Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 63

Echo & the Bunnymen - "Bring on the Dancing Horses"



(Single Release: November 1985)
Ta-da! Here now is the last entry in my survey of great songs from 1985. In my opinion, I saved the best for last. I have already mentioned this band as one of my holy triumvirate, along with the Smiths and New Order, which completely opened my world to a brand new kind of musical experience. Not that this is some kind of transcendental thing, but I suppose it is as close as pop music comes in my personal experience. Though I am not really one for nonsensical lyrics, "Bring on the Dancing Horses" is an exception, especially because they seem to be literary, either metaphors for another experience, or allusions to past material (it always makes me think of Equus). I have not tried that hard to find an interpretation because I think it might be ruined for me. Whether it's about the realization of the end of a relationship or about drug abuse (as nearly every commenter on song lyric sites seem to think about EVERY song), it doesn't seem to matter to me. I'd rather listen to this gorgeous song in blissful ignorance, then sing along with "Shiver and say the words / of every lie you've heard / First I'm gonna make it / Then I'm gonna break it / Till it falls apart / Hating all the faking / And shaking while I'm breaking / Your brittle heart." I first heard this track as I was just discovering Echo. I picked up their compilation album, Songs to Learn and Sing and it shook me to the core. "Bring on the Dancing Horses" was not only a brand new single, but it was also included on this compilation. It was originally recorded specifically for the John Hughes film (a running theme), Pretty in Pink, but the band released it four months early. I have saved this song for last as it pretty much defines 1985, and most of 1986 for me. It is a musical shove beyond Top 40 radio and into what was then called either college rock or alternative. I ended up seeing Echo & the Bunnymen perform twice, and they have remained one of my go-to bands over the successive years. For some, the inclusion of just one new song on a compilation album of past singles might have been a gimmick, but for me, in this instance, it was a touchstone and a symbol of what would be a lifelong passion. "Bring on the new messiah / Wherever he may roam."

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 62

General Public - "Never You Done That"



(Single Release: 1985?)
Let's start with the question mark you see above. This entry in this parade of great songs from 1985 might be cheating, but only just a little. You see, the General Public album, All the Rage, and most of its subsequent singles came out in 1984. But, the subject of this particular post, "Never You Done That," was released as a promo single in 1985, paired with "Tenderness," for some unknown reason. Okay, qualification over. Now we can get back to me fawning over long forgotten tracks from my junior high school days. Let's start with the English Beat, shall we? Or, as they were originally called, over in their home country, the Beat. When I speak of my favorite bands, the holy triumvirate of the Smiths, New Order, and Echo, and even other bands of that time like the Cure, Depeche Mode, Talking Heads, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Oingo Boingo, R.E.M., and the Waterboys, I somehow seem to inconveniently pass over the English Beat, and I don't know why. They really are one of the best bands, with their album, Special Beat Service as an example of a near-perfect album, jam-packed with incredibly infectious tunes. As Greg Proops has said in his podcast, The Smartest Man in the World, "Save it for Later" is probably the best song ever recorded. Hyperbole aside, the English Beat are often forgotten as one of the bastions of hope for popular music in the 80s. Though I would consider General Public, the offshoot of the Beat with the two frontmen, Dave Wakeling and Ranking Roger, a step below the English Beat, they are still a fantastic band. Though I love me some "Tenderness," I also have a huge fondness for "Never You Done That," a song that sounds like it could have been ripped from Special Beat Service. I will have to admit, however, that as a budding young snob that would become an English major in about six years, I did have problems with the grammar of the title, but those agitations are quickly forgotten once the song begins. And, considering the recent resurgent fad of whistling in songs, it is ripe for revisitation.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 61

Paul Young - "Every Time You Go Away"



