Imaginary Popscape 1980 Songlist "When You Were Mine"—Prince, from Dirty Mind
"You Shook Me All Night Long"—AC/DC, from Back In Black
"The Glow of Love"—Change feat. Luther Vandross, from The Glow of Love
"Once In a Lifetime"—Talking Heads, from Remain In Light
"Best Friend"-English Beat, from I Just Can't Stop It
"Hungry Heart/Two Hearts (live)"—Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band, from The River and Live: 1975-1985
"The World’s a Mess, It’s In My Kiss"—X, from Los Angeles
"Hitch Hike"—Liliput, from Liliput [1993 anthology]
"Behind the Lines"—Genesis, from Duke
"Oh Yeah"—Roxy Music, from Flesh & Blood and Street Life
"Little Bitch"—Specials, from The Specials
"Split"—Liliput, from Liliput
"Celebration"—Kool and the Gang, from Celebrate! and Old School Jams 3 [2001]
"Mirror In the Bathroom"—English Beat, from I Just Can’t Stop It
"You Got It"—Pearl Harbor and the Explosions, from Pearl Harbor and the Explosions
"Kiss On My List"—Hall and Oates, from Voices and Rock‘n Soul Part 1
"Doesn’t Make It Alright"—Specials
"Redemption Song"—Bob Marley, from Uprising and Legend
"Patio Set"—Embarassment, from Heyday and (possibly) Retrospective
"Twist & Crawl"—English Beat
"Credit In the Straight World"—Young Marble Giants, from Colossal Youth
"Sister"—Prince
"Lesson #1"—Glenn Branca, from New York Noise [2003]  ¶ 9:19 AM 0 comments

  Imaginary Popscape 1980 Commentary "When You Were Mine"—Prince, from Dirty Mind
Christgau: A, #2 Album of 1980
Eddy: one of the Top 15 Albums of 1980
Rolling Stone: #18 Album of the ‘80s
SARG: 10, #53 Alternative Album
I’d like to assure you that I didn’t cheat; this is my favorite song of the year, if not the decade, and I didn’t place it up front out of some obligation to pick a Defining Song or anything similarly overreaching. But since it’s here… If you’re going to call any tune the Defining Song of the Decade, why not this one? A concise, uptempo pop song, something I’d like in any decade but which was an ‘80s hallmark, plus it’s about sex, something folks worry about in any decade but which got expanded air time in the ‘80s, especially the kinkier types Prince likes to sing about.

Plus it’s by Prince, who has a legitimate claim to the overreaching title of Defining Artist of the Decade, not because he sang about sex or was black or anything, but because he produced the most quality music. Look at his stats: three front-to-back great albums (Dirty Mind, Purple Rain, and Sign ‘O’ the Times) with a fourth pretty good one (1999), an achievement matched only by Bruce Springsteen (in the same years, synchronistically enough) and Madonna (with subjects for further research Husker Du and Ornette Coleman (and others I’ve yet to discover) possible alternates); at least one great song every year except 1983, in which Cyndi Lauper sang a great "When You Were Mine" of her own; and on many of those songs and albums, everything you hear is Prince. Now, a great song is a great song and the fact that the same person wrote, played, produced, waxed the studio floor, etc., can’t improve a song’s quality ex post facto; but it does give an artist extra Impressive Points, if that artist is competing for some trophy as specious as Defining Artist of the Decade.

So, fine, whenever we think of the ‘80s we’ll think of Prince and be done with it. Now forget all that, and listen to this really great song. His drumming’s not much—it will later improve and be supplanted by machines—but the guitar playing is better than simply competent. Prince the producer uses guitar primarily as a color, to signify that this is a rock song, but he lets Prince the guitarist throw in little flourishes and crescendos, plus some pretty chord inversions and added notes in the choruses, harmonic touches that are a step removed from the new wave style he’s biting. Prince the background singer gets away with the same thing: in verse two, he adds a harmonic suspension on "When he was THERE" that underlines the pining desolation at the song’s core. The lead singer’s falsetto will get stronger, but even now he’s got a little library of shrieks, swoops, and similar passion-signifiers from which to draw.

