I am someone who enjoys music from all eras. That includes the 1990s, most of which I spent lugging babies around, changing their diapers, and playing Barbies with my girls, rather than paying much attention to popular music.
I've come to appreciate that decade's musical offerings retrospectively.
The point is, I like a lot of music today, I like classical music of 200 years ago, I like Big Band and bebop jazz of the 1940s and 50s, I like a whole bunch of 60s and 70s tunes, and I like music from the 80s.
Actually, I love the music of the 80s. New Wave, "college music" (that's what they used to call bands like REM, Husker Du, The Smiths and U2), heavy metal, whatever. I'm pretty sure not a day goes by when I don't listen to at least one 80s tune in my car, while I'm washing the dishes, or while I'm out walking.
A lot of people make fun of 80s music, and I get why. The associated fashion of the time was, shall we say, often garish. And there are plenty of songs from that era that are indefensible in any way other than to say they're fun.
Which is just fine. Not every song has to be deep and philosophical to be enjoyable.
You might argue that the only reason I'm so attached to 80s music is because that was the decade when I came of age, as they say. I was in high school from 1984 to 1988, and even before that as a middle schooler I bought more than my share of 45s and cassettes from the popular bands of the day.
But I think it goes beyond that. If there wasn't some intrinsic value to the music, it wouldn't be in such heavy rotation on my phone, nor would it populate my playlists like it does.
My favorites are Sting and The Police. My first concert was Sting at Cleveland's Public Hall in February 1988. I attach a lot of sentimental value and core memories to his songs. I think they still hold up very well.
Then there are Men at Work (the first band I really, really got into), Duran Duran, The Fixx, Howard Jones, Billy Joel, Iron Maiden (my favorite metal group), Huey Lewis, and a host of others I'm forgetting. They made music that was full of melody, musicianship and meaning, if you'll pardon the unintentional alliteration.
As I type this post, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Buffalo waiting to attend a work-related meeting. "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics is playing over the PA system, taking me back in time to 1984. I'm the only one nodding my head and singing along.
And I guarantee I'll still be doing that when I'm 90 years old and an MTV-era song comes on.
I'm a nostalgic guy who looks back fondly on his younger years.
The music to which I listen is one example of this. I have many modern/semi-current tracks in my library, and I try to listen to new stuff all the time, but there's no denying that my tastes lean very heavily toward the 1980s.
For every Harry Styles song I own, you'll find 30 by The Police, 25 by Men at Work, 20 by Duran Duran, and heck, probably five by Kajagoogoo.
I follow quite a few retro 80s accounts on Twitter because I enjoy the cultural memories they feature. One of those accounts recently posted a question that caught my interest: If you woke up one day and realized you had been transported back to the 80s, what would you do?
If you are younger than 33, the first thing you would do is wonder why you had been sent to a time before you were even born.
But if you are 53 like me, this becomes something to ponder. If I was sent back in time 40 years, and if, let's say, I was only allowed to stay there a few hours before returning to the present, what would be my priorities?
Here are the five things I would probably do:
(1) Sit and talk with my mom and dad (and if they happen to be visiting, my sisters and brother): Kids, once your parents are gone, you can't believe the things you would do to see them again. They would wonder why 13-year-old me had suddenly taken such a deep interest in having a protracted conversation with them, but it would be amazing. The first thing I would do is walk into the living room and talk with them.
(2) Head to the arcade: I would have to spend at least a half hour at Galaxy Gardens, our local game room. I expended untold amounts of time and money there and it was wonderful. I could do without people smoking indoors like they used to, but hey, that's the price you pay for the privilege of time travel.
(3) Turn on the TV: It wouldn't take long to cruise through the 36 channels we had from Continental Cablevision, so I would stop at MTV and watch some of those classic music videos when they were still fresh and new.
(4) Round up my friends: This would involve actually going to their houses and/or calling their landlines (gasp!), but any combination of Matt, Kevin, Jason, Mike, Todd, etc. I could rouse would be worth the effort. Even if we just headed down to the railroad tracks and hung out (it was much more fun than it sounds, believe me).
(5) Enjoy the freedom of being without a smartphone: I could easily do this now by simply leaving my phone at home, but it wouldn't be quite the same. There was something appealing about a world in which you were mostly unreachable most of the time and everyone was OK with that. As miraculous as the iPhone is as a technological innovation, it also comes with hidden shackles I wouldn't mind shedding for a few hours.
