#uncool two 50

writer George Michael

"It doesn't matter that the speaker misread the relationship. What matters is that we, the audience, can identify with him. And perhaps in that way, we truly learn the meaning of Christmas."

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Written one afternoon in 1984, "Last Christmas" is a simple tale of love, rejection, and regret.

Last year, George met someone. They were looking for sympathy, company, perhaps a no-strings-attached shag. George wanted there to be strings, he thought there was more emotional connection than was reciprocated. And when it came, the rejection really, really stung.

For a year, George has been licking his wounds, building up this brief fling into something bigger than it really was. Hyperbole is his weapon, ideas like "your soul of ice", "you tore me apart" abound in the verses; perhaps "the very next day, you gave it away" is a similar misremembering.

And now, he's not entirely surprised to find his erstwhile paramour doesn't recognise him. George remembers, because it meant something to him; the other partner does not, because it was a one-and-done screw. However much it hurts, George has also moved on, and found someone else more worthy of his "heart".

We have to pause and consider, is there something George wasn't telling us? Note how George never declares any gender for his paramour. Lines like "a man under cover" and "you tore him apart" take on a very different meaning now that we know George was gay, and the heteronormative reading we all assumed in 1984 is almost certainly wrong.

We could interpret "Last Christmas" as a coded argument between gay men, one is prepared to acknowledge their relationship in public, the other is not. Or one wants to settle down, the other wants to screw around. Or one cannot understand why the other remains in the closet.

Whatever the meaning, "Last Christmas" is a festive record through and through. George personally supervised every note, each sleighbell, the production and the vocals - this record is George Michael from conception to wise men. The Life of a Song column noted,

"Shiny round synth baubles bounce up and down the octave as the tune takes tinsel twists around the torn-up vocal. It's a brilliant sonic evocation of how it feels to be isolated from the seasonal cheer, mustering smiles for department cashiers in elf hats before hurrying home to sob into the egg nog."

The Atlantic set the song in its greater cultural milieu:

"Christmas is also one of the few yearly rituals that the bulk of Western society still partakes in. Which means that most everyone has a memory of their Last Christmas, and everyone has aspirations for This Year (when we take measures, in vain, to be Saved From Tears). Wham! is tapping into the holiday’s unique ability to make people take stock and look ahead. "The band is also tapping into the fact that, contrary to the notion of seasonal cheer, many holiday memories are negative—tinted by sadness, loss, or anger, depending on how that year ended for you. It’s probably the bitterest Christmas tune we’ve got, and to say its bitterness keeps it from being a Christmas tune denies the nature of the holiday itself."

George recorded "Last Christmas" by himself, but the video included Andrew and Pepsi and Shirlie, model Kathy Hill, Shirlie's boyfriend Martin Kemp, and some friends. The video was filmed at Saas-Fee in Switzerland just a few weeks before the song was released; that's real November 1984 snow. The director made sure that the wine glasses contained real alcohol, and most of the cast got roaringly drunk.

An instant classic, it sold 840,000 copies by the end of 1984, a further 355,000 in 1985, and trickle-sold each Christmas. Kept off the number one spot in 1984 by Band Aid, eventually becoming the Top of the Pops Christmas number one in 2023.

It's been covered by almost everyone, in almost every style - Last-Christmas.com recognised over 200 cover versions by 2008, Second Hand Songs listed 541 versions earlier this month. George Michael never saw a penny of the royalties; he signed over the composer's rights, and his share of the performance rights, to the Band Aid trust. Spotify only pays a farthing for each stream; those farthings add up and do something good for the world.

"Last Christmas" has become so pervasive that there's an organised attempt to not hear the song during December. Whamageddon originated circa 2008, and has spawned similar efforts to avoid "Fairytale of New York" (qv) and "All I want for Christmas is you". Although I'm too polite to spoil other people's sport, I'm really not a fan of Whamageddon; it smacks of being performatively cool, has faint overtones of homophobia, and surely the point of great music is that one enjoys it. My friend Dan has the right idea: play "Last Christmas" every day during December.

