Come see, come see, remember me: The Top 40 of January 28, 1984

"...but I can't trace time" is roiling in my mind because of the tardiness of this post. I'm getting behind--but isn't that always the way it is three or so weeks after you've looked at the fresh slate and snow of the new year, thinking you have plenty of time to grow, build, create, bake, or organize every idea and morsel. 

I don't have any memories of the start of the new year before age 20 or 21, when the party was the thing. I was plodding through the remainder of 8th grade and not really possessing the agency to take any big steps. Life was structured, slow, same--and wearing the same uniform five days each week. Maybe that's why what was the radio at this time is the most tangible essence of this time for me. Colorful, bold, weird, unreal and real.

35. The Sign Of Fire - The Fixx. This ominous last single from The Fixx's breakthrough lp Reach the Beach didn't go very far, only to 32, but I always enjoyed how it sounded like what's playing behind a witch as she stirs her murky cauldron. And the preceding singles--wow. What else sounded like them?

28. "Time Will Reveal" - DeBarge. When the "Dean of American Rock Critics" marks this one in his personal top ten of the 80s, nestled between X and Public Enemy, you know it's something special. I think we took DeBarge for granted in the 80s--it wasn't Jacksons- or Prince-level spectacular, but it also wasn't a lightweight front for some older dude songwriters like The Jets or New Edition. The DeBarge family wrote the songs. Giving the whole album a listen now, it does what it says--holds up to time.

21. "Middle Of The Road" - Pretenders. I distinctly remember continuing the count during the bridge while sitting in the backseat of the car in Gatlinburg, TN, waiting in the parking lot of Chalet Village cabin rentals (again, but different trip!). Also, I loved Chrissie's cat purr and growl before the harmonica solo.

5. "Break My Stride" - Matthew Wilder. An unlikely-looking pop star for the time who looked like he migrated from earlier 80s yacht rock, Wilder became an industry pro, producing things like No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. Even then I knew this would be a one-hitting anthem, which got as high as the fifth spot. Nevertheless, you can't not stride when you hear the awesome loping, circusy melody. I miss earnest positive pop like this song, a sort of precursor to the Howard Jones positive zen hits to come in the next couple of years.

Come see, come see, remember me: The Top 40 of January 21, 1984

Everyone old is new again this week. Of course, not just this week, but throughout the 80s. The original rock and pop revolutionaries beat on against the newer currents, bringing us back ceaselessly to the past--and to extend this unnecessary Fitzgeralism further, they weren't gonna be the last tycoons to do this. What would change is that the music moved from airplay to the arena, though some also hung on to the lower rungs of the decade charts.

If April is the cruelest month (gotta use this English major somehow, come on now), then January is the longest. I like January because it's a new start and we're coming out of the darkness and obligations of autumn and winter solstice seasons, but my god does it drone on. At least it's broken up by deliberate events and adventures undertaken when the snow and cold relent; in '84 that would have been dances and speech tourneys, the school cafeteria a sweat lodge of fun and traveling to less-bumpkinish-than-you'd-think county high schools in a rattling, frigid school van (dubbed the "Magic Bus" endlessly by my friend Mikey Z.)

Yeah, I'm perpetually grateful for the chance to break through the snow for something new...or new/old.

40. "Uptown Girl" - Billy Joel. This second single from his monolithic throwback An Innocent Man chronicles the time when newly-divorced Billy finally assumed the dating-supermodels mantle of the Big Rock Star. This cat walking girl is on her way out of the top 40, having peaked in November and December at number three. Pure joy, this one--the sound of summer peeking through the bare tree branches.

36. "Nobody Told Me" - John Lennon. At first glance, it seems odd to see Lennon in the Top 40 four years after he passed. Then I remembered that Milk and Honey was the final Lennon/Ono album, released in late 1983. Though this was written for Ringo (can't you hear him cheerfully singing it?), it was completed by Yoko and became Lennon's last hit single. Imagine (sorry) hearing him return to the radio back then--with Julian to debut there months later in '84.

27. "Yah Mo B There" - James Ingram with Michael McDonald. Michael McDonald surfaces from his Doobies legacy, ultimately winning a Grammy for this one. Could I have had any clue that this and other hits on my radio and my dad's stereo would be ironically/not ironically celebrated and placed in a seaside/easy-listening firmament presided over by the trinity of McDonald, Dan, and holy Toto? This one falls on the latter and smooth R&B end of the era, produced by Quincy Jones and written by Q, McDonald, James, and Rod Temperton ("Thriller," "Boogie Nights). 

