Category Archives: Songs from 1980

Album: single 1980, Wasn’t Tomorrow Wonderful? 1982

Justification: So, should we wrap this up with #500? Seems like a nice round number, and it’ll be on my birthday too. Hmm.

Waitresses = gingham tablecloth. This brief to the graphic designer just writes itself.

Anyway, before we start worrying about ending this adventure of pointless bloggery, let’s go back to one of the most annoying-slash-brilliant songs of the early 80s. The Waitresses are known for two reasons: this, and for doing the theme song for the TV series Square Pegs, and it’s yet another song with a sax solo that does little to enhance the song. The comparison I was going to draw was with ‘Pretty in Pink’ by the Psychedelic Furs, but then a little lightbulb went off in my head and I realised both solos were played by the same man: Mars Williams was roped in for a Furs tour in 1982ish but stayed on for most of the 80s after the Waitresses unexpectedly split. SAME MAN, BOTH SOLOS. Spooky.

And it turns out that the Waitresses were pretty much the lynchpin of North American music in the 80s. Want more eerie links to past SYSRTBIIAs? We can leave out the fact the band were from Akron, Ohio – home to Devo – and note instead that vocalist Patty Donahue briefly quit the band during the recording of their second album, replaced by Holly Beth Vincent who was fronting Holly & the Italians at the time. H&tT haven’t been in here before, but one of their songs has: specifically, ‘Tell That Girl To Shut Up’, as covered by Transvision Vamp.

Want more? Bassist Tracy Wormworth has been live and occasionally studio bassist for the B-52s for the last three decades, late-period sax player Ralph Carney toured with They Might Be Giants (and is uncle of Patrick from the Black Keys, no less), and their drummer was Billy freakin’ Ficca out of Television. IT ALL FITS TOGETHER SO NEATLY.

How can I give this thing up? It’s so damn much fun.

Oh, and the Waitresses are one of the few bands in here that never reunited – though for unfortunate reasons. Donahue died of lung cancer at the age of 40 in 1996, following a lifetime of heavy smoking. Seriously, people I love, stop doing that.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: Kim Deal’s side-project-to-a-side-project The Amps dropped the awesome ‘Tipp City’.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

489. Lloyd Cole & the Commotions: Jennifer She Said (4 July)

490. Headless Chickens: Donde Esta la Pollo (5 July)

491. Visage: Fade to Grey (6 July)

492. Modest Mouse: Satellite Skin (9 July)

493. The Trammps: Disco Inferno (10 July)

Album: Visage, 1980

Justification: Being a New Romantic means never having to say “do I look fucking ridiculous in this?”

See? It’s the 30s – BUT IN SPACE!

Steve Strange was good at looking fucking ridiculous too. He was hosting club nights during the brief post-punk heyday of the genre and got it into his head that he should totally be a pop star. Hence he enlisted a bunch of surprsingly high calibre folks – his pal Rusty Egan from the Rich Kids, Rusty’s bandmate Midge Ure, Billy Currie from Ultravox and everyone from Magazine bar Howard Devoto – to be his band. He also got a song that Egan, Ure and Chris Payne (from Gary Numan‘s band) had knocked up called ‘Fade to Grey’, which became a huge hit and heralded a brief dawn for the band, somewhat undercut by the fact that almost all of them had more important things to be doing (Ure had joined Ultravox by this point and was about to make them an international pop concern; Magazine were doing their best work despite John McGough leaving for Siouxsie & the Banshees), leaving Egan and Strange to struggle on for a few years and two more albums before calling it a day in 1983.

Strange is now fronting a new version of the band, having spent much of 80s and 90s concentrating on heroin, and occasionally threatens to make a new album.

Whatever the birth pangs around this band, this is still one hell of a song. And an unbelievably hilarious clip.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: Carter USM were railing against the evils of the early 90s in ‘The Only Living Boy in New Cross’.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: In what could well be a little bit of foreshadowing for my party tomorrow, it’s Ha;; & Oates’ mighty ‘Out of Touch’.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

486. The Passions: I’m in Love with a German Film Star (26 June)

487. Sly Fox: Let’s Go All The Way (28 June)

488. Ween: Push th’ Little Dasies (29 June)

489. Lloyd Cole & the Commotions: Jennifer She Said (4 July)

490. Headless Chickens: Donde Esta la Pollo (5 July)

Album: The Age of Plastic, 1980

Justification: I had spent years – YEARS, people – wondering whose song this was. It was the sort of musical sting that turned up often in shows like Simon Townsend’s Wonder World when they’d have a story about, say, responsible pet ownership and needed something to accompany a montage of kids bathing dogs, or if Beyond 2000 were doing a piece about new developments in industrial detergents. It was upbeat and catchy and the chorus went “clean clean!” every few seconds, thereby fulfilling the important duty of appearing to be about whatever’s on the screen while having an actual intent that was dramatically different – as in any time that the Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’ is used in a context not about a creepy, obsessively-masturbating stalker, for example. Keeping your pet free of dirt and parasites is important, but so is violent paranoid schizophrenia – which appears to be the lyrical thrust of this particular tune.