Under the rules of UncoolTwo50, "Last Christmas" is aggregated with its double-A companion "Everything she wants". Having written 800 words on the other side, time does not permit me to discuss this Gramscian deconstruction of the Thatcherite settlement presented through the lens of a relationship.

Written by Kate Bush

“There was a full moon, the curtains were open and it came quite easily.”

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Aged 18, young Kate took inspiration from one of the great Gothic novels, and fashioned a whole performance. It's the most audacious, fearless, quietly feminist art performance - possibly of my lifetime.

Musically, the song has a lot to unpack: harmonic progressions, vocal yelps going here and there, a guitar solo that fades in at the end and dominates everything. And nobody cares for the music theory.

Written in the first weekend of March 1977, Kate found herself channelling the spirit of namesake Catherine Earnshaw, and her forbidden love for Heathcliff. Committed to vinyl over the summer, backed by David Gilmour of Pink Floyd, and passed to Capital Radio in November '77, but a change in the artwork postponed release to January '78. The press got it wrong. "B-O-R-I-N-G", wrote Record Mirror. "Manufactured entirely to be consumed" said the New Musical Express (Incorporating Accordian Times). And nobody cares for the details.

We care for the emotion. Kate had taken lessons from mime artist Lindsay Kemp, she'd been dancing and theatrical since a very young age. She embodies the song, and the song is an extension of her.

Kate did Top of the Pops on 16 February, all flaring hair, sheer black top, red trews, and black stiletto heels. It's behind-the-sofa stuff, Kate is as scary and unnerving as a demented witch. This is "Wuthering Heights"? Blimey.

And the rest is history. Top-selling single two weeks later, and Kate had a level of superstardom we'd later associate with Duran Duran, Take That, or Little Mix. Unlike those others, Kate had the agency to take her career her own way: didn't tour after 1979, took long breaks to hone later albums. More in a future entry…

Written by Stock, Aitken, Waterman

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

An obscure Northern Soul song, performed by an aspiring singer-songwriter from Newton-le-Willows near Manchester.

Very little is remembered about this singer, it is suggested that he was "a bit of a muso", and that he went into the studio to "improve my songwriting and my singing".

The tune is pleasantly insistent, though instantly dated to the late eighties. An insistent tinny drum beat kicks in, followed by a cheap keyboard line. Lyrically, it's interesting, the chorus triumphantly declaims a number of things Rick won't do for his paramour, perhaps this inspired a later work by Steinmann and Loaf.

The vocals are the best part of the song, Rick delivers a top-notch soul vocal - quite remarkable for someone of just 21 years. Seriously, give this song a listen, the lad has got remarkable pipes.

Sadly, Rick's time in the pop world was desperately short, and these days almost nobody remembers his one minor hit. It's certainly never used by lazy columnists trying to make their career advice somehow relevant.

Writers: John Linnell & John Flansburgh

"Little more than exceptionally innovative busking" - Melody Maker

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

"John Flansburgh then asked the audience to rise for the They Might Be Giants anthem."

"Around the time we were starting, a lot of American bands went to England, made a huge splash there, and rode the wave back across the Atlantic. We thought we'd do that too - but it didn't happen." - John Linnell.

"Flood is a tour de force of charm, ideas, and - above all - brevity." - Snouds

"The song's narrator is a blue nightlight, but he's shaped like a canary, so he compares himself to a proverbial bee in the bonnet. Then his luminescence leads him to a comparison with a painting of a lighthouse, which reminds him of the myth of Jason and the Argonauts. Along the way, the lyrics hyperlink to midcentury wristwatches and congressional procedural maneuvers, while the music pays tribute to the Lovin' Spoonful's "Summer in the city". (A choice, John Linnell notes, that "corny as it sounds", was inspired by the brutal heat of the summer of 1989 when they were recording the album). The song is barely three minutes long, but it changes keys 18 times. And let’s not even try to make sense of the video." - Stale

"The thing is, there are so many syllables in the songs that we have to come up with something to fill the spaces. So it ends up being kind of Gilbert and Sullivany." - John Linnell again.

Traditional, arranged Capercaillie

Or, how to give Bruno Brookes a nightmare.

