‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ N°329 – Vintage 90s Music Videos
Extreme, Placebo, Def Leppard, R.E.M., Bally Sagoo, The Bluetones, Green Day, Dinosaur Jr, Unkle, The Cramps, Inaura, Faith No More
They are the performers of twelve vintage amusing, puzzling and sometimes shocking videos of songs that were ranked in various charts, this week (07/52) 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 07/52 – click here and here
Tracklist
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![]() 1 . Extreme – Tragic Comic“Tragic Comic,” released on January 25, 1993, as the final single from Extreme’s third studio album, “III Sides to Every Story,” occupies an intriguing corner of the band’s catalog. Penned by guitarist Nuno Bettencourt and vocalist Gary Cherone, and produced by Bettencourt alongside Bob St. John, it weaves humor, romance, and self-deprecation into a rock framework grounded in E major. The reliance on chords like E, A, and B provides a solid, if predictable, foundation, with occasional augmented chords injecting moments of tonal sophistication. Yet, for all its structural nuances, the song’s charm largely leans on its lyrical narrative—a hapless protagonist tripping through love’s pitfalls with a blend of earnestness and comedic timing. The accompanying black-and-white music video amplifies this awkward yet endearing energy, casting Cherone as an overzealous romantic attempting to woo a neighbor, while the rest of the band performs gamely on a balcony. Predictably outrageous, it caps off with the object of affection tumbling down an elevator shaft—a closing note that feels as absurd as it does grimly comic. Charting at number 15 in the UK, “Tragic Comic” marked Extreme’s final top 40 presence there, while more modest peaks of 85 in Canada and 52 on the Eurochart Hot 100 signaled the group’s waning global momentum. While “More Than Words” from their 1990 album “Pornograffitti” solidified their place in early-’90s rock, this song’s blend of playful irony and earnest intent falls short of the same enduring resonance. What stands out is Bettencourt’s musicianship undercut slightly by a lightness that sometimes caresses clever but flirts with trivial, leaving “Tragic Comic” adrift between charm and inconsequence. Featured on the 1992 album “III Sides to Every Story”.
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![]() 2 . Placebo – Come Home“Come Home,” the 1996 single from Placebo’s self-titled debut, captures the restless energy of a fledgling band carving out its identity between alternative rock, pop-punk, and emo signposts. Clocking in at 4:40, the track feels like an open letter written in jagged lines, with Brian Molko’s androgynous vocals slicing through Stefan Olsdal’s brooding basslines and Robert Schultzberg’s relentless drumming. Produced by Brad Wood, who lends the track a raw yet polished edge, “Come Home” treads a tightrope between angst and urgency. Molko’s delivery oscillates between a snarl and a wail, encapsulating the raw emotional tenacity Placebo would go on to refine in later works like “Without You I’m Nothing” and “Sleeping with Ghosts.” Yet here, they sound like feral upstarts, clinging to a volatile mix of adolescent fury and nascent sophistication. The music video, set in a cramped, nondescript room, mirrors the song’s claustrophobic tension—a fitting visual for a track that seems to uncoil and snap back on itself. Despite its qualities, “Come Home” only managed to scrape into the UK Singles Chart at number 86, a modest reception that belied the band’s future prominence. The accompanying tracks on the CD release, “Drowning by Numbers” and “Oxygen Thief,” extend the listening experience, though they lack the same brash immediacy. Molko, Olsdal, and Schultzberg’s collective effort hints at Placebo’s potential, even if the song doesn’t fully escape the shadow of its influences. From a personnel perspective, Fulton Dingley and Miki Moore’s engineering subtly elevate the sonics, while Adam Maynard and Alex Weston craft an understated aesthetic through their cover art and photography. “Come Home” serves as a raw, imperfect sketch of what Placebo would become—both a prelude and a challenge to outstrip its own limitations. Featured on the 1996 album “Placebo”.
