05/28/2007
Mix Disc Monday Home / Music Home / Bullz-Eye Home
So it’s a year later from my last ‘80s mix disc, and, frankly, my tastes in music hadn’t changed all that much. MTV emerged in ’81 (which is mentioned in the very first write-up, in fact), but we didn’t have cable at the time, and even if we had, I’m led to understand that it originally wasn’t in all that many of the homes that did have cable. So, again, my tastes were limited to what was being played on the radio, in my parents’ vehicles, or – on rare occasions – at school…and, again, you get a playlist that mixes what I was listening to then with the stuff I’ve discovered since. So let’s get schizophrenic again, shall we?
"Adventures in Modern Recording," the
Buggles (Adventures
in Modern Recording)
We start things off with the title track of an
album most people don’t realize even exists. The
Buggles’ fifteen minutes of fame came courtesy
of “Video Killed the Radio Star,” from their 1980
album, Living in the Plastic Age, but
even that came not when it was released a single
but, rather, when it became the first video ever
aired on MTV, on August 1st, 1981. This album also
showed up in 1981, but neither it nor any of its
four singles managed to chart. To be fair, it’s
not as immediately pop-friendly as its predecessor,
but this song was both fun and catchy. Now, if
only someone would put it back into print…
"TV Party," Black Flag (Damaged)
I’ve always loved Henry Rollins’ spoken word a
hell of a lot more than his music, but I associate
this song with “Repo Man,” which immediately doubles
its worth in my eyes.
"Burnin’ for You," Blue Öyster
Cult (Fire
of Unknown Origin)
I’m usually the first person to defend a band
when someone goes for the old “They’ve got a greatest
hits? It must be a CD single!” joke, but I must
admit that if you gave me a CD single that contained
“(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” and this song, I would
neither complain nor ever need to buy anything
else by Blue Öyster Cult, ever.
"The Man Who Invented Himself," Robyn
Hitchcock (Black
Snake Diamond Role)
When the Soft Boys disbanded, frontman Robyn
Hitchcock wasted no time leaping into a solo
career; in fact, so little time was wasted that
every single member of the Soft Boys appears
on his solo debut, Black
Snake Diamond Role. This, the opening track,
is a bouncy little pop ditty that may or may not
be about Syd Barrett…but it certainly could be,
at least to my ears.
"You Better You Bet," the
Who (Face
Dances)
The first
song from the first album of the Who’s much-maligned
post-Moon years is actually pretty good, despite
what you might’ve heard. Besides, Kenney Jones
had a damned fine reputation from his years behind
the kit for the Small Faces; his only crime was
the fact that he wasn’t Keith Moon, and you can’t
blame the guy for that.
"Bringin’ on the Heartbreak," Def
Leppard (High
‘N’ Dry)
Yeah, it originally came out in 1981, but you
probably didn’t hear it ‘til 1984, when Polygram
reissued it in the wake of the crazy success of Pyromania.
But the more important question here is, have you
ever heard Mariah Carey’s cover of this song? Swear
to God, she did a version on her 2002 album, Charm
Bracelet. Don’t dismiss it out of hand, either:
it s a little over the top, but even the guys from
the band liked it, with Joe Elliot observing that
there are “some astonishing vocal gymnastics toward
the end that make Minnie Riperton sound like Tom
Waits.”
"The Passion of Lovers," Bauhaus (Mask)
I swear, I’m not consciously picking bands that
start with “B,” even though I realize this is the
fourth to appear on this mix disc. It just so happens
that a lot of the great music from 1981 was released
by artists who are filed under that letter -- like,
say, this one. It’s not my favorite song by the
band (that’d be “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”) nor the one
I have the most sentimental feelings toward (I
have very fond memories of cranking the bass solo
of “She’s in Parties” to piss off the people who
lived next door to me in college), but it’s got
a kick-ass chorus, and that’s enough to warrant
inclusion.
"It’s Not My Place (In the 9 to 5
World)," Ramones (Pleasant
Dreams)
Funnily enough, I finally got this album on CD
only a few weeks ago. The easy pick from the disc
would be “The KKK Took My Baby Away,” since it’s
probably my single favorite Ramones song of all
time – how can you resist as catchy a politically-incorrect
pop hook as that? – but I didn’t even know this
track until I got Rhino’s 2-disc anthology of the
band, and I fell in love with it on first spin.
Y’know, I’m actually trying to get an interview
with Pleasant Dreams producer Graham Gouldman
about some of his new recordings; stay tuned on
our progress.
"All Those Years Ago," George
Harrison (Somewhere
in England)
This tribute to the late John Lennon remained
the closest thing to a Beatles reunion we’d be
privy to until the release of those Anthology discs
in the mid-‘90s. Of course, they weren’t all in
the same studio at the same time, but, still, it
was George, Paul, and Ringo on the same song, and
that was all that counted. Confession: until putting
this mix disc together, I didn’t realize that Wings
stalwart Denny Laine contributed backing vocals
to the song as well.
"Physical," Olivia
Newton-John (Physical)
How can you not include this song in a retrospective
of 1981? You couldn’t go five minutes without hearing
the damned thing!
"On the Loose," Saga (Worlds
Apart)
As God is my witness, I just downloaded this
album from eMusic yesterday. All the AOR talk
on the Week
in Rock round table has really inspired
me to dig into some of the stuff I vaguely remember
from my youth, and the adding of this disc to my
collection is the result. I just don’t know if
it’s a good thing or not.
"From a Whisper to a Scream," Elvis
Costello and the Attractions (Trust)
This is inevitably going to end up on a future
Elvis Costello Deep Cuts list, but it’s one of
my favorite songs that you never hear anything
about: a duet with Glenn Tilbrook of Squeeze.
"Lunchbox," Alvin and the
Chipmunks with Jerry Reed (Urban
Chipmunk)
Okay, what do you want from me? I was 11,
for chrissakes. One of my cousins – I can’t remember
if it was Derinda or Melissa – had the Chipmunk
Punk album (which featured a cover of the
Knack’s “Good Girls Don’t,” though I’m guessing
the lyric “’til she’s sitting on your face” didn’t
make the cut), and I loved it, so I decided to
buy this one when it came out. Wikipedia says
that the Rolling Stone review involved
giving it half a star and declaring it “a piece
of shit,” but, again, I fall back on the excuse
that I was 11…and, dammit, when I was 11, I loved
every damned minute of it.
"Jukebox
Hero," Foreigner (4)
I think it’s safe to say that most of us have
a story like this one: I loved this song, I didn’t
have the money to buy it…but I did, however,
have a tape recorder that I could hold up to the
radio, in order to tape it. If you asked me to
pick a definitive “rock song” to put in a time
capsule, this might well be my pick. I’m not talking
about the definition of rock ‘n’ roll, per se;
I’m just talking about the kind of song that makes
you put on your jean jacket, break out your lighter,
and unabashedly revel in the power of riff-heavy
rock. Dare anyone deny that this meets those qualifications?
"Somewhere Down the Road," Barry
Manilow (If
I Should Love Again)
That’s right, kids: this time, Barry does get
his due. We all like to get our laughs by mocking
Mr. Manilow mercilessly, but in his heyday, he
was a master of sweeping ballads that always featured
a textbook case of modulation to signify the arrival
of the so-called “big finish,” and this is one
of his best. If you’re of the few readers still
with me at this point, you’re probably a closet
fan, so I’ll close by recommending that you check
out the original demo of the song – available on
the boxed set, The Complete Collection and
Then Some – where a sparse arrangement results
in the lyrics feeling even more heartbreaking than
they do on the album version.