The Only 1983 Playlist That Matters: Rad New Wave Hitz 4U!

  

I was originally planning to do a single playlist for 1983. I ended up creating six. As it happens 1983 was even more pivotal a year than I'd expected. There was so much going on in so many different genres that I realized how much 1983 had spoiled me for every year that followed it. 

I mean, this 1983 excursion is going to have nearly as many songs as the 90s megalist. That's how pivotal a year it was. 

We're going to be listening to a very wide range of styles, from bubblegum pop to kill-your-mother metal, from the Top 40 to the truly underground. But since the evolution of New Wave rock from the occasional novelty hit to ruling the mainstream is the big story of 1983, we'll start there. 

Meanwhile, don't forget to read '1983: The Year That Broke Reality' on The Secret Sun. 

Anyway, "Legal Tender" is one of my go-to songs when I puzzle over what was so different about 1983. I wish I were well-versed in music theory because there's something very unusual going on in this song. Sure, there's that weird 80s synth, Kate and Cindy's perky pep squad vocals and Ricky Wilson's off-kilter guitar riffs, but there's something else I just can't put my finger on. 

Is it the weird chord changes that don't seem to resolve to the tonic at the end of each measure? Is there some kind of suspension going on? 

Help a brother out, theory nerds. 

There's something elusively 1983 about this song as well. So much so that I can't imagine it being released any other year. I'm not sure why - for all I know it was recorded in 1982. Then again a lot of these records were. But magic doesn't recognize causality, does it? 

The inherent sadness of the lyric is only augmented by the home movie motif, since everyone knows old home movies are the saddest thing ever.

This song, conversely, reminds me of The Police covering a Gerry Rafferty song. Which is probably quintessentially 1983, right? I was going to pick "It's a Mistake" instead, but this one went with the Talking Heads song better. 

'83 would mark the end of Men at Work's glory days, alas.

Same with Bow Wow Wow, sadly. They'd freed themselves from the creepy, bony fingers of Malcolm "Chickenhawk" McLaren and made what I think is by far their best album, but things were moving too fast and their time had come and gone. 

Even so, words cannot express the width and breadth of the fanboy crush I had on Annabella -- especially in 1983, when she'd reached the full flower of her femininity --  and the late Matthew Ashman is a true unsung guitar hero.

Ultravox had gotten a whole new lease on life when Midge Ure joined up for the landmark Vienna album and their next album (1984's Lament) was a moderate hit in Europe and the UK, but time had already passed them by as well. As I said things were moving incredibly fast in the early 80s and a 70s vintage band like Ultravox were yesterday's news.

Pete Shelley had earned the success that had eluded the Buzzcocks with 1981's "Homosapien," but he too was seen as another 70s-vintage leftover. Worse, he was running out of material after having released a fairly sizable body of work with the 'Cocks (there are only 12 notes, dig?). But speed up the tempos on his first two solo albums and you have the essential formula Stock, Aitken and Waterman would take straight to the bank a few years later.

Legendary science-fiction author Norman Spinrad famously said, “The saddest day of your life is when you decide to sell out, and nobody wants to buy.” Those are words that Gang of Four would have done well to consider before making complete and utter fools of themselves with 1983's risible sell-out-to-end-all-sell-outs, Hard.  

Which totally bombed, by the way.

This featherweight disco track probably would have served a 70s outfit like the Atlanta Rhythm Section or Ray Parker & Raydio fairly well, but in the hands of self-proclaimed Marxist revolutionaries it's just an utter embarrassment. The video makes it all unimaginably more ridiculous, with Andy Gill twitching like he's having a minor stroke event.

Prince knew which way the wind was blowing and moved in the exact opposite direction as the hapless Gang of Four. Realizing Disco had worn out its welcome, Prince fully embraced the New Wave and made himself a household name with the 1999 double LP. 

Melle Mel, who'd led a mutiny of the Furious Five away from Grandmaster Flash, found inspiration in the postpunk dance scene and rapped his "White Lines" over "The Cavern" by NYC hipsters Liquid Liquid. 

As far as I can recall this was the end of his chart run, but what a way to go. And a very fitting track for the year of Scarface.

