‘Music For The Dancers’ N°335 – Vintage 90s Music Videos

1 . The Funk Junkeez – Got Funk

“Got Funk?” is a 1997 house track released on the Strictly Rhythm label by The Funk Junkeez, an act that finds its true voice somewhere between party-starting bravado and genre-blending flair.

The track’s original production anchors itself to a groove-heavy foundation, a quintessential hallmark of the mid-’90s house scene, with a clear intent to straddle the accessible and the edgy. It’s a time capsule of club culture, evoking hazy basement gatherings and neon-lit dance floors without overextending its hand to nostalgia. Yet, its simplicity might come off as a double-edged sword—somewhere exciting for purists but lacking in adventurous leaps for others.

What truly broadens the track’s palette are the remixes, which arguably extend its shelf life more than the original ever could. Da Mongoloids’ “Funktastic Funk Mix” stretches the track past the eight-minute mark, packing it with a percussive elasticity that feels as much about hypnotism as about motion. Sol Brothers’ “Got Funk Klub Mix” trades subtlety for crowd-pleasing antics, amplifying the floor-filler energy with unapologetically bold turns. Meanwhile, Junior Sanchez’s interpretation at over nine minutes leans into sprawling experimentation, threading textures that pull at house music’s diverse anatomy without unraveling it entirely.

But not all renditions hit the mark. The “Funkee Junkee Dub” plays it almost too close to the chest, and while “Bass From Outa Space Dub” delivers a tighter low-end punch, it flirts with redundancy in moments when it could take risks. DJ Tonka’s mix, clocking over six minutes, lands somewhere in between; functional but too reliant on structure to truly surprise. There’s a sense that these variations serve house enthusiasts more than they invite casual listeners.

As a project, the song embodies a certain ethos of its era—serviceable, lively, unquestionably vivid in its intentions. Strictly Rhythm’s stamp signals quality control, but none of these versions take it to a place that feels definitively essential or transformative. Still, “Got Funk?” does exactly what it asks in the title: it answers with a grin and just enough rhythm to keep dancers on their toes. Whether you stay on the floor for all its iterations, though, depends entirely on how much funk is enough. B-

More by the same : Wikipedia

2 . Definition of sound – Moira Jane’s Cafe

“Moira Jane’s Cafe” by Definition of Sound serves up a slice of early ’90s dance culture with an unapologetically eclectic recipe. Pulled from the album “Love and Life: A Journey With the Chameleons,” the single surfaced in 1992, riding a groove shaped by producers Donwon and The Red King. While its commercial essay in the UK maxed out at a modest number 34 on the Singles Chart, the track’s real triumph lies stateside, topping the U.S. Billboard Hot Dance Club Play chart—a historic high point as the first UK rap record to claim this position.

The song revels in its multilayered identity, blending house rhythms with an urban swagger, yet its charm feels oddly incidental. What “Moira Jane’s Cafe” achieves in innovation, it loses in cohesion; the track teeters between being a dance floor magnet and an afterthought in the canon of ’90s electronica. Don Weekes and Kevin Clark—fronting Definition of Sound—manage to infuse an understated charisma into the track, though one senses that charisma alone cannot sustain its momentum.

Visually, thanks to Mark Romanek’s direction, the music video elevates the song’s profile. Known for collaborations with bigger names, Romanek injects a stylized edge that makes the corresponding visuals arguably more enduring than the track itself.

Definition of Sound’s trajectory post-“Cafe” is equally fractured. Beyond their high-charting tracks such as “Wear Your Love Like Heaven” and “Now Is Tomorrow,” the group oscillates between underground renown and industry invisibility. Their early guise as Top Billin unearths more questions than answers about unmet potential. Later albums like “The Lick” and “Experience” suffered from fractured production strategies, with the group arguably losing sight of their defining ingredients along the way.

In hindsight, “Moira Jane’s Cafe” offers a curious case study in moments seized and momentum mismanaged. It peaked as quickly as it plateaued—an emblem of its era, both as a triumph and a cautionary tale of fleeting chart accolades.

Featured on the 1991 album “Love and Life: A Journey With the Chameleons “.

