‘Music For The Dancers’ N°514 – Vintage 90s Videos
Judy Cheeks, Saffron, The Mike Flowers Pops, 2Wo Third3, The Farm, Baby D, Alda, Sl2, Deacon Blue, Mary Kiani, Clock, Shaft
They are the performers of twelve vintage dance tunes that were ranked in various charts, this week but in the Nineties 90s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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For TWENTY FOUR more ‘Music For The Dancers’ – Vintage 90s Music Videos – week 02/52 – click here and here
AUDIO ONLY
Tracklist
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1 . Judy Cheeks – ReachJudy Cheeks’ “Reach” occupies a distinct corner of the 1990s dancefloor, straddling house beats and pop hooks with a confidence that refuses to overstay its welcome. Released in 1994 under the album *Respect*, the track leaned heavily on producer Simon Climie’s polished, radio-ready aesthetic—a choice that paid off commercially, landing it at #12 on the UK Singles Chart. Thematically, the song is a rallying cry for ambition and resilience, though its sincerity is offset, perhaps unintentionally, by its almost clinical precision in structure. “Reach” quickly became ubiquitous in UK dance clubs, where its driving rhythm and soaring vocals had the unmistakable scent of a Saturday night anthem—big on ambition, light on subtlety. Judy Cheeks’ vocal delivery hammers in the track’s themes of hope and determination, though at times it’s hard to tell whether climactic moments are drawn taut by genuine emotional stakes or sonic excess. Despite never managing to infiltrate the upper echelons of the global pop conversation, “Reach” carves out a niche as a dependable fixture in retro dance compilations—a memorably polished slice of ‘90s club culture, if not much more. Featured on the 1996 album “Respect”.
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2 . Saffron – CirclesReleased in 2001 under the Mute Records label, “Circles” by Saffron spins an intricate web of dreamy production and layered instrumentation. Produced by Alan Moulder, the track sinks its teeth into themes of introspection and change, leaving listeners teetering between longing and hope. It charted respectably on the UK indie charts, a testament to its understated resonance within the alternative scene of the early 2000s. The song’s construction hums with distant echoes of mystery, its layered heights pushing boundaries without demanding excessive pomp. Saffron’s delicate treatment of personal exploration resists overblown sentimentality, choosing subtler emotional contours instead. The production blends swirling textures and introspective lyrics, creating a soundscape that feels simultaneously grounded and untethered. While Moulder’s imprint is unmistakable, the track doesn’t lean too heavily on its dreamlike aesthetic, allowing enough room for its thematic core to breathe. “Circles” feels less like a plea for clarity and more like a quiet acceptance of life’s unresolved tensions. It neither barrels forward nor lingers aimlessly—it simply exists, a moment frozen somewhere between yearning and solace. The track’s understated charm lies in its ability to reflect complexity without sinking into chaos, striking a fine balance that holds attention without asking for too much of it.
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3 . The Mike Flowers Pops – Don’t Cry For Me ArgentinaThe Mike Flowers Pops’ take on “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” is less a tear-soaked ballad and more a cocktail-hour reinterpretation with a side of irony. Lifted from Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s musical “Evita,” the song is stripped of its theatrical gravitas and refurbished with the band’s trademark retro-lounge sensibilities. Released in 1996 on their album “A Groovy Place,” the cover playfully borrows from mid-century easy-listening aesthetics, a humorous wink at its lofty origins while maintaining its core themes of longing and reflection. The arrangement leans heavily on shimmering violins, jazzy keys, and a breezy vocal delivery that seems almost too nonchalant for a song this dramatic, but somehow, it works—or at least entertains. This rendition could never claim prime chart real estate, peaking modestly at #23 in the UK, yet it encapsulates the group’s brief moment in the ‘90s limelight. Equal parts kitsch and craftsmanship, it’s a curious paradox: a heartfelt anthem turned into lounge lizard fodder, still clinging to its original emotional resonance while wearing a cheeky grin. Those who find themselves nostalgic for the peculiar wave of ironic revivalism The Mike Flowers Pops represented might appreciate the recording as both a product of its time and a playful homage to pop culture’s propensity for reinvention.
