Pump up the (final) volume!

A few weeks ago, the music writer David Hepworth bemoaned the obsolescence of his impressive collection of rock reference books in the face of the omnipresent Internet. This reminded me of Christmases past when I would invariably receive at least one such book as a gift. And though I do indeed use the Internet to verify much of the chart-related content on my radio shows for Only80s and West Anglian Radio - not to mention my trivia and quiz contributions for Souled Down South - a friend's radio show; I do still make regular use of my trusted copy of the Guinness Book Of British Singles (which in my case had pop history coming to an abrupt end in 1994).

I immediately browsed online to see if I could find a later edition and discovered, to my horror, that the series was discontinued, with the 19th and final edition published in 2006 - ten whole years ago! Copies were available but these were in fair-to-middling condition at best.

So imagine my delight today when, as part of my usual charge around the charity shops when I'm holidaying in various locations around Britain, I not only found 12-inch copies of Jermaine Stewart's 'We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off' and Desireless' 'Voyage Voyage' (1986, UK No. 2 and 1988, UK No. 5, respectively ... I checked), I found a copy of the 19th edition - that sacred text - in sunny Scarborough! It cost me just seven pounds and has made my day.

So here's to history, here's to that bygone age of looking something up in a book as opposed to online!

Space - the vinyl frontier

As publicity stunts go, this is slightly cooler and crazier than most. To celebrate the seventh anniversary of his record label, Third Man Records, White Stripes frontman Jack White launched a specially designed turntable into space, playing a speech on vinyl by late astronomer Carl Sagan - which had been set to music. The working contraption was attached to a weather balloon and reached a height of 28,000 metres before the balloon burst and the turntable came crashing back to earth, landing in a vineyard (but still playing)!

Special adjustments had to be made to ensure that the record would still play outside of the Earth's atmosphere, given that the melting point of vinyl is just 77 degrees celsius. The entire flight, which lasted around 80 minutes, was streamed online. Whether 28,000 metres counts as 'space,' I'm not entirely sure; though I'm fairly certain this is the first instance of a vinyl record playing on a turntable suspended from a balloon! Make of that what you will. Just for the record, the recording played was Carl Sagan's 'A Glorious Dawn'.

Update: Looking after number one

In a short update to my inexplicably popular post published last week on the prospect of Canadian artist Drake beating Bryan Adams' record for the longest stay at the top of the UK singles chart (16 consecutive weeks); I am pleased to report that 'Everything I Do (I Do It For You)' retains the record it has now held for almost 25 years.

Last Friday, when the latest chart was announced, the track 'Cold Water' by Major Lazer, Justin Bieber & MØ was a new entry at number one, with Drake pushed into fifth place!

This development of course leaves music executives and other commentators free to make no changes to the way the charts are compiled. I still haven't heard the Drake track, and I can confidently assert that the new chart-topper will also pass me by. But the quality of any number-one hit is unimportant; what matters is that any weekly number one should be — by any measure — the highest-selling track of that week. Any other approach surely makes a mockery of pop music and cheapens the achievements of all those who hit the top spot before streaming changed everything.

The number-one that got away!

When visiting charity shops, if any vinyl is in stock, I obviously feel compelled to ignore the limitations on space in our humble abode and investigate. On Tuesday, in a shop rarely replete with records, in what appeared to be a very old, personal collection; I unearthed several 78rpm shellac surprises.

I'll buy any UK number-one hit. My 80s collection is complete; I have most 1970s 7-inch chart-toppers and a good number from the 1960s too. Shellac 78s were uncharted territory for me, though. From memory, I can rattle off most number-ones from the 1960s to 1990s in a pop quiz. However, the first decade of the UK singles chart — which officially began in November 1952, with Al Martino's 'Here In My Heart' as the first official number-one — remains rather hazy.

Earlier in the day, I'd mistakenly bought 'Midnight In Moscow' by Kenny Ball And His Jazzmen, convinced that it had been a number-one; it reached No.2 in 1961. Luckily most of these records go for just 50p each. Though each time I buy an also-ran, I tell myself that I won't get fooled again! So having found a very nice-looking 78rpm copy of 'Mary's Boy Child' by Harry Belafonte, I was sure I could come home, check its chart performance and return to the shop to buy it, if necessary. The track had indeed been a UK No.1 in 1957 and — what's more — was the very first record to sell one million copies in the UK. It was worth 99p of anyone's money and I simply had to have it!

