This week In ’80s Throwback’ 04/52
INXS, Janet Jackson, Michael Jackson, The Neville Brothers, Frank Zappa, Tears For Fears, Cheap Trick, Elvis Costello & The Attractions, Neil Diamond, Van Halen, Pink Floyd, Prince
They are the ’80s Throwback’ artists selected among the 350 Posts we publish this week.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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AUDIO ONLY
Tracklist
![]() 1 . INXS . Need You Tonight“Need You Tonight” by INXS spins a slick mix of sensuality and late-80s pop sheen, positioning itself as both a chart-topper and a time capsule. Emerging as the lead single from their 1987 album *Kick*, it delivers a punchy groove underpinned by a hypnotic guitar riff and the steady thump of a Roland TR-707 drum machine. Layering lead singer Michael Hutchence’s sultry delivery over this tight instrumentation, the track captures a simmering urgency that transcends its era while locking it firmly in its glossy, synthesized context. The accompanying music video, helmed by Richard Lowenstein, toys with visual dichotomies—live-action blending with animation—and throws in a nod to Dylan’s cue card gimmick for the *Mediate* segment, cheekily mixing minimalism with maximalist flair. Despite its initial modest UK chart entry, a well-timed re-release catapulted it to No. 2, pulling it from temporary obscurity into the echelons of earworm immortality. The song still refuses to slip into the nostalgia bin, with its reappearance on Australian charts in 2014 proving its ability to cling to relevance. It’s an artifact of its time but refuses to be nailed down by history, maintaining a vibe equal parts suave and salacious. ![]() |
![]() 2 . Janet Jackson . Control“Control” steps into the room with a defiant stomp, as Janet Jackson tosses off pop’s cookie-cutter princess crown and demands to chart her own course. Written by Jackson, Jimmy Jam, and Terry Lewis, the track pulsates with a New Jack Swing swagger that feels as tight as the shoulder pads of the ’80s. The production is a crisp interplay of synthesizer stabs and staccato beats, propelling a melody that’s both assertive and infectious. Lyrically, the song teeters between empowerment anthem and a personal declaration, with Jackson’s delivery balancing cool confidence and a smirk that underscores her message. The video, directed by Mary Lambert, visualizes Jackson prepping for a concert, complete with dramatic parental confrontations about independence—soap opera flair paired with glossy MTV aesthetics. Paula Abdul’s choreography breathes life into the visuals, crafting movements that amplify the track’s authority while nodding to the era’s obsession with synchronization and style. The single’s legacy resides not just in its Hot 100 chart climb to the fifth spot or its grip on the top of the Hot Black Singles chart, but in how it projects a young artist unapologetically seizing her voice. Performances at the 1987 American Music Awards and 2006 Billboard Music Awards stitch “Control” into pop culture’s fabric, standing as proof that whatever else Jackson’s career may be, it will never lack for conviction. While undeniably rooted in its time, “Control” pulses with a universality that reminds listeners—in pop music and life—agency is always a beat worth dancing to. ![]() Diana, Tina, Janet et al at the ‘American Music Awards’ (1987) |
![]() 3 . Michael Jackson . This Place Hotel“This Place Hotel” shuffles onto the stage with a dramatic flair befitting its creator, Michael Jackson, and his knack for blending theatrical storytelling with pop innovation. Sitting among the tracks on The Jacksons’ 1980 *Triumph* album, this is no ordinary “Heartbreak Hotel,” a title Jackson swapped out to sidestep confusion with Elvis Presley’s earlier hit, though he insists the similarity was purely coincidental. Where Presley crooned over his woes, Jackson spins the tale of a haunted relationship disaster—a paranoid odyssey centered on a hotel allegedly constructed to doom couples. The track is steeped in tension, its 98 bpm tempo crawling just slow enough to blacken the disco gloss that colors the rest of *Triumph*, making it the noir outlier of the album. Sonically, it’s a Frankenstein’s monster of funk guitars, ominous synth stabs, and cascading percussion, thanks to an ensemble of collaborators like Tito Jackson, Greg Phillinganes, Nathan Watts, and Paulinho da Costa. The background vocals—where Michael’s voice dances with Stephanie Spruill and the Waters sisters—envelop the song with a spectral, otherworldly chill. Lyrically, it veers into melodrama; the ten-year flashback, the foreboding hotel, the inevitable breakup—it all feels like a tele-play pumped full of high-stakes