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4 . 2Wo Third3 – I Want To Be Alone2Wo Third3’s 1995 track “I Want To Be Alone,” plucked from their self-titled debut, feels like a snapshot of mid-90s British R&B simplicity. The group, a fleeting ensemble in the UK pop scene, leaned into urban beats and harmonized vocals common to the era, but the execution, while competent, didn’t propel them beyond niche appeal. The song was absent from industry heavyweights like the UK Singles Chart or Billboard Hot 100, a detail less damning when considering it resonated with the pockets of listeners who appreciated minimalist, introspective soundscapes. Thematically, it hovers over solitude — not the dramatic, fist-clenching kind, but a subtler independence steeped in emotional reserve. Interestingly, its production, overseen by Ian Levine under PWL Records, eschewed the bombast of comparable contemporary efforts in favor of simplicity. An official video exists, showcasing the group’s earnest, if unremarkable, performance style, but this artifact of their brief career left no discernible imprint on pop culture beyond its era. In hindsight, “I Want To Be Alone” doubles as a defiant whisper in a decade crowded with megaphone statements—unpolished yet sincere, its subtlety almost working against its longevity.
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5 . The Farm – Groovy TrainReleased in 1990, “Groovy Train” by The Farm lands squarely in the era when the Madchester and baggy movements began commanding attention, intertwining indie rock with dance grooves. A jangly guitar riff sets the tone, accompanied by an upbeat rhythm that injects a carefree vibe into its lyrical narrative centered on freedom and escapism. Produced under the guidance of Suggs from Madness and Terry Farley, the track boasts a polished yet organic charm that reflects the pair’s extensive grasp of British music trends at the time. Its connection to rave culture and club-ready remixes ensured its relevance within underground and mainstream circles alike, while its placement at number 6 on the UK Singles Chart signaled its mass appeal. The accompanying music video, shot at Southport’s Pleasureland, adds a playful visual layer, with the band riding rollercoasters to mirror the track’s youthful energy. Not one to remain insular, “Groovy Train” also found a foothold in the U.S., peaking at number 15 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks Chart, aligning it with international tastes in groove-heavy indie music. Though deeply rooted in its time, the song’s infectious melody and celebratory vibe lend it a timeless accessibility that continues to resonate beyond its heyday. Earning a spot on compilations of ’90s music, the track preserves its cultural footprint while evoking nostalgia for its rollercoaster ride of an era. Featured on the 1998 album “Spartacus”.
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6 . Baby D – So PureBaby D’s “So Pure” stands as a definitive artifact of the mid-’90s UK rave explosion, a concoction of rhythmic breakbeat, pulsating house, and the raw textures of jungle music. Released in 1996, it followed the seismic impact of their earlier hit “Let Me Be Your Fantasy,” carving its own space within the frenetic electronic landscape of the decade. The track radiates an almost tangible energy, propelled by Dee Galdes-Fearon’s soaring, emotive vocals, delivering themes of spiritual connection and euphoric unity amidst the chaos of rave culture. Its production, courtesy of the group’s Terry Jones and Clive Lendich and linked to Production House Records, emphasizes the intricate layering of beats, maintaining a balance between hypnotic repetition and dynamic progression. Chart-wise, its No. 3 peak on the UK Singles Chart underscored its mass appeal, but it was the reception within underground rave circuits that truly immortalized its status. With its music video on heavy rotation on MTV and The Box, “So Pure” achieved a cultural ubiquity, standing as a sonic snapshot of an era defined by communal ecstasy and unrelenting BPMs cranked high into the night. It’s not just a song—it’s a timestamp of a subculture that glittered with both the promise of freedom and the haze of warehouse euphoria. Featured on the 1991 album “Deliverance”.