(Single Release: February 1985)
As you can plainly see, I have no problem qualifying cover songs as great songs of 1985. Of course, somehow, I never knew this was a cover until very recently, despite my unironic love of Hall and Oates. Though the H&O album on which it appears contains "Kiss on My List" and "You Make My Dreams," it still came at a time when deep album cuts didn't get much play. Though Hall & Oates never released it as a single, and I'm not sure why they didn't, it finally got its due five years later through this cover by Paul Young. Young was another blue-eyed soul songster who had started his career by doing covers of songs by Marvin Gaye ("Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)") and the Four Preps ("Love of the Common People"). "Every Time You Go Away," which I simply must say is one of Daryl Hall's best written songs, became synonymous with Young and was his only #1 hit. I'm hard pressed at this point to tell you which version I prefer, because, although I love Hall & Oates, and they did the original, Paul Young certainly belts this one out with gusto and passion. I really enjoy the direct, Motown-style conversational aspect of the lyrics, with Hall or Young addressing a significant other, "Baby, if we can't solve any problems / Then why do we lose so many tears". And, guess what? As a theme that tends to be going through these blog posts, it is included in a great soundtrack, and not just any soundtrack, a John Hughes soundtrack. Though I wouldn't count Planes, Trains, and Automobiles as part of Hughes' span of teen comedies, I can't look past the fact that this song makes me well up at the end of the movie, which is a feat for a zany John Candy and Steve Martin vehicle (forgive the pun).

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 60

David Bowie - "This is Not America"



(Single Release: February 1985)
Hey kids, remember The Falcon and the Snowman? Well, that's a shame. Not that I remember it all that well, but it seems like it should have been a good film. A young Sean Penn, director John Schlesinger, and Steven Zallian's first produced script? Yeah, it should be great. But, it is certainly not bandied about as one of the great movies of this or any other generation. But, it is known, at least among Bowie fans, as the film with "This is Not America," a collaboration with the movie's music producer, jazz musician Pat Metheny. It was written between two of Bowie's lesser albums, and when I say that, friends know that I say it lovingly. To some, it is a lone blip of brilliance amidst a few low points. It is, in fact, one of my favorite ever Bowie tracks. Why? There is just something about the laid-back nature of it, the dynamic range of Bowie's vocals, going from low croon to falsetto, and who can't resist the "sha-la-la-la's"? The song also contains some of the most intriguing lyrics in Bowie's career. I particularly enjoy the comparative end lines of "This is not America" and "This is not a miracle." Written specifically for the film, and even referencing the title character code names, the song spins a tale about Russian spies. But, in today's climate, I often have the song running through my brain whenever I hear about social injustices in this country. Writing this, and hearing his music, makes me once again realize that I miss David Bowie immensely. It has been eight long years since he has released any album-length material, when the longest he had ever gone before between albums was three years. Some say he won't release any more music. I don't even want to think about that version of reality. I'd rather hold out hope.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 59

Arcadia - "Election Day"



(Single Release: October 1985)
And here we have the second side of the story, the embittered half of the relationship, if you will. Some half-a-year plus after The Power Station hit the charts, those left in the wreckage of the relationship that was Duran Duran were left to pick up the pieces and try to convince their absent partners that they could date around, too. Consisting of singer Simon LeBon, keyboardist Nick Rhodes, and drummer Roger Taylor, Arcadia was the yin to the Power Station's yang. Whereas the PS veered off into a different direction, guided by two members from Chic, Arcadia was resolute to continue making music in the tradition of their old union. It was as if they were in severe denial about the breakup, refusing to move on, insisting that it wasn't really over. Even the cover for their one album release, So Red the Rose, is somewhat reminiscent of Rio, with a stylized portraiture of an attractive and exotic woman. It's Jean Cocteau vs. Nagel. It has been said that the title of the album is almost a palindrome. I hate to break it to you, but almosta palindrome isn't anything. It's like when my friend, Brian, used to remark upon close calls such as this and insist that you read it "sideways." The album was successful, going platinum, which is certainly huge by today's dismal sales standards. Even by standards back then, Duran Duran had never gone beyond platinum, but the first three DD records had reached the top ten in the UK and US, while Arcadia only got as high as 23. That must be why Nick Rhodes called the two side projects "commercial suicide." Pfft. I know. Total failures, right? (Sarcasm). The truth is, Arcadia was not a failure per se, but instead merely an extension of the original band, with a few pretty darn great songs. "Election Day" is the short-lived trio's most popular single and it is easy to hear why. Dynamic synthesizers back up Simon LeBon's signature vocals that are highlighted with processed punctuating horns and a memorable chorus, as well as, wait for it, a spoken word section by Grace Jones! As I mentioned yesterday, however, the lyrics are a bit byzantine and strange, bordering on nonsensical, at least as compared to the songs penned by their departed partners. I can't say that I like Arcadia more than any of the first three Duran Duran albums, but it is still enjoyable.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 58

