Though not generally known for being a publication
shy of blowing its own trumpet, The Sun newspaper (the periodical behind this
album) are nevertheless rather coy as to what treats are in store for the
listener once they get this home. After all, I've learned from experience that
the promise of '24 Non Stop Party Hits' can cover a multitude of sins; is this
an album of Top of the Pops soundalike cover versions, or is it just made up of
cover versions per se? Alternately, are these instrumental versions strung
together in a 'non stop' medley, and are they played solely on a lead instrument
like the omnipotent Hammond Organ? The cover isn't saying. To add to the
mystery, on the back there's a photograph of The Osmonds in concert plus a
further standalone picture of Little Jimmy Osmond despite there not being a
single Osmonds track to be found on the record itself.
As for what is on here, well I've put a photo of the tracklist below - a undeniable generous - albeit undeniably curious - selection of some of the biggest UK hits from the late sixties to the early seventies, including an impressive 13 number ones. Saying that, twenty four tracks is rather a lot to spread over two sides of vinyl and, true enough, they are crowbarred on so tightly the surface of the disc is smooth as glass to the touch and you'd need the eyesight of a hawk with binoculars to be able to tell where one songs ends and the next one starts too. I've been cueing up tracks for over forty years and I couldn't do it. Maybe it's a cunning ruse to make sure you begin at the beginning.
If that was the plan, then there's method in it - both sides starts off on a promising note with decent stabs at 'Band Of Gold' (with a Freda Payne soundalike who's at least in the right ballpark) and 'Get It On' (which has the lead doing a credible Bolan impersonation). But then just as you breathe a sigh of relief that this may turn out to be something worthwhile after all, next songs 'Rose Garden' and 'Don't Let It Die' are performed as instrumentals, with a twangy guitar replacing the vocal on the former and a honking sax replacing Hurricane Smith's vocal on the latter. This sets the scene for the whole album - straight cover versions alternating with instrumentals that have a different lead instrument 'singing' the vocal. Thus,'Poppa Joe' becomes a fiddle led hoedown, 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' substitutes Garfunkel's choir boy soar with (what else) a reedy Hammond organ etc. And why on earth anybody would want an instrumental version of the purposely wordy 'Lady Eleanor' is a mystery, but it's on here if you want it.
For the 'other' songs, well as I've already said, the first are the best. And by some margin. The remainder are the usual mix of the good and the bad - it's better on the more bubblegum hits where there's less of an artist identity to emulate and the catchy tunes can be left to do all the work ('Sugar Sugar', 'I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing', 'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep') but the award for 'ugly' must surely be split between the copycat 'live' version of 'My Ding-a-Ling' that goes so far as to faithfully recreate Chuck Berry's ad-libs and audience laughter, and a hokey take on 'Honky Tonk Women' where the cowbell intro becomes the sound of someone impatiently tapping a drainpipe with a spoon before it really goes downhill with a cabaret band version that doesn't get even remotely close to the slow drag sleaze and drawl of the original. You have to admire the bottle of all involved if nothing else, and no, that 'Woman' is not a spelling mistake, the band really do sing about a honky tonk woman singular rather than honky tonk women plural. How that got past whatever amounted to quality control I don't know, but it reeks of a certain can't be arsed contempt for the listener that pervades the whole record.
Whether that's true or not I don't know, but I can say that listening to all this in one go is a slog where the 'Non Stop' moniker becomes more of a threat than a promise. And that's mainly because mixing instrumental versions with vocals is a strange move and one that simply does not work - all it does is allow this to fall between two distinct stools creating an uneasy listen that I can't imagine anybody anywhere finding satisfying on any level other than when the non stop hits finally do come to a stop 24 songs later. As a final piece of oddness that could also double as an act of mercy, the cover spine is completely blank, meaning if this were filed away in the middle of a collection of any size then it would not be easy to find again. Small mercies indeed.
As for what is on here, well I've put a photo of the tracklist below - a undeniable generous - albeit undeniably curious - selection of some of the biggest UK hits from the late sixties to the early seventies, including an impressive 13 number ones. Saying that, twenty four tracks is rather a lot to spread over two sides of vinyl and, true enough, they are crowbarred on so tightly the surface of the disc is smooth as glass to the touch and you'd need the eyesight of a hawk with binoculars to be able to tell where one songs ends and the next one starts too. I've been cueing up tracks for over forty years and I couldn't do it. Maybe it's a cunning ruse to make sure you begin at the beginning.
If that was the plan, then there's method in it - both sides starts off on a promising note with decent stabs at 'Band Of Gold' (with a Freda Payne soundalike who's at least in the right ballpark) and 'Get It On' (which has the lead doing a credible Bolan impersonation). But then just as you breathe a sigh of relief that this may turn out to be something worthwhile after all, next songs 'Rose Garden' and 'Don't Let It Die' are performed as instrumentals, with a twangy guitar replacing the vocal on the former and a honking sax replacing Hurricane Smith's vocal on the latter. This sets the scene for the whole album - straight cover versions alternating with instrumentals that have a different lead instrument 'singing' the vocal. Thus,'Poppa Joe' becomes a fiddle led hoedown, 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' substitutes Garfunkel's choir boy soar with (what else) a reedy Hammond organ etc. And why on earth anybody would want an instrumental version of the purposely wordy 'Lady Eleanor' is a mystery, but it's on here if you want it.
For the 'other' songs, well as I've already said, the first are the best. And by some margin. The remainder are the usual mix of the good and the bad - it's better on the more bubblegum hits where there's less of an artist identity to emulate and the catchy tunes can be left to do all the work ('Sugar Sugar', 'I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing', 'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep') but the award for 'ugly' must surely be split between the copycat 'live' version of 'My Ding-a-Ling' that goes so far as to faithfully recreate Chuck Berry's ad-libs and audience laughter, and a hokey take on 'Honky Tonk Women' where the cowbell intro becomes the sound of someone impatiently tapping a drainpipe with a spoon before it really goes downhill with a cabaret band version that doesn't get even remotely close to the slow drag sleaze and drawl of the original. You have to admire the bottle of all involved if nothing else, and no, that 'Woman' is not a spelling mistake, the band really do sing about a honky tonk woman singular rather than honky tonk women plural. How that got past whatever amounted to quality control I don't know, but it reeks of a certain can't be arsed contempt for the listener that pervades the whole record.
Whether that's true or not I don't know, but I can say that listening to all this in one go is a slog where the 'Non Stop' moniker becomes more of a threat than a promise. And that's mainly because mixing instrumental versions with vocals is a strange move and one that simply does not work - all it does is allow this to fall between two distinct stools creating an uneasy listen that I can't imagine anybody anywhere finding satisfying on any level other than when the non stop hits finally do come to a stop 24 songs later. As a final piece of oddness that could also double as an act of mercy, the cover spine is completely blank, meaning if this were filed away in the middle of a collection of any size then it would not be easy to find again. Small mercies indeed.
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