“As I wander around this wreck of a town
Where people never speak aloud
With its ivory towers and its plastic flowers
I wish I was back in 1981
Just to see your face, instead of this place
Now I know what you mean to me, ooh
And I wonder (oh, I wonder), yes, I wonder (yes, I wonder)
Is this the way life's meant to be?”
The Way Life’s Meant to Be
Electric Light Orchestra
1981
New romantics. Floppy pose. Blokes wear rouge. Hairspray flows.
Rubik’s Cube, unsolved mess. One wrong twist, pure distress.
Dynasty. Hill Street Blues. Only Fools. TV debuts.
DeLorean. Leon Spinks. Gold Teeth. Who was the thief?
Yorkshire Ripper caught. Sutcliffe thirteen, coppers fraught.
Reagan sworn, hostages freed. Brixton riots, cities bleed.
Waltons and Cronkite say goodnight. Dan Rather gets invite.
Columbia countdown. Young and Crippen. Rush were totally smitten.
Chariots race. Synths arise. Vangelis will win the Oscar prize.
Gretzky. Valenzuela. Fiennes, Antarctica.
Reagan. Hinckley. Tylenol. Jodie says go to hell.
EEC. Greece. France. Mitterrand. Giscard d’Estaing.
Kim Carnes. Bette Davis. Corrie’s got Derek & Mavis.
Sinatra croons, old-school charm. AIDS’ first whispers raise alarm.
Marley’s now a ghost but he’s still reggae’s GOAT.
The cup is gone. Villa won, not the vile Aston champion.
Liverpool, Paris night, Kennedy slots it low and right.
Borg no longer imperious. McEnroe: “You cannot be serious”.
Bond. Spielberg. Lucas. Raiders.
Botham. Headingly. Ashes. Victory.
Ob1 lights ‘em up, Silverwing strut their stuff.
Laker Airlines. JFK. Kissettes whisk us away.
VH. MSG. Diamond Dave leads the party.
Eric Carr fifth row. Are we the only ones that know?
Next up, Hammerheads; no ocean breeze, just Twisted Sister sleaze.
Houston, Texas. Pick-up truck. Are we outta luck?
N.Y.C. L.A. Coast to coast. DR & me.
USC campus. Breakfast burritos before the bus.
Disneyland. Universal. Knotts Berry Farm. No rehearsal.
Johnny Van Zant. Blue Oyster Cult. LA Arena in tumult.
Santa Monica on the beach, every girl’s a peach.
“Escape from New York” in LA. Locals cheer Snake Plissken on his way.
Continental Airlines. In and out of Denver a couple of times.
LA smog. Bay Area fog. San Fran cable car backlog.
Oakland. Day on the Green. UFO make a scene.
Donnie Van Zant’s in the queue, waiting for hot dogs from the barb-b-q.
Air traffic controllers on strike. OB1 & DR don’t like!
Long Beach. Iron Maiden. UFO keep their lights hidden.
Halfin. Makowski. Sunset Marquis. Where’s the party?
Jet engine fumes and denim smells. Backstage boasts and Taco Bells.
Nuclear tests abound. Humber Bridge saves you going around.
Video Killed the Radio Star. Starvation kills Sands behind bars.
Duran pout. Le Bon preens. New Romantics rule the screens.
Royal wedding, flags and cheers; divorced in under ten short years.
Thatcher holds, jobless climb. “Ghost Town” echoes through the grime.
IBM and Gates combine. Donkey Kong climbs up the line.
An American Werewolf howls, London nights, Bottin’s prosthetic jowls.
Falklands stirring, not quite war. We’ll deal with Argies in '84.
Murray. Candy. Reitman. Stripes.
Piquet. Karpov. Allen. Jabbar.
IBM PC. Bucks Fizz. Seb Coe record spree.
Solidarity. Jaruzelski. Little blue Smurfs are pesky.
1981 Part1
I am not going to say that 1981 was the best year of my life, especially as it was the year before my first very brief meeting with my wife, and three or four before we became the couple. I have never tried to assess what the best year of my life was but ’81 was quite a year. I attended every game of City’s FA Cup Final campaign. I graduated from Nottingham University. Went on tour as a roadie (lights and transit driving duties) with my best friends’ band (Silverwing) as they spent three weeks supporting Zep wannabees Diamond Head on a UK tour. I fell in love with what we can call my most significant ex, before swiftly disappearing off to the USA with one of my best friends, Silverwing’s bassist / vocalist, for four weeks of no sex, no drugs but lots of rock n roll. Followed by a few weeks in Wales and my final summer job stint at a (horse) riding school before commencing my first real job, as a trainee accountant. I had not been working for long when some idiot dislocated my left ankle, breaking it in three places, minutes from the end of a game in The Manchester Chartered Accountants Student Society Football League, when I was on my way to complete a hat trick! That necessitated a full-length plaster cast and ten weeks off work, resulting in my exams being delayed. Fortunately, I could still go to City games because we had an end of row seat. I even managed a couple of gigs (Police & Styx).
So, looking back through the clouds of dry ice, it is as clear as a laser beam cutting through fake mist that 1981 was a transformative year for both your author and contemporary music on both sides of the Atlantic.