More by the same : Wikipedia

3 . Three Drives On A Vinyl – Greece 2000

“Greece 2000” by Three Drives on a Vinyl is less a song and more a trance blueprint, an elegantly layered artifact from the genre’s late-90s heyday.

With Erik de Koning and Ton van Empel steering the ship, this 1997 release on Massive Drive Recordings thrives on hypnotic arpeggios and gauzy synth pads.

Its structure unfolds methodically, offering an 8-minute ascent into euphoria without ever pandering to cheap thrills. Dreamy? Sure. But practical, too—something meant for a club’s peak hour, not just a mind lost in headphones.

The track’s commercial success is notable given its cerebral nature. Number 12 on the UK Singles Chart, number one on the UK Dance Chart, and chart positions in places like Spain (number 8 in 2008) and Australia (number 81) are a testament to electronic music’s global pull during this era.

From the sweeping pads to its house of cards compositional approach, “Greece 2000” commands attention without shouting.

The remixes tell their own story. The KREAM Remix in 2022 and earlier attempts (notably the Miro Vocal Mix) have tried to update its mystique for modern sensibilities, though not all versions stick the landing.

Beyond “Greece 2000,” the duo dabbled with other releases like “Sunset on Ibiza” in 2000, but when progressiveness in trance comes up, this remains their biggest cultural timestamp. Van Empel’s later departure adds a subtle footnote: the project’s current identity feels tethered to its past glory.

It’s telling that DJs as wide-ranging as David Guetta, Oliver Heldens, and Tiësto continue to carry it into club sets decades later.

That kind of longevity speaks volumes—but only if you choose to listen closely.

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4 . Seduction – Two To Make It Right

“Two to Make It Right” by Seduction may not rewrite the rules of late ’80s pop, but it certainly knows how to follow them to palpable success. Anchored by lead vocals from April Harris and Michelle Visage—whose assured delivery injects the track with both finesse and energy—the song shines as a calculated mosaic of its era’s sonic trends.

Produced by David Cole and Robert Clivillés, the track is impressively layered; its samples from “Kiss” by the Art of Noise featuring Tom Jones and Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock’s “It Takes Two” (itself a patchwork of James Brown’s and Lyn Collins’s unmistakable refrains) don’t merely serve as background flourishes. Instead, they function as rhythmic characters, adding texture to a beat-driven format that feels frictionless for a dancefloor but perhaps overly seamless for closer listening.

The real story here lies in its reception. Climbing to number 2 on the *Billboard* Hot 100 in February 1990 and claiming the top slot of the *Hot Dance Club Play* chart in January, it’s evident this song struck a cultural chord. While undeniably infectious, its slick production may feel more premeditated than inspired, a fact underscored by its straightforward pop template.

The music video, helmed by Stu Sleppin and produced by Bob Teeman, visually extends this hyper-commercial appeal without venturing into novelty. It’s become an artifact of the period, later revived in pop culture touchstones like *RuPaul’s Drag Race,* where Seduction alum Michelle Visage serves as judge. This echoes the song’s enduring ubiquity, if not timelessness.

Mixed by Bob Rosa, engineered by Steve Griffin, and mastered by Ted Jensen, the team ensured the technical polish matched its commercial intent. Whether that polish veers too close to sterile might depend on your tolerance for tightly wound pop perfection. There’s no denying the track succeeds at what it sets out to do, though what it offers after that initial thrill may feel fleeting.

Featured on the 1989 album “Nothing Matters Without Love”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Wikipedia

5 . DJ Quicksilver – Planet Love

“Planet Love,” released in 1997 as part of DJ Quicksilver’s album “Escape 2 Planet Love,” serves as a snapshot of late ’90s Eurodance: pulsating, catchy, but ultimately elusive. Produced by Orhan Terzi (DJ Quicksilver) and Tommaso De Donatis, the song straddles the line between formulaic dancefloor fodder and a crowd-pleasing anthem.

Chart performance was respectable, albeit uneven. Achieving a peak of #9 in Norway and a solid #12 in the UK, the track also found more moderate receptions, such as #36 in Austria and #35 in Switzerland. It certainly didn’t redefine boundaries, but it occupied a comfortable spot amongst its contemporaries.

