‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ N°324 – Vintage 80s Music Videos

1 . Robert Plant – Heaven Knows

Robert Plant’s “Heaven Knows” captures the late ’80s fusion of classic rock swagger and the emerging sheen of modern production, standing as a significant marker in his post-Led Zeppelin trajectory.

The track, penned by Phil Johnstone and David Barratt, leans heavily on layered synths and rhythmic precision, boasting a melodic structure that feels rooted in familiarity but cloaked in an era-specific gloss.

What prevents it from drifting into faceless pop-rock territory is Jimmy Page’s unmistakable guitar solo—a brief but potent reminder of Plant’s legendary past, carefully woven into a forward-looking framework.

Commercially, the song performed well—not dominant enough to redefine Plant’s solo career but substantial in reinforcing his viability as a solo act, far removed from Zeppelin’s rugged mystique.

The accompanying video, a surreal montage of desert wanderings and bustling bazaars, feels both of its time and oddly disconnected, much like the track itself—a mix of ambition and self-aware eccentricity.

Featured on the 1988 album “Now and Zen“.

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2 . The Vapors – Turning Japanese

Released in 1980, “Turning Japanese” by The Vapors is an emblem of the new wave era, marked by its jagged guitars, punchy rhythm, and unmistakably mischievous energy.

The track managed to burrow into global charts, clinching the number three spot in the UK and rising to number one in Australia, while making appearances across North America and New Zealand just for good measure.

Written by David Fenton, the lyrics present a kaleidoscope of confusion and heartbreak, centering on a man grappling with the void left by a lost love.

Over the years, the song has sparked endless debates due to its perceived—and misunderstood—undertones, with Fenton repeatedly dispelling the salacious interpretations.

The reference to “Japanese” is more symbolic than cultural, a choice rooted in artistic whim rather than geopolitical commentary, though the music video’s kitschy Japanese motifs complicate that claim.

Musically, it’s a brisk punch to the solar plexus, straddling the line between playful parody and sincere yearning, escorted by an earworm of a chorus that’s almost obnoxiously catchy.

The Vapors, a band otherwise resigned to the land of one-hit wonders, captured lightning in a bottle with this track, cementing their brief but potent presence in the annals of rock history.

Legacy-wise, “Turning Japanese” resurfaces sporadically, from TV retrospectives to cover band setlists, its jagged charm refusing to dim with time.

It remains both a snapshot of its era and a peculiar outlier—a cheerful mishap forever lodged in the folds of pop’s more curious corners.

Featured on the 1980 album “New Clear Days”.

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3 . Bad Manners – Lorraine

Bad Manners’ “Lorraine” is a ska-fueled ditty that struts unapologetically through the band’s signature two-tone sound, flanked by boisterous brass and a rhythm section on perpetual overdrive.

Released in 1981, it carves its place in the album “Loonee Tunes!” and stakes a claim as part of the band’s early ’80s chart-topping streak, lingering at no. 21 in both the UK and Ireland.

Buster Bloodvessel’s gruff, cartoonishly exaggerated vocals inject equal doses of charm and absurdity, creating the kind of theatricality that made Bad Manners a staple on shows like “Top of the Pops” and “Tiswas.”

Musically, “Lorraine” leans heavily on the ska blueprint but refuses to take itself too seriously, layering staccato rhythms and elastic basslines with punchy horns that feel ready to burst out of the speakers.

If ska is often accused of recycling itself, “Lorraine” counters with a wink, reveling in its air of cheeky humor and infectious momentum.

The lack of a standalone music video hasn’t dulled the track’s enduring appeal, which thrives in the sweaty, chaotic energy of live performances and its inclusion in ska anthologies.

It’s a song that doesn’t try to transcend its genre but instead playfully doubles down, serving as both a time capsule of the 2-tone era and a tongue-in-cheek celebration of ska’s quirks and idiosyncrasies.

Bad Manners may never match the mainstream polish of their contemporaries, but “Lorraine” is all the better for its ragged charm, scoffing at perfection and embracing imperfections with open arms—and a trombone blast.