The Power Station - "Some Like it Hot"



(Single Release: March 1985)
First of all, for those of you saying, "It's just Power Station, dummyhead, not The Power Station," well, you're wrong. Take a look at their album and single covers. Case closed. Now that's out of the way, let's talk about breakups. For John and Andy Taylor, it wasn't them, it was you (looking squarely at the synthesizer). No, I don't think they had a tiff with Nick Rhodes. Instead, they just wanted to get away from the signature 80s synth-pop that made Duran Duran so famous. While Simon and Nick (Roger played for both bands, he just wanted Mommy and Daddy to stop fighting) went off to do Arcadia, continuing to be happy in the synth rut they had created, John and Andy started seeing other people, namely Robert Palmer and Tony Thompson (and producer Bernard Edwards). That dalliance was fruitful, for sure. Their debut album, rooted in a funk rhythm section, hit #6 on the album charts and spawned two top ten singles, including "Some Like It Hot." Sure, one was a cover of T. Rex's "Bang a Gong (Get it On)," but who cares? There is always some form of revisionist history when it comes to breakups. Suddenly, the dumped say it was mutual or reversed, things said in the heat of argument are quickly and intentionally forgotten, and any subsequent relationships are never as good. So, Nick Rhodes said that the two bands were "commercial suicide." Of course, this coming from the lesser successful band of the two. Hmmm. Jeeeealllouuuus? Yep, John and Andy traded in an off key, caterwauling singer (and I like Simon LeBon, so step off, it's true) for a workaday steady funkster and probably the best pure musicians they've ever played with in Thompson and Edwards, both formerly of Chic. I'll be honest, I can't remember if the whole album was great shakes, but I sure do like "Some Like it Hot." The lyrics may be simple and fairly meaningless, but simple ended up to be far more memorable than elaborate and meaningless (more on that tomorrow). Of course, it didn't matter how good this relationship might have been. Eventually, John and Andy started missing what they used to have. Aw, baby, I can't stay mad at you! Duran Duran got back together and gave us quite a few more hits (and a few more stinkers, let's be realistic), but maybe it took them seeing other people in order to appreciate what they had.

p.s. One of my favorite things in the world is hearing Jimmy Pardo sing "Some Like it Hot" on his podcast. Cracks me up every time.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 57

Camper Van Beethoven - "Take the Skinheads Bowling"



(Album Release: 1985)
Is this a song about social harmony or does it mean absolutely nothing? I don't know, but I enjoy the hell out of this song. Of course, Michael Moore managed to find not so subtle meaning in it and included a cover version of it to open up his film, Bowling for Columbine. Isn't that what the best art is all about? The fact that a song, with lyrics as silly as this one, can be so wildly funny and entertaining while at the same time providing a much deeper interpretation, is testament to its genius. Though I liked this song quite a bit in 1985, I didn't become a huge Camper Van fan until their major label releases, Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart and Key Lime Pie. "Pictures of Matchstick Men" is still one of my favorite covers of all time. "Skinheads," however, is the first successful song from a band that was not and is not appreciated near enough. Coming from Redlands, CA and displaying such eclecticism in their music probably had people pegging them as stoners, but this song proved that all labels and stereotypes were not to be taken seriously. This song also introduced me to the riveting voice of David Lowery who would go on to form his second underrated band, Cracker. But, before I finish this up, take a look at the lyrics of the song in all their dadaist, nonsensical glory and tell me it doesn't make you smile just a little.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 56

Minor Threat - "Salad Days"



