Tag Archives: Talking Heads

Revisiting the Canon: Best Albums of 1985

Posted on by

My backwards journey through the pop/rock canon of the 1980s, as inspired by my friend Mike B., continues apace with 1985. Such a transitional year for popular music. It felt like the music industry finally had to start reckoning with MTV, synthesizers, new wave, and a whole bunch of other things they’d been trying to ignore. The historical record shows that there was less consensus than usual regarding which albums from that year really stood out, which strikes me as evidence that everyone’s focus was scattered. Or, put another way, people were listening to a bunch of new things, and tastes changed accordingly.

All of which is to say, it was an easier year than most for being totally subjective.

Ergo, here are some albums from 1985 that I truly love:

Scarecrow, John Cougar Mellencamp

This is another one of those albums where just about every track could’ve been a single. The hooks are abundant, the vocals are tough and confident, and the band has never sounded better. Everything that’s great about Mellencamp’s recorded oeuvre – including his (at the time) burgeoning social conscience – coalesces into its peak form on this record. For me, it’s an all-time classic.

Around the World in a Day, Prince and the Revolution

Full disclosure: this is a purely sentimental pick on my part, and I’m not going to defend it as one of the best albums of its year. It came out during my formative adolescent years, and it has a soft spot in my heart for many inexplicable teenage reasons. Objectively speaking, though, calling Around the World in a Day a transitional record for Prince would be putting it mildly. This was his bizarre, psychedelia-inspired follow-up to Purple Rain, and it confused the hell out of everyone because it was so willfully and aggressively unlike its predecessor. Considering what fans (like myself) had come to expect from The Purple One by that point, some of these songs could easily be called sub-par. But, Prince’s sub-par material was still better than a lot of other artists’ A-list best, and this album was a rebellious announcement to the world that there was more to His Royal Purpleness than “1999” and “Let’s Go Crazy.” Plus, it features my favorite Prince single of them all, the scrumptious “Raspberry Beret.”

Listen Like Thieves, INXS

s

This was the album where INXS’ brand of 1980s new wave got funkier and grittier. There are tasty hooks everywhere on this record, and the band sounds like they’re enjoying their newfound boldness. Listen Like Thieves clocks in at a lean, mean 37 minutes, and INXS make the most of that time: the album contains eleven songs, four of which became Top 40 hits in the U.S. Think of them as Duran Duran with more guitars (which is a compliment, by the way), and you’ll get the idea.

White City: A Novel, Pete Townshend

Pete Townshend spent most of the 1980s making solid solo albums, and this was one of his best. Anchored by an excellent studio band featuring none other than Pink Floyd‘s very own David Gilmour (who does a fabulous job here as Pete’s session guitarist), White City is full of bouncy earworms that show off Townshend’s still vital songwriting acumen. There’s a loose concept binding everything together (not surprising, since Pete wrote one of rock’s pioneering concept albums), but it doesn’t matter. The propulsive strength of tracks like “Face the Face” and “Give Blood” defy conceptual pigeonholing.

Little Creatures, Talking Heads

This might be the Heads’ most overlooked record, and also their most accessible. By 1985, they’d added the sheen of high-end studio production to their jangly, idiosyncratic sound, and gotten even better at writing hooks. Case in point: “And She Was,” “Stay Up Late,” and “Road to Nowhere,” the album’s trio of signature tracks, all of which became rock radio heavy rotation classics. Little Creatures is full of songs like those, that nestle themselves sneakily into one’s psyche. This album didn’t seem like much to me when I first heard it, but then I discovered I could hum the whole thing after listening to it only once. It’s a fun record that goes down easy, and rewards return visits.

The Daily Earworm Shuffle: Part II

Posted on by

Last week, I took a journey through one of my longstanding Spotify playlists: Daily Earworm. It was fun, and much more upbeat than I expected, so I’m doing it again. Here are more highlights from the ongoing set list in my subconscious:

“Reminiscing,” Little River Band: This is one of the yacht rock classics that takes me back to my childhood summer vacations in the Florida panhandle. For me, this is the sound of driving to the beach with my family on a ridiculously sunny day, and, for that reason alone, I will always love yacht rock.

“9 to 5,” Dolly Parton: Over the course of our marriage so far, my wife and I have discovered a couple of things. First, we can watch this movie anytime. It is eternally delightful. Secondly, we both really love Dolly. We will listen to any song of hers, and watch any movie of hers (And, we have.)

“Flash Light,” Parliament: One of my wife’s absolute favorite songs. It ends up on the playlist for every party we throw. We played it at our wedding. I’m guessing it will get played at our respective funerals. Basically, a song for all occasions.

“Here Come Those Tears Again,” Jackson Browne: A rare upbeat-sounding track from Browne that belies its pensive, melancholy lyrics. I’ve always loved his voice and the way he writes, and this is one of my favorites of his.

“The Mandalorian,” Ludwig Goransson: My wife and I were immediately taken with this show when it premiered last year, and especially with its soundtrack. I’m a longtime fan of film and television music, so it didn’t take any doing for this to enter my heavy rotation for a week or two.

“I Believe (When I Fall in Love it Will be Forever),” Stevie Wonder: Speaking of TV shows, have you seen the new High Fidelity series with Zoe Kravitz? It is so well done, and I highly recommend it. This was another one I binged right away when it premiered, and I loved the way it used this song, both as connective tissue to its movie version and as a bit of a thematic inversion from the way it was used in the movie. Super clever and super cool.

