UB40, The Mission, Sheryl Crow, U2, Beastie Boys, Sinéad O’Connor, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Rolling Stones, Kula Shaker, Genesis, Blur, Natalie Imbruglia
They are the performers of twelve vintage amusing, puzzling and sometimes shocking videos of songs that were ranked in various charts, this week (01/52) BUT… in the Nineties 90s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
For TWENTY FOUR more ‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ – Vintage 90s Music Videos – week 01/52 – click here and here
Tracklist
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1 . UB40 – Bring Me Your CupUB40’s “Bring Me Your Cup” sits comfortably within the band’s 1993 album *Promises and Lies,* a project that skyrocketed to the top of the UK Albums Chart and found itself greedily charting across international markets. While “Bring Me Your Cup” never fully enjoyed the standalone glory of the album’s chart-dominating single “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” its inclusion adds depth to a record that blends reggae sensibilities with an unmistakable pop polish. The track itself feels like a leisurely stroll through UB40’s well-trodden territory—a confluence of laid-back rhythms, warm brass flourishes, and vocals that coax rather than demand. It doesn’t seek to be a showstopper but instead works like a supporting actor—necessary, competent, and undeniably likable. That said, the tune’s charm occasionally risks being eclipsed by more magnetic numbers on the same album, leaving room for debate whether it truly stands tall or simply fills space. *Promises and Lies* led to a sprawl of mid-‘90s live performances in which “Bring Me Your Cup” found an appreciative international audience, though it rarely stole the spotlight in concert setlists. Contextually, the track reflects an era when UB40, over a decade into their career, had mastered their brand of reggae-pop hybrid but were perhaps a bit too comfortable coloring inside the lines. This isn’t a song punching above its weight class; it knows what it is and rests easily on those laurels. Featured on the 1993 album “Promises and Lies”.
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2 . The Mission – Tower of Strength“Tower of Strength” by The Mission is a sprawling anthem that occupies a unique space in the 1988 album *Children*, with its grandiosity bolstered by producer John Paul Jones, whose Led Zeppelin pedigree adds a tangible weight to the track’s ambition. The song’s eight-minute sweep is an unapologetic ode to melodrama, wrapped in the layered guitars and booming choruses that became synonymous with the Gothic rock movement of the era. Wayne Hussey considers this track the heart of The Mission’s identity, a mix of emotional intensity and theatrical flair that has cemented its place as a keystone of their live shows, rekindling its relevance during milestones like the *Children Play* 30th-anniversary tour in 2018. Gary Numan once admitted envy for its towering structure, suggesting that the song’s ambition transcends its genre—a sentiment echoed in its adoption by NHS workers during the pandemic, a real-world testament to its unifying themes of resilience and connection. The 2020 reimagining, *TOS2020*, brought an expanded cast of collaborators, from Martin Gore to Julianne Regan, turning the track into a collaborative statement of solidarity, with proceeds benefiting COVID-19 charities. This rework not only modernized the song but also reinforced its evergreen appeal, reflecting how music can evolve without losing its essence. The original music video, heavily circulated in the era’s emerging Gothic subculture, underscores the fusion of bombastic production and dark romanticism that defined the band’s aesthetic. What makes “Tower of Strength” endure is its unabashed embrace of its own excess, a celebratory affirmation of empowerment that refuses to be subtle. Featured on the 1988 album “Children”.
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3 . Sheryl Crow – Everyday Is A Winding RoadFew songs manage to capture life’s unpredictable rhythm quite like Sheryl Crow’s “Everyday Is a Winding Road.” Written collaboratively by Crow, Jeff Trott, and Brian MacLeod, the track emerged from an unlikely creative process, initially dismissed by its writers before finding its identity through deliberate deconstruction for the 1996 film “Phenomenon.” Its genesis lies in a poignant tribute to Crowded House drummer Paul Hester, with the lyrics nodding to his infectious personality, his daughter, and even Crow’s early career. The production is as textured as its thematic undertones, with a serendipitous fuzzy bassline from a Moog synthesizer becoming a striking sonic element. Neil Finn’s backing vocals add depth, while the rich, layered instrumentation underscores its themes of impermanence and spontaneity. Commercially, the song fared well, cracking the top tier of charts in the U.S., Canada, and the U.K., and later earning a Grammy nod for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance—the same ceremony where Crow’s album seized Best Rock Album. Thematically, the track feels as relevant today as it did then, a rumination on embracing the chaos of life’s twists and turns while searching for equilibrium. Its cultural footprint is equally significant, finding placement in films like “Erin Brockovich” and resonating anew during Crow’s lockdown performances in 2020, where its message of resilience struck a chord with an audience grappling with global uncertainty. Even Prince couldn’t resist reinterpreting it, putting his spin on the track in his 1999 album “Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic,” further cementing its artistic elasticity. Ultimately, “Everyday Is a Winding Road” proves itself as both a nostalgic staple and a timeless anthem, embodying the unpredictability of life with a disarming blend of earnestness and groove. Featured on the 1996 album “Sheryl Crow“.
