Rock Evolution – The History of Rock & Roll - 1984 - (page 198)

The History of Rock & Roll - 1983

And so we're told this is the golden age
And gold is the reason for the wars we wage
Though I want to be with you, be with you night and day
Nothing changes on New Year's Day

I know I already touched on this, but the strong first 10 that @Saddleworth2 offered up for this year had both that nostalgic and reassuring sound that my wife and I really enjoyed on our VT visit. Standouts for me would be U2's "New Years Day" as quoted above, as this was the year I would first hear the band. I nominated another song from the album as it is one of my favourites. Kenny and Dolly singing along was also a nice smile to a time long-gone, and I too echo Sadd's note about Dolly's voice - just impeccable. My wife preferred Culture Club and The Smiths from music she was listening to at that time. My next choices next to U2 would be The Police and Big Country's hits, but all 10 were enjoyable.

The Big Winner
“She's A Beauty” – The Tubes, maybe not my favourite song from this year, but when I think about that year, this song always rises to the top for reasons I mentioned at the time of its nomination here. Tough to shake that history...

Top New Songs
  1. "Script for a Jester's Tear" - Marillion, a buddy of mine named his first daughter after one of their top hit future songs, and always asked me why I wasn't into them given my similar prog rock leanings at the time. One band I plan to listen to more now that we're in this decade given their early Genesis/Yes/Rush/Floyd sound, and later influenced a UK band I love.
  2. "A Place In The Sun" - Marine Girls, a not to be confused with Everything But The Girl to come later, this was quite enjoyable indie, very subdued but accessible with that bass line.
  3. "The First Picture of You" - The Lotus Eaters, just an amazing new wave pop song that I've never heard before. Quite the find here, given they weren't ever popular or charted in the US.
  4. "A Girl Called Johnny" - The Waterboys, given how much I've enjoyed their later output, it's no surprise this gem worked so well for me. Love that sax and piano sound.
  5. "Right Now" - The Creatures, probably the throwback surprise that I didn't see coming with some fantastic vocals, drums, and of course those horns. Souxsie and Budgie shine here!
  6. "Temple of Love" - Sisters of Mercy, never heard this or of this band before, but a very catchy and danceable post-punk sound from this English dark rock institution
  7. "Age of Consent" and "Blue Monday" - New Order, I know I've heard these, but I don't think I've ever listened to them intently, so I'll count this in this group here as this was not my normal genre back then.
  8. "Get the Balance Right!" - Depeche Mode, every earlier song from this band I've enjoyed from later material, so that's another win here. The vocals from them are unmistakable.
  9. "The Busy Girl Buys Beauty" - Billy Bragg, some good stripped down folk punk
  10. "Nobody's Diary" - Yazoo, very nice vocals and snyths that was big in the US at the dance clubs
Top Songs I Knew Quite Well
  1. "Going Home: Theme Of The Local Hero" - Mark Knopfler, "Howay the lads", indeed! ;-)
  2. "Overkill" - Men At Work, I think Hay's vocal range in the last verse at 2:45 doesn't get enough credit for how varied and spine tingling it really is.
  3. "Separate Ways" - Journey, one of the few Journey songs I really liked back then, thank you Neil Schon
  4. "Love Is A Battlefield" - Pat Benatar, vocals alone from Pat on this song gives her the icon status in female rock vocals to me
  5. "King of Pain" - The Police, I liked this and the title track more than the iconic hit off of this album
  6. "Pride and Joy" - Stevie Ray Vaughan, the song that started it all for the guitarist legend
  7. "Come Dancing'" - The Kinks, always one of my favorite songs from the lyrics master Ray Davies, a bigger hit in the US than the UK.
  8. "Pink Houses" - John Cougar Mellencamp, the first album with the last name. Wasn't that America, you and me?
  9. "Gimme All Your Lovin'" - ZZ Top, the album and year that ZZ Top made it on the popular rock map, this album was on some endless loops at the time. Haven't listened much since stranglely.
  10. "I Want A New Drug'" - Huey Lewis, initially loved the album, but it too got overplayed on FM radio. Not Huey's fault, but it happened.
Honorable mention to Def Leppard, Michael Jackson carry over hits from 1982, Billy Joel, and Talking Heads, all big FM radio staples too.

On Second Thought
I just never was an initial fan of the Violent Femmes "Blister In The Sun" back in the 80's, probably lyrically for the most part. Musically, a great song. I should probably add "Relax" here too, but I'm still trying to warm up there too, a continued "work in progress".
 
Last edited:
Black&White&BlueMoon Town said:
The History of Rock & Roll - 1983

And so we're told this is the golden age
And gold is the reason for the wars we wage
Though I want to be with you, be with you night and day
Nothing changes on New Year's Day

I know I already touched on this, but the strong first 10 that @Saddleworth2 offered up for this year had both that nostalgic and reassuring sound that my wife and I really enjoyed on our VT visit. Standouts for me would be U2's "New Years Day" as quoted above, as this was the year I would first hear the band. I nominated another song from the album as it is one of my favourites. Kenny and Dolly singing along was also a nice smile to a time long-gone, and I too echo Sadd's note about Dolly's voice - just impeccable. My wife preferred Culture Club and The Smiths from music she was listening to at that time. My next choices next to U2 would be The Police and Big Country's hits, but all 10 were enjoyable.

The Big Winner
“She's A Beauty” – The Tubes, maybe not my favourite song from this year, but when I think about hat year, this song always rises to the top for reasons I mentioned at the time of its nomination here. Tough to shake that history...

Top New Songs
  1. "Script for a Jester's Tear" - Marillion, a buddy of mine named his first daughter after one of their top hit future songs, and always asked me why I wasn't into them given my similar prog rock leanings at the time. One band I plan to listen to more now that we're in this decade given their early Genesis/Yes/Rush/Floyd sound, and later influenced a UK band I love.
  2. "A Place In The Sun" - Marine Girls, a not to be confused with Everything But The Girl to come later, this was quite enjoyable indie, very subdued but accessible with that bass line.
  3. "The First Picture of You" - The Lotus Eaters, just an amazing new wave pop song that I've never heard before. Quite the find here, given they weren't ever popular or charted in the US.
  4. "A Girl Called Johnny" - The Waterboys, given how much I've enjoyed their later output, it's no surprise this gem worked so well for me. Love that sax and piano sound.
  5. "Right Now" - The Creatures, probably the throwback surprise that I didn't see coming with some fantastic vocals, drums, and of course those horns. Souxsie and Budgie shine here!
  6. "Temple of Love" - Sisters of Mercy, never heard this or of this band before, but a very catchy and danceable post-punk sound from this English dark rock institution
  7. "Age of Consent" and "Blue Monday" - New Order, I know I've heard these, but I don't think I've ever listened to them intently, so I'll count this in this group here as this was not my normal genre back then.
  8. "Get the Balance Right!" - Depeche Mode, every earlier song from this band I've enjoyed from later material, so that's another win here. The vocals from them are unmistakable.
  9. "The Busy Girl Buys Beauty" - Billy Bragg, some good stripped down folk punk
  10. "Nobody's Diary" - Yazoo, very nice vocals and snyths that was big in the US at the dance clubs
Top Songs I Knew Quite Well
  1. "Going Home: Theme Of The Local Here" - Mark Knopfler, "Howay the lads", indeed! ;-)
  2. "Overkill" - Men At Work, I think Hay's vocal range in the last verse at 2:45 doesn't get enough credit for how varied and spine tingling it really is.
  3. "Separate Ways" - Journey, one of the few Journey songs I really liked back then, thank you Neil Schon
  4. "Love Is A Battlefield" - Pat Benatar, vocals alone from Pat on this song gives her the icon status in female rock vocals to me
  5. "King of Pain" - The Police, I liked this and the title track more than the iconic hit off of this album
  6. "Pride and Joy" - Stevie Ray Vaughan, the song that started it all for the guitarist legend
  7. "Come Dancing'" - The Kinks, always one of my favorite songs from the lyrics master Ray Davies, a bigger hit in the US than the UK.
  8. "Pink Houses" - John Cougar Mellencamp, the first album with the last name. Wasn't that America, you and me?
  9. "Gimme All Your Lovin'" - ZZ Top, the album and year that ZZ Top made it on the popular rock map, this album was on some endless loops at the time. Haven't listened much since stranglely.
  10. "I Want A New Drug'" - Huey Lewis, initially loved the album, but it too got overplayed on FM radio. Not Huey's fault, but it happened.
Honorable mention to Def Leppard, Michael Jackson carry over hits from 1982, Billy Joel, and Talking Heads, all big FM radio staples too.