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7 . Alda – Girls Night OutReleased in the late ’90s, “Girls Night Out” sashays its way into explosive pop-dance territory under the guidance of Alda Björk and Epic Records. The track carries an audacious energy, transforming the mundane into a thunderstorm of neon-lit empowerment, unapologetically nuancing themes of nightlife and camaraderie. Its production pulses with kinetic beats bolstered by frenetic synths, creating a momentum reminiscent of a relentless strobe light. Rather than leaning into sterile pop tropes, Alda injects a defiance that feels homemade, raw, and glitter-drenched. There’s a scrappy charm to its arrangement—equal parts throw-your-head-back freedom and late-’90s pop maximalism, teetering just on the edge of unruly. Lyrically, it’s a rallying cry for shedding the day’s weight and spinning out into the electric pulse of a night spent among friends who double as accomplices. This isn’t a track that begs for subtlety, nor does it apologize for its unrelenting fizz; it thrives in motion, amplifying that fleeting freedom locked in a Friday night. Yet, beneath its candy-coated defiance, there’s an impatience woven into its tempo, a subtle critique of the limits placed on moments of autonomy, even in revelry. By possessing the elasticity of a sound pre-packaged for the UK dance charts yet stamped with a personal ferocity, Alda simultaneously nods to ‘club culture’ while keeping it just accessible enough for suburban bedrooms. It never pretends to reinvent the wheel but instead insists you spin it harder and faster beneath disco lights that might burn out any second. Featured on the 1992 album ” “.
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8 . Sl2 – DJs Take ControlReleased in 1991, SL2’s “DJs Take Control” stamped its presence on the rave landscape with its breakbeat-heavy core and unapologetic energy. Produced by duo Slipmatt and Lime under XL Recordings, the track operates as an adrenaline-soaked manifesto of early-’90s UK rave culture. It mixes frantic breakbeats with bold house-inspired elements, creating a sonic whirlwind that feels both chaotic and carefully calibrated. The vocals of MC Jay J layer an extra burst of personality over the thunderous beats, cementing the track’s raw intensity. Its commercial success—reaching number 11 on the UK Singles Chart—did little to dilute its rave-centric appeal. The accompanying music video, all strobe-lit warehouses and kinetic crowd shots, encapsulates the era’s feverish club exuberance without feeling forced or overproduced. Included in SL2’s “Way In My Brain” EP, this song captures a moment in time when rebellion, rhythm, and euphoria collided under unrelenting basslines. The enduring fascination with this track in remix culture and DJ sets underscores its legacy as more than just a dancefloor filler—it’s a snapshot of a movement.
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9 . Deacon Blue – Your Town“Your Town” by Deacon Blue is a remarkable pivot in the band’s trajectory, shedding their earlier blue-eyed soul for a brooding, electronic sheen fit for the early 1990s. Released in 1992 as the lead single from their album *Whatever You Say, Say Nothing*, it stood out like a dark leather jacket in a closet of soft knits. Ricky Ross pens a tale of urban grit and internal conflict, wrapped in layers of a moody yet propulsive beat, guided by the polished production of Steve Osborne and the then-rising dance music icon Paul Oakenfold. The sonic shift didn’t alienate their fan base; if anything, it was an invitation to wander through a rain-soaked cityscape, headphones on, with intrigue at every corner. Commercially, the song scratched the surface of mainstream success, peaking at number 14 on the UK charts, a modest victory but one worth noting. Across the Irish Sea, it resonated more deeply, hitting the Top 10 and proving that emotional gray clouds tend to hover universally. The accompanying music video amplified this vibe. Moody visuals and cinematic angles made it a favorite on music television, back when such platforms treated videos as more than mere playlists on shuffle. Fans who went beyond the glossy single were rewarded with two B-sides imbued with the melancholia and poetic turns that Deacon Blue always carried in their back pocket: “Almost Beautiful” and “Trampoline.” These tracks further demonstrate the band’s adventurous spirit post-mainstream pop sheen. Although live performances of the song, such as its brief moment on *Top of the Pops*, never fully captured the intensity of its studio richness, they cemented its position as a pivotal chapter in Deacon Blue’s story—a bold risk yet undeniably theirs. For listeners today, resources like YouTube keep the track alive, offering a small but potent window into a band refusing to coast, even in the face of shifting tides. Featured on the 1999 album “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing”.
