‘Vous Avez Dit Bizarre’ N°546 – Vintage 90s Music Videos

1 . Elastica – Line Up

“Line Up,” the second single from Elastica’s self-titled debut album, stands as a quintessential snapshot of mid-’90s Britpop swagger, albeit with a punk rock edge.

The song, penned by Justine Frischmann and produced by the band itself, combines bristling energy with a tightly wound structure that reflects their influences—punk, post-punk, and new wave—without veering into mere homage.

Released on 31 January 1994 under Deceptive Records, “Line Up” managed to carve out a respectable place on the UK Singles Chart, peaking at No. 20 on 12 February. Its brief, three-week tenure speaks less to a lack of impact and more to the oversaturated musical landscape of the time.

The single’s accompanying B-sides, such as “Vaseline” (Demo Version) and two Peel Session recordings, “Rockunroll” and “Annie,” reveal a band both playful and fiercely uncompromising in their DIY ethos. Meanwhile, the Australian CD adds three extra tracks—”Gloria,” “Car Wash,” and “Brighton Rock”—hinting at a broader breadth than the taut runtime of the single itself might suggest.

What lends “Line Up” some additional cultural weight is its later presence on the soundtracks of films like *Mallrats* (1995) and *Not Another Teen Movie* (2001), embedding the track within the alternative zeitgeist of its decade. But even here, controversy follows; its resemblance to Wire’s “I Am the Fly” nods to broader accusations of plagiarism which dogged the band, reflecting the tension between inspiration and appropriation in their sound.

As for live performance, Elastica’s rise—captured in moments like the 1995 Glastonbury Festival and the Lollapalooza tour—adds a layer of vitality to “Line Up” that studio recordings alone could not fully convey. Yet for all their early energy, the pressures of touring and the mixed reception of their second album, *The Menace*, weighed heavily, leading to the band’s eventual dissolution in 2001.

Much like their debut’s meteoric ascent, “Line Up” thrives on immediacy, but it resists long-term comfort, its barbed hooks as restless as the band that created it.

Featured on the 1995 album “Elastica“.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Wikipedia

2 . Days Of The New – Touch Peel And Stand

“Touch, Peel and Stand,” from Days of the New’s 1997 self-titled debut, bridges the gap between grunge’s fading roar and an acoustic inclination that feels strangely solitary in its headspace.

Hitting number one on Billboard’s Rock Chart for an unprecedented 17 weeks, the track’s commercial success says volumes about its knack for tapping into alternative rock’s more introspective undercurrents while sidestepping the abrasion typical of the era.

The combination of acoustic guitars and Travis Meeks’s menacing vocal delivery creates tension, its gravity amplified in the accompanying music video—an image of charismatic gloom that played on MTV in heavy rotation, bringing Meeks’s raw talent to a mainstream audience.

Stylistically, it leans into grunge aesthetics but pares them down, trading aggression for resignation. The result feels less like rebellion and more like a stark confessional, which makes their subsequent touring lineup with Metallica and Jerry Cantrell seem like an awkward mismatch—a point Meeks himself later lamented, pointing out the band’s divergence from more traditional rock theatrics, suggesting a more natural alignment with acts like Dave Matthews instead.

The song’s endurance owes as much to the resonance of its stripped-down approach as to its historical timing, with a genre ready to evolve and a listener base willing to follow it there. Yet, its emotional intensity is less a revelation than a mood, skillfully sustained but perhaps too static to fully exploit its promising beginnings.

Featured on the 1997 album “Days of the New”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Wikipedia

3 . The Proclaimers – Let’s Get Married

“Let’s Get Married” by The Proclaimers manages to pack sincerity and straightforwardness into its marriage-themed heart without overplaying its hand. Released as the lead single from their 1994 album “Hit the Highway,” the song toes the line between earnest storytelling and anthemic simplicity. The Reid brothers, Charlie and Craig, opt for a lyrical approach that cuts straight to the chase—expressing a plainspoken desire to commit a lifetime to another. No frills, no metaphorical acrobatics, just a direct proposition set to music.

Pete Wingfield’s production wraps the song in a clean and approachable sound, though it doesn’t exactly push boundaries. There’s a certain workmanlike charm in how the arrangement unfolds, but it doesn’t leave a significant or lasting impression. It’s sturdy and functional but not wholly dynamic, much like the proposition at the core of the lyrics. The upbeat pacing keeps things afloat, even if it doesn’t ascend to exhilarating heights.

