If you only know “Red Red Wine” as the laid-back sing-along that drifts from beach bars and backyard speakers every summer, you’re in good company. For millions, the song is synonymous with UB40’s lilting, reggae-pop groove. But the tune’s life began very differently—close-miked and melancholy, written and sung by Neil Diamond in 1967. Over two decades, “Red Red Wine” traveled a winding route: from a somber American ballad to a Jamaican-inspired rocksteady cover, and finally into a 1980s chart-topping phenomenon that turned UB40 into worldwide stars. Here’s the full story—how it started, the pivotal reinventions, and why this deceptively simple song still works its magic.
The original pour: Neil Diamond’s 1967 heartache song
Neil Diamond wrote and recorded “Red Red Wine” in 1967 for his second LP, Just for You. Lyrically, it’s plainspoken and blue: a narrator reaches for wine as a salve for heartbreak. Bang Records issued it as a single (with added backing vocals that Diamond didn’t supervise), and in 1968 it peaked at No. 62 on the Billboard Hot 100—a modest showing that hinted at the song’s durability more than its destiny. In this first incarnation, “Red Red Wine” is not breezy at all; it’s a sad, folk-rock confessional built for a lonely room rather than a packed dancefloor.
As the years ticked by, other artists heard potential in the melody. There were pop and MOR takes (including a U.S. Hot 100 entry for Vic Dana), but the turn that would matter most arrived not from Los Angeles or London’s Tin Pan Alley, but from the Caribbean diaspora.
The reggae blueprint: Tony Tribe and the rocksteady reframing
In 1969, Jamaican-born singer Tony Tribe cut a rocksteady version of “Red Red Wine” in the UK. His single reached No. 46 on the UK chart and, crucially, reset how many musicians and fans would hear the tune—from country-tinged lament to skanking off-beat lamentation with a smile at the edges. That Tribe cover would become the template for future reggae interpretations and, as it happens, the version that UB40 themselves knew and loved.
This reframing matters. Tribe’s cut didn’t change the lyric’s sorrow—wine is still the chosen anesthetic—but the groove softened the ache. Where Diamond’s delivery invites you to brood, rocksteady invites you to sway. It’s a subtle pivot that explains much of what would follow.
UB40’s Labour of Love: from deep-cut crate-digging to No. 1
Fast-forward to early-1980s Birmingham. UB40—a multi-ethnic British band steeped in reggae, dub, and sharp-eyed politics—decide to make a covers album saluting the Jamaican singles that raised them. That record, Labour of Love (released September 1983), pairs reverence for their influences with a pop instinct: present the songs clearly, warmly, accessibly. Among the selections, “Red Red Wine” stood out—not least because the band believed it was a Jamaican tune (they’d learned it via Tony Tribe). Only later, during publishing clearances, did they discover the “N. Diamond” on the label wasn’t “Negus Diamond,” but Neil Diamond.
Produced by the band with Ray “Pablo” Falconer, UB40’s take leans into a relaxed one-drop pulse, sinuous bass, chiming keys, and tidy horns. Ali Campbell’s airy lead plays it straight while Terence “Astro” Wilson adds a toasting break (the “DJ” verse that starts “you make me feel so fine”). That toast became a signature—though the single that first stormed the UK charts actually trimmed the rap for radio length.
Released as the lead single from Labour of Love in August 1983—with “Sufferin’” on the B-side—“Red Red Wine” shot to No. 1 in the UK and ranked among the year’s best-sellers. In Britain, UB40 had found the sweet spot: faithful enough to honor rocksteady roots, polished enough for Top of the Pops.
The strange American journey: from #34 (1984) to #1 (1988)
Across the Atlantic, the ascent took longer. The original U.S. single, edited without Astro’s toast, peaked at No. 34 in March 1984—respectable but far from a smash. Then radio alchemy intervened. In 1988, a Phoenix programmer added the full version (toast included) to heavy rotation; momentum snowballed, A&M reissued the single nationwide, and on October 15, 1988, “Red Red Wine” reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Five years after its UK triumph, UB40 had their first American chart-topper. It even landed at No. 39 on Billboard’s 1988 year-end list.
That re-release did more than correct an earlier under-performance. It codified which “Red Red Wine” the world would remember: the toast-extended, blissed-out glide that made reggae feel effortless to pop audiences. In hindsight, the DJ verse wasn’t a garnish; it was a key.
Center stage: Mandela’s birthday, Wembley, and a song for the moment
On June 11, 1988—months before the U.S. chart peak—UB40 performed “Red Red Wine” at the Nelson Mandela 70th Birthday Tribute at Wembley Stadium, a global broadcast that mixed celebration with political urgency. The band slotted their hit between more explicitly activist songs, proof that even a tune about heartbreak and a glass of merlot could feel unifying in the right setting. It’s a snapshot of UB40’s role at the time: ambassadors for reggae’s warmth and pulse on the biggest stages available.
One million and counting: the UK sales milestone
“Red Red Wine” is the kind of single that never entirely leaves the culture. It sells a bit every summer, gets rediscovered at parties, and accumulates streams season after season. In September 2014, the Official Charts Company announced that total UK sales had passed one million, a milestone that confirms how thoroughly the UB40 version has entered the national songbook. In 2023, it placed on the OCC’s all-time best-selling singles list as well.