(EP Release: 1985)
I'm not sure there's a better way to start a Monday. I have my college girlfriend to thank for introducing me to Minor Threat, arguably the most important band to come out of Washington, D.C. Salad Days was Minor Threat's last release, issued after the band had already broken up. As such, it was somewhat of a bridge, metaphorically and sonically, to Ian MacKaye's later projects, including the great Fugazi. The song's title has its origins in Shakespeare, meaning a time of youth and inexperience. So, it is somewhat fitting that this post-breakup track is somewhat wistful about the old days. Though this song is incredibly fast, it probably seemed somewhat slower to most Minor Threat fans at the time. This slight change in tempo and style can certainly be followed to Fugazi. And, like most MInor Threat songs, if you can make out the lyrics, they are incredibly deep, insightful, and well written. There is a lot of meaning packed into "But I stay on, I stay on / Where do I get off? / On to greener pastures / The core has gotten soft." Frankly, that bass intro gives me paroxysms of anxious anticipation every time. It's also the best use of chimes since AC/DC's "Hell's Bells." And a hardcore punk song with melody? This could easily be my favorite hardcore track of all time. Yeah. Damn. Now I'm ready for the week.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 55

Sting - "Fortress Around Your Heart"



(Single Release: October 1985)
I've had inner conflict about Sting for years. Having been a fan of the Police, I was on board immediately in 1985 for Sting's solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles. With its jazz-centric sound, complete with a band fronted by Branford Marsalis, it was yet another bridge between my dad's fusion jazz leanings and the kids' popular fare. For that reason, I have fond memories of the album. Plus, I actually liked the music. I bought Sting albums up until 1993's Ten Summoner's Tales, but after that, the devils on my shoulder have outshouted my better angels, inciting my anti-Sting sentiments. Hearing this song again, some 25+ years later, I was reminded again of what I liked about it. But, the accompanying video reminded of the larger-than-life persona of the performer, and what has turned me off to the concept of Sting in recent years. This video is ludicrous, especially for a well-written song about divorce. For some reason, an unseen woman sends out a suited envoy to approach Sting and his Hobbit-like assistant in an abandoned warehouse / factory. They are there to supposedly buy a song from this renegade, ronin songwriter, but Sting asserts, "One song...and I'll choose it." HA-RUMPH! I've heard that this filmic representation of Sting's egotism is not too far from the mark, including an apocryphal story in which Sting goes to a restaurant and stops the maitre'd from seating him until all of the patrons turned in his direction to recognize him. Ozzy Osbourne famously said on his MTV show, after reciting a litany of horrible things he's done and experienced, "It could have been worse. I could have been Sting." However, despite my recent dislike of what Sting has become, I still like a lot of those early tracks. "Fortress Around Your Heart" is probably my favorite single from the debut album and thus certainly merits a spot on this list.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 54

The Alarm - "Strength"



(Single Release: 1985)
The Alarm has been unfairly bashed as a U2 knockoff, but in reality, or to complete the reference, in absolute reality, they paralleled U2's career. Yet while U2's rise was meteoric, The Alarm's was anemic, at least in the States. Yet, they had a hardcore fanbase that loved them every bit as much, if not more, than their Irish counterparts. I don't know which band I like more. I don't know that I have even compared them as much as others do. But, I must admit, "Strength" is probably one of the band's more U2-like compositions, at least sonically. Yet, though The Alarm shared U2's big arena sound and political themes, found in such songs as "68 Guns," "Blaze of Glory," "Marching On," and "Unsafe Building," this song, that possibly sounded most like U2, was a plea for company, for companionship, for rescue from a world of loneliness. I suppose if one were trying to find the political meaning in everything, one could find a message of socialism, but I doubt that's what's happening here. Instead, this is an open-hearted plea for love, in which our narrator lets us know that he is emotional, can cry, is terribly lonely, and is looking for a way out. And yet, it is sung with so much fire and passion that one could easily make a mistake of misinterpretation, merely based on the sound and the title. The same could be said for other songs, such as "The Spirit of '76," a song in which Mike Peters, the lead singer, remembers the friends of his past. In other words, it is more like "The Summer of 69" than a song about rebellion. After all, The Alarm is made up of two Englishmen and two Welshmen. What would they care about America's battle for independence, other than to present a differing side? Even that is a stretch at this point in history. Anyway, I got a chance to see The Alarm play in 1988, a year after the release of their album, Eye of the Hurricane. It was held in the small gymnasium of a private college in San Diego and was thus somewhat of an intimate affair. It is a show I will always remember, and the performance of "Strength" a particular strong memory.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 53

Duran Duran - "A View to a Kill"