And yet, for all its pathos, this song is funny. Prince the lyricist comes across like he’s dissecting threesome etiquette: "You didn’t have the decency to change the sheets," "I never was the kind to make a fuss." The relentlessly chipper music contrasts the sad tale to give the whole an ironic edge that’s more Miss Manners than Emily Post, but really this mock sophistication in a hangdog-everyday-guy context goes back to Chuck Berry (and my grandpa), and probably well before that. Though he’d forget the hangdog and start acting annoying in ’81, Prince would continue to crib from this rock-historical encyclopedia of metaphor and phrasing all decade, at his best paraphrasing wildly out of control to fit his own sexually imaginative ends. My favorite Prince quote comes from Robert Christgau, re this album: "Mick Jagger should fold up his penis and go home."

"You Shook Me All Night Long"—AC/DC, from Back In Black
Christgau: B-
Eddy: #380 Heavy Metal Album
RS: #26 Album of the ‘80s
SARG (what exactly are they doing in there?): 8
Along with "Celebration," which we’ll get to later, a great song for wedding receptions, especially in this age of lax pre-nuptial morals. The part where the beat kicks in is the most beautiful part of Howard Stern’s Private Parts movie, and the whole "fast machine/motor clean" lyric is one Prince would be proud to’ve written (and essentially did for several songs on 1999), though I hear some people, females, can be offended by that, so it’s not recommended as a real-life opening compliment. For sheer offensiveness, though, I’ve got another Prince song for you, which we’ll get to later.

"The Glow of Love"—Change feat. Luther Vandross, from The Glow of Love
Christgau: B+
Eddy: one of the Top 15 albums of 1980
Grammy: Luther Vandross nominated for Best New Artist 1981
This should be one of the great wedding reception songs, but, like Amy Grant’s ’91 "How Can We See That Far," its happiness is more complex and might be met with resistance. Gorgeously unsettling, thanks to the dry guitar line and the hollow, ringing piano figure that would enliven Janet Jackson’s "All For You," this song notably marks the arrival of Luther Vandross’s commanding voice. Warm, expansive, brooding, his glow of love is more autumnal haze than blinding flame. The predominantly minor chords belie Luther’s innocent "We are one, having fun, walking," and carry us through to the late in life looking-back that ends the song, letting us know this relationship’s probably met with some unspoken angst along the way. Besides introducing the world to Luther, Change’s producers would give us the groups Macho, Revanche, the BBQ Band, High Fashion, and Zinc, all of whom I hope someday to hear.

"Once In a Lifetime"—Talking Heads, from Remain In Light
Christgau: A, #3 Album of 1980
SARG: 10
RS: #4 Album of the ‘80s
In the Grand Tradition of songs whose lyrics begin with the word "And," along with Led Zeppelin’s "What Is and What Should Never Be," Dionne Warwick’s "That’s What Friends Are For," Metallica (at this point only an apple in David Byrne’s eye)’s "Wherever I May Roam," and, um, the Talking Heads’ "And She Was." The effect is jarring, as though we’re entering in the middle of the song, and mythic, as though the Great Truth expounded is too big to exist within the confines of the lyrics. I doubt Zep’s "And" song revealed any G T of any kind, but this one might, something along the lines of, "Life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone." In 1986, Weird Al Yankovic would parody the spirit and some lyrics of "Once In a Lifetime" in "Dog Eat Dog." ("Sometimes I tell myself, ‘This is not my beautiful stapler!’")

