30 years on, is it time to say goodbye to the 'Now That's What I Call Music!' compilations?

How do the long-running CD compilations fit into a music industry dominated by streaming music, downloads and digital platforms?

I have never been an avid listener of top 40 chart music, especially in 1983 when I was a young idealistic and politically motivated anarcho-punk. I had a British government to overthrow and the likes of Phil Collins, Paul Young, Madonna, Culture Club, and Michael Jackson were never going to be the ideal soundtrack to my revolution or inspire me politically to stand up and fight back against the system. So really, chart music in the 1980s pretty much slipped past me almost unnoticed apart from two particular events in 1983 that, it could be argued, changed the face of popular music for better and/or for worse.

The first was in March of 1983 and was the digital music ‘revolution’ of the early eighties; the Compact Disc, or better referred to as the CD, went on sale for the first time  in the UK. This was heralded as the ultimate in high fidelity digital reproduction and listening and, unlike the vinyl record, was scratch proof, tea, coffee and child proof and almost ‘indestructible’ – none of which, for those who foolishly believed the marketing spiel, turned out to be true.

The second event was in the December of that same year. With the retail run up to Christmas approaching and an opportunity to set cash registers ringing into meltdown, Richard Branson, owner and CEO of Virgin Records, entrepreneur and never one to miss an opportunity to make money, took it upon himself, along with backing from EMI, to ‘grace’ us with the first ever ‘Now That’s What I Call Music!’ compilation album. The idea of a chart music compilation album was not new, even by 1983 standards. Pickwick Records had successfully created and sold a series of records in the 1970s entitled ‘Top of the Pops’ which contained anonymous cover versions of recent and current chart hit singles of the time. Although they did not contain the original artists the recordings were intended to replicate the sound of the original hits as closely as possible. Other companies such as K-Tel, Music For Pleasure and Stereo Gold Award soon followed suit with their own versions of the pop chart compilation album format.

So when Branson and EMI executives released the first Now album, which did contain the original artists and recordings, many of who (unsurprisingly) were signed to Virgin Records and EMI, it was an immediate success amongst a particular section of the record buying public. Fast forward to May 2013 and the Now ‘brand’ released its 30th Anniversary compilation that featured some of the biggest hits that have featured over the previous 84 (yes! 84!) volumes of their compilation album format. Now 84 has become this year’s fastest selling album and the Now series has sold over 85 million copies in the UK alone. I say Now ‘brand’ because what began as a western popular music compilation album has become the biggest and best-selling popular music compilation series of all time. Even across the globe with regional variations on the theme of collecting all the big tunes in those particular regions. It has also branched out into merchandise, board games, synchronisation deals with Disney, Nintendo (Wii) and covering every possible permutation of music including Now Disco, Now Reggae, Now Classical, Now Xmas, Now Chill……  and my personal favourite Now Please Stop Releasing These Compilations! (not an actual Now release). The list is endless.

The brand has also taken the digital landscape head on and embraced the new realms of digital music platforms with a Now Spotify Channel, Now You Tube Channel and a Now iPhone app. In a new era where people have switched from CD to MP3 and digital downloads, where purchasing single tunes from albums is commonplace and economically sensible, you would think that there is no place for a compilation CD anymore? But no!  Just when you thought that this wounded animal was in its death throes it just plain refuses to die! It turns out that sales of compilation albums are on the increase as they’re cheaper than buying tracks individually. According to Jeff Moskow, Head of A&R for Now, only 15 per cent of Now’ssales are digital which means 85 per cent still come from traditional CD sales. Soundscan, which is one of the most widely used music sales tracking systems, show that digital sales in 2011 were larger than physical sales for the first time, however CDs still sell well in large chain stores and supermarkets – perhaps where Now’s target audiences regularly congregate. In its early days Now’s target audience was predominantly female until hip-hop started entering the compilations mix and now the gender split is pretty equal. What the Now brand has done is recognise the popularity of particular genres or trends in popular music (culture) amongst audiences and featured those songs and artists on their compilations. As Moskow says “electronic dance music is one of the biggest genres, and it’s growing, so that sound is reflected in our brand and songs.” “We’re not critiquing music, just curating it,” says Moskow, who has personally selected the songs on every album since Now 3. “We really don’t care what it sounds like.”

I am no longer that eighteen year old idealistic and politically motivated ‘anarcho-punk’, however I am still a fan of punk music, and always will be, and I still like to stick two fingers up to the ‘man’ and the ‘system’ in some sort of faux defiance whenever and wherever possible. Fortunately for me my favourite music form has not been tarnished with the Now brush-there is no ‘Now! That’s What I Call Anarcho-Punk …’ and let’s hope there never will be. As I said at the beginning of this blog post, two particular events happened in 1983 that, it could be argued, changed the face of popular music for better and/or for worse. You can decide for yourselves which one was for better or worse….. I know which one my money is on.

Matt Grimes is the Degree Leader for Music Industries at Birmingham City University.

Rethink Media Conference returns to Birmingham on 25 March 2014 and will provide inspiring insights, informed debate and potential solutions to the many challenges facing the fast evolving digital media sector.

Rethink Media is organised by Birmingham City University – a national leader in media education – and aims to support emerging media by showcasing new business models and the tools to improve content creation, maximise distribution and support audience engagement.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times