(Single Release: May 1985)
Yesterday, I wrote about "19" by Paul Hardcastle, the song that would keep Duran Duran's foray into the Bond franchise from reaching number one. Today, I cover the latter, the also-ran. This is the song that could have been the quintet's last hurrah, one last score before splintering off into Power Station and Arcadia. Luckily for us, they got back together and gave us "Notorious," "I Don't Want Your Love," and "Ordinary World." The first and last in that list being used to great effect in Donnie Darko ("I question your commitment to SparkleMotion") and Layer Cake respectively. The partnership between Duran squared and the Bond franchise has dubious beginnings. Apparently, John Taylor, always my sister's favorite, somewhat drunkenly, snobbishly, and obnoxiously approached Cubby Broccoli and asked when someone decent was going to do a Bond theme. Ahem. I guess he thinks Shirley Bassey, Paul McCartney, Tom Jones, Nancy Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong aren't decent. Well, though the song isn't my favorite Bond theme, it is a good one. In fact, I was surprised to learn that the Internet community looked far more favorably on it than I do, but that might be young nostalgia and the trick of recent memory at play. I won't get into the film as that could take me forever. I won't even get into the video, which is ridiculousness in itself. I will merely say that I am a fan of Duran Duran, have owned a lot of their albums (some in cassette form, growing up), and also love the Bond films, so this was a nice marriage. I have one more pet peeve with this song and it has little to do with the song itself and more to do with the population at large in relation to it. Just as some keep misnaming "How Soon is Now" as "I Am Human," and "Good Riddance" as "The Time of Your Life," (and yes, I know that is the subtitle for the latter), people keep misnaming "A View to a Kill" as "Dance Into the Fire." Sure, it's a catchy phrase, but it's not the title. Sigh. Why must I be overburdened with such snobbery? Maybe John Taylor and I would get along better than I thought.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 52

Paul Hardcastle - "19"



(Single Release: February 1985)
Michael Stipe once claimed, "I don't think music and politics mix" (Segal, 2003). I guess that depends on how you define politics, as R.E.M. is arguably one of the most politically bent bands out there. I don't agree with his sentiments. I think art and politics have been inextricably intertwined for millennia and it's not likely to stop, nor would I want it to. Paul Hardcastle's anti-war song, "19," is just such an example, combining energetic dance music with samples of Vietnam documentaries and news footage / audio. The premise behind the song is simple, displaying the horrors of war, all the while pointing out that, as the song says, "In World War II, the average age of the combat soldier was 26, in Vietnam he was 19." I remember hearing this song for the first time and being amazed on three successive fronts: one, how infectious the music was, two, how shocked I was at that statistic, and three, how a pop song could be so informative. Of course, it was more than just informative, it was rebellious. By juxtaposing the horrors of the Vietnam War, and thus all modern wars, with popular music, Hardcastle provided an anti-war message for the masses that would resonate. It certainly did with me. Because Hardcastle is mostly known as a synth composer, usually found in classical sections of music stores, for this to be his one breakout hit is extraordinary and meaningful. This is not a novelty song. This is serious business. Of course, not everything that resulted from this song's popularity was good. Hardcastle's manager was Simon Fuller who, because of the success of this song, was able to start his own company and later go on to create American Idol. Who says music and politics don't mix?

Segal, D. (2003). "Count Me Out: Why Rock and Politics Don't Mix." bnet: The CBS Interactive Business Network. Retrieved from http://www.findarticles.com

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 51

Hall & Oates - "Method of Modern Love"



