Now that’s what you call an 80s phenomenon…

The 80s was, of course, a decade of fads – shoulder pads, boomboxes and neon spandex included – but there’s one particular trend has never gone away.

In fact, the ‘Now That’s What I call Music!’ albums, usually boiled down to ‘Now!’ went on to become a staple of the music industry in the UK and worldwide.

Everyone remembers the first one they bought (or in my case the first one my mum bought me).

Moreover, most can even recall their favourite songs on it. Mine was the very first release in 1986 and there was a three-way tie between Too Shy by Kajagoogoo, Total Eclipse of the Heart, by Bonnie Tyler and Is There Something I Should Know? by Duran Duran for my most played track.

The idea for the Now! phenomenon was born in the Virgin Records offices of Richard Branson in London.

The premise was to create a collection that would include original versions of hit tracks rather than the watered-down edits that were rife on their competitor albums.

Bizarrely the series took its name from a 1920s advertising poster for Danish bacon featuring a pig listening to a chicken sing “Now that’s what I call music.” The poster was purchased by Branson and was hung behind his cousin’s desk at the Virgin Records office.

The pig became the Now! series’ mascot for a while, making its last appearance on Now! 5.

Virgin teamed up with EMI and the first album in the original series was released in November, 1983.

Initial pressings were released on vinyl and audio cassette, with a re-release on CD in 2009, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the album and series.

Among its 30 songs, the excellent Now! 1 – the only album I had for my record player at the age of 11 – features 11 songs which reached number one on the UK Singles Chart: You Can’t Hurry Love by Phil Collins, Is There Something I Should Know? by Duran Duran, Red Red Wine by UB40, Give It Up by KC & The Sunshine Band, Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler, Karma Chameleon by Culture Club, Too Shy by Kajagoogoo, Down Under by Men at Work, Baby Jane by Rod Stewart, Wherever I Lay My Hat (That’s My Home) by Paul Young and Candy Girl by New Edition.

The Now! series became a reliable blockbuster around two to three times a year by sticking to a much-used music industry formula.

It took a collection of the biggest radio hits and packaged them together in a compilation – and bingo.

Now II, released in March, 1984 debuted at number three on the UK Albums Chart and then climbed to number one a week later, staying there for five weeks.

The first full-track edition to be released on CD, as well as on vinyl and cassette, was Now! 10 in November, 1987. I have this too…

It reached the top of the UK Albums Chart for six weeks and featured three songs that reached number one on the UK Singles Chart: Pump Up the Volume by MARRS, China in Your Hand by T’Pau and La Bamba by Los Lobos.

This release pretty much summed up the problem with buying a compilation CD/record – you often had the sublime (Fairytale of New York by The Pogues with Kirsty MacColl) as well as the ridiculous – My Pretty One by Cliff Richard).

Vinyls ended with Now! 35 and cassettes ended with Now! 63. Part of the series was also released on the MiniDisc format, starting with Now! 43 and ending with Now! 48.

These days the Now! releases seem predominately aimed at the young, especially ‘tween’, girls.

Eighty-two Now! albums have been released to date. The newest album in the series, Now! 83 was released last month.

Now! 83 features 12 songs which reached number one in the UK Singles Chart (most of which I confess I haven’t heard of).

Back in the 80s, before the days of digital downloading, if you were keen on the UK Singles Chart it made perfect sense to purchase a Now! album. It was music’s version of one-stop shopping.

And in our age of digital downloading, iTunes, Spotify and even YouTube, these compilations are still thriving. The series is the biggest selling compilation series… ever. It’s also the longest-selling branded compilation album in the UK.

“Now That’s What I Call Music! has always been a hit because every edition brilliantly distills each two or three months in pop,” says Mark Goodier, of Smooth Radio and the voice of Now! since Now! 21. “When a collector like me reviews the collection of Now! albums, it’s an accurate journey through the last two and half chart decades”.

