End of year compilations were not NOW’s style. They tried it once before, using NOW 4 as a way of hoodwinking the public into buying a compilation that had only a passing resemblance to the vinyl album of the same name. The fact that they ditched the idea straight away probably suggests the public didn’t take too kindly to the deceit. So, it was very odd to discover when researching NOW 8 that while that album was the first to be released as a proper CD version (all be it, one which contained little over half the songs of its vinyl big brother), it also found itself in competition with a rival, and not just a Hits album either.
For some reason, NOW made every effort to scupper the fledging CD format for their wildly successful series, by releasing an end-of-year compilation (on CD only) just two weeks before the release of NOW 8, and in doing so, robbed NOW 8’s CD of the album’s choicest songs, nabbing them for the year-end party edition instead. This sounds utterly absurd but I’m going to try and give NOW the benefit of the doubt and see if I can decipher what the hell was going on here.
First things first, in 1986, as I discussed in relation to NOW 8, the thought of a double CD release for a series geared towards pocket moneyed teenagers would probably have been prohibitively expensive. In today’s money, a double CD cost around £45-50, at a time when some kids (like little old me) we lucky to get about £2 a week. It’s also pretty steep for something as ephemeral as a NOW album, to be fair. Forking out around £10 (in old money) for a double album or cassette for yourself, or for a present for someone didn’t seem quite as bad (though today’s kids seem quite happy to pay £45 for a video game they’ll only play for a few months before the next ‘must have’ release arrives, but I digress…).
This is not the CD you’re looking for. or maybe it is…
So there may have been some twisted logic in this: why not release TWO albums, each mutually exclusive of the other; there is not one track which appears on both NOW 8 (CD) and Now ’86. You give the public the opportunity to make its choice, and, no doubt, the series would continue on with which ever concept sold more copies.
It’s a risky strategy, but it’s the only possibility I can think of. I really have no idea what they were thinking. With the rival Hits Album also releasing a CD version of its latest release (Hits 5 featuring George Michael, Whitney Houston, Paul Simon and, er, Don Johnson) maybe panic set in. November 1986 would prove to be very busy: Hits 5 was released on 10th November, Now ’86 a week later on the 17th, with NOW 8 following a fortnight later on the 28th. It was normal for NOW and Hits to give each other a couple of weeks breathing room, normally enough for both to take number one, if only for a week, but NOW would eventually win out, far outselling its main competitor. But the sudden appearance of NOW ’86 must have muddied the waters somewhat.
What NOW ’86 DIDN’T do, was tear up the charts. It managed just four weeks on the chart, reaching a dismal number 65 (this can be partially explained by the fact it was only available on CD). In contrast Telstar’s Greatest Hits of 1986 reached number 8, selling well over 100,000 copies. It was a double album, and not available on CD, but its line up was weaker than either NOW or Hits, being a mixed bag of the less popular tunes from both camps, and a couple of ‘couldn’t care less’ inclusions like Modern Talking’s Brother Louie and Atlantic Starr’s Secret Lovers. Meh.
Now ’86’s chart performance is somewhat baffling, even given its format restriction. It has a much better line-up than any of its rivals, containing four number ones (West End Girls, Don’t Leave Me This Way, I Wanna Wake Up With You, Chain Reaction) and countless should-have-been-number-ones (Absolute Beginners, A Kind of Magic, Sledgehammer and others). It’s a brilliant selection. It was even plugged on the telly.
Ah, Our Price. Never forgotten.
But what it did was strangle the CD version of NOW 8 at birth, as it pilfered all its best tracks. NOW 8 featured three number ones, but none of them make it onto the CD version. Two wound up on NOW ’86, whilst Nick Berry seems to have got himself locked in a cupboard on the way between the two offices. Among the other tracks, you get a couple that had appeared on NOW 7, but also a lot that haven’t been round these parts before. This is the only time West End Girls has appeared on a NOW album, for instance, which, along with Chain Reaction, had been licensed for Hits 4, from EMI, meaning their inclusion on NOW 7 or 8 was out of the question. Their rightful place on a NOW album is therefore taken . The inclusion of the slightly brilliant Ain’t Nothin’ Goin’ On But The Rent, whilst Gwen Guthrie’s abysmal cover of Close to You appeared on NOW 8 is somewhat baffling though.
