HAIRCUT ONE HUNDRED – LOVE PLUS ONE

Publicada: gener de 1982

Llistes: Regne Unit: #3 | EUA: #37

“Love Plus One” va ser la segona publicació de Haircut One Hundred, el sextet amb jaqueta de punt que ja havia cridat l’atenció amb l’encant nerviós de “Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)”. Però aquesta vegada van tocar la tecla d’or: “Love Plus One” va pujar fins al número 3 a les llistes del Regne Unit, convertint-se en el seu èxit més gran al país i en l’únic èxit dins del Top 40 als Estats Units.

Guiats pel querubínic Nick Heyward, Haircut One Hundred ocupaven un racó peculiar i entranyable del pop de principis dels anys vuitanta — una mena de “funk preppy” que barrejaven guitarres àgils amb esquitxos de percussió i vents que sonaven com si haguessin estat importats directament del Carib. Les seves cançons rarament tenien sentit líric, però no els calia. Les paraules de Heyward — “Ring, ring, ring, ring / When I call love / Love plus one” — tenien més a veure amb el so i el ritme que no pas amb la narrativa. S’assemblaven a les converses sentides d’un jove enamorat, reunint emocions en un disbarat enganxós. Era, com va dir un crític, “la poesia d’un noi educat que acaba de descobrir el romanticisme però que encara no sap ben bé què fer-ne.”

La textura irresistible de la cançó es deu molt al productor Bob Sargeant, ja admirat pel seu treball amb The Beat. Sargeant va animar la banda a inclinar-se cap al ritme i l’espai, superposant marimbes, bongos i timbales d’acer al costat del saxòfon soprano de Phil Smith. El resultat va ser un groove alegre, amb tocs tropicals, que d’alguna manera aconseguia sonar alhora sofisticat i innocent — un tast primerenc del que més tard es coneixeria com a “jazz-pop”. Heyward recordaria més tard: “Pots sentir-ho tot a ‘Love Plus One’, però és contundent. Bob Sargeant era el nostre George Martin — va donar sentit al caos i el va convertir en una cosa bonica.”

Si “Love Plus One” tenia un arma secreta, era el seu videoclip, dirigit pel sempre visionari David Mallet, que havia treballat amb David Bowie i Queen. L’MTV acabava de llançar-se uns mesos abans als Estats Units, i la cadena tenia desesperadament gana d’importacions britàniques visualment atractives. Mallet va oferir espectacle: una fantasia tropical plena de palmeres, tapalls, i perill trapella, on Nick Heyward es balancejava amb cordes com un Tarzan juvenil entre donzelles de l’illa i salvatges còmics. Era escapisme pur, i s’emetia sense parar a l’MTV — on la imatge neta de la banda i el seu romanticisme suau destacaven al costat de la vora més dura del rock americà.

El grup va fer gira pels Estats Units gràcies al single, però l’impuls no va durar. Quan el seu primer èxit al Regne Unit, “Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl),” va ser reeditat a l’altra banda de l’Atlàntic, va quedar-se al número 101 — potser massa peculiar, massa britànic, o simplement massa ple de jerseis de punt per a un públic americà que desitjava drama neó. Tot i així, al Regne Unit, Haircut One Hundred estaven en plena forma. Van seguir “Love Plus One” amb dos senzills més dins del Top 10 — “Fantastic Day” i “Nobody’s Fool” — abans que Heyward abandonés de sobte el grup, incòmode amb la fama i amb ganes d’evolucionar. Haircut One Hundred potser es van apagar ràpidament, però durant una breu i gloriosa temporada del 1982, van regalar al pop el seu somriure més contagiós.

HAIRCUT ONE HUNDRED - LOVE PLUS ONE

Released: January 1982

Charts:  UK: #3  US: #37 

“Love Plus One” was the second release from Haircut One Hundred, the cardigan-clad sextet who had already turned heads with the jittery charm of “Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl).” But this time, they struck gold: “Love Plus One” rose to No. 3 on the UK charts, becoming the band’s biggest hit at home and their only Top 40 success in the United States.

Led by the cherubic Nick Heyward, Haircut One Hundred occupied a peculiar and endearing corner of early-’80s pop — a kind of “preppy funk” that blended nimble guitars, splashy percussion, and horns that sounded like they’d been imported straight from the Caribbean. Their songs rarely made sense lyrically, but they didn’t need to. Heyward’s words — “Ring, ring, ring, ring / When I call love / Love plus one” — were more about sound and rhythm than narrative. They felt like the overheard chatter of a love-struck youth, piecing together emotions into catchy nonsense. It was, as one critic quipped, “the poetry of a polite boy who’s just discovered romance but hasn’t yet figured out what to do with it.”

