Hell Bent For The 80’s

In the final analysis, the 80’s were to see (2) distinctly different me’s (neither of which got laid, until damned near decade’s end) which is odd, considering that 2013 finds me in very much the same utterless boat.

But during the 80’s, 2013 was too far off, and much more about flying spaceships (and getting laid as a result) than anything else. So seeing as I had my tape recorder, and Snortin’ Norton with his “Mu-Mu-Mu-Metal Shopppp…!” Metal Shop broadcasting at midnights to help me along, we’ll just stick to what I knew back then, OK?

As has so often occurred, the decade began with me trying to “find my way.” And seeing as Liberace was considered far too “old folk” at the time, my way went a little something like this:

Now to be sure, “Hell Bent For Leather” was and is, my Priest jam of choice, but this comes in at a CLOSE second, AND unlike the former, it was 80’s as hell. So there.

Here was another “80’s as hell” ticket, on the metal front:

Now if I could, Dio would be my personal Metal Drag Momma, similar to Marian and k~ being my Blog Drag Momma’s (that’s right ladies, you’d be drag momma’s along with Ronnie James – pretty awesome, right?) But – with their perfect blend of speed, weight and nihilism – it would eventually be these boys, who were the ones to trip my metal ragings into full speed:

Which of course leads us to Maiden, as I can’t hear that last track without immediately thinking of possibly The BEST metal tune of all time. Yes, I mean that. Listen, and you’ll agree:

“Hey t, that places us at (4), when (5) is required. Are you gonna share (1) more?”

Two, in fact.

What? Everyone else does…

For #5, I will go to a cover – yet another in a long line of covers that bested the original by ten fold. Made by some poor kids hoping for a chance they never truly got, this lil dittie would go on to best the original, to the point where many would forget that there ever was one in the first – here’s the boys from Quiet Riot, doing it right:

Yes, from here I could also go on to regale you with tunes from acts such as Twisted Sister, Def Leppard, and any number of other metal and/or hair bands. But even in their midst, already a new troy was emerging, and the segway between the Metal me and the Next me, was coaxed (rather accidentally) along by strange new sounds like the following…

The 80’s.

I didn’t get laid until damned near the decades end.

But who cares?

Coming in Pt 2 – the shit that would eventually make me what I am. Or what I was. Or what I might someday be… Or whatever

I hope you liked my entry for this week’s Twisted Mix Tape Tuesday. Please drop in and play along, because honestly, I could spend about a month’s worth of posts on the music of this decade; so your assistance in exploring the musical landscape of the time (sans any mention of Kenny G or Yanni of course) is appreciated!

 

An inconsequential diversion

It was at Club Harvey’s where I first heard them.

Club Harvey’s, – a little nightclub buried within a Jacksonville NC hotel – where once a week all the pseudo punks and drunks, all the closet Goths and the geeks, all the Wilmington art fags and hags would come out to play, while DJ Jane Doe spun her wicked mix of subculture cacophony. I was a personal friend of “Jane” (Brenda being her actual name), and though it would be years yet before my own DJing Cherry was popped, she occasionally allowed me into the beloved, albeit claustrophobic, red carpeted booth in order to hand-select some of the – I must say – choicer cuts that were played.

I wasn’t in the booth the first night I heard them, but I wish I had been. As the first night they were played over the surprisingly good sounding speakers (for a hotel nightclub at any rate), there was a club boy in attendance. Just your normal average “douche about town” club boy. I’m sure in reality that he wasn’t dressed nearly as disastrously, but I recall that at first notice I thought to myself that his style had an uncanny resemblance to that of Vanilla Ice. And no, I don’t mean the “I resurrected my career through tattoos and bench presses” Vanilla either. Were his eyebrows replete with carefully shaven hash marks? I’m pretty sure not, but it wouldn’t have surprised me had they been.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m quite sure that he was a nice enough kid. And over the next several months that he spent bonding with us during our weekly temporary Punk O Rama hootenannies, this indeed proved to be the case. But that first night I absolutely hated him. Loathed him in fact.