Pick up a copy of the Weekend Sentinel every Saturday for 12 pages of nostalgia

The Eighties is the decade most of us remember fondly

The original Now That's What I Call Music album.

The original Now That’s What I Call Music album.

Sunday, December 25, 1983. Christmas Day. That’s when I officially fell in love with the Eighties.

I sat in my bedroom marvelling at my brand new copy of the original Now That’s What I Call Music album, my shiny new record player and the sturdy black singles box containing my first 45s.

I’ve still got that album and all the seven inches – Status Quo’s Margeurita Time, Paul Young’s Wherever I Lay My Hat, and Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl, among others.

That day I played them from the moment we’d finished the turkey until I was ordered to bed.

Suddenly, at the age of 11, I realised music wasn’t the sole preserve of my parents.

Apparently, there was more to life than Elvis and Roy Orbison – despite years of brainwashing by my mum.

Money saved from my Sentinel paper round was soon being spent on singles and albums.

I walked up to Hanley on Saturdays and bought everything from Adam Ant, Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran to Bruce Springsteen and the mighty Bon Jovi.

Through music I discovered that girls weren’t just things to make you flush red if they looked at you in class or, heaven forbid, spoke to you at break time.

I took umbrage with Michael J Fox because a certain girl in the top class at Holden Lane High called him ‘dreamy’ after watching Back To The Future.

I was mesmerised when Kim Wilde or Belinda Carlisle came on the telly – and fell hopelessly in love with Susannah Hoffs from The Bangles.

I am delighted to say that while the Eighties may be the ‘decade that taste forgot’ it is also the decade that has stubbornly refused to go away.

Of course, it helps that my generation of 30 and 40-somethings are now in control of so many TV remotes and perhaps have the most disposable income.

But it is a fact that, for some time now, there has been a genuine appetite for 1980s nostalgia.
An internet campaign brought the Wispa chocolate bar back from the dead.

Monster Munch crisps have been relaunched.

Hit 80s TV shows like Starsky and Hutch and The Dukes of Hazzard have, sadly, been turned into big-budget movies.

What’s more, you can’t move for Eighties bands and singers hitting the road again to relive past glories.

People like Rick Astley, Bananarama, Midge Ure and, er… Kim Wilde (blush), who all performed at Alton Towers’ 30th birthday party at the weekend.

We lap it up because of music’s wonderful talent for forcing us to don rose-tinted Ray-Bans and reminding us of a special time in our lives.

When my sister-in-law celebrated her 40th birthday earlier this year it has to be said that the highlight of her raucous party weekend was the 1980s music.

I danced – I use that term loosely – until 3am and, as I lay in bed that night it occurred to me that I couldn’t see children of the Nineties or Noughties yearning for their formative years with quite the same enthusiasm.

For some, the Eighties was a grim decade of industrial unrest, high unemployment, terrible hair and worse clothing.

But, to me, as a child growing up in the Potteries, it is a decade that will always be golden – a time of great certainties, household names and sunny optimism.

In the Eighties, our milk man delivered bottles of pop in a variety of radioactive colours and the ‘outdoor’ at the top of our road sold Black Jacks and Fruit Salad sweets for half a pence.

Royal Doulton and Wedgwood seemed like immortal employers and a job on ‘the Mich’ (Michelin) was a job for life.

It was a time when Hanley still had family businesses like Bratt and Dyke where I could spend hours just mooching around.

It was the decade when the Boothen End proper at the Old Victoria still roared its defiance and when a certain bloke with a flat cap took over the reins at Vale Park – promising nothing and delivering the best era in my football club’s history.

It was a time when this newspaper still produced the much-anticipated Football Final on Saturdays.

It was also the decade of the Garden Festival that transformed 180 acres of derelict land in the heart of Stoke-on-Trent into the thriving retail and business park we all now take for granted.

Yes, the Eighties may well be ‘the decade that taste forgot’.

It’s also the decade that I, and I suspect many others, are most happy remembering.