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4 . U2 – Mysterious WaysU2’s “Mysterious Ways,” a standout from their 1991 album *Achtung Baby*, thrives on contradiction—a gritty product of a band nearly at its breaking point but simultaneously at the peak of their creativity. This track oozes funk-infused grooves, driven by The Edge’s snappy guitar riff and a rhythm section that refuses to stand still. Born from chaotic Berlin studio sessions, its transformation from a clunky work-in-progress to a chart-climbing juggernaut owes much to producer Daniel Lanois’s sharp instincts. The song marks a playful departure for U2, with Bono imbuing the lyrics with themes of feminine mystique and spiritual duality inspired by conversations about the divine’s maternal aspects. Morocco’s desert hues color the video, accented by belly-dancing imagery that became a concert mainstay during their Zoo TV era. And then there’s the remix—a Paul Oakenfold-crafted dance rendition that offers the song a second life in the club scene, bending its rock origins in surprising directions. “Mysterious Ways” captures U2 at their most experimental, balancing commercial appeal with artistic risk, proving that sometimes, the best creations stem from chaos. Featured on the 1991 album “Achtung Baby“.
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5 . Beastie Boys – Sure ShotReleased in June 1994, Beastie Boys’ “Sure Shot” opens their fourth studio album, *Ill Communication*, with an infectious energy that bridges jazz influences and rugged hip-hop rhythms. The track makes prominent use of a flute loop sampled from Jeremy Steig’s 1970 jazz piece “Howlin’ for Judy,” a daring production choice that lends the song a distinctive texture amid the dense beats. Lyrically, it underscores themes of personal and social evolution, with the group reflecting on their past missteps, particularly concerning their attitudes toward women, a notable departure from their earlier antics. The band, comprising Adam “Ad-Rock” Horovitz, Michael “Mike D” Diamond, and Adam “MCA” Yauch, delivers sharp, interwoven verses that showcase their trademark confidence and camaraderie, punctuated with clever cultural references, including nods to funk legend Lee Dorsey. Visuals for the song, directed by Spike Jonze, became emblematic of the group’s inventive approach, gaining significant airplay and cementing their reputation as visual innovators in the genre. Despite its modest commercial performance on the charts, “Sure Shot” became a pivotal piece in the group’s catalog, further bolstered by the success of *Ill Communication*, which debuted at number one on the Billboard 200 and achieved 3× Platinum certification. Ahead of its time, the track marries an old-school hip-hop essence with experimental production, resonating as a reflection of the Beastie Boys’ evolution both musically and as individuals. Featured on the 1994 album “Ill Communication“.
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6 . Sinéad O’Connor – Thank You for Hearing MeCalling “Thank You for Hearing Me” a mere song feels like underselling it; it’s more of an emotional exhale, an outpouring of gratitude wrapped in hypnotic loops and sparse production. Released in 1994 as part of Sinead O’Connor’s album *Universal Mother*, it distills a deeply personal narrative co-written with her former husband, John Reynolds, into a minimalist, prayer-like mantra that treads on the edges of breakbeat and tribal influences. The track’s enticing simplicity acts like a test of patience and devotion—there are no vocal acrobatics or virtuosic solos here, just O’Connor’s raw sincerity in vocal form, unpolished yet profoundly resonant. Critics like Larry Flick held a megaphone to its ethereal charm, dubbing it a blend of “hip-hop overtones” and stripped-down emotionality, though others might find its repeated refrain bordering on meditative excess. While the single flirted with modest success, particularly in Europe where it settled into respectable chart positions in Poland and Iceland, its cultural weight lies not in its metrics but in its vulnerability, a patchwork of heartbreak and resilience stitched together with sound. The accompanying Richard Heslop-directed music video appears to resist flashy concepts, instead opting for moody, understated visuals that complement the song’s introspective tone—a stark contrast to the glittering, fast-paced excesses of 1990s pop culture. If the 1990s music sphere were a party, this track would be the guest who left early to have a quiet conversation with the moon; forgettable by the loud majority but unforgettable to the few listening closely. Featured on the 1994 album “Universal Mother”.
