Richie's singles club

Norman Cook's short-lived Beats International excursion are, quite rightly, known in the main for splicing a loop from The Clash's 'Guns of Brixton' and singing the SOS band over the top of it. But, for all it's fun, 'Dub Be Good to Me' is not my favourite record by them - this one is. This time round, the bassline that Norm would pretend to play comes from Bob Marley's 'Could You Be Loved' while the lyrics owe more than a nod to the Steve Miller Band of all people. But for all that sounds like a bit of a sonic mess, this is an understated, dubby treat complete with diddly-diddly-diddly-diddly toasting refrains - and who doesn't love one of those? Sadly, this failed to hit the heights of previous successes and, after the equally poorly received 'Excursion on the Version' LP, Norm called it a day and adopted somewhere approaching 600 aliases over the next few years until he finally landed on Fatboy Slim. More on him elsewhere.

Ah, Patrick and Julian knew how to write a tune, didn't they? Although Kitchens of Distinction seemed to sadly be permanently tarred with the 'not very interesting' brush, this is probably the closest they ever came to a pop classic. There's plenty for indie fans to love too, particularly the climax which blends layers that would please the Cocteaus with fervent guitar that'd make David Gedge tip his hat in admiration. It's a shame that they probably never reached these heights again through the three difficult years that followed.

In 1991, Jesus Jones were releasing singles at a rate something like three a week which is why it's lucky this one is great. A remix of the version that appeared on their 'Doubt' LP, there are added dance gurgles, tribal chanting and a woman in an American TV show constantly repeating, 'Jesus, Joe!' The questions raised in the song's chorus seem to hint at the band being slightly overwhelmed by all that's happening around them - and that included number one success in the USA, which is quite remarkable when you think about it.

King Lou and Capital Q's jolly, Calypso-tinged track about playing board games with their aging mother gets pumped up by Double Trouble for a single outing. It loses its playfulness a little, but is still a lot of fun. Perhaps even better is B-side 'Very Easy to Assemble, But Hard to Take Apart' featuring scatman Slim Gaillard which takes their jazz rap thing another step closer to whatever its logical conclusion was ever supposed to be.

It didn't take long for the 1979 ska invasion to get a truly 'comedy' act: Madness were nutty, but they knew where to draw the line. Bad Manners started a few levels sillier, and reached such stupid heights as covering Offenbach and having an apparent residency on children's TV. This one's probably their most restrained and enjoyable - silly but with the potential to be saved...oh wait...what's it actually called? No-no-no-no-no!

After the melodic piano house of 'Anthem', it was quite a surprise to hear the relentless stabbing arpeggios that greet you on 'Adrenalin'. A sign of the harder edge of dance music to come, not least from N-Joi themselves on 'Live in Manchester', this was definitely the kind of thing to scare your mum with when the family sat down to watch Top of the Pops.

Led by the snappily-titled 'Gorgeous Blue Flower in my Garden', this record finds the Healers knee deep in scrunchy guitars while retaining a pop playfulness. This is what 4 Non Blondes probably wanted 'What's Up' to sound like, but instead it sounded like it did. Sorry that didn't work out. But, by Christ, the outro do this does. Lovely stuff.

Although this track had been buzzing around clubs for a couple of years, it was the 'Pinned Up Mix' that beefed up the sound and condensed it into something that nearly hit the charts. Perhaps all it was missing was a slightly more obvious melody, but places with the right soundsystem knew how to make the most out of that bassline.

For all he's synonymous with the rise of hip hop and hip house, Kurtis Mantronik didn't half like to shove out the odd turkey. This is one of those - it's from the same stock as his smart pop hit 'Got to Have Your Love', but just a bit bland and repetitive with at least eighteen layers of vocals too many.

The theme to Worzel Gummidge really didn't need a Dixieland jazz make over or any lyrics, quite frankly. Had they released the original instrumental it could have hit the top 10. Instead, Jon Pertwee teaches us kids how to spell his name - 'and you're left with me' he says gleefully. Bloody hope not.

In which Neil and Rachel's voices swirl together in a maelstrom of layered guitar fuzz. Which means it's pretty much like any Slowdive record going from this time (and means it's brilliant) - and it's the only one which makes you wonder if the title relates to, erm, waking up a little stiff.

Suitably goth title matched with a suitably ungoth name for a band. Why only play dead when you can...oh, never mind. This has all the ingredients needed for a great goth soup of a record - only it's very, very black, so it may only be appealing to people who like squid ink.

The Skids fired out a single every three months for two and a half years. This was the seventh and the first in a while not to hit the charts. While it's no 'Into the Valley', it's still a decent song but signs the band had skidded their last were already beginning to show.

Really nice, swirly, fuzzy, motorik stuff from the Senseless Things' label mates. 'Bethesda' may be about a software company, a town in Maryland or an object of affection for the Singleton brothers, but it rocks in any case.

Perfectly acceptable pop from Squeeze that is neither as good as 'Cool for Cats' nor as excruciating as watching Jools Holland hand-wank his through 'Auld Lang Syne' with his friends every year in September.

Sadly not a mid-80s indie tribute to the way Frank Carson tells them, this is more like Nick Cave trying to dosey-do at the local hoe-down. Difficult to say which I'd rather listen to, to be honest.

Where the future children's laureate tries to sound 'streetwise' over a horrible, colliding backing track. He doesn't even rhyme 'Scargill' with 'bar bill'. I mean, it was there for the taking.

Possibly the worst cover version ever heard as Bowie does Brecht on a barrel of brandy. Remember how upset we all were in 2016...guess nobody remembered this one from the Dame's back catalogue.

I was convinced after seeing four seconds of this video on the Chart Show that I loved it and asked my mate to buy me the single for my birthday. Most average birthday present ever really.

He may be seriously uncool, but I've always liked B.A. Robertson and his nonsense blues-pop. This is the one that goes on about cami knickers, winklepickers...old hat? Oh ya, ya!

Is this the first song everyone thinks of when they hear the term 'new wave'? Is it a massive rip-off of The Stranglers? Answers coming up after the break.