What Has Happened To Shaky This Christmas?

It was not exactly often that the journey to and from school got more exciting than it did on those alternate Wednesdays when you had to make sure to leave the house with enough additional time to incorporate a quick trip to the newsagents’ to pick up the latest issue of Smash Hits, but if it ever actually did, then it was on the Wednesday that fell roughly – give or take – a week and a half before Christmas. Not only was the sight of Dannii Minogue effecting to bash out a yuletide story on a typewriter with a pencil behind her ear or Bros singularly failing to acknowledge the gigantic present that they are all carrying in any meaningful sense whatsoever on the front cover proof positive that a whole two weeks off school – and the attendant trip to the newsagents’ a fortnight later at your own convenience – were but a matter of calculable days away, you were also guaranteed a whole seventy two pages of festive fun. A ‘snip’ at 48p!

A new issue of Smash Hits – as you can find many further thoughts about here – was always an occasion worth marking in your calendar, especially if you were an aspiring writer who immersed yourself in the not especially subtle blend of disdain for the artifice of the fame industry and arcane silliness for the sake of it and who it is not an exaggeration to say pretty much hero-worshipped Sylvia Patterson and company, but the penultimate issue of the year was always somehow even more of an event. Provided you were discreet enough on the school bus to avoid it being yanked from your grasp by annoying classmates intent on staging an impromptu debate on whether Terence Trent D’Arby was a swoonsome ‘hunk’ or the general efficacy of Madonna’s latest excuse for a hat whilst waving it around with the sort of grasp that deposited big greasy fingerprints all over Belinda Carlisle’s face on the back cover – or worse still just demanding ‘a look’ despite not having had the wherewithal to secure their own copy – you could quietly flick through a procession of highlights in waiting including seasonally irreverent interviews, Christmas List-anticipating reviews and most thrillingly of all, albeit dependent on the precise publication date, more often than not the results of the annual readers’ poll in the days when it was still an excuse for several dozen pages of wilful disrespectful nonsense instead of an excuse for a televised scream-cheerled dullard-accommodating awards ceremony that can only be described as treating Smash Hits‘ trademark lack of respect with a lack of respect to the extent that even ‘Belouis’ ‘Some’ would have found a warm welcome at it. Highlights that you would get to enjoy at your school-free leisure over the not-quite week before the big day, proving more than adequate compensation for not being able to get your hands on the obsessively hoarded Christmas double issues of Radio Times and TV Times whilst contemplating your one permitted pre-Christmas Quality Street – there were invariably just the Toffee Pennies and Toffee Fingers left by the time they had made their way back to you after you had been ordered to ‘hand them round’ – as the quarter finals of A Song For Christmas trilled away in the background.

Sadly, Smash Hits was never quite the same after a celeb-slanted January 1992 relaunch with the humour sanded down, the gleeful rudeness towards pop stars curtly curtailed and the wordcount dropped dramatically in favour of more quarter-page pictures of some bloke out of The Young Riders – a full four years before Kate Thornton took over and purportedly ‘ruined’ it according to Classic Pop Classics bores who would never let anything as mundane as factual reality get in the way of their tiresome pomposity – but in a bid to recapture some of that lost festive magic, it’s time to take a look through the ‘Bumper Christmas Issue’ of Smash Hits from 13th December 1989; the last issue of the decade that the magazine was made for, and indeed one of the very last Christmas issues before that 1992 relaunch. So with the cover promising Jason Donovan-skewed acknowledgement of late 1989’s most unlikely hit – an opportunistic Simon Mayo-occasioned reissue of Andy Stewart’s 1960 Elvis-baiting ode to letting the wind blow high and the wind blow low Donald Where’s Your Troosers? – and the promise of a chance to win a brilliant computer ‘system’, let’s have a look inside. Swingorilliant!