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7 . The Smashing Pumpkins – Rocket“Rocket,” a standout from The Smashing Pumpkins’ 1993 album “Siamese Dream,” serves as a tightly wound manifesto of individuality draped in grunge-era distortion. The song courts a yearning for self-determination, captured in frontman Billy Corgan’s candid desire to “bleed in [his] own light,” a sentiment both liberated and confrontational, quietly bristling against comparisons to Cobain or Farrell. The lyrics lean into a theme of escape, echoed visually in its MTV-favorite music video, which sees kids crafting a backyard spaceship—a DIY metaphor for breaking terrestrial bounds. Musically, it’s a tangled mesh of towering guitar layers, a sonic hallmark for producer Butch Vig, whose fingerprints here feel unmistakable but never overpower the hyper-personal narrative at the core of the track. Critically, it darts between introspection and elation, balancing dark undertones of familial discontent with unshakable forward momentum, making it a song that feels paradoxically buoyant in its pain. “Rocket” may not have eclipsed the chart success of “Today” or “Disarm,” but its lasting appeal lies in its raw propulsion—a reminder of the 1990s alternative ethos where catharsis met ambition head-on. Featured on the 1993 album “Siamese Dream“.
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8 . The Rolling Stones – Like A Rolling StoneBob Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone” is an audacious anthem of defiance and transformation, a six-minute jolt that blew apart the boundaries of what a pop song could be in 1965. The Rolling Stones, though entirely unrelated to Dylan’s creation by name, paid homage to this masterpiece with their raucous live cover in the mid-90s. Unlike Dylan’s biting delivery steeped in existential rebellion, the Stones brought their swaggering rock-and-roll energy to the classic during performances like their 1995 set at O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Mick Jagger’s vocals played with Dylan’s iconic sneer, more urgent than reflective, while Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood’s guitars strutted alongside Chuck Leavell’s dreamy keyboard flourishes. This rendition, tucked into their acoustic-laced “Stripped” album, felt like a respectful nod rather than a reinvention, more a celebration of the song’s legacy than an attempt to claim it. The Stones didn’t just play “Like A Rolling Stone”; they inhabited it, letting Dylan’s verses walk through their familiar terrain of blues-drenched rebellion. If Dylan’s original questioned the nature of freedom and self-reinvention, the Rolling Stones’ take seemed more invested in reveling in the song’s rhythm, turning existential musings into a gritty, communal sing-along. While their version didn’t achieve the groundbreaking status of Dylan’s opus—inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1998—it found its power in pure performance, adding layers of raw edge to a song already brimming with restless energy. Featured on the 1995 album “Stripped“.
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9 . Kula Shaker – GovindaIt’s not every day that a British rock band charts with a song entirely sung in Sanskrit, but Kula Shaker didn’t get the memo about sticking to convention when they released “Govinda.” This track, from their 1996 debut album “K,” pushed boundaries, blending psychedelic rock with traditional Indian instruments like the sitar and tabla to create something that felt both ancient and experimental. The lyrics don’t waste time with the banalities of romantic heartbreak or adolescent angst, opting instead to borrow directly from Hindu prayers—name-dropping Krishna in a way Oasis could only dream of doing with their Britpop swagger. Frontman Crispian Mills wears his devotion on his sleeve while wading through transcendental territory, all while keeping a rock n’ roll edge sharp enough to pull off a UK Top 10 hit. Released as a single in late 1996, between an era dominated by grunge hangovers and burgeoning Spice Girl dominance, “Govinda” carved its niche like a technicolor outsider at a gray-scale party. The production, helmed by John Leckie, avoids falling into the trap of over-embellishment, giving the Eastern instrumentation enough breathing room to stand on its own without sounding like window-dressing for a rock band pretending to meditate between gigs. Its music video, laden with Hindu iconography and temple-like visuals, feels like a Wes Anderson fever dream filtered through the lens of ’90s Cool Britannia—a cocktail equal parts homage and appropriation, depending on how you slice it. The band’s unapologetic spiritual flair baffled some and intrigued others, arriving squarely in that strange mid-‘90s moment when everyone’s Walkman was cycling between Nirvana and Ananda Shankar compilations. For all its earnestness, “Govinda” resists being pigeonholed into the realm of the preachy; there’s an infectious energy underscoring its devotional roots, making it a favorite for live performances. Sure, many will question whether a group of lanky Englishmen had any business covering Sanskrit hymns for radio play, but let’s chalk that up as one of the quirks of the Britpop era—a collision of cultures that sometimes misfires but occasionally, like this moment, hits just right. Featured on the 1996 album “K”.
