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‘Two Tribes’ was the follow-up to the censor-baiting ‘Relax’, but it was a monster hit in its own right – even though it didn’t induce the same foaming-mouth fury as its predecessor, it still topped the UK charts for nine weeks. If only all debut singles were as self-assured as The Sundays’ inaugural bow. ‘Blue Monday’ – the best selling 12″ of all time – was New Order’s peak; a stunning explosion of drum machine beats, infectious hooks and Sumner’s deadpan vocals.
Pivotal in its use of samples, Mark Moore borrowed from songs by the likes of Gil Scott Heron, Debbie Harry and Stacey Q for this acid house banger. and Aerosmith broke down that wall in the ‘Walk This Way’ video, busting taboos and blurring the line between rap and rock. Propelled by war-hammer drums and the bomb-like stomp of him thwacking his guitar, it also has some of the Modfather’s finest lyrics to boot as its righteous damnation of the Government’s nukes-over-society policy cemented his place as one of the UK’s greatest social commentators. Ordered by date. Cup Squad, Jeff Foxworthy With Special Guest Alan Jackson, Sting Me Red (You Think You're So Clever), A Boy Brushed Red Living In Black And White, Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue (The Angry American). The genius of Graham Massey and his Manchester raveheads was to take the standard building blocks of techno and house, before twisting and molding them into something else entirely. 90s. AC/DC’s first album after the death of original singer Bon Scott proved none of that fire had gone out, and the title track was the purest example. Despite the sweet ‘n’ sugary melody and big, glacial chunks of shimmering guitar, there’s a dark underbelly – the disturbing Lolita-like tale of the romantic frisson between a 5-year-old girl and her would-be suitor, who just so happens to be a 50-year-old bloke. after a messy break up, this was a soft rock anthem which remained atop of the UK singles charts for weeks and weeks. Hair metal’s unimpeachable high point.
It would prove a natural fit for The xx ,who memorably covered the song years later.
As the cast of Grange Hill would prove later in the decade, it’s nigh-on impossible to sing an anti-drugs song without sounding like a bit of a berk. Inst. This brilliant, stately number was written by Elvis Costello as a much needed protest track against the Falklands war. Everyone saw sense soon enough and this pumping, hollering groove topped charts all over the globe. Let’s just forget that it was unforgivably plundered by Vanilla Ice at the turn of the 90s. As a storyteller, Springsteen is unsurpassed and so it was with 1982’s ‘Atlantic City’, with this particular tale pairing a musical sparseness with lyrical complexity.
It became their trademark song, and for good reason. Plucked from their colossal album ‘The Joshua Tree’, its combination of shimmering, sheeny production and Bono’s walloping vocals saw them rightfully claim their place in rock’s big leagues. Some think it’s about him and Johnny Marr, pals forever as they fall under a 10-ton truck, but it’s probably just a fantasy unfurling around the soaring strings. 1970s. Still groovy as a hepcat, ‘Sign ‘O’ The Times’ is stripped back like Sly Stone’s ‘Family Affair’; all the better to focus on a lyric that bemoans drug addiction, HIV and the damned space race. Mixing spaghetti western guitar parts, a circular bass solo and lyrics that suggested complete nuclear annihilation, it was one of Blondie’s most experimental and jaw dropping singles. None of that quiet-loud stuff here – ‘Debaser’ is full throttle throughout, celebrating Black Francis’s new favourite thing, Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali’s surrealist, eyeball-slicing movie Un Chien Andalou. It would be Dead Or Alive’s only real hit, but the influence of the disco/pop hybrid would cast a shadow over the late 80s charts in the form of S/A/W’s work with Jason/Kylie/Rick Astley etc.
Originally penned as an attempt to re-create the disco thrust of ‘Heart Of Glass’, with ‘Atomic’ Debbie Harry and keyboardist Jimmy Destri actually created something that was stranger still. A sampling masterpiece from Bomb The Bass, aka producer Tim Simenon, who lays down an explosive foundation of bowel-slackening beats before weaving in random snippets of sound from, amongst others, Thunderbirds and The Good, The Bad And The Ugly over the top. What’s a Deadhead sticker doing on the back of some posh Cadillac? David Byrne’s genius lyric about melting away in suburbia (and the existential crisis that ensues) was one thing. ‘Love Action’ boasts at least three warring synth riffs – from Ian Burden, Philip Adrian Wright and Jo Callis feeding his guitar through a Roland 700 – each of which could fuel a Top 3 hit by itself.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR8cvRgW3wk. A pretty nifty way of trying to impress your other half, that.
The switch works, as does the mesh of guitars, ringing and scratching, manic as Francis’s delivery. A club anthem on a par with its natural predecessor, Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’. That was the real master-stroke. 80s.
