If your idea of foreign pop is Sylvia singing Eviva Espana in 1973 then you’re in for a treat with this mind boggling cornucopia of old 45s from yesteryear. Sylvia, by the way, was about as Spanish as Scottish salmon; born Sylvia Vrethammar in Sweden, she was like the Hawaian singers who first hit the UK charts in the early fifties, a foreigner masquerading as a foreigner! (The Hawaian singers were assembled in the UK by a relative of Mendelssohn.)
But prior to the Beatles, the actual provenance of the early non-British interlopers to the charts was dubious. This was a time of cabaret, of mix and match entertainment where you could get a decent spot on a television show simply by walloping yourself with a tea tray, playing tunes on a garden hose, blowing up hot water bottles or walking across a stage knocking your knees. So it didn’t matter if that calypso was sung by two aristocratic Danes, or the Singing Nun was kicked out of the nunnery for being a lesbian.
By the time Demis Roussos arrived with his bass figure and soprano vocal chords anything was possible. Anyone for Demis ran out of contributions by the time it got to the 80s. No doubt because today’s freaks usually come from the US, twerking their way around various vacant-eyed halfwits at Superbowl’s half time. We don’t need weirdos from Belgium and Luxembourg anymore, we produce enough in our own backyard.