(Single Release: February 1985)
Let's just try to forget that really disconcertingly dated video and the accompanying, horribly written summary of it on Wikipedia. They don't exist, okay? Rather, let's just concentrate on the song. They proved it once again, thirteen years into their professional careers, after eleven previous studio albums and over 25 charting singles, six of them #1s, Daryl Hall and John Oates produced another mesmerizing track. I've always been an unabashed Hall & Oates fan. I once owned Private Eyes on vinyl, and hopefully will again. These two are songwriting masters, there's just no getting around it. "Sara Smile," "Rich Girl," "Kiss on My List," "You Make My Dreams," "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," "Maneater," ... need I go on? Their sound is described as blue-eyed soul, a term coined to describe the white artists who were starting to make Rhythm & Blues and soul music in the 60s. There's an apocryphal story, mainly questionable because I half-remember it from either a Behind the Music episode or some similar program, that many people in the Philadelphia music scene, including established artists, at first merely assumed, upon hearing "She's Gone," that Hall & Oates were African American. There were no music videos back then; there was just the radio. The story goes to show how adept the duo is at writing and performing songs in a particular style that they grew up with and loved. "Method of Modern Love" carries on with that tradition, though with an 80s sheen and production gloss that seemed requisite at the time. Once that gloss is stripped off, we are left with a traditional R&B song in all its glory. Hall's vocals are once again superb. His falsettos are second to none. And, despite the 80s stigma, one cannot deny the magnetism of the spelling portion of the song. It is certainly one of the track's biggest hooks and it reels me in every time. I cannot express how much I love Hall & Oates, without any hint of irony. In fact, it even bothers me that I have to qualify it in such a way considering the last few years of disdain for certain popular 80s acts. But, thanks to some love from the band Phoenix and soundtrack appearances, such as in (500) Days of Summer, there has been a much deserved resurgence. For the past four years, Hall has been presenting an online performance show called Live from Daryl's House, in which he performs impromptu music with his guest for the month. He even got Smokey Robinson to sing "Ooo Baby Baby" (a song he notoriously refuses to perform), by merely transitioning into it from "Sara Smile." Hall & Oates are performing at Bumbershoot this year. I may have to find my way there.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 50

Bruce Springsteen - "I'm on Fire"



(Single Release: February 1985)
"I'm on Fire" is two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of perfection. Back before I was a Bruce convert, this song was a light in the darkness. It was the first Springsteen track I truly loved. There have been many since, especially in poring over the catalog, but "I'm on Fire" led the way. It's not just because it was first. It is quite possibly the most perfectly written, compact song. The music sounds and feels like motion, mimicking the freight train in the last verse. It is a style similar to many of the songs by Johnny Cash, which is probably why it sounded so great as a cover by the Man in Black on the Sub Pop issued Nebraska tribute. (I, for one, did not quibble about the song being from the Born in the U.S.A. sessions and not Nebraska, though it could have been, if it were just a little darker). That sense of motion propels us through the song, hearing Bruce describe his longing for someone who, while perhaps not unattainable, after all this is Bruce we're talking about, is at least attached to someone else. This is perhaps why it resonated with me. As a lovesick teen, this kind of yearning from afar was requisite. The structure of the song is also intriguing. The first two verses have the same form, with two descriptive rhyming lines (i.e., "Hey little girl is your daddy home / Did he go and leave you all alone?", then two rhyming expressions of his love, (i.e., "I got a bad desire / Oh, I'm on fire." The third verse is a bridge, in which Bruce more poetically and dramatically describes his pain. This is where it gets interesting. The fourth and final verse is a hybrid of the two, combining the three line bridge format with the two line ending of the first two verses to round out the song as it fades into the distance. As I said for Treblezine's Top 200 Songs of the 80s, where it really should have broken the top 50, "I'm on Fire" is the most haunting, passionate, subversive, erotic love song ever written. It is only kismet that it is 50th in my list, as this is not in any order of preference or rank. But again, it is two minutes and thirty-seven short seconds of perfection.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 49

Pat Benatar - "Invincible (Theme from The Legend of Billie Jean)"



(Single Release: November 1985)
We will always associate Ray Parker, Jr. with Ghostbusters, Simple Minds with The Breakfast Club, and Huey Lewis with Back to the Future, but does anyone even remember The Legend of Billie Jean? Yeah, I didn't think so. The film tanked at the box office. It has apparently found a cult audience, but I have yet to meet that cult. But, every 80s movie had to have a powerful theme song, and for this tale of teenage rebellion, they got the great Pat Benatar. She was already a concretely established artist with over six albums and thirteen top 100 singles. While the movie may have bombed, the song did gangbusters, becoming her fourth biggest hit at the time, after "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," "Love is a Battlefield," and "We Belong." That's pretty damn good company. I'm not sure if I would place it fourth in my top ten list of Benatar tracks, as most of Crimes of Passion and Precious Time would make that list, but it is still a kick-ass song with a great chorus.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 48

