Electro Classic Jukebox: Berlin.

Oh, I had such an immense crush on Terri Nunn back in the day. Their first (and most controversial – many radio stations refused to play it on the grounds of its "graphic" lyrics) single, "Sex (I'm A)" practically made my 12-year old head explode. Even now, nearly thirty years later, listening to Nunn's purring and sexually charged voice can make my blood pressure shoot through the roof. But arguably their greatest moment came with the release of "The Metro," which stands out in my opinion as one of the greater achievements of synths-as-purveyors-of-mood in the early '80s, period. I mean, just listen to it! It was a truly defining moment for the New Wave synth-pop movement back in the day – a gleefully wondrous and thrilling mix of punk and pop that utilized the multi-layered synths in such a way that the listener was immediately transported to another time and place. The longing and loathing of the lyrics were perfectly captured by the brilliant Nunn, whilst the constantly driving and thoroughly exciting music nimbly captured the feel of trundling motion underneath the City of Lights. Nice touch at the end, utilizing the French police sirens, as well! In 2004, Nunn (alongside an entirely new Berlin lineup) decided to rerecord "The Metro," as well as a few other of their greatest hits – sorry, hon, but it's nowhere as cool, original and refreshing as the originals. Accepting no substitutes!


From Berlin's 1982 sophomore record, Pleasure Victim, here's Nunn and company with their awesome track "The Metro." Enjoy!

Electro Classic Jukebox: Cabaret Voltaire.

"There's 70 billion people over there."
"Where they hiding?"
"There's 70 billion people over there."
"Where they hiding? Where they hiding?"


And thus begins "Yashar," one of my all-time favourite tracks from Sheffield-based electronic pioneers Cabaret Voltaire. Having formed in 1973, well ahead of the vast majority of their future post-punk peers, Cabaret Voltaire began their two-decade career performing not necessarily "music" per-se, but a fascinating hybrid of Dadaist (they were named after the famous Zurich, Switzerland Dada club after all) performance art, featuring (amongst other things) feedback, bleeping synth noises, and endless taped loops of sampled sounds, voices, and strange, experimental static. It wasn't until 1979 that they released their first "proper" LP, the noise-punk manifesto Mix-Up. (If one is interested in hearing what CV was up to during those heady days of noise manipulation and experimentation, then one should go forth and find their 1980 cassette-only compilation 1974-1976.)


Originally a trio consisting of Richard Kirk, Chris Watson, and Stephen Mallinder, after Watson's departure in 1981, they became a duo. Many albums throughout the '80s and early '90s were to follow, including such classics as Red Mecca (1981), The Crackdown (1983), Drinking Gasoline (1985 EP), Plasticity (1992), and The Conversation (1994). 1982's 2X45 (so named because it consisted of 2 45RPM 12" records (goddamn, now that would be a collector's item worth having, wouldn't it?)) was the last album released with Chris Watson as a member, and it is also the album from which "Yashar" is culled.


So here is "Yashar." Listen to it, and try to imagine ambient music as we know it without the influence of these mightily talented and influential Sheffielders. I certainly doubt there'd be any Aphex Twin, that's for sure. Enjoy!





And, from their 1985 EP Drinking Gasoline, here's another terrific track "Ghostalk." Goddamn, I love this shit.

Electro Classic Jukebox: Duran Duran.

Two things. First, a heartfelt "thank you" to EMI Records for finally enabling embedding on their music videos. Truth be told, I'm not really sure what the issue with embedding was in the first place -- it's not like I was stealing the music and sharing it with somebody else without giving EMI their piece of the pie or anything like that! Rather, I like to think that the act of embedding music on a blog or a website actually is a form of free advertising for their "product," more than anything else. Somebody sees the blog, likes what they hear, and maybe -- just maybe -- they'll go to their local record shop or iTunes and make a purchase. Everybody wins, and blah blah blah. So thank you, EMI, for finally seeing the light. Embedding is not stealing. Yay.