A stock image library representation of the word ‘confused’
NOW ’86 is undoubtedly a brilliant collection (UB40 and Status Quo aside) but maybe it showed that the public wasn’t ready for NOW CD’s just yet; maybe it also shows the public doesn’t like being confused. Imagine buying someone a NOW album for Christmas 1986. Now 8, NOW ’86 or the newly re-issued NOW Christmas Album… which one did they ask for again? NOW Dance had now established itself as a secondary series, but its release pattern was carefully planned so as not to interfere with the regular series. NOW ’86 was like a hand grenade in NOW 8’s path, that somehow it survived.
I can’t find sales info for just the CD version of NOW 8, but I suspect they were poor. a fact reflected in the 2nd hand market, where copies in any condition can set you back between £30-40 for one in good condition. I can get a CD of NOW ’86 for less than a fiver.
It’s a curious business. Maybe it was the uncertainty of the CD market, maybe it was concern over Hits stealing its sales, maybe it was just greed, but the year-end compilation would be put on ice, to be revived, more successfully, in the mid-90s, whilst the regular series would continue into 1987, and NOW 9 would again be given the ‘CD selection’ treatment. Thankfully this time, there was no direct rival from its own stable to scupper it.
NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL MUSIC ’86
Release date
17th November 1986
Biggest tracks
West End Girls – Pet Shop Boys
Chain Reaction – Diana Ross
Though, really, every track is BIG
Lost gems
Ain’t Nothin’ Goin’ On But The Rent – Gwen Guthrie
To talk about NOW 7, you have to have a copy to hand. And I don’t mean a digital copy, or a playlist made from the track listing. You have to have an actual physical copy that you can listen to at your disposal. There are two reasons for this, the second I’ll come onto later, but the first is because of a cheeky decision made in the song selection that would be lost if you only had the track listing to hand rather than actually hearing the album.
A friend recently told me that as a kid he had NOW 6 on tape, and when side one started with Queen’s One Vision, he was convinced the tape was being mangled in his cassette player. Well, I’m sure a similar problem occurred in teenage bedrooms across the country with NOW 7 following the unusual, but very welcome, decision to include the album version of Sledgehammer as side one, track one. You see, most people think Sledgehammer starts with that killer, loud, saxophone sting, because that’s how they would normally hear it on the radio, on VH1 or on some 80s compilation (a sting, incidentally, borrowed from John Coltrane’s Chronic Blues). But the song actually starts with around 30 seconds of barely audible synthesised shakuhachi flute, which no doubt prompted many to turn up their stereos, thinking there was nothing on their shiny new record, only to find when the sax did kick in they’d probably buggered their speakers and/or jumped back across the room in fright.
Sledgehammer, somehow, didn’t get to number one, but it’s probably the biggest track here, in terms of longevity. In fact, despite containing four number one’s (one of which, Lady in Red, hadn’t even reached the top when the album went to press) they are among the least well-remembered of the decade. Or in the case of Lady in Red, among the least well-liked. Many of the other tracks here are far more fondly remembered. You have to wonder about a nation which sends Spirit in the Sky to number one rather than Bananarama’s Venus.
Now 7 picks up where NOW 6 left off and is pretty much a carbon copy; for the most part it’s a solid pop compilation with an acceptable number of duffers and a disappointingly bland final, dance-orientated, side. There’s few outright classics but for the most part it’s impressively solid and would have satisfied the contemporary buyer.
Things take an early wobble after Sledgehammer, with the ubiquitous appearance from UB40, this time with the particularly dull, even by their standards, Sing Our Own Song. The light was going out on the Brummie boys, and this would be their last original top ten hit, relying for success for the rest of their careers on collections of karaoke cover versions to keep them out of the dole office. I believe they released Labour of Love Volume 62 last year.