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![]() 3 . Def Leppard – Heaven IsReleased as a single in January 1993, “Heaven Is” reflects Def Leppard’s enduring knack for crafting polished hard rock, its origins firmly rooted in their *Adrenalize* album. The song’s backing vocals evoke comparisons to The Beach Boys, a touch that Joe Elliott himself acknowledges, though he provocatively describes it as being “More Queen than Queen.” Not content with simplicity, the guitar riff—pieced together over years and borrowing fragments from “Armageddon It,” according to Phil Collen—adds a sense of déjà vu that might intrigue long-time fans yet risk feeling overly recycled to others. Peaking at number 13 on the UK Singles Chart and hitting number 24 in Ireland, the track performed adequately but didn’t exactly ignite the charts. The accompanying music video, however, failed to win over Elliott, who has unambiguously voiced his dislike for it in retrospective discussions. Available in multiple formats, from CD to picture disc, the single’s live B-sides, such as a lively rendition of “Let’s Get Rocked” recorded in Bonn, Germany, and a 1987 cover of Alice Cooper’s “Elected” from Tilburg, Netherlands, showcase the band’s flair for delivering dynamic live performances. Though lacking the seismic impact of Def Leppard’s earlier hits, “Heaven Is” stands as a serviceable addition to their catalog, blending arena-ready harmonies with polished production under the label Bludgeon Riffola. Featured on the 1992 album “Adrenalize”.
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![]() 4 . R.E.M. – The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite“The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite,” released on February 1, 1993, as the third single from R.E.M.’s eighth studio album, “Automatic for the People,” poses as part homage and part idiosyncratic reinvention. Its DNA links unmistakably to the 1939 Solomon Linda-penned “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” which found Western fame through The Tokens in 1961. By purchasing the rights and recording a cover version for the single’s B-side, R.E.M. leans into this lineage with a mixture of reverence and irreverence, while diverging sharply in tone and substance. Michael Stipe’s evocative, occasionally cryptic vocals sit atop the band’s distinctive alternative rock backbone, adding an unpredictability that shapes the listening experience. The title’s eccentricity matches a lyricism that almost dares the listener to grasp the meaning, its irony as layered as the song’s instrumentation. In true R.E.M. fashion, the track feels less designed for mass consumption than it does for personal interpretation—though its chart performance suggests otherwise. It climbed to number 1 in Iceland, broke the top 20 in both Ireland and the UK, and reached number 29 in New Zealand. Curiously, despite its commercial success, the band chose to sideline it from their live repertoire. That absence might underscore an underlying tension; polished yet elusive, it’s a song more at home in headphones than under stage lights. Its modest chart peaks mirror its peculiar personality: noticeable but never overpowering within the band’s sprawling discography, a moment of levity in an album otherwise steeped in elegiac tones and introspection. Featured on the 1992 album “Automatic for the People“.
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![]() 5 . Bally Sagoo – Tum Bin Jiya“Tum Bin Jiya,” a track from Bally Sagoo’s 1996 album “Rising From The East,” occupies a unique place in the British-Asian music canon. With Shabnam Majid’s vocals layering over lyrics penned by SM Sadiq, the song manages to be both traditional and forward-facing, threading cultural authenticity into a distinctly modern production. Its success on the Official UK Singles Chart, peaking at number 21 in February 1997, is historic, marking the first Hindi-language song to break into the UK mainstream charts—an achievement more symbolic than merely statistical. The track’s crossover appeal was further amplified by a live performance on the BBC’s National Lottery show, a platform not typically associated with Asian music, let alone one entirely in Hindi. Positioned within Bally Sagoo’s broader body of work, “Tum Bin Jiya” captures his knack for straddling multiple musical worlds: blending the rhythms and textures of South Asia with the hooks and immediacy of contemporary genres like pop and electronic music. Yet, for all its innovations, the track falls into an ambiguous zone—neither purely nostalgic nor entirely adventurous. It leans heavily on Majid’s poignant delivery, which, while engaging, often feels weighed down by an overly familiar melodic structure. Sagoo’s production, though sleek, lacks the audacious spark seen in earlier collaborations such as “Choli Ke Peeche” or even the genre-defining “Dil Cheez.” Still, its cultural importance is undeniable, a testament to Sagoo’s ability to connect a niche sound with wider audiences in pre-globalization Britain. Even if the song doesn’t always withstand repeat listenings, its historical resonance within Sagoo’s career and South Asian representation in a Western musical arena ensures it remains part of the conversation. Featured on the 1996 album “Rising from the East”.