“Stand Up,” Cynthia Erivo: Another catchy movie song, delivered with catchy conviction by Erivo. I couldn’t hear this one enough the day after I saw Harriet.

“Walking on a Thin Line,” Huey Lewis and the News: A rare moment of gravitas for this pack of Bay Area favorites. It’s not quite convincing, but it doesn’t really matter because everything else that’s great about them – catchy hooks, a tight rhythm section, and Huey’s smooth vocals – is on full display.

“If I Should Fall from Grace with God,” The Pogues: This raucous celebration of a song needs no explanation. But, if you do need one, just picture yourself and your mates listening to this while sharing a pitcher in your favorite pub. There you go.

“The Dicty Glide,” Don Byron: This album, Byron’s tribute to the work of the Raymond Scott Quintette, the John Kirby Sextet and Duke Ellington, became a favorite of mine when I worked at a record store during college. I played it in the store as often as I could, and it always made my shift go by faster (plus, I never failed to sell a copy or two).

“Walk it Down,” Talking Heads: A subtly catchy tune from a cleverly crafted Heads album. This band truly did not know how to do anything poorly.

“Jigsaw Puzzle,” The Rolling Stones: A forgotten track from a classic Stones album. This was back when they were transitioning from learning their trade in record time to becoming the self-professed Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World. No wonder they could bill themselves as such with a throwaway this good.

“How Much Did You Get for Your Soul?,” The Pretenders: Slick, shiny, synth-tinged Pretenders still pack a punch. Chrissie Hynde’s patented snarl comes through no matter how studio musicians she surrounds herself with.

“I Say a Little Prayer,” Aretha Franklin: I’ve written about this one before. Suffice it to say, one of the greatest covers of all time.

“The Chamber of 32 Doors,” Genesis: One day, I’ll write something extensive about how much I love this band. For now, though, I continue to marvel at how much their inherent pop sensibilities shine through the prog rock conventions of the mid-1970s. Mind-blowing to this day.

The Daily Earworm Shuffle

Posted on by

Every day, I wake up humming a random song in my head. I have no idea why. That’s just the way my subconscious works. And, once I realized that this was a thing I did, I decided it would be interesting to keep track of these songs

So, I started building a Spotify playlist titled Daily Earworm.

I hadn’t listened to that playlist once since I started it over a year ago, but I still put stuff on there almost every day, and it’s over 13 hours long now.

So, this past week, I decided to finally give it a listen and remind myself what was on there, which has easily been one of the highlights of my home quarantine so far. Here’s a random sampling:

“Warning Sign,” Talking Heads: I first heard this on their live album, The Name of This Band is Talking Heads, but the version here is the original from their second album. This one slinks and moves like the live version, but is way more ominous and urgent. Could be the added studio polish, or it could be our current moment in time colliding with a song perfectly suited for it.

“What Goes On,” The Velvet Underground: Last month, I went through a few days where I was bummed out about the aftermath of Super Tuesday, for so many reasons, and the most effective emotional salve turned out to be listening to Lou Reed’s back catalogue. This was one of his tracks I rediscovered, a peppy little number that I always overlook because the idea of Lou Reed or The Velvets being this upbeat does not compute.

“She Gave Good Sunflower,” The Black Crowes: A great track for keeping one’s spirits up during an emergency run to the grocery store in the middle of a global pandemic.

“Street Theory,” Van Morrison: A total throwaway that proves, once again, that Van can get good and funky when he wants to.

“It’s Not Where You Start, It’s Where You Finish,” Tommy Tune: It’s easy to see why Tommy Tune became a Broadway star. As is the case with the best Broadway cast albums (in this case, Seesaw), he does such a great job with this song – and the song itself works so well as a musical theater number – I feel like I can see his performance while listening to it.

“Absolute Zero,” Bruce Hornsby (featuring Jack DeJohnette): Another fascinating curiosity from Hornsby, whose facility with melody never fails to impress me, and whose melodies never fail to lodge themselves permanently in my brain.

“I Love Paris,” Frank Sinatra: I don’t actually remember waking up humming this one, but my wife was in Paris the week before our home quarantine started, so that must have been where this came from. Besides, one can never really have enough Sinatra on any playlist.

“Yakety Yak,” The Coasters:  Another one I don’t recall waking up humming, but one can never really have enough early Top 40 rock and roll on any playlist.

“Hello, Dolly!” Mary Martin: The morning after I saw the most recent national tour, it was this version of this iconic title song that I wanted to hear. No idea why.

“Teacher, Teacher,” Rockpile: A gem from the early 1980s rockabilly revival. The perfect gateway drug for going down a Nick Lowe / Dave Edmunds rabbit hole.

“Long Time,” The Roots: This went on heavy rotation the day after my wife and I saw them live in Oakland last fall. This earworm is stealthy as a mofo.

“Blinded by the Light,” Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: A sentimental favorite from the days when I first discovered classic rock. No apologies here.

“See Me Through, Pt. II / Just a Closer Walk with Thee,” Van Morrison: Nothing to see here except Van giving a well-known hymn from his youth the old Caledonia soul treatment. Would that church sounded like this all the time.

“What’cha Say,” The Meters: This track moves and grooves, and is as catchy as all get-out.

“High Flying, Adored,” Patti LuPone & Mandy Patinkin: I didn’t realize I had so many show tunes on this playlist. And, of all the tracks I could’ve picked from the Evita cast album, why did I pick this one? Does it matter? My subconscious is a mysterious place, but Patti and Mandy are always justified.