Dubstar: Not So Manic Now on BBC TOP OF THE POPS

And that’s when you knew your time had come.

Top of the Pops wasn’t just a TV show, not just a national institution, it wasn’t The Tube or The Big Breakfast, when you appeared on Top of the Pops you were playing into the history books.

Dubstar appeared three times.

They may have denied it, but every serious act in the 1990s wanted to appear on Top of the Pops. Credibility concerns were over, this wasn’t the 1980s. We’d lived through that decade and learned from MTV that television was the key to success, and Top of the Pops was the most important opportunity. It was the king of the music shows, the Christmas Dinner of Sunday roasts.

Because everyone watched Top of the Pops. The industry, your family, your fans, millions who didn’t know you. And when you appeared in everyone’s front room on a Friday night, the context was unique. We forgot about your struggles, the years of hard work in obscurity. You appeared on Top of the Pops and what you received was…

Recognition!

That’s what you noticed immediately, for the first time people knew who you were. This must seem strange if all you’ve experienced is the music industry of the twenty-first century, where only the profoundly famous have any recognition factor at all. And even then not much…quick, how many Taylor Swift songs can you list?

Yes, Dubstar weren’t that different from all the other indie kids rolling around in stale beer on the dance floor at The Riverside or The Dublin Castle, but we’d made it down the train tracks from Newcastle to the bright lights. And to the cameras.

So we appeared on Top of the Pops and immediately people knew who we were. We had a reputation to protect, to dress better, at least I did, but not like influencers, not like the Britpop crowd, we were more…normal. Or was that Northern? No matter, there was a newfound sense of responsibility to the music. Keep the magic alive, we all benefitted.

Yes, appearing on Top of the Pops did mean something.

I’d wanted to be on it since, I don’t know, since I was ten years old? I was convinced I would manage it one day. It didn’t occur to me that I would have to do it as myself, and not as one of my heroes. I’m not Gary Numan, I’m not magical, am I?

In reality, Top of the Pops wasn’t magic, there were no stars in that studio, it was not about posturing and throwing your weight around as an icon. You didn’t come to Top of the Pops alone, you came with your entourage, your posse, all of whom brought their own contribution to the magic. And you came to reach into the homes of everyone in the country. Maybe the whole world one day?

I don’t remember details about the show itself, I was watching the monitor screens, the stagehands and engineers and taking far more interest in how the TV show was made than in the sense of occasion. This was typical. Dubstar was about to be visible all the way to the Outer Hebrides. You don’t get a buzz that big anywhere else, yet I was emotionally absent, thinking about the next move as usual. On stage it was all human, just one take. We had no dance steps, no perfection, no rehearsals, we appeared just as we had at countless gigs across the land. We mimed of course, but Sarah sang live! It was us as people standing there for all to enjoy and appraise. It was magical.

The format of the show hadn’t changed since the sixties. Some personalities introducing the acts that you may have heard before but hadn’t seen. It answered the question of ‘who are these people you idolise?’. In other words, Top of the Pops was the antithesis of the music world we have today. And it was ubiquitous.

For example:

The biggest recording act in the UK in January 1996 was Oasis and everyone knew it.

Today, er….?

LATER AT THE AFTER-SHOW

I was listening to Keith Allen on the settee at the Soho House, he was going on and on about ecstasy, the drug, asking where we could find some because he’d heard the kids love it. I think he was being funny. To his left, Alex James from Blur, to his right Damien Hirst, the artist.

I couldn’t help him. I’d just been on Top of the Pops.

And I had nothing further to contribute because I’d had a headful of whiskey, a drink that I didn’t normally touch. I was struggling to stand, let alone speak. But hey, it was a Dubstar party and the drinks were free! Were they ever not free?

It’s funny, as big as Blur, Oasis, Primal Scream and [insert your favourite band from the 1990s here, we’d met them all by this point], none drank as hard as Dubstar. Everybody in the Soho House that night was out of it, and so was I.

I stole Alex James’ pint of Guinness as some attempt at retribution for his gatecrashing of our party with his famous mates. That was the last thing I remember, maybe a vague recollection of many being surprised at how drunk I was? Probably because it wasn’t normally me from the Dubstar gang rolling around on the floor. My sister, who had travelled down from Cambridge for the show, had to leave to get the last train home but didn’t make it, and was stranded at Kings Cross station. Sadly, like so many older brothers, I was no use.

Somehow I made it back to the White House Hotel in Regents Park. And was sick. That was the last time in my life I vomited from alcohol.

But that’s Rock and Roll. I woke up twelve hours later dying, and contemplating that this must be how it feels to be successful.

THINKING BACK NOW

Now it’s 2024, you can’t get an audience to watch entertainment they don’t choose. Entertainment is abundant and on demand, so why watch something you might not like? But in 1996 music could draw millions of viewers to watch artists simply out of curiosity…was it because Top of the Pops was the only window into that magical world? Hmmm….

Whatever, Top of the Pops was a show that set you up with your musical choices, the artists came into your home to set you on the way to somewhere else. To go to the record shops, to the gigs, to read the music press, you watched the show as an active participant! Every act on Top of the Pops was there to engage YOU. And we, the performers, dreamed that the audience would light a fire for US.

I miss this feeling, the musical world I grew up in. And if you don’t remember it…

You weren’t there.