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![]() 6 . The Bluetones – Slight Return“Slight Return” clocks in at a precise 3:21, yet its compact runtime doesn’t stop The Bluetones from leaving an imprint indicative of their mid-’90s rise within the indie rock wave. Pulled from their debut album “Expecting to Fly,” the track epitomizes the band’s polished yet unpretentious songwriting. Recorded at Ridge Farm in Surrey under the guidance of producer Hugh Jones, it combines an introspective lyrical core with a melodic sensibility reflecting the English indie ethos of the time. Vocalist Mark Morriss delivers each line with restrained conviction, a style that sidesteps melodrama in favor of bittersweet clarity. The title, curiously borrowed from Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child (Slight Return),” hints at a self-awareness—or perhaps a lack thereof—when it comes to naming conventions. Still, it suits the track’s understated nature, much like its initial 1995 release on limited-run blue vinyl, which suggests both nostalgia and exclusivity. On its reissue as a single in 1996, “Slight Return” soared to number two on the UK Singles Chart, marking the band’s commercial zenith. This success underscores the deft collaboration of its writing credits, shared among Eds Chesters, Adam Devlin, and the Morriss brothers, Mark and Scott. The track’s crisp production complements their influences, which reportedly span Buffalo Springfield to The Stone Roses, though its restrained delivery avoids outright homage. Still, there’s a sense that its brilliance lies in its simplicity rather than invention. Its cleanly arranged guitar riffs and plaintive basslines contribute to its appeal but rarely push boundaries. The track plays like a slice of quiet triumph, a reminder of how far precision and mood can take a band, even if it doesn’t upend expectations. And perhaps that’s the most English thing about it. Featured on the 1996 album “Expecting to Fly “.
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![]() 7 . Green Day – Good Riddance [Time Of Your Life]“Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” from Green Day’s 1997 album “Nimrod” marks a stylistic detour for the band, trading in their punk roots for an acoustic earnestness that feels both disarming and calculated. Produced by Rob Cavallo, the track integrates strings—a late suggestion by Cavallo—recorded hastily while the band busied themselves with foosball. This whimsical production anecdote contrasts sharply with the song’s reflective subject matter, as Billie Joe Armstrong confronts the emotional fallout of a failed relationship, weaving between pain, rejection, and a reluctant acceptance. The opening mistakes in the album version lend the song a humanizing quirk, though their omission in radio edits and the Mark Kohr-directed video seems a concession to polish over sincerity. Visually, the video juxtaposes Armstrong’s solitary performance with vignettes of mundane life, grounding the song’s universal appeal in everyday banality. Its chart performance—peaking at number 11 on the UK Singles Chart and lingering for five weeks—signals its reach, though its subsequent role as a prom staple and nostalgic concert closer suggests it has been burdened, perhaps unfairly, with meanings far beyond Armstrong’s original aim. Armstrong’s goodbye to an ex somehow morphed into a generational soundtrack, whether or not it fits. Winning an MTV Video Music Award for Best Alternative Video in 1998 underlines its cultural weight, though one might question whether its reflective lyrics genuinely carry the depth listeners project onto them or if their simplicity leaves them open to overinterpretation. Where punk demanded rebellion, “Good Riddance” extends an olive branch, if a slightly rehearsed one. Featured on the 1997 album “Nimrod“.