1981 – Synths, safety pins and slashing hits
In 1981, pop and rock music were juggling enough hairdos, shoulder pads and synthesizers to make a space shuttle blush. Punk’s first high (and low) of the late ’70s had subsided into post-punk gloom, glam rock had collapsed back into its glitter, and disco’s last embers had pretty much fizzled out. In their place swaggered a whole new generation of bands armed with drum machines and weaponised hair spray aerosols. Across Britain and the USA, it was a year of contrasts: safety-pinned anarchists and new romantic dandies, ramshackle two-tone ska revivals and big-budget arena rock tours, power ballads in one ear and synthpop in the other. In short, 1981 was the year rock and pop straddled two worlds: the sweaty pubs of the ‘70s and the neon-lit video arcades of the future.
Mourning and renewal
The music world was still in mourning as the year began, following John Lennon’s untimely demise. Lennon’s posthumous single “Woman” hit the top of the UK charts while “Starting Over” topped the US singles, both were from the #1 album, “Double Fantasy”.
Nearly a year after the suicide of Ian Curtis at his home on Barton Street, Macclesfield, January saw the surviving members of Joy Division plus Gillian Gilbert, now under the name New Order, released their debut single “Ceremony”; the single and its B-side, “In a Lonely Place”, were both re-recordings of songs originally written and performed by Curtis.
Thankfully not a fatal event but Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler was seriously injured in a motorcycle crash that left him hospitalised for two months and delayed Aerosmith from taking the road.
New romantics, new waves and synthpop nights
Synthpop and new romanticism were inextricably entwined in 1981.
The synthpop movement coalesced around synthesizer-driven pop acts like Soft Cell, The Human League and Ultravox. These bands dressed in flamboyant garb, reminiscent of ’60s mod and art-school dress codes, yet their sound was unmistakably futuristic.
Ultravox offered a slightly more serious, artful take on the futuristic sound. Having flirted with punk earlier, Ultravox’s frontman Midge Ure focused on dramatic, semi-symphonic synth music.
Propelled by a Russell “Highlander” Mulcahy directed video, mixing smoky film noir with a vibrant slightly disquieting colour mid-section, “Vienna” climbed the January chart swiftly but stalled at no. 2 in the UK, infamously held off top spot by the horrific tastes of a huge swath of the British populace and their love of a novelty song! In this case it was Joe Dolce's "Shaddap You Face". To be fair, the Brits were not alone, it made o. 1 in eleven other countries, with the real criminals being the Australians for granting it a release in the first place and then making it their bestselling single ever to that point.
In 2017, Ure declined an opportunity to meet Dolce, saying: "I've had 40 years of people talking about Joe 'Bloody' Dolce and I don't want to spend what I've got left talking about when I met him."
“Vienna” did go on to achieve classic status and was voted Britain's favourite single ever to peak at no. 2 on the charts in a 2012 BBC poll. The song is built around a distinctive drum machine pattern created by Warren Cann and is a spare brooding lament oozing with a deliberately pompous orchestral centre. Eminent Krautrock producer Conny Plank oversaw the song’s recording.
Vienna is kept off the initial playlist by my exquisite taste for AOR and heavy rock; feel free to vote it in.
In September, two Northern lads in black leather – Marc Almond and Dave Ball, better known as Soft Cell – took “Tainted Love”, a 1964 Motown B-side by Marc Bolan’s killer Gloria Jones that Glen Campbell played guitar on, and turned it into a slow-motion disco-thriller. Almond has stated in interviews that Soft Cell's version was inspired more by English singer Ruth Swann's 1975 version, and Northern Soul favourite, than that of Gloria Jones. Soft Cell’s minimalist version, featuring Korg Synthe-Bass, Synclavier and drum machines, exploded into the UK top spot and later reached #8 in the US. It became the UK’s second-biggest selling single of the year. Even now, its wobbly bassline and Almond’s weary voice epitomise the
new sound of pop: dark, danceable, distinctly modern.
The Human League (formerly a little-known Sheffield electro trio) got irresistibly hooky with “Don’t You Want Me”, a glossy synth tune about a lovestruck songwriter and his ex-lover. The song was everywhere and grabbed the UK Christmas no. 1 slot in ’81, it even topped the US Billboard charts. Lead singer Phil Oakey’s robotic baritone and the song’s clever lyrics were irresistible. It was a perfect distillation of 1981: cold, electronic sounds with a hot, poppy hook, although Oakley was never a fan and didn’t want it released. Human League’s “Dare” album, containing this smash hit was another huge seller.
Synonymous with new romantic style, these acts carried an air of sleek, nocturnal glamour, frequently photographed in noir-inspired settings, and beginning a cultural trend that would influence fashion, video, art and nightlife well into mid-1980s.
Electronic music technology trends
Beyond the scope of individual bands, ‘81 saw electronic music technologies — namely synthesizers, drum machines, and sequencers — transition rapidly from studio oddities to pop necessities. The Roland TR-808 drum machine, released in 1980, offered programmable analogue percussion, yielding deep bass kicks and shouting snares that would become the bedrock of early hip-hop, electro and pop music alike. Rick James used it to craft the chanting groove and stabbing drums of “Super Freak,” while Blondie sampled it for the reggae-funk expansion of their sound on “Rapture”. The TR-808’s user-friendly interface and distinctive low-end thunder made it immediate shorthand for “contemporary sound,” particularly in burgeoning dance-floor genres.
