‘Music For The Dancers’ N°322 – Vintage 80s Music Videos
The Specials, Kool & The Gang, Kurtis Blow, Jeffrey Osborne, Sharon Redd, James Ingram & Michael McDonald, Whodini, George Benson , LL Cool J, The Buggles, Re Flex, Elton John
They are the performers of twelve vintage dance tunes that were ranked in various charts, this week (04/52) BUT … in the EIghties 80s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
WATCH IN FULL
For TWELVE more ‘Music For The Dancers’ – Vintage 80s Music Videos – week 04/52 – click here
AUDIO ONLY
Tracklist
HEAR IT |
![]() 1 . The Specials – A Message To You Rudy“A Message to You Rudy” showcases The Specials’ knack for reimagining Dandy Livingstone’s 1967 rocksteady original with a sharper edge, crafting a ska anthem that reflects late ’70s British youth discontent. Released in 1979 as part of their Elvis Costello-produced debut album, the track punches through with brass contributions from Jamaican legend Rico Rodriguez, whose trombone anchors the sound, and Dick Cuthell on trumpet. An earnest plea wrapped in a laid-back groove, the song warns a “rude boy” to rethink his lawless ways, blending socio-political messaging with irresistible rhythm. Sliding into the UK Singles Chart at No. 10, the song resonated with an audience grappling with economic woes and racial tensions while grooving to the ska, rocksteady, and punk fusion that 2 Tone Records had refined. Its live performances—raw, spirited, and true to its ethos—cemented its place as a staple of the British ska revival, carried by the energy of The Specials’ original lineup. From soundtracking films like *Grosse Pointe Blank* to influencing acts like Sublime and Amy Winehouse, this track left its brass-infused fingerprints all over subsequent ska waves, making it impossible to forget or ignore its elegantly raw charm. Featured on the 1979 album “The Specials”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 2 . Kool & The Gang – Steppin’ OutReleased in 1981 on the album *Something Special*, “Steppin’ Out” by Kool & The Gang captures the band reveling in their funk and R&B largesse during an era when they basically owned dance floors worldwide. It’s a groove-heavy track penned by a veritable army of contributors, including Ronald Bell, James “J.T.” Taylor, and Eumir Deodato—names that deserve their own space in the disco-funk hall of fame, if anyone ever has the sense to create one. The song hit modest peaks on the charts, cracking No. 89 on the Billboard Hot 100, but fared better elsewhere, including No. 12 on the UK Singles Chart—because who can resist a brisk tempo married to a wall of brass and Taylor’s smooth vocal delivery? This is date-night music for people who still know how to iron a shirt. *Record World* thrilled fans with its review back in the day, singling out the track’s “punchy horns and sleek backing vocals.” And for those wondering about visuals? There isn’t an official MTV-ready music video, but grainy uploads of live performances and 12″ single spins remain out there for the dedicated viewer who doesn’t mind a little time-travel fuzz. While it leans on Kool & The Gang’s obsession with meticulously layered production, the song doesn’t feel overly slick—it’s alive, brassy, and casually glamorous. It evokes the picture of a band that knows its worth but isn’t spending three hours in hair and makeup to prove it. Although “Steppin’ Out” isn’t as iconic as their other tracks like “Get Down On It,” its playful charm and buoyant beat hold their ground, proving Kool & The Gang’s knack for throwing a joyous musical soirée remains unmatched. Featured on the 1981 album “Something Special”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 3 . Kurtis Blow – If I Ruled The World“If I Ruled the World” arrives as a curious intersection of nostalgia and ambition, marking 1985 as the year Kurtis Blow envisioned utopia through his brand of old-school hip hop. Released as part of his album *America*, the track takes a swing at societal re-imagination under the hypothetical leadership of Blow himself, pairing aspirational verses with a pronounced sample from Harry Richman’s rendition of “Bye Bye Blackbird.” The production, co-helmed by Blow, David Reeves, and Aaron O’Bryant, opts for a mix of funk-inspired grooves and rhythmic ingenuity, a hallmark of early hip hop’s penchant for borrowing and innovating all at once. Charting at No. 24 on the UK Singles Chart, the song’s momentum outshines its relatively modest commercial success, staking its claim as a critical entry during a transitional phase for the genre. Cultural relevance bubbles throughout, as the inclusion of “If I Ruled the World” in the soundtrack for *Krush Groove* situates it amidst a broader narrative of hip hop’s rise to mainstream visibility in the 1980s. The music video underscores the charismatic delivery Kurtis Blow masters, a blend of earnestness and showmanship that leans heavily into the optimism woven through the lyrics. By threading an air of philosophy through accessible beats, the track bridges the carefree party ethos of early rap with reflections on freedom and equality, setting a thoughtful precedent for the harder, more politically charged directions hip hop would soon embrace. Its sampling of classic jazz melodies contrasts sharply with the booming aggression lurking on the horizon for late-’80s rap, making this track feel like both a statement and a time capsule. Decades later, the song gains an odd second life through Nas’ 1996 homage of the same name, an evolution that trades Blow’s effervescent optimism for introspective realism, leaving audiences to contemplate the shifting tides of ambition in hip hop.