23. "All Night Long" - Lionel Richie. Now my friends, the time has come. This isn't about then; this song (from Richie's biggest and 1985 Grammy-winning album) is being present in now and future joy. It somehow hit me differently--late in the night at the bar at the turn of one of these past few banana-shit years, under the tent on the beach in banana-shit Panama City Beach. No matter what happens, life is good--wild and sweet. (Also: I want a wardrobe comprised of all the clothing in this video.)

10. "Say It Isn't So" - Daryl Hall & John Oates. At once haunting and poppy, this first and biggest single from their hits compilation Rock 'n Soul Part 1 offered not one but two videos, the first an out-of-the-box affair (literally) with John as tennis-anyone-outfitted other man, and the other, "official" video featuring a lot of shoes, shots of NYC and GE Smith doing some pre-SNL guitar mugging. The latter seems to be cut to the Jellybean Benitez et al extended dance mix--unusual for the time. Why? I got 5 pages into Google search results with no answer (except that the internet is now "optimized" for consumerism and looking at the Big Sites). The single version will climb--and stay--at number 2 in late December.

1. "Owner of a Lonely Heart" - Yes. Oh, you think you're getting pushing-40 dudes who are prog, but you're watching them on MTV, so you don't know they are prog (or what prog is), but then the drop happens at the end of the first chorus and then the video becomes a Lynchian nature fantasy which relaunches the song into one man's fate in a dystopic authoritarian state. This is the video that the parents should have been far more concerned about me seeing on cable than this. But since it predated my reading of Brave New World (and, for that matter, any F. Scott Fitzgerald) by four or so years, it was just downright creepy, an unlikely major player on MTV, much less the charts.

Come see, come see, remember me: The Top 40 of January 14, 1984

This week was about more of the same on the charts, and amid the bare pin oaks all over Lexington, but January like that--on the surface. The temps were all over that week, crashing from 59 to 0. I might have been plodding through more Language Arts nitpickiness, but the radio was as erratic as the weather, a fine, late-stage example of early 80s pop music' zany breadth 

40. "Send Me an Angel" - Real Life. Oh, it's drama, honey. A haunting synth hit for no one-knew-they-were-Australian Real Life, and a hit again five years later after it showed up in movies like Teen Wolf Too (lookit key-oot Jason Bateman!). You can be depressed--and dance to it.

36 "Baby I Lied" - Deborah Allen. Jump down four into a country ballad by not-that-Debbie-Allen. Is the the last time a soft-pop country tune hit the early 80s top 40? Or 80s at all until Garth?

33. "Cum On Feel the Noize" - Quiet Riot. "So you think my singing's out of time? It makes me money!" It's a clapback--but Slade's, not QR's. They essentially disappeared after their second single "Metal Health (Bang Your Head)."

26. Let the Music Play - Shannon. It sounded like nothing else before it, and for a reason. "Let the Music Play"shot to number 8 eventually, but more significantly, beget a genre that I never heard of until now, freestyle, but that I can absolutely recognize in the sounds of music after it. This one reminds me of a multi-family trip to Gatlinburg that winter, one (maybe the last one) of several my parents and their friends and friends' kids gathered for in a mountain chalet rented from Chalet Village (the logo is the same!). But, oh no, that chalet is probably long gone, perhaps the victim of 2016 wildfires. Back in early '84, though, the kids--we were all of 14 down to 4--were shooting pool in the lower level of the A-frame while this was playing on the--radio? Maybe MTV, since we also watched "The Jerk" on a TV down there, which was the first time I saw a rated-R movie all the way through without having to madly push buttons on the cable box. It probably was the video, a basic affair that makes me sad that Atlantic decided to staff Shannon's first outing with dancing cater waiters.

25. "Holiday" - Madonna. I thought she was another Shannon. Wouldn't you? Number 16 is as high as this charted. What? It's hard to believe M's earliest hit was kind of a blip.

18. "Read 'Em and Weep" - Barry Manilow. Although Barry "wrote the songs," it was pop-opera, ratchet-up-to-the-chorus composer Jim Steinman who created this last top-20 hit for BM, slipping some 70s piano banging' into the one last time in the early 80s. But the video's of the moment, with Bob Giraldi directing this backstage mini-drama after "Beat It" and "Love Is a Battlefield."