HONORABLE MENTION: 1983 was three years before I started dating Terry, so I might ride my bike to Robert Street on the other end of Wickliffe and see if I could catch a glimpse of her at home. This sort of stalking was frowned upon even then, however, so it might also lead to me spending a few hours in an early-80s jail cell.
Before we jump into yet another five-item list here on the ol' blog, let me point out something.
The title of this post is "Five quintessentially 80s songs." Not "THE five quintessentially 80s songs." Just five of them from what is presumably a much longer list.
So don't get your panties in a bunch complaining about my choices, which by the way are exquisite. If you have additions, please, add them in the comments.
I suppose I mean at least three things by the phrase "quintessentially 80s":
These are songs that define or really capture some part of the decade's vibe and feel.
They are songs that may still be listened to and enjoyed by many, but that I submit could only have been hits in the 80s.
And they're songs that I like. As I always say, I'm pushing the keys here, so I make the rules.
Anyway, in no particular order, here are five quintessentially 80s songs:
I Ran - Flock of Seagulls
I have this belief that no discussion of 80s music or culture is complete without at least a passing mention of Flock of Seagulls. They weren't especially huge, as New Wave bands go, but lead singer Mike Score's hair and their overall sound were very much representative of what was going on in one segment of pop music in, say, 1982 and '83.
My friend Mel was a huge Flock of Seagulls fan and had all of their music on cassette. This was before the CD era, of course, but long after vinyl had stopped being cool. Ironically, vinyl is ultra-hip and cool today, which just goes to prove what Mark Twain said about history not necessarily repeating itself, but it sure does rhyme a lot.
Down Under - Men at Work
There are probably few people in the U.S. (or even the world) who still listen to Men at Work as frequently and as enthusiastically as I do. Their sound is dated in many ways, but I guess that's why I like it. "Business As Usual," the album on which "Down Under" appeared, could only have clicked on a global scale as it did in the early 80s, largely as a reaction to much of the blandness that proceeded it on the pop charts in 1979 and '80.
This particular tune resonated with millions partly because it helped bring about a massive wave of interest in Australia, a continent we had all sort of collectively forgotten about for several decades prior. Suddenly it was like, "Hey, remember Australia? They're all so cool down there! And how about that Crocodile Dundee?"
Greg Ham's flute riff defines this song for many, but it doesn't work without Colin Hay's voice and phrasing. The original version of this song, as Colin likes to point out, was much darker than the pop version that swept the world. But no one was really interested in dark and dreary at that point in history, so the cheery remix prevailed.
Come On, Eileen - Dexy's Midnight Runners
If someone brings up the topic of 80s one-hit wonders, this is your go-to band. I never quite got the whole overalls-and-bandanna ragamuffin look they were going for, but that's OK because this tune is one I can listen to again and again.
By the way, lots of misheard lyrics in this song, including the very garbled first stanza. For the record, it goes like this:
Poor old Johnnie Ray Sounded sad upon the radio Moved a million hearts in mono Our mothers cried, sang along Who would blame them?
Not Shakespeare, I guess, but better than, say, Vanilla Ice.
99 Luftballoons - Nena
We're talking about the German version here, not that weak English-translated "99 Red Balloons." Nena is Nena only when she's speaking der Deutsch and showing off her hairy armpits. (And for what it's worth, the English translation wasn't a direct translation, so it's not even the same song, really.)
I guess this was designed to be an anti-war song of sorts, which would make sense from a German band working in the early 80s. They lived in a place where the Cold War was being waged on a daily basis.
But what everyone really liked was the beat of the song, and specifically the synthesized bass line. The song could have been about floor wax for all it mattered, and none of us knew what Nena's German lyrics meant anyway. A worthy addition to any list of great 80s songs.
Video Killed the Radio Star - The Buggles
Nowadays, this songs only gets mentioned as the answer to a trivia question: namely, what video was the first one ever played on MTV?
But it's a good tune in its own right and it gets heavy rotation on my iPod (to which you're probably responding, "Of COURSE it does.")
Technically, "Video Killed the Radio Star" doesn't even belong on this list because it was officially released in 1979. But because of the MTV connection, and because of what it represented, it deserves a place here. It tells the story of the passing of one era and the dawn of another, which reminds me that there really was a kind of collective anticipation as the 70s were ending and the 80s began.
Of course, by the time the 90s rolled around, all we had to show for the decade were crates of unsold parachute pants and a hole in the ozone layer caused by the use of millions of metric tons of Aquanet hairspray, so I'm not exactly sure what everyone was so jazzed about.