Improvement comes next with Sly Fox’s Let’s Go All The Way. An odd combination of a former Parliament-Funkadelic member (Gary ‘Mud bone’ (eeew!) Cooper) and a Puerto Rican vocalist (Michael Camacho), brought together by a British producer to basically create a prototype boy band, with only two members. The idea of two coke-head New Yorkers singing songs about ‘going all the way’ to wet-knickered teenage girls should have been a licence to print money, but after the success of the first single they never again recaptured the brilliant cross-over potential that made this such a hit. It’s one of those songs that you’ll remember if you were there at the time, but looked at now it has all the hallmarks of an 80s cash-in. Which of course it was, and that’s why it was a hit, it sounds like everything else successful at the time, but all in one song.
Things continue to get better with Level 42 (a sentence I never saw myself writing when I was in my youth) and The Pet Shop Boys wonderful soundtrack to a million 80s documentary montages, Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money). This was their first NOW appearance, but they would become reliable regulars for the next decade and a half. Pete Wiley’s Sinful! is a welcome addition to what is traditionally the pure pop side of a NOW album. His first single without the Mighty Wah, it’s no Story of the Blues, but it’s still a bit of a corker despite the horribly dated 80s production. he’s also got one of those voices I love: not flash, no messing about, just a bloke bellowing from the bottom of his very soul.
Then before we get to the odd but enjoyable Paranoimia (Art of Noise featuring Max Headroom!), there’s a problem, by the name of Stan Ridgeway. Well, I say he’s the problem, that may not be entirely fair, as he sounds like a genuinely talented and interesting guy. He’s worked with people like Stewart Copeland, Roger McGuinn, and even Frank Black, so he can’t be all bad. But, he sadly also wrote and recorded Camouflage. And it’s bloody awful. I hated it when I was kid (just as nobody’s Dad did) and I hate it even more in adulthood. I never understood (and still don’t) the 80s obsession with all things ‘Nam. There were the endless films, the songs (19, I Wanna be Your Drill Instructor), even a bloody magazine, Nam!, which built weekly into your own personal journal of the ‘Nam experience. It was inescapable. It’s been suggested that some people didn’t take kindly to Paul Hardcastle cut-and-pasting genuine Vietnam veteran interviews into a trendy dance track for 19, but to fair, for a lot of kids it was the first they’d ever heard about Vietnam (bar the introduction to The A Team, obviously) and they may have learnt more from it than any history lesson on the subject. But somehow, Camouflage gets away scot-free, and I’m not sure why.
Camouflage is the tale of a ghost (or zombie) soldier rescuing another who has been mortally wounded in battle in Vietnam. Chuck in a few racial references as well, and you’ve got yourself an honest to goodness flag-waving, patriotic winner. OK, so big hit in the States, I can accept, despite what my overturning stomach says, but top 5 in the UK? That’s just a bit odd.
Amazingly though, Camouflage isn’t the song I dislike the most on NOW 7. That accolade is reserved for Chris de Burgh, kicking off side two with the thoroughly unlikeable, and downright creepy, Lady in Red. “Unbelievably,” goes the blurb “this is Chris de Burgh’s first top 40 single”. Why was it unbelievable? He writes insipid, dull and creepy songs which no one likes. People pretend to like them, or buy them for people they think like his music. No one buys Chris de Burgh for themselves. The same goes for all those tedious ballads that hang around the charts like bad smells (Everything I Do, Love is All Around, My heart Will Go On), they are always bought for other people, who no doubt send them to the nearest charity shop when they split up with that person. No one chooses to listen to songs like that… ever.
The public are urged NOT to approach the man if they see him, and to alert their nearest police station immediately
Anyway, once he’s whispered his last, in one of the most unnerving fade outs in recorded history, side two gets good. Bowie’s Absolute Beginners is one of his all-time best (and another song you can’t believe wasn’t a number one), whilst Invisible Touch and All The Things She Said are listenable enough tracks from bands capable of better. Happy Hour is still brilliant (though The Housemartins best stuff was always less successful) and I amazed myself by enjoying Big Country’s Look Away. I never got Big Country as a young ‘un, but they’re attempt to create a truly unique, Scottish kind of rock is really interesting and it’s easy to see why they were so successful during this period.
One band who were very far from successful during this period was Furniture, who fill the “token left of centre slightly alternative track” slot. I’ll admit I knew very little about Furniture beyond this song. turns out they were the victim of record company shenanigans, and ultimately bankruptcy, internal differences and general bad luck. Brilliant Mind remains their only hit single (not another single or even an album made the top 75 despite gathering popularity) before they eventually split in 1990. Several members went on to form the more successful Transglobal Underground.
