Williams’s return to Take That was announced in pitch-perfect style with portentous verses, singalong chorus and lyrics that commented on the improbability of their reunion – “They said we’d never dance again”. “We were the foolish, fearless … We didn’t know it wouldn’t last.”Ĭirca 1992. Which brings us to the prosaically titled When We Were Young, an affecting giant-chorused song with a distinctly Abba-esque melody. The re-formed Take That were never afraid to tug at their long-term fans’ heartstrings by writing about the band’s tumultuous past. That said, they are sometimes better than you might expect, as demonstrated by Giants, a slice of super-hooky, thoroughly modern arena-ready pop. Since the departure of Jason Orange and Williams, Take That’s releases have tended towards the serviceable rather than the spectacular, an excuse to tour rather than an end in themselves. Pretty Things is a low-key highlight: subtle electropop, over which Williams self-deprecatingly ruminates on ageing, marriage and the loss of youthful charm. Progress – which saw Robbie Williams temporarily return to the fold – is, by some distance, Take That’s best album: surprisingly experimental, devoid of their trademark big ballads. (From left) Howard Donald, Gary Barlow, Mark Owen and Jason Orange on stage at the band’s opening night of their Ultimate Tour 2006 in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. So it is with the beautiful, acoustic Wooden Boat, which sounds oddly like the Lilac Time, the folk-rock band fronted by Robbie Williams’s solo collaborator Stephen Duffy. With the best will in the world, Take That are no one’s idea of a great albums band, but, just occasionally, something worth salvaging slips into the bits between the hits. It’s clearly not what most Take That fans buy their records expecting to hear, which is part of its appeal. The Stuart Price-produced Love Love is appealingly off the wall – squelching synthesisers, a bizarrely stentorian Gary Barlow vocal, an octave leaping chorus. Take That were never weirder than on Progressed, the EP of offcuts appended to their 2010 album Progress. The bleeping analogue synths and samples of cheering crowds are audibly influenced by the KLF’s 3am Eternal. Understandably overshadowed by their later hits – including the disco cover versions It Only Takes a Minute, Could It Be Magic and Relight My Fire, not included in this list of original compositions – Take That’s second single is both a great little song and a charming period-piece snapshot of early 90s British pop.

An overlooked single from The Circus, Hold Up a Light transcends its slightly hokey desire to provoke live audiences to, well, hold up a light, thanks to Mark Owen’s slightly doleful vocal, a lovely string arrangement and an unexpected burst of Queen-y double-tracked guitar.

No ones perfect no ones worth it song