Structurally, “Planet Love” leans on the hypnotic layering of synths and beats that had become a cornerstone of European club music. While competent, the track lacks the unpredictability of Terzi’s earlier hits like “I Have a Dream” / “Bellissima.” The repetition, while essential to the genre, occasionally risks dragging the listener rather than lifting them. The production feels polished but, at times, a bit too safe to truly electrify.

The song’s inclusion in live settings such as the BBC’s “Top of the Pops” underscores its mainstream appeal but doesn’t elevate its legacy. Its position within DJ Quicksilver’s catalog suggests a transitional work—functional and moderately effective but unlikely to challenge the heights of his gold and platinum successes. The broader ’90s dance culture may have embraced it, but it’s ultimately more of a footnote than a flagship. C+

Featured on the 1998 album “Escape 2 Planet Love”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Official Site

6 . Laurent Garnier – Crispy Bacon

“Crispy Bacon” by Laurent Garnier arrives like the unsettling hum of an approaching storm, a minimalist techno experiment whose simplicity hides its devilish intricacies.

Emerging from Garnier’s 1997 album “30,” the track positions itself within a lineage of inspirations—Jeff Mills, Robert Hood, and Scan X—while managing to forge its own peculiar narrative.

Equal parts playful and sinister, its title comes from the image of bacon sizzling in boiling oil—a sensory association that perhaps matches the searing textures of its compressed bassline, the true star of the arrangement.

Garnier’s self-professed obsession with equalization leads to a sound both tactile and relentless, a thumping concoction created with minimal ingredients: bass, a kick drum, hi-hats, and the mischievous manipulations of an MS20 synthesizer.

Despite its skeletal structure, the track thrives on tension, with Garnier’s admiration for Robert Hood’s economy of elements palpable throughout.

The record’s success, peaking at a modest number 60 on the UK Singles Chart, doesn’t diminish its significance.

Its sparring of foreboding bass pulses and intricate percussive patterns captured the restrained aggression of the late-’90s techno scene without overstating its case.

That Jeff Mills, whose Axis releases partially inspired Garnier, would later reimagine it in his “Solid Sleep Mix,” signals both its malleability and its enduring industrial edge.

While simple enough to devastate the dancefloor, Garnier’s named imagery and sonic clarity make “Crispy Bacon” more than just a club weapon—it’s a tightrope walk between jest and menace, both boiled down and crackling with purpose.

Featured on the 1997 album “30”.

Review >> More by the same : Official Site

7 . Time Of The Mumph – Control

“Time Of The Mumph” by Control is a peculiar artifact of 1995’s electronic dance music tapestry, the type of track that quietly lingered in the shadows of chart dominance, peaking modestly at position 69 on the UK Singles Chart on February 11 that year.

A standalone release under the Fresh label, the song seems emblematic of the fragmented energy of 1990s house, garage, and breakbeat, genres that often thrived more in clubs than on the airwaves.

The lack of an associated album, notable producer credit, or collaborative flair positions it as a piece that feels unmoored, a brief flash rather than a sustained statement within the era’s crowded scene.

Sonically, its genre alignment suggests a kinetic, club-ready design, though the absence of detailed accounts or enduring cultural impact leaves it hovering in anonymity.

It charted, yes, but perhaps more as a flicker on electronic music’s peripheral radar than a defining moment. For fans of obscure ‘90s dance releases, this might be the kind of thing stumbled upon in some long-forgotten crate. For everyone else, “Time Of The Mumph” is, at best, an intriguing whisper from a bygone dancefloor.

8 . Orbital – Speedfreak Moby Mutation

“Speedfreak Moby Mutation” finds Orbital—Phil and Paul Hartnoll—placing themselves squarely in the remix territory, reinterpreting Moby’s “Thousand” with their distinct electronic toolkit.

Rather than leaning toward the hyperkinetic maximalism of the original track, the Hartnoll brothers craft a version that manages to simmer and spark in equal measure. Their fusion of techno, trance, and breakbeat is evident, creating a rhythm that feels more like a controlled detonation than Moby’s gleeful chaos.