"Best Friend"—English Beat, from I Just Can’t Stop It and What Is Beat?
Christgau: IJCSI-A-, #25 Album of 1980; WIB?-B+
Eddy: WIB?-one of the Top 15 Albums of 1983
SARG: IJCSI-10, #94 Alternative Album; WIB?-7
This song and "Mirror In the Bathroom" (below) appear directed toward the same self-absorbed nemesis, from two different points of view—if "Best Friend" bitterly attacks the cad whose best friend his him/herself, "Mirror" is self-directed from the same cad’s standpoint. It’s remarkably empathetic, akin to Bob Dylan actually standing inside his "Positively 4th Street" victim’s shoes "for just one time," instead of just wishing it in the penultimate lines, and then singing a song in said victim’s voice. Or maybe not so empathetic, since the protagonist of "Mirror" is far more transparent than the windows s/he anticipates shopping. In fact, put both songs together and their whole POV-swapping scenario works as an elaborate pun on "4th Street"’s caustic ultimate line, "[then] You’d know what a drag it is to see you": in the English Beat’s version, Dave Wakeling, through the magic of imaginative songwriting, inhabits his "Best Friend" subject’s body, and together they discover what a drag it is (or isn’t) to constantly gaze into the mirror.

Of course, both songs are so insistently catchy you can’t listen to them "just one time," and, along with "Twist & Crawl" and some spirited filler, they keep both the above albums worthwhile. "Best Friend" runs on only two chords (except in the negligible bridges),
proving the strength of a great power-pop melody sung in an appealingly husky voice, the blueprint for the Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ career. "Mirror In the Bathroom," the more sinister piece, boasts a dark, cavernous sax/guitar sound that sounds like the band recorded it in a bathroom, preferably public, preferably after the place was closed.


"Hungry Heart/Two Hearts (live)"—Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band, from The River and Live: 1975-1985
Christgau: R-A-, #17 album of 1980; Live-A-, #45 album of 1986
Grammy: nominated for Best Rock Vocal Performance 1981 (The River);
RS: R-#86 album of the ‘80s
Because I don’t have the liner notes for this live set, I’m not sure this recording is actually from 1980. The songs are originally from 1980’s The River, and they probably sounded similar in concert, since Springsteen is a model of consistency, as evidenced by the trademark Springsteen Lyrical Tics present:

"Hungry Heart": addressing the listener familiarly ("Jack"), driving imagery, river imagery

"Two Hearts": addressing the listener familiarly ("mister," "buddy"), referring to a woman as "little girl," "dreams" ("childish" and adult), roaming imagery ("through this land")

Both songs also make the point that it’s not good for a man to be alone; "Hungry Heart" pulls a subversive little trick where, in the first two verses, our narrator’s heart is hungry for adventure and separation, but by the third verse it’s hungry for companionship, but you have trouble feeling sorry for the guy since he has a history of sabotaging his relationships. "Grow up, Jack!" you cry, and the Springsteen Unreliable Narrator strikes again!

"Split"—Liliput, from Liliput [1993 anthology]
Christgau: A, #6 Album of 1993
SARG: 9
Master of Music Theory buddy Charles notes, "They must have spent hours trying to get this right," which, if he’s right, puts the lie to the party line that punks were all first-take amateurs (Ray Manzarek’s solo on the next tune makes the same point, as does the CD of all the hundreds of "Raw Power" takes that came out a couple years ago). No angry nihilism here either. So… an intricately designed song of pure joy, apparently about hopscotch and hara kiri,
shrieked by three women and a saxophone—why wasn’t this the worldwide playground hit, instead of "Another Brick In the Wall"? Poor distribution, probably. I hear this song as a bunch of hyperactive kids at recess, shouting "whoo-whoo-whoo-WHOO!" and beating on any percussive objects they can find. And in elementary school, who wasn’t obsessed with ritual suicide and other creepy practices you stumbled across in the library? (in BOOKS in the library… you understand)

Liliput were a German girl group whose sax/girl-punk sound is pretty close to the X-Ray Spex of a couple years earlier. Speaking of which, the sax was very popular in the early ‘80s, also popping up in the songs of the Specials, the English Beat, Quarterflash, and several bands on Slash records (though not X, below). If you throw in Springsteen (though he doesn’t really count, having kept Clarence Clemons in tow since forever), Gary U.S. Bonds (who, since he was being svengalied by Springsteen at this point, doesn’t count either), jazz (see Anthony Braxton in ’82), Michael Nyman, and the great ’83 solo in "I Want a New Drug," this was a banner sax period.