What Neil Diamond thinks—and how he now sings it
Many writers have complicated relationships with their most famous covers. Not Neil Diamond here. He’s praised UB40’s “Red Red Wine” as one of his favorite interpretations of his work—and, tellingly, when he performs the song live he often uses a reggae arrangement influenced by UB40’s version (you can hear that feel on his 1994 concert release Live in America). It’s a rare case of a cover version feeding back to alter the composer’s own performance style.
Why this cover works: the alchemy of mood, groove, and voice
So why does UB40’s “Red Red Wine” feel inevitable—like the song was waiting for this exact treatment? A few elements.
1) The lyric’s emotional “tilt.” The words are simple and literal: wine as a crutch for a broken heart. In Diamond’s hands, that directness reads as confessional. In UB40’s, the same lines float over a rhythmic sway that sounds like acceptance—not defeat, but resignation with grace. The emotional center hasn’t changed; the emotional presentation has.
2) Groove as empathy. The band’s one-drop beat and round, legato bassline lace the sadness with warmth. Even the horns feel like a reassuring arm over the shoulder—never blaring, always conversational. Listeners who might shy from country-folk lament find that lament easier to hold when it rides a reggae skank.
3) The toast as narrative release. Astro’s DJ verse is playful, but it isn’t frivolous. It breaks the interior monologue and lets the singer step outside himself for a moment of rhythmic affirmation. When radio programmers cut it in 1983, the record felt shorter and slighter. When American stations embraced the full version in 1988, audiences responded to that extra burst of personality.
4) Ali Campbell’s timbre. Campbell’s slightly nasal, feather-light tenor is perfect for songs that need to feel weightless without losing their center. On “Red Red Wine,” he never oversells; he lets the rhythm section do the heavy lifting and rides the pocket.
5) Production choices that age well. Labour of Love flirts with period touches (LinnDrum textures and synth bass here and there), but “Red Red Wine” keeps its palette clean: steady drums, fat bass, patient keys, clipped guitar, polite brass. The mix is transparent, which is a big reason the track still sounds fresh on modern playlists.
From cover to calling card
UB40 scored multiple global hits, but “Red Red Wine” is the one that became a calling card—so much so that their later No. 1 cover of “(I Can’t Help) Falling in Love With You” often gets introduced to new listeners because of “Red Red Wine.” It’s also one of the songs that helped reggae—already beloved in the UK—become broader pop currency in the U.S. radio mainstream during the late ’80s.
A note on versions: what to hear (and why)
If you’re building a mini-playlist to appreciate the song’s journey, try these in order:
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Neil Diamond (1967), the original studio version from Just for You: spare, bittersweet, and instructive—you hear the emotional bones of everything that followed.
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Tony Tribe (1969), the rocksteady cover: the pivot point that reimagines the groove and, arguably, the song’s future.
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UB40 (1983), album version from Labour of Love with Astro’s toast: the definitive cut for many fans.
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UB40 (1983), UK single edit without the toast: interesting historically because it’s the version that first hit No. 1 in Britain.
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UB40 (1988), U.S. re-release (full version): the mix that went No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100.
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UB40 live at Wembley, June 1988 (Mandela 70th Birthday Tribute): context matters, and this performance shows how the song functions as communal uplift.
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Neil Diamond, live reggae arrangement (hear the feel on Live in America): proof that the cover reshaped the composer’s own approach.
The bottom line
“Red Red Wine” isn’t just a hit; it’s a case study in how songs travel. Diamond wrote a straightforward, aching confession that did fine but not spectacular business in late-’60s America. A Jamaican-UK rocksteady cut reframed its heartbeat. Then a Birmingham band—hungry to honor the music they loved—poured the tune into a supple reggae groove and took it around the world, twice: first to the summit of the UK chart in 1983, and then, improbably, to No. 1 in the U.S. five years later. Along the way it picked up a memorable toast, a Wembley Stadium moment, and the blessing of the man who wrote it.
However you prefer your pour—sturdy folk ballad, rocksteady classic, or warm reggae-pop—this is one vintage with legs. And like the drink in its title, the song seems to keep opening up new notes the longer it breathes.
Key facts & sources:
Neil Diamond’s original (1967) and Hot 100 peak at No. 62; UB40’s UK No. 1 (1983) and U.S. No. 1 (Oct. 15, 1988); Tony Tribe’s 1969 rocksteady version; Labour of Love background and production; the single’s B-side “Sufferin’”; UK million-seller status in 2014; Mandela 70th tribute performance; Diamond’s later reggae-style live renditions.
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Lyrics
Red, red wine
Go to my head
Make me forget that I
Still need her so
Red, red wine
It’s up to you
All I can do, I’ve done
Mem’ries won’t go
Mem’ries won’t go
I’d have sworn
That with time
Thoughts of you would leave my head
I was wrong
Now I find
Just one thing makes me forget
Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Don’t let me be alone
It’s tearin’ apart
My blue, blue heart
I’d have sworn
That with time
Thoughts of you would leave my head
I was wrong
Now I find
Just one thing makes me forget
Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Don’t let me be alone
It’s tearin’ apart
My blue, blue heart
Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Don’t let me be alone
It’s tearin’ apart
My blue, blue heart