Meanwhile, sleeve-based microprocessors in keyboards and sequencers allowed bands like Kraftwerk to lock-in mechanical rhythms, paving the way for fully computerised pop productions. Yellow Magic Orchestra’s 1981 album
BGM featured the pioneering use of the Roland TR-808, and even rock-oriented acts found it hard to resist the siren call of digital precision. The democratisation of electronic instruments lowered the bar for ambitious home setups, shaping the vibrant electronic undergrounds in Britain and the USA.
Kraftwerk, Großväter von synth-pop, still managed to produce the top-rated electronic music album of the year with “Computerwelt”.
In 1981, the UK club scene was a kaleidoscope of Lycra, frills and eyeliner. The new romantic subculture finally burst into the mainstream. It had its dyed blond roots in the flamboyantly dressed kids who hung out at London’s Blitz Club. These guys loved the glam rock theatrics of Bowie and Roxy Music and mixing antique clothes with futuristic fashion; in fact, it was a very much anything goes so long as it was eclectic and glamourous.
One group of London lads turned themselves out in skirts (sorry, kilts). Step forward Spandau Ballet (Wally if you were a rock fan) who released their debut album “Journeys to Glory” in February. It was a mix of Synthpop, choppy guitar, disco and funk fronted by a Sinatraesque crooner. It’s true that they soon enough struck gold by blanding out.
London was not the only place with a new romantic scene. Birmingham had the heavily mirrored Rum Runner with its Studio 54-inspired sound system. Their house band was Duran Duran, who signed to EMI at the end of 1980 and released their first single “Planet Earth” in February. Their eponymous debut album followed in June. They mixed glossy looks, pop, popping bass, synthpop, new wave and rockier elements (original guitarist Andy Taylor was a heavy rocker at heart). They ascended quickly to superstardom thanks in no small part to a new phenomenon that came along shortly after the July release of standalone single “Girls on Film”, which had a controversial promo video directed by Ex-10cc members Godley & Crème. The uncut video featured female nudity. A heavily edited version would soon be on heavy rotation.
Duran Duran have been credited with incorporating dance beats into synth-pop to produce a catchier and warmer sound, which provided them with a series of hit singles. What they shared with Spandau was an ability to balance a strikingly similar array of influences into their own sound.
Whilst not falling under the musical banner of new romantic, one highly successful act of 1981 is considered by some fashionistas as a new romantic icon in a visual sense. Adam (and his Ants) had their imperial moment in 1981. They rode into the year as “Kings of the Wild Frontier”, their 1980 release fuelled Ant Mania and went on to become the UK’s top selling album in 1981. Ant exited the year as “Prince Charming” as he commanded the UK’s teenyboppers to “Stand & Deliver”.
The spectacle mattered as much as the singles. The “Prince Charming” video (with Diana Dors as fairy godmother) and its mimed everywhere arm swinging dance turned the band’s flamboyance into national pop theatre.
Adam Ant’s 1981 look fused highwayman, hussar, pirate and prince: a flash of war paint, braided hair, and frogged military jackets, all styled with swaggering, romantic bravado that matched the music’s tribal drum led drama. The effect was unapologetically performative: pop as pantomime and pageant.
In a Britain shaking off the drabness of the late ’70s, Adam’s candy coloured militaria and fairy tale swagger offered “colour, escapism and wild costumery,” perfectly tuned to a pop culture that wanted spectacle with its hooks, and 1981 gave it to them in spaghetti western widescreen.
In the war painted… days of 1981, “ridicule was nothing to be scared of.” That was the license Adam Ant handed out: be larger than life, and dance about it.
Punk revival, ska and the uptake of 2 Tone
Born from the West Indian community and mixed-race lineups, the two-tone scene had led to a burgeoning ska revival that gave birth to bands like The Specials, Madness, and The Beat (later “English Beat” in the US). 2 Tone Records was an imprint founded by Jerry Dammers of The Specials in 1979.
The Specials aimed their socially charged fare squarely at Britain’s inner-city tensions. They caught the rising tide of discontent in June with the melancholic “Ghost Town”, a dark, eerie lament about urban decay (well the poor loves were from the shit hole that is Coventry). It topped the UK charts against a backdrop of riots in Brixton and Toxteth, at a time when cities like Birmingham and London were eerily quiet as strike and unrest took hold, so the song’s ominous “this town is coming like a ghost town” lyrics resonated powerfully.
Madness, truth be told, had started to move away from their manic dancehall grooves to a poppier palate and in late ‘81, released one of their most recognised songs: a cover of Labi Siffre's 1971 hit "It Must Be Love".
Reggae was from the same musical lineage as ska and its greatest exponent Bob Marley died tragically young in May 1981. Marley had become a world ambassador for love and rebellion, and though Jamaican-born, he was every bit a global rock star. His album “Uprising” (1980) had gone gold. His death from cancer sent shockwaves through the music community. It marked the end of the first great wave of reggae’s influence on rock, but it also cemented Marley's legend, ensuring that many of his songs became timeless standards.
