If I was being crass (never!) I’d say this was a dance record – steady beat, cycling melody, simple repeated lyrical hook. And it is a dance record: a lazy, slow, respectable sort of dance record. The entry of the organ at 1’30&#822[…]

Frankie’s version brushes David Whitfield’s aside with embarrassing ease. More than just a difference in technique, there’s an immense gap in class between the two men, with Laine’s third No.1 of the year again taking a differ[…]

Do you remember those rubber face puppets you could buy whereby you would put your fingers in and then make the face contort into all sorts of gurning shapes? David Whitfield’s singing is like that. I can barely think of anyone whose mannerisms[…]

The horns equal MAN ON THE PROWL thing gets further reinforced as Frankie Laine follows up a mega-hit by throwing everything he can at “Hey Joe” – brass all over the shop, a guitar solo (again!) (a much better one than Guy Mitchell&[…]

Guy goes goggle-eyed over some broad (the swaggering horns seem to demand she’s called a broad) and when he thinks he’s got your tongue wagging in time he hits you with the punchline – he’s screwing her already! You dog, Guy! […]

Something that hardcore nostalgists occasionally lament is the disappearance of instrumentals from the pop charts. They have a point, in that it’s very rare for a bad instrumental to be remotely as bad as a bad song. To be honest though even am[…]

I’m genuinely pleased that Eddie Fisher got a second big hit, especially as it establishes the winning notion that if you’ve had one smash your second should be as like it as legally possible. ‘Outside Of Heaven’ saw Eddie sta[…]

This was No.1 for some stupefying number of weeks – every time a record knocked Frankie off the top he would climb back up and give the hapless contender a battering. I got the impression it was considered some kind of statistical freak for a l[…]

You have to wonder whether without the invention of the charts (and the creation of a market that might care about them) British pop wouldn’t have cycled round a selection of stock ditties forever, rocking contentedly between slop and whimsy. A[…]

Pretty much all the interest here is in the instrumentation, the now-expected orchestration replaced by a fragile electric organ and a break played on what might be a cracked cornet. The production makes for an effective bit of slush, which as a bare[…]