Aformentioned Svengali Malcolm McLaren had a big club hit with 1982's 'Buffalo Gals', which was inspired by the early socializing of Hip-Hop beatmasters and East Village weirdos. I like McLaren's Afrobeat-hijacking 'Double Dutch' a lot better, and it offers up a strong dose of that elusive 1983 energy.

You can be damn sure Paul Simon felt the same way, seeing as how he'd make a whole album of "Double Dutch" knockoffs a few years later.

Wall of Voodoo entered the great halls of one-hit wonderdom with "Mexican Radio," one of the weirdest hit singles ever recorded. Lead weirdo Stan Ridgway apparently got a big head over its success and quit for an underwhelming solo career soonafter. 

Ridgway's replacement was... no. Just no.

The Romantics seemed doomed to wander those same halls after 1980's 'What I Like About You,' but seemed to achieve a rare state of dual one-hit wonderdom with this hit, which sounds nothing like their earlier hit. Such was 1983's magic. They'd have a minor hit the following year but later years would be far less forgiving than MCMLXXXIII.

A Flock of Seagulls were written off as a novelty act, largely thanks to their haircuts. But name a song that evokes the fleeting passions of youth better than 'Space-Age Love Song.' 

Go ahead.

See? You can't.

The 'Gulls were a very solid 80s pop act that produced two great singles in 1983, including this one. You can bet your bottom Bitcoin that Robert Smith was kicking himself for not writing it.

The Stray Cats were another early 80s band that would fall prey to 1983's merciless winnowing, but this is as good a single as any they made. And we won't talk about Phantom, Rocker and Slick now, will we? Of course not, no one does. Well, except maybe masochists.

This video is a 1983 as it could possibly get, but this tune could have been recorded any number of years. In fact, it kind of reminds me of Rocky Burnette's "Tired of Toein' the Line" on meth. Still, it's a terrific single and far fresher than what those other Cats were serving up.

Apparently still stinging from the despair of not having written 'Nightmares,' Robert Smith's new Cure muscled in on Stray Cats territory in their own inimitable fashion in 1983. Bear in mind they'd released Pornography the year before, an exercise in bleak that made Joy Division sound like Up With People.

The Plimsouls were the ones who should have been depressed, having written this bulletproof power-pop masterpiece and getting little more than a spot on the Valley Girl soundtrack for their trouble. But on the other hand, Nic Cage is God.

This is a fine example of the weird nexus between 1983 and 1979, since I could've sworn for the longest time this came in the latter, not the former.

The Fixx were riding high in 1983, having scored some big hits as well as the coveted support slot on The Police's massive Synchronicity tour. They were a very good band with a solid resume of great singles but were crippled by the fact that their lead singer is an insufferable douchebag of Biblical proportions. 

Still, The Fixx pissed their names deep into 1983's snow and you can never take that away from them.

HOW MANY HITS DID YOU HAVE, MR. SMARTY PANTS?

Burning Sensations were formed out of the ashes of the original Motels. The band were either all fired or left eventually because it was too painful having to look at Martha Davis' gorgeosity all day and night ('Only the Lonely' director Russell Mulcahy said Davis was so beautiful she was hard to look at). Lead Sensation Tim McGovern was tapping that for a couple years, so he should be every aspiring guitarist's hero. I know he's mine.

That said, this is another song ripe to bursting with 1983 essence. I can't quite put my finger on the reason why. It also always reminded me of the kind of thing the Combat Rock-era Clash were trying to achieve. Maybe they should have eased up on the drugs a bit. Rehearsing once in a while wouldn't have killed them either.

Bonus factoid: David Fincher got his start making Motels videos. One of those is from 1983 but I can't find one on YouTube that doesn't look like it was copied from a Fisher-Price camera.

Bonus factoid: The Burning Sensations achieved immortality with their cover of Jonathan Richman's 'Pablo Picasso' on the Repo Man soundtrack.

Speaking of The Clash, one-time Clash-clones Red Rockers had a hit with a very quintessential '83-sounding song (what is it about that year?). If the drummer looks familiar, you're probably a Stiff Little Fingers fan. In which case, I LOVE YOU.

