‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ N°314 – Vintage 80s Music Videos
Mental As Anything, China Crisis, Thomas Lang, George Benson, The Bangles, Madness, Aztec Camera, U2, Deep Purple, Cameo, Tanita Tikaram, Europe
They are the performers of twelve vintage amusing, puzzling and sometimes shocking videos of songs that were ranked in various charts, this week (04/52) BUT … in the Eighties 80s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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For TWELVE more ‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ – Vintage 80s Music Videos – week 04/52 – click here
AUDIO ONLY
Tracklist
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![]() 1 . Mental As Anything – He’s Just No Good For You“He’s Just No Good for You,” released by Mental As Anything in 1987, brims with cheeky humor and satirical jabs, playfully wrapped in a polished pop-rock package. The track, featured on their album *Mouth to Mouth*, showcases the songwriting collaboration between Greedy Smith and Martin Plaza, pairing witty observations with a relentlessly catchy melody. Produced by Richard Gottehrer, whose fingerprints lend a polished sheen, the song marries the band’s whimsical sensibility with a radio-friendly edge—though not without retaining their distinctly irreverent bite. Chart-wise, it performed moderately well, peaking at #15 in Australia and landing a fleeting #88 spot in the UK, which seems almost criminally low given its undeniable charisma. Visually, the associated music video takes a playful jab at authority figures, unfolding in a courtroom set in Monterey, NSW, a setting that amplifies the song’s sardonic wit. Its layered production—complete with jangly guitars, sharp harmonies, and brief harmonica flourishes—serves as a testament to the band’s knack for injecting humor into craftsmanship without sounding flimsy. Live performances during their extensive tours confirmed the track’s infectious nature, and it later earned a spot on their 1999 compilation. Years later, the song lives on in digital form, carried by the same sly charm that defined Mental As Anything’s offbeat legacy. Featured on the 1987 album “Mouth to Mouth”.
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![]() 2 . China Crisis – Wishful ThinkingReleased in the early 1980s, “Wishful Thinking” by China Crisis captures that peculiar moment when post-punk cynicism met the pastel optimism of synth-pop. The track, part of their sophomore album “Working with Fire and Steel – Possible Pop Songs Volume Two,” is a masterclass in restraint, allowing its ambient influences, courtesy of Brian Eno’s shadow looming large, to gently seep through the otherwise radio-friendly sheen. Eddie Lundon’s delicate vocals deliver a melancholic undercurrent, while the minimalism of the synth arrangements creates an atmosphere that feels reflective without veering into melodrama. Mike Howlett’s production sharpens the band’s move toward accessibility, and its chart success—hitting the top 10 in the UK and earning accolades across Europe—suggests this shift paid off, at least commercially. Still, there’s a tension in the track, almost as if China Crisis is hesitant to embrace full pop artifice, keeping one foot firmly planted in introspection. The song’s muted elegance and unhurried pacing set it apart from the bombastic chart material of the era, making its quiet triumph a bit of a pleasant anomaly. The accompanying music video, while visually spartan, only adds to the mystique, portraying the band as reluctant pop stars rather than eager entrants into the glitterati. Featured on the 1983 album “Working with Fire and Steel – Possible Pop Songs Volume Two”.
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![]() 3 . Thomas Lang – The Happy ManThomas Lang’s “The Happy Man” finds its home on his 1987 debut album “Scallywag Jaz,” a record balancing on the fine line between jazz’s sophistication and pop’s accessibility. Released by Epic Records, the song is an artifact of late 1980s experimentation, blending smooth, understated production with Lang’s distinctive vocal bends, a choice that feels as measured as it is unorthodox. Chart ambitions for this single only managed a modest peak at No. 67 on the UK Singles Chart in early 1988, where it lingered for three unremarkable weeks before vanishing from radio rotations. What makes “The Happy Man” interesting isn’t its numbers but its atmosphere—a laid-back defiance of the bombast dominating contemporary pop charts, opting for intimacy over immediacy. Lang’s jazz-inflected stylings are complemented by a Bossa Nova reinterpretation floating around online, a reminder of how the composition’s DNA lends itself to genre fluidity. The song’s obscurity today places it in the category of cult curiosities, beloved by niche audiences seeking sophistication in 80s pop textures. Paired with Lang’s career credits, including opening for Nina Simone, the track stands less as a chart climber and more as a quiet testament to his musician’s sensibility, unhurried and pleasantly out of step with its era’s louder tendencies. Featured on the 1987 album “Scallywag Jaz”.
