What is the most forgotten about number one in UK history?
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(Credits: Far Out)
For some musicians, achieving a number one is the peak of success. The ultimate metric for making it. The literal cherry on top of the cake.
While in many cases, that rings true, for others, it’s anything but a real signifier of genuine artistry. Take some of the biggest names of all time, like Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell. Two of the biggest, most culturally important artists of all time, and yet neither of them scored very well in the chart department. But with people like them, it doesn’t matter. Because, as we’ve seen, impact is sometimes infinitely better than simple numbers.
That said, it still means a lot to some musicians. Scoring that top spot on the charts is, to some, like finally crossing the finish line in first place, the ultimate signal that their name actually means something – that they won’t be forgotten. Even if it’s a one-hit wonder, it means something because it got people talking once, cemented their place in history, however fleeting.
But the difference there is that they did actually mean something. The weirder ones are the ones that become number ones only to vanish almost immediately after, without a trace, without even registering they were there in the first place. Like a matrix glitch that was barely even there to begin with. We’ve had loads of these cases throughout music history, each as strange as the last.
And because of their elusive nature, it’ll be truly impressive if anyone actually remembers any of them, even if it vaguely passed them by at the time. But what about the ultimate ghost, the most forgotten about number-one in all of history, the one that came and went without anyone so much as batting an eye?

What is the most forgotten about number one in UK history?
We could talk endlessly about the forgotten hits and why they seemingly vanished. Like Glenn Medeiros’ ‘She Ain’t Worth It’ which, despite spending four weeks at the top and even becoming certified gold, disappeared without a trace. Or the George Martin-produced ‘You’re Driving Me Crazy’ by The Temperance Seven. Or the strange case of The Scaffold’s ‘Lily the Pink’, which faltered even with some of the biggest names in the business in its credits.
But the most fleeting that hit the UK scene without much to show for it was Telly Savalas’ ‘If’ in 1975, which, although charming British audiences for a very small (very brief) whisper of time, was as good as nonexistent the moment it left the charts, dissolving in to the ether and never to be discussed ever again. But other than being a really strange listen to begin with, there’s another thing that probably explains why it didn’t really do anything for anyone, then or now.
And that’s the fact that nobody seems to be able to make sense of it. Salavas might not be known for his stints in music, but his cover of ‘If’ makes little sense, contextually, culturally – why did he do it? And for what gain? Maybe he simply fancied it, or maybe it came from a place of boredom, from wanting to see how people would react if he did something completely left-field and unsuspecting.
Either way, it seemed pretty pointless. Or maybe that, above all, was the point.
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