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 4 . Jeffrey Osborne – The BorderlinesJeffrey Osborne’s *The Borderlines* exists in two contradictory timelines, which is fitting for a track that radiates emotional tension. Depending on who you ask, it’s a standout from his 1984 album *Don’t Stop* or a deeper cut on his 1986 release *Emotional*. Either way, residing in the intersection of R&B, pop, and funk, the song carries Osborne’s hallmark velvet vocals, layered over crisp mid-80s production courtesy of George Duke, who clearly understood the genre’s pivot to glossy, radio-friendly hooks. Chart-wise, the song comfortably climbed within the top 40 on U.S. placards, but its standout moment might be that unexpected cameo in *Santa Barbara*. Seeing Osborne croon while two soap opera characters danced suggestively may be the most 80s thing imaginable. Pop-culture crossovers like this might explain why his music often existed as much in the living rooms of Americans as on their car stereos. Musically, the track’s strength lies in its understated groove. It doesn’t beg for attention, but its cascading synths and polished basslines underscore its intricate craftsmanship. Lyrically, Osborne navigates familiar yet relatable territory: love teetering on the brink, a fancy way of saying ‘we’re about to break up unless you stop being a mess.’ It’s drama packaged in a groove so smooth you almost miss the pathos. Contextually, *The Borderlines* falls during Osborne’s post-L.T.D. solo stride. His career in the 80s represented a burgeoning independence, wielding a voice equally at home in sentimental ballads or funkier fare. Whether performed live on *Soul Train* or quietly slipped into streaming playlists decades later, the song retains a peculiar charm, resisting the cobwebbed fate of similar-era hits. Still, calling it groundbreaking would be generous. For all its polish, it remains tethered to its time—highly enjoyable but not exactly visionary. Those slanted synths and dramatic vocal flourishes may feel dated, but then again, isn’t nostalgic déjà vu half the fun? Featured on the 1984 album “Don’t Stop”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 5 . Sharon Redd – In The Name Of LoveSharon Redd’s “In The Name of Love” places itself firmly in the glittering, groove-centric ethos of early 1980s post-disco. Released under Prelude Records in 1982, it rides high on the polished production values of an era shifting from the excess of disco to a sleeker, synth-infused dancefloor aesthetic. Produced by Eric Matthew and bolstered by a Hot Tracks remix, this vibrant composition flaunts an undeniable rhythmic pulse, a hallmark of the dance music circuit at that time. The track’s melody feels like an earnest conversation between warm R&B textures and the mechanical precision of early electro-funk—smooth, yet insistent. With impeccable vocal phrasing, Redd delivers a narrative drenched in emotional conviction, although it never strays too far from the formulaic themes of romantic yearning that characterized much of the pop-inflected music of its day. Commercially, the song echoed louder in the UK than in the U.S. dance markets, peaking at number 11 on the UK Singles Chart. Coupled with its parent album’s chart performance, it ensured Redd’s visibility on the club scene, especially in Europe. While not a Billboard titan, it still found its place among club staples, proving that a dancefloor favorite doesn’t always translate into Top 40 accolades. Yet, its lasting charm lies in Redd’s ability to bridge sentimentality with groove—a tricky line to walk without descending into schmaltz. This standout from Redd’s third album encapsulates the collaborative spirit of Prelude Records, a label that thrived at the intersection of diva-fronted vocals and dancefloor experimentation. Co-written with Ricky Williams, the songwriting blends a functional simplicity with energetic arrangements, though it doesn’t push boundaries enough to redefine its genre. It’s less a revelation and more an affirmation of the well-trodden, neon-lit paths of its era—but that’s not necessarily a critique. While Redd’s ability to channel charm and finesse into her vocal performances is evident, it’s tempting to wonder if this prowess would’ve yielded even more resonance in a track that dared more. Yet for what it sets out to be—a glimmering dancefloor gem—it hits the mark with precision. It