Video killed the radio star
While London looked to posh clubs and Johnny Rotten’s shadow, something literally new was happening in the USA: the dawn of MTV. On 1 August 1981, a new kind of television channel emerged when a small cable channel beamed its first signal to a few thousand American homes. MTV broadcast music video round the clock. The hosts were video jockeys, or “VJs.” The first image broadcast to cable subscribers heralded an era when music and visuals would merge, forever altering the industry. “Ladies and gentlemen, rock and roll,” were the words that ushered in MTV’s first video, “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles” a fitting choice that prophetically questioned the future of radio in the video age.
At first, MTV was not exactly a national behemoth (cable was still young), but it sent a shudder of anticipation through the global music world. MTV’s early VJ lineup (Nina Blackwood, Mark Goodman, Alan Hunter, J.J. Jackson and Martha Quinn) became icons to a generation that measured musical success not only in vinyl sales but in memorable images on a television screen.
Initially, major labels hesitated to invest heavily in expensive video production, and MTV faced criticism for lacking diversity in its playlists, particularly against the backdrop of black music’s rich heritage. It took public pressure and the breakthrough of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” in 1983 to truly diversify MTV’s rotation. However, even in 1981, clips from British new wave acts like Duran Duran and Soft Cell began turned up, prefiguring the so-called Second British Invasion that MTV would help fuel in subsequent years.
While it would take until 1983 for MTV to reach critical mass, climbing from availability on 300 cable systems to over 2,000; its launch immediately recalibrated the priorities of record companies. No longer would a song’s hook suffice: artists now aspired to visual storytelling that could translate into high-rotation video exposure. This new paradigm laid the groundwork for a deeper fusion of image and sound throughout the decade.
One “British” band that benefitted from MTV was
The Police. Their sharp, photogenic image and Sting’s charisma made them perfect for the fledgling video era. The group put out their fourth album “Ghost in the Machine” in the Fall of ’81, where they moved well beyond the taut, reggae‑tinged post‑punk of their early years into a darker, more expansive sound. The record layers synthesizers, horns, and atmospheric production over the trio’s core interplay, signalling Sting’s growing creative dominance. Produced with Hugh Padgham, the record has a sleek, cinematic polish that contrasts with the sparseness of Zenyatta Mondatta. Lyrically, it is steeped in philosophical and political reflection, from the existential unease of “Spirits in the Material World” to the bleak urban imagery of “Invisible Sun”, both of which enjoyed heavy rotation on MTV; as did “
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic”, a buoyant, piano‑driven pop gem with a Caribbean lilt that makes my initial playlist. Ghost in the Machine has sold an estimated 8 million copies worldwide, including 3× Platinum in the US (3 million units). It topped the UK albums chart and hit #2 on the US Billboard 200.
For American audiences in ’81, television might soon mean William Shatner singing, but for those clued-in to pop, MTV promised something else: a direct pipeline from the UK’s flamboyant new-wave video-makers. The first big surprise was that many of the acts flooding the charts were British
. Sheena Easton scored a US #1 with
“9 to 5” (renamed “Morning Train (Nine to Five)”. She was a former Scottish teenager who won a TV talent show, but suddenly every American teen girl was learning to say “Jimmy Choos” instead of “Magic Shoes.” This was an early hint that British glamour could crack the American market.
Meanwhile, classic rock and pop bred the biggest US chart hits of ’81. Singer Kenny Rogers (on his endless country-pop train) scored the #3 song of the year with “Lady, an overproduced ballad written by the Bee Gees. Similarly successful was Diana Ross duetting with Lionel Richie on “Endless Love”, the theme from the film of the same name became Motown’s best-selling single.
Diana Ross made headlines beyond “Endless Love.” In May 1981, Diana shocked fans by leaving Motown after two decades for a $20 million deal with RCA. This was the richest contract yet, signalling that labels were ready to spend. Such moves might not have immediate ripple effects on the music itself, but they signalled how big business had become in pop.
Actress and Country superstar Dolly Parton took her irrepressible “9 to 5” a disco-pop-tinged ode to office life and empowerment to #9. It became Parton’s signature mainstream hit, earning Grammy awards in both pop and country categories and later an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Song as the theme to her film debut.
And to tickle the novelty bone, pop radio served up “Stars on 45” (a Dutch disco medley of Beatles riffs disguised as a single), which ended up a # 24 year-end hit in the US.
No American singles chart summary would be complete without Kim Carnes’ “Bette Davis Eyes.” This haunting pop-rock song, written in 1974 but energised by sparse synth bass and Carnes’ husky growl, was the bestselling single of 1981.