The song’s irresistible texture owes much to producer Bob Sargeant, already admired for his work with The Beat. Sargeant encouraged the band to lean into rhythm and space, layering marimbas, bongos, and steel drums alongside Phil Smith’s soprano saxophone. The result was a buoyant, island-tinged groove that somehow managed to sound both sophisticated and innocent — an early taste of what would later be dubbed “jazz-pop.” Heyward later recalled, “You can hear everything on ‘Love Plus One,’ but it’s punchy. Bob Sargeant was our George Martin — he made sense of the chaos and turned it into something beautiful.”

If “Love Plus One” had a secret weapon, it was its music video, directed by the ever-visionary David Mallet, who had worked with David Bowie and Queen. MTV had launched just a few months earlier in America, and the network was desperate for visually engaging British imports. Mallet delivered spectacle: a tropical fantasy filled with palm trees, loincloths, and playful danger, where Nick Heyward swung on ropes like a boyish Tarzan amid island maidens and comic savages. It was pure escapism, and it played endlessly on MTV — where the band’s clean-cut image and soft romanticism stood out against the harder edge of American rock.

The group toured the US on the back of the single, but the momentum didn’t last. When their first UK hit, “Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl),” was reissued stateside, it faltered at No. 101 — perhaps too quirky, too British, or simply too cardigan-clad for American audiences craving neon drama. Still, in Britain, Haircut One Hundred were on fire. They followed “Love Plus One” with two more Top 10 singles — “Fantastic Day” and “Nobody’s Fool” — before Heyward abruptly departed the band, uncomfortable with fame and eager to evolve. Haircut One Hundred might have burned out quickly, but for a brief, glorious season in 1982, they gave pop its most infectious smile.

THE HOUSEMARTINS – HAPPY HOUR

Publicada: juny de 1986

Llistes: Regne Unit: #3

Publicada com el tercer single del disc de debut de la banda “London 0 Hull 4”, “Happy Hour” va ascendir fins al número 3 de la llista de senzills del Regne Unit — el seu primer Top 10 i un èxit impressionant per a una banda indie d’un segell petit. Quan The Housemartins la van publicar el 1986, pocs esperaven que un senzill indie-pop enganyosament alegre es convertís en un dels comentaris més memorables sobre la cultura laboral britànica de l’època.

A la superfície, la peça sona com una celebració fresca, plena de guitarres brillants i harmonies animades. Però, sota aquesta aparença, la lletra de Paul Heaton s’esmola fins a convertir-se en alguna cosa molt més punyent. La cançó es burla de les obligacions socials dels treballadors d’oficina, especialment de l’expectativa no escrita de reunir-se al pub després de la feina, empassar pintes i representar un tipus concret de companyonia “masculina”. Heaton havia estat treballant la lletra durant un temps — el títol provisional havia estat “French England” — abans d’enllestir-la el 22 de gener de 1986, el mateix dia que va escriure “Me and the Farmer”.

El guitarrista Stan Cullimore va abordar la peça amb prioritats lleugerament diferents. Tenia una progressió d’acords preparada per a les estrofes, però, ansiós d’acabar i sortir a comprar uns pastissos, simplement va reutilitzar els mateixos acords per a la tornada. La primera demo va trigar menys de deu minuts. Era exactament el tipus de creativitat sense pretensions i espontània que definia The Housemartins — sincera, melòdica i discretament subversiva.

The Housemartins sovint eren comparats amb The Smiths, encara que no sempre de manera favorable. Johnny Marr va afirmar que “Happy Hour” era “una còpia completa de ‘I Want the One I Can’t Have’”, afegint que la banda “n’havia pres d’altres també.” Però, fos homenatge, coincidència o simplement el producte d’un llinatge guitarrer compartit, The Housemartins van construir el seu propi espai distintiu: cançons pop vivament melòdiques amb consciència socialista i un sentit de l’humor esmolat.

La popularitat de la cançó va créixer encara més gràcies al seu videoclip de plastilina — una animació peculiar ambientada en un pub, amb versions de plastilina del grup, incloent-hi el còmic Phill Jupitus llegint un diari a la barra. Filmat a The Star, a St John’s Wood, el vídeo capturava la barreja de sàtira i ximpleria del tema.

“London 0 Hull 4”, l’àlbum del qual provenia “Happy Hour”, lluïa la seva política amb orgull. El títol està estilitzat com un marcador de futbol, amb Hull — la ciutat natal de la banda — derrotant simbòlicament la capital. Era un cop a la visió centrada en el Sud-est del govern conservador de Margaret Thatcher, i les cançons del disc sovint reflectien la insatisfacció de Heaton amb el clima social del moment.