angst, yet Jackson sells the narrative like an actor fully committed to his role. Performed live during the *Triumph* and *Victory* tours (and sneaking onto his legendary *Bad World Tour*), the song functions less as a groove and more like a mini-horror flick designed for a stadium stage. Its cultural footprint, though subtler than Jackson’s bigger hits, sneaks its way into hip-hop through samples, and it lives on as a moody counterpoint to the upbeat optimism most associate with The Jacksons. Even if the track never quite carved its way to the top of the charts, “This Place Hotel” exists in defiance of expectations—proof that even secondhand heartbreak can breed compelling, if not slightly over-the-top, pop artistry. ![]() |
![]() 4 . The Neville Brothers . Yellow Moon“Yellow Moon,” the titular track from the Neville Brothers’ 1989 album, lands somewhere between a bayou lament and a reggae-infused groove. Aaron Neville’s falsetto weaves through the song’s humid landscape, bolstered by shimmering Hammond organ phrases and a bass line that walks with purpose. As if auditioning for a voodoo rite, Cyril Neville’s percussion and Charles Neville’s smoky saxophone add depth, while the production—courtesy of Daniel Lanois—wraps the track in a moody, atmospheric haze. There’s a haunting energy here, as if the “Yellow Moon” itself is less an observer and more a silent accomplice. With further input from sonic alchemists Brian Eno and Malcolm Burn, the result feels simultaneously grounded and otherworldly, an auditory paradox that teeters between gritty blues and ethereal experimentalism. If the Neville Brothers aim for transcendence while rooted in tangible tradition, this track hovers just close enough to the ground to leave its mark without losing its footing. ![]() |
![]() 5 . Frank Zappa . Tinsel Town Rebellion“Tinsel Town Rebellion,” the titular track of the 1981 album, skewers the punk rock scene with biting satire, painting a picture of opportunistic bands donning punk aesthetics purely to clinch record deals. Performed live at the Berkeley Community Theatre on December 5, 1980, the song writhes with irony, dissecting the commodification of rebellion itself. Frank Zappa, as ever, wields his wit like a scalpel, carving through the shallow pretensions of a movement born to disrupt but, in his telling, quickly sold out to the machine of commercialism. The lyrics are sharp and sardonic, delivered with a theatrical flair that hovers between mockery and bemusement. Musically, it’s a calculated chaos—an amalgamation of syncopated rhythms, sudden shifts in dynamics, and an undercurrent of tightly controlled anarchy, reflecting the absurdity Zappa perceives in his subject matter. Notable for its cultural commentary, the track embodies a critique that stretches beyond punk rock, targeting a broader entertainment industry that thrives on trends and artifice. This album also showcases the debut of Steve Vai and Bob Harris in Zappa’s ensemble, with their contributions sliding seamlessly into the controlled madness that defines his work. The record reached #66 on the Billboard 200, a modest chart performance that belies its sprawling ambition and inventive fusion of musical styles and lyrical themes. From explorations of human behavior to unflinching reflections on popular culture, Zappa ushers listeners through strange and unpredictable territory, both amusing and unsettling in equal measure. ![]() EMI publish Frank Zappa’s album . ‘Does Humor Belong in Music?’ (1986) |
![]() 6 . Tears For Fears . Everybody Wants To Rule The World“Everybody Wants to Rule the World” isn’t just a pop song—it’s a time capsule of mid-’80s ambition, paranoia, and sleek production values. What began as a late-minute addition to Tears for Fears’ “Songs from the Big Chair” morphed into a global smash that toes the line between buoyant synthpop and existential dread. Originally sparked by two acoustic guitar chords from Roland Orzabal, the track was finessed in just under two weeks. The original lyrics had a more on-the-nose phrase about “going to war,” but they smartly swapped it out for the more universal (and less combative) mantra we hear today. Lyrically, the song grapples with humanity’s ceaseless thirst for control, serving up uneasy wisdom in the guise of a shimmering anthem. Couple this with Nigel Dick’s video, where wide California landscapes clash with urban imagery, and you have a fitting visual metaphor for a world torn between freedom and dominance. The track’s meteoric rise to number one on the Billboard charts and heavy MTV rotation wasn’t just luck; it was a rallying cry dressed in glossy hooks and syncopated rhythms. And let’s not forget its 1986 reincarnation, “Everybody Wants to Run the World,” crafted specifically for the Sport Aid campaign, adding a charitable twist to its philosophy. From Lorde’s icy reinterpretation to Weezer’s dutiful nod, the song has been reshaped countless times, yet its essence remains unflinchingly intact—a litmus test for pop’s ability to reflect and critique the cultural zeitgeist in equal measure. ![]() |