The accompanying music video, directed by Lindy Heymann, ventures into the Mojave Desert and Las Vegas. This choice of setting feels like an intriguing attempt to juxtapose the bareness of commitment against the glitz of impulse-driven unions. While the visuals offer moments of charm, they don’t quite elevate the song beyond its unvarnished premise.

Chart-wise, “Let’s Get Married” fared decently, peaking at 21 on the UK Singles Chart and echoing a similar reception in Austria’s Top 40. Its inclusion in the BBC Scotland sitcom “Two Doors Down” (Season 4, Episode 1, 2019) feels oddly indicative of the song’s resolute ordinariness—it works as background rather than centerpiece.

Whether this single reaches the pop heights of “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” is doubtful; it wasn’t built to match its predecessor’s infectious energy. Still, as an artifact of The Proclaimers’ brand of no-nonsense songwriting, it’s a reliably unpretentious entry in their repertoire. You won’t be bowled over, but you might find yourself humming along in quiet agreement with its simple proposition.

Featured on the 1994 album “Hit the Highway”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

4 . Gus Gus – Polyesterday

GusGus’s “Polyesterday,” lifted from their 1995 debut album “Polydistortion,” operates as both an artifact of mid-’90s electronic ambition and a curious exercise in restrained maximalism.

Released in 1996, the song dabbles in a sleek amalgamation of techno, house, and the smoldering remnants of trip-hop, genres that GusGus, initially conceived as an Icelandic film and acting collective, would weaponize into a sonic identity. The track’s moderate success on the UK Singles Chart at position 55, and a more pointed peak at number 7 on the UK Dance Singles Chart, encapsulates its dual nature: mainstream-adjacent yet throbbing with underground credibility.

The allure of “Polyesterday” lies in its taut, almost surgical production. Every loop feels polished to a mirror shine, echoing a time when electronic music was finding its footing between club hedonism and headphone introspection. Yet, the track’s synthetic emotionality can verge on the clinical—a quality that reflects GusGus’s early transition from experimental collective to a band grappling with the demands of international relevance, bolstered by 4AD’s 1997 global re-release of their debut.

“Polyesterday” gained extra mileage through its inclusion in the “Purple EP: Polyesterday,” a move that likely catalyzed its performance on dance charts. Its structure conveys a melancholic futurism that flirts with detachment, a quality that underscores GusGus’s aesthetic strengths and occasional weaknesses. The charisma of band members like Daníel Ágúst Haraldsson and, at times, Emilíana Torrini, flickers subtly but doesn’t overtake the track’s mechanical precision.

While GusGus’s later remixing work for icons such as Björk and Depeche Mode would cement their clout, “Polyesterday” feels less a defining moment and more an intriguing precursor. If the band’s 1997 Toronto performance supporting their second album hinted at future dynamism, this track, by comparison, remains a frozen snapshot of their embryonic electronic ethos—sharp, stylish, but slightly inert.

Featured on the 1997 album “Polydistortion”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Official Site

5 . Red Hot Chili Peppers – Aeroplane

“Aeroplane” from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ 1995 album “One Hot Minute” is a curious blend of funk rock theatrics and childlike whimsy.

Produced by Rick Rubin, the track feels like a kaleidoscope of contrasting energies, anchored by Flea’s elastic basslines and Anthony Kiedis’s playful vocals.

The inclusion of “The ‘Aeroplane’ Kids” choir adds an unusual layer, their voices doubling as both a symbol of innocence and a distraction that teeters on the edge of kitsch.

Dave Navarro’s guitar work, though technically sharp, leans more into metallic sheen than the earthy funk traditionally associated with the band, underscoring the album’s divergence from their earlier sound.

Charting at number eight on Billboard’s Modern Rock Tracks and eleventh in the UK Singles Chart, the song clearly resonated with a wide audience, though its placement at number 30 on the Billboard Mainstream Top 40 suggests a slightly lukewarm crossover appeal.

Gavin Bowden’s direction of the music video mirrors the song’s eccentricities, amplifying its quirky yet fragmented personality.

Live, “Aeroplane” initially found favor during the “One Hot Minute Tour,” becoming the third most performed track before being quietly retired after Navarro’s exit.

Its revival during 2016’s Pier 70 show and later during “The Getaway World Tour” almost felt perfunctory—a nostalgic nod rather than a reintegration of a setlist cornerstone.