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10 . Genesis – No Son Of MineGenesis’s “No Son of Mine” kicks off their 1991 album *We Can’t Dance* with a heavy narrative punch, centering on themes of familial pain, betrayal, and domestic strife. The story unfolds in a way that refuses to spoon-feed clarity, leaving listeners to piece together the emotional wreckage hinted at through its brooding lyrics and haunting melodies. Phil Collins’s voice wrings every ounce of anguish out of the words, capturing the simmering tension of a fractured father-son relationship. The track’s iconic “elephant sound,” crafted by Tony Banks from a serendipitously botched guitar sample by Mike Rutherford, is a sonic quirk that elevates the atmosphere without veering into gimmickry. Clocking in at 6:40, the album version lets the song breathe, while radio edits trimmed it down for brevity, sacrificing some of its sprawling emotional weight. Its accompanying music video, helmed by Jim Yukich, visualizes the narrative with stark, evocative imagery that further underscores the song’s gut punch of a story. Musical curiosities aside, the song resonates because it dares to sit with the uncomfortable—family dynamics are messy, and “No Son of Mine” offers no easy resolutions. Even during Genesis’s 2020 rehearsals after a long hiatus, the song found its way back into the setlist, proving its enduring relatability. Whether through Collins’s improvisational origin of the lyrics or the unexpected warmth of a cold metronome beat, the track manages to stay lodged in collective memory as both an artistic and emotional high point in Genesis’s final chapter with Collins at the helm. Featured on the 1991 album “We Can’t Dance“.
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11 . Blur – The Universal“The Universal” by Blur walks a fine line between grandeur and irony, encapsulating Britpop’s heyday with its lush orchestration and reflective undertones. The song opens with a cinematic sweep of strings, arranged by John Metcalfe, setting a stage that balances optimism with an undercurrent of something darker. The 15-piece string section doesn’t just add grandeur—it underscores the tension between artificial happiness and genuine connection, a recurring theme from their album, *The Great Escape.* Its lyrics, often interpreted as a sardonic commentary on Prozac-era culture, dissect the allure and emptiness of consumer-driven promises of contentment. Yet, the chorus dares to feel hopeful, crafting a melody that’s as memorable as it is biting in its implications. The interplay between these sentiments mirrors the Britpop era’s fascination with societal contradictions. The accompanying video, directed by Jonathan Glazer, doubles down on this duality. Set in a dystopian world recalling *A Clockwork Orange,* it juxtaposes slick, futuristic sterility with an undercurrent of disquiet, a visual metaphor for the era’s polished but fractured psyche. Band tensions during its filming—most notably Graham Coxon’s increasing detachment—further added to its narrative of strained cheer. The song’s cultural resonance hasn’t faded over time. From serving as a theme for Sky Digital’s advertisements to popping up in spots for British Gas years later, its adaptive appeal is a reminder of its thematic potency. Yet, every revival seems to reinforce the same bittersweet truth: no matter how universal the promise, fulfillment often lies just out of reach. Featured on the 1995 album “The Great Escape“. |
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12 . Natalie Imbruglia – Smoke“Smoke,” a track from Natalie Imbruglia’s debut album *Left of the Middle* (1997), emerges as a moody, introspective ballad shaped by layered guitars and haunting vocal effects. Co-written with Phil Thornalley and Matt Bronleewe, the song channels themes of heartbreak and vulnerability, wrapped in a pop-rock framework that teeters on ethereal. Its release as the album’s fourth single in 1998 carved a niche for it on the UK Singles Chart, landing at #5, though its impact waned in the U.S., where it received only modest airplay. The accompanying music video, directed by Matthew Rolston, delves into a monochromatic aesthetic, with striking visual effects such as Natalie’s face materializing and dissolving in animated smoke, amplifying the song’s melancholic tone. “Smoke” also received notable remix treatments by Martyn Phillips, Ganja Kru, and Way Out West, helping extend its appeal across different markets. While it secured no major accolades, the track served as a critical piece in the overarching success of a debut album that sold over 7 million copies globally and garnered a Grammy nomination in 1999. Despite its understated identity among Imbruglia’s singles, the song found its place in her live performances, particularly during tours in the late 1990s and early 2000s, further bolstering its resonance with fans. At its core, “Smoke” thrives on its restrained emotional intensity and steadfast commitment to its brooding aura, marking an understated highlight in Imbruglia’s early discography. Featured on the 1998 album “Left of the Middle”.
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