Synthpop also permeated the American airwaves. New Yokers Blondie, who had flirted with disco and punk in the late ’70s, had had softened their trademark punky edge and enjoyed a major success with “Rapture”, a dreamy electro-funk track that was the first US #1 single to feature rap vocals. Blondie helped show that synth-heavy, danceable pop was not just a European thing and could rule the American charts whilst also laying early groundwork for hip-hop’s crossover into the pop sphere
In R&B and soul, funk and disco, survivors reformed into slick power acts. Daryl Hall & John Oates topped the charts with “Kiss on My List” (# 7 year-end single) and “Private Eyes.” Their radio-friendly soul/pop epitomised the slick ‘80s production values. Kool & the Gang’s disco anthem “Celebration” (released late 1980) was still riding high into 1981, peaking at #6 on the year-end chart. Meanwhile Earth, Wind & Fire stuck to the scene with “Let’s Groove”, proving that the R&B-dance torch was still being held high.
Rick James’s “Super Freak” packed a rock-funk punch, peaking at # 16 on the pop chart and soaring in the R&B rankings with its innovative TR-808-driven groove, it gave MC Hammer the sample bed for “U Can’t Touch This” nearly a decade later, demonstrating how 1981 dance floor grooves would echo into hip-hop’s golden age.
Riding out the storm
Amid all the synth in 1981, guitars still roared. Arena rock and hard rock acts were filling stadiums and radio playlists on both sides of the Atlantic.
REO Speedwagon saw their album, “Hi Infidelity”, released in late 1980 shoot to the top of the Billboard 200 for many weeks, pushed on by singles like “Keep on Loving You.” “Hi Infidelity” was declared the best-selling album of 1981 in America. REO had a slow rise to major stardom. Their first album was released in 1971, and they only cracked the Top 40 in 1978. They were one of those big in the Mid-West bands that toured relentlessly. Their album prior to “Hi Infidelity” was a much harder rocking affair, “Nine Lives”. “Hi Infidelity” was more AOR / pop oriented and found huge favour coast-to-coast.
I was fortunate enough to see REO in Oakland on the West Coast – for those that don’t know Oakland was to San Francisco what Salford was to Manchester – at one of their legendary
Day on the Green events, which were all‑day rock concerts masterminded by iconic promoter Bill Graham and held at the Oakland–Alameda County Coliseum. The green being the pitch, which was home to both Major League Baseball’s Oakland Athletics and the NFL franchise Oakland Raiders, who would relocate to L.A. the following year and are now in Las Vegas.
REO topped a bill featuring Kansas, UFO, .38 Special and Gamma (a Bay Area rock outfit led by guitarist Ronnie Montrose). My travelling companion (DR) and I were guests of UFO thanks to legendary rock photographer Ross Halfin, who was on tour with UFO along with Sounds journalist Pete Makowski to do a feature on the British hard rockers. We knew Ross quite well at this point due to him photographing DR’s band for a feature in Sounds by the mighty Geoff Barton, who would oversee the launch of Kerrang magazine in 1981.
We got to watch UFO from stage side and were stood by their backline as they wrecked it in a huff. We got to lig backstage between acts and were just sitting on some flight cases awaiting Kansas’ set and were amused by Kansas keyboard player and lead vocalist Steve Walsh obsequiously sucking up to Bill Graham, who was one of the most powerful men in the US music industry. We were also surprised when the band’s bassist, four string in hand, wandered over to chat to two young nobodies while he waited to go up onto the stage.
Another memory from backstage was queuing for the bar-b-q food immediately behind Donny (bother of Ronnie & Johnny) Van Zant, one of the two lead singers in
.38 Special, who were touring their very fine “Wild Eyed Southern Boys” album, which contains two tracks that I absolutely adore. I will put one of those, “
Fantasy Girl”, on the initial playlist; the other “Hold on Loosely”, will eventually appear. Both have sentimental value for me.
Meanwhile, Styx found US success with “The Best of Times”, and country-rock icons the Eagles had a # 7 hit with “Heartache Tonight.”
But in AOR (yes, that term) circles one album has an elevated position. When “Escape” landed in July 1981, it wasn’t just another arena rock record: it was the moment
Journey vaulted from successful to global AOR powerhouse. The album topped the US Billboard 200 and went on to sell over 10 million copies in the States alone, cementing the band’s place in rock history.
The record marked a pivotal personnel change: founding keyboardist and co-lead singer Gregg Rolie had departed at the end of 1980, and Jonathan Cain, fresh from The Babys, stepped in. Cain’s arrival reshaped the band’s chemistry. His classical training and melodic sensibility brought a more polished, ballad-friendly edge, complementing Steve Perry’s soaring vocals and Neal Schon’s guitar firepower. Cain also became a key songwriting partner, co-penning most of the album’s tracks, including its signature anthem.
“Escape” was co-produced by Kevin Elson (a former Lynyrd Skynyrd sound engineer) and Mike Stone (noted for his work with Queen). Elson’s live-sound expertise helped capture the band’s arena-filling energy, while Stone’s studio precision gave the record its crisp, radio-ready sheen. Together, they balanced the grit of rock instrumentation with the clarity needed for FM dominance in the early ’80s.
The album’s mix of arena-ready rockers and heartfelt ballads became a blueprint for ’80s AOR. It appealed to both rock purists and pop audiences, helping Journey dominate radio and MTV. While some critics at the time dismissed it as overly commercial, “Escape” has since been hailed as one of the greatest AOR albums ever; its songs still filling stadiums, playlists, and karaoke nights over four decades later.