New Edition - "Count Me Out"



(Single Release: October 1985)
Before the Backstreet Boys, N*Sync, and even before the New Kids on the Block, there was New Edition. Who doesn't like New Edition? Before the term "boy band" became ubiquitous and somewhat slimy, New Edition was simply thought of as reviving the young vocal group tradition of the Jackson 5. In fact, the name "New Edition," was suposed to insinuate that they actually were the new edition of the Jackson 5. However, in 1985, the group was in trouble. Gone were the early teen days of "Candy Girl," "Cool It Now," and "Mr. Telephone Man." They were reaching the later teen stage, already rife with angst, and it caused the splintering of one band mate. As you can see from the video above, Bobby Brown, the singer of the "Mr. Telephone Man" chorus, is noticeably absent. This album would be the last with Brown as part of the group. Later, the band would go on to record one of my favorite songs of theirs, "If It Isn't Love," and would splinter off into the solo acts of Bobby Brown, Johnny Gill, Ralph Tresvant, and the trio of Bell Biv Devoe. As if I have to tell all of you that information, right? Anyway, "Count Me Out" is definitely in the tradition of the group's earliest hits, with the doo-wop harmonized backing vocals and a narrative conversation with the fellas. It is in essence a sequel to "Cool It Now," after the guys had ribbed Ralph for his lovesick pining, he gets the girl, and now in this song, he would rather hang out with his girl than with his guy friends. The video posted above even shows that there is a visual link to the video for "Cool It Now." Very meta. Because a lot of my junior high and high school friends were into alternative rock, as was I, my New Edition fandom was somewhat hidden away. Luckily, my freshman year of college found me in a dorm with one guy who liked metal and another who shared my appreciation for Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike, Ralph, and Johnny. It was a musical smorgasbord. I can tend to poke fun at R&B, slow jams, and New Jack Swing, and even did so for a certain humorous Treblezine article, but in reality, I can't help but like everything New Edition related. Whether it's Ralph's "Sensitivity," Bobby's "Every Little Step," BBD's "Poison," or any smash hit from New Edition, these songs tend to make my world a little brighter.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 47

Level 42 - "Something About You"



(Single Release: September 1985)
There is just something incredibly nerdy about my love of Level 42, and in particular "Lessons in Love" and this 1985 single, "Something About You." But, looking back, it doesn't seem very likely that it was inevitable. This was likely about the time that my father started listening to modern jazz fusion. We, his kids, hated it. No, we don't want to listen to Spyro Gyra, the Yellowjackets, Rippingtons, or Fattburger, thank you very much. Granted, now I could possibly greatly appreciate those bands and actually do, but back then, they were square, pure L7, which is ironic considering that "square" was a term for people like me, who didn't appreciate jazz. Oh well. But, somehow the mainstream pop version of jazz fusion, embodied in Level 42, broke through. It wasn't necessarily because their name was derived from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, though that was certainly cool. After all, if the name had anything to do with it, I would have been way into another of my dad's bands, Shadowfax. No, it just had to do with great songwriting, Mark King's slap-bass stylings that provided a heavy groove, and the juxtaposition of King's lower register voice with keyboard player Mike Lindup's falsetto. All of these are evident in "Something About You," the band's second biggest single, behind the aforementioned "Lessons in Love." A new world of sophisticated, adult-alternative pop had opened up to me. I did not, however, dive in headlong to discover more. I was merely happy enough to enjoy Level 42's songs for the next two and a half decades.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 46

ABC - "Be Near Me"



(Single Release: January 1985)

"The message is perfectly simple, the meaning is clear. Don't ever stray too far, and don't disappear."