17. "That's All" - Genesis. The second single off of their officially self-titled but loved-by-fans-as the "shapes" album. Last year, I purchased the "shapes" two times, the transactions within weeks of each other, which says more about how last year was than how much I like the album (which I do).

13. "Joanna" - Kool & the Gang. How can you not smile when hearing this song? Pure R&B/pop with a sweet video. K & the Gang's ode will go to number 2, their first hit since "Get Down On It" in 1981.

5. "Twist of Fate" - Olivia Newton John. The 70s comes calling again with ONJ's final top ten hit ever. But what in the heck is this movie? Strange that I never caught it on cable in the years that followed, but my bad movie viewing slowed once I was sprung from grade school later in '84.

1. "Say, Say, Say" - Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson. The fellas are back. Having just heard "The Girl Is Mine" involuntarily a few hours ago, I must reiterate that this far better song is a relief. And that "Girl" was the first single off of Thriller? As good as "Beat It," "Billie Jean" et al were, I guess we all wanted to forget that duet.

I'll write you a letter tomorrow

Maybe it's because we haven't advanced in life in proximity, only with the scattershot familiarity of the virtual tubes and wires we couldn't have imagined at 19 and 20 and so on, that I'm able to re-realize the significance of our knowing each other, and how and why it set me on a trajectory to further meet who I would meet and be who I would become. 

Can't pretend that growing older never hurts

Straight to the top of my heart with a bullet today.

Come see, come see, remember me: The Top 40 of January 7, 1984

While I wish I had the time to deep-dive into items in the upper 60 like "Rappin' Rodney" (No respect! No respect!) and the months-long descent of "Total Eclipse of the Heart," this series will focus on the Top 40 as Casey K. would have smoothly enunciated between January and December of this hallowed year. 

Why this year? It's the pivotal year, it's the peak year, it's the "it" year of both my brief life until that point and in pop music. If you ask me. You didn't--but you're getting this anyway.

I would have returned to this week for the second half of 8th grade, but not yet feeling the 8th-grade-itis and seeing the horizon of a new life. That didn't happen until spring thawed out what was probably the same raw, wet, gray Kentucky winter. No, it was a return to the underlining every assignment title in red pen with a ruler, why can't I get my hair to look like Kelly Carter's when I have to wear this uniform every day kind of Catholic school experience I was going to as-yet-unknowingly-how-exactly leave behind in a few months. 

And what was playing from the Top 40 while my first teenage January plodded?

40. "In the Mood" - Robert Plant. This moody (oof) second single from his second solo album The Principle of Moments always grabbed me, even if I didn't really understand this was the same man who sang "I wanna give you every inch of my love" 15 years prior. That Phil Collins drums on this track makes it even more of the moment. Stayed at 40.

32. "Gold" - Spandau Ballet. The follow-up to the number 3 "True," released in the US in November, this elegant soarer will land only three more spots on the chart, though it gets kudos for the video, a more posh "Hungry Like the Wolf."

30. "Think of Laura" - Christopher Cross. Imagine my crushing disappointment to discover that this mournful last top ten hit of the Soft Rock Maestro wasn't written for (nor requested for, even) General Hospital's star-crossed Luke and Laura when she returns after having gone missing in their gripping late '83 storyline.

26. "Pink Houses" - John Cougar Mellencamp. One of JCM's finest compositions, in my opinion, that birthed the catchphrase of the ages (11-18, in the first half of 1984), "...and then we paint the mother paink"

21. The Curly Shuffle - Jump 'n the Saddle. Never in my life have I heard or heard of this song. Can someone explain this to me?  Okay, possible explanation: the group is from Chicago, which at least may explain why it sounds like "The Superbowl Shuffle."

16. "Church of the Poison Mind" - Culture Club. Not their biggest hit (though number 10 ultimately), but bloody rager, made so by Helen Terry's backing vocals.

14. "Major Tom" - Peter Schilling. This one's sandwiched in the middle of the German-to-English u-boat (forgive the mixed metaphors) of hits, from Falco's "Der Komissar," rerecorded by After the Fire in early '83, and the gold standard "99 Luftballoons" by Nena. It's best known as my first-one-on-the-dancefloor track always played early in New Wave Thursday nights at Neo two decades later. 4-3-2-1.

