‘L’Amour Toujours’ N°477 – Vintage 90s Music Videos
Baby Bird, Neil Arthur, Chynna Phillips, Dubstar, Cathy Dennis, Gin Blossoms, The Railway Children, Carleen Anderson, Lorraine Cato, Lisa Moorish, Sophie B. Hawkins, Goldbug
They are the performers of twelve vintage love songs that were ranked in various charts, this week (05/52) BUT … in the Nineties 90s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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For TWENTY FOUR more ‘L’Amour Toujours’ – Vintage 90s Music Videos – week 05/52 – click here and here
AUDIO ONLY
Tracklist
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![]() 1 . Baby Bird – Candy GirlBabybird’s 1996 single “Candy Girl” stands as a curious artifact of mid-’90s indie pop—a concoction of wry humor and breezy melodies wrapped in a playful package. Released under the Echo label, it carved its way to number 14 on the UK Official Singles Chart, a respectable achievement that hints at its appeal but stops short of suggesting universal acclaim. The track is a peculiar mix of charm and mischief. Written by Stephen Jones, Babybird’s creative core, “Candy Girl” is lyrically cheeky while sonically inviting, blending jangly rhythms with a subtly sardonic undercurrent. The song’s themes flirt with attraction and amusement, offering a wink more than a sigh, making its tone as offbeat as its video—a visual burst of surreal whimsy that mirrors the track’s colorful narrative. Yet, for all its quirks, the song remains somewhat overshadowed by its peers, neither a chart-topping anthem nor a cult classic. Absent from the official tracklist of Babybird’s album *Ugly Beautiful*, and devoid of collaborations or major accolades, it lingers as a curious footnote rather than a defining chapter of the band’s career. The project’s broader indie context and its ephemeral success on the charts are emblematic of the era’s fleeting nature. While it didn’t rewrite the rulebook, “Candy Girl” offers a snapshot of a time when clever lyrics and a catchy tune still held sway, even if only briefly. Featured on the 1996 album “Ugly Beautiful”.
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![]() 2 . Neil Arthur – I Love I Hate“I Love I Hate” channels the quintessential melancholia of ’90s synth-pop, its pulsing rhythm underpinning Neil Arthur’s emotive vocal delivery. The track oscillates between despair and defiance, reflecting a lyrical tension that mirrors conflicted relationships in stark detail. Unlike his Blancmange-era work, this solo effort leans more atmospheric, sacrificing some of the band’s playful edge for contemplative brooding. The production strikes a crisp balance between vintage synth melodies and the era’s characteristic electronic textures, evoking a moody, introspective ambiance. While the song’s structure lacks the instant grasp of a chart-topping hook, its emotional depth lingers, a quality often absent from mainstream hits of the time. The accompanying video supplements the song’s stark emotional landscape with dimly lit visuals and abstract imagery, enhancing its thematic heft without redundancy. It may not have shattered commercial ceilings, but it does leave an imprint for those willing to sit with its contradictions and quiet intensity. Featured on the 1994 album “Suitcase “.
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![]() 3 . Chynna Phillips – Naked And SacredChynna Phillips’s “Naked and Sacred” lands in the mid-’90s pop landscape, a ballad drenched in emotional vulnerability and thematic earnestness. Written alongside Billy Steinberg and Rick Nowels, the track leans heavily on a layered production style, echoing the polished aesthetics that dominated adult contemporary radio airwaves of the time. While its chart performance in Australia and the UK wasn’t groundbreaking, the song found a modest foothold in Canada, suggesting it resonated most with audiences drawn to its delicate mix of introspection and intimacy. The song’s lyrics tread familiar ground—love, trust, and the fragility of emotional connection—but the arrangement, complete with sighing harmonies and a restrained instrumental backdrop, keeps it from veering into triteness. Accompanied by a video that amplifies its heartfelt tone through soft-focus imagery and poignant glances, it cultivates an aura that’s more comforting whisper than grand declaration. The later cover by Maria Nayler adds an interesting footnote, reinterpreting it for a broader UK audience but failing to leave a significant mark on the cultural radar. While the album sold underwhelmingly in the U.S., its production credits boast an impressive roster—Glen Ballard and Desmond Child among them—but even their touch couldn’t elevate it beyond its niche appeal. Ultimately, “Naked and Sacred” feels like a snapshot of a moment—less a seismic shift in pop balladry and more a beautifully crafted, if fleeting, entry in the genre’s canon. Featured on the 1995 album “Naked and Sacred”.