The 80s were replete with remixes. 12" singles became stock-in-trade, with anywhere from at least one extended version provided up to, sometimes, and entire album's worth of dance mixes. I was a huge sucker for them. One band in particular that lured me in with the extended singles was ABC. Having scored hits on two previous albums (and more precisely, the first album, The Lexicon of Love), ABC was an already established pop act. But, their third album, How to Be a...Zillionaire!, found main band members Martin Fry and Mark White opting for a completely different look, if not sound. With pop songwriting skills intact, Fry and White recruited two new band members more for their looks than their musical abilities. Though this wasn't the first time that fashion won out over function, it might have been the first time that band members were hired because they looked good as cartoons. Regardless, the album became one of their most commercially successful, spawning four hit singles before they would go back into the studio two years later with an album that would mark a return to the look and feel of their debut. The quotation above is how the song begins and the rest of the song follows the same template of a simple pleading Motown style love song, just without the Motown sound, or at least a more 80s pop version of Motown. It even has a call and response section (possibly my favorite part of the song) that follows, "What's your reputation? Ecstasy. What's your destination? Next to me." I love it. But, one has to wonder whether, in some scientific fashion, whether these songs would have been as successful without the cartoony flash. We would need a control group, a version of ABC without the packaging. A second question follows of whether or not this type of image would be successful outside of 1985. Regardless, "Be Near Me" was ABC's highest charting hit in the US and still a personal favorite.

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 45

Simply Red - "Holding Back the Years"



(Single Release: 1985)
Every so often, a song hits the mainstream charts that I would never have expected. Over the last year, amongst the songs by Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, and Justin Bieber, there were also chart-topping hits by Mumford & Sons. I was both shocked and comforted. It made me wonder whether the same people were listening to all of these artists, or whether this was a unified rebellion by the people who don't usually listen to popular music, with usual eclectic tastes bonding together behind one band to have it infiltrate the mainstream. Somehow, I don't think it's that complicated, but it is nonetheless reassuring. Looking back to 1985, especially amongst the other entries I've made thus far on the blog, I would count Simply Red's "Holding Back the Years" as one of those surprising and comforting anomalies. It is a ballad in the older sense of the word, not a love song, but a narrative set to music, in this case downtempo and more than a bit melancholy. Mick Hucknall wrote the song when he was seventeen, his mother having abandoned him to live with his father when he was but three. "Strangled by the wishes of pater / Hoping for the arm of mater," he sings, though most listeners probably have paid scant attention to the meaning of the lyrics. This is one of a couple songs that make me feel sad about aging. I turn forty this year and it is becoming harder for me to cope with it. I remember turning thirty and hearing another song that always makes me feel sad about aging, Blur's "The Universal." Ten years later and I am no better at coping. But, like every well constructed song, it can be enjoyed without that lyrical dimension. The piano and horns, especially during the bridge, are soothing and reverent of an organic kind of music that was considered passé in the 80s. Hucknall's voice is full of passion. There are only a few voices in popular music I would consider transcendent. Alison Moyet, Marvin Gaye, Jeff Buckley, Robert Plant, Freddie Mercury, Tom Waits, and David Bowie are in that group, and I'd say that Hucknall is not too far behind. His belting of "holding" is certainly powerfully captivating. Just a few short years ago, I was in a small local grocery at the checkout and this song was playing on the overhead system. The somewhat sassy clerk looked up at the speakers, then looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Man, how long has he been holding on? It's time to let go..." I'll always remember that exchange whenever I hear the song and also use it as a way to make myself smile and get over the passing of time. As Damon Albarn sang, "When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go."

Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 44

Falco - "Rock Me Amadeus"



(Single Release: June 1985)
One year after Miloš Forman directed the award winning film, Amadeus came Falco's loving, yet kitschy tribute. Falco, an Austrian pop star, had already become somewhat famous in the U.S. with "Der Kommisar," which was given an English language cover version by British band, After the Fire. "Rock Me Amadeus," however, became the first German language song to hit #1 in the U.S. charts. (I guess "99 Luftballons" didn't make the cut). The song has now become somewhat the butt of jokes in parodying the 80s, mostly thanks to its quite memorable, sing-song chorus, which, along with "Superstar" are the only recognizable English words. Family Guy, Muppet Babies, "Weird" Al, and Adam Sandler have all taken jabs, but the best is definitely The Simpsons' "Rock Me Dr. Zaius" from the Planet of the Apes musical. I can't help but enjoy this song. There is sort of an Adam Ant meets rudimentary rap kind of vibe. One particular YouTube caption claims that this is the best song ever. I can't back up that hyperbole, but I'll side against the naysayers at the very least. By the way, how many other pop songs are there about historic composers? "Lisztomania?" "Roll Over, Beethoven?" Is that it?