Insidious things, oldies radio stations. You tune in with the harmless intention of soundtracking your working day, hoping for a little Carl Perkins here, a dash of The Animals there, a sprinkling of The Walker Brothers all over, only to find yourself the victim of heretical thoughts such as, “actually, Bachman Turner Overdrive really weren’t that bad”. Once in a while though they drag up a lump of coal from the stygian gloom of the past, give it a swift polish, et voila: a priceless diamond. Good people, suspend your cynicism for two minutes while I present to you the rather immense, S-Club 7.
There was a time I was ironically proud of being able to name all of S-Club 7. Their cheeky winning drama school smiles illuminated seemingly every Saturday morning kids programme and rekindled my fondness for manufactured bands. A love affair begun in the early 70’s with the weekly appearance of The Partridge Family and nurtured during school holiday reruns of The Monkees and The Doubledeckers. OK, I know The Doubledeckers weren’t actually a band, but containing, as they did, a future member of Aswad, they count. Even without recourse to Allmusic I find I can still remember six Sclubbers, including two surnames!
However, unlike The Monkees, S-Club 7 product was always unlikely to grace my record collection. I appreciated what the Italia Conti Academy of acting had done for these young tykes but the likes of It’s An S-Club Thing and Two In A Million were never going to shift Bikini Girls With Machine Guns by The Cramps from the turntable.
And then in 2001 Lux and Ivy were forced to step aside. Armed with a vocoder and one of those rhythms that seems designed to practice CPR to, The 7 momentarily conquered the nation. As autumn crept over the country, grizzled veterans of a thousand London pubs, clubs and live venues were to be found glaring at each other with the astonishment of trench artillerymen hearing the armistice klaxon. “By crikey, they’ve done it, they’ve really done it!”
The anthrax infectious Don’t Stop Moving proved to be one of those landmark records by which, like it or not, you map out your past, and which gradually transcends the world of criticism and just… is. I have, for example, no idea whether Bill Withers Lovely Day is a good song or not, but when the sunlight hits my eyes I’ll be singing along regardless. Yes, occasionally I DO feel like a room without a roof, but I now know that Pharrell Williams will always be there to clap along with me. Yes, I was the black sheep of my family and although my Dad tried to teach me right from wrong you may well ask how, with too much wine and too much song, I got along. Easy – I had Terry Jacks to show me the way.
So good people, forget about your fears tonight and listen to your heart. See that uncoordinated guy on the dancefloor? The one dancing behind Hannah, Jon, Paul, Jo, Tina, Bradley and the other one? Well that’s me and I’m NEVER going to stop moving to that funky, funky beat.