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Pop music was at a low ebb in 1992. Demographics meant there weren't many teenagers around, and we were fracturing into a zillion tribes - the grebos, the crusties, the goths, the celts.

Music from the Celtic fringes had always had a place, usually mid-evenings on Radio 2, jostling for space on the Folk Show. Enya had shown that it was possible to take Celtic music from Ireland, add some New Age sparkle, and turn it into a very attractive commercial proposition. Runrig had had decent success for Celtic rock from Scotland.

Capercaillie were the stereotype fiddle-and-dram band, updated for the nineties with electric guitar and judicious use of synthesisers. Karen Matheson is the lead singer and focal point, Donald Shaw the other songwriter.

"Coisich a' ruin" is the oldest song in this list, first recorded in the late 1500s. It's also the first of three songs not in English.

When released on "The prince among islands" ep, a slow sales week and very careful targeting of the Gallup cells allowed them to get into the GB-wide top 40 and earn plays on Radio 1. Which is a remarkable achievement: a song even older than Fluff Freeman on the chart show!

writers Rose McDowall, Jill Bryson

12 points (DOUZE POINT!)

Like sixteen swans taking flight at once!

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Jill: "We get different categories of letter. Ones like 'we think you're a really great pop group', ones from people struggling in other groups saying 'can we support you' and really long, dead sincere letters. I like the long sincere ones the best."

Strawberry Switchblade met at Glasgow School of Art; originally a four-piece, they slimmed down to Rose and Jill. The group was named after a fanzine written by Orange Juice that never came out; it took its name from a James Kirk song.

They hung out on the fringes of the Postcard Records scene, and were particularly close to Edwyn Collins and his group Orange Juice. Supported them on a tour in late 1982, and seemed to be on the gentle nursery slopes, the fringes of fame without ever breaking through to the public consciousness.

Strawberry Switchblade are deceptively strong and marvellously strange. The knowledge that Rose used to be in a group called the Poems who once made a single financed, at least partly, by shoplifting tends to imbue her current endeavours with a somewhat sterner significance. Their songs are sometimes cute, sometimes irksome, sometimes fun, sometimes twee. If I was 10 they'd be on my wall. -- Mick Sinclair, Zig Zag

"Since yesterday" started life as "Dance", changing almost the entire lyric over three years before being released to the world in late 1984. Its minor-key horn riff comes from Sibelius's fifth symphony - the third movement has a recurring motif inspired by swan calls. Perhaps that's what proved key to their success - here's something vaguely familiar, being re-interpreted and literally shattered before our ears.

despite the ribbons and bows falling from their curls, the sentiments that Rose McDowall and Jill Bryson project through their songs are often as pretty as Lou Reed's sugar-coated 'Heroin'. For these two girls, Scots by birth, populist and perverse by and large, are not in the business of soft selling sweet Pop. After all, the twist in the name Strawberry Switchblade could hardly be anything but intentional. -- Adrian Devoy, International Musician and Recording World

"Since yesterday" became an unlikely, unexpected, and wholly welcome hit in early 1985. It opened doors for Rose and Jill to rub shoulders with some of the biggest names in pop...

Until he accepts his second award - after which he leaves - Prince and his two bodyguards sit at the same table as Strawberry Switchblade. "What did you talk to me about?" I ask them. "We were struck dumb," confesses Jill. Apparently there was no conversation whatsoever. -- Neil Tennant, Smash Hits

...but it proved to be the one and only hit. A number of other singles from Strawberry Switchblade fell short of the top 40, and the group broke up a little later.

They'd made an impression.