On Second Thought
I just never was an initial fan of the Violent Femmes "Blister In The Sun" back in the 80's, probably lyrically for the most part. Musically, a great song. I should probably add "Relax" here too, but I'm still trying to warm up there too, a continued "work in progress".
Click to expand...
Yay I won The Big Winner nomination:-)
 
Some great nominations here already and whilst we have plenty of synth pop and indie, there's other genres that are appearing here that I think we have missed

Here's a few from me

Herbie Hancock - Rockit

It's quite hard to describe how different this new hip hop/electro sound was. Things like scratching weren't like anything I had heard as a young lad and to be honest I found it fascinating. I would listen to my Dad and Uncle debate it. My Dad admired the use of turntables to make a new sound which I think was quite admirable given he was into Joni, Steely Dan, Zappa etc. my Uncle hated it and I just found it fascinating!

Watching TV clips of these robotic guys in the US moving (I was too young to know if people regarded it as dancing) and spinning on their heads was absolutely engrossing. I do find it astonishing how it's always the music of the poor (blues, jazz, hip hop, funk, soul and rock n roll) that always has such huge influence and without doubt the sound of hip hop and electro was something else and will come to dominate in later years.

1983 is also the year that the first House Music record was recorded and we see the club's appearing marking the "official" move from Disco to House for club nights in the US.

Soon after that sound will be imported to a night club in Manchester and will transform the fortunes of it! Without House it's hard to imagine the Hacienda and the rebooting of Manchester from post-industrial shit hole to world class city!

Grandmaster Flash and Melle Mel- White Lines

Arguably the greatest hip hop track ever made. It's an absolute classic that everyone knows and can be played at any party with people knowing it!

Theres not much to add apart from how good it sounds and it carries such a "positive" message unlike a lot of it's descendents nowadays.

It's catchy, melodic and utterly brilliant.

Rufus and Chaka Khan - Ain't Nobody

Whilst aynths get a lot of bad press, it the right hands and with the right voice they are as sleek, sexy and organic as any rock classic. That funk backing just makes it something else.

The synth bass line on this makes the song and Chaka Khans vocals are superb. It's another classic from this year!

Metallica - Whiplash

Their debut album in this year marks the birth of a new genre - thrash metal. Along with Slayer and Megadeth they are probably it's founding fathers. I'll be honest it's not my cup of tea but without doubt we had to nod to Metallica for their influence on metal.

It's been great to read some of the stories and how the music weaves its way through all our lives. I can't remember who said it about their Panasonic radio, but the I fluence of radio from the medium itself sending new sounds around countries, exporting culture to the radio shows, DJs, charts etc is a story in itself. I've got a collection of 70s radios and LOVE playing the music from my laptop through a transmitter to my Grundigs, Hacker and Roberts radios. It's the closest I can get to hearing these songs as I did back on my clock radio as a kid. Going back to the TV footage if the hip hop dancers, I always wanted a ghetto blaster as I'm hoping to pick one up in the new year! :)

Great to hear Local Hero too, a beautiful song and one I've heard many times driving back over the Tyne Brige to visit the in-laws. Sadly my Father In Law is no longer around but he loved that song and I'll always associate it with my Geordie in-laws.
 
“Someday they won't let you, now you must agree
The times they are a-telling, and the changing isn't free
You've read it in the tea leaves, and the tracks are on TV
Beware the savage lure
Of 1984

They'll split your pretty cranium and fill it full of air
And tell that you're 80, but brother, you won't care
You'll be shooting up on anything, tomorrow's never there
Beware the savage lure
Of 1984”

David Bowie
1984


Ridley Scott. Apple Mac. Looks like Orwell’s back.
Torvill. Dean. Sarajevo. Olympic skating king and queen.
Wacko Jacko’s hair. Pepsi’s flare. Quite a scare.
Reagan landslide. Mondale down. Ferraro’s face a frown.

Transformers. Crack cocaine. Floppy Disk. Footsie gain.
Eric Morecambe. Tommy Cooper. Just Like That. No coming back.
Pop and politics collide. Geldof takes Ethiopia’s side.
Liverpool. Everton. Effing Scousers win everything.

Cyndi Lauper, girls have fun. MTV is number one.
Crown Court. Elsie Tanner. Crackerjack won’t be back.
Indira shot, the riots spread. Bhopal gas leaves thousands dead.
Reagan’s Star Wars. Soviets fume. Cold War shadows still loom.

Ghostbusters. Gremlins. Sixteen Candles. Karate Kid.
UK miners. Coppers clash. Orgreave’s batons. Shields that smash.
Union fading. Thatcher strong. Bitter strike drags on too long.
Charts exploding, neon bright, pop and metal share the night.

Niki Lauda. Dan Marino. Doug Flutie. Michel Platini.
AIDS awareness, warnings mount, activists begin to count.
Brighton blast. Thatcher. Tebbit. IRA did it.
Reagan jokes live on TV, “We bomb Russia instantly.”

Motley Crüe tear up Donington. Roth and Sixx go head on.
Triumph Acclaim. Vauxhall Chevette. Cars we’ll soon forget.
Terminator. Schwarzenegger. “I’ll be back.” Sarah Connor under attack.
Apple. Atari. Commodore. Kids are gaming more and more.

Tetris puzzles fall in place. Madonna heading for the cover of The Face.
ET phones home on VHS. John DeLorean is under stress.
Chariots lighting British flame. Steve Redgrave enters frame.
LA cheerleaders. Blimp parade. “Where’s the beef?” is Wendy’s catchphrase.

Thompson. Budd. Coe. Cram.
Monterey Bay Aquarium. Thomas the Tank Engine.
Liz Taylor. Betty Ford. Larry Fortensky comes on board.
Frankie says relax, don’t do it, radio ban can’t subdue it.

Maradona. Barcelona. Napoli. Big fee.
Fans switch on. Chelsea play Man City live on BBC 1.
Jeopardy! Miami Vice. The Cosby Show. Murder She Wrote.
Indiana Jones, adventure calls, Romancing the Stone through movie halls.

Celtics. Raiders. Tigers. Oilers.
Pet Sematary. BT Shares. Virgin Atlantic. Starlight Express.
Prince cooks. Walter Payton rushes into record books.
The Bill. Spitting Image. Smith and Jones. Alas they invade our homes.

Thames Barrier. Monstrous Carbuncle. Andropov. Chernenko.
Iran. Iraq. Desert War. Chemical attack?
Dors. Betjeman. Rossiter. Razzle.
Donald Duck still going strong. Hong Kong won’t be British for long.

A Nightmare on Elm Street. Beverly hills Cop. Neither flop.
Prince Harry. Empire of the Sun. Hulk Hogan.
Wimbledon? McEnroe and Navratilova both won.
Papa John gets a pizza your action. Rick Allen misses Snake Pass junction.

Ghetto blasters thumping streets. Synthpop’s electric beats.
Carl Lewis sprints. Gold medals won. Olympic fever. LA sun.
Pastel jackets. Parachute pants. Kids moonwalking at the high school dance.
1984, the fire’s still burning, history’s pages keep turning.

PART 1
1984: The Soundtrack of a cultural revolution

This is the story of 1984 in music: the albums, the hits, the absurdities, and the legacy.

If George Orwell lived to see the actual year that bore his influential book’s name, he might have swapped dystopian surveillance for synthpop saturation. It turned out that 1984 was not about grey conformity. Orwell had clearly not reckoned on Prince’s purple trench coat, Bruce’s blue jeans or David Lee Roth’s tiger stripe leggings. Instead of Big Brother’s telescreen, you got MTV’s endless loop of spandex-clad guitar heroes and glossy new romantics. Instead of boot stamps, we had kick drums. And, instead of Thought Police, we had Frankie saying “Relax”, which, ironically, was the one thing nobody did all year.