Featured on the 1980 album “Loonee Tunes!”.

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4 . Rocky Sharpe & The Replays – Martian Hop

“Martian Hop” by Rocky Sharpe & The Replays strikes an odd balance between playful nostalgia and extraterrestrial imagination.

This track, a 1980 cover of The Ran-Dells’ 1963 novelty hit, transports listeners to a fictional Martian dance gathering, propelled by its quirky theme and distinct doo-wop harmony.

Retaining the original’s sine wave-generated “spacey” sound effects, the reimagined version leans heavily on the group’s signature homage to 1950s and 1960s vocal styles.

While the song’s retro charm feels intentional, it never quite reaches the energetic heights of Sharpe & The Replays’ standout hits like “Rama Lama Ding Dong.”

Nevertheless, the lighthearted extraterrestrial theme and vocal layering provide a kitschy charm that aligns with the group’s mission to refresh mid-century music staples for their 1980s audience.

On the charts, it didn’t soar beyond a modest landing at number 55 in the UK, reflecting its niche appeal but solidifying its place as a curiosity in their discography.

Featured on the 1980 album “Rock-It-To Mars”.

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5 . Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark – Red Frame/White Light

“Red Frame/White Light” stands as a peculiar snapshot of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’s early experiments, a song that seems as much about its synthesizer as the story behind it.

Released in February 1980, the track encapsulates a seemingly mundane relic of British life—a red telephone box in Wirral—immortalized through electronic quirks and minimalist lyrical fragments.

What makes this track memorable is not its chart position, which peaked at an unremarkable number 67, but its ability to turn a static object into an odd kind of protagonist.

Musically, it leans heavily on a looping synth hook, suggesting an era when studio technology still felt novel, almost magical, to its wielders.

The vocal delivery is sparse, almost disinterested, yet somehow that detachment adds to the song’s charm, resonating with the banality of organizing gigs from a phone box.

The accompanying video, a curious piece of archival history directed by Russell Mulcahy, was long thought lost before its reemergence in 2008—a near-perfect metaphor for much of OMD’s enduring but off-kilter appeal.

Revisited during the band’s 40th-anniversary shows nearly four decades later, it’s a moment of nostalgia not just for fans but for an analog world now swallowed by digital immediacy.

There’s something strangely poetic about a track so tied to communication becoming a historical artifact itself, its inspiration spot repainted by devoted admirers as if to guard its ghostly legacy.

Featured on the 1980 album “Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark”.

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6 . China Crisis – Best Kept Secret

Somewhere between polished ambition and introspective charm lies “Best Kept Secret,” a 1987 offering from China Crisis that caps their streak of top-40 flirtations in the UK charts.

Emerging from their album *What Price Paradise*, the track captures the band’s transition from post-punk roots to a smoother, synth-pop veneer that seems tailor-made for late-’80s playlists without overstaying its welcome.

Equal parts lush and melancholy, the song sidesteps bombast in favor of measured sophistication, buoyed by intricate production courtesy of Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley—the architects behind the album’s sleek, radio-friendly sonics.

Lyrically subdued but evocative, it reflects the band’s knack for understatement, a quality that might explain why they remained cult favorites rather than chart conquerors.

Alongside tracks like “Arizona Sky,” this single anchors an album that subtly glances toward commercial aspirations while retaining an art-pop core that resists full immersion in mainstream waters.

It’s not an anthem nor a revelation, but rather a quiet testimony to the layered evolution of a band who, despite shifting trends, carved out their corner of melodic introspection.

Featured on the 1986 album “What Price Paradise”.

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7 . Scorpions – Rock You Like A Hurricane

“Rock You Like a Hurricane” emerges as a quintessential hard rock track that epitomizes the audacious energy of the 1980s.

Its thunderous riffs, penned by Klaus Meine, Herman Rarebell, and Rudolf Schenker, embody the genre’s flair for brashness and volume.

Opening with a staggering guitar line, the song’s structure is a masterclass in calculated chaos – each screaming note designed to grab you by the collar and demand attention.