You see, here was this average run-of-the-Chess King club kid. One who carelessly busted up well more than one fondling couple, all in an effort to get his skinny white ass to the dance floor when first their song came on. And he then spent the next six plus minutes or so simply obliterating every move. All while us supposedly more seasoned and “in the know” types stood there, simply dumbfounded. No industrial stomps, no voguing, no Gothic posing came from us in response, no sir. In fact, all but none of us even knew what this strange new – albeit decidedly alternative – sound was. No, it was left to just this one plain old (young) Vanilla Icean to show us all how it should be done. With almost every single part of his body at one point or another touching the floor – and I could have sworn in at least one instance – the ceiling as well.

The first time I heard them, this is what I remember.

I’ve honestly no idea why the memory is so strong. And I’m equally perplexed as to why I seem to feel the need – all these years later – to now regale you all with the tale, unless of course somewhere deep within me, I felt that maybe you too could also use a simple and inconsequential diversion for a spell.

21st Century Boy will not be heard today

While nobody said it publicly, I’m sure after reading last Monday’s post, you were all thinking, “But t, what about Tony?”

Yes, what about Tony? Tony James, the Yin to Billy Idol’s Yang (or vice versa. I’ve hardly the desire to put forth the effort figuring out which is supposed to be which in this instance) during his Generation X days. Well we all know that when Gen X went bust, and Billy stole “Dancing…” Tony was pretty much left without a pot to piss in, creatively speaking. So he decided to form a new band, with a new sound.

Now, Idol must have been a very taxing musician to work with, because when Tony started up his next venture, he hand-picked a band with very little prior musicianship, opting instead to choose individuals who “looked like rock stars” rather than actually being so. He went about it this way, because the whole idea to this new group was to be a total and one hundred percent sell-out, from top to bottom. The songs were constructed in such a fashion as to maximize their chart-ability, the wardrobes and hairstyles were created to garner attention – good or bad, it mattered not. The press – well, the press was almost ridiculous. I recall way back when listening to CFNY (the coolest New Wave radio station ever. Out of Canada, of course. The coolest New Wave nation ever) on my little radio; hearing that they even gone so far as to create a billboard wherein the lead singer was hanging from a cross, touting themselves as the “Second Coming of Rock & Roll” – pretty damned crass, right? But that was the whole point. Long before the world ever knew of Marilyn Manson, Tony James presumably tried to highlight mankind’s sheep like tendencies and gullibility in the knee-jerk reaction department, all while making a boatload of cash at the same time.

Quick side note – how is it, that every time we speak ill of our species, it’s OK to say “mankind,” but when we’re speaking highly of ourselves, we have to use the genderless “humankind?”

Anywho, where was I again? Oh yeah, Tony and the boys were attempting to show us all what sell-outs we were, by being sell-outs themselves (they even went so far as to sell commercial space in between the tracks on their debut album). The problem was, their plan didn’t work. Turns out, merely putting out lots of flash and thunder wasn’t enough to secure you a career. Turns out, we felt you needed some sort of talent as well (odd we felt that way then, when you consider all the talent-less and void “celebrities” we blatantly lust after today).

So in the final analysis, I feel that while Tony may have had a good idea, he applied a little bit too much shtick. The real DJ’s rebelled as a result (God bless you, Chris Sheppard!), and the resulting lack of airplay was deafening. Their second album was merely a plink in a pool already overflowing with 80’s style creativity. And while I believe Sigue Sigue Sputnik (did I even mention the band name yet?)  just recently got back together, the fact that I can’t even find the energy to verify that last tidbit of info, is telling as to how much long-term interest they’ve maintained.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like Mr. Idol faired much better. Why it was only a couple of years ago that he went so far as to release a Christmas album. CHRISTMAS! My brother burned me a copy, but I’ve yet worked up the courage to give it a listen. Hey, I need my ears for the rest of my life, I can’t risk them becoming damaged.

So, why won’t we be listening to “21st Century Boy” today? Well, for two reasons. First off, I can’t find the version I like on Youtube (did I forget to mention? They made – on average – seventeen hundred different mixes of each and every song they recorded). Secondly, as I’m assuming most-to all of you at one point in time have seen “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” the song I chose may be the only one you’ve ever heard from Tony and the boys.

Similar to “Dancing With Myself,” it’s still good for steering wheel beat-downs, just not nearly as heartfelt.

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Now, for a much more informed take on both the band and their first album, I would invite you to jump over to superstition is all we have left‘s bloggie (where I “fleeced” today’s picture from) – in the words of the best Doctor Who ever, Mr. David Tennant, their post on the subject is simply “Brilliant!”