Call of the Wild closes out side two, one of the most forgettable tracks on any NOW album. Who was that by again?
The big guns are out for side three, with NOW licensing tracks from three of the Hits album’s stable, Wham, a-ha and Simply Red. Wham in particular was bit of a coup being as it was Wham’s farewell single (no concurrent Hits album was out at the time to snag the track for itself).To be fair, Edge of Heaven is a bit bland for a much-promoted final single; the previous release, I’m Your Man, is much better, and much better remembered. It’s certainly better remembered than Owen Paul, whose My Favourite Waste of Time may have been a massive top three hit, but it would prove to be his only hit. Apparently he gave up a promising football career (he was on Celtic’s books) after seeing the Sex Pistols, and decided to become a singer. He’s probably best known now for an embarrassing appearance on TV where he (and, to be fair, his band) completely failed to mime along to the track. Things like that can completely damage someone’s career, and so it was for Paul, who was seen performing backing vocals for Mike and the Mechanics.
Amazulu’s fun cover version Too Good To Be Forgotten still sounds good, and it makes a nice change to hear pop reggae sound by someone black for a change, rather than a nice middle-class boy.
And then we come to Spirit in the Sky. What is it about this bloody song, that whoever records it, it goes to number one? Three times by three different artists: Norman Greenbaum, Dr and the Medics and Gareth bloody Gates and the bloody Kumars. George Osborne could probably record it and hit the top. It seems the only version which didn’t get to number one was the best one, by Fuzzbox, which unfortunately was released around the same time as The Medics’ version. It never stood a chance.
Bananarama’s Venus is just pop genius, I don’t need to add anything about that. a-ha’s remix of Hunting High and Low is infinitely better than the version which appeared on the album of the same name, but it’s still a bit dreary, enlivened somewhat by some over-dramatic production on this single version. They were huge enough at the time to warrant inclusion if they just released a version of the alphabet, but this doesn’t show them in their best light. Holding Back the Years continued Simply Red’s run of hits, but it would be another five years before they had a top ten single with an original hit despite massive album success. I’m not a fan.
Which leaves one track on side three to discuss, and it’s a doozy. New Beginning by Bucks Fizz does not immediately get the blood pumping. Yes, for a year or two at the start of the decade, they were pop royalty, with a string of fun, pure pop hits, and a couple of number ones along the way. If you only know Making Your Mind Up or Land of Make Believe, you literally will not know what hits you when you hear New Beginning. It’s not perfect, but as one of those songs by a band desperate to change its image it’s right up there with U2’s The Fly or Duran Duran’s Notorious. Reportedly it took months to record, and cost quite a bit too, but the band were determined to try something grown up, as they saw it. It’s got a lush, rich production sound to it, rather than the then-omnipotent 80s synth sounds; whereas everyone seemed to be using drum machines, this sounds like it’s got proper drums on it. And not just one set either, a whole town full of drums. It also uses African influences, of a kind that would become de rigueur after Paul Simon made them commercial. It reached a very respectable number eight, their biggest hit for four years. Sadly, the accompanying album flopped (as did the subsequent singles) and the band fell into a spiral of holiday camps, coach crashes, splits, lawsuits and endorsing diet plans.
But wait! There is actually one more song to discuss on side three, though you wouldn’t know it from the track listing, which finishes with Simply Red. It’s also the other reason why you have to have a physical copy of NOW 7 lying around to properly review it. Curiously, the front cover of NOW 7, at least in its original release, featured a sticker on the front proclaiming that it contained a bonus track, one A Kind of Magic by Queen. Why they would keep a top three hit, one of the most popular songs of the year so far, as a bonus track is unclear. It features prominently in the TV ad as being on the album, but it is not listed anywhere. Many sources say it was a bonus track on ‘some’ copies of the album, but those same sources list it as being the final track on side three, so what constitutes it being a ‘bonus’? That normally suggests it was only on certain copies, or on a certain format, but it seems to have been on the cassette as well. It’s all a bit baffling, and maybe, dare I say it, suggests a last minute cock-up on someone’s part, that the song was never listed, but was always meant to be there?