![]() 7 . Cheap Trick . The Flame“The Flame” by Cheap Trick is a quintessential 1988 power ballad born during a turbulent chapter in the band’s trajectory. The song itself wasn’t penned by the band but rather outsourced, a mandate from Epic Records that reportedly left guitarist Rick Nielsen none too thrilled—a fitting irony, considering this collaboration led to their most commercially successful track. Lyrically, it’s a brooding confession of longing and devotion set against a backdrop of layered keyboards and Robin Zander’s emotive crooning, hitting that saccharine sweet spot characteristic of late ‘80s rock balladry. The track’s rise to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 underscores (not that we’ll use that word) the era’s fondness for cinematic melodrama in music, with Australia and Canada also succumbing to its glossy charm. Visually, the accompanying music video locks the band into an almost dreamlike performance setting—Zander’s mournful delivery juxtaposed with flashy production elements indicative of MTV’s golden age. Though arguably detached from the rawer energy of Cheap Trick’s earlier days, the track nonetheless revitalized their commercial relevance, propelling their “Lap of Luxury” album to platinum status, their first in nearly a decade. Equal parts calculated and heartfelt, “The Flame” remains a curious relic of ‘80s rock, a ballad that burns bright yet carries the unmistakable fingerprints of industry meddling. ![]() As we wish, today, Robin Zander, . Happy Birthday, the day is perfect for . ‘Cheap Trick At Their Bests’ post |
![]() 8 . Elvis Costello & The Attractions . ClublandIn “Clubland,” Elvis Costello and the Attractions fuse their knack for sharp lyricism with a glossy, late-night veneer, painting a vivid portrait of the murky allure of nightlife. Sprinkled with puns and double entendres, the track’s narrative reads like the inner monologue of someone navigating a labyrinth of neon-lit illusions, with Costello skewering the glamour and grime of afterhours culture in equal measure. The jittery guitar lines, reportedly influenced by The Police, recall the angular precision of “Message in a Bottle,” though the song’s middle eight shifts gears, offering a sharp contrast that keeps the listener on edge. Recorded during a creative blitz in late 1980 but commercially underwhelming upon release, “Clubland” failed to extend Costello’s hot streak, peaking at a disappointing #60 on the UK charts. The accompanying music video, directed by Barney Bubbles, is equally quirky, featuring local Jersey residents and capturing an odd sense of off-kilter glamour that matches the song’s vibe. ![]() Elvis Costello releases ‘Trust,’ his fifth album recorded with the Attractions (1981) |
![]() 9 . Neil Diamond . HeartlightNeil Diamond’s “Heartlight,” birthed in 1982 alongside Carole Bayer Sager and Burt Bacharach, occupies an oddly sentimental place in pop history. This glimmering artifact of soft rock finds its thematic nucleus in extraterrestrial longing—a curious nod to Spielberg’s “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.” Yes, the song reportedly cost Diamond $25,000 in settlements for towing a bit too close to the cinematic mothership, but let’s be honest: its wistful melody and feel-good vibes were worth every penny. The song opens Diamond’s aptly named album *Heartlight,* pairing schmaltzy lyrics with lush orchestration helmed by Bacharach, all cloaked in David Foster’s glossy production ethos. Jim Keltner’s drums keep a pulse steady enough for an elevator ride, while Marty Walsh adds the softest possible edge on guitar—think marshmallows pretending to be knives. Backing vocals from Richard Page, Linda Press, and Julia Tillman Waters round out the mix, enveloping the track in a warm, if slightly saccharine, sonic hug. Chart-wise, it peaked respectably at number five in the U.S., though its trek to a modest number 47 in the UK reveals its divisive reception: a grand anthem for some, aural stupefaction for others. Whether it’s the classic YouTube visualizers or the occasional retro playlist resurrection, “Heartlight” refuses to vanish into obscurity, doubling as a time capsule for an era when pop songs could flirt shamelessly with movies about aliens. Cultural kitsch or heartfelt anthem? That probably depends on how fondly one remembers glowing fingers and Reese’s Pieces. ![]() |