If 1983 was the year MTV found its feet, then 1984 was when it kicked down the door, strutted in wearing a sequined glove and a Union Jack mini-dress, and declared itself the new kingmaker. The UK was pumping out stylish pop juggernauts with videos filmed in exotic locales and had a chart scene that somehow swung from Wham! to Band Aid to The Smiths. Meanwhile, the US was in the throes of a stadium rock renaissance, with denim, mullets, and synthesizers muscling into the charts. Charts that were clogged with tunes so omnipresent they should have come with government health warnings. And the underground on both sides of the Atlantic was restlessly mutating, giving birth to jangly indie, arty goth, and blistering thrash.

If there is one year that redefined the sonic DNA of the modern age, it is 1984, a year so monstrous, so thrillingly eclectic, you could almost feel the ozone crackle each time the radio dial flicked. It was an epochal detonation, a kaleidoscopic rush that splintered genre boundaries and mainlined music into every cranny of global culture.

1984 was also a big year for me personally because I sat and passed my PE II exams with the ICAEW (Institute of Chartered Accountants in England & Wales). The first thing I did after completing the exams was go and buy three albums that I wore the grooves down on. One had been released the previous year (“Genesis”) but two were new releases that proved to be the year’s key albums. The first of them turned me into a Springsteen fan and is in my top 10 favourite albums.

Born (Again) in the U.S.A.

Bruce Springsteen did not just release an album in June 1984; he unleashed a monster that defined a country’s mood and topped the charts worldwide. Born in the U.S.A. was instantly deployed on a thousand FM stations, gave birth to a record breaking seven Top 10 singles and sold over thirty million copies. It catapulted the Boss into stadium filling global superstar territory. His Levi clad derriere became the most famous in rock. The recipe for success was:

  • Born in the U.S.A. – Mighty Max Weinberg’s thunderous opening drum crack might be the single most iconic snare hit of the decade. Then comes Roy Bittan’s synthesizer, bright as a sunrise over New Jersey, and Bruce’s growl, spitting verses about disillusionment and lost futures. It is simultaneously rousing and devastating - anthem and elegy in one. Of course, half the audience got it wrong: politicians thought the title track was a flag-waving anthem, much to Springsteen’s chagrin Ronald Reagan co-opted it for his re-election campaign, when in fact it was a howl of rage from a Vietnam vet discarded by his country.
  • Cover Me – Originally written for Donna Summer, Bruce kept it for himself when Jon Landau said, “Are you nuts?” Slick, seductive and sweaty.
  • Darlington County – A Southern road movie in five minutes. Two lads, a car, bad intentions.
  • Working on the Highway – Rockabilly bounce, prison romance.
  • Downbound Train – As desolate as its title. One of the saddest songs of the decade, blue collar heartbreak disguised as heartland rock.
  • I’m on Fire – Whispered lust. Utterly haunting. More dangerous than any power chord.
  • No Surrender – Garage band hymn. Teen dreams eternal. A love letter to three-minute records.
  • Bobby Jean – Platonic heartbreak. A farewell song, possibly to departed E Street guitarist Steven Van Zandt.
  • I’m Goin’ Down – A relationship crashes to a rock n roll beat.
  • Glory Days – Nostalgia bottled.
  • Dancing in the Dark – Max Weinberg’s drum machine, synths galore. MTV concession turned megahit. Courteney Cox dances into history.
  • My Hometown – A fitting finale. A hushed heartbreaking elegy to American decline.
Born in the U.S.A. was the sound of America in 1984: conflicted, hopeful, bitter, triumphant. The world tour that followed left both fans and the Boss himself drenched in sweat and catharsis. I was lucky enough to see him at Wembley the following year for a marathon show that remains one of the most memorable I have attended.

Purple reign

The other new release that I acquired after my exams was Prince & The Revolution’s Purple Rain, which went head-to-head with Bruce in the sales charts, and for once it was a fair fight.

Prince’s 1984 was seismic, a turbocharged purple meteorite smashing across America’s musical landscape. Purple Rain (both the film and the album) vaulted Prince from cult favourite to interstellar superstar. The LP spent 24 weeks at #1 on the Billboard 200, sold millions worldwide, and spawned generation-defining singles: the bass lineless “When Doves Cry,” “Let’s Go Crazy,” and the anthemic title track, all blending funk, rock, soul, and raw erotic energy.

Prince wasn’t just flexing musical muscle. He was the avatar of self-determination and sexual revolution, his Purple Rain Tour exploding with theatricality, gender-bending fashion, and a guitar sound that left amphitheatres buzzing. The film, part-odyssey, part-fantasy, mirrored the album’s ambition, tackling cycles of abuse, redemption, and joy. Every night, arenas erupted as Prince shredded, preened, and blurred the lines between messiah and misfit, his identity inseparable from his artistry.

The ripples were global: artists across genres scrambled to catch his innovation, and the Minneapolis Sound shattered the colour lines of radio and MTV. 1984 marked the coronation of Prince, the world’s weirdest, wildest, most intoxicating monarch.

Prince did not just join the conversation in 1984. He rewrote the dictionary.

Jump to it

The dictionary definition of party band would be Van Halen, who got the 1984 party started with their January release 1984. A swaggering album of distilled excess with neon bright keyboards, filthy innuendo, ridiculous videos, and Eddie Van Halen proving he could master synths as easily as guitar tapping. 1984 was proof that America’s biggest party band could reinvent itself, rewriting the rules for stadium mayhem and radio dominance in the process.

1984 was the album your parents hated, and your PE teacher secretly loved. It sold 10 million copies in the US and shoved hard rock into the MTV mainstream.

Nine tracks, no filler:

1984 - Sci-fi synth prelude. Blade Runner with Aqua Net.

  • Jump - Van Halen’s only U.S. # 1, featuring the happiest synth riff ever written and a chorus that could get Zombies singing along. Diamond Dave’s vocal is sunnier than a California summer. Eddie’s solo is short and sweeter than candy floss.
  • Panama – Hard rock perfection. The riff struts like a leather-clad cat, Alex Van Halen’s thunder demands that you air drum, while Roth raps about a car that may or may not be a metaphor for a different kind of ride.
  • Top Jimmy - Tribute to a Sunset Strip hero, played like a bar brawl in 4/4.
  • Drop Dead Legs - Funky sleaze. Roth’s eyebrows do most of the singing.
Hot for Teacher - Chaos incarnate. The iconic double-kick drum intro is like a herd of stampeding rhino. Eddie shreds like Fawn Hall on amphetamines. MTV’s most outrageous school play, with Roth as MC.

I’ll Wait - Another synth-driven track. Soulful and moody, co-written with a Doobie (Michael McDonald).

Girl Gone Bad - Complex, dark, shape shifting riffage.

House of Pain - A reworked leftover from their club days, ending the album with a raw, heavy punch.

1984 was both triumph and implosion. They’d never be this much fun again.

Heartland hooks

While the US had its denim prophet and its spandex party animals, Canada quietly produced the year’s stealth blockbuster. Recorded in Vancouver with producer Bob Clearmountain, Bryan Adams’ Reckless (released in November) was a masterclass in FM-friendly rock, delivering six hit singles.

He wasn’t as poetic as Bruce or as flamboyant as Roth, but his raspy voice, hooks sharp enough to catch sharks and an earnestness so pure it could be bottled made him the everyman hero of teenagers from Toronto to Tucson. Not flashy, not profound, but endlessly playable.

Highlights:
  • Run to You - Sinister chugging riff, lyrics about cheating.
  • Summer of ’69 - The eternal high-school anthem. And, no, it wasn’t about 1969.
  • Heaven - A big ballad with enough schmaltz to soundtrack every slow dance from ’85 to infinity.
  • Somebody - Churning riff, call-and-response chorus: arena rock 101.
  • It’s Only Love - Duet with Tina Turner, who promptly eats him alive on record.
Adams did not possess Bruce’s gravitas or Van Halen’s fireworks, but Reckless sold 12 million copies. It made him Canada’s biggest export not named Rush or maple syrup. Reckless didn’t reinvent the wheel; it polished it until it gleamed.

