It was 1967. The "Summer of Love" was just around the corner. London was the epicenter of cool, and The Beatles were practically gods. On February 17, they released a double A-side single that most critics today consider the greatest in pop history: "Penny Lane" and "Strawberry Fields Forever." It was supposed to be their 12th consecutive number one.
Instead, they got blocked.
The man who did it wasn't a fellow rock star or a psychedelic visionary. He was a 30-year-old crooner with a pencil-thin mustache and a stage name borrowed from a 19th-century German opera composer. Release Me by Engelbert Humperdinck didn't just climb the charts; it parked there, refusing to budge for six weeks at the top spot and staying in the UK Top 50 for a staggering 56 weeks.
Honestly, it’s one of the weirdest "David vs. Goliath" stories in music history.
The Accidental Revolution of Release Me
Most people look back at 1967 and think of LSD, sitars, and Sergeant Pepper. But the charts tell a different story. While the youth were "tuning in and dropping out," their parents—and a massive chunk of the general public—were buying a country ballad written in 1949.
Engelbert (born Arnold George Dorsey) had been struggling for a decade under the name Gerry Dorsey. He was broke, he’d survived a bout with tuberculosis, and he was basically one step away from giving up. His manager, Gordon Mills—the same guy who shaped Tom Jones—decided a total rebrand was needed. Out went Gerry, in came the clunky, impossible-to-forget "Engelbert Humperdinck."
The song itself, Release Me, wasn't new. It had been kicked around by country artists like Ray Price and Kitty Wells for years. But Engelbert's version had something different. It had a lush, easy-listening arrangement that felt safe yet emotionally heavy.
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Why did it beat The Beatles?
There are a few theories on this. Some say the "double A-side" status of the Beatles' record actually hurt them because sales were sometimes counted separately for each track. Others, like cultural commentator Peter Hitchens, suggest that Release Me by Engelbert Humperdinck was the "real revolutionary anthem" of the sixties.
Think about the lyrics. "Please release me, let me go, for I don't love you anymore." In 1967, divorce was still a massive social taboo in Britain, but the laws were just starting to shift. The song captured a silent, simmering desire for freedom in millions of unhappy marriages. It wasn't about a psychedelic trip; it was about the crushing reality of a dead-end relationship.
The Night Everything Changed
Engelbert’s success wasn't just about the song; it was about a lucky break. He was a last-minute substitute on Sunday Night at the London Palladium, which was the biggest variety show on television.
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He performed "Release Me" to an audience of roughly 19 million people.
The next day, the record was selling 80,000 copies every 24 hours. At its peak, it was moving over 120,000 units a day. You can't fight those kinds of numbers. Even the Fab Four couldn't compete with the sheer momentum of a man who looked like a movie star and sang like a dream.
Fact-Checking the Legacy
If you look at the Guinness Book of World Records, you'll find Engelbert's name there for that 56-week chart run. It’s a feat of longevity that's hard to wrap your head around in the modern era of viral hits that disappear in three days.
Some details you might have missed:
- The B-Side Power: The flip side of the single was "Ten Guitars." In New Zealand, this song became so popular it’s practically an unofficial national anthem.
- The Writing Credits: There was a lot of legal drama over who actually wrote the song. Originally credited to Eddie Miller and Robert Yount, the royalties were caught up in court battles for decades.
- The Production: It was produced by Dick Rowe at Decca. Yes, the same Dick Rowe who famously turned down The Beatles. At least he got this one right.
What Release Me Teaches Us Today
Looking back, the success of Release Me by Engelbert Humperdinck is a reminder that the "mainstream" isn't always what the history books say it is. We love to talk about the counter-culture, but the actual culture was often sitting in a living room, listening to a balladeer sing about heartbreak.
It also proves that a great song is a great song, regardless of the genre. Since 1967, "Release Me" has been covered by everyone from Elvis Presley to Dolly Parton, and even parodied by Def Leppard. It has a melody that sticks to your ribs.
If you want to understand the 1960s, you can't just listen to Purple Haze. You have to listen to the song that kept "Penny Lane" at number two. It’s a bit of a reality check.
Actionable Next Steps
If you're looking to dive deeper into this era of music or want to experience the "Hump" phenomenon for yourself, here is how to do it:
- Listen to the Mono Mix: If you can find the original 1967 Decca mono pressing, do it. The vocal sits much more prominently in the mix, and you can hear the grit in Engelbert’s voice that the later stereo remasters sometimes smooth over.
- Watch the Palladium Footage: Seek out his early television performances. You’ll see exactly why he was able to charm an entire nation in three minutes; his stage presence was tactical and polished.
- Compare the Versions: Listen to Ray Price’s 1954 country version and then Little Esther Phillips’ 1962 soul version. It’s a masterclass in how a single piece of songwriting can be bent to fit almost any musical landscape.