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![]() 4 . Dubstar – I Will Be Your Girlfriend“I Will Be Your Girlfriend” by Dubstar combines synth-pop charm with a playful edge, reflecting the ’90s Britpop zeitgeist while embracing a uniquely personal tone. Originally conceived as an instrumental in 1992, the track underwent multiple reinventions before its ultimate form in 1996, featuring contributions from Steve Hillier and Chris Wilkie. The song channels a curious blend of influences, borrowing grooves from Trans Global Underground’s “Temple Head” and weaving in the melodic elegance of Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi,” a juxtaposition that feels both cheeky and inspired. Its recorded version, helmed at Stephen Hague’s barn studio in Woodstock, NY, adds polish without sacrificing its offbeat whimsy, underpinned by the prominent use of Roland’s S-760, JD-800, and JV-1080 synths. The lyrics, drawn from intimate reflections and locale-based inspirations like Stepney Banks in Newcastle, offer a grounded counterpoint to its glossy production. Accompanying the track is a colorful music video, full of visual quirks mirroring its playful narrative, a reminder of the cheeky humor Dubstar imbues into their melancholy-tinged pop. Though it peaked modestly at number 28 on the UK Singles Chart, the song further solidified its place within the “Goodbye” album’s broader framework, where standout singles like “No More Talk” and “Cathedral Park” coexist. “I Will Be Your Girlfriend” rests confidently between introspection and polish, simultaneously tethered to its time and intriguingly timeless in its oddball sincerity. Featured on the 1997 album “Goodbye”.
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![]() 5 . Cathy Dennis – Falling‘Falling’ by Cathy Dennis emerges as a 1993 slice of dance-pop that tiptoes between emotive longing and glossy production. It’s co-written by Dennis herself alongside Shep Pettibone and Tony Shimkin, key figures whose fingerprints are all over its polished minimalism. The PM Dawn remix lends an airy fragility to the track’s rhythm, nudging it into radio-friendly territory and nudging Dennis briefly into pop-cultural orbit with its UK Singles Chart peak at number 32. Its understated success was bolstered by an accompanying black-and-white music video adorned with glittery backdrops, tumbling objects, and even a few curious white mice scampering through the visual oddity. Beyond its individual merits, ‘Falling’ marks a curious period in early ’90s pop when genres flirted with one another under the loom of dance beats and yearning vocals. The song’s brief appearance on the UK Airplay Chart at number 49 reflects both Dennis’ enduring niche appeal and the track’s fleeting mainstream moment. Ultimately, ‘Falling’ sits as a piece of early ’90s pop ephemera: catchy, sleek, and lightly perfumed with a touch of vulnerability. Featured on the 1992 album “Into the Skyline”.
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![]() 6 . Gin Blossoms – Hey JealousyGin Blossoms’ “Hey Jealousy” captures a mix of angst and nostalgia, wrapped in jangly guitar chords that defined early ’90s alternative rock. Its lyrics, penned by Doug Hopkins, trace regret and longing, echoing the songwriter’s inner turmoil, yet its upbeat tempo somehow masks the melancholy lurking beneath. The track originally appeared on the band’s 1989 “Dusted” album but found its iconic status after being re-recorded for 1992’s “New Miserable Experience.” The polished production doesn’t strip away its raw emotional center, instead balancing vulnerability with an arena-ready catchiness. The reworked lyric—switching “you can trust me not to drink” to “you can trust me not to think”—adds a layer of introspection while sidestepping uncomfortable personal specifics. Peaking at number 25 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1993, the song transcends its era, buoyed by a simplicity that’s both accessible and insistent. The music video, though filmed on the cheap initially, gained traction after several reshoots, proving that sometimes charm outpaces budget. “Hey Jealousy” manages to toe the line between rough-edged honesty and radio-friendly polish, a hallmark of the Gin Blossoms’ bittersweet catalog. Featured on the 1989 album “Dusted “.
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![]() 7 . The Railway Children – Every Beat Of The Heart“Every Beat of the Heart” by The Railway Children emerges as a textured ode to late-’80s indie pop, teetering between introspection and polished ambition. Gary Newby crafts lyrics imbued with a soft yearning, meshing seamlessly with melodic instrumentation that recalls New Order’s upbeat sensibilities without losing emotional depth. The production, helmed by Steve Lovell and Steve Power, leans into shimmering guitars and a pulsing rhythm that boasts restraint rather than swagger. Its initial release in the early ’90s found modest traction, before a reissue catapulted it into greater visibility, clinching a top spot on the US Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart and earning critical nods from music journalists who saw their trajectory edging toward wider accessibility. Jane Silley of “Record Mirror” heralded it as a refinement of their earlier offerings, while David Giles of “Music Week” likened its sonic architecture to a poppier, more radio-friendly recalibration of post-punk. For all its accomplishments, the track operates in a delicate space: earnest yet not overly sentimental, polished but not devoid of edge. The accompanying music video, a product of its era, complements the song’s romantic undertone, exuding just enough charm to secure MTV airtime stateside. Within its three-plus minutes, the song draws a tightrope between understated sensibility and mainstream appeal, marking The Railway Children’s fleeting brush with broad recognition while still remaining tethered to their indie roots. A notable highlight from an album striving to reconcile its indie ethos with the pop landscape of its time. Featured on the 1990 album “Native Place”.