Into the unforgettable fire

Just as the world was lurching toward stadium grandeur, U2 pivoted from their post-punk roots to launch The Unforgettable Fire. Collaborating with Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, the Irish group chased atmosphere and abstraction. “Pride (In the Name of Love)” shone as a spiritual anthem for the era, while the title track and “Bad” signified political consciousness, reaching far beyond their Dublin origins.

The band’s soaring, delay-soaked sound transformed U2 into global icons-in-waiting. The Unforgettable Fire did not just signal a sonic change, it launched U2 as the earnest, impassioned conscience of a generation, foreshadowing their later status as rock’s moral megaphone.

The virgin queen

It wasn’t just the boys who were doing it for themselves in 1984. She had already made waves with “Holiday” and “Lucky Star, but then Madonna stopped playing by the rules and started rewriting them. With her sophomore sledgehammer Like a Virgin, she delivered Teflon pop choruses, neon visuals, and a cheeky sexuality that left censors and parents slack jawed.

The MTV-premiered “Like a Virgin” music video had Madonna writhing in a wedding dress on a Venetian gondola and gave her instant-icon status, searing her into pop culture’s retinas. Parents clutched their pearls, kids rewound their VHS tapes, and record executives ordered another round of yachts.

With Nile Rodgers’ sleek production and its canny blend of pop, disco, dance, and Motown the “Like a Virgin” album shot up the Billboard 200, staying atop for six weeks; “Material Girl” and “Angel” saw her dominate singles charts and dance floors alike. Madonna’s live debut, The Virgin Tour, sold out instantly, cementing her new role, not just as a chart-topper, but as the architect of multimedia stardom.

With her shameless charisma, Madonna seized the MTV age and never let go. She wasn’t the best singer, dancer, or songwriter but she was the best pop star.

Lady killers

Madonna may have dominated headlines, but she wasn’t alone. At 44, Tina Turner staged one of the greatest comebacks in music history with Private Dancer. After years in the wilderness, she roared back with “What’s Love Got to Do with It” and instantly became an icon for resilience, power, and killer legs.

With Mark Knopfler, Terry Britten, and a cadre of hotshot writers behind her, Tina became a cross-generational force. The record went multi-platinum, and a new wave of fans discovered her firebrand spirit. This was not just a feel-good story; it was pop’s greatest second act.

Cyndi Lauper’s She’s So Unusual continued to spin off hits, with “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” becoming a feminist karaoke staple for eternity.

In the UK, Sade brought a cooler vibe with Diamond Life, an album so smooth it could lubricate an entire dinner party, effortlessly blending soul, jazz, and pop while wearing oversized earrings that could probably pick up pirate radio signals.

The UK scene: synths, sass, and social commentary

Elsewhere in the UK, the charts were a glorious mess of synth-pop, soul revival, and politically charged anthems.

From Liverpool’s rain-slicked streets, Frankie Goes to Hollywood dominated the singles chart; they didn’t just go to Hollywood: they stormed it, stripped it naked, and made it dance.

“Relax,” turbocharged by fierce synth hooks and Holly Johnson’s impish vocals, became infamous after a BBC ban fuelled by perceived sexual explicitness. Instead of sinking, the single rocketed to No. 1 for five weeks - a two-fingered salute to authority. Cue a nationwide epidemic of “Frankie Says Relax” T-shirts, which spread faster than measles in a Merseyside primary school.

“Two Tribes” was Cold War paranoia set to a disco beat, complete with Ronald Reagan impersonators and nuclear countdowns.

Trevor Horn’s innovative production was bombastic, cinematic, and utterly irresistible. FGTH were outrageous, overblown, and subversive.

Frankie fever spread like fire, their leather-and-lace image and high-concept videos invading television and club culture—a demonstration of how the media machine could be subverted and the boundaries of pop smashed.

George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley were pop’s golden boys—clean-cut, catchy, and completely inescapable. Wham! graduated from bubble gum pop to full-blown global stardom. Wham! were the sound of summer, the face of Smash Hits, and the poster boys for a generation of teenage dreamers. “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” became the year’s purest pop sugar rush, while George Michael quietly sharpened his quill for future ballad domination.

I want my MTV

By 1984, MTV wasn’t just a TV channel, it was the music industry’s nerve centre.

If you weren’t photogenic, forget it. If you didn’t have a video, you didn’t exist. British acts, already more comfortable with eyeliner and awkward posing, dominated the channel. Duran Duran shot videos in Sri Lanka and Antigua as though they were James Bond villains with day jobs as bass players. Culture Club were everywhere, Boy George a living provocation in every American living room. Video premieres became global events: Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, Madonna’s wedding-dress debut, Van Halen’s somersaulting performance; these weren’t mere promotions but full-on pop-cultural detonations.

This year marked the first MTV Video Music Awards, where Madonna’s performance set a new gold standard for on-stage provocation. Simultaneously, artists began leveraging the medium with visual creativity, from Peter Gabriel’s stop-motion innovation to Duran Duran’s cinematic opulence to Queen’s “Radio Ga Ga” sci-fi homage, cementing the idea that what you saw mattered as much as what you heard.

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

No year better demonstrates the unassailable rise of the machine age than 1984’s synth-pop blitz. A host of bands weaponised analogue and digital synths to create crystalline, dystopian, intoxicatingly danceable sonic universes.

In a year of excess, Bronski Beat brought quiet defiance. “Smalltown Boy” was a synth-pop elegy for queer youth, a tale of rejection and escape that resonated far beyond the dancefloor. Jimmy Somerville’s falsetto was haunting, and the track’s minimalist production gave it a stark, emotional power.

In retrospect, the headline story of 1984 is perhaps the triumph of technology. Affordable synthesizers, MIDI sequencers, and drum machines were now accessible enough for the bedroom artist, sparking revolutionary changes. These machines enabled everything from Eurythmics’ cool “Here Comes the Rain Again” to the icy rumble of Depeche Mode (“People Are People”) and the fluorescent pop of Howard Jones.

The rise of remix culture and the club “12-inch” single further blurred boundaries. DJs and producers like Arthur Baker and Trevor Horn became star-makers, their studio wizardry every bit as crucial as the artists themselves. The era’s emergent dance-pop informed the nascent house and techno movements brewing quietly in cities like Chicago and Detroit.

Synth-pop’s influence would soon ricochet across the globe, programming a new generation’s sense of cool and defining the default language of every pop song for years.

The underground

Beneath the glitter and gloss, the UK indie scene was thriving and fermenting.

Under the grey skies of Manchester, The Smiths conceived their eponymous debut album The Smiths, spawning “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” and “This Charming Man.” These songs, all jangle and longing, offered frank reflections on sexuality, class, and loneliness, sketching new territory for British youth culture.

The gladioli-waving Morrissey’s poetic miserabilism and Johnny Marr’s gilded guitar arpeggios became a counterweight to synthetic gloss and stadium pomp that dominated both sides of the Atlantic.

They would become the indie archetype, their wit and emotional candour a template for the alternative scene to come.

Echo & the Bunnymen also reached their peak with Ocean Rain, touted by the band themselves as “the greatest album ever made.” It wasn’t, but “The Killing Moon” was arguably the most cinematic song of the year and earned its place in eternity.

Meanwhile, goth was no longer just a Bauhaus hobby; The Cure released The Top, a swirling, surreal affair—part goth, part glam, part acid trip. Tracks like “Shake Dog Shake” and “Birdmad Girl” were experimental, erratic, and oddly beautiful. Robert Smith’s hair alone possibly merited a record deal.

With Robert Smith briefly on guitar, Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Hyæna was a fever dream of tribal rhythms and gothic grandeur. “Dazzle” was orchestral punk, and “Swimming Horses” was haunting and hypnotic. Siouxsie Sioux was still the queen of the dark.

Elsewhere, New Order consolidated their post-Joy Division identity with Power, Corruption & Lies still echoing from ’83 and the 12-inch mega-single “Thieves Like Us.”

This was the underground in its chrysalis phase, ready to hatch into the Britpop and alt scenes of the ‘90s.

The American underground: black clothes, fast guitars

While MTV beamed gloss, the US underground kept things raw.