![]() 10 . Van Halen . Jump“Jump” by Van Halen pivots from their guitar-heavy origins, showcasing a bold leap into synth-driven rock. The iconic Oberheim OBX-A keyboard riff by Eddie Van Halen is as gleaming as it is immediate, marking an audacious move for a band entrenched in guitar worship. David Lee Roth’s lyrics, shaped by dark inspiration—a TV report on a potential suicide—are paradoxically energetic, wrapping existential tension in a gleefully sardonic package. The recording combines technical prowess with practicality, Eddie’s guitar solo spliced from multiple takes, almost surgical in its assembly yet raw in its impact. A commercial smash, the track hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100, holding its position for five weeks with the kind of confidence that doesn’t beg but demands attention. The accompanying video, an artfully chaotic mix of stage swagger and hand-held DIY charm, underscores Roth’s knack for performative showmanship. Its earned accolades aside, the video’s quirks—like Roth’s impromptu vocal yelps—add a layer of unpolished charm that counters the song’s meticulous studio origins. Critically revered, it slots into Rolling Stone’s “500 Greatest Songs of All Time,” though its true legacy lies in its ability to polarize fans. For diehard purists, “Jump” renegotiates Van Halen’s identity, heretical to their ethos, but to others, it’s proof of their adaptability and pop sensibilities. It’s not what you expect; it may not even be what you want—but it’s impossible to ignore. ![]() |
![]() 11 . Pink Floyd . Not Now John“Not Now John” throws listeners into a fray of raw emotion and biting critique, serving as the lone hard rock detour on Pink Floyd’s otherwise subdued and introspective *The Final Cut.* Roger Waters pens yet another politically charged piece, but here, David Gilmour takes point on the verses with his gritty, scorn-laden vocals, while Waters interjects in an almost sardonic counterpoint during the refrains. This uneasy balance between the two voices mirrors the song’s thematic tension, volleying between disillusionment and frustration at societal complacency. The profanities feel less gratuitous than they do calculated—blunt weapons wielded in direct defiance of decorum, underscoring the anger that permeates every chord and lyric. The brash guitar riffs and relentless tempo mark a tonal shift from the album’s predominantly melancholic soundscape, making it stand out and connect with listeners who might otherwise feel drowned in the record’s somber depths. The accompanying video, all muted colors and industrial despair, visualizes the track’s thematic elements. A Japanese boy’s doomed encounter and the ghostly presence of Alex McAvoy’s war-worn figure tie *The Final Cut’s* post-war angst back to its grim historical touchpoints, recapitulating themes of futility and human indifference. It’s an uneasy listen, but perhaps that’s the point—this is the sound of Pink Floyd raging against modern apathy, guitars blazing and all. ![]() |
![]() 12 . Prince . Purple Rain“Purple Rain” operates as both a musical climax and an emotional anchor, performed live at First Avenue with string arrangements that elevate its dramatic core. The song, recorded in 1983, embodies Prince’s ability to merge gospel-inflected yearning, rock theatrics, and a deeply melancholic undercurrent. Its title, a blend of mysticism and ambiguity, invites interpretations that range from spiritual redemption to apocalyptic romance. From a commercial standpoint, it cemented itself as a near-ubiquitous anthem, peaking at number two on the Billboard Hot 100 and claiming the top spot on the US Cash Box Top 100. Its enduring resonance was underscored when it returned to the charts in 2016 after Prince’s passing, a testament to its cultural weight. The track’s layered arrangement—soaring guitars, nuanced vocals, and a plaintive outro—are both intimate and cinematic, qualities that aligned perfectly with its corresponding film. Still, for all its grandeur, the melody maintains a fragile vulnerability, allowing it to oscillate between arena-ready spectacle and deeply personal confession. Its Academy Award win for Best Original Song Score feels less like a trophy and more like an inevitability given its seamless marriage of sound and sentiment. The contradictions are part of its charm: it’s a heartbreak ballad that doubles as a rock hymn, an ambiguous gesture that stirs clarity in its listeners. By now, it exists less as a song and more as a cultural institution, proving that art, no matter how massive, still finds its power in emotional precision. ![]() |
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