References to Mazzy Star’s “Into Dust” within the song lyrics suggest a subdued contemplative layer beneath all the airborne buoyancy, though this shading feels more incidental than integral.

The bonus live tracks included with the single—a mix of performances from their Rotterdam show, including a Bowie cover—offer a rawer snapshot of this transitional era for the band.

“Aeroplane” ultimately captures a moment of flight, yes, but one buffeted by turbulence more than grace.

Featured on the 1995 album “One Hot Minute”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

6 . Nitzer Ebb – Lightning Man

“Lightning Man,” a 1990 single from Nitzer Ebb’s third album “Showtime,” embodies the sharper edges of the EBM genre while remaining oddly accessible.

Produced by Mark ‘Flood’ Ellis, the song relies on a relentless keyboard refrain that feels both hypnotic and jarring, a calculated tension that underscores the duo’s knack for minimal yet impactful arrangements. While it’s not the most adventurous melodic structure, its insistence becomes the sonic equivalent of a hammer hitting cold steel—unyielding, metallic, and undeniably striking.

The vocal delivery by Douglas McCarthy leans heavily on terse phrases, a style that complements the group’s thematic fixation on power dynamics and primal urges. Bon Harris’s instrumentation cuts through with machine-like precision, though one might argue it teeters on repetitive, a double-edged sword in their stripped-down aesthetic. The song peaks sonically but middles thematically, leaving the listener caught between groove and monotony.

Chart performance tells its own story: number 97 in the UK Singles Chart feels underwhelming, but the track’s climb to 14 on the US Dance Chart and 28 on the US Alternative Songs chart captures its niche appeal in dance-focused and alt-industrial scenes. This duality mirrors the group’s identity—too stark for mainstream, yet too rhythmic to be ignored by underground crowds.

The accompanying music video aligns with Nitzer Ebb’s stark visual ethos of the era, amplifying the track’s mechanical urgency. Their live performances, bolstered by touring with Depeche Mode during “Showtime,” solidified the song’s atmospheric weight. Such exposure likely fed into the track’s impact, even if it never took over airwaves.

Though “Lightning Man” may not reinvent the wheel, it chisels a niche in Nitzer Ebb’s discography—a jagged, industrial gem, purposeful in its austerity but constrained by its own rigidity.

Featured on the 1990 album “Showtime”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Instagram

7 . The Jayhawks – Blue

“Blue,” from The Jayhawks’ 1995 album *Tomorrow the Green Grass*, stands as both a reflection of the band’s craft and an outlier within its own structure.

Anchored by the vocal interplay of Mark Olson and Gary Louris, the track leans on their harmonies, one of the group’s most distinct and enduring elements. These blended voices lift the song, but the absence of a traditional rhyming scheme leaves the lyrics floating in an ambiguous emotional terrain—less poetic revelation, more withholding confession. This structural choice may intrigue some, while others might find it a frustrating dodge of catharsis.

Musically, “Blue” pivots on a curious trick. The G# chord that punctuates the title lyric is unique to this moment, a musical thread that appears and then vanishes, serving as an unexpected detour in the otherwise straightforward key of E. The effect teases the ear but doesn’t linger long enough to leave a deep impression.

The album itself saw modest success, peaking at number 41 on the UK Official Albums Chart and spending two weeks there. While “Blue” lacks specific chart data, its parent album’s trajectory hints at a balanced but unremarkable commercial reception. Perhaps the song resonates more in context—an Americana artifact rather than a singular event.

While Olson and Louris bring nuance to their roles, and The Jayhawks’ country-folk-rock synthesis is undeniable, the track’s distinct touches are more curious footnotes than transformative elements. “Blue” neither transcends its moment nor falters irreparably; it exists in suspension, a reflection of its plaintive core.

Featured on the 1995 album “Tomorrow the Green Grass”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

8 . Air – Sexy Boy

“Sexy Boy,” the breakout single from Air’s 1998 debut album *Moon Safari*, is a curious outlier in the duo’s otherwise atmospheric repertoire. While much of the record drifts in dreamy detachment, this track opts for an unapologetically upbeat melody, wrapping its charms in slick production and a knowing smirk.

Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, who wrote and produced the song, nearly left it off the album—a telling hesitation that underscores its stark contrast to their more pensive offerings. Yet, its infectious quality proved irresistible, lodging itself at number 13 on the UK Singles Chart and climbing to number 22 on the U.S. *Billboard* Hot Dance Club Play chart. Finland and Iceland also welcomed it into their top 20 and top 30, respectively, further establishing its international appeal, though not without some compromise to the album’s cohesion.