Metallica were coming up fast with Ride the Lightning, which was thrash metal’s graduation ceremony. Faster, heavier, and more ambitious than their debut, it set them on a path to dominate metal for decades. Thrash was becoming serious business: Slayer’s “Haunting the Chapel” EP and Anthrax’s “Fistful of Metal” also arrived, while Megadeth formed after Dave Mustaine’s acrimonious exit from Metallica. If you wanted speed, 1984 had more riffs than Tony Iommi’s back catalogue.

Meanwhile, hardcore punk was mutating, Hüsker Dü’s double concept album Zen Arcade stretched hardcore into sprawling psychedelic territory.

The Minutemen’s Double Nickels on the Dime fused punk, funk, and jazz into a defiantly anti-commercial double album that critics adored, even if nobody outside of college radio bought it.

Down in Athens, Georgia, college rock was taking shape as its shy architects R.E.M. released their sophomore LP Reckoning in April and continued to tour relentlessly on the strength of Murmur, maintaining their slow build from cult band to future stadium titans. Michael Stipe still mumbled, Peter Buck still jangled, and the college kids still swooned. In a year obsessed with spectacle, R.E.M. made understatement magnetic.

Elsewhere, industrial pioneers like Einstürzende Neubauten and Cabaret Voltaire flirted with abrasive electronics, laying the groundwork for subgenres that would flourish over the next decade.

The seeds of alt-rock, grunge, and modern indie were being sown here.

Rock, rock ‘til you drop – stadiums, stardom & sleaze

If pop in 1984 was all neon gloves and MTV choreography, then heavy rock was the sound of tens of thousands of pairs of denim legs marching into football stadiums, air guitars raised. The early ’80s New Wave of British Heavy Metal had broken the ground, but by ’84 the scene had gone truly international. Stadium gigs became the default unit of measurement: Iron Maiden were headlining the World Slavery Tour, Judas Priest had turbocharged their leather, Queen were serving up singalong bombast, and in the US, Van Halen and AC/DC were shifting enough tickets to make baseball managers nervous.

Metal was the year’s iron fist. 1984 was a pivotal year for heavy music that saw metal’s ascension to commercial power. MTV’s “Headbangers Ball” and Kerrang! magazine championed the genre, amplifying the sense of community among fans and spawning a fashion and lifestyle phenomenon.

Iron Maiden went full pharaoh delivering a masterclass in metal grandeur with Powerslave, a concept album wrapped in Egyptian iconography and galloping riffs. “Aces High” and “2 Minutes to Midnight” were war cries, and the title track was a doom-laden epic. The accompanying World Slavery Tour was one of the most ambitious in metal history, pushing the envelope for rock spectacle.

Maiden’s British brothers in arms Judas Priest’s Defenders of the Faith also supplied another bulletproof distillation of classic British metal: speed, melodrama, and a dash of sci-fi fantasy.

Stateside, W.A.S.P., Twisted Sister and Ratt’s polished sleaze captured Sunset Strip excess and broadened metal’s reach without sacrificing its attitude.

There be monsters

1984 was the breakout year for hair metal’s main protagonists Motely Crue, who made headlines despite not headlining the bill at the UK’s preeminent metal event: Monsters of Rock at Castle Donington, 18 August 1984. A legendary event that I attended. It was a one-day riot featuring a line-up so stacked it could have caused structural damage.

Shock & awe
The fifth Monsters of Rock festival was a powder keg of denim, leather, and testosterone and it was Motley Crüe who lit the fuse.

The weather was the usual British festival cocktail: equal parts mud, dust, and rain, stirred with a warm can of lager. The piss bottles were flying, and the event was already shaping up to be one for the ages. By noon, over 60,000 metalheads had gathered, and the first sacrificial lambs to the altar of volume were none other than Los Angeles’ most notorious export, making their UK debut.

Onstage, it was chaos in stereo: part gig, part demolition derby. Motley Crüe arrived at Donington like a gang of glam-drenched Visigoths, armed with Marshall stacks, eyeliner, and a pathological disregard for British decorum.

If you were still queueing for your bacon bap when they hit the stage about 30 minutes earlier than advertised, you missed the most gloriously vulgar opening set in Monsters of Rock history.

Motley Crüe’s set was a 45-minute blitzkrieg of sleaze, speed, and sonic assault. Vince Neil shrieked his way through “Looks That Kill” like a peroxide banshee. Nikki Sixx stalked the stage like a glam-punk Nosferatu, bass slung low, eyeliner thicker than the Midlands fog. Mick Mars, stoic and spectral, the band’s crypt keeper with an electric axe, churned out riffs colder than his stage presence. Tommy Lee, shirtless and grinning, twirled sticks like a caffeinated octopus and beat his kit as if it owed him money.

Highlights? “Shout at the Devil” was a war cry. “Live Wire” nearly caused a power surge. “Helter Skelter” was less Beatles, more bar fight.

But it wasn’t just the music that left a mark.

A cow’s eyeball was thrown onstage, lodging itself in Tommy Lee’s drum riser like a grotesque stage prop.

Nikki Sixx launched his bass into the crowd, striking a fan and drawing blood. The bass was then smashed and distributed like holy relics.

Vince Neil reportedly bit a security guard during a backstage scuffle. Whether it was provoked or just Vince being Vince remains unclear.

It was crude, it was chaotic, and it was utterly effective. Donington had been well and truly violated.

Vince Neil later said: “Opening the show is the hardest part of all, but we went out there and hit them before they had a chance to breathe. We gave them 125 decibels at the speed of light.”

The UK press (ever ready for moral panic) described them as “decadent, dangerous, and possibly contagious.” Which, to be fair, wasn’t far off.

Trailer trash
But the real fireworks came offstage. Accounts and timings vary (as they always do when egos, coke and Jack Daniel’s collide), but Nikki Sixx did recall some of the events in “The Dirt” the very entertaining confessional about the band. The gist, including recollections from other sources, is that at some point a shit faced Sixx walked up to Eddie Van Halen, tackled him and bit his stomach. While Ed’s wife Valerie Bertinelli berated Sixx, Vince Neil joined the fun and sank his teeth into the most prized hand in rock ‘n’ roll. One of Crue may also have bitten AC/DC’s Malcolm Young at some point. Crue’s habit of biting people was supposedly meant to be affectionate but, unless you were as stoned as them, it was painful!

David Lee Roth, who behind the party MC image was a consummate professional, took greater exception to the Crüe’s antics than if he had found a brown M&M in his dressing room and got into it with Sixx or maybe Tommy Lee; roadies intervened, and Roth stormed off muttering about “punk kids with no class.”

Either as a Van Halen or AC/DC crew prank or the promoter’s innovative idea of a way to keep Crue out of trouble, Crüe’s trailer was suspended in the air by a crane turning the dressing room into a dangling glam-metal chandelier. Some say Nikki tried to climb the crane in order to retrieve his stash.

The British rock press had a field day: Sounds gleefully labelled them “Glam Pantomime Demons,” while Kerrang! said they were “the filthiest thing to hit Donington since the toilets overflowed in ’81.”

Meanwhile, back in the arena
Accept
Germany’s steelworkers opened with Teutonic efficiency. Udo Dirkschneider, small but ferocious, barked through “Fast as a Shark” and “Balls to the Wall” like he was leading an army.

Gary Moore & Y&T
Gary Moore was still the guitar hero’s guitar hero, mixing virtuosity with raw blues-metal firepower. Y&T brought California sunshine riffs to the Midlands, though half the crowd seemed more interested in the next beer run.

Ozzy Osbourne
The Prince of Darkness pulled no punches. He screamed, sweated, and pointed endlessly at the crowd (“I can’t hear you!” etc.), but his band, with Jake E. Lee on guitar, kept things tight and heavy. No bats, no doves, but plenty of snarling Sabbath classics.

Van Halen
The band swaggered on like Californian aliens dropped in rural England. Eddie’s grin and fretboard gymnastics made guitarists in the crowd reconsider their life choices. Diamond Dave was equal parts showman and circus ringmaster. His banter may have been indecipherable to half the crowd, but when “Jump” hit, Donington actually bounced. They didn’t quite do what they had done to Sabbath six years previously and blow the headliners away, but they may have snuck off with the show in the back pocket of their parachute pants.