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![]() 8 . Carleen Anderson – Maybe I’m AmazedCarleen Anderson’s rendition of “Maybe I’m Amazed” takes Paul McCartney’s classic and infuses it with an understated elegance, showcasing her ability to reinterpret without overstating her presence. Released in 1998, Anderson’s approach strips the song down to its emotional core, employing minimalistic instrumentation that mirrors her hallmark style. Known as much for her vocal dexterity as for her lineage—being the daughter of Vicki Anderson and stepdaughter of Bobby Byrd—Anderson opts for a pared-back arrangement that places emphasis squarely on the voice, allowing the rawness of the lyrics to shine. While this track didn’t storm the charts, its inclusion in her broader catalog adds an edge to her reputation for subtle, genre-spanning interpretations. Her collaborations across albums, such as enlisting Orphy Robinson’s vibraphone or Samy Bishai’s violin on other projects, speak to her interest in blending textures, though “Maybe I’m Amazed” remains a more solitary moment. This version ultimately hovers between reverence for the original and the kind of quiet innovation that won’t scream for attention but is quietly magnetic all the same. Featured on the 1998 album “Blessed Burden “.
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![]() 9 . Lorraine Cato – How Can You Tell Me It’s OverReleased in 1992, “Lorraine Cato – How Can You Tell Me It’s Over” offers a snapshot of early 90s R&B, colored by emotional weight and a polished yet understated production. The track treads the familiar territory of heartbreak, wrapping its themes in smooth vocals that communicate a kind of quiet resilience. Gary Barnacle’s flute contributions add a layer of texture, though they remain more of a backdrop than a focal point, leaving the spotlight firmly on Cato’s intimate delivery. There are two versions of the song, the 7-inch and 12-inch mixes, both steered by Simon Law, whose production opts for a clean, unobtrusive framework that refrains from overwhelming the song’s message. The accompanying music video, now accessible on YouTube, leans into its subject matter, visually emphasizing the reflective tone through modest aesthetics rather than grandiose storytelling. While the song lacks any distinguished chart run or history of notable live performances, it has managed to carve a space in compilations such as “Charm Music Vol. I” and “100 Hits The Ladies,” giving it periodic visibility among retro enthusiasts. Its appeal lies less in innovation and more in its ability to resonate as a hallmark of a genre moment—R&B laying a foundational blueprint with emotive storytelling and refined production.
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![]() 10 . Lisa Moorish – Mr. Friday NightLisa Moorish’s “Mr. Friday Night” arrives with a buoyant blend of ’90s pop charm and a playful irreverence, tailor-made for the era’s dance floors. Released in 1996, it finds itself sandwiched between the tail end of Britpop and the booming import of American R&B, yet manages to carve its niche in a landscape teeming with synth-driven optimism. Its lyrics flirt with themes of fleeting romance and hedonistic escapism, delivered through Moorish’s velvety vocals that balance poise with a knowing smirk. The production, courtesy of Johnny Douglas, glimmers with upbeat precision, coupling a bouncy groove with a liberating cadence that feels quintessentially mid-decade. Its modest peak at #24 on the UK Singles Chart reflects a momentary flicker rather than a lasting inferno, yet the song clings to cultural memory with a nostalgic grip. The accompanying music video, a kaleidoscope of bright hues and cheeky choreography, further emphasizes its carefree tone, a visual counterpoint to the brit-grim aesthetic dominating other contemporaries. What “Mr. Friday Night” might lack in global acclaim, it compensates for in its audaciously unapologetic embrace of the ephemeral thrills of pop—a confetti burst of frivolity before the weekend wanes.
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![]() 11 . Sophie B. Hawkins – I Want YouSophie B. Hawkins brings an unexpected twist to Bob Dylan’s “I Want You,” transforming it into a layered pop ballad flavored with subtle techno beats and a hint of early ’90s hip-hop sensibilities. Her reinterpretation blends breathy vocals with a production that sits somewhere between polished radio pop and experimental edge, offering a stark contrast to Dylan’s raw, poetic delivery. Released in 1992 as part of her “Tongues and Tails” album, the track nuances its longing-filled lyrics with an emotive but restrained performance, a choice that sidesteps drama in favor of atmospheric depth. Charting modestly in the UK at number 49 and earning her a spot at Dylan’s 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration, the cover finds its cultural significance more in its audacity than its commercial success. Its minimal chart impact outside of the UK and US doesn’t overshadow its role as a curious example of early ’90s pop willing to reinterpret classic material with equal parts sincerity and ambition. |
![]() 12 . Goldbug – Whole Lotta LoveGoldbug’s take on “Whole Lotta Love” is a cheeky reinvention that marries Led Zeppelin’s iconic rock energy with electronic flair, coated in acid jazz textures. It’s 1996 and the UK charts are lit up with this pulsating reinterpretation, a track that straddles homage and audacity. Featuring a sample of the Pearl & Dean theme—a nod to British pop culture quirks—the song doesn’t just cover, it reimagines. Katherine Ellis steps into the spotlight for a Top of the Pops performance that ditches the original vocalist; a move reflecting the band’s tumultuous lineup shifts. Chris Evans’ relentless radio promotion catapulted it to number three on the UK charts, but flattery soon turns litigious as a royalties dispute surfaces. For all its energy and clever production, there’s an undeniable irony in converting Led Zep’s raw blues-rock into polished electronica. The music video, a hyperactive blur of ’90s visual tropes, captures the track’s bold but divisive ethos—less purist, more party. Goldbug’s anthem may have had its moment, but tied to it remains a blend of cultural novelty and the legal drama of adaptation.
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