Notable tracks include:
- "Who’s Crying Now" The first single, blending a smooth, mid-tempo groove with Schon’s extended melodic outro. It climbed to # 4 and demonstrated the band’s knack for merging rock musicianship with pop accessibility.
- "Open Arms" Co-written by Perry and Cain, this power ballad reached # 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 and set the template for countless ’80s rock love songs. Its lush arrangement and heartfelt delivery showcased the softer side of Journey without sacrificing emotional punch.
- "Stone in Love" A fan favourite with a driving riff from Schon and nostalgic lyrics from Perry. It’s one of the album’s purest rockers, balancing the record’s ballad-heavy reputation.
- "Mother, Father" A dramatic, musically ambitious cut co-arranged by Neal Schon’s father, Matt Schon. It blends progressive rock complexity with Perry’s impassioned vocals, proving Journey could still stretch beyond radio formulas.
Oh yeah, and there is the little matter of the album’s opening track, one that I can honestly say I fell in love with from the off, my vinyl copy of the album was purchased on my US trip. The track that is a playlist essential and a staple of mine since mix tape days is that cultural touchstone
Don’t Stop Believin’.
Built on Cain’s instantly recognisable piano riff, Perry’s emotive vocals and lyrics painting vivid small-town imagery whilst Schon’s immortal guitar intro delivers an emotional lift, it boldly withholds its chorus until the final minute.
Second single from the album, its message of hope and perseverance resonated instantly, helping its climb to # 9 on the Billboard Hot 100.
At the time, it was a defining example of arena rock’s emotional and melodic power: big enough for stadiums, personal enough for headphones. It also influenced other bands to experiment with song structure and blend raw rock energy with polished production.
The song’s true impact though came decades later when the song had a major rebirth. Its use in The Sopranos finale (2007) turned it into a pop culture talking point, and Glee’s 2009 cover introduced it to a new generation. Sports arenas adopted it as a rallying cry, weddings and karaoke nights made it a staple, and digital sales pushed it into the ranks of the best-selling tracks of all time: it became best-selling digital track from the 20th century with over seven million downloads.
The song now bridges generations, with parents and kids singing it together, often without realising it’s over 40 years old. I took my daughter to see Nickelback in Birmingham last year and one of the tracks that came up on the pre-show tape was Don’t Stop…, the singalong that ensued would not have been out of place at an Oasis gig. I would have so loved to have seen Journey at the same venue, but they cancelled. At least Twin 2 and I did see them in Las Vegas three years ago.
Another summer AOR release that journeyed home across the Pond with me was Atlantic Records release “4” from Foreigner. Aptly titled, it wasn’t just their fourth studio album as it marked a leaner, more focused lineup after the departure of Ian McDonald and Al Greenwood, reducing the band to a core quartet of Lou Gramm, Mick Jones, Rick Wills, and Dennis Elliott. This personnel shift opened the door for session players like a young Thomas Dolby on keyboards and Junior Walker, whose sax solo on “Urgent” became one of rock’s most distinctive moments.
Co-produced by Jones and Robert John “Mutt” Lange, the latter fresh from overseeing AC/DC’s Back in Black, the album fused arena rock muscle with pop polish. Lange’s Midas touch and meticulous approach sharpened the hooks and gave the record a radio-ready gloss without sacrificing grit, and it was all over US radio when we were there. These tracks got heavy rotation:
“Juke Box Hero” A storytelling anthem with a brooding build and explosive payoff.
“Urgent” Driven by a sharp synth riff and Walker’s fiery sax break, it’s equal parts rock and dance-floor energy.
“Waiting for a Girl Like You” A lush, synth-led power ballad that spent a record-setting ten weeks at #2 on the US charts.
Although not quite as successful as “Escape”, “4” was still a commercial juggernaut, spending over 10 weeks at #1 on the Billboard 200 and selling over six million copies in the US alone and spawning multiple hit singles. Artistically, it captured Foreigner at their peak, balancing hard rock swagger with catchy crossover appeal.
Mutt Lange also had a hand in AC/DC’s late ’81 album release “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)”, his third and last time at the helm for Australia’s finest export. His fastidious approach, drive for perfection and endless tinkering ultimately led to the band pulling the plug on further collaboration. Compared to its predecessor, the all-conquering “Back in Black”, it was a modest seller (only quadruple platinum in the US) and a bit of a disappointment; although the title track was an instant classic and gave birth to a cannon salute sound effect that became a stadium-rock highlight.
Lange had already found a suitable replacement for AC/DC in his client portfolio, prior to going into the studio with the Aussie rockers, he was working with some British steel in the form of up-and-coming Sheffield rockers Def Leppard. The industrious South African produced their 1981 release “High ’n’ Dry”, which moved the dial in the right direction for the band who Lange would help to massive success in later years.
DR and I saw The Lepps live in a field, aka Music Mountain in Upstate New York, on our North American jaunt, where they were opening for
Ozzy Osbourne, who was touring in support of his forthcoming “Diary of a Madman” album, the second and final studio album to feature the immortal Randy Rhoads, which opens with the one-two punch of “
Over the Mountain” and “Flying High Again”, both marvellous examples of Rhoads’ guitar wizardry and Ozzy’s understanding of metal dynamics. I have gone with the former for playlist inclusion.