AC/DC
By this point, Brian Johnson had fully inherited Bon Scott’s mantle, and Back in Black plus Flick of the Switch had given them more riffs than most bands manage in a lifetime. During “For Those About to Rock”, they rolled out the cannons, which were so loud that half of Derbyshire thought WW III had broken out.


Perfect Steet Rangers

Tina Turner was not the only impressive comeback in 1984. At that point, the idea of Deep Purple reforming their “classic” MK II lineup (Gillan, Blackmore, Lord, Glover, Paice) seemed about as likely as Keith Richards making it to his 80’s. Yet somehow the egos aligned, the lawyers got paid, and the result was Perfect Strangers their first studio record together since 1973’s Who Do We Think We Are.

The album was a lean, surprisingly modern hard rock record for a bunch of blokes who had spent the preceding decade falling out with each other. Ritchie Blackmore’s riffs are granite-hard, Jon Lord’s Hammond is gloriously up front, and while Ian Gillan’s voice had lost a touch of the shriek it had gained some grit.

  • Knocking at Your Back Door – Seven minutes of slow-burn swagger. Lyrically saucy enough to make Mary Whitehouse choke on her Horlicks, musically it’s proof Blackmore could still write riffs sharp enough to take an eye out.
  • Under the Gun – Built on driving guitar and stabbing organ. Paice and Glover lock it down tight. Blackmore shoots from the hip.
  • Nobody’s Home – Classic Gillan snark meets vintage Purple riffage. Feels like it could have slotted into Machine Head without too many questions asked.
  • Perfect Strangers – The laser lit crown jewel. Dark, brooding, almost mystical, with Blackmore weaving riffs like a medieval wizard in a foul mood. One of the great reunion tracks in rock history and one that follows in Led Zeppelin’s footprints to Kashmir.
  • A Gypsy’s Kiss – Up-tempo, playful, and a reminder that Purple could still boogie when they fancied.
  • Wasted Sunsets – The ballad moment, with Gillan sounding world-weary and Blackmore wringing genuine emotion out of his Strat.
  • Hungry Daze – A nod to their past, lyrically referencing old glories, musically leaning on Blackmore’s string quartet riff.
Nothing revolutionary but it proved the reunion was not just a nostalgia trip. It was a solid, heavy, and often inspired album that showed Purple could still cut it in the same decade as Van Halen, Priest, and Maiden.

Grace under pressure

Rush didn’t just survive the ’80s, they reinvented themselves multiple times within the decade. Grace Under Pressure sits right in the middle of a trilogy of very different albums, each with its own flavour, that sees synthesizers progressively taking the lead role.

With Grace Under Pressure, they steered even harder into the technology and paranoia of the decade: synths everywhere, lyrics about nuclear dread and alienation, and Alex Lifeson’s guitar having to fight for elbow room against Geddy Lee’s Oberheim arsenal. The album sounds like it was recorded in a bunker lit by flickering fluorescent tubes.

Rush leaned fully into the 1984 aesthetic to produce a sound that was all icy synths, gated reverb, sharp production (courtesy of Peter Henderson with the band). It could have dated badly, but somehow still works because beneath the keyboards are three guys still playing like their lives depend on it. Peart is on ferocious form: precise, inventive, and constantly surprising.

Grace Under Pressure isn’t the friendliest Rush album, but it is one of their most compelling. It captures the paranoia and techno-fear of the era while still delivering choruses, riffs, and musicianship nobody else could touch.

  • Distant Early Warning – The opener, and the hit single (well, as much as Rush ever had “hits”). Big synth chords, big chorus, big Cold War anxiety. Alex serves up one of his most angular, metallic solos — like he’s trying to cut through the digital fog.
  • Afterimage – A tribute to a lost friend, with frantic urgency undercut by real tenderness. The chorus soars. Lifeson’s solo is almost elegiac. Proof Rush could be emotional without getting soppy.
  • Red Sector A – Chilling, futuristic, and — once you realise it is inspired by Geddy’s mother’s Holocaust experiences — devastating. Stark synths, mechanical pulse, and Geddy spitting lines with icy intensity.
  • The Enemy Within – Part of the “Fear” series but now dressed in reggae-tinged new wave clothing. Think The Police with more paranoia. Neil Peart grooves like a man who has been secretly playing along to Talking Heads records.
  • The Body Electric – Lyrics about a robot demanding freedom (“One zero zero one, zero zero one”) that would make Kraftwerk proud, except Rush actually rock it out. A cult fan favourite.
  • Kid Gloves – The most “old Rush” moment: punchy riffing, sarcastic lyrics about growing up, and a Lifeson solo that is pure joy.
  • Red Lenses – The weird one. Funky, almost jazzy bassline, quirky wordplay, synths doing somersaults. Half the fanbase loves it; the other half skips it. At least Neil’s drumming is bonkers good.
  • Between the Wheels – Closes the album in full apocalyptic grandeur. Haunting keys, dramatic dynamics, and Geddy belting lines about history grinding humanity down. A real spine-tingler.
Charity, cheese, and charts

1984’s charts were an eclectic dish topped with nacho cheese.

Stevie Wonder phoned it in with I Just Called to Say I Love You claiming multiple #1’s and winning an Oscar while testing the patience of everyone else with a song so bland it could soundtrack an elevator ride.

In the US, Lionel Richie dominated with Hello (and that creepy blind-sculptor video, including a bust that looked like a rejected GCSE art project), while Chicago scored with Hard Habit to Break.

Phil Collins, busy juggling solo hits and Genesis duties, gave us Against All Odds, a ballad so powerful it could make granite weep.

And then there was Yes, an old prog warhorse that somehow reinvented itself with Owner of a Lonely Heart, a surprise US #1 hit so slick and unexpected it made Trevor Horn a production deity.

Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? capped off the year with a charity single that basically invented the pop-star-as-saviour genre. Bob Geldof and Midge Ure rallied the UK’s pop royalty and recorded it in one caffeine-and-tea-fuelled day. It united everyone from Bono to Bananarama, put famine relief on the agenda, and raised a mountain of cash. It also set up 1985’s Live Aid, but we’ll get there when we get there.
 
1984 - PART 2
The final chapter Conclusion: Immortal riffs, unending echoes

Looking back 1984 was not Orwell’s nightmare; so why does it loom so large in pop’s rear-view mirror? Surely it is more than just nostalgia. Artists were not merely responding to the zeitgeist - they were making it. Musicians addressed AIDS, unemployment, the arms race, and the evolving language of gender and race. The omnipresence of MTV meant that image and sound merged into a pop culture ecosystem, exposing global audiences to everything from British new romanticism to American blue-collar grit.

The continuing rise of synthesizers and digital recording democratised music-making, and chaperoned in a golden age for pop, when melody, image, and attitude collided in a glittering, era-defining spectacle.

The impact is felt in every contemporary genre: alternative rock’s introspection, hip hop’s DIY aesthetic, electronic dance music’s machine power, and pop’s chameleonic spectacle all have roots in the raucous alchemy of 1984. The idea that an album could be a manifesto, a tour a crusade, and a single a call to arms traces a direct line back to this year.

It is a peculiar magic trick of 1984 that even as its sound has been endlessly referenced and imitated, its central energy of restlessness, creativity and cultural fusion remains stubbornly fresh. Prince’s purple lightning. Madonna’s unbreakable glamour. Springsteen’s battered optimism. Metal’s ironclad resilience. Every synth riff, every torn denim vest, every neon explosion on MTV was not simply the soundtrack of a year, but the unfolding of an era.

Orwell predicted a bleak, uniform world. What we got instead was a shimmering neon bright shoulder-padded kaleidoscope of sound.

This was a year when stadium rockers, pop idols, indie dreamers, and metal maniacs all fought for the same space on your mixtape. And somehow, improbably, they all belonged.

Which brings us to the “modern’ mixtape equivalent, the Spotify playlist:

We open with a 2-4-1 from Van Halen: 1984 / Jump.

By January ’84, Van Halen had gone from Sunset Strip party kings to stadium dominators. And then came the one-two punch that redefined them: a synth intro that made guitar purists spit out their Budweiser, followed by a pop-metal anthem so irresistible it went to # 1 in the US.

1984 is a brief spacey wash of Oberheim synths providing an overture that sounds like Blade Runner after too many Jäger shots.