9. "Undercover of the Night" - Rolling Stones. It's political, it's violent (in the lyrics and the video), but with Robbie of Sly and Robbie on a whopping bassline and a helluva video, it's a wholly underrated Stones barnburner. Personally, I think it sounds like a Dylan story song filtered through a thousand Marlboros.

3. "Union of the Snake" - Duran Duran. This is where it all started for me. This was the first recording by DD I ever purchased, the 45 with picture sleeve. Not sure when I bought it, but this stayed on the chart a good while, ten weeks, and this was as high as it went. I'm going to say February, when days started to lengthen and when I probably couldn't get this Beyond Thunderdome precursor video out of my head, liking, at that time, all things remotely Indiana Jonesian or hammered-brass jewelry / safari wear-ian. It just sounded like...the rich, exotic world out there.

1. "Say, Say, Say" - Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson. Who doesn't love this? It's far superior to "The Girl Is Mine," and who can resist this pair as medicine showmen who are also Robin Hoods who are also vaudevillians? 

I can't go on, holding on to time

All it takes is a maudlin "love theme from" soundtrack song to shoot me back to not the feeling that it first prompted, but nostalgia for that feeling. 

Or, maybe it's feeling the gap where my longing little heart once was. What is there to long for now, except the longing back then? 

It's funny: the words that are embroidered all over this feeling, that I keep hearing, are ones introduced to me at the start of this era, in first semester freshman English (which, I discovered, you can procure on a welcome mat).

This waiting 'round's killing me

I'm standing backstage at whatever that space was called in the hulking white warehouse at the foot of I-794 and edge of the Third Ward. Waiting for my cue, which I believe was the first of the longer guitar chords, the ones that go dun duuuun, dah duuun. (I really should figure out what those are) in this one. 

And every time I hear it, I'm there again. What I was wearing, my character's name, god, even the name of the play, I'm not sure any more without thinking harder. 

But I do remember the feeling of waiting to begin something, to cross from the dimly-lit real backstage into the hot and harsh and exciting unreal. 

I'm waiting to get there again, but, damn, it's a long wait, and it's filled with doing a lot of other shit that is grayscale, unending, requires brain parts that are already exhausted, too full of nitpicky details. 

I'm not even sure I want to go back there, but I do know I can't stay here. As the wise man said, You don't have to go home but...

Fooled by now, we mystify the past

Some might think (or just the animal in my head does) that every opportunity to make something outta this blog and its/my online, er, presence, was missed, from the first blog revolution to being deemed "comedy cognoscenti" by all the Twits to doing I-don't-know-what-the-hell on TickTock or whatever, has been missed.

Right. Well, there isn't an audience for soft-rock treatises and record player reminisces, with a side of trips to back to Turfland Mall and Landsdowne pool

But this is the way I am trying to tell you (you, or just the animal in my head) that I am am alive, I am living. I know all the moments these songs vibrated the chain of tiny bones in my ears. I remember them all. I remember this one (Clybourn Avenue, rain), this one (San Diego County), here (outside of North/Clybourn Red line), and here (moving and moving on). 

It all happened. It all happens, every time. 

Here is when my bike ride to the lake would time out exactly for me to fly down the hill at the northern end of Lincoln Memorial with this song on the tape player. The water-sky line, the sun, the wind, the speed, the water on the rocks, cars climbing toward Kenwood Avenue, all of it, mine and mine forever. 

We make it harder than it has to be

Wow, this isn't as old as I thought it was. Certainly this was heard in the backseat of the car, flying down a country road--but no, that was this one, similarly a delicious R&B groove. No, this was heard when I was in fifth grade, and things were getting harder. I flunked a science test during the third or fourth week of school because, up to that point, I hadn't needed to study, do homework, think about school once I was home with Nancy Drew and Barbie and Mork and Mindy and the Bosom Buddies. What the hell? I dimly remember a big red number below 70 scrawled at the top of the test by Mr. Enoch, who we inexplicably gave a ridiculous and very late 20th century small-minded nickname involving moles (predating Austin Powers by two decades). The feel-good fourth grade was over. Nothing but homework and headaches while I strained to see the blackboard all year and then, finally, in May of fifth grade, glasses. 

Maybe this gave me short-term nostalgia for a few years earlier, when life was easier.