may not rewrite history but instead serves as a shimmering snapshot of 1982’s sonic playground, where longing and rhythm collided on sweat-soaked nights. Featured on the 1982 album “Redd Hott”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 6 . James Ingram & Michael McDonald – Yah Mo B There“Yah Mo B There” is the love child of R&B’s soulful groove and synthpop’s shimmering gloss, a track that marries divinity with funky optimism. Released in 1983 on *It’s Your Night*, James Ingram’s debut album, the song ropes in the caramel-smooth vocals of Michael McDonald, who seems genetically engineered to melt tension on the spot. Quincy Jones’s production is evident in its crisp, layered sound, all buttery basslines and sparkling keyboards, like a musical champagne toast you’re unable to resist sipping. The title phrase “Yah Mo” is not, despite speculation, a linguistic cousin of “Yolo.” It’s a sacred nod to Yahweh, inserting a layer of spiritual gravitas into an otherwise bump-worthy bop. The gospel undertones are clear—not preachy, but instead suggesting divine intervention as a kind of cosmic safety net when life’s chaos looms. The track charts well, peaking at No. 19 on the Billboard Hot 100, though its presence feels better suited to the R&B charts, where it makes a stronger impact at No. 5. Its Grammy win for Best R&B Performance by a Duo or Group confirms its polished yet earnest appeal, a rare balance in pop landscapes. The music video, delightfully absurd, depicts a man pursued through various mishaps, managing to inject humor into what is otherwise an ode to perseverance. McDonald and Ingram’s combined talents give it a burnished quality; while the song feels firmly anchored in the early ’80s, its themes are timeless enough to avoid feeling purely nostalgic. Pop culture echoes emerge with its inclusion in films like *The 40-Year-Old Virgin* and TV shows like *American Dad!*, proving its staying power without ever being cloyingly ubiquitous. The real charm lies in the layering: syrupy without being too saccharine, slick without totally losing its emotional grit—a track that leads with faith but knows how to groove its way through the mortal mess. Featured on the 1983 album “It’s Your Night”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 7 . Whodini – Magic’s WandReleased in 1982, “Magic’s Wand” by Whodini is a fascinating snapshot of hip-hop’s formative years, straddling the line between underground grit and early commercial experimentation. With production helmed by the distinctly offbeat Thomas Dolby—yes, the same man behind “She Blinded Me with Science”—the track veers into surreal territory with its synth-drenched, electro-funk beats. This is a song that pays homage to DJ culture, specifically radio icon Mr. Magic, and it doesn’t skimp on celebrating the larger-than-life role that music plays in uniting people on the dance floor. Lyrically, it’s not flashy—just right for its mission: an earnest acknowledgment of the DJ as the lifeblood of hip-hop parties. Its historical importance stems less from topping charts (it peaked modestly on the US Dance Club and R&B/Hip-Hop Songs charts) and more from its innovative visual and sonic elements. The accompanying music video—among the first for a hip-hop track—carries an energy that MTV couldn’t ignore, helping nudge rap into the broader cultural mainstream. The quirky mix of Dolby’s electronic signature and Whodini’s effortless rhymes introduces a new blend of genres, laying early groundwork for future crossovers like new jack swing. Sure, its production may feel dated to ears steeped in today’s overproduced fidelity, but that’s exactly the charm: it’s a time capsule that predates the polish, roughing up the notion that this genre needed to play by any pre-existing pop rules. Echoes of the track reverberate over decades, with samples showing up in music by Nas and Wreckx-N-Effect—that alone confirms its staying power, even if modern listeners approach it like dusty vinyl from an attic collection. Love it, critique it, or admire its role in putting early hip-hop music videos on the map—there’s no denying that “Magic’s Wand” carries an enduring charge of nostalgic electricity. Featured on the 1983 album “Whodini”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 8 . George Benson – Never Give Up On A Good ThingGeorge Benson’s “Never Give Up on a Good Thing” can be seen as a textbook example of early ‘80s genre-blending, where jazz, R&B, and adult contemporary awkwardly yet charmingly mingle under the spotlight. Released in 1982 as part of *The George Benson Collection*, this track marks a curious pivot in the guitarist’s career—one foot anchored in his jazz roots, the other stepping cautiously into pop terrain. Co-written by Michael Garvin and Tom Shapiro, the song somehow oscillates between breezy optimism and gleaming commercial ambition, which—depending on your tolerance for polished lyrics about perseverance—either induces a wince or a smirk. The production, helmed by Jay Graydon, feels quintessentially ‘80s: slick to the point of slippery. Steve Lukather’s guitar riffs operate like a well-dressed sidekick, sophisticated but determined never to overshadow Benson’s smooth, buttery vocals. The ensemble cast of musicians—Greg Phillinganes’ electric piano, Paulinho da Costa’s percussion, and Jerry Hey’s brass flourishes—delivers an immaculately arranged backing that is almost too perfect, like a dinner party where everyone’s afraid to spill the wine. Benson’s vocal performance is undeniably magnetic, deftly straddling charisma and restraint, though the track’s polish at times drowns out the rawness that made his earlier work engaging. Commercially, it proved successful enough, making respectable chart dents across the UK, Ireland, and Canada while lingering in the lower half of the US Billboard Hot 100. Ironically, its greatest flaw may lie in its slickness; while Benson’s guitar-playing prowess is evident, it feels like it’s been handed a backseat to a big-budget sound mix. The accompanying music video all but winks at the soft-focus aesthetic of the early MTV era, showcasing Benson’s charisma while glossing over any hint of grit or edge. For fans who love their jazz piped through a pop filter and dressed in pastel hues, this track delivers exactly—or perhaps too much—what they might expect.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 9 . LL Cool J – I Can’t Live Without My RadioReleased in 1985, “I Can’t Live Without My Radio” bursts onto the scene as LL Cool J’s musical ode to his boombox, a clunky yet revered symbol of ‘80s street culture. Produced by Rick Rubin under Def Jam Recordings, the track strips hip-hop down to its core—tight beats and uncompromising lyricism, bypassing the frills for raw, unapologetic delivery. The song does not flirt with lofty Billboard Hot 100 positions, peaking instead on the R&B singles chart at No. 15, but its cultural presence dwarfs its chart stats. Absorbed into films like *Krush Groove* and the DNA of Golden Age hip-hop, its minimalist production gives Rubin’s emerging style a defining showcase. LL’s rhymes laud his boombox as both party starter and portable icon—whether blaring out rhythms to woo potential matches or as a device to carve out sonic territory in public spaces. For a track universally adored in its circle, its absence of an official music video is conspicuous, but fan-made renditions on platforms like YouTube fill that gap. The *Radio* album, certified platinum, rode on the back of this breakout single, offering a gritty counterpoint to that era’s polished pop sheen. Spotting its influence isn’t hard—a backdrop to Radio Raheem in Spike Lee’s *Do the Right Thing* or a magnet for occasional covers by underground acts like Halloween, Alaska. Most covers struggle to replicate the original’s pulse, which is fused with LL’s unshakable confidence and cocky charisma that became the blueprint for his long career. Whether performing this track during MTV’s maiden hip-hop foray or over airwaves in urban enclaves, LL transmits more than a sound—he broadcasts an identity. Featured on the 1985 album “ Radio“.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 10 . The Buggles – Living In The Plastic AgeReleased in January 1980, “Living in the Plastic Age” by The Buggles critiques the synthetic detachment of late 20th-century society with a melodic precision fitting the synth-pop landscape of its era. The track leans heavily on electronic instrumentation, with Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes crafting a tableau of mechanical beats, processed vocals, and sound effects—including telephone rings and distorted cries—that illustrate an oppressive artificiality. Richard Burgess’s meticulous drumming anchors the song, adding a human inflection to an otherwise machine-driven soundscape. Positioned as the second single from their debut album, *The Age of Plastic*, this track carried intellectual heft beneath its polished veneer, addressing a techno-dystopia without losing its pop sensibility. Despite living in the shadow of its predecessor, the global phenomenon “Video Killed the Radio Star,” it achieved a respectable peak of No. 16 on the UK Singles Chart, staying there for eight weeks and making waves in continental Europe. Russell Mulcahy’s music video, a kaleidoscope of bold colors and provocative imagery, precedes the more celebrated visuals of the 1980s but suffered limited airplay, muting its impact. The Buggles mimed the song on *Top of the Pops* in its heyday and later revisited it during charity performances; a live rendition wouldn’t emerge until decades later. Interestingly, the track has endured in niche circles, earning a left-field 2005 cover by French metal band Carnival in Coal, underscoring its appeal across genres. More than just an artifact of its time, it encapsulates the growing unease with technology’s intrusion into human experience—a theme still relevant, albeit cloaked in the robotic optimism of a bygone synthesizer age. Featured on the 1980 album “The Age of Plastic”.