The absence of any associated chart positions or awards for this remix leaves it in an odd limbo within Orbital’s otherwise celebrated discography. Yet, that doesn’t diminish its place as a fragment of the duo’s broader creative output, which includes landmark albums like “Orbital” (1991), “Orbital 2” (1992), and “Snivilisation” (1994). The remix’s layered complexity and atmospheric textures suggest the musical equivalent of dimly flickering neon, simultaneously inviting and disorienting.

No discussion of the Hartnolls is complete without nodding to their legendary Glastonbury performance in 1994, broadcast on BBC television and still remembered as a high-water mark in live electronic music. Tracks like “Speedfreak Moby Mutation” may not ride on that moment’s coattails but hint unmistakably at the same meticulous attention to sonic detail.

If anything, this remix encapsulates the duo’s DNA: dynamic, nuanced, and perhaps more suited for a hypnotic late-night club set than mainstream playlists. It’s not their most iconic material, but for those willing to burrow through Orbital’s three-decade-long career, it offers a glimpse into the mechanics of their evolution.

Featured on the 1991 album “Orbital”.

More by the same : Official Site

9 . Jamiroquai – High Times

“High Times,” a single from Jamiroquai’s 1996 album “Travelling Without Moving,” offers a polished blend of R&B and funk, marked by a slick six-minute album version and a more compact 4:08 radio edit. The song, released on December 1, 1997, reflects the band’s acid jazz roots while flirting with a pop sensibility that stops just short of overproduced sheen.

Lyrically, Jay Kay walks a tightrope between the visceral and the mundane. While references to cocaine might suggest a seedy, rebellious edge, the real focus lands on the banal impacts of jet lag—missing out on the devilish charm such subject matter might otherwise evoke. The chorus, with its lines about daylight and compressed time, captures the disorientation of perpetual travel but settles for the metaphorical obvious instead of pushing boundaries. Still, Kay’s vocal delivery, praised by *Billboard* for its funk-driven dynamism, saves much of the lyrical monotony.

Rick Pope’s production ensures that each layer—Derrick McKenzie’s tight drumming, Stuart Zender’s bass grooves, Toby Smith’s keyboards—locks into a precise and infectious groove. Yet this precision can feel clinical at times, dialing back the looser energy that characterized their earlier work. The omission of the Esther Williams sample “Last Night Changed It All” from some “Travelling Without Moving” releases arguably strips away a layer of depth, though its absence barely disrupts the song’s structural flow.

Commercially moderate in reach, “High Times” peaked at number 20 on the UK Singles Chart and fared better across American and Canadian dance charts, where its polished funk earned top-10 spots. The radio edit, included in the “High Times: Singles 1992-2006” compilation, has been criticized by fans for overly abrupt cuts, underscoring the challenges of adapting a longer track for casual audiences. Ultimately, while the song captures “the band at its funky best,” as *Billboard* suggests, the thematic and musical conservatism leaves it feeling like an understated entry in Jamiroquai’s broader catalog. It’s a sleek, danceable piece, but one that rarely ventures beyond its well-groomed borders.

Featured on the 1996 album “Travelling Without Moving“.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

10 . Urban Cookie Collective – Sail Away

“Sail Away” by Urban Cookie Collective stakes its claim in the Eurodance boom of the early ’90s with all the subtlety of a neon sign flickering against the backdrop of British club culture.

Released on 7 February 1994 as the third single from their debut album, “High on a Happy Vibe,” the track follows closely in the sequined footprints of its predecessors, blending buoyant beats with radiant vocals by Diane Charlemagne, whose performance injects a soulful earnestness into the otherwise mechanical precision of Rohan Heath’s production.

The song’s chart trajectory is unmistakably cosmopolitan—it ascended to number three in Finland and Switzerland and reached number 18 on the UK Official Singles Chart, where it lingered for a respectable five weeks.

Its wider resonance is evidenced by a peak position of 28 on the Eurochart Hot 100, making modest waves in Israel and Australia as well, landing within the top 20 and top 50, respectively.

Yet, for all its polished ambition, the track can’t entirely disguise its formulaic core; its reliance on repetitive synth motifs and predictable dynamics may leave some listeners yearning for a greater sense of risk or innovation.