The production, courtesy of Dieter Dierks, balances bombast with clarity, ensuring that nothing gets lost in the electrifying barrage.

Released as the lead single from Scorpions’ “Love at First Sting,” this track instantly carved its place in rock culture.

Charting respectably across geographies, it also enjoyed heavy circulation on MTV, leveraging the channel’s growing appetite for visually charged music.

Lyrically, it’s unabashedly indulgent, staying true to rock’s swagger-filled canon, with an anthem-like quality that feels larger than life.

Its legacy is cemented not only in accolades – ranked by VH1 among the best hard rock songs – but also through countless pop culture appearances, from zombie films to animated blockbusters.

While not revolutionary, it thrives in its celebration of the genre’s excesses, unapologetically leaning into every riff, scream, and hook with reckless abandon.

In a decade brimming with ambitious experimentation and evolving musical styles, “Rock You Like a Hurricane” opts for raw power – unapologetic, unrelenting, and unforgettable.

Featured on the 1984 album “Love at First Sting”.

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8 . The Sugarcubes – Cold Sweat

“Cold Sweat” by The Sugarcubes is a sharp-edged burst of avant-pop energy, showcasing the band’s penchant for blending chaotic post-punk experimentation with hooks that manage to be both jarring and catchy.

The track, pulled from their 1988 debut “Life’s Too Good,” marries Björk’s piercingly unique vocal delivery—alternating between ethereal coos and almost primal shrieks—with Einar Örn’s disjointed, erratic interjections.

The song’s structure channels a teetering instability, as if every beat and riff might collapse under its own weight, yet somehow it all holds together with an odd sense of purpose.

Its layered production, rife with angular guitar stabs and a kinetic rhythm, mirrors the group’s knack for fusing chaos and precision in an era when indie music was leaning heavily into homogeneity.

Chart-wise, the track punctuated the band’s ascendancy in the indie scene, grabbing the top spot on the UK Indie Chart, even as its broader commercial appeal remained elusive at number 56 on the more mainstream UK Singles Chart.

“Cold Sweat” also had its impact beyond 1988, flaunting punk credentials adaptable enough to later be reinterpreted by industrial rock outfit Diatribe in 1993.

The Sugarcubes didn’t just make songs; they created small avalanches of sound that demanded attention—even if some listeners found themselves unsure of what hit them.

Featured on the 1988 album “Life’s Too Good”.

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9 . Stevie Nicks – I Can’t Wait

Stevie Nicks’ “I Can’t Wait” captures the mid-’80s pop-rock spirit with a sharp edge and driving energy.

Coming from her third solo album, *Rock a Little*, released in 1985, the track reflects the decade’s love for bold percussion and shiny production.

The collaboration between Nicks, Rick Nowels, and Eric Pressly manifests in a layered, urgent sound that holds up against her earlier works.

Its chart success, peaking at No. 16 on the Billboard Hot 100, feels like a moment of recognition for its infectious, restless pulse.

The production highlights Nicks’ emotive vocal delivery, recorded in a single studio session—something she calls a rare occurrence.

Roy Bittan’s synthesizer work pairs with Russ Kunkel’s confident drumming to fortify the track’s backbone, while Waddy Wachtel’s guitar adds texture without overwhelming the mix.

The multi-faceted backing vocals from Sharon Celani and Lori Nicks provide an ethereal counterpoint, lifting key sections.

The accompanying Marty Callner-directed music video leans into the cinematic, meshing surreal visuals and the unapologetically glossy style the era demanded.

“I Can’t Wait” positions itself as both a testament to Nicks’ adaptability and a snapshot of a moment when pop and rock danced on the same neon-lit floor.

Featured on the 1985 album “Rock a Little”.

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10 . Gaye Bykers On Acid – Hot Thing

“Hot Thing” by Gaye Bykers On Acid is a vibrant snapshot of the late ’80s grebo scene, blending punk aggression with a pop edge.

Released in 1989 under Virgin Records, the single channels the band’s chaotic energy and penchant for experimentation.

