Birthday Number 1s: 2011 - Glad You Came

What can I tell you about

Glad You Came - The Wanted

Well, I can tell you it was written by the team (Wayne Hector, Steve Mac) that wrote 2009's Beat Again, and that, in fact, this will not be the last August 1st Number 1 by these men, who I had not heard of before, but who clearly had quite the knack for a hit.

I heard this song on the radio a few weeks ago (we are forced to listen to R1 in the car) and it was on a Noughties Nostalgia show, or something like that.

Time passes. To me, The Wanted are still one of those new boybands, I gather the kids like them etc. In fact, they've had time to rise, to rise again, for this song to be a hit in America, to slip, to split up, for a member to win Strictly, for another member to have an inoperable brain tumour, for him to become a national treasure, for the band to reform, for him to die. The Wanted aren't one of those new bands.

When I saw The Wanted on TV, which must have been a few times, I remember that Tom Parker seemed more like a slightly grumpy indie guy than a boyband guy, which endeared him to me.

But, truthfully, I knew nor cared very little else about The Wanted. I think I was passingly confused because their first big hit was called All Time Low and there was also a US emo band called All Time Low. I probably made clips out of a couple of their songs for use in quizzes, but, still. I wouldn't say anything hit home. 

This is pretty competent dance-pop. I can certainly listen to it a few times without becoming enraged, and I imagine its been the soundtrack to a lot of responsible adults' blissful youths. 

Summer of 2011 was my last summer as a Londoner. It was the summer of the riots, which was quite a powerful sensation on the streets. I was in Tooting, where there was no looting, while in Ealing there was some stealing and in Clapham it also did happen.

Someone Like You and Price Tag were hits at the start of the year. One Direction took off at the end, Juliette and I went to Latitude and then End of the Road in early September, where we listened to Joanna Newson and we froze and her harp-playing fingers froze on a starless mid-September night in Dorset.