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![]() 4 . George Benson – 20/20George Benson’s “20/20” is a polished 1985 effort that glides between jazz-pop finesse and R&B warmth, underpinned by Benson’s velvety vocals and deft guitar touches. The title track, engineered by Jerry Peters and Pamela Phillips Oland, is a snapshot of mid-’80s production: glossy, rhythmic, and unmistakably commercial, albeit without venturing into the gaudy excess of the era. That said, the album’s tracklist oscillates between buoyant grooves and sentimental balladry, typified by “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You,” a tune with a sugariness that school dances everywhere have to thank—or blame—for. “You Are the Love of My Life,” a duet with Roberta Flack, might lean into melodrama, but its spotlight in the soap opera “Santa Barbara” cemented its place as a romantic TV go-to. Benson collaborates with heavyweight session players like Jeff Porcaro and Nathan East, delivering an impeccably crafted sound, though the album occasionally trades heart for sheen. If you’re in the mood for cleanly engineered romance and jazz-pop nostalgia, “20/20” might just fit the bill—provided your threshold for sentimental hooks is relatively high. While not the boldest artistic statement of Benson’s career, it’s a testament to his adaptability and knack for finding a groove within shifting musical landscapes. Featured on the 1985 album “20/20“.
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![]() 5 . The Bangles – Walking Down Your Street“Walking Down Your Street” by The Bangles encapsulates the buoyancy of mid-80s pop-rock with a playful mix of jangly guitars, tight harmonies, and lyrics that tread the thin line between yearning and whimsy. Anchored in the album “Different Light,” this track feels like a sibling to “Manic Monday,” though slightly less theatrical and more grounded in its narrative about youthful infatuation and the willingness to risk a little dignity for love. The song itself carries that Californian shimmer, a blend of post-punk sensibility and radio-friendly gloss shaped under David Kahne’s production, dialing in infectious hooks without overselling the drama. The music video’s oddball charm—complete with Leonard Nimoy making an uncredited cameo as a chauffeur and Little Richard crowning The Bangles the contest winners—cements its place in MTV’s golden era of videos that actually entertained without taking themselves too seriously. It’s worth pointing out that “Walking Down Your Street” wasn’t designed to be the show-stealer from “Different Light,” but its breezy, feel-good energy has an enduring appeal even against flashier contenders like “Walk Like an Egyptian.” Though not the runaway triumph of its biggest counterparts, the song reached impressive chart positions across the U.S., UK, and Canada, reflecting The Bangles’ gift for balancing accessible pop with just enough edge to keep things interesting. The songwriting credits, pulled together by Susanna Hoffs, Louis Gutierrez, and Kahne, point to a collaborative effort that’s light on experimentation but heavy on aiming for universal relatability. For fans hungry for live renditions, the track finds its way into setlists without fanfare, allowing the group to lean into their harmonics without overshadowing the night’s marquee numbers. Its history—given its origins as a 1984 track initially titled “Desire”—adds a layer of intrigue, as it marks an early instance of The Bangles breaking into the Top 40 with their own pens, instead of leaning on the likes of Prince or Paul Simon. “Walking Down Your Street” serves as a reminder that while mega-hits define an era, it’s often the smaller, well-crafted gems that age with understated grace. Featured on the 1986 album “Different Light”.
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![]() 6 . Madness – My GirlReleased in 1979, “My Girl” by Madness captures the band’s early ska-infused pop identity with a touch of melodramatic wit. The track sits on their debut album, *One Step Beyond…*, and crystallizes a moment in late-’70s British culture when ska’s infectious rhythms collided with pop’s accessibility. Penned by keyboardist Mike Barson, the song is rooted in personal tensions, humorously inspired by anecdotal conversations about a difficult girlfriend over banana deliveries—a detail both bizarre and oddly fitting for Madness’s quirky ethos. Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley’s production emphasizes a punchy yet clean arrangement: bouncy, slinky basslines mingle with sharp keyboard riffs, while the vocal delivery leans conversational, almost theatrical. The video, filmed at Dublin Castle in Camden, is barebones and characteristically droll, letting the tracked emotion do the heavy lifting. Peaking at number three on the UK Singles Chart in 1980, its brief reincarnation at number 27 upon reissue in 1992 proved its enduring relatability, albeit with diminished pomp. Unlike some contemporaries, Madness rarely wallowed in sentimentality; even their tender moments ensured a cheeky undercurrent, and “My Girl” is no exception. The release of its sequel, “My Girl 2,” in 2012, stripped away much of the charm of the original, trading intimacy for something too polished, too careful. All the same, “My Girl” remains entrenched in Madness’s identity—the perfect encapsulation of lovestruck irritation, underscored by the jittery energy of ska’s second wave. Featured on the 1979 album “One Step Beyond…“.