So when is a bonus track NOT a bonus track?
Anyway, shall we dance?
When the Going Gets Tough is the oldest track on here, having been released in January (NOW 7 itself came out in August) but was bound to be included as it was number one for four weeks and one of the year’s biggest sellers. Today it’s considered something of an 80s classic despite being horrifically dated, but it’s not for me. I much prefer Get Out of My Dreams, but we’ll have to wait for NOW 11 for that one. Jaki Graham makes her third consecutive appearance, this time with the track she’s probably best known for, Set Me Free. It’s pretty good too, easily the best of her NOW appearances.
We then to three tracks so of their time, the only people who will have heard of them, let alone like them, would have had to have been avid chart listeners in 1986. Nu Shooz I Can’t Wait somehow managed to get to number two, though I’ve no idea how. It’s the sound of a wine bar distilled through a Roland 808 and onto vinyl. It’s dull, goes on forever and is thoroughly annoying.
The complete opposite is (Bang Zoom) Let’s Go Go. Now, I’m no scholar of rap music, and I’m sure there are those out there who will dismiss this as chart-friendly pop trash compared to what Run DMC and the like were doing in 1986, but as far as introducing rap to the masses this is near perfect (horrible synth Fred Astaire breakdown accepted). The Real Roxanne was a respected New York hip-hop MC, who was involved in some nonsense over answer records (like all that Fuck You business at the start of the 2000s) which I’ve got no idea about. It’s on the internet if you need to know more.
I’m sure you don’t want to know more about the incredibly ugly Lovebug Starski who for some reason thought the path to stardom involved recording a rap record based on a horror film released a decade before, and include loads of unfunny impressions of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. Maybe it was the legacy left by Ghostbusters and Thriller, but forgetting that those songs were actually good.
Come on, who really thought this would make a good publicity shot?
Headlines and You and Me Tonight and just wisps of songs, stuck in the middle ground between the death of disco and the new emerging dance scene, which, to be fair, had yet to find a proper sound. Both are completely forgettable, by completely forgotten artists. We finish off with On My Own, a sugary ballad, that of course was a huge hit, lifted by Patti La Belle’s lovely voice, and Michael McDonald, an artist I can never listen to a straight face anymore since his contribution to the soundtrack for South Park: The Movie
And so, yet again, the album kind of dissipates in a puff of undistinguished guff. But at least you now know what a synthesised shakuhachi flute sounds like. It wasn’t what the advert had promised.
That does, however, answer my query for years about what the hell that was supposed to be on the cover. Obviously the influence of the Clothes Show, and fashion culture in general, was being felt even in the hallowed halls of NOW Towers. The ‘Feel the Quality’ tagline would be dropped after NOW 7 as would the design team who created it. But that wouldn’t be the only change for the NOW series. Christmas 1986 would see them renew their battle with Hits, and this time it would take place in the future! And the future was NOW.
The video version contained three tracks not featured on any NOW album (marked with #). Interesting that one of those tracks was by Culture Club, who just two years previously were one of Virgin records cash cows. They were obviously feeling they were not warranting the same kind of profile and promotion as before, or it was felt including them on NOW 7 would damage the sales of their current album.
Two further tracks (marked with *) would later appear on NOW 8.
Queen – A Kind of Magic
UB40 – Sing Our Own Song
Sly Fox – Let’s Go All the Way
Level 42 – Lessons in Love
Pet Shop Boys – Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money)
Pete Wylie – Sinful!
Stan Ridgway – Camouflage
Art of Noise with Max Headroom – Paranoimia
Jermaine Stewart – We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off*
End of year compilations were not NOW’s style. They tried it once before, using NOW 4 as a way of hoodwinking the public into buying a compilation that had only a passing resemblance to the vinyl album of the same name. The fact that they ditched the idea straight away probably suggests the public didn’t take too kindly to the deceit. So, it was very odd to discover when researching NOW 8 that while that album was the first to be released as a proper CD version (all be it, one which contained little over half the songs of its vinyl big brother), it also found itself in competition with a rival, and not just a Hits album either.