So, that’s where you know it from – but Buggles? That guy with the stupid glasses doing the singing is Trevor Horn, who at this point was just about to join Yes, then change the face of popular music by producing (or, as many contended, creating all the music for) Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and then maintain a bafflingly diverse production schedule for the next thirty years (including Belle & Sebastian‘s Dear Catastrophe Waitress, bizzarely enough). But more important in terms of Buggles’ contribution to the culture is their debut single, released the previous year: the mighty ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’, which would probably be on this list since it’s awesome, were there the slightest chance than anyone had to rediscover it. And it was doing the research for whether I could come up with an angle to justify ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’ that I rediscovered ‘Clean, Clean’. Thanks, me!

Buggles have, remarkably, reunited and have been touring in the UK. The mind… well, you know.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE DISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: Go through the 1980 archives, since it was a weekend. Off you go.

Album: The Correct Use of Soap, 1980

Justification: I started writing this lovely little potted history of Magazine, with Howard Devoto leaving Buzzcocks and forming a new band and blah blah blah, and then remembered I’d already done it, only probably not quite as well. So, um, follow that link. In the meantime, let’s focus on Magazine’s greatest song, the song which I’m pretty sure formed the basis of everything that the House of Love was to do during their career, the song that I’d completely forgotten about until a few years ago when Morrissey did a (respectful, very decent) cover of as a b-side for ‘The Youngest was the Most Loved’ because I still buy Morrissey singles like the sad fanboy I am, and because his b-sides are generally so very good. I mean, honestly: ‘Sister I’m a Poet’, ‘Disappointed’, ‘Jack the Ripper’, ‘The Loop’, ‘Nobody Loves Us’, ‘Girl Most Likely To’… God, so many of my favourite Morrissey songs are b-sides. And don’t even get me started on the Smiths.

Sorry, we were talking about Magazine. Right.

OK, you know that Barry Adamson played bass with Magazine before the Bad Seeds and the film composing, right? And John McGeogh quit after this album to join the Banshees? God they were good. They existed for one more album before splitting in 1981, with Devoto forming Luxuria and then fucking music off altogether for the best part of a decade. And if Magazine were to bring their recentish UK reunion to Australia, I would be there in a heartbeat.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: Headless Chickens have a couple of friends and they’re both called Dave, according to ‘Gaskrankinstation’.

Album: The Blues Brothers Soundtrack, 1980

Justification: I remember reading an article once that argued that The Blues Brothers was the first film rescued by the home video revolution. It’s made a mint over the years but utterly flopped on theatrical release but it was a staple of my childhood by virtue of the fact that a) the Streets were early adopters when it came to technology and we had a VCR, and b) the video hire place in Flagstaff Hill had about 15 titles, at least four of which were The Blues Brothers. And it stands up – it’s still damned funny, the soundtrack is still kick arse (and introduced a lot of middle class white kids to people like John Lee Hoooker and Aretha Franklin, which is no mean feat) and to this day it’s regular viewing on tipsy evenings when Anne and I don’t fancy going to bed just yet.

This scene is not necessarily my favourite, but this is where you – the viewer – are made aware that the Blues Brothers Band were actually a thing rather than Jake and Elwood’s mad fever dream. And watch Murphy Dunne make that tambourine sing!

The song, by the way, was first released in 1963 by Chicago combo The Five Du-Tones, and their version is on the Hairspray soundtrack (the John Waters film, not the remake). Also, one of the writers was Andre Williams. Yes, THAT Andre Williams, the one that did The Black Godfather with the Dirtbombs. Amazing.

THIS TIME IN 2010: The Sinead O’Connor single that nobody remembers: ‘Jump in the River’.

Album: McCartney II, 1980

Justification: For a second there it looked like the former creative axis of the Beatles might actually be about to do good late period work. Paul was in the separation period before Wings’ 1981 divorce and made a follow up to his 100% solo debut from a decade earlier, discovering the liberating mood of the new wavers of the time (as did John Lennon, galvanised into action by this single and the B-52s‘ ‘Rock Lobster’), but any renaissance was cut short by Lennon’s murder and McCartney’s retreat back into cloying balladry*. Fun fact: the album probably wouldn’t have been released at all were it not for McCartney’s Japan marijuana bust and subsequent retreat away from touring to faff about in his studio. Thanks, drugs!