Per a The Housemartins, “Happy Hour” va marcar l’inici d’una trajectòria breu però remarcable a les llistes. Aconseguirien cinc Top 20 més al Regne Unit, incloent-hi la seva versió a cappella número 1 de “Caravan of Love”, abans de separar-se el 1988. Heaton formaria després The Beautiful South, però el llegat de The Housemartins — encantador, àcid i políticament carregat — continua ancorat en cançons com “Happy Hour”.

THE HOUSEMARTINS - HAPPY HOUR

Released: June 1986

Charts: UK: #3 

Released as the third single from the band’s debut album “London 0 Hull 4”, “Happy Hour” surged to No. 3 on the UK Singles Chart — their first Top 10 hit and an impressive success for an indie band on a small label. When The Housemartins released it in 1986, few expected that a jangly, deceptively cheerful indie-pop single would become one of the most memorable commentaries on Britain’s working culture of the era.

On the surface, the track sounds like a breezy celebration, all bright guitars and buoyant harmonies. Underneath, however, Paul Heaton’s lyrics sharpen into something far more pointed. The song skewers the social obligations of male office workers, especially the unspoken expectation to gather at the pub after work, down pints, and perform a particular brand of blokey camaraderie. Heaton had been shaping the lyrics for some time — the working title was once “French England” — before completing them on January 22, 1986, the same day he wrote “Me and the Farmer.”

Guitarist Stan Cullimore approached the track with slightly different priorities. He had a chord progression ready for the verses, but, eager to finish and head out to buy some cakes, he simply reused the same chords for the chorus. The first demo took less than ten minutes. It was exactly the sort of unpretentious, spur-of-the-moment creativity that defined The Housemartins — earnest, tuneful, and quietly subversive.

The Housemartins were often compared to The Smiths, though not always favorably. Johnny Marr claimed “Happy Hour” was “a complete rip-off of ‘I Want the One I Can’t Have,’” adding that the band had “nicked others too.” But whether homage, coincidence, or simply the product of a shared jangly guitar lineage, The Housemartins carved out their own distinct niche: briskly melodic pop songs with a socialist conscience and a wicked sense of humor.

The song’s popularity was boosted further by its claymation music video — a quirky, pub-set animation featuring plasticine versions of the band, complete with comedian Phill Jupitus reading a newspaper at the bar. Filmed at The Star in St John’s Wood, the video captured the track’s blend of satire and silliness.

“London 0 Hull 4”, the album from which “Happy Hour” originated, wore its politics proudly. The title is styled like a football scoreline, with Hull — the band’s hometown — symbolically defeating the capital. It was a jab at the South-East-centric worldview of Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government, and the album’s songs often reflected Heaton’s dissatisfaction with the social climate of the time.

For The Housemartins, “Happy Hour” marked the beginning of a brief but remarkable chart run. They would score five more UK Top 20 hits, including their No. 1 a cappella rendition of “Caravan of Love,” before splitting in 1988. Heaton would go on to form The Beautiful South, but the legacy of The Housemartins — charming, acerbic, and politically charged — remains anchored in songs like “Happy Hour.”

BEAUTIFUL SOUTH - A LITTLE TIME

Released: September 24, 1990

Charts: UK: #1 (1 week)

The Beautiful South released “A Little Time” in September 1990, and just a few predicted that this bittersweet, deceptively gentle duet would become the band’s only No. 1 single in the UK. Lifted from their second album, “Choke”, the song marked a shift in the group’s trajectory — away from the wry, politically tinted pop of their debut and toward something more theatrically emotional, sharp-edged, and pointedly human. “A Little Time” became a European success as well, charting inside the Top 20 across Ireland, the Netherlands, Austria, Belgium, and Luxembourg. 

Written by Paul Heaton and guitarist Dave Rotheray, “A Little Time” is a relationship song that doesn’t just explore heartbreak — it shows the ugliness, the pettiness, and the contradictions that come with real romantic conflict. Heaton later admitted the lyrics came from personal experience, describing it simply: “I’ve been in a situation myself where I said, ‘I need a little time.’” But unlike traditional breakup ballads, Rotheray emphasized that this one “doesn’t follow the same path as every other love song.”

The record’s power lies largely in its structure. Briana Corrigan and Dave Hemingway — the band’s twin voices — clash and complement each other in equal measure. Corrigan delivers the verses with bruised clarity, while Hemingway steps in for the chorus, giving the song a conversational tension. In The Beautiful South’s internal logic, this distribution made perfect sense: Hemingway and Corrigan tended to handle the band’s relationship-driven material, while Heaton reserved his voice for the political commentary.