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![]() 7 . Aztec Camera – How Men AreAztec Camera’s “How Men Are” occupies a unique space within their third album, “Love,” released in 1987. It showcases a band teetering on the edge of indie charm and mainstream production gloss, a balance that both intrigues and unsettles. The song never saw the bright spotlight of a single release but resonates as a deep cut for listeners willing to wade into the ambiguities of Roddy Frame’s lyricism. Here, Frame muses on male emotional frameworks, though good luck pinning him down to a definitive narrative—his words dance around certainty, leaving room for interpretation. It’s introspection veiled in melodic seduction. Musically, the track is a deliberate move away from the stripped-down acoustic ethos of earlier works, embracing textured arrangements and a slick, R&B-inflected polish. Session musicians add layers to the production without stealing the stage. The acoustic guitar retains its prominence, though, slyly nodding to the band’s origins even as synthesizers make their case for the future. Oddly, no official music video supports the track, leaving its visual narrative entirely to the imagination. Yet for a song embedded in such a lushly produced album—one rolling with ’80s opulence—it’s remarkable that it retains an organic anchor, framed by Frame’s troubadour focus. Although others may gravitate toward the chart-friendly confection of “Somewhere in My Heart,” “How Men Are” strikes a more reflective chord, appealing to anyone who finds allure in its layered tension. Fans and casual listeners can find live versions that extend the track’s life, including Frame’s solo renditions that occasionally weave in Curtis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready.” This playful intertextuality hints at broader influences, grounding the song in a lineage of emotionally resonant songwriting. As part of “Love,” it embodies an era of sonic evolution for Aztec Camera, signposting ambition without entirely shedding its indie roots. It’s a minor piece in the band’s discography but one that rewards the curious few who care to linger, perplexed and entranced, at its margins. Featured on the 1987 album “Love”.
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![]() 8 . U2 – New Year’s DayFrom the frosty Swedish landscape of its music video to the political heartbeat driving its core, U2’s “New Year’s Day” is a song that manages to be both intensely specific and widely universal. Appearing on their 1983 record *War*, the track is inspired by the Polish Solidarity movement, though it avoids heavy-handedness by cloaking its political roots in a timeless melody and cryptic lyrics. Edge’s glacial piano riff locks arms with Adam Clayton’s steady bassline, crafting a sonic march that neither glorifies conflict nor shirks its gravity. Steve Lillywhite’s production gives the track its muscle, a lean yet textured mix that feels raw but not rudimentary. Chart success? Sure, it didn’t smash doors down stateside, only crawling to No. 53 on the Billboard Hot 100, but Europe received it with far more affection, with Top 10 positions in the UK and Norway. The accompanying video, shot with a cinematic eye by Meiert Avis, doesn’t shout—it lingers, matching the track’s icy resolve. Live, it acquires an anthem-like heft, often elevated by Bono’s weathered voice and sheer stage presence, making it a highlight of their performances from Live Aid to their modern-day tours. It’s not U2 at their most nuanced, but it is them grappling with global issues through a personal lens, which is where they tend to thrive. As for the remix attempts—“New Year’s Dub,” for instance—it’s reasonable to ask whether modernizing this vintage glacier of a song for dance floors was ever a good idea. Either way, “New Year’s Day” remains firmly planted in their live and broadcast catalog, a track that ages gracefully, even as its lyrical ambiguity keeps it slightly at arm’s length. Featured on the 1983 album “War “.
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![]() 9 . Deep Purple – Perfect Strangers“Perfect Strangers,” the title track of Deep Purple’s 1984 album, carves its distinctive niche within the hard rock lexicon. A reunion project for the Mk II lineup after over a decade apart, the song blends masterful musicianship with thematic weight. It’s a reflective piece, heavy with longing and the ache of missed connections, yet crafted to captivate arena audiences. Jon Lord’s Middle Eastern-inspired keyboard riff carries an almost hypnotic quality, setting the tone for the track. Ritchie Blackmore’s guitar work counters this with an understated yet potent grace, avoiding flamboyance but not lacking impact. Ian Gillan’s vocals stay restrained but evocative, delivering lines that feel like quiet reconciliations rather than impassioned howls. The track’s driving rhythm section, courtesy of Roger Glover and Ian Paice, keeps it taut and grounded, never meandering into indulgence. The production avoids the excesses often associated with mid-80s rock, retaining a crisp yet textured sound. Released under Polydor Records, the song reached respectable chart positions, though it wasn’t the commercial juggernaut some might expect. And yet, its lasting influence transcends numbers, cementing its position as a staple in Deep Purple’s live repertoire, where it continues to resonate decades later. The song’s music video is a time capsule of mid-’80s aesthetics, but its substance exceeds its glossy wrapping. In the pantheon of Deep Purple’s catalog, “Perfect Strangers” occupies a space that feels both intimate and grand, a track less of bombast and more of carefully layered artistry. Featured on the 1984 album “Perfect Strangers”.