|
HEAR IT |
![]() 11 . Re Flex – The Politics Of DancingReleased in the early months of 1983, “The Politics of Dancing” occupies a curious niche within 1980s synth-pop. Constructed around a hypnotic Oberheim DSX sequence, its robotic precision pairs with a manufactured humanism—an invitation to the dance floor that simultaneously critiques the very cultural systems it indulges in. Paul Fishman’s lyrics float in the ether between earnestness and banality, presenting dance as both escapism and communal expression, a sort of international semaphore for unity. The track’s production, helmed by John Punter, straddles the line between slick commercial packaging and the plastic sheen typical of the era’s new wave hits. Chart success proved scattered but respectable, from a Billboard Hot 100 No. 24 peak in the U.S. to its modest No. 28 climb in the U.K., while carving out stronger numbers elsewhere—an early testament to music’s transcontinental idiosyncrasies. Lyrical profundity takes a backseat to a synth riff sticky enough to ensure airtime on early MTV playlists, balanced precariously between artistry and commercial obligation. The track’s “one-hit wonder” tail lingers over the band like an asterisk, contrasting its fleeting radio ubiquity against its deeper resonance as a token of rave culture’s nascent days. Even its resurgence in the 2017 film *Atomic Blonde* feels less like a triumph and more like a well-placed archival callback, emblematic of how the song exists as a relic rather than a revelation. Wrapped in nostalgia but tethered to an era of shiny cynicism, “The Politics of Dancing” is the sonic equivalent of a neon sign: persistently bright, vaguely artificial, and faintly melancholic in its durability. |
HEAR IT |
![]() 12 . Elton John – Wrap Her Up (w/ George Michael)Released in 1985, “Wrap Her Up” pairs Elton John with George Michael during an era when both were riding high on pop stardom. The song is a cheeky ode to celebrity and glamor, blending synth-rock, new wave, and blue-eyed soul into a glossy confection that screams mid-’80s excess. Produced by Gus Dudgeon for the *Ice on Fire* album, the track swings between playful name-checking of cultural icons like Marilyn Monroe and Marlene Dietrich, and a driving beat designed for the neon-lit dance floors of the time. George Michael’s falsetto backing vocals add a layer of charm, though he has openly admitted the technical challenges of nailing his parts. The music video, helmed by Russell Mulcahy, revels in kitsch, with cameos and appearances from Elton, George, and even Kiki Dee, creating a visual that matches the song’s frothy frivolity. A commercial success, it climbed charts in multiple countries, hitting #20 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and #12 in the UK. Though its single version trims down the exhaustive roll call of famous women present in the lengthier album cut, the song retains its winking humor and vibrant energy in both formats. Performed live during John’s *Ice on Fire* tour, the track’s lifespan in his setlists fizzled by the mid-1980s, a reflection of its role as more of a quirky blip than a cornerstone in his vast repertoire. Ultimately, “Wrap Her Up” feels as though it’s winking at itself, a shiny snapshot of two superstars having a little too much fun with their personas. Featured on the 1985 album “Ice on Fire”.
|
Comments are closed.