Secondly, thank you to Chez Pazienza at Deus Ex Malcontent for posting Duran Duran today.  Their 1982 masterpiece Rio, long a favourite album of mine, is mind-bendingly chockfull of brilliant moments, and always well worth a listen from front to back. Every song on this work is a highlight, whether it's the title track with its chorus "Her name is Rio, and she dances on the sand," the monumental minimalism of "The Chauffeur," the heady (and probably best-known) urgency of "Hungry Like The Wolf," or the out-and-out rock 'n' roll rollicking of "Last Chance On The Stairway." Rio is a work of genius, and frankly has not aged a day since it was released nearly thirty years ago.


For what it's worth, my favourite track off Rio is "Save A Prayer." It has racked up hundreds of plays on my iPod and iTunes; and that's not even taking into account how many times I've played it on vinyl, cassette tape, and CD. There's something magical about it -- is it the slightly Asian influence in the opening synths? John Taylor's immaculately performed bass riffs? Simon le Bon's mature and realistic musings on a one night stand? Is it how the entire band gels and performs a nearly 6-minute perfect pop song in a day and age where the norm was three and a half? Who knows? It's just a fantastic song. "And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance, but fear is in your soul / Some people call it a one night stand, but we can call it paradise." 


Indeed.

duran duran

"save a prayer"

rio

Electro Classic Jukebox: Peter Schilling.

Hello, everybody. Happy Tuesday to you and yours! Today I thought I'd share with you all an absolutely fantastic gem from 1982 that's been popping up on my playlist lately - and it's a track that I just can't get enough of. I'm speaking, of course, of "Major Tom (Coming Home)" - or "Major Tom (Völlig Iosgelöst)", meaning "totally disconnected" in its native German - by the Stuttgart, Germany-based 80's synth-wizard Peter Schilling.

Taking David Bowie's 1969 masterpiece "Space Oddity" as its inspiration, "Major Tom (Coming Home)" takes a stab at describing the experiences of Major Tom as he launches into the great void above and loses contact with Ground Control. "Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows," Bowie crooned toward the end. What Schilling wanted to do with "Major Tom" was to tell the story from Major Tom's point of view - what was happening to him after his last transmission?

Far beneath the ship

The world is mourning

They don't realize he's alive

No one understands but Major Tom sees

"Now the light commands

This is my home,

I'm coming home,"

the lyrics go. It packs an emotional punch - there's a lovely melancholic sensibility going on here, and I find it absolutely irresistible. The song was originally sung in German (which is the version I'm currently listening to), but was rerecorded in English as the single, like Major Tom himself, launched into the stratosphere. It was also to be, alas, Herr Schilling's one and only hit.

But what a hit it was! Here's the English version:



... And here's the 12" version, with fantastic Japanese anime images put together by intoantics. It's pretty spectacular, so I recommend watching this one on a large screen.

Electro Classic Jukebox: Icehouse.

Even though I just finished working on this Icehouse essay on their debut album Flowers, it unfortunately got back-logged to the month of May, so some new readers might not get a chance to read it. However, there's always room for more Icehouse, so I'd like to share with you one of my favorite tracks of theirs.

Originally released in 1982 on the album Primitive Man, "Great Southern Land" was subsequently re-released in the United States in 1989 on the compilation album also known as Great Southern Land. It is also, to this day, the single most popular song from Icehouse's oeuvre. It was also featured in a really really really terrible Yahoo Serious film called Young Einstein. Have you seen this "film"? I truly and deeply love and respect Australia and its citizens (in fact, I've plans on moving there later this year), but seriously (haha) - their export of Yahoo Serious should be investigated by Interpol as one of the more atrocious international crimes ever committed. He is that unfunny.

But I digress. The song in question is quite good - filled to the brim with chunky guitar riffs, hypnotic drumming, spacey sound-effects, and a beautiful, soaring synth that nicely dove-tails the whole thing, coloring everything the shade of an Australian sunset (which are quite beautiful). Iva Davies' falsetto voice finishes things off nicely as he sings of his lovely island home and of how it's been ravaged over and over again ever since it was a "prison island."

Great Southern Land, Great Southern Land

You walk alone, like a primitive man

You walk alone with the ghosts of time

And they burned you black,

Yeah, they burned you black.

Anyway, with no further ado, here is Icehouse and the gorgeous desert-set video for "Great Southern Land." Just like with INXS' "Kiss The Dirt," there are fires in the desert at night! Sounds like a great party. Enjoy, my friends. And check out that awesome goanna!