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![]() 8 . Dinosaur Jr – I Don’t Think So“I Don’t Think So,” a late-career single by Dinosaur Jr., sits as a modest gem in the album “Without a Sound,” released in 1994. Positioned as the follow-up to “Feel the Pain,” the song carries the weight of expectations without quite shouldering it. Crafted by J Mascis, who produced and wrote the track, “I Don’t Think So” is as introspective as it is unassuming. Mascis’s distinctive blend of mournful vocals and fuzzed guitar tones showcases technical skill but feels restrained compared to earlier, more visceral works. Without Murph on drums—replaced by George Berz—the rhythmic foundation feels more functional than dynamic, resulting in a track that meanders between melancholy and monotony. Its brief stint on the UK Singles Chart, peaking at 67, underlines its limited resonance despite the album’s commercial performance. The context surrounding the track adds layers, though they feel more relevant to the album than the single. Mascis faced personal challenges, including the loss of his father, during the creation of “Without a Sound,” and that emotional weight translates into the music’s subdued texture. Yet as a standalone piece, “I Don’t Think So” struggles to carve out a distinct space, lacking the sharp hooks or raw urgency that define Dinosaur Jr.’s best work. Ultimately, the song reflects a band at a transitional point in their history—grappling with change but, perhaps, too cautious to transcend it. What’s left is a competent yet forgettable entry in a discography defined by its restless energy and sonic ambition. Featured on the 1994 album “Without a Sound”.
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![]() 9 . Unkle – Be There“Be There,” from Unkle’s *Psyence Fiction*, is an emblematic product of late-90s British electronica, filtered through the eclectic sensibilities of James Lavelle and DJ Shadow. Much of its resonance comes from Ian Brown’s haunting, monotone delivery, which feels less like singing and more like a ghostly chant hovering over DJ Shadow’s meticulously crafted instrumental. Functionally, the song reinterprets “Unreal”—an instrumental from the same album—infusing it with a human presence that adds both intrigue and weight. Brown’s off-kilter vocal presence aligns perfectly with the song’s trip-hop DNA, giving it an atmosphere that’s eerie yet oddly magnetic. The track’s release in 1999, packaged across multiple formats and elevated by cross-genre contributions from names like Noel Gallagher and Thom Yorke, reflects Unkle’s collaborative ethos. Still, the song’s biggest strength might be its simplicity; Shadow’s production avoids clutter, keeping the focus on texture and mood over unnecessary flourish. The music video, directed by Jake Scott, further underscores its nocturnal energy, with Emma Griffiths Malin’s subdued performance at the Mornington Crescent tube station offering a visual echo to the song’s brooding aesthetic. While it achieved commercial success, climbing to number 8 on the UK Singles Chart, it’s the understated melancholy woven through its downtempo beats that truly cements its status as a highlight of Unkle’s catalog. However, those expecting dynamic shifts or a broader narrative arc might find themselves wanting; “Be There” thrives in mood but treads cautiously when it comes to risk-taking, staying firmly rooted in its melancholic groove. Featured on the 1998 album “Psyence Fiction”.
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![]() 10 . The Cramps – Bikini Girls With Machine Guns“Bikini Girls With Machine Guns,” a standout track from The Cramps’ 1989 album “Stay Sick,” epitomizes the band’s audacious shift in lyrical focus toward sardonic sexual innuendo, leaving their earlier reliance on B-movie horror imagery trailing in its wake. Lux Interior’s frenzied yelps, paired with Poison Ivy’s gritty, twang-laden guitar riffs, highlight the sharp amalgamation of punk energy and rockabilly swagger that defined the psychobilly genre they helped pioneer. The track wields its swagger unapologetically, its title embodying a campy double-edged rebellion that revels in absurd excess with a wink and a sneer. Originally released through Enigma Records, “Bikini Girls With Machine Guns” plays like a greasy exploitation flick cranked out on a sun-fried afternoon—chaotic, self-aware, and dripping with deliberate absurdity. Its infectious, pounding rhythm garnered it commercial attention, helping “Stay Sick” peak at No. 62 on the UK Albums Chart in February 1990, a notable feat for the defiantly niche band. The accompanying music video, also released under Enigma, translates the song’s cartoonish menace into visuals, yet the spectacle doesn’t stretch much further than parody. Unlike the cathartic unpredictability of The Cramps’ legendary live gigs—such as their notorious 1978 performance at Napa’s State Mental Hospital—this track’s novelty verges on kitsch, its replay value tethered to its gleeful ridiculousness more than its musical depth. “Bikini Girls With Machine Guns” now sits comfortably as a fan favorite, bolstered by a solid 5.5 million Spotify streams as of late. But what it delivers in raucous energy, it occasionally lacks in nuance, leaning harder on its camp aesthetic than its musical craftsmanship. The Cramps’ influence over the broader punk and garage rock orbit remains as audacious as ever, though this track is more a cultish exclamation point than a quietly meaningful footnote in their otherwise genre-defining catalog. Featured on the 1990 album “Stay Sick! “.