We’re off to a strong start with the lyrics to Madonna’s then-current hit Dear Jessie, a pastiche sixties psychedelic pop number complete with a Fantasia-inspired video promising an unlikely juxtaposition pink elephants and lemonade for all, and which is entirely coincidentally Madonna’s best single. Yes it is. Stop arguing. Even though it is still not entirely clear exactly which ‘sixties’ Madonna was pastiching, she was not alone in her endearingly inauthentic appropriation of the whole one pill makes you larger musical gambit; Tears For Fears were still hovering around the top forty with Sowing The Seeds Of Love and many others including New Kids On The Block and indeed Jason Donovan would soon follow paisley-patterned suit, although you can find much more about this curious quasi-hallucinogenic phenomenon here. Inevitably, in true Smash Hits style, the lyrics come accompanied by a photo of Madonna entirely unrelated to anything to do with Dear Jessie.

Over the weekend of 2nd and 3rd December 1989, Kylie Minogue, Jason Donovan, Bananarama, Lisa Stansfield, Jimmy Somerville, Marti Pellow, Sonia, Matt and Luke Goss and of course Rockin’ Jeff from The Pasadenas piled in to PWL Studios to record an updated version of Band Aid’s 1984 charity fundraising chart-topper Do They Know It’s Christmas?, produced by none other than Mike Stock, Matt Aitken and Pete Waterman, who whether you like it or not had already been responsible for five separate month-straddling number one singles in 1989 alone. Now widely denounced as an abhorrent insult to the classic pop classicism of the original that was as good as done without anyone’s permission, not least by Bob Geldof himself, this new version featuring the biggest and most likely to shift units pop names of the day was in actuality personally requested by the Love Like A Rocket non-hitmaker in response to ongoing food shortages exacerbated by recent political instability in Ethiopia, so apologies if this interferes with your nice neat narrative about when pop music was best because you said so. In any case, it is emphatically not the ‘worst ever version’ as all of the remounts that have followed it have been unarguably and immeasurably worse, and “yes but it was Stock Aitken Waterman all done on computer RUBBISH and I don’t like that” is neither an opinion or a reason. If you’re still going on, you can find me arguing all of this at considerably more length here. Anyway, the single was already hurtling into the shops as this issue of Smash Hits went to press, and pretty much the whole of the writing team had been there to document events and capture all of the behind-the-scenes gossip about Pete Waterman keeping rabid Brosettes at bottle cap-shoed bay, Lisa Stansfield displaying what we shall generously call an abundance of the spirit of the Second Summer Of Love and Rockin’ Jeff, erm, enjoying some dips.

Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville’s eighty four thousandth juddery-voiced blander than bland duet Don’t Know Much – surprisingly not taken from the soundtrack of An American Tail 483: Fievel Watches Channel 4’s The Corner House for once – was rocketing up the charts as Christmas approached in 1989, and Bitz was keen to make its feelings on the matter clear. Although they oddly neglect to mention the bit where it sounds like Aaron is about to break into a slowed-down rendition of the Wizbit theme, elsewhere we do get to learn that Lambada-toting irritants Kaoma were being sued by an entire country, that Ben Volpierre-Pierrot out of Curiosity Killed The Cat wants a ‘Scalextrix’ for Christmas – it might help facilitate smoother North Pole admin if he managed to spell it correctly – and that Brother Beyond are somewhat ambitiously intending to fill the Liverpool Empire for a no doubt spirited rendition of number thirty nine smash Drive On. Meanwhile, Shakin’ Stevens had mysteriously declined to make his traditional bid for the festive top slot, and Bitz was not about to take this dereliction of duty lying down…

