Yes, but which chart?... Photograph: Linda Nylind
The citadels of pop have been crumbling at such a pace that it's hard to keep track of which institutions still exist, and which have been wiped out by the digital whirlwind. Top of the Pops, Smash Hits, the Hammersmith Palais: all gone, or in the case of the Palais, about to go. The official singles chart: still with us, but for how much longer, now that HMV has decided as of this week to no longer use the chart in its shops?
HMV was the only major music retailer that still stocked singles according to the official chart (the one compiled by the Official Charts Company and used on the Radio 1 Chart Show, another institution that has spent the last few years trying to redefine itself), but new chart rules presented the chain with a problem. Digital-only releases are now included in the Top 40, but shops can only stock physical releases. Six entries in this week's Top 40 are only available digitally, which would have left HMV with empty spaces on its shelves. Consequently, it decided to abandon the official chart and compile its own disc-and-jewel-case list.
"It's a complicated situation for the official chart now," says Paul Williams of Music Week. "None of the big retailers supports it, and it doesn't have the weekly outlet of Top of the Pops any more - its only main outlet is the Chart Show. But there are so many other charts now, like Hit 40 UK, that it's hard for the public to work out which is the official one."
So it is, in effect, a free-for-all out there, with the official 40 just one of many charts, and no longer commanding the respect it once did from every teenager in the land. Every one of us who was ever 14 ought to feel a pang. The singles chart used to be one of the navigation points of adolescence - its authority was absolute, making it the first stage in shaping fledgling musical taste.
Even when pop-happy 14-year-olds became elitist 18-year-olds, the singles chart still had its function, as a standard against which to measure personal coolness. Since the sullen indie bands beloved of 18-year-olds never used to get into the chart, it became a point of principle to scan the Top 40 each week and sneer at the bubblegum saddos who did achieve hit singles. It was a matter of pride not to own anything that had been within sniffing distance of the Top 10.
With no structure to rebel against, how will the pubescent downloaders of today mature into the exclusivist snobs of tomorrow? And think about this, too: how will anoraks have those pub arguments about whether or not some single ever got to No 1? With so many charts to choose from, there may no longer be a definitive answer.