Electro Classic Jukebox: Eurythmics.

As I was writing my recent review for the LCD Soundsystem show last week, I'd made the point that one of the tracks off their new album This Is Happening, "I Can Change," reminded me of early Eurythmics. What song was it, I asked myself, aware that I hadn't really listened to Annie Lennox and Dave Stewarts' deliciously icy pop in quite some time. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued, so I pulled out my little collection of their first three albums - In The Garden, Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This), and Touch - and proceeded to have myself a sweet little Eurythmics listening party. Cool! I had completely forgotten what a rich treasure trove of material those two had put out during the first half of the 80's.

Cutting edge synths and beautiful orchestrations beautifully dovetailed with Lennox's silky alto voice on such choice tracks like "Who's That Girl?," "Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)," and "Here Comes The Rain Again," propelling them to the top of the electro scene back in the day. After I realized what song LCD Soundsystem's single had reminded me of ("Love Is A Stranger" off of SD(AMOT), in case you were curious), I dutifully visited our dear friend YouTube and watched the video!

The video has it all: A mysterious chauffeur, a nighttime ride through the streets of London, a creepy puppet, and the one and only Lennox wearing BDSM-inspired clothing with a multitude of sexy wigs over her shock of bright red hair. Watch out for her (looking awfully damn sexy, by the way) writhing on a bathroom floor with a length of film - damn, she's freaking hot! And the lyrics themselves, in my own humble opinion, are really quite frank and honest in describing love itself. Here's a sample: "It's guilt-edged, glamorous and sleek by design/You know it's jealous by nature, false and unkind/It's hard and restrained and it's totally cool/It touches and it teases as you stumble in the debris" And it's absolutely fabulous when delivered by Lennox's smoky voice.

Also - watch for Dave Stewart (as the aforementioned chauffeur) pulling out a phone that looks suspiciously like an iPhone. See? They were ahead of their time!

So, with no further ado, here's the video for "Love Is A Stranger." Damn, I'm glad for my little listening party - their music will certainly continue in my ongoing shuffle!

Electro Classic Jukebox: Blancmange.

Released as a single in 1982 off their first album Happy Families, Blancmange's "Living On The Ceiling" is, in my opinion, a perfect example of a surprise hit. Formed in the late '70s in the London borough of Harrow (to the far, far west of my girlfriend's northwest London flat in West Hampstead), Blancmange was one of the many synth-pop bands who missed the "wave," so to speak, and rather petered out after just a couple of albums (they released two others: 1984's Mange Tout, and Believe You Me from 1985). But one has to admit that "Living On The Ceiling" is one hell of a strong single. It's catchy and fun, and the lyrics are thoughtful and intelligent. It's also in possession of a rather goofy sensibility, propelled by Neil Arthur's deep and forceful voice.

Fun trivia item: Israel's Channel One program used the main theme of "Living On The Ceiling" as the introduction for their Arabic news program. Listen to the song - there's definitely an Arabic sound in the synths!

Here is Blancmange performing "Living On The Ceiling" on the UK pop music show, The Tube in 1982. Enjoy, dear readers! Happy March - and how about that hockey game? Was that awesome, or what?

Electro Classic Jukebox: A Flock Of Seagulls.

You know, there are certain moments when one is young, and a song will come right out and go through you. It speaks volumes about where you've been, who you are, and what you make about the world in which you live. "Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)" is one of those songs; at least for me. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but there's just a certain emotive energy at work here in this track that, for lack of a better word, speaks to me. It's not as if A Flock Of Seagulls is one of my favorite bands, either -- frankly, I've managed to intentionally ignore most of their output, and at the same time not really fret about what I may be missing, but -- this song! It's nearly perfect. Mike Score's voice does a brilliant job of conveying a sense of longing, and the music is just top-notch. I love the buzzing guitars, the special effects layered over Ali's (Mike's brother) drumming, and the noodling and quite catchy synths. And what can I say about the video, except that I'm a sucker for science fiction imagery, especially the interior of spaceships! And can we all agree that that was one hell of a haircut? From Liverpool, UK, here's A Flock Of Seagulls with their 1982 single "Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)." Enjoy!