28b. Yazoo - The Other Side Of Love (Mute)

 

An additional two weeks at number from w/e 18th December 1982

Here we go again, viewers. The Anti-Nowhere League's "For You" only found sufficient stamina to stay atop the indie charts for one week, leaving Yazoo to take back the throne over the Christmas period. 

Here's what was happening lower down the charts in those festive weeks which, lest we forget, also saw us gaining a national independently distributed number one.

Week One

29. Threats - Politicians And Ministers (Rondolet)

Peak position: 29

Rough-as-fuck Scottish punk which sounds as if it has more in common with American hardcore than a lot of their compatriots. "Politicians and Ministers" is relentless, punchy, and points towards a possible direction British punk could have opted for if everyone hadn't been too busy going on about how it wasn't dead. As things stood, however, this was to be their last recorded offering until 2001, at which point they returned to a level of fringe acclaim they didn't really receive in 1982. 

 

30. Laurel & Hardy - You're Nicked (Fashion)

Peak position: 30

The volume of reggae singles referring to police arrests or troubling encounters with The Fuzz in the early eighties tells a story six hundred newspaper headlines never could. The racist element of the police force, particularly in certain branches and areas, was acknowledged enough to make its way into mainstream comedy sketches, and most of the reggae artists belonged to communities where undignified and poorly evidenced arrests were part and parcel of daily life.

"You're Nicked" caused such a stir in 1982 that major labels became interested in the pair, and the follow-up single "Clunk Click" emerged on CBS as a result. That effort was a rather more establishment pleasing pean to the dangers of drink driving and failing to fasten seat belts, which still wasn't quite popular enough to turn them into major stars. Their dippy stage presentation and cheeky charisma remains fondly remembered by many, though. 

Week Two

18. Dead Kennedys - Halloween (Cherry Red)

Peak position: 3

Surprisingly conventional rant from the Kennedys here about the foolishness of Halloween - "Why oh why do we take Halloween so seriously as a piece of organised fun when we're wearing masks all year round?" they philosophise, while Roger Waters presumably nods enthusiastically and takes notes for a possible concept album.

Still, even if you're left with the impression that Jello Biafra probably went to parties with piles of anti-capitalism leaflets under his arm and was a bit of a buzzkill, "Halloween" has such a mean, snarling intent behind it that you're almost tempted to join in. 

Anyway, in 1982 in Britain barely anyone gave a fig about Halloween, so most of us probably had no idea why he was so het up about this topic. Those were the days. That's probably also why this track peaked in the indie charts at the less than seasonally appropriate period of Winter 1983.

23. Toy Dolls - Nelly The Elephant (Volume)

Peak position: 10

Oh mother. If you think this single is making a somewhat early appearance in 1982, you're only half-mistaken. "Nelly" was originally issued during this year and rapidly gathered steam as a cult novelty punk favourite, played on nighttime radio and beloved by those people who thought that children's novelty songs being thrashed around were a unique and funny concept.

Given that we'll eventually get another chance to consider this one in depth, let's hold fire for now and instead marvel at the sights and sounds of those Toy Dolls. 

24. Clint Eastwood & General Saint - Shame & Scandal In The Family (Greensleeves)

Peak position: 24

Family strife set to a bouyant reggae swing here, which in common with many of the breakout reggae tracks of the early eighties favours nods, winks, and a swing and lightness of touch over anger or deep dubbiness. 

Eastwood was a prominent performer during the early part of the decade, but his visibility weakened significantly in the following few years. 

25. Charlie Harper's Urban Dogs - New Barbarians EP (Fallout)

Peak position: 22

Why yes, it is that Charlie Harper (of UK Subs) on an extra-curricular mission. The Urban Dogs were apparently formed when the Subs began to regard certain minor club gigs as being beneath them, conflicting with Harper's desire to perform to small and sweaty audiences in legendary venues. They slowly evolved into a unit with a purpose of their own. 

Imagine early UK Subs only with a bit more of a whiff of sticky Heineken on a pub floor, and you're there. If anything, "New Barbarians" harks back to the prime punk era unapologetically. 