Anyway: this and ‘Temporary Secretary’ are awesome songs and McCartney II was a tantalising hint of what might have been had Paul kept up the eh-whatever-happens attitude rather than getting shmaltzed up with his next album Tug of War and its number one hit ‘Ebony & Ivory’.

My dad adored this song and video, and I remember seeing McCartney on television showing how he recorded the song, looping instruments one atop the other, and immediately wanted access to the massive, expensive and impossibly complicated technology which allowed him to create such a thing. Now, of course, it’s a pedal.

Oh, and “Plastic Macs” band name was obviously a cheeky wink to Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band. You got that, right?

Also, great though the clip is, and amusing though the Ron Mael From Sparks impersonation might be, I can’t help thinking that this clip might have been the start of the “hey, acting, I’m great at that!” impulse that was to lead to his self-produced film Give My Regards To Broad Street, a plotless disaster destined to lose him millions only a couple of years hence.

THIS TIME IN 2010: Weekend. Let’s trip through the 1980 archives together, shall we?

*OK, yes, this album did contain ‘Waterfalls’ which is a pretty cloying ballad. My point still stands.

Album: Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, 1980

Justification: It took me a long, long time to get into any sort of punk music. It was similar with horror films, actually: up until midway through high school I had an idea of what they were and decided I’d hate them, without actually testing out whether my assumptions about how aggressive punk music was/how scary horror films are had any basis in reality. And I discovered that neither were nearly as aggressively confronting as I’d thought, and both were a lot more fun that I’d realised.

In a neat reversal of the traditional route, I borrowed their debut album Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables off my best friend’s younger brother (cheers, Jules) and very swiftly realised that Jello Biafra was funny as hell (‘Let’s Lynch the Landlord’ is a work of comedy genius) as well as a satirist of whom Swift would have approved (there’s a cultural studies thesis in a comparative reading of ‘A Modest Proposal’ with ‘Kill the Poor’). But this was the classic, the breakout, the thing what people play when they program Rage, if only because of that descending bass riff and Biafra’s “Pol! Pot!” chant. And while most punk bands were railing against one target, the Kennedys managed to bitch out both righteous yuppies AND the Khmer Rouge. That’s efficiency, right there.

The band were gone by 1986, lamenting that the punk scene had become a haven for racists and thugs, and then the non-Biafra trio successfully sued Biafra and their old label, Alternative Tentacles, for non-payment of royalties (which had been an accounting mistake, but still…). The Biafra-less band still tours, but let’s face it: what good is that?

Supposedly there is/was a hotel built in Phnom Penh by the Holiday Inn chain, which would literally be the Holiday Inn Cambodia. I’m pretty sure it’s a joke, but I’d like to think it’s true.

THIS TIME IN 2010: Oingo Boingo were getting spooky with ‘Stay’.

Album: New Clear Days, 1980

Justification: Here’s something about which you’re probably unaware: one-hit wonders the Vapors were considered to be the future of UK music* – so much so that Paul Weller’s dad John (who managed the Jam) and the Jam’s bassist Bruce Foxton managed them. And while outside of the UK they’re known wholly and solely for this song, they did have some other (lowish) charting singles in their homeland, although even they knew this was their money shot (which is why they didn’t make it their debut single, presciently fearing they’d be labelled a one-hit wonder). And I use the term “money shot” advisedly, since ‘Turning Japanese’ is, it is generally accepted, about wanking.

If this is true – and the internet’s pretty certain that it is – then there’s precious little of the subversive joy that pervades other pro-masturbation tunes like Cyndi Lauper’s ‘She Bop’, or even the Fauves’ ‘Self Abuser’. “I’ve got a picture, I’d like a million of them all ‘round myself”, is fine and dandy, but “I want a doctor to take a picture / So I can look at you from inside as well” neatly foreshadows the creepily gynaecological turn that pornography was to take in the coming decades.

In fact, for a catchy little pop song, there’s a lot that’s distinctly uncomfortable about ‘Turning Japanese’, starting with that faux-Oriental guitar riff and not ending with David Fenton’s new-wave mullet in the video. Oh, and the title? Supposedly, ahem, it’s about how one screws up one’s eyes at the point of orgasm. The band have never confirmed that this is the actual meaning of the song, mind, possibly because they didn’t want to be spat at in the street. No wonder the band split before 1981 was out.

Still: damn, but it’s a catchy tune.

*Yes, despite the spelling, they were British: the lack of a U in their name was, supposedly, a deliberate attempt to appear American. You know, as you do.