ROSE AND JILL of Strawberry Switchblade may look like Macbeth's weird witches but sisters they aren't. "We actually think we dress quite differently," complains Jill, "but other people still get the wrong name in the third meeting!" Rose remembers having a polka dot dress when she was wee and claims that, "everyone wears polka dots when they're six months old." Once the girls had polka dots everything just evolved. "If you get the idea, everything just seems to sprout from it…" Everything includes all kinds of accessories, from earrings that look like chandeliers to ribbons that are almost floor-length. Strawberry Switchblade have fertile heads like overgrown gardens and hair like Egyptian haystacks. Witches always invent themselves. Why else would the church have burned them but for their independence and knowledge of nature? After punk, Rose and Jill formed a group and began to learn guitar (not necessarily in that order). Their inspiration came from the softer songs of the Velvet Underground. As followers of Orange Juice, Aztec Camera and the rest will know, everyone in Glasgow has the Velvets "Banana" album on the coffee table. Next year we'll be hearing a lot of Strawberry Switchblade's quietly haunting songs, folk ballads on the eerie side of twee. Meanwhile the girls are concerned to convey the right impression. "People expect us to sound punky because of the make-up so we try to smile a lot to reassure them: we're lovely people, really. The people who hear our music tend to describe it as 'lovely or nice or beautiful' rather than 'great'. Everybody can be great — not everybody can be lovely. Our main problem is the ribbons falling on to the guitar strings while we're playing. We need a ribbon roadie and someone who'll iron our clothes before we go onstage. Oh, and someone to tune the guitars…" -- Mark Cooper, Record Mirror

Some would argue that Strawberry Switchblade still influence fashion. They brought a certain style, sweet polka dots and malevolent attitude, and it clicked with the people of Japan. Did Rose and Jill spark off the enduring "Gothic Lolita" scene? Certainly they're well-remembered and well-loved - I haven't had to go deep into The Internet Archive to find Strawberry Switchblade.net, servicing fans since 2005.

Life has inflection points. They were on the cover of Smash Hits magazine. Inside was a gripping feature on Band Aid, and some serious writing about trivial subjects. Writers like Sylvia Patterson, Mark Ellen, Linda Duff, Dave Rimmer, and the masterful work of Tom Hibbert. Their mixture of breezy chat and intense knowledge is something I try to replicate - in the Week, and in this collection of essays.

Pop music changes lives. Random chance changes lives. I wouldn’t be the same person without a chain of events kicked off by “Since yesterday”, and that’s why it gets the lot - token, teatowel, and my DOUZE POINTS.

writers Shabazy, Rabbi Shalom-Shabazi

When I first plotted out the #UncoolTwo50 bonuses, I was reasonably certain of four of them - the three yet to come, and "Like a prayer". The fifth spot was open. While testing the tunes, I found "Like a prayer" had lost magic, and "Buffalo stance" had more meaning. And that "Im nin'alu" was an under-rated classic that seems to have eluded other commentators.

ELF POINTS - 11 points

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Ofra Haza was born on 19 November 1957 in Tel Aviv's poor Hatikva Quarter. At the age of 12 she joined a local theatre group where she excelled at acting and singing; she was eventually signed by manager Bezalel Aloni. One of Israel's most popular singers, Ofra had a voice of flawless tone, able to move through many styles; she was regularly described as "The Madonna of the East".

Her second album, Yemenite Songs (later released as Fifty Gates of Wisdom), was a thank you to her family - it's an album of devotional poems and secular street songs passed down from her Yemeni ancestors. Wally Brill, a producer who would later work with Ofra, explained what the album meant: "There has always been a sort of chav culture in Israel. The notion of Ofra becoming this poster girl of world music was surreal. It's on a par with Cheryl Cole deciding that her next album will comprise of Northumbrian fishing shanties."

"Im nin'alu" began as a Hebrew poem written in the 17th-century by Rabbi Shalom Shabazi. The opening line, "Im nin'alu daltei n'divim daltei marom lo nin'alu" translates as "Even if the gates of the rich are closed, the gates of heaven will never be closed". Originally released in Israel on Fled Anita in January '85, the single started to pick up airplay in Europe towards the middle of 1987. Grant Goddard from the Israeli station Kol Hashalom (The Voice Of Peace) started writing letters of recommendation to DJs all over Europe. "I played it heavily in 1985;" says Goddard, "and I was convinced it could have wider appeal."