One of Smash Hits‘ major strengths was its resolute refusal to take anyone or anything too seriously, which was not only a refreshing alternative in a world that was already beginning to become overrun with ‘Postermag’-level unquestioning celebrity reverence and face value abettance of hype, but also pretty much the only publication that could be reliably and consistently counted on to provide it; even Number One‘s attempts at having a bit of a chortle at the expense of Matt, Luke and Craig felt a little forced and inconsistent in comparison. This was more than ably demonstrated by their approach to Mr. Umberto Carr’s chartbound charges New Kids On The Block – who in the past couple of weeks had it is fair to say taken the top three by storm – whom they initially appeared to resent having to cover before accepting the inevitable but still taking exceptional surrealist delight in attempting to rename them all ‘Dave’ and casting them in implausible made-up stories about Danny being castigated mid-Yorkshire Moors ramble by a faction of militant Inspiral Carpets fans calling him a ‘big girl’s blouse’. To their credit, Jordan, Jon and company appeared to appreciate this less than reverent treatment in a world that was otherwise either fawning over or ignoring them and regularly professed their love of all matters Smash Hits, even going as far as to adopt some of the running gags as band in-jokes. No such levity would be afforded to Take That only a very short while later.

Oh and cheer up, Marti!

Ms. Sonia Evans doing herself what can best be described as few favours courtesy of a Christmas knowledge-testing interview apparently conducted while she was more interested in whether she would be able to get to the Renshaw Street Uncle Sam’s before it closed. Note also the disinterested plug – if it could legitimately be considered to constitute one – for the disastrous Hits album rebrand as Monster Hits. Only about eighteen months previously Hits had been the only genuine threat to the market dominance of Now That’s What I Call Music – and you can read more about the franchise’s biggest seller, the none-more-1986 collection known as the mighty Hits 5, here – yet now it was reduced to flogging Kaoma, Jive Bunny And The Mastermixers and of course Chocolate Box by Bros with the aid of a sort of sub-Ray Harryhausen henchman in evening wear. Meanwhile The Eve Of The War by Jeff Wayne had bizarrely found its way back into the charts late in 1989, courtesy of a characteristically clunky and scribble-on-library-book-esque ‘woo’-‘yeah’ saturated remix by perpetually uninvited chart-botherer Ben Liebrand. For reasons best known to themselves, Bitz elected to put the boot into the former rather than the latter, despite the relentless seventies-desecrator arguably being in much more pressing need of a quote mark-assisted dressing down. As for Kipper Williams’ ‘Great Moments In Pop’ cartoon… I mean can you even imagine this now? It’s almost like an open dare for ‘cancellation’. On so many levels. Meanwhile Danny Wood apparently wants a subplot from a Douglas Adams Doctor Who script as a Christmas present, Matt Goss wants… to take a dog for a walk, and we’ll be coming back to Electronic and indeed Happy Mondays in due course. Anyone got a lighter?

The past really was a foreign country.

An apparently geographically challenged Jason Donovan drops by to promote his by now comprehensively Band Aid II-stymied Christmas single When You Come Back To Me – which you can find some of my further thoughts on here – and tries his absolute best to politely deflect Sylvia Patterson’s relentless targeted ribtickling subversion of alternately benign and banal festive clichés. He does not quite succeed.

Halo James. The big new band of the nineties, for precisely seven days.

Rounding out a hugely successful 1989, Neneh Cherry cheerfully indulges in a considerably more philosophically inclined chat with Chris Heath, which may not incorporate a story about how she used to throw towels at her brother and pretend he was a towel rail but does touch thoughtfully on the relationship between image and fame and whether it constitutes a theoretical or a literal crime to draw a moustache on top of Burt Reynolds’ actual moustache, as well as denouncing politician granny with her high ideals Margaret Thatcher as both ‘a pig’ and ‘an ignorant, hypocritical, cold-blooded, unsympathetic bitch’. Unfortunately it was an interview in service of Inner City Mama, the struggling fourth single from Raw Like Sushi, so it’s doubtful even Denis noticed.

