I Hate Your 80s
While I was editing this year's 100 Bands You Need To Know issue, I noticed that the terms "Eighties-sounding" and "Eighties-influenced" came up more times than the reflux I felt the first time I heard Brokencyde. Why in the hell do we romanticize this decade, anyway? Closing the last episode of The Sopranos with a Journey song? Escape The Fate getting fashion tips from old issues of Circus magazine with Motley Crue pictorials? Dudes in cookie-cutter pop-punk bands jacking the price of analog synthesizers up on eBay for the sole purpose of trying to sound like Gary Numan but ending up like, I don't know, OXO? Neon-colored clothing? Blonde girls dying their ends black? You people really grip my shit.
Now that I've stuffed your parents' nostalgia into an InSinkerrator and hit the switch marked "liquefy," let me tell you: I loved the Eighties! I had hot girlfriends, a 32-inch waist and at least one asymetrical double-breasted suit that could've gotten me a gig in a Duran Duran tribute band. I still violently hated all the stuff Americans hold dear (hair-farmer metal, designer jeans, stadium rock, mood rings, Members Only jackets, slap bracelets, full-length denim coats). Sure, we were all concerned that President Reagan was going to press the nuclear defense switch on the former Soviet Union, but if you were rocking Black Flag, Fear, Circle Jerks, Flipper or TSOL back then, you didn't care if the planet was about to be immolated (especially if it meant that you didn't have to hear meatheads go on about how awesome a guitar player one of those hair-metal diaper-drinkers were or hear dimbulb girls talk about how cute Richard Marx was). (I hate THAT dude so much, I refuse to hyperlink his pasty mousse-abuse ass.)
You know what nostalgia I want to ride on? The less obvious. One of the greatest post-punk/alt-rock bands in the history of British rock, Magazine, reformed for a handful of shows over Valentine's Day weekend. Let's see someone try to match the twisted lyricism of frontman Howard Devoto, while making a similarly inspired racket. Speaking of real racket, how come no young whippersnapper with physical stamina and protective headphones has stepped up to throwdown like Einsturnzende Neubauten, the real industrial outfit who were trashing theaters long before Street Drum Corps' moms were getting busy with their future dads? People love the funk, but how come only an inspired crate-digger knows about Rip Rig And Panic, the wondrous punk/funk/free jazz/swing outfit that STILL sound 20 years ahead of everybody else?
Now unlike most people eligible for the 4 pm dinner specials at Bob Evans, there's no way I'm going to preach, "Sorry, kids. It was better before you were born." Because a) Each generation needs to make its own culture, b) that argument implies that the old-schoolers have given up looking for inspiring music in order to pursue their golf game and c) most of those old-timers weren't hip to a third of the stuff that was happening then in the first place. With the internet, several lifetimes of musical experiences are at people's fingertips. But you have to WANT to go there in the first place, and not just stay stuck looking for, I don't know, Dire Straits downloads (although"Badges, Posters, Stickers And T-Shirts" is still a pretty cool song eons after the fact.)
Inevitably, some nostalgia blunts today's so-called "cutting edge." (I still prefer Kill Em All to Death Magnetic). But everybody--musicians and fans--has an obligation to move things along. Which is why I love crazy bastards like the Locust more than I love the Sex Pistols. It was neck-in-neck for awhile, until I read that guitarist Steve Jones told a British rock mag that he loved Boston's "More Than A Feeling." Somehow, being labeled a "punk-rock faggot" back then seems so quaint. (Thanks for having my back, Steve.)Still, I can only imagine what's going to end up on VH1's inevitable I Love The 10's. Funny hair, neon clothes, Metro Station...
Wait: Isn't this where I came in?
