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

OB1 said:
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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Fair point although I remember being more favourable to Rainbow in the late 70's early 80's, probably because of the Deep Purple connection.
 
To counteract the amount of MOR guff that's sure to be picked for this year, although I am partial to a "Run To You" now and then once again I'll be synthing it up. Mostly.

First choice is a b-side for a single from a previous album that somehow made it onto the next offering. Running out of ideas? Nope but finding it hard to get anything down that the record company liked. Commercial is king.

Blancmange - Game Above My Head 12" Extended Version
 
The beauty of this thread is that it has almost surreptitiously encouraged me to revisit a lot of music that I bought in the late 70’s and early 80’s.
A lot of it is best left in that time period but I have been totally reinvigorated towards Foreigner.
The Vocals from Gramm have not been better imho and its pulsating rhythm is almost a go to safety net.
Foreigner -That was Yesterday.
 
OB1 said:
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.

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Brilliant @OB1 I enjoy every years write ups but (man love) yours always proper kick ass.
 
OB1 said:
1984 - PART 2
The final chapter Conclusion: Immortal riffs, unending echoes
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Amazing write up OB1; your musical experiences of 1984 are so close to mine that it feels a bit uncanny - the Force is strong!

Dancing in the Dark, When Doves Cry, Jump, Oh Sherrie; the Crüe, Ozzy and VH at Donnington, what a year!

My first choice is by a band I saw supporting Kiss that year and this was their first single, Runaway by Bon Jovi.

My second is from an album that I wore out in about a month, pomp rock at its finest! Call to the Heart by Giuffria.

John Waite's Missing You from his album No Brakes was a simple choice - I love that the opening line, 'every time I think of you', is the title of a great Babys song.

Finally, Twisted Sister released the fantastic heavy metal anthem We're Not Gonna Take It, with a hilarious MTV video featuring a parody of Douglas C. Neidermeyer, one of the characters in the great comedy, Animal House.
 
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I was full on murican by 1984 fuelled by the Redskins winning the previous years Super Bowl.They returned again only to be blitzed by the filthy Raiders.
There is a link here with the music from this year. Ace Running back John Riggins had a montage on C4 and the accompanying track really caught my ear. It is a blueprint for the sound of American at this time.
The Warrior - Scandal featuring Patti Smyth.

Although Pat Benatar’s album Tropico was not her greatest she did release a great song which was would not have sounded out of place on a Jon Anderson solo album.
We Belong - Pat Benatar.
 
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Great write up, @OB1, always an enjoyment! Your first 10 grabbed many of the bands and songs I was listening to at the time from the popular AOR artists, which allows me the ability to zag to your zig...

Did you never call? I waited for your call
These rivers of suggestion are driving me away

True confession here - I wasn't that big of a fan of R.E.M.'s "Radio Free Europe" from their first album. I would go back over the years and enjoy Murmur on the whole, but the single when released just never did it for me.

However, that would change for their 2nd album released in 1984. By then, the band was fatigued from touring in support of Murmur, and Peter Buck wrote the music for this song in sunny L.A. while trying to reach his parents back in Georgia during a bad storm.

This song was recorded in Charlotte down the road from me and the video was also done in that studio. Back during the recording of Reckoning, the band was getting lots of pressure from I.R.S. Records to try making the album more commercial. Producers Don Dixon and Mitch Easter told the band that they were ignoring messages from the label. Buck said he was grateful that the producers acted as a buffer between the band and its label and said that "it got to the point where as much as I respected the guys at I.R.S., we basically tried to record the records so they wouldn't know we were recording them!". Buck explained that part of the reason why R.E.M. recorded this album so quickly was that the group wanted to finish before representatives from I.R.S. showed up to listen to it.

Here's the first song I heard from this band as it was released which I enjoyed and prompted me to go back and listen to more. The sweet spot of this song and sound is the backing vocal harmonies on verse 3 and the overall playing here by bassist Mike Mills. I got to meet Mike later in the 90's when he golfed at the Jimmy V Golf Classic, and he was a very down to earth guy and very easy to relate to. Things would not be the same then or since with my opinion and enjoyment of this band with this track.

"So. Central Rain" - R.E.M.
 
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homerdog said:
Amazing write up OB1; your musical experiences of 1984 are so close to mine that it feels a bit uncanny - the Force is strong!

Dancing in the Dark, When Doves Cry, Jump, Oh Sherrie; the Crüe, Ozzy and VH at Donnington, what a year!

My first choice is by a band I saw supporting Kiss that year and this was their first single, Runaway by Bon Jovi.

My second is from an album that I wore out in about a month, pomp rock at its finest! Call to the Heart by Giuffria.

John Waite's Missing You from his album No Brakes was a simple choice - I love that the opening line, 'every time I think of you', is the title of a great Babys song.

Finally, Twisted Sister released the fantastic heavy metal anthem We're Not Gonna Take It, with a hilarious MTV video featuring a parody of Douglas C. Neidermeyer, one of the characters in the great comedy, Animal House.
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Thanks.

Nice choices. Gregg Guiffria is one of my favourite keyboard players.
 
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