The accompanying music video, directed by Lindy Heymann and A-listed on Germany’s VIVA in March 1994, pairs the song’s buoyancy with visually kinetic imagery, though its adherence to trope-heavy ’90s aesthetics feels more functional than groundbreaking.

Urban Cookie Collective’s creative nucleus, Rohan Heath, a classical piano trainee turned dance music auteur, evidences the calculated design of a seasoned producer here, though it’s Diane Charlemagne’s vocal resilience that elevates the material beyond mediocrity.

Charlemagne, who tragically passed away from kidney cancer in 2015, is undeniably the song’s emotional anchor—her voice is as much a performer as a medium, imbuing even the poppiest choruses with a gravitas that feels rare in its genre.

Although “Sail Away” enjoys a metrics-friendly spread across formats (7-inch, 12-inch, CD, cassette) and multiple remixes like the Maximum Development Mix and Judge Jules & Michael Skins Pop Funk Mix, none deviate far enough to warrant more than a passing curiosity.

In a career peppered with joyous hits like “The Key The Secret” and “Feels Like Heaven,” the track ultimately feels like a calculated extension of Urban Cookie Collective’s formula—a polished, bright confection that satisfies but rarely surprises.

Featured on the 1994 album “High on a Happy Vibe”.

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11 . Lenny Kravitz – Fly Away

“Fly Away,” from Lenny Kravitz’s 1998 album “5,” exemplifies refined simplicity cleverly masquerading as spontaneity.

Born out of an amp-testing session and built on four barebones chords—A, C, G, and D—it feels both offhand and meticulously crafted, a fine line Kravitz straddles with practiced ease.

Originally excluded from the tracklist until a friend’s insistence, its eleventh-hour addition reflects its slapdash charm, though it also raises the question of whether its eventual Grammy win for Best Male Rock Performance owed as much to luck as to ingenuity.

Charting at #12 on the *Billboard* Hot 100 and soaring to #1 in the UK, “Fly Away” works as a pop-rock confection that flirts with funk and soul without ever digging too deep into any particular genre.

Its international success—from Iceland to New Zealand—suggests its appeal transcends the specifics of Kravitz’s eclectic influences, though its presence in a British commercial for the Peugeot 206 Supermini probably helped more than the artist might care to admit.

Where Kravitz shines is in his ability to craft a hook so universally digestible that it gathers momentum by sheer ubiquity; the refrain floats, ironies notwithstanding, like the very subject it’s evoking.

Yet the track’s success also exposes some of its own limitations—it’s all surface, endlessly repeatable but rarely revealing.

The grooves charm, but shallow waters run fast, and for all its commercial triumph, “Fly Away” feels more like a moment caught mid-flight than a destination in itself.

Featured on the 1998 album “5”.

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12 . Lulu – Independence

“Independence,” released in 1993 as the lead single from Lulu’s album of the same name, presents itself as both a declaration of resurgence and a polished nod to contemporary trends.

Written by Leon Ware and Winston Sela and produced by Cary Baylis, Eliot Kennedy, and Mike Ward, the song almost bends over backward to fit the early ’90s dance-pop mold, complete with remixes by tastemakers like Brothers In Rhythm and C.J. Mackintosh.

Chart success doesn’t lie: it reached number 11 on the UK Singles Chart and even climbed to number three on the Billboard Hot Dance Club Play chart in the U.S., showing its resonance in club circuits.

Yet, for all its chart-savvy gloss, the song feels more like a calculated reintroduction than a genuine artistic statement.

Lulu’s commanding vocal presence does bring gravity to the track, reminding listeners of her endurance since her debut in the mid-’60s with “Shout” and the universally adored “To Sir With Love.”

“Independence,” however, doesn’t quite punch through the airless production to touch the emotional highs of those classics.

It’s less about innovation and more about affirmation—a singer proving she can navigate the shifting tides of pop music after more than a decade off the radar.

While the accompanying music video positions Lulu firmly within the visual language of slick ’90s pop, it lacks the charisma needed to transcend its time.

Ultimately, “Independence” is as much about Lulu’s adaptive prowess as it is about the constraints imposed by the genre it inhabits—a respectable comeback, if not an extraordinary one.

Featured on the 1993 album “Independence”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site