When I went back to the shop yesterday, I hadn't bargained for the prospect of another pop-picker purchasing it prior to my return! Yes, I could have grabbed the 7-inch copy of the same track but its condition was poor. So I consoled myself, buying several older, historic hits instead:

Bing Crosby - 'Silent Night, Holy Night' b/w 'Adeste Fideles' (on 7-inch), a No. 8 hit issued in 1952

Slim Whitman - 'Rose Marie' b/w 'We Stood At The Altar', a 1955 No.1 hit which spent 11 weeks at the top, holding the record for the most consecutive weeks at No.1 until it was beaten by Bryan Adams in 1991

George Formby - 'Leaning On A Lamp Post' b/w 'Hi-Tiddly-Hi-Ti Island' (on 10-inch, 78rpm shellac), which pre-dates the arrival of any UK pop charts, as it was issued in 1937

Bing Crosby - 'Pennies From Heaven' b/w 'Let's Call A Heart A Heart' (on 10-inch, 78rpm shellac), was issued even earlier — in 1936

My total spend for the above pieces of heritage pop came to just £3.47. The Harry Belafonte track is the number-one that got away, for now! I won’t now be accumulating an array of ancient records. But certain revered singles do deserve room in my record collection.

Looking after number one

As a pre-Internet teenager in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I obsessively listed all the UK No.1 singles as they hit the top spot. I watched Top Of The Pops every Thursday, followed by the Chart Show on a Saturday morning — before I hot-footed it to Woolies to spend my pocket money on a couple of singles, with enough change to nip to the newsagents for the latest issue of Smash Hits.

All four of the cultural totems above are now sadly extinct. The UK Top 40 singles chart, that once hallowed list of weekly winners bought by the British public, is also on the endangered list. In 1991, when I finished school for the summer holidays, Bryan Adams' behemoth 'Everything I Do (I Do It For You)' was at No.1. And no-one had managed to out-manoeuvre the Groover from Vancouver by the time I returned to school in September and he’d spent 16 weeks at the top.

But that record looks set to be surpassed this summer by fellow Canadian, Drake, with his track 'One Dance' featuring Wizkid and Kyla. I have never heard this track, as I no longer listen to Radio 1 and the track is unavailable on YouTube. Only cover versions appear on that platform. Restricted availability is cited as one reason why the legal streaming required to even listen to the track is strengthening its apparently unassailable position at the top of the chart. This is important, given that sales alone would have seen the track remain there for only the first three weeks of its run — which at the time of writing stands at 15 consecutive weeks. 

Media commentators have recently been wondering whether the charts themselves are broken and what, if anything, can be done. For me, the answer is nothing. Streaming was first incorporated into record sales two years ago, such that every 100 streams now equal one actual sale. This was an attempt to reflect modern practices, given that downloading and then online listening had long-since overtaken physical sales. But at least back in 1991, we could legitimately ask the question: "Who is *still* buying that blessed Bryan Adams track?"

The Internet now makes everything available for nothing or next to nothing. But even if owning music is more important to you than merely streaming a free playlist for your party, clicking on a phone is now easier — and cheaper. Industry bible Music Week has reported the slashing the price of the Drake download from 99p to 59p (to guarantee sufficient weekly sales — aggregated with streams — to stay at No. 1). This is a permissible and timely sales tactic, given the recorded sales figures for the track, provided by Music Week's Alan Jones:

“In its ninth week at number 1, it gained the lowest ever paid-for sales for a number-one single, with just 16,903 downloads. The following week, on its tenth week at the top, it sold even less, with just 13,152 paid-for sales […].”

So what does a No.1 hit now represent? In the highly individualised entertainment era with fewer events around which a critical mass of people coalesces, I think if any of the weekly music programmes of my youth were resurrected; these would soon expose the No. 1 as a relic of a bygone era, an irrelevance. That's progress, pop-pickers!