30. The Vibrators - Baby Baby (Anagram)

Peak position: 13

The Vibrators were always punk's slightly less credible also-rans, initially signing to Mickie Most's glitzy RAK label (more commonly the hangout for the likes of Hot Chocolate, Smokie and Mud). "Baby Baby" sees them wearing their old school rock and roll influences freely and unapologetically, like the pub rockers they were always close to being. 

Despite the fact that they were one of the first punk bands to be whisked off to a recording studio, their records seldom entered the national charts, and by the eighties they were firmly ensconced in the indie sector. "Baby Baby" sounds as if it could have been a possible minor hit in 1976, but 1982 shrugged its shoulders and didn't even allow them entry into the Indie Top Ten. 

The full charts can be found at the UKMix Forums

Number One In The Official Charts

Renee and Renato: "Save Your Love" (Hollywood)

This also peaked at number 5 in the indie chart during the same period. Its lower position in the indie charts can doubtless be explained away by the fact its fondest purchasers were more likely to be buying copies in Woolworths rather than Rough Trade and Volume, so we've had a very lucky escape here.

7. Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough (Mute)

 

Number one for two weeks from 26th September 1981

“I can, you will” – Patrick Humphries, Melody Maker

I can’t think of many other groups whose opening shots were such red herrings. With “Photographic”, “Dreaming Of Me” and “New Life”, Depeche Mode had presented themselves as a synth-pop act with sharp melodies, but with cryptic, creepy and occasionally dystopian elements tacked on.

“Photographic” (which appeared on the Some Bizarre sampler LP) was a hushed, pulsing meditation on either criminal espionage or stalking an unfortunate woman – you decide which – whereas “Dreaming Of Me” is a series of filmic, cinematic images which all add up to apparently mean nothing much in particular but sound, like “Photographic”, in love with the idea of the machinery behind the art, the projectionist's filter through which the activity is made possible. We’ve already discussed “New Life” and what the hell might be going on there, but then…

“Just Can’t Get Enough” eschews all this for a boy/girl (or boy/boy or girl/girl if you prefer) love story of almost inane simplicity. And once “Just Can’t Get Enough” happened, neither Depeche Mode or Vince Clarke were ever quite the same again. It was to be Clarke’s last single for them - shortly after it was released he stated that he no longer wanted to suffer the trappings of being in a band; but despite this, he would never return to his word salad of bright lights, dark rooms, rising casts or red shadows, and nor would the remaining band try to emulate it. He would write more straightforward songs about love and interpersonal relationships, occasionally making the odd political statement, whereas the group he left behind eventually found their natural home writing about the big universal subjects – religion, human relationships (romantic and inter-personal) human failings, sex and love (Yes, this is an over-simplification if we're talking about their earlier LPs, and we'll have plenty of opportunities to see how as this blog progresses).

It’s not as if “Just Can’t Get Enough” shot in from the sidelines and turned everyone’s creative practice around. Anyone who has heard their debut album “Speak And Spell” knows that there are even more straightforward songs on offer (“Nodisco” and “What's Your Name” anyone? Let's not link to them, it seems kindest) but in terms of the broader public perception of the band, it may have proved to be a bit of a curse as well as a blessing. While it only reached number eight in the national charts, it remains one of their best known and most played songs to this day, soundtracking adverts, popping up on oldies radio, covered by kids on TikTok and YouTube in a variety of unlikely ways, all of which fail to ever escape the simple joy of the song. If the band weren’t already thought of by some critics as being cute, gleeful teens with candyfloss melodies, they were now.

My wife recently mentioned that in her mind, “Just Can’t Get Enough” and The Beatles “She Loves You” share a similar space, and I get her point. Both are unapologetically effervescent songs about young love. “She Loves You” has a bit more of a narrative to it, and it’s clear that the biggest enthusiast for the individual’s relationship is the singer who is addressing his daft mate (an interesting way of delivering the song’s central message) but the principle remains the same. Both songs are not unduly weighed down by doubt, mixed emotions or past experiences like most love songs are. They’re not ballads either – they’re boppy, excited, rowdy, the thrilling noise of a 15 or 16 year old realising they’re actually wanted and desired by somebody.