Jump begins with a joyous brass-like synth riff that is one of the most recognisable openings of the ’80s. Bold, effervescent, and utterly triumphant. Underneath, Alex Van Halen hammers out a pounding beat, Michael Anthony provides trademark backing vocals, and Eddie sneaks in one of his most fluid guitar solos, reminding everyone he was still the king of six strings.

The words are David Lee Roth personified, part motivational speaker, part barroom flirt. “Go ahead and jump!” is both a rallying cry and a pick-up line, delivered with that trademark Roth smirk.

It mashed pop sensibility with rock energy. MTV loved it, radio loved it, teenage America loved it. Purist guitar heads grumbled, but their little sisters bought the single in droves.

Me, I love it like few other tracks. It is one of two tracks from the year that I included in top five favourite songs when BlueHammer85 ran a poll, which really means that there is no song I like more. If this doesn’t put a smile on your face, Daryl Dixon probably lopped off your head.

The Cars: Magic

The Cars are a band that I never saw live but I was a big fan by 1984 and bought the album that conjured up this slice of power pop perfection upon release. Recorded by uber producer Mutt Lange, “Heartbeat City” was their most commercial album, stuffed with singles, and Magic was the track that married Ric Ocasek’s deadpan cool with a strutting summer groove.

From the opening keyboard shimmer, “Magic” announces itself as glossy, but not hollow, ’80s pop-rock. Greg Hawkes’ synths sparkle, Elliot Easton’s guitar sneaks in tasteful riffs, and David Robinson’s drums lock into that big, reverb-heavy groove that practically defined mid-’80s radio.

The chorus “Oh oh it’s magic, when I’m with you…” is pure earworm, layered with harmonies that make it sound huge without losing The Cars’ wry detachment. It has been a summer mixtape / cd / playlist favourite of mine for forty years.

Steve Perry: Oh Sherrie

When Journey’s golden-voiced frontman decided to step out on his own in 1984, the result was Oh Sherrie, a power ballad so big it could have floated a Zeppelin. Dedicated to his then-girlfriend Sherrie Swafford, it became Perry’s calling card outside of Journey and a textbook example of mid-’80s FM-radio drama.

From the first drum thwack and synth swell, you know you are in Big ’80s Ballad territory. Perry’s voice, one of the purest, most soaring instruments in rock, glides over glossy keyboards and chiming guitars. The chorus is built for maximum uplift; the kind of hook that can take a simple love song and make it sound like the fate of the universe hangs in the balance. The lyrics are direct, heartfelt, and utterly unambiguous: Perry ain’t hiding behind metaphor. It is love, pure and simple, shouted from the mountaintop with a microphone and probably a wind machine. In a decade of ironic detachment, “Oh Sherrie” stands out for its sincerity.

It hit # 3 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and remains Perry’s defining solo moment.

Ratt: Round and Round

In 1984, Los Angeles was exporting a very specific cultural package: big riffs, bigger hair, trousers too tight to sit down in, and choruses built for MTV. At the heart of it was Ratt, and their breakout single from the album Out of the Cellar. This was the song that blasted them from Sunset Strip club rats into arena headliners.

The song opens with Warren DeMartini’s slick killer riff, metallic but catchy, and from there the song struts like a peacock in spandex kex. The rhythm is sharp, Stephen Pearcy’s vocals are sneering but melodic, and the chorus is a monster: simple, circular (fitting the title), and designed to lodge in your skull.

Beneath the glam, there’s serious musicality. Ratt were not just posers, they had chops, and Round and Round proves it.

“Round and Round” hit No. 12 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 4 on the rock charts, making Ratt one of the first glam-metal bands to break big in the US. It remains their signature tune.

Prince & The Revolution: Let’s Go Crazy

If you had to distil Prince into a single track, this astonishing iconic number would be a strong candidate. Released as the opening salvo of Purple Rain, both the film and the album, it is part sermon, part pop hooks, part dance floor funk detonation, part hard rock guitar heroics.

It opens not with a riff, but with a sermon: Prince intoning from the pulpit about “the after world - a world of never-ending happiness.” Church organ, hushed reverence, then boom the band kicks in with a frenetic, funk rock groove.

From there, it is pure controlled chaos: synths shimmering like neon; guitar stabs punctuating every line; Sheila E.’s driven drums that swing harder than Mohammed Ali’s right arm.

Prince’s vocal is half preacher, half rock god, all charisma, sweeter than molasses; and his outro guitar solo is a fuzzed-out, Hendrix-channelling shred that made every rock guitarist of the era not called Eddie glance nervously at their fretboard.

No other pop song had sounded like this, and it went straight to #1 in the US.

Deep Purple: Perfect Strangers

Nothing to add really to the brief review above, other than this is probably my second favourite Purple track.

Bryan Adams: Run to You

The first single from his blockbuster album Reckless, it set the tone for the Canadian rocker’s rise from opening act to stadium headliner. Gritty, hooky, and just a little bit naughty.

It is a song about cheating and not one with an ounce of contrition. In the MTV era, though, the melody was so strong that most casual listeners just heard a passionate love song and ignored the moral compass.

The intro riff, a sharp chiming guitar figure, is instantly recognisable and perfect for radio. Keith Scott’s guitar lines are lean, melodic, and classy: he is Adams’ secret weapon. The rhythm section drives the song along and the chorus is a stadium sized singalong.

Bruce Springsteen: Born in the USA

My favourite Springsteen track, and it is the one that he never bloody well seems to play at gigs I go to e.g. last year he played it the following evening at Wembley.

Few songs in rock history have been as misunderstood, misused, and mythologised as Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA: it became an anthem shouted in stadiums, blasted at rallies, and stapled onto every Fourth of July playlist, often by people who never listened closely to the verses. But at its core, it is one of the darkest, angriest songs of Springsteen’s career, dressed up in a fist-pumping, synthesizer drenched package.

“Born in the USA” is not a flag-waving anthem: it is a protest song wearing the clothes of a pop hit. Its brilliance lies in that contradiction. It forced America to dance and cheer along to a story of disillusionment, reminding us that patriotism is not blind celebration; it is holding your country accountable when it falls short. You do not have to be sceptic tank to relate to its intention or be moved by it.

Yes: Owner of a Lonely Heart

By the early ’80s, progressive rock was supposed to be dead. Lengthy epics, concept albums, and virtuoso noodling had alienated radio. But Yes, a flag-bearer of symphonic prog, did the impossible with Owner of a Lonely Heart by creating a song that sounded futuristic, aggressive, and hooky, all at once. Released late in 1983 on 90125, it became a defining track of 1984.

From Trevor Rabin’s the first chopped metallic guitar hit it is immediately obvious this isn’t a journey through a Topographic Ocean. The riff is mechanical, funky, and impossible to ignore, Chris Squire’s bass snaps like a whip, Alan White’s drums are tight and precise, and Jon Anderson’s voice soars above it all like a golden thread.

The production by Trevor Horn adds a dazzling ’80s gloss: gated reverb, sampled sounds, sudden stops, and studio tricks that make the song feel both synthetic and alive. There’s even a horn-like synth stab mid-track that gives it an almost funk-disco punch. This is what a kitchen sink sounded like in the mid ‘80’s.

Yes managed to retain their progressive sensibility (odd chord changes, subtle time shifts) while packaging it as a radio-friendly monster that became their only US #1 single. It helped revive their career, introducing the band to a whole new generation.

In a year of comebacks and reinventions, this track was perhaps the most stunning example.

Finally (well for now), we come to the other song that I put in my top 5, in fact, I placed it as my favourite ever song, although only by tossing a coin to decide whether to put it or “Kashmir” first. I do think it is the perfect 1980’s track.

Don Henley: The Boys of Summer

Released in October 1984 as the lead single from Building the Perfect Beast, The Boys of Summer instantly marked Don Henley not just as the Eagles’ frontman, but as a solo artist capable of creating something timeless, moody, and hauntingly evocative. It is a song that feels like driving along a sun-drenched coastal highway with one hand on the wheel and a lifetime of memory in the other, simultaneously nostalgic, melancholy, and cinematic – the distillation of a hundred teen movies.