Holly Johnson still wasn’t playing it safe, marrying lyrics about the Cold War to the foreboding march of a keyboard being bashed to within an inch of its life. ‘Time After Time’ was demoed quickly in time for inclusion on her debut ‘She’s So Unusual’, and ended up being a key song for both Lauper’s career and the decade itself. But props, too, to Jon Bon Jovi and Desmond Child for their colossal chorus and some “gritty” blue-collar lyrics straight out of Springsteen for Dummies.
Poised between staying or leaving both The Clash and girlfriend Ellen Foley, Mick Jones’s lyrics were appropriately propulsive. Years ahead of the shoegazing scene that desecrated then tranquilised his style, Kevin Shields was building walls of noise that played around with the very concept of tempo and sound.
A slice of Freudian autography, the deceptively simple music was played by the man himself.
Touching upon the breakdown of the relationship with her boyfriend/manager, ‘Time After Time’ was a change in tack for Lauper, whose musical persona had previously been unstoppably light and frothy.
It’s a Byrdsian jangle with that essential Madchester swagger and bite from Ian Brown’s lyric, later better known for devolving into cries of “Amateurs!” as The Late Show‘s power blew.
Clue: not the ones who were going to start recording power ballads with their daughters in the video. By the time ‘We Care A Lot’ smashed onto the radio, it ushered in a new wave of anti- poser, alternative metal that didn’t live or die on the number of virgins that had been sacrificed the evening before.
Hip-hop’s biggest ticket to the mainstream came when Run-D.M.C. OHWs. And what a chorus. But he didn’t like the sound of “Andalou” so switched it to “Andalusia”. It’s all drenched in strings, nostalgia and pathos as Moz starts filling up about greased tea and grey proms, spooning on the melodrama until we’re all remembering miserable holidays in the English rain. Who left the kettle on? Where it all got going.
It’s Spinderella’s record, scratching and diving between the proto-rave synths, while Salt-n-Pepa limit themselves to the occasional quickfire verse. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmSdTa9kaiQ. These are songs you know or may know, and not obscure album tracks. Whatever the message, it was a big chart breakthrough. Sorry. Their career would sidestep into darker territories subsequently, but this was their flushed, pop peak. Originally called ‘The Chemist Façade’, Madness’ most ridiculously happy tune was actually about the horror of going to the pharmacy to buy condoms for the first time. Whatever you thought of the fashion, the 80s fuelled some absolute bangers. A Number one in 17 countries, Marc Almond and Dave Ball stepped out the British avant-garde synthpop scene to produce something that was a pure pop statement of intent.
The title track from Kate Bush’s comeback album (after only three years away – those were the days) is a hearty rush of passion, a headlong tribute to the unfettered impulses of love, heavy on the drums and swooping on the strings. It’s become a tin-whistling, string-soaked standard that lost out on the festive No.1 to the mighty Pet Shop Boys but comes back for another crack year after year. Obviously. Grace Jones’s fusion of funk and reggae, a perfect blend for the Island label, was smoothed considerably by rhythm section Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare, who slipped comfortably into the musical melting pot of the new wave scene. I swear I’ve heard a song that’s basically the same as Blinding Lights. The people of Britain were “getting angry”, and this was mirrored in the song’s haunting production and sense of dislocation. Between the 1986 vaudeville funk of ‘Parade’ and the following year’s state of the cosmos address, Prince had ditched The Revolution – in name at least – and set about taking full credit for his new clear-eyed vision. Popular Songs With Red In The Title, all popular songs and chart hits with red in the title since 1950, at Tunecaster Music Encyclopedia . Punk survivor Cherry sounded effortlessly in control as she rapped about her crew (based on the very real Buffalo crew), making the listener feel totally part of her world. John Hughes’ classic teen flick gave ‘Pretty In Pink’ a new lease of life five years after its initial release – and also spurred the Furs into re-recording a fluffier, more radio-friendly version of the track, too – but it’s the jagged original that still sounds best, with Steve Lilywhite’s visceral production lending a dark edge to the strop-pop guitars. This surreal mix – Colourbox and AR Kane, Dave Dorrell and CJ Mackintosh – produced a record that was clever enough to woo the purists, pop enough to top the singles charts and cheeky enough to get torpedoed by a writ from Stock Aitken Waterman. It floats like a butterfly, hovers like a ghost and really narked Guthrie off because it got so much more radio play than any Cocteaus track. One’ and discovered the album only had an a cappella version of the track. Nowadays, the video looks at best naff and at worst a bit pervy, as Simon Le Bon and co hop aboard a speedboat and whip out their binoculars to ogle some bikini-clad beauties.
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