End of November, 1983. I’m in a large out-of-town Tesco – back when such things as Tesco were banished to the outskirts rather than 25 yards apart – and while my mum and my sister are preoccupied with actual food shopping, I hang out in the music department and look at the new releases. I spot an album that looks a bit interesting, and slightly more polished than the usual TV advertised affairs on offer. Almost a bit posh. It featured all the big hitters of the year and my 14-year-old mind was blown.
TV advertised various artist compilations had been a mainstay of the record shop since Winnipeg-based door-to-door salesman Philip Kives invented K-Tel and began issuing such titles such as 25 Great Country Artists Singing Their Original Hits in 1966. A UK office was opened in the early 70s and soon their "20 Original Hits! 20 Original Stars!" tagline was starting to take over the albums market. The less memorable small print on the back – "To ensure the highest quality of reproduction the running times of some of the titles, as originally released, have been changed" – showed the limitations of this 20 track concept, with some tunes edited badly, and the insertion of an occasional (presumably) cheap and weird obscurity on side two due to licensing rights.
Also in the early seventies, Ronco muscled into the same territory as K-Tel, issuing various releases that were almost a direct thematic copy of their rival’s records. However, by the early eighties, it was their releases such as Super Hits 1 & 2, and Disco Daze & Disco Nites, which were double albums marketed as a "buy-one-get-one-free" offer. Immediately freeing the compilation concept away from squeezing 20 tracks onto one album, they could spread out up to 32 across four sides and do away with the editing. This was seen as quite revolutionary and gave them the edge – well, until Christmas 1983 at least. Quite literally, as Ronco’s parent company went bust in 1984.
Now That’s What I Call Music was the brainchild of the head of Licensing and Business Affairs at Virgin, Stephen Navin, and General Manager Jon Webster. They took it to Simon Draper and Peter Jamieson at EMI, who were so impressed that they linked up with Virgin to release it, making it the first time that two major labels had collaborated in such a way. The title itself – and the original porcine branding – was inspired by a 1920s advertising poster for Danish bacon featuring a pig listening to a chicken sing, which Branson had found in an antique shop and bought for Draper to have above his desk. You could see why Virgin were keen on the idea; Richard Branson was a bit annoyed with K-Tel and Ronco wanting his hits – why not do it himself?
And why not indeed? In 1983 they had quite a stellar array of acts – Culture Club, Genesis, UB40, Phil Collins, Heaven 17, Human League, Malcolm Mclaren, Mike Oldfield, Simple Minds, along with fresher turns such as Men Without Hats and the Rock Steady Crew. EMI had Duran Duran, Kajagoogoo, Limahl, Tina Turner and Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack. Throw in chart toppers from non Virgin/ EMI acts such as Bonnie Tyler, Paul Young, KC & The Sunshine Band, Rod Stewart and Men At Work, and top it off with numbers by The Cure, Madness, Will Powers, Tracey Ullman and Howard Jones, and you had an essential document of the pop year.
Of course, while impressed by the quality of hits on display, one was still wondering why the likes of New Order’s ‘Blue Monday’, Michael Jackson’s ‘Billie Jean’ or even Spandau Ballet’s megahit ‘True’ weren’t on there. And there wasn’t a sniff of the type of things that I was actually listening to in 1983 – Yazoo, The Smiths, Aztec Camera, Wham!, Echo & The Bunnymen etc. – yet somehow that made it all the more formidable and it was no wonder it shot straight to the top of the album charts for the Christmas period.
This was also some years before compilations got their own chart, so each Now instalment was an instant hit and a Number 1, with the exception of Christmas 1984 when CBS (Sony) and WEA (Warners) got their act together and released a far superior album to that year’s Now 4 – The Hits Album, gathering together Prince, Jacko, Ray Parker Jr’s ‘Ghostbusters’, George Michael, Van Halen’s ‘Jump’, ZZ Top’s ‘Gimme All Your Lovin”, SOS Band’s godlike ‘Just Be Good To Me’ and Kenny Loggins’ ‘Footloose’. While that series started wonderfully, subsequent Hits albums varied wildly in quality. Indeed, it was a case of seeing what labels ‘owned’ from the previous few months as regards the biggest singles, and while there were a few amazing Hits compilations, Now basically destroyed them at every turn saleswise, especially when they added PolyGram (Universal) a few years later and had their arsenal at their disposal.
Another key ingredient to Now‘s success was the tracklisting, and growing interest in who would be the first track on each disc. As was often the case, the biggest hit of that quarter usually kicked proceedings off. This has caused some sniffiness from, um, various artists in the past though – Queen would often only want to be track one or not included at all, the rotters, while Madonna haughtily exiled herself from the series when Now 7 denied ‘True Blue’ poll position. Everybody else – including The Smiths and The Beatles (albeit that wretched ‘Free As A Bird’ thing) – were quite happy to be on board. If Now albums are outselling an act’s own album by 20-1, then it just makes sense to relax and not be such an asshat about it.