Producer Jimmy Iovine and Henley crafted a sound that balances organic instrumentation with the modern studio technology of the era, giving it a timeless texture.

Heartbreaker and co-writer Mike Campbell’s shimmering, echoing riff sets the tone: ethereal, spacious, and instantly recognisable. Synths, drum machines, and the light snap of electronic percussion give the track an ’80s sheen without ever sounding cheesy.

Henley’s Vocals are dry, reflective, emotionally restrained yet aching, the perfect counterpoint to the glistening instrumentation. He isn’t screaming, he’s observing; haunted by memory.

The ironic line “Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac” is one of my favourite lyrics and was based on something Henley did witness.

“The Boys of Summer” is a meditation on youth, love lost, and the inexorable march of time. Unlike most pop hits, the song is subtle, introspective, and tinged with regret. It is a track that rewards repeated listening, the more you hear it, the more you feel it.

So that is my opening offer. Let’s see what you want to add.

 
Great, detailed write-ups as ever @OB1. In fact, I've got nothing to add to the playlist because the four I had written down are all in your initial list!

"Born in the USA" is a colossal song. As you point out, a misunderstood anthem. It actually takes it's name from a Paul Schrader screenplay (that was eventually made as Light of Day for which Bruce provided the title track). It's also telling that around the time he was mulling over songs for the Nebraska album, he met with Ron Kovic, whose memoir was eventually translated to screen by Oliver Stone in Born on the Fourth of July. Surely this influenced his writing on "Born in the USA". The album is in my top 20 all-time favourites and was one that I bought in my first year of getting into music in 1986. In fact one of the few that I bought on vinyl and instantly duplicated on CD just a few months later.
Around this time, Springsteen wrote a number of Vietnam-inspired songs, including "Shut Out The Light" that was a B-side and eventually appeared on Tracks.

There's a scene in the Deliver Me From Nowhere film where Bruce is in the studio belting out "Born in the USA" and it's brilliant. The song is so good that it's equally brilliant in it's initial demo version that appeared on Tracks and also the version recorded as a trio that appears on the recent Nebraska '82 album.

It's incredible tome how many great songs he wrote in the 1977-1984 period, many of which we now have thanks to Tracks I and II, and the Darkness and The River box sets. Whilst most of the time he makes the right choices on what to cut (although I still can't believe that he left "Roulette" off The River, and that furthermore nobody managed to talk him out of it), I don't think any artist has come close to this productivity, certainly since The Beatles.

As for "Jump" by Van Halen, somebody on here made a comment about my aversion to synths or something like that. Well here is exhibit A in the case for the defence - I love synths when used in the right way, and Eddie Van Halen's riff on this song knocks everything that came before into a cocked hat. This versus any of that wishy-washy early 80s stuff is like night and day.

It was a toss up between "Summer of '69" and "Run To You" from Bryan Adams' Reckless, and I also love "Boys of Summer" by Don Henley.

Great choices for what, as you say, is a pivotal year.
 
RobMCFC said:
Great, detailed write-ups as ever @OB1. In fact, I've got nothing to add to the playlist because the four I had written down are all in your initial list!

"Born in the USA" is a colossal song. As you point out, a misunderstood anthem. It actually takes it's name from a Paul Schrader screenplay (that was eventually made as Light of Day for which Bruce provided the title track). It's also telling that around the time he was mulling over songs for the Nebraska album, he met with Ron Kovic, whose memoir was eventually translated to screen by Oliver Stone in Born on the Fourth of July. Surely this influenced his writing on "Born in the USA". The album is in my top 20 all-time favourites and was one that I bought in my first year of getting into music in 1986. In fact one of the few that I bought on vinyl and instantly duplicated on CD just a few months later.
Around this time, Springsteen wrote a number of Vietnam-inspired songs, including "Shut Out The Light" that was a B-side and eventually appeared on Tracks.

There's a scene in the Deliver Me From Nowhere film where Bruce is in the studio belting out "Born in the USA" and it's brilliant. The song is so good that it's equally brilliant in it's initial demo version that appeared on Tracks and also the version recorded as a trio that appears on the recent Nebraska '82 album.

It's incredible tome how many great songs he wrote in the 1977-1984 period, many of which we now have thanks to Tracks I and II, and the Darkness and The River box sets. Whilst most of the time he makes the right choices on what to cut (although I still can't believe that he left "Roulette" off The River, and that furthermore nobody managed to talk him out of it), I don't think any artist has come close to this productivity, certainly since The Beatles.

As for "Jump" by Van Halen, somebody on here made a comment about my aversion to synths or something like that. Well here is exhibit A in the case for the defence - I love synths when used in the right way, and Eddie Van Halen's riff on this song knocks everything that came before into a cocked hat. This versus any of that wishy-washy early 80s stuff is like night and day.

It was a toss up between "Summer of '69" and "Run To You" from Bryan Adams' Reckless, and I also love "Boys of Summer" by Don Henley.

Great choices for what, as you say, is a pivotal year.
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Thanks.

I do think you should pick some songs for the playlist but if you don't, I'll transfer your quota to me :-)

I agree about Bruce, no one has matched such levels of productivity and quality.

I have not bought his big release of old stuff from earlier this year because I think it is massively overpriced and I really only use Spotify for Blue Moon related purposes (more fool me blah, blah). I do have the Nebraska box set though and played the first disc on my way to MCR last weekend. There's 3 tracks that ended up on Born In The USA in different (pumped up) form, and it is a testament to the quality of the songs, and his band, that they work well stripped down or with added E-Street.
 
OB1 said:
Thanks.

I do think you should pick some songs for the playlist but if you don't, I'll transfer your quota to me :-)

I agree about Bruce, no one has matched such levels of productivity and quality.

I have not bought his big release of old stuff from earlier this year because I think it is massively overpriced and I really only use Spotify for Blue Moon related purposes (more fool me blah, blah). I do have the Nebraska box set though and played the first disc on my way to MCR last weekend. There's 3 tracks that ended up on Born In The USA in different (pumped up) form, and it is a testament to the quality of the songs, and his band, that they work well stripped down or with added E-Street.
Click to expand...
I haven't bought any of his big boxsets for a few years now. Like you said, some of them are expensive and I can listen on Spotify anyway.

The recent Nebraska release is an interesting listen. Some good outtakes that I'm not familiar with on the first disc, and some of the versions on the electric disc are very good, although "Johnny 99" is a bit too honky-tonk for me.
 
I was at '84 and I think you're ears must have been blocked. Motley were dire. Early for sure but it wasn't too early for piss bombs. VH were also slightly off it. Y&T plus Moore were great. As you said, didn't you, AC/DC blew them all away. Hot day.
 
BimboBob said:
I was at '84 and I think you're ears must have been blocked. Motley were dire. Early for sure but it wasn't too early for piss bombs. VH were also slightly off it. Y&T plus Moore were great. As you said, didn't you, AC/DC blew them all away. Hot day.
Click to expand...

I had to refer to reviews from the time. We weren't close to the stage for Crue and the sound wasn't great. We did go down to the front for VH but I don't remember much apart from enjoying it; although it wasn't as good as seeing them indoors. There is some video on them out there but I've not watched much of it.

Saw Crue much more recently at Download (last time I went) and they were brilliant but best show I saw by them was at the Hammersmith Odeon / Apollo.
 
OB1 said:
I had to refer to reviews from the time. We weren't close to the stage for Crue and the sound wasn't great. We did go down to the front for VH but I don't remember much apart from enjoying it; although it wasn't as good as seeing them indoors. There is some video on them out there but I've not watched much of it.

Saw Crue much more recently at Download (last time I went) and they were brilliant but best show I saw by them was at the Hammersmith Odeon / Apollo.
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EVH did a lot of solos. Nearly every song, pissed a lot of people off around us.
 
BimboBob said:
EVH did a lot of solos. Nearly every song, pissed a lot of people off around us.
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Can't recall the specifics but in my expereince, most of his solos were short, aside from his solo set piece. Anyway, people that go to see VH were usually there in some part to see Eddie solo, it was expected. I mean, he was one of the greatest guitar players; I have never seen anyone better. I assume the people around you didn't go to the first MoR @ Donnington: you didn't go to see Rainbow unless you liked a guitar solo.
 
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