It’s the Prize Crossword, surprisingly devoid of the traditional ‘A bit of a nut is our Marc (6)’ clue, and this time one lucky winner who – crucially – got their entry in before Christmas Eve was going to find what were purportedly HMV’s Top Ten Music Videos for December 1989 being stuffed through their letterbox in the new year. While the sales appeal of most of the featured titles is both understandable and relatable for once, you really do have to wonder who was buying that Bobby Brown one in such Duran-trouncing quantities, not least considering that one of the videos featured a cameo appearance by a certain whining haystack exiting his gold elevator-festooned ‘Tower’. 13A & 14D was ‘Feel The Earth Move’, incidentally. I don’t think they’ll have any of the videos left now though.

Oh pipe down.

A profile of Sydney Youngblood, seen here revelling in the success of decade-seeing-out smash If Only I Could – a record that fittingly somehow managed to sound like the entire eighties all at once – and who appears to find the idea of wanting to jump off furniture as a child utterly explanation-defying yet seems quite happy to make up a rhyme involving the word ‘lederhosen’ and provide a detailed breakdown of a diet apparently appropriated from that ‘Mr. Christmas’ bloke, adjacent to a hopeful plug for the Bomb The Bass-produced debut for one-time Prince protégé who never quite happened, Cat.

More prize giveaway shenanigans in the form of an opportunity to win a conspicuously non-pop adjacent Atari ST complete with “One Pack of ‘Soft’ware”. I’m not going to lie to you, there’s a part of me that wishes we’d listened to their cynicism.

I’m willing to bet more than a few adolescents of whatever gender or persuasion were of the opinion that Bros ‘spoiled’ this.

Speaking of whom… he’s subsequently been in about seventy four thousand straight to video films – and of course Blade II, which you can find a chat about here – so probably has in one of them, but I’m not watching all of them to check. Or indeed any of them. Meanwhile, the now Craig-free Matt and Luke’s responses to the assorted sub-Scruples moral quandries they are over-wordily presented with are even less interesting still.

We tend to think that Social Media has polluted public discourse but take a look at this! Performative hatred, baffling determination to tell everyone else off, unasked for clarification and unfunny viralz. That’s practically the full house. Maybe that incorrect aspect ratio Murun Buchstansangur masquerading as a ‘techbro’ should have bought a magazine instead. Also, that’s the bit where Kylie’s dressed as that sort of Hollywood starlet in a sort of On The Town pastiche, isn’t it? I don’t think anyone was looking at her eyebrows.

How to show you’ve got no time for a ‘wacky’ ironic novelty hit in style. The juxtaposition really does make it look distinctly like Andy and Vince are searching in earnest for his errant ‘troosers’ though.

Lola Borg reviews the singles and is mostly absolutely bang on. There’s thumbs-up for Dear Jessie, De La Soul, Sydney Youngblood and Neneh Cherry, two fingers for unnecessary cover-totage from Brother Beyond, Jimmy Somerville and dear old Damien and jokes at the expense of Alexander O’Neal, Living In A Box and Sinitta, and even the arguably misplaced snark at Electronic is at least amusing and in fairness more than a little accurate. We could do with a bit more of this attitude right now frankly.

A quick listen through some newly available albums, none of which would probably have been on many Smash Hits readers’ Christmas Lists, and in one case in particular I very much echo these sentiments. You’ll never guess which. Further out on the ‘Ian’ and ‘Ian’-decrying pages are a handful of more esoteric reviews replete with a healthy disdain for the inevitable seasonal deluge of shoddy yet just about acceptability-grazing pop merchandise that would once again all but dissipate within a couple of years. Nobody could quite understand what they were all about or how they caught on but Dancing Flowers were a surprisingly big deal in late 1989, to the extent of being ‘interviewed’ by Terry Wogan with predictably hilarity-averse consequences, although it is a fair bet that most households resisted the temptation to repeat the experiment with, presumably, Pacific 707 and instead put it on top of the television during that Christmas’ big dramatic Ken and Deirdre Barlow showdown with somewhat slightly more amusement-adjacent consequences.