"The World’s a Mess, It’s In My Kiss"—X, from Los Angeles
Christgau: A-, #20 Album of 1980
RS: #24 Album of the ‘80s
SARG: 9
I don’t like X. (Boo-hoo!) Their turn-of-phrase wordplay’s as obvious as Elvis Costello’s, their sense of Rock Tradition’s as hokey as Bruce Springsteen’s, and they don’t have the tunes of either. The element that really aggravates me, though, is their abrasive, dissonant approach to vocal harmony. There’s nothing wrong with not being able to sing as long as you compensate by shouting, like the women in Liliput, or surround your poor singing with contexts that sound appropriate or poignant, like Tom Waits. X’s approach is to sing fairly normal rockabilly-punk with long, soaring vocal harmonies that resemble a rusty band saw (or a sneer, which may be what they were trying for). This song is unusually catchy and has a rockin’ organ solo courtesy producer Ray Manzarek, who rocked us all to sleep with his "Light My Fire" solo back in ‘67.

"Behind the Lines"—Genesis, from Duke
The version on next year’s Face Value, Phil Collins’s solo debut, is a sparer and less deliberate shuffle, a portent of much uselessly chipper Phil Collins crap to come, but this one has an almost-stomping groove and big keyboards. The words are about some kind of "book"; I think it’s a conflagration of the rock-mythical "Book of Love" and a "yearbook" ("saw your picture" "since I’ve read those words" (her signature/message)), from which Phil parses a message, apparently false, of undying love from his sweetie post divorce from same. (Other songs on the album more explicitly address divorce.) As much fun as this lyrical dissection is, I don’t ultimately care. The strength of Phil’s lyrics lies solely in their relationship to the music. "It’swritten…inthahh…BOOK!" is a pretty good HOOK, even if it’s a pretty square sentiment in our illiterate age, doubly square in the context of rock music, cubed when you consider the guy’s gone on to score Disney movies. Not too different from New Order lyrics, most of which are too meaningless or general or whimsical to do anyone any good, many of which work spectacularly because they fit with the tunes and don’t say anything too dumb.

In 1991 I heard, probably on Casey’s Top 40, that Phil’s lyric-writing technique is to scat along with the band’s music until a lyrical idea takes shape; he then fleshes this idea into a lyric. If that’s the technique he employed in "Behind the Lines," it works for the reasons stated above. Around 1981, however, Phil would start to move away from sweeping generalities alluding to "love"; apparently he thought he should start addressing "issues." This worked fine on the wonderfully imaginative "The Roof Is Leaking" (see 1981) because it’s set in the past, maybe because he arrived at the lyric apart from any pre-existing tune (it’s on his self-played solo debut). The trouble with turning your scats into issue songs is that you might not know anything about the issues whose keywords sound really good when you’re scatting. So in 1983 we get the offensive "Illegal Alien" ("It’s…no…fun…being an illegal aliuuun," another OK hook but come on!), in 1986 it’s the confused "Land Of Confusion" (admittedly impeded by its puppet-Reagan video), and in 1991, the year of Casey’s above revelation, we get such idiocies as the domestic dispute "No Son Of Mine," the smug I-help-the-homeless-so-why-don’t-you "Tell Me Why," and the hit-and-run narrative "Dreaming While You Sleep," all of which address topics more theoretically interesting than love, all of which are awkward and empty.