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![]() 10 . Cameo – Skin I’m InCameo’s “Skin I’m In” from their 1979 release, *Secret Omen*, is a slice of late ’70s funk that struts with a sense of purpose. While the track itself never got the standalone-single treatment, its home album went gold and cemented Cameo as architects of R&B evolution during the disco twilight. The song weaves an unmistakable bassline with snappy brass accents, forming a groove-forward narrative that digs into themes of identity and self-worth. Larry Blackmon, the band’s charismatic leader, anchors the track with his signature delivery—a mix of grit and flair that could only come from a group confident in its forward-thinking direction. The lyrical content leans introspective, grappling with the pressures of societal expectations, a theme that feels timeless without trying too hard to moralize. “Skin I’m In” lives in the pocket, eschewing bombast for a slick, measured approach, yet it still screams of a band willing to innovate within funk’s core framework. While not the track to catapult them up charts, its place in Cameo’s live sets hinted at its resonance with fans who craved more than just dancefloor anthems. The song has retroactively gained traction, thanks to fan uploads and YouTube’s archival nature, a nod to the staying power of subtle funk craftsmanship over brash commercial pursuit. More than just a deep cut, “Skin I’m In” feels like a confident exhale from a band on the cusp of new-wave funk stardom—still grounded, still restless. Featured on the 1988 album “Machismo”.
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![]() 11 . Tanita Tikaram – Cathedral Song“Cathedral Song” by Tanita Tikaram is a meditation on melancholic yearning, captured in a delicate folk-rock framework. Hailing from her debut album *Ancient Heart* (1988), the track treads a fine line between poetic opacity and emotional accessibility. Its production, steered by Peter Van Hooke and Rod Argent, leans into an airy, unadorned arrangement, allowing Tikaram’s signature breathy vocals to take center stage. Thematically, the song depicts a push-pull dynamic of intimacy and distance, its sparse lyricism evoking inner conflict without veering into melodrama. While it didn’t storm the charts—peaking at #48 in the UK and #36 in the Netherlands—it garnered regional success, with Finland granting it a modest #17 spot. Critical reception often lauds its “dreamy ballad” tone, with Jerry Smith of *Music Week* highlighting its “wonderfully effective” simplicity. The monochrome music video, shot in Portugal, mirrors the song’s understated beauty, weaving a narrative of swimmers in tranquil surroundings while Tikaram appears in isolated studio footage. This juxtaposition enhances the song’s motif of connection and solitude. Years later, Brazilian artist Zélia Duncan’s cover added a new layer of geographic and emotional resonance, cementing the track’s adaptability. While not her most commercially viable offering, “Cathedral Song” remains a hauntingly evocative snapshot of Tikaram’s early artistic ambitions. |
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![]() 12 . Europe – The Final CountdownReleased in 1986, “The Final Countdown” by Swedish rock band Europe is a strange cocktail of soaring synths, bombastic theatrics, and unapologetic cheesiness that somehow made a permanent mark on global pop culture. Anchored by Joey Tempest’s larger-than-life vocals and Mic Michaeli’s keyboard wizardry, the track marries hard rock energy with an unmistakable earworm of a melody, setting it apart from its hair-metal peers. Originally conceived as a dramatic opener for concerts, no one expected the song’s escapist theme—an interstellar voyage to Venus, inspired by Bowie’s “Space Oddity”—to resonate quite so loudly across radio waves and arenas worldwide. It soared to No. 1 in 25 countries, fueled by an anthemic chorus that practically drips with ’80s excess, yet its US peak at No. 8 on the Billboard Hot 100 subtly highlights the tension between critical disdain and public adoration. The accompanying music video—equal parts concert footage from Solnahallen and cinematic shots of Stockholm—basks in its era’s extravagant aesthetic and now boasts over a billion YouTube views, transforming its kitschy DNA into nostalgic gold for multiple generations. Despite its success, the track polarizes listeners; some hail it as the quintessential arena anthem, while others smirk at its overwrought dramatics and unabashed self-indulgence. Critics often dismiss Europop-rock fusion efforts as lacking depth, yet few can deny the song’s endurance, cropping up in everything from sports arenas to various pop media like “Arrested Development” and “Pitch Perfect.” Though Europe has shifted toward more serious themes in their later work—such as the quasi-sequel “Pictures” on their 2017 album “Walk the Earth”—nothing else they’ve produced has captured the cultural zeitgeist quite like this exuberant, keyboard-drenched fever dream of a track. Featured on the 1986 album “The Final Countdown”.
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