Peter Godwin was having a very good 1983. And by "very good," I mean "very flush," on account of Bowie covering his 'Criminal World' on Let's Dance. He racked up a couple hits in '82 and '83, including this one, which I always thought was a Kajagoogoo song. Or did I think 'Too Shy' was a Peter Godwin song? 

I was high pretty much from sunrise to sundown back then, so don't ask me to make these types of fine distinctions.

Nena had a pleasurable 1983, scoring gold with this insufferably catchy song. Fake hardcore band 7 Seconds later covered it, which is one of the reasons I never took them seriously.

Bonus factoid: the German lyrics are about UFOs.

There were so many great one-hit wonders in 1983, including this very peppy and hyper little wonder. Was this on the Grosse Pointe Blank soundtrack? It should have been. 

This is the song 'I Melt with You' wishes it could be.

This song came out around the same time as 'Whisper to a Scream' and could have been the same band for all anyone knew. No one remembers this song or this band, which is a shame. I guess REM would make better use of the formula. Or maybe it was the singer's cringey beret that sunk them.

The Bongos came out of the scene at Maxwell's in Hoboken, which means I was reflexively inclined to want to see them eaten by sharks. I did hate their early singles but they got their shit together for this fine number. I think it's the eBow that hooked me.

Even so, I always thought Richard Barone looked a little too much like the young Paul McCartney for my liking. Was he cloned from the same vat as Billy Shears?

This is the song you hate yourself for liking. And by 'you,' I mean 'me.' It's abominably stupid and annoying but also abominably catchy. Jeremy Healy dances like a Deliverance extra with genital warts and looks like John Cooper Clarke transitioning into the early Pete Burns. And Kate Garner looks like... looks like...

Oh fuck. Kate Garner looks like a GODDESS. 

So I ask myself; do I actually like this song or was my adolescent brain just MK'd by that slinking midriff? Probably a mix of the two. More the latter, though.

1983 The The were the meat in an annoying The The sandwich. Matt Johnson's early stuff sounds like Cabaret Voltaire's floor sweepings to me and he turned into the unholy pretentious lovechild of Bono and Ed Kowalczyk as the decade wore on. 

Even so, this is a great single and again: what IS that ephemeral 1983 essence I can taste but not describe? Don't you dare say it's the accordion.

WHERE ARE MY THEORY PEEPS?

I have a terrible confession to make: I think early Ministry kicks ass on Psalm 69 Ministry. And don't get me started on the rest of it. If anyone tells you smoking angel dust all the livelong day is a victimless crime, just show them Al Jourgensen before-and-after's. 

Sure, I liked when he was ripping off Cabaret Voltaire (Twitch), Skinny Puppy (Land of Rape and Honey) and Killing Joke (Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste) but the man had mad new wave disco skills infused with a dark undercurrent. Top 40 radio needed that more than alt.rock needed another acid-damaged metal-mutant.

So weird to think Ministry was once serving up sounds that'd fit comfortably on a playlist with early Tears for Fears, isn't it? I know the second LP had all the big hits but give me The Hurting all day. And there's that 1983 essence. 

WHAT IS IT TELL ME BEFORE I GO INSANE 

Well, more insane.

Finally, star-crossed Sheffielders Comsat Angels maintained their no-hit wonder status despite enlisting Flock of Seagulls producer Mike Howlett for a makeover. I think I was the only American who bought their '83 LP Land but I'm not sorry for it. Sure, it's not moody and broody like the early stuff, but their essential melancholy shone through all the MIDI glitz.

Bonus factoid: Comsat Angels are Mark Kermode's favorite band. He called their early albums "what Joy Division would have recorded if they knew how to play or write real songs." 

NEXT: GET OUT YOUR POWER STRIPS -- WE'RE GOING SYNTH-POP

Come enroll at the Secret Sun Institute of Advanced Synchromysticism. We'll be doing some primo '83-diving there in the coming weeks.

Don't forget: the legendary Secret Sun Facebook group is back in action, after a three year hiatus.

PAPERBACK

KINDLE