The Only 1983 Playlist that Matters: The Birth of 80s College Rock

With New Wave now dominating the mainstream in 1983, new bands arose,  taking the driver’s seat from the class of 1979. A lot of these bands were too esoteric for the majors or still hewed to punk idealism, so a new breed of independent record labels arose to serve their audiences. 

College radio stations became the go-to outlet for these bands, which naturally thrived in towns with a lot of schools.

And so it was that “College Rock,” as it was briefly known, became a thing in 1983, largely spurred by the runaway success of REM. The Athens, GA based quartet were another of Miles Copeland’s projects and lit up the circuit with their inscrutable mix of post-punk and 60s folk-rock. They would stick around for what seemed like an eternity past their sell-by date but were a breath of fresh air in a stale mainstream New Wave scene.

I wish I could say the same for the deluge of dreary nerd rock outfits that tried to follow in their footsteps. It got to the point where I’d see red whenever I smelled a hint of flannel and usually made it a point to keep plenty of spare hate in reserve for any band of arrogant rich kids associated with Maxwell’s and the Hoboken scene in general.

X were nearing the end of their critic’s darling run without having gotten much traction on the airwaves or on the charts. Not surprising, since they came across as a bit too literate for anyone but English majors. A shame though, since their last LP with former Door Ray Manzarek (More Fun in the New World) is by far my favorite of theirs.

The Replacements were coming into their own with their second LP. It wasn’t half as good as their next LP Let It Be, but few albums are. A raunchy bit of fun from a band who showed so much promise yet choked so completely once they got their shot at the big leagues. But the same drunken anarchic spirit that made them so exciting also planted the seeds of their demise.

Sonic Youth came out of the ashes of the No Wave scene. The name was ironic, given that most of the band were pushing 30 by the time their debut LP hit the shelves. They’d have a huge influence on the nascent grunge scene that was gestating in 1983, and not just in Seattle.

The Wipers were heroes to Pacific Northwest punk and grunge bands, but never seemed all that interested in pursuing a career. Their sound was a bit too weird and muso for a lot of punk kids (meaning they could actually play their instruments) but would have a massive influence on the 80s grunge scene in Portland and Seattle.

Mission of Burma were kindred spirits (and even later covered the Wipers’ epic “Youth of America”) but were forced to split up because of singer/guitarist Roger Miller’s tinitus. They unleashed Vs. after their split, an absolute raging slab of molten post-hardcore whose influence would be nearly incalculable. Burma also had a knack for sneaking heart-rending beauty amidst all the hammering, like on this classic.

Husker Du were clearly paying very close attention and began adopting Burma's trademark mix of power, dissonance and melody on 1983’s Everything Falls Apart. It’s actually kind of shocking how much they sound like their Bostonian forebears on tracks like “From the Gut” and “Gravity.”

Back in Boston, The Del Fuegos were helping spearhead the garage rock revival while the punk scene was still dominated by hardcore thrash. I remember running into these guys on Newbury Street when they were tacking up flyers for their first gig, which may have been at Cantones, if memory serves.

Their spiritual forebears Lyres were tearing it up as well, spitting out garage punk classics as authentic and catchy as anything the Sixties punks ever recorded.

Retro ruled in LA in 1983 with the so-called Paisley Underground. I never found any of those bands to be anything worth writing home about, but these guys managed to cut a classic, even if it sounds more like Cheap Trick than Buffalo Springfield. 

1983 was the year UK indie came into its own. Leading the charge were Rough Trade’s Smiths, who combined Johnny Marr’s nimble picking with Morrissey’s hilarious Oscar Wilde LARPing. It got old fairly quickly but not before the band dropped some quality sides. They released so much material that sometimes it’s hard to remember they’d be gone 48 short months after this single hit the Indie charts.

Factory’s New Order had burned through all their leftover Joy Division material (which I quite liked) and morphed into a New Wave disco concern in 1983 (which I didn’t). It was a wise idea to go MIDI since none of them could play for beans (though bassist Peter Hook at least had a distinctive way of playing badly) but then you ran into the brick wall of Bernard Sumner, whom 4AD Ivo Watts-Russell accurately described as a singer who couldn’t sing and a lyricist who couldn't write. 

Then again, Mark Kermode had described Joy Division as a band who couldn’t play or write real songs and it didn’t stop them. Sometimes feel is enough.

The third part of 80’s UK Indie Holy Trinity were another prospect altogether, having been chosen by otherworldly powers to act as their earthly vessels. Like many others. I realized this inarguable fact back in 1983 as soon as I heard this woman open her mouth on the studio version of this song. I like this Peel session version even better since her angelic riddles weren’t as drenched in reverb. 

And then of course there was THAT song, also released in 1983.

Raincoat Rock, or the Scene With No Name, or Post-Punk guitar rock, or whatever you want to call it was on its last legs in 1983, with the bigger acts headed for the mainstream and the darker strains merging into Goth.

Mark Kermode’s all-time favorite band never took flight from the days when U2 were opening for them. The Comsats could write and play as well as any of their contemporaries but their dark, moody, introverted Post-Punk just didn’t appeal to the masses. They changed labels and hooked up with Flock of Seagulls producer Mike Howlett but their chances in America were crippled by a lawsuit that forced them to use the ungainly moniker "C.S. Angels." 

The Chameleons were always closely associated with the Comsats, and they didn’t have much chart success either. But their lusher, more aggressive spin on the formula built up a cult following that long outlasted their split and was appropriated in whole by New York based Interpol in the early 2000s. That band’s breakthrough hit “PDA” is a deliciously shameless rewrite of the Chammies’ “Perfumed Garden.”

The Sound were cut from the same cloth as the Comsats and Chameleons but didn’t have quite the songwriting chops as their cousin bands. But the three together seem to share a dedicated fanbase, right up to today.

UK Oi! heroes Blitz were famously comprised of two punks and two skins at a time when the two tribes were often engaged in open street warfare. When the Oi! scene was shattered by violence it would be the two skins who’d reform Blitz as a post-punk outfit in the Wire/Joy Division mold, and release a very good album called Second Empire Justice in 1983. Unfortunately, that scene had already given way to Goth so the record went nowhere and Blitz split up.

Eyeless in Gaza arose out of the formless, Durutti Column/China Crisis school of UK indie. There was no actual constituency for that material — unless you had the advantage of being on 4AD — so they never gained much traction. This is still a great slice of proto-Tears for Fears mope-pop. 

So what were your favorite hits from the left side of the dial? Drop your suggestions in the comments.

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