This is a book about 1970s pop music which avoids the usual suspects, the cool and the credible, in favour of the critically maligned and terminally unfashionable; not so much a walk on the wild side as a stroll down the middle of the road. Under the banner headline of ‘singalong pop’ Hodgkinson explores a wide variety of artists who sold millions of records without ever being even vaguely trendy: teen pop, kiddie pop and mum’s and dad’s favourites. Other pop music historians before him have seen the value in Slade, Sweet or Suzi Quatro, but he might be the first to regard You Won’t Find Another Fool Like Me by the New Seekers as a reason for turning the radio up rather than off, and the only one who has ever examined the success of Sylvia Vrethammar’s infuriatingly catchy 1974 rendition of Y Viva Espana in the context of Britain’s evolving cultural and political relationship with Europe.

The prime movers in this version of ‘70s pop were professional songwriters, producers and session musicians with groups playing a subsidiary role. Indeed, the groups were often non-existent. Songwriters and producers like Tony Macaulay, Jonathan King and John Carter churned out countless hits by a plethora of bands none of whom existed as anything more than a name on a record label. The session singer Tony Burrows appeared four times on one edition of Top of the Pops in 1970 ‘jumping from one made-up band to another’. Sometimes the groups weren’t even human but puppets or cartoon characters.

In Perfect Harmony journeys through a weird musical universe spawned from Children’s TV, cabaret clubs, advertising jingles and Saturday night variety shows. The band names and song titles roll by unceasingly as if from a recurring nightmare you’ve spent a lifetime trying to awake from: Chicory Tip, Lieutenant Pigeon, Edison Lighthouse, Pickettywitch, Brotherhood of Man, Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep and Leap Up and Down (Wave Your Knickers in the Air).

This melodic and carefree music provided escapism in a Britain of lengthening dole queues and spiralling inflation, industrial conflict, blackouts and terrorist bombs. But, as Hodgkinson observes, it also reflected the times and was capable of social commentary. Melting Pot by Blue Mink was a clumsy yet well-intentioned attack on racism (in the ironic light of posterity some of the lyrics now seem a tad racist themselves) released shortly after the notorious Rivers of Blood speech by right-wing demagogue Enoch Powell, while I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (In Perfect Harmony) offered a utopian vision of universal togetherness, albeit one that involved the consumption of sugary drinks.

This is a large but consistently entertaining book which offers a fresh take on a familiar stretch of pop history. Hodgkinson has a gift for capturing the essential strangeness and inventiveness inherent in so many ostensibly disposable records. He demonstrates a welcome lack of musical snobbery and achieves the not inconsiderable feat of arguing the social significance of the Wombles and the St Winifred’s School Choir without ever sounding remotely pretentious or, indeed, unhinged. ( )