THIS TIME IN 2010: The Lightning Seeds were getting fey and wistful with ‘Pure’.

Album: Dark Room, 1980

Justification: OK, this one might take some explaining.

See, the 80s was the heyday for pub rock in Australia. Yet like any cultural movement there were definite strata, with bands that it was OK to like and the ones that were just playing to yobs. Articulating the subtle differences between the audience of drunk, shirtless men with terrible haircuts going nuts to Hunters & Collectors and the audience of drunk, shirtless men with terrible haircuts going nuts to the Radiators would have been difficult for me even if I hadn’t been a child at the time, but even when I was at school some sort of weird, musical class divide was already at work. I somehow knew, having never been in a rock’n'roll venue in my life, that the Hoodoo Gurus, Radio Birdman, the Saints et al were all cool and credible, and Cold Chisel, the Choirboys and Rose Tattoo were lowest-common-denominator rock made by and for idiots. It wasn’t until much, much later that I realised how ridiculously elitist I’d been (not to say just plain wrong: for fuck’s sake, Cold Chisel had five songwriters! Five! And they all wrote at least one hit!), and one of the last bands whose appeal became clear to me was the Angels.

That’s weirder than it seems since I played Angels songs in my first high school band (specifically ‘Marseilles’ and ‘After the Rain’: our guitarist Scott was a fan, and my trade off was that we also played ‘Big on Love’ by Models and ‘World War’ by the Cure), but I think hearing ‘Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again?’ at every Blue Light Disco and school dance from years six through eleven solidified the notion that Angels appealed to the most base elements of the music-lovin’ crowd.

It’s only now that the wit of the band is clear to me. The taut songwriting, the deft and economical lyrics, the genius onstage personae (with the completely motionless guitarist Rick Brewster acting as the foil to the hyper-theatrical frontman Doc Neeson) – all these things were drowned out by the chant of “no way, get fucked, fuck off” for most of my life, until I heard this song again about a decade ago and went “holy hell, the Angels were great!” The reissue of their Face to Face album solidified my new found respect for the band (as did a remarkably candid interview with Doc Neeson about the band’s acrimonious split, decade-long litigation and eventual reunion a couple of years back), and I was reminded of all this when my dame and I picked up this 7″ in a picture sleeve at a stall in Myponga Markets for a dollar a few weeks back.

The Radiators are still shit, though.

THIS TIME IN 2010: The Fauves’ all-too-brief moment in sun began with ‘Dogs are the Best People’.

Album: Kaliedoscope, 1980

Justification: With the (thoroughly deserved) glowing obituaries for the likes of Poly Styrene and Ari Up, I thought it might be nice to pay tribute to a UK punk icon, musician and artist while she was, you know, still alive.

The influence of the woman born Susan Ballion is considerable – aside from the obvious chicks-can-make-music antecedents like PJ Harvey and Santigold and Shirley Manson (and let’s not forget that UK music wasn’t exactly brimming with female artists controlling their own destinies at this point in history, Kate Bush aside): TV on the Radio wouldn’t have existed without her, Tricky wouldn’t have gotten the whole atmosphere+beats idea, Janes Addiction ripped them off blind and listening to ‘Happy House’ again years after it was the first Banshees track I ever heard*, it makes me ask the question “why the fuck did everyone go on about Wire and Gang of Four when Franz Ferdinand et al were in the ascendent, and not mention S&tB?” Jesus, just listen to the jerky rhythms! Steve Severin’s up-the-neck basslines! Siouxie’s punctuated vocals! It’s basically Punk Funk 101.

It’s also where the band pretty much became the Banshees they were meant to be, thanks to two new additions: ex-Slits drummer Budgie (who was to remain with the band for their rest of their career and become the now-ex-husband of Sioux) and guitarist John McGeogh, just late of Magazine and later to join PiL. This line up didn’t last long – McGeogh jumped ship in a fog of fights and heroin not long after the album was made – but his shrill, jerky playing style was to define the band’s style for a long time after his departure.

I saw them live at Heaven in Adelaide in (I’m guessing around) 1992 when they were touring the Twice Upon A Time singles collection, and they were fucking incredible. It was a hits-and-memories-style set – off memory, they did only a handful of album tracks – so it really was a matter of being bludgeoned by awesome song after awesome song.

*Like so, so many wanna-be goth boys, I got into the Banshees because of Robert Smith’s involvement – and for what it’s worth, my favourite Cure period is when he was being torn left and right between his commitments to both bands and creating desperate, confused, hallucinatory masterpieces like The Top.

THIS TIME IN 2010: Weekend. Nice to have a chance to catch up, though. Why not have a look through the archives? There’s heaps of stuff there.