The facile lyrical nature of some of Vince Clarke’s later work for Depeche Mode can be painful to listen to at times, but it also partly contributes to the strengths of “Just Can’t Get Enough”. Dave Gahan sounds uncharacteristically chipper throughout, as if he can’t believe his luck and is almost deliriously senseless – “We walk together, we’re walking down the street!” he sings, barely able to believe such a simple act could be possible. Mostly though, the lyrics just repeat the title, chanting it as well as hollering it, until it becomes almost a meta comment on the hooky, addictive nature of the song itself as well as the relationship.

3. Dead Kennedys - Too Drunk To Fuck (Cherry Red)

 

Number One for five weeks from 6th June 1981 - 4th July 1981

It’s hard to imagine from this distance, but cussing and graphic descriptions of sexual activity on records in the early eighties – whether on hit singles or otherwise – was still deemed to be pretty damn controversial. Times have changed and we now live in an era where numerous singles featuring the f-word have scaled high in the national charts, and while it might make for a funny aside at the end of the week’s chart news, it rarely causes uproar.

The eighties are deemed by some to be the beginning of a much more permissive society, but the reality is that 1981 was only a few short years on from “Never Mind The Bollocks”, and the fact that album wasn’t withdrawn from sale didn’t mean that the public gave up and changed their minds about crudity overnight. Tony Harrison’s epic and distinctly non-punk poem “V” was broadcast on Channel 4 in 1987 and caused outrage merely for quoting the work of vandals who had grafittied gravestones in the graveyard where his parents lay. Gratuitous swearing was harder to defend than that, particularly if delivered by young people with loud guitars who probably didn’t have any intellectual aspirations or sensible advice for young people in mind.

Punks knew only too well the power it still had and gravitated towards it. The movement may have been somewhat stale in mainstream terms by 1981, but the eruptions created by The Sex Pistols in particular had left scores of people hungry for further establishment baiting. This single was a huge juicy worm on a hook for that set, causing horror in record stores – the group responded to this by supplying concerned stockists with a sticker over the f-word, reading “Caution: You are the victim of yet another stodgy retailer afraid to warp your mind by revealing the title of this record so peel slowly and see...”

Which potentially makes this a lovely tabloid thunderstrike in a Charles and Di mug, but in retrospect, “Too Drunk To Fuck” feels like one of the least jagged uses of the f-word in pop and rock. If you don’t hear it mentioned often in relation to controversial uses of naughty words, it’s probably because it’s not exactly “Fuck The Police”. In common with a lot of punk and hardcore punk singles of the period, it takes a dire, shitty situation and amps it up for both satirical effect and disgust – “You give me head/ it makes it worse/ take out your fuckin’ retainer/ put it in your purse” growls Jello Biafra over a chugging rhythm.

Radio banned the song – do I even need to write that? - but it nuzzled the lower reaches of the National Top 40 at number 36 regardless, causing panic at the Beeb about whether the Top 30 rundown on “Top of the Pops” would eventually need to mention the unmentionable. In the meantime, Tony Blackburn dodged the issue while delivering the Sunday chart rundown by referring to it as “Too Drunk” by The Kennedys, and a nation’s easily corruptible youth were saved from indecency once again (note – some versions of this story state that Tony Blackburn said ‘the single at number 36 is by a group calling themselves The Dead Kennedys’ before promptly moving on. If anyone actually has a recording of this rundown I’d really like to hear it).

The song became a staple of mixtapes and party tapes for years afterwards. Before I knew a damn thing about The Dead Kennedys friends of mine snuck it on to C90 cassettes as a neat slice of subversion to put between other noisy offerings. The fact it’s never been embraced by oldies or alternative radio means it remains one of those rare examples of a hit single (however minor) you had to buy, or have a friend tape for you, to actually hear in the pre-internet era. I saw it quoted in the Guinness Book of British Hit Singles as a kid and was immediately intrigued, asking my Dad if he knew anything more about it while pointing towards the entry with my index finger. My Dad just spluttered with laughter and said “Probably a punk record. Shouldn’t imagine it was played anywhere”.

I had a long wait to discover what it sounded like, and when I finally heard it on a compilation tape a friend made for me, I was slightly disappointed. The long build-up had been too much and left me as disappointed as Jello Biafra’s sexual partner. So this was it? A demonic chugging riff beneath some lyrics about a limp penis? And what, I suppose, really did I expect? My Saisho music centre to splinter into fragments on impact with it?