Another video-themed competition, this time essentially giving away all of the raw materials you would need to make a new series of The Movies That Made Us with the pedant-invitingly monickered Blackadder II and Blackadder The Third thrown in for good measure, doubtless inspiring yet another round of playground conjecture that The Black Adder had been ‘wiped’. Enjoying pride of place next to the Mick Dundee and Axel Foley rumination is an advert for a forthcoming attraction that would not exactly find itself joining Romancing The Stone and The Lost Boys in the Everyman Cinema Throwback slot – down-under rock’n’roll rebellion Kylie Gets Her Baps Out shocker The Delinquents, which record-breaking numbers of Tears On My Pillow-humming pop fans flocked to see on its Boxing Day release and then never afforded a single further thought to. Even when Charlie Schlatter showed up in that sitcom where he was friends with a talking bin or something.

He should have said the phone box one was true.

Um…

Even over and above a certain boy band of unequal baseball cap distribution asserting their intention to put you in a trance with their funky song, there is one very clear and unstoppable theme that dominates this issue, and indeed would dominate popular culture into the new year – almost without anyone noticing, Rave culture and Madchester had found their way into the mainstream through sheer will of force and were here to stay. For a bit, anyway. As emphatically tongue-in-cheek as the Bitz pieces on Happy Mondays and Electronic may have been, it is also noticeable that there was no attempt to downplay or ridicule their efforts and it really does appear like everyone at the magazine was just happy to have someone interesting to write about for once. You also do have to ponder how many teenage readers on the verge of starting to want to think for themselves will have experienced an ideological head-turn while reading the Stone Roses interview, possibly without even having heard a note of their music up to their point, which you would have to say was an incredible legacy if it wasn’t for the fact that Ian Brown’s ‘opinions’ just didn’t… stop.

Well well well. If it isn’t the very first stirrings of the all too public love story that within weeks would have ‘Nosey Parker’ claiming to be “particularly bored of this ongoing saga, especially when there isn’t nearly enough amusing Yell! gossip to go round”. Anyway. You’ve got to love that Matt Goss quote though, and as for that Madge and Harold ‘fact’, they were presumably dressed up in their antiquities to promote their decidedly non-chart troubling festive smash Old Fashioned Christmas. If you’ve never heard that, we’ve saved you the bother here. Also, does anyone have Phil Collins’ agent’s address?

Sidestepping the unfortunate mention of you know who – although it is a mention precipitated by Jive Bastard Bunny so it both deserves a good sidestep and serves them fucking right – and concentrating on the oddly analytical Personal File for Father Christmas, isn’t it a shame that magazines just aren’t this… weird these days.

So with New Kids On The Block in a comedy ‘Seasonally Throttling Li’l Joe’ pose, that’s the end of the very last issue of Smash Hits of the entire eighties – yeah alright smartarse, the next one was dated 27th December 1989 to 9th December 1990, which was of course by then very much Time For The Guru – and I hope you’ve enjoyed this look through its now almost belief-beggaringly eccentric contents. If you have, there’s more about just why Smash Hits was so important to me as a writer here in Keep Left, Swipe Right, available in paperback here and from the Kindle Store here. Well come on, you need something to read in front of that Morning Live feature on Christmas Jumpers in lieu of a new issue of Smash Hits.

With thanks to the swizzaway Like Punk Never Happened – Brian McCloskey’s Smash Hits Archive.

Buy A Book!

You can find plenty more on just how important Smash Hits was before that bleegusting 1992 relaunch (groo!) in Keep Left, Swipe Right, available in paperback here or from the Kindle Store here.

Alternately, if you’re just feeling generous, you can buy me a coffee here. To be brought in by Miss Pringle in a Christmas ‘Sweat’er that is most…(SNIIIIIIIP! – Ed).

Further Listening

You probably don’t necessarily want to hear an hour of eighties Christmas records that barely scraped the top forty, but all the same you can do just that in Last Minute Present Dash here.