Congratulations to those picky pedants of pop
Whenever you read the words ‘A study has revealed . . .’, you can be sure that what follows is something you knew already.
‘A study has revealed that winter follows autumn.’
‘A study has revealed that wearing a thick jersey keeps you warmer.’
‘A study has revealed that people who live in big houses are richer than people who live in tiny hovels.’
Generally speaking, these studies are carried out by American academics with tongue-twister surnames. They are then reproduced in books with absurdly long titles.
Sure enough, we now hear that: ‘A study has revealed that the tunes you choose in the early teenage years will be with you for the rest of your life’.
The study is by ‘economist Seth Stephens-Davidowitz’, author of everybody Lies: Big Data, new Data and What the Internet Can Tell Us About Who We really Are.
According to Mr Stephens-Davidowitz: ‘There are big differences by birth year in how popular a song is.’ So if, you were born in 1921, like Prince Philip, then you are more likely to enjoy listening to vera Lynn than to The Manic Street Preachers. If, on the other hand, you were born in 1984, you’ll probably join with Prince harry in preferring the more raucous If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be next to the soothing The White Cliffs Of Dover.
My friends at the IBO (Institute of the Bleeding Obvious) will be delighted to read this report. And so, too, will everyone at The Society of Pedants, formerly The Pedants’ Society, before that The Pedants Society.
Mr Stephens- Davidowitz is nothing if not pedantic, spending his time ploughing through data collected by music company Spotify, and working out who has been listening to what and when.
The Society of Pedants will be particularly interested to learn that, in Mr S-D’s words: ‘The song Creep by radiohead is the 164th most popular song among men who are now 38 years old. But it is not in the top 300 for the cohort born ten years earlier or ten years later. The men who most like Creep now were roughly 14 when the song came out in 1993.’ Pay attention, at the back! Pop started out as the music of rebellion. After a decade, it turned into an adjunct of style. It now appears to have become a branch of higher mathematics.
My own love of pop peaked three years earlier than most, when I was just 11 years old, in 1968. It was the year Cliff richard won the eurovision Song Contest with Congratulaaay- shuns And Celebraaay-shuns, and The hollies reached number 7 with Jennifer eccles, a song as catchy as the common cold.
Singles I bought with my pocket-money that year included hey Jude by The Beatles, Captain Of Your Ship by reparata and The Delrons, and Legend Of X Xanadu by D Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich. Of the three, I preferred fe Legend Of Xanadu, for two reasons. First, because Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich made more of an effort on Top Of The Pops, putting on fa fancy dress (p ( pirates’ costumes, tu as I re recall) and, in Da Dave Dee’s case, cr cracking a whip. Se Second, because Ie I enjoyed feeling intellectually superior to those of my classmates who were stupid enough to think that Dave Dee was two separate people, one called Dave and the other called Dee, rather than just one person called Dave Dee.
‘how many members are there in Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich?’ I would ask. ‘ Six’ they would reply, and I would laugh my most scornful laugh.
OF COURSE, like most groups of that era, their success proved shortlived, and they splintered into factions. A few years ago, a friend of mine spotted a poster outside a club in the northeast. It just said Mick And Tich.
I could go on like this for ever. Fifty years on, I could sing you every Top 20 song from 1968 from start to finish, as well naming the lead singer, and possibly even the bass player, in each group.
Does this qualify me as an expert? Will I soon be qualifed to write pieces beginning, ‘ A study has revealed . . .?’