40 years on, and everyone seems to have a Now album lurking around the house, and for some pop fans was their entry into the world of music. As is the way with growing up, you go through periods of life when the charts hold no excitement, and you’re on the look out for edgier kicks. It could be that Now 3 with Propaganda’s ‘Dr Mabuse’ lurking among ‘Smalltown Boy’ and ‘Love Wars’; Furniture’s ‘Brilliant Mind’ and Stan Ridgway’s wonky marine fable ‘Camouflage’ standing alongside Bananarama, Chris De Burgh and Billy Ocean on Now 7; Iron Maiden’s ‘Can I Play With Madness?’ in a Voice Of The Beehive and Heart sandwich on Now 11; side two of Now 17 which seems to link Happy Mondays, Primal Scream, Faith No More, House of Love and Depeche Mode together with the sub-Faces nonsense of The Quireboys. And so it went on. For the past 40 years, Now has helped to offer glimpses past the pop spectacle, making one wait for that tune that may lead them somewhere else.
Now that we’re in the download era, the franchise remains as popular as ever. Looking at the economics, it’s not hard to see why. To download the average 50 tracks individually, you’re looking at spending around £40, so it’s a no-brainer for a busy mum to shell out £12 for it in the supermarket. Even as supermarkets have not been particularly arsed with music in recent years, you’ll still find the latest Now in even the ropiest Asda.
Barring a couple of years, the release pattern for almost forever has seen them hit the shelves in spring (around Easter holidays), mid-July (just as the kids break up for summer) and mid-November (ready for Christmas). Also, it’s still one of the few albums that lots of people will still physically purchase on a regular basis. For some collectors, it may be due to the consistency of the brand, for others it’s a tangible thing containing the stuff lurking about in the hard drive. Plus! With the licensing lasting for only three years, there has become a huge market for collectors shelling out silly money for rare editions. There’s the original Now 4 CD – the brand’s first venture onto the compact disc which is currently on sale on Discogs for $600(!) – or the rare vinyl (the last edition was Now 35 – currently $50+), and bizarrely the cassettes (the last one was Now 64) going for daft money in resale markets.
The ever canny Now brand has been hip to diversifying in recent years, capitalising on the pop-crazed youngsters of yore with a series of superb year-based, um, Yearbooks, and spreading its wings to issue stuff from the pre-1983 Now era. There’s been the return of the brand on vinyl for collectors too, although the regular numbered editions remain a CD staple as pressing them up on vinyl would mean a delay of anything up to six months, therefore somewhat ruining the instantness and importance of the pop climate. While Now diversified into Summer and Christmas editions, with 1985’s Now The Christmas Album effectively inventing the Christmas pop canon as we know it – seriously, even Elton John himself probably had trouble recalling his 1973 Number 24 bauble ‘Step Into Christmas’ back in 1985 what with the drugs and that – but it has since become an annual Top Tenner each December thanks to shops having something slightly groovier to play rather than some gloopsome old carols. Now has also gone international, with the North American variant being the longest-running of the lot currently at volume 87. In recent years you’ve been able to find specialist editions based on synth pop, high energy, wonky 80s alternative, disco, punk & new wave, country, soul, Eurovision and more. This year alone has seen over 40 different titles alongside Now 114, 115 and 116, including a whopping four-volume celebratory release featuring almost 300 hits (and a more concise round-up with a mere 100) bookended by Culture Club’s ‘Karma Chameleon’ and Kylie’s ‘Padam Padam’.
The regular numbered editions have expanded too. Recent volumes have featured an inflated 50 tracks mainly because thanks to TikTok, everyone’s been making records that are approximately two minutes long. While “thanks” to streaming, no one seems to have the jiggins as to what constitutes a ‘hit’ these days, Now still manages to snapshot the best of what’s been happening in pop from the last three months, and also shown that while streaming is great and all that, there’s still a hunger for a curated two-disc round-up.
The brand shows no signs of stopping anytime soon, having laid waste to any potential rivals a long time ago. The strength of Now is knowing what the people want and while there are still very many fans out there who get giddy with every release. There are dedicated podcasts such as Back To Now, collectors groups, YouTube channels and noticeboards obsessed with the past and future releases. There are several generations of fans predicting what will be on the next volume, and some lovely and endearing youngsters who’ll hoover up everything and excitedly post on socials that they’ve been down HMV and bought whatever edition came out that day, be it 12x80s:1981, Now Millennium 2002/3 or a 1973 Yearbook. It’s proof positive that pop music remains important, and if anyone has truly understood that over the last 40 years, it’s Now.
Happy Birthday Now!
