; a bubbly bit of Parnes-era pop parachuted into the wrong end of the decade.

Whether it directly caused the decline of her career is a point I’d probably contest. The last few singles leading up to “Puppet” were comparatively weak sellers (the one prior to it, “I Don’t Need Anything”, only just charted at number 50) and I’d actually argue the Eurovision win relaunched her in the UK for a brief period as showbiz royalty, our Queen of Light Entertainment. Despite the temporary lift it gave her, though, it sat awkwardly with who she truly wanted to be, which was pushing the boundaries of pop along with many of her fellow stars.

An album was released in 1969, “Reviewing The Situation”, where she attempted to reposition herself as a progressive artist and correct the public’s view. It’s damn good, and could have been her “Surf’s Up”, but sold naff-all. From that point forward, she would score no further hit singles, living out her showbiz life through occasional appearances on light entertainment shows, performing old standards and even music hall ditties with a slight glimmer of reluctance in her eyes. She attempted to retrain as an actress – something you can easily imagine her succeeding at – but her husband Jeff Banks’ bankruptcy forced her back towards familiar territory to keep the household finances afloat.

The eighties started to be gentler to her. Martyn Ware and Ian Marsh of Human League/ Heaven 17 produced her version of “Anyone Who Had A Heart” in 1982 which failed to chart, but brought her back into the public eye as a credible artist. A none-more-eighties electro-Buddhist single “Wish I Was” followed, and in the background, long-term fans Morrissey and Marr were desperate to earn her attention and get her to cover one of their songs.

There was reluctance on Shaw’s part initially, who seemed untrusting of the group’s slightly unusual angle on the world. This was exacerbated by the tabloid outrage caused by the song “Suffer Little Children” about the Moors Murderers, which nearly caused her to completely withdraw from any associations with them. Eventually, however, she was talked around to the idea of recording with them, and this cover of The Smiths underperforming debut single “Hand In Glove” is the end result.

The first thing that strikes you is how effortlessly Shaw has shapeshifted yet again. The Smiths lyrics weren’t typical of the eighties or any era before them, but she adapts, instantly understanding what to do with her vocals and how to both gel with the strange angles around her and also project her own personality on to them. She barks defiantly, almost in block capitals, “The good life is out there somewhere!” She copies Morrissey’s hollers and howls, but with confidence rather than despair – they seem to suggest “This is who I am” as opposed to “Oh God, so this is who I am”.

The Smiths original version of “Hand In Glove” seemed to emphasise the final lines, the pessimism of “I’ll probably never see you again” over the optimism and exhilaration that preceded them. In Shaw’s hands, that cry becomes loud, accepting yet stubborn - the voice of life experience accepting that sometimes the possibility of love is just a passing moment, versus the youthful over-investment in the giant "Everything" of its promise. Sometimes age and its accompanying wisdom is exactly what a song needs to shift its focus.

This mix of the song is more confident than the original Smiths version as well, which suffered with a certain spindly indieness. Here it’s able to stand firm and steady, Marr’s guitar work upfront rather than lying semi-buried in a prickly salad of lo-fi noise. I don’t listen to the original much. I play this instead. It’s glorious.

Whatever both party’s intentions behind the collaboration was – and I actually doubt it was naked ambition on The Smiths side at least, as they had the most to lose – both benefited. Sandie Shaw finally inched back into the Top 40 again and could begin to be perceived as a forward-thinking artist rather than a dinner club or Pebble Mill at One performer, even getting coverage in pop magazines like Smash Hits and Number One. The Smiths, in turn, began to slowly be seen as part of a lineage of traditional, classic pop as opposed to a slightly odd student band beloved of the inky press.

Despite the fact that her eventual Rough Trade album “Hello Angel” (which we’ll touch upon again in some tangential way) leaned heavily on songwriting contributions from the likes of Morrissey, Clive Langer and Jesus & Mary Chain, it only really excelled when she was back with her old songwriting partner Chris Andrews. The opening track “Nothing Less Than Brilliant” is one of the most life-affirming indiepop songs of the era, but seldom gets compiled or filed away on Spotify playlists as such.




It’s possible to look back now and see her eighties relaunch as being a very early and low budget example of repositioning and remarketing an artist to both a new generation and her old fans; we will see more of this as the years progress, not always with very striking results. “Hand In Glove”, though, is one of the finest examples out there of an artist showing understanding and adaptability with fresh sounds and material, and Shaw’s “Top of the Pops” performance for it remains one of my all-time favourite appearances, a very obvious victory for both sixties pop and alternative rock simultaneously.




Certainly, she managed to reach my teenage self. As odd as it sounds, I believed in Sandie Shaw before I fell back in love with The Beach Boys, The Kinks, The Who, Dusty Springfield or Pink Floyd, or anyone else I regarded to be “Mum and Dad music”. It probably helped that my parents didn’t own any of her records, but something else was afoot too – the sense that Shaw wasn’t out of time and place and somehow understood us. My Mum’s response to her “Top Of The Pops” appearance was direct and unequivocal, and in contrast with my own: “Well, good luck to her, but I don’t think much of that”.

New Entries Elsewhere In The Chart

7. Red Guitars – Good Technology (Self Drive)

Peak position: 4

Not really a new entry, but a re-issue and re-entry of the 1983 single which sold 60,000 copies across both years without once ever coming close to the Top 40.

It deserved far better than to be left languishing as a slow burner. “Good Technology” is an early example of an indie anthem, albeit one with stature and political purpose.

The group reformed a couple of years ago and are hopefully taking this out to a new audience of curious listeners. It’s unlikely it will become a belated hit through exposure on an advert for kitchen appliances any time soon, but if nothing else, we can but hope it continues to slowly pick up some kind of momentum.




15. Play Dead - Break (Clay)

Peak position: 15

When second generation punk and post-punk collide, this is the result – and fuck me it’s powerful. “Break” was the first single by the Oxford group to get into the NME Indie Top 30, but presents a mood which can only be described as cornered but ferocious. The track jangles just as much as it distorts and roars, and is a mine of fascinating contradictions; if only all eighties punk could have been this innovative.




19. Gene Loves Jezebel - Influenza (Situation 2)

Peak position: 12

Atmospheric, minimal strum and drum goth-pop which is closer to Sailor’s album track “Jacaranda” than much going on in 1984 (for what it’s worth, I like Sailor, though I doubt Gene Loves Jezebel would take the comparison as a compliment).

Unlike “Jacaranda” this has the necessary strangulated vocals to appeal to the sullen kids on the benches outside HMV on the High Street, though, even if there are virtually no concessions to commerciality from the group this time around.




22. Leitmotiv - Silent Run (Pax)

Peak position: 22


26. Rubella Ballet - 42f (Jungle)

Peak position: 14


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Number One In The Official Charts

Lionel Richie: "Hello" (Motown)