John Peel played Ofra's later single "Galbi", and delved into her catalogue. Slowly the rest of Europe started tuning into the Haza phenomenon. Several sections of Haza's music were sampled onto other popular house and hip-hop recordings, not least Eric B & Rakim's "Paid in full" and M|A|R|R|S's "Pump up the volume". "Im nin'alu" became the first song primarily in Yemenite to hit the top twenty here.

The combination of traditional Yemeni instruments and Western disco, topped with some very effective scratching, was highly innovative for any recording. Album Shaday has some spectacular reworkings of these traditional folk tunes, married with contemporary-for-1988 dance beats; it's also got some bland pop, so be prepared to skip.

Ofra Haza took part in the Eurovision Song Contest four times, finishing second in 1983. She'd voice Yocheved, the mother of Moses, in 1998 film The Prince of Egypt, and sung the film's big song "Deliver us". It would turn out to be her last big release; Ofra Haza dies of AIDS-related illnesses in February 2000.

The song is just so very different, it's a complete culture shock when it turns up on Top of the Pops, nestled between Debbie Gibson and Scritti Politti. For three minutes, we're taken out of our "May half-term starts tomorrow" reverie, and taken into a world of exotic promise, unfamiliar and somehow we know we'll be safe.

writers Madonna and Pat Leonard

"As close to art as pop music gets" - Rolling Stone

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

Reputations can go down as well as up. Madonna had been the hottest thing in pop during the mid-1980s, smashes like "Into the groove" and "Papa don't preach" had been inescapable. Then she'd run into a bad crowd - married Sean Penn, made the not-very-good movie Who's that girl?, taken up running with a cougar, and dropped out of the media megastar limelight to appear in the Broadway play Speed-the-plow.

So, after an unusually long silence, we had high hopes for "Like a prayer". Madge did not disappoint.

"She's coming back with not just a good Madonna song, but with this totally over the top masterpiece. It's like she's stepped back in time to her "Like a virgin" disco days, pulled out a thumping great dance beat, mixed together all these ideas about religion and lurve in a most Prince-like fashion, and thrown in the massed ranks of a gospel choir to boot. Madonna returns triumphantly. Gasp in amazement." - Smash Hits

"Like a prayer" begins and ends with squealing guitar riffs, moves through basic pop-dance, to a gospel choir finale. Five-and-a-half minutes is long for a single, even in 1989, but it's difficult to say where any flab might lie.

It's the turning point in Madonna's career. She's no longer a bubblegum pop star who sings about falling for boys ("True blue"), breaking up bad relationships ("Causing a commotion"), and occasional balladry ("Live to tell"). No, here we have the proof that Madonna is constantly reinventing herself, striving to push the edge of art. We may have come into 1989 with doubts that Madonna was a great; "Like a prayer" proved she was.

Madonna's prepared to tackle the big burning questions of the late 1980s. Like, racism, and the Catholic church, and family relationships, and growing up. But mostly the Catholic church. "The theme of Catholicism runs rampant. It's me struggling with the mystery and the magic that surrounds it. My own Catholicism is in constant upheaval," Madonna said.

Madonna is causing a commotion. The video for her new single "Like a prayer" has been banned by RAI, apparently it's blasphemous against their local version of Christianity.

Ah, the video. Madonna plays the role of a young woman in the throes of religious ecstacy, kissing a Black man who may or may not be Jesus, giving herself stigmata, bailing him out of jail, there are burning crosses on a hillside, and it's all very confusing. Especially if you're only watching Top of the Pops, where they made a 110-second compilation of clips from near the end of the video, and showed them out of order.

People who did see the video saw something that offended them, and they were not shy in voicing their displeasure. The furore caused the Pepsi corporation to cancel their advert with Madonna, as if there's something wrong with the little girl watching her older self dancing in the middle of a city street.

Anyway, Madonna came out of it richer by about $5 million, her image was burnished as someone feisty and in control of herself, and the Pepsi company looked like cowards. Later in the year, she'd begin her Blonde Ambition tour, then came more music, movies, children, though the next husband is after the year 2000. Madonna continued to make essential music into the new century: we may argue when she stopped being relevant, but everyone agrees she'd jumped the shark by her atrocious interval act at the 2019 Eurovision Song Contest.