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![]() 11 . Inaura – Soap Opera“Soap Opera,” from Inaura’s 1998 album “One Million Smiles,” artfully balances 80s synth-pop sensibilities with the grit of indie rock, resulting in a track that feels both familiar and intriguingly unexpected. Released as a single in 1996, the song doesn’t shy away from flaunting its electronic elements, which complement its alternative guitar-driven foundation rather than compete with it. This duality—the interweaving of analog bite and digital shimmer—underscores the band’s distinctive approach to genre fusion, though one could argue it occasionally teeters on the edge of over-polished. Its music video, directed and edited by Jim Wilson, captures a sense of thematic duality as well, juxtaposing the opulence of Soho’s Madame JoJo’s club with the stark entropy of an abandoned government office in Bangkok. Both settings serve as apt metaphors for a track wrestling between glitzy allure and an undercurrent of decay. Inaura, despite struggling commercially during the Britpop-dominated mid-90s, manages to inject a dose of pop immediacy into “Soap Opera.” Tracks like this—and “Desire”—stand as quiet testaments to their capacity for creating hooks that linger long after the final note. Yet, there’s an irony in its appeal; some might find the song’s polished delivery and overt catchiness almost too calculated, as if Inaura were crafting their hooks knowing they’d likely float just beneath mainstream radar. In hindsight, their sound feels ahead of its time, a precursor to the 2000s’ fascination with blending rock and electronic textures. While the production and composition of “Soap Opera” reveal a meticulous attention to detail, it’s easy to wonder if Inaura’s fate would’ve been different had they been released into a music landscape ready to embrace their layered, genre-bending approach. Featured on the 1996 album “One Million Smiles”.
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![]() 12 . Faith No More – Epic“Epic” from Faith No More’s 1990 album “The Real Thing” stands as a bristling collision of genres, equal parts chaos and control. Crafted largely by bassist Bill Gould with Mike Patton’s cryptic lyrical touch, the song feels cinematic, its grandiosity evoking imagery as vivid as a biblical parting of seas. Musically, it’s a devil-may-care amalgam of metal, funk, hip-hop, and rap, teetering between sharp-edged aggression and curious melody. Mike Bordin and Bill Gould ground the song in a relentless rhythmic churn, while Jim Martin’s guitars range from stamping riffs to a spiraling solo that nods toward harder rock tropes. Roddy Bottum’s keyboards add an off-kilter texture, bridging the track’s disparate sensibilities in unexpected ways. Patton is both arsonist and poet here, hurling shouts and chants before pivoting to an oddly haunting, melodic hook. His lyrics, enigmatic and layered, pivot around a maddeningly undefined “it,” leaving interpretations as diverse as the track itself—sex, religion, power, all as plausible as nothing at all. Chartwise, “Epic” conquers and polarizes, peaking at No. 9 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and ruling the Australian charts at No. 1, while only reaching No. 25 in the UK, a mild stumble in comparison. For Faith No More, the track becomes both crown jewel and gilded cage—its unwavering popularity ensures its place as a live staple, even as its ubiquity breeds exhaustion among the band. If “Epic” has a flaw, it may be that its patchwork design risks dissonance, demanding patience from the unprepared listener. But within its imperfections lies part of its charm—a piece that sounds like a band not just crossing genres but refusing to acknowledge their boundaries at all. Featured on the 1989 album “The Real Thing“.
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