Now that I've stuffed your parents' nostalgia into an InSinkerrator and hit the switch marked "liquefy," let me tell you: I loved the Eighties! I had hot girlfriends, a 32-inch waist and at least one asymetrical double-breasted suit that could've gotten me a gig in a Duran Duran tribute band. I still violently hated all the stuff Americans hold dear (hair-farmer metal, designer jeans, stadium rock, mood rings, Members Only jackets, slap bracelets, full-length denim coats). Sure, we were all concerned that President Reagan was going to press the nuclear defense switch on the former Soviet Union, but if you were rocking Black Flag, Fear, Circle Jerks, Flipper or TSOL back then, you didn't care if the planet was about to be immolated (especially if it meant that you didn't have to hear meatheads go on about how awesome a guitar player one of those hair-metal diaper-drinkers were or hear dimbulb girls talk about how cute Richard Marx was). (I hate THAT dude so much, I refuse to hyperlink his pasty mousse-abuse ass.)
You know what nostalgia I want to ride on? The less obvious. One of the greatest post-punk/alt-rock bands in the history of British rock, Magazine, reformed for a handful of shows over Valentine's Day weekend. Let's see someone try to match the twisted lyricism of frontman Howard Devoto, while making a similarly inspired racket. Speaking of real racket, how come no young whippersnapper with physical stamina and protective headphones has stepped up to throwdown like Einsturnzende Neubauten, the real industrial outfit who were trashing theaters long before Street Drum Corps' moms were getting busy with their future dads? People love the funk, but how come only an inspired crate-digger knows about Rip Rig And Panic, the wondrous punk/funk/free jazz/swing outfit that STILL sound 20 years ahead of everybody else?
Now unlike most people eligible for the 4 pm dinner specials at Bob Evans, there's no way I'm going to preach, "Sorry, kids. It was better before you were born." Because a) Each generation needs to make its own culture, b) that argument implies that the old-schoolers have given up looking for inspiring music in order to pursue their golf game and c) most of those old-timers weren't hip to a third of the stuff that was happening then in the first place. With the internet, several lifetimes of musical experiences are at people's fingertips. But you have to WANT to go there in the first place, and not just stay stuck looking for, I don't know, Dire Straits downloads (although"Badges, Posters, Stickers And T-Shirts" is still a pretty cool song eons after the fact.)
Inevitably, some nostalgia blunts today's so-called "cutting edge." (I still prefer Kill Em All to Death Magnetic). But everybody--musicians and fans--has an obligation to move things along. Which is why I love crazy bastards like the Locust more than I love the Sex Pistols. It was neck-in-neck for awhile, until I read that guitarist Steve Jones told a British rock mag that he loved Boston's "More Than A Feeling." Somehow, being labeled a "punk-rock faggot" back then seems so quaint. (Thanks for having my back, Steve.)Still, I can only imagine what's going to end up on VH1's inevitable I Love The 10's. Funny hair, neon clothes, Metro Station...
Wait: Isn't this where I came in?
5 Comments:
i had NO idea magazine reunited/was reuniting. that's amazing news. going to youtube to find clips..."shot by both sides" and "a song from under the floorboards" are so classic.
also terri nunn's hair in that berlin vid is something i've always wanted to rock. :P and i think you're the only person to think about "whirly girl" in about 20 years.
The 80s were simultaneously one of the best decades for music, and one of the worst.
I must say that Thanks to you Jason I bought a Public Image Lmt. Record the other day and love it so much more than the Sex Pistols by far. Thanks
I swear my dad had given this exact same speech before. He was more into Brian Eno-esque stuff, but he holds the same disdain for hair metal and Duran Duran.
On Brokencyde-Best Senior Prank Ever. Convincing Meat head jocks at my high school they were the next big thing and watching their gfs shun them and everyone that has a musical clue laugh at them. Ah, god bless the less musically fortunate. Oh well, when Nickelback is great I guess everything else is amazing. Still felt kinda bad for them tho.
Your 80's were very different from my 80's. Given that Duff has most of the Duran Duran discography in the original import vinyl, this is not surprising.
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