Included on their album “Stewed to the Gills,” this track showcases their knack for pushing genre boundaries while embracing a rebellious, tongue-in-cheek attitude.

The band’s colorful personas, often performing in drag or under pseudonyms like “Rektüm,” reflect their irreverent approach to music and cultural norms.

“Hot Thing” stands as a chaotic collision of fuzzy guitar riffs, raw vocals, and a relentless pace, embodying the high-octane spirit of the grebo movement.

Their 1989 tour, which hit venues like Newcastle Riverside and Edinburgh University, placed the song in the communal, sweat-drenched spaces it was meant to inhabit.

While not a mainstream success, the track remains a time capsule of a genre unafraid to embrace absurdity and audacity in equal measure.

Featured on the 1989 album “Stewed To The Gills…”.

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11 . Heaven 17 – And That’s No Lie

Released in early 1985, Heaven 17’s “And That’s No Lie” adds an ambitious flair to the synth-pop landscape of their time.

Emerging as the third single from their album “How Men Are,” the song positions itself both musically and thematically as a layered critique on societal norms, pairing glossy production with underlying tension.

Co-written by band members Glenn Gregory, Ian Craig Marsh, and Martyn Ware, its rich orchestration features contributions by external musicians, including orchestral arrangements by David Cullen and soulful backing vocals from Afrodiziak.

The track blends synth-driven motifs with traditional instrumentation, like Ray Russell’s understated guitar and John Wilson’s bass spine.

While its lyrics appear to dissect disillusionment, the glossy sheen of the melody suggests a paradox between its lush sonics and pointed commentary.

The 12-inch version stretches to an indulgent ten minutes, offering a remix aimed more at clubs than radio, while the Heaven 17 Megamix accompanying certain editions offers a self-reflective montage of the band’s previous works.

Chart performance, particularly in the UK and Ireland, was modest but respectable for a genre often caught between populist hooks and intellectualized intent.

Its music video, while somewhat dated in execution, underscores the band’s penchant for meticulous presentation.

“And That’s No Lie” ultimately stands as an encapsulation of Heaven 17’s ability to juxtapose biting narrative with opulent arrangements, all the while blurring the line between earnest expression and irony.

Featured on the 1984 album “How Men Are”.

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12 . Bauhaus – Lagartija Nick

“Lagartija Nick” by Bauhaus stands as a curious artifact within the band’s gothic rock canon, delivered as a standalone single in early 1983—its detachment from any major album somehow adding to its mystique.

The track is laced with an energetic tension, pairing angular, jagged guitar lines with Peter Murphy’s menacing, theatrical vocal delivery.

Its origins as a reworked version of the earlier “Bite My Hip” nod to the band’s ability to recycle raw material into something darker, sharper, and far more cryptic than its predecessor.

Lyrically, it dances through devilish imagery and literary allusions, name-checking Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, whose writings birthed the term “masochism,” and channeling a narrative that feels both esoteric and feverish.

The title’s use of a vintage Spanish phrase underscores Bauhaus’s knack for injecting a sense of exoticism into their already shadowy aesthetic.

The accompanying B-sides range from the chaotic chortle of “Watch That Grandad Go” to the paranoid unease of “Paranoia, Paranoia,” giving the single a scattershot yet fascinating range.

Moments like their live version of “In the Flat Field” on the 12″ press provide a glimpse of their live energy, capturing the controlled chaos of their Paris performance.

Peaking modestly at #44 on the UK Singles Chart, the song’s brief chart life belies its enduring grit, as it manages to leave an eerie imprint on anyone willing to engage with its murky layers.

Bauhaus’s appearance on “Top of the Pops” with this single is as bizarre as it is significant; their brooding theatrics seem nearly comical when juxtaposed with the glitzy, sanitized atmosphere of mid-’80s British television.

Though ultimately overshadowed by their more enduring classics, “Lagartija Nick” occupies a strange, jagged corner of Bauhaus’s discography, reminding listeners of their penchant for balancing art-school experimentation with an almost punk rock irreverence.

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