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10 . Mary Kiani – I ImagineMary Kiani’s “I Imagine” tumbles out of the mid-’90s dance-pop machinery with glossy precision, a product of impeccable studio work from The Rapino Brothers. Released in 1996 as part of her debut solo album “Long Hard Funky Dreams,” its pulsating beats and soaring vocals epitomize a decade enamored with euphoric club anthems. The song’s chart performance, peaking modestly at No. 50 in the UK Singles Chart, doesn’t fully reflect its impact within the dance-floor circles where its remixes, particularly the Motiv8 version, gained traction. This was music engineered to thrum through smoke-filled rooms and sticky sound systems, not to linger at the top of radio playlists. Visually, the music video clads Kiani in bold aesthetics, a near-obligatory nod to the high concept spectacle that 1990s pop demanded. Pre-solo stardom, Kiani helmed vocals for The Time Frequency, lending credibility to her dance credentials, though her solo efforts didn’t quite catch the same spark in mainstream consciousness. Lyrically, “I Imagine” rests comfortably in the terrain of hope and longing, though one might argue its themes of belief and optimism border on familiar pop tropes. Still, its relentless energy ensures it never wallows in sentimentality for too long—this was always a track more geared for movement than introspection. In a catalog balancing commercial aspirations with her club roots, “I Imagine” is both a statement of intent and a reminder of why mid-’90s dance tracks often felt like fleeting but undeniable bursts of joy, leaving a trail of glowing, ephemeral moments in their wake. Featured on the 1997 album “Long Hard Funky Dreams”.
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11 . Clock – That’s The Way [I Like It]Clock’s electrified rendition of “That’s the Way [I Like It],” originally a glittering disco staple by KC and the Sunshine Band, morphs into a pulsating Eurodance anthem that nostalgically nods to the ’90s. The bold reimagining, wrapped in throbbing beats and buoyant synths, underscores Clock’s knack for commandeering classics and driving them straight onto laser-lit dancefloors. Released in 1994 as part of their debut album *It’s Time…*, this high-velocity track charted impressively across Europe, striding confidently to a peak position of #11 in the UK Singles Chart. Its accompanying music video, with kaleidoscopic visuals and kinetic choreography, amplified its infectious energy, effortlessly syncing with the decade’s euphoric club culture. Though Clock wasn’t bagging trophies left and right, this fizzy number earned its cultural footprint, spinning steadily in club sets and ’90s dance compilations, a nod to their fruitful alignment with producers Pete and Jeff Waterman.
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12 . Shaft – Roobarb And Custard“Roobarb and Custard” by Shaft delivers an irreverent remix of a classic children’s television theme, injecting it with the frenetic energy of the early ’90s rave scene. Borrowing the melody from Johnny Hawksworth’s original 1974 composition, the track transforms playful nostalgia into an acid-fueled, synthesizer-heavy romp tailor-made for club enthusiasts. Released in 1991, it struck a chord with listeners, climbing to No. 7 on the UK Singles Chart and holding its ground for nine weeks. The quirky blend of kitsch animation and pulsating beats in the music video nods to its roots while completely flipping the tone into something cheekier, louder, and unmistakably a product of its era. Shaft turns a brief moment of animated history into a kinetic anthem that feels part parody, part celebration—and unapologetically fun in its execution. Though their music catalog never reached comparable heights again, this track has managed to age like a slapstick joke that keeps getting its timing just right.
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