"Oh Yeah"—Roxy Music, from Flesh & Blood and Street Life
Christgau: F&B-B; SL-B+
SARG: F&B-6; SL-9
In the Grand Tradition of Songs About Other Songs That Become the Songs They’re About (first one that comes to mind: "Same Old Song" by the Four Tops), here’s one from Bryan Ferry and the gang that doesn’t reveal any Great Truths or formal innovations, but does offer the framework for a gorgeous melody and a majestic synthy guitar line (which may be a synth) in the choruses. Not to mention a deepening of the elusive, suave and slightly smarmy Bryan Ferry persona: to contrast with Say Anything’s Lloyd and Diane, we don’t know which base Bryan and his love reach while listening to their song, because he’s not the kind of guy who’d say. He is, rather, the kind of guy who’d say "movie show" several times. He doesn’t go to a lot of movies, see, but if that’s how a young lady wants to be courted these days, he’ll acquiesce.


"Celebration"—Kool and the Gang, from Celebrate! and Old School Jams 3 [2001]
Billboard: #5 Song of 1981
Christgau: C!-C-
This song, along with "Split", represents the purest unadulterated happiness anywhere in this collection. "Celebration" is more conventionally structured, but it remains equally fresh. Note how, right before the choruses, the "Everyone around the world, COME ON!" leaves us hanging without a bass note, just when we expect the bass to return to the tonic note of the main chord. We don’t get our tonic for about a bar and a half, a nice moment of delayed gratification that probably signifies nothing, but is kind of witty.

"Kiss On My List"—Hall and Oates, from Voices and Rock‘n Soul Part 1
Billboard: #8 Song of 1981
Christgau: V-C+; R&S-B+
Eddy: R&S-one of the Top 15 Albums of 1983
A compact, piano-pounding nugget of ear candy, this tempting morsel was shat out the collective songwriting sphincter of Hall and Jana Allen, his girlfriend’s kid sister, and it gleams like a pearl of pure constipation. Every chord is just so, and two are startling: the one on "bliss" opens up when you expect it’ll close off; and the third change in the soaring gee-tar solo is also fairly fancy. Every vocal gesture is dead-on, from "I go CRAY-zy!" to the falsetto leaps on the last choruses. And appropriately, the piano keeps booming out with complete authority over the proceedings, as though Daryl and Jana are still entertaining the family in the living room.


"You Got It (Release It)"—Pearl Harbour and the Explosions, from Pearl Harbor and the Explosions
Eddy: one of the Top 15 Albums of 1980
What is this "it"? Though I generally yell at songs that don’t use concrete nouns, this one works fine with zero ("rain" in "right as rain" doesn’t count)—maybe the band was doing a writing exercise to prove some smug songwriting instructor wrong (we’ve all been there). And they came up with a supportable life statement, somewhere along the lines of Matthew 25’s Parable of the Talents, wherein two servants invest their master’s money ("release it") while one digs a hole and buries it, a strategy with a very low interest yield. Themaster naturally rewards the two investors and customarily punishes the tightwad by throwing him into the darkness to weep and gnash his teeth.

Lead singer Pearl E. Gates wouldn’t want anyone to gnash his pearl e. whites, so she correctly extends Jesus’ metaphor to encompass all sorts of possibilities—sexual energy, creativity, romantic love, love for humankind—and goads her subject with repeated cries of "I want it!" and "I need it!", despite which the band (including the future-industrial-rhythm-section Stench brothers) sound so high on life you never doubt their willingness to give "it" away themselves. This’d be a good song for some enterprising Christian rock band to cover.