Def Leppard were part of the “New Wave of British Heavy Metal” (NWOBHM), which had been bubbling since 1979, and by 1981 was going nuclear. The term (NWOBHM) was coined in ‘79 by Sounds editor Alan Lewis and popularised by journalist Geoff Barton. Its roots were not dissimilar to punk, as catalysts included economic recession and high youth unemployment pushing working class musicians toward a DIY ethic: self-producing singles, playing pubs and clubs, and building grassroots followings. Also, punk’s speed and rawness were often fused with the riff driven weight of 1970s hard rock to create a faster, more aggressive metal sound; although that was not always the case, as Leppard demonstrated.
Other key players in the movement included Iron Maiden, Saxon, Diamond Head, Tygers of Pan Tang, Angel Witch, Raven and Venom.
Iron Maiden released their second album “Killers” in February ’81. It reached number 12 in the UK album charts thanks to tracks like “Wrathchild”, which has remained a constant in their set lists. The band toured the US in the summer of ’81 to promote the album there and DR and I saw one of their shows, supporting UFO at Long Beach Arena. Once more we were guests of UFO thanks to Ross Halfin. I recall being amazed at the amount of lights UFO allowed Maiden to use during their set: I had never seen a support band get to use a full rig in that way before. I was even more gobsmacked during UFO’s set when the backdrop on the stage was pulled aside to reveal a wall of spots that had been carefully concealed. We’d walked past them from backstage and not even spotted them.
Earlier in the day, we had been hanging out around the pool at the famous rock band haunt The Sunset Marquis, where UFO were staying, and Sylvie Simmons. Sounds US based correspondent turned up to interview Maiden’s leader, bassist Steve Harris. Ross introduced DR to her as Steve, and she fell for it (well, both were West Ham supporting bass players) and started to grill him before we let on that he was an imposter.
Worth noting that, later in the year, Maiden dumped their lead singer Paul Di’Anno and recruited Samson front man Bruce Dickinson, who would pilot them to major and enduring global success.
The NWOBHM featured a great many bands, most of which failed to achieve lasting success. Leppard and Maiden were the big successes. Saxon were one of the few to have a long career and their 1981 album “Denim and Leather” made the UK top ten and featured "And the Bands Played On" about the 1980 Monsters of Rock Festival headlined by Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow (whose “Difficult to Cure” long player was one of the very few major label metal albums to trouble the UK charts in 1981).
One band that did not achieve major success but was quite influential emerged from the heavy metal heartland of the West Midlands, Diamond Head, who Metallica covered and cite as a key inspiration. As noted in my intro, DH themselves wore their main influence on what remained of their t-shirts’ sleeves, one Led Zeppelin. The band headed out on a three-week headlining tour of the UK, commencing 19 June 1981 at the Walsall Town Hall and taking in several established smaller venues as well as theatres such as Manchester’s legendary Free Trade Hall. The tour ended at the Odeon in riot torn Woolwich on 10 July – a gig I believe future Metallica drummer Lar Ulrich attended.
The support act for the tour was then up and coming Macclesfield glam metal outfit Silverwing, best known for signature song “Rock and Roll Are Four Letter Words”, which appeared on the influential New Electric Warriors compilation (Logo Records, 1980) and, later, on retrospective NWOBHM anthologies. The Wing had been featured in Sounds thanks to a Geoff Barton interview, alongside a Ross Halfin photoshoot and including an OB1 quote that was (wrongly) attributed to one of the group. The interview was held at “my” house, with my Mum serving tea and biscuits – very rock “n” roll. Barton would later write the lyrics for another Silverwing classic “Flash Bomb Fever”, featuring the wonderfully pre-woke line “More bombs than Dresden”.
The four-piece band’s rhythm section consisted of two brothers that I count as my best friends (drummer SR was best man at my wedding and vice-versa). SR and I shared the tour Transit driving and I operated the lights at each show. I was only allowed to use the lights at the sides of the stage but, even so, DH’s lead singer Sean Harris reckoned I did a better job than the professional in charge of the whole rig.
One story I must recount, as did guitarist/ singer Alistair Terry in a recent online interview, occurred at West Runton Pavillion on the Norfolk Coast. Silverwing did not get to soundcheck so I was testing the mics on the drums shortly before they were due to come on by banging on them with SR’s drumsticks and, to much hilarity, some local yokel wag in the audience piped up in a strong East Country accent: “I can’t play drums either”. Sadly, he was right, and I have never been allowed to forget it.
A week after the tour with Diamond Head finished, bass player DR and I were watching Diamond Dave in his pomp.
On the morning of Friday 17 July 1981, armed with a pair of runaround tickets for Continental Airlines that would allow us a month’s unlimited travel on their internal routes in the USA, we were dropped at Manchester International Airport by my girlfriend where we boarded one of Freddie Laker’s Skytrain’s DC-10s and flew to New York’s JFK. At JFK, we were met by three young ladies, AKA The Kissettes, that we had met the previous year backstage at KISS’ UK gigs, all of which we had attended. They drove us to one of their parents’ houses in Queens to drop our bags off and then straight into the heart of Manhattan and what to two gawping young men stepping onto US soil for the first time looked like canyons made of steel and glass. Our destination was Madison Square Garden.