If the song’s lyrical content challenged pop’s polished view of romance, the music video — which won the 1991 Brit Award for British Video of the Year — outright obliterated it. Directed by photographer Nick Brandt, the clip shows the feuding couple moving through the aftermath of a domestic explosion: smashed furniture, flour drifting in the air, feathers littering the room, and, memorably, a teddy bear’s head speared onto a kitchen knife. It was darkly comic, visually arresting, and far from the usual gloss of early-’90s pop videos. It remains the only Brit Award the band has ever won.

KATE BUSH - KING OF THE MOUNTAIN

Released: October 24, 2005

Charts:  UK: #4 

Kate Bush returned in 2005 after a 12-year silence with “King of the Mountain”, the lone single from her double album “Aerial”. It arrived on October 24 as an atmospheric meditation on fame, mythmaking, and the ghosts that both create and consume icons. The track climbed to No. 4 on the UK Singles Chart, her highest-charting single since the 1980s.

Originally written a decade before most of “Aerial”, the song orbits around a question lodged deep in popular culture: What if Elvis Presley never really died? Bush imagines the King hidden away somewhere snowy and remote, looking like a happy man and playing with “Rosebud,” the symbolic sled from “Citizen Kane”. The juxtaposition of these two American legends—Elvis and Charles Foster Kane—allows Bush to probe the crushing weight of celebrity, the ways in which wealth and adoration distort the human being at their center. “I don’t think human beings are really built to withstand that kind of fame,” she told BBC Four in 2005.

Bush leans into the mythic with a subtle, slurred vocal delivery that hints at Elvis without descending into parody. The production—handled by Bush herself—is dense, cold, and windswept, built on a pulsing rhythm and enveloping synth textures that mirror the song’s snow-shrouded imagery. Much of the vocal heard on the final track comes from an early demo recorded two years into her hiatus; Bush reportedly preferred the raw emotion of that early take to anything she attempted later.

Visually, “King of the Mountain” was introduced through an evocative animated music video directed by Jimmy Murakami. The clip premiered on Channel 4 on October 15, 2005, showcasing a dreamlike, almost surreal interpretation of the song’s themes. The single’s cover art added another personal touch: a drawing by Bush’s eight-year-old son, Bertie, whose presence and influence loom warmly throughout Aerial.

Although not as theatrically experimental as some of Bush’s earlier hits, “King of the Mountain” is a masterclass in restraint and atmosphere. It marks the beginning of her late-career renaissance—quiet, controlled, and confident—and reaffirms Bush as a singular storyteller, unbound by time, trends, or the expectations that fame once tried to impose on her.

KATE BUSH - HOUNDS OF LOVE

Released: February 17, 1986

Charts:  UK: #18 

With “Hounds of Love,” the title track of her 1985 masterpiece album, Kate Bush transformed raw human fear into one of the most exhilarating pop singles of the decade. Released in February 1986 and peaking at No. 18 on the UK charts, the song is a pulse-pounding meditation on vulnerability—particularly the terror and surrender that accompany falling in love.

At its core, “Hounds of Love” explores the instinct to flee intimacy. Bush frames love not as a soft, romantic force but as a pack of hunting dogs—relentless, powerful, and impossible to outrun. Yet the song complicates the metaphor, acknowledging that fear itself may be the problem. “I’ve always been a coward / And never know what’s good for me,” she confesses, turning the chase into an internal struggle between desire and self-protection.

The track’s cinematic flair owes much to a cult classic cherished by the Bush family: the 1957 supernatural thriller “Night of the Demon”. Its chilling line, “It’s coming! It’s in the trees!” is sampled at the song’s opening, setting a tone of heightened suspense. What follows is a thrilling collision of orchestral drama, thundering percussion, and Bush’s urgent vocals.

That elemental quality emerged in part from the album’s location. Recorded in the converted barn studio Bush built near her parents’ home in rural East Wickham, “Hounds of Love” reflects the natural world she saw outside her window. “Fields and trees, the elements doing their stuff,” she later said, describing the landscape that seeped into the album’s atmosphere. The result was her most commercially successful work: a record divided between five standalone singles on Side One and the ambitious conceptual suite “The Ninth Wave” on Side Two.

Visually, “Hounds of Love” is equally distinctive. The single’s video—directed by Bush herself—pays homage to Alfred Hitchcock’s “The 39 Steps”, complete with a Hitchcock lookalike in a playful nod to the director’s signature cameos. The album cover, captured by her brother John Carder Bush, meanwhile, features Bush cradled by her two dogs, Bonnie and Clyde, who reportedly took an entire day to calm down enough for the shot; one even fell asleep on her mid-pose. 

While Bush’s version remains definitive, “Hounds of Love” has taken on a second life through reinterpretation. The Futureheads’ 2005 indie-rock cover brought the song to No. 8 on the UK charts and earning NME’s Single of the Year.