If you want an illustration of how much closer together the pop world of the 1960s seems compared to today’s, consider this sequence of events:
1. Teenage girl wins reality TV talent show.
2. Member of most famous and respected band in the coun[…]

There’s a little to admire about “Hey Jude” but almost nothing to love. For a start, it’s far too long: the most obvious of criticisms, yes, but the last two or so minutes of the coda are pure baggage, the sound of a band impo[…]

 
In a curious way this song feels ahead of its time, anticipating a strain of 1970s pop – “Seasons In The Sun”, “Billy Don’t Be A Hero” – that slathered tracks with melody and melodrama. At its best the sty[…]

 
A bittersweet record, intentionally and otherwise.
The sixties may not be my favourite decade for pop music – hardly surprising since I didn’t live them – but that doesn’t mean I’m not impressed by the pace of their chang[…]

The first time I heard this – age 14 or so – I thought it was hilarious. My friend and I kept playing the opening seconds again and again. “I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE AND I BRING YOU -” brought up on massive 80s productions we e[…]

There’s more screamin’ and hollerin’ on “Mony Mony” than on any Number 1 of the last several years, to the point where Tommy James sounds really quite ill – separate “you…make me..feel…so..good…so good�[…]

The ever-smiling Des takes the Engelbert path, singing a sad song with an easy sweetness, drawing any sting it might have had, and reaching a bumper audience in the process. Thankfully O’Connor is much less bravura than Humperdinck, and his arr[…]

Towards the end of “Baby Come Back” the Equals start making “ch! ch! ch! ch!” noises in the background: it’s a nod to the way several ska tracks use the same sounds to add final momentum to a track, the ska train leaving[…]

There are vowelsounds here undreamed-of in prior pop: “hurricaayuhn”, “hahhhihg”, “doooouuwn”, the way Jagger gulps three times at “drowned”, more desperate each one. “Jumpin’ Jack Flash&#82[…]

Girls ‘turning out to be’ underage was doubtless a very real concern for your gigging rock star of the 60s and 70s, though I suspect a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy would be closer to the truth than Gary Puckett’s horrifie[…]