Van Halen’s first arena tour behind “Fair Warning” had sold out Madison Square Garden in record time. We somehow managed to get five tickets together on the seventh row from scalpers (touts) outside the venue. Sat almost in front of us on the fifth row was then KISS drummer Eric Carr with his girlfriend, completely unrecognised by all those around him other than our little posse.
I always put the gig atop my list of favourite concerts. I have a few vivid memories of the show but not enough to write a review – much to the short-lived relief of some readers – so I shall paraphrase Stephen Holden of the New York Times:
Holden described the show as more than just a rock concert — it was a
three‑ring circus. David Lee Roth, in a flamboyant gladiator‑style outfit, acted as the ringleader, tossing his long blond hair, executing high kicks, bump‑and‑grind moves, and even strip‑tease‑like flourishes. When he wasn’t singing or leaping about, he addressed the crowd with the exaggerated, mock‑condescending patter of a carnival barker or children’s TV host. Eddie Van Halen, meanwhile, was his “right‑hand man,” treating his guitar like a weapon — playing it with his teeth, jumping on it, and whipping the audience into a frenzy. The sound was a wall of thunderous power chords, so loud it made the blues‑based riffs and lyrics almost impossible to make out. Holden noted this was a pity, because “Fair Warning” was one of the strongest heavy‑metal albums in years and showed Eddie’s range as a guitarist. The teenage crowd, however, didn’t seem to mind, they stayed on their feet for the entire show, getting exactly the spectacle they came for.
To this day, I swear that pound for pound this was the loudest crowd I have ever encountered, and Dave had them eating out his hand. He could just stand there and give them a look in between songs and the decibel level would pound your ear drums like a Howitzer. In one of these moments, he was stood front and centre and someone threw a plastic cup up on stage, which he just caught in one hand without missing a beat or spilling any or its contents.
I could review the “Fair Warning” album, but it is just more prime VH, catchy metal with awesome, inventive guitar from Eddie. I have of course selected a track from it for the playlist - “
Unchained”, which is famous for producer Ted Templeman’s famous mid‑song line:
“C’mon, Dave, gimme a break!”
After the VH gig, we drove to a club (Hammerheads) on Long Island to catch a couple of sets from an unknown in the UK at that time band, Twisted Sister. Along the way we visited a 7:11 and I had my first drink of Mountain Dew, neither of which had made it to the UK yet. One hell of a long but very memorable day.
The next evening, we went to see a band called New England at a small Manhattan venue; I included their best-known song on the 1979 playlist. They released their third album in 1981, produced by Todd Rundgren, but never made a major breakthrough.
We headed out from NY after the weekend, as the clock was ticking on our runaround tickets, and quickly made our way to Los Angeles, where, along with lots of obvious tourist stuff, we took in a concert at the LA Arena, which was very close to where we were staying, headlined by
Blue Oyster Cult who had recently released “Fire of Unknown Origin”. Produced by Martin Birch (Deep Purple / Rainbow), this eighth studio album blends the band’s hard rock roots with a sleeker, early‑’80s sheen, adding more synthesizers and theatrical flair. Standouts like “
Burnin’ for You” and “Veteran of the Psychic Wars” showcase their knack for melodic hooks wrapped in mysterious, sci‑fi‑tinged lyrics. Often hailed as their best ’80s release, it’s a polished yet quirky record that balances radio‑friendly appeal with the band’s cult mystique. “Burnin’ for You”, quickly became one of my favourite tracks (it made my Top 20 on the BH vote). Written and sung by lead guitarist Donald “Buck Dharma) Roeser, it features on of my favourite lines:
“Time everlasting, time to play B‑sides / Time ain’t on my side, time I’ll never know”. It goes on the playlist.
“Veteran of the Psychic Wars” was featured on the soundtrack of the 1981 animated cult classic movie adaptation of the comic “Heavy Metal”. Its brooding martial rhythm and cosmic‑warrior imagery fit perfectly with the film’s dark, sci‑fi‑fantasy tone, making it one of the standout tracks in a soundtrack already packed with rock heavyweights. We saw the movie on its US theatrical release when we returned to New York. A copy of the double soundtrack album made its way home with me and still nestles in my vinyl collection.
This is about the music of 1981, but I will mention two movie going experiences we had when in LA relating to films with notable soundtracks. When visiting Hollywood, we caught a movie at the world famous Grauman’s Chinese Theatre: “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. The sound system in there was a revelation, to this day I do not think I have heard another movie at as great a volume. That combined with a huge screen made it the most memorable trip to the cinema of my life.
On a smaller scale, the University we were staying at had a food hall and multiscreen cinema on the edge of the campus that was open to the public. We went to see the John Carpenter movie “Escape From New York”. In addition to having an excellent German synth inspired soundtrack by the director, it also featured Isaac Hayes as the bad guy. DR and I were literally the only white people in the theatre watching the film and it is fair to say that we were quite surprised to see and hear the other audience members whooping and hollering in support of Kurt Russell’s Snake Plissken as he tried to escape the clutches of Hayes’ bad guy at the movie’s climax.