"Patio Set"—Embarrassment, from Heyday and (possibly) Retrospective
Christgau: R-A-, #49 Album of 1984
SARG: R-9
From "You Got It" to "Patio Set," we move from no concrete metaphors to one that’s impenetrable. I understand that Bill or John, whoever’s singing, tends to sit around and not say much with his illicit girlfriends (they’re the "lawn chairs"), like a "patio set," but wouldn’t any decent patio set include the table? So who the hell’s sitting between them holding the drinks? Apparently they’ve got a third person with them, taking us right back into "Dirty Mind" territory, unless the third person is some sort of domestic and Bill or John is screwing around well above his typical indie-rock means. Whatever the case, he and whoever’s singing backup sound gorgeously bored, and Brent’s excellent (or excellently-miked; I can’t tell the difference) drumming clues us in to our narrator’s hidden inner turmoil.

"Sister"—Prince again
As short as it is (1:32), this song packs in a whole lot, chord and song-part-wise. Verse, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, modulating tag at the end. Plus, we get an early showing of Prince’s incomprehensible-screamed-vocal style, at the "motherfucker" part that ends verse three. PLUS, way too much info about his sister. According to RS, when Prince played Dirty Mind for his Dad, Dad replied, "You’re swearing on the record. Why do you have to do that?" Dad was concerned about the swearing??

"Little Bitch"—Specials, from The Specials
Christgau: A-, #40 Album of 1980
Eddy: one of the Top 15 Albums of 1980
RS: #68 Album of the ‘80s
SARG: "a hallowed classic"
"Little Bitch" is notable for its great "One! Two!" alone, a rallying cry divorced from its normal counting-off-the-song function to exist solely for aesthetic effect, particularly when it ends the song. They sprinkled touches like that across the whole album, these Specials: there are sweet, ragged horn charts, "i-yi-yi"s in "Monkey Man," inexplicable precognitive "blank"s in "Blank Expression," a great singsong guitar line in "Gangsters"—listening to The Specials is like leafing thru a box of childhood curiosities and finding new treasures in every trinket, and thus is it great—indeed, the best album of 1980. At their melody/harmony/rhythmical/lyrical core, the tunes are nearly all memorable, but these Special-tacular touches push them into greatness, proof (all you doubting-Thomases and Judas-spotters) that Gimmicks can be Good. Good Gosh!

"Mirror In the Bathroom"—English Beat again
see "Best Friend," above

"Lesson #1"—Glenn Branca, from New York Noise [2003] and Lesson #1
As long as it is (8:12), this "lesson" doesn’t pack in a whole lot, chord and song-part-wise. I detect some phasing between the two guitars during the first three minutes, but once the drums kick in I’ve got no idea what feverish ideas are being played out. So what "lesson" do we learn here? Don’t let rock guitarists listen to Philip Glass records? No, only a smartass would say something crass like that. Branca named this piece "Lesson" to pull himself out of the realm of crass New York rock ‘n’ roll smartasses and into the realm of the multi-guitar symphonies that would follow. And whaddya know, he does achieve a very listenable rock instrumental here—it’s no "Telstar," but what is? I’d definitely rather listen to "Lesson #1" than, say, "Frankenstein," despite the absence of a hummable melody, because any individual moment offers a pretty chord and lots of different lines to focus in on.


"Redemption Song"—Bob Marley, from Uprising and Legend
Christgau: U-A-, #39 Album of 1980; L-A, #5 Album of 1984
Whether he was the best songwriter of the 20th century is no concern of mine here (I suspect not, but we’ll just see when we get to the ‘70s, won’t we?), but Bob Marley did have a strikingly original voice, one that emcompassed humdrum slice-of-life detail along with prophetic grandeur, much like John Lennon’s. Like "Oh Yeah," this is a Song About Other Songs That Becomes a Song It’s About. Like "Behind the Lines," it’s a Song About a Book, though probably more Book of Life than Love. The song’s viewpoint, concerned more with "mental slavery" and "fulfill[ing] the Book" (and pirates!) than the perils of atomic energy, is strikingly more stoic than it is protestant, which adds to the sense that our songwriter is taking in a long, unconcerned view of the big picture.  ¶ 8:38 AM 0 comments