Unhappy birthday

My friend J has a penchant bordering on evangelism for Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights. It was, he says with some pride, number one in the UK chart on the day he was born. Good thinking, I thought. I wonder if my birth song has as much street cred.1977 was a patchy year, to say the least. David Soul had two number one hits, marking the beginning of his rapid and deserved slide into obscurity that ended when Starsky and Hutch did two years later. On August 27 we were all apparently listening to the dubious-sounding Float On by The Floaters, a group of musicians so obviously destined to be a one-hit wonder that the record label named the band after its song. And Kenny Rogers had a hit with Lucille, one of the few songs ever made that attempts to rhyme “Toledo” with “depot”.

But 1977 also featured Baccara’s Yes Sir I Can Boogie and Donna Summer’s I Feel Love, two songs that are indeed classics (if you take as your yardstick their popularity on albums containing “best” and “… ever” in their titles). Elvis and Hot Chocolate hit the top spot with a pair of funky numbers and Abba, for whom I have a grudging respect, scored with The Name of the Game and Knowing Me, Knowing You.

So, what was my birthday song?

Chanson d’Amour, by Manhattan Transfer, that’s what. It is the most nauseating tune I have ever heard. They looked like this:

And their lyrics, sung in close harmony, went like this:

“Chanson d’amour, ra da-da da-da, play encore/ Here in my heart, ra da-da da-da, more and more”

I have no music pedigree at all. Why couldn’t I have had The Floaters?
See comments for your own birth song (if you were born between 1976 and 1978)

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