The lyrics, with lines like “Dollars in their eyes / Diamonds in their smiles,” flirt with a satire of desirability while projecting a glimmer of self-aware aspiration. Dunckel’s description of the track as a “seduction song” adds a layer of intentionality to its androgenized vocal treatment, which is as playful as it is peculiar. The manipulated refrain, “sexy boy,” teases the boundaries of gender performance, layering a veneer of irony over the themes of male vanity and sexual display.

Musically, Godin’s use of a 1960s Höfner bass—filtered through a guitar amp—anchors the track in a retro-futuristic aesthetic that suits Air’s penchant for space-age eccentricity. The decision pays off: the bassline’s warmth offsets the otherwise clinical sheen of the electronic textures without dulling their impact.

The accompanying music video, directed by Mike Mills, extends the song’s playful absurdity. A toy monkey morphs into a giant figure in a fantasy sequence set against New York City’s urban backdrop—a visual mischievous enough to land the video on TV rotations, including on JBTV.

While undeniably catchy, “Sexy Boy” flirts with disposability in its reliance on repetition and surface appeal. It lacks the cinematic depth that characterizes the rest of *Moon Safari,* leaving it more of a pop anomaly than a definitive artistic statement. Still, its cultural resonance is hard to dismiss, reinforced by its inclusion in the 1999 film *10 Things I Hate About You* and subsequent covers by acts like Franz Ferdinand and Nena. For better or worse, its appeal lies in its refusal to take itself too seriously—an oddball gem in Air’s polished crown.

Featured on the 1998 album “Moon Safari“.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Twitter

9 . Chris Rea – Auberge

“Auberge,” the lead single and title track from Chris Rea’s eleventh studio album released on 4 February 1991, occupies an intriguing position in his discography.

The song, which reached No. 16 on the UK Singles Chart and lingered there for six weeks, offers a meticulously crafted fusion of influences.

Here, Rea combines Dire Straits-tinged vocals with Ry Cooder-esque slide guitar work, turning the track into a sonic companion for open-road escapism, a fitting tribute to his own Caterham Super Seven car—affectionately named “Blue Seven” and prominently displayed on the album cover illustrated by Alan Fearnley.

Musically, “Auberge” leans into a “dreamy blues-induced rocker” aesthetic and walks a fine line between styles.

Billboard aptly captures its layered production: Morrison-esque darkness in Rea’s voice contrasts against a sharp rockabilly guitar foundation, while a psychedelic organ swirls through the mix, punctuated by buoyant horn flourishes that inject an air of whimsy into an otherwise road-worn introspection.

Despite these enticing elements, the track feels slightly burdened by its ambition, with the blend of horns, vocals, and organ sometimes competing rather than collaborating.

Jon Kelly’s production ensures polish, yet the result veers closer to a carefully arranged tableau than an organic jam.

Still, for fans willing to embrace its layered approach, “Auberge” succeeds as a motoring anthem draped in nostalgia and fueled by a restless need for the horizon.

Featured on the 1991 album “Auberge”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Facebook

10 . Anthrax – Nothing

“Nothing,” a single off Anthrax’s 1995 album “Stomp 442,” serves as a snapshot of a band grappling with transition while maintaining their footing in the metal landscape.

The song emerges from Anthrax’s first album without Dan Spitz on lead guitar, a lineup shift that subtly alters their sonic identity. John Bush, who had taken over vocal duties in 1992, lends his rugged, mid-range growl to the track, anchoring it in a tone more rooted in hard rock than pure thrash metal.

Recorded under Elektra Records, “Nothing” finds Anthrax tackling a leaner, groove-driven aesthetic that eschews the intricate aggression emblematic of their earlier work. The accompanying music video, which inexplicably opens with a cow, underscores their willingness to embrace absurdity while showcasing the band in a straightforward performance setup—a marked departure from the high-concept videos of their past.

Chart-wise, the song experienced modest success, peaking at number 89 on both the UK Singles Chart and the UK Physical Singles Chart. It’s a result that reflects the album’s transitional nature; “Stomp 442” was neither a commercial high point nor a critical darling in Anthrax’s catalog.

Historically, the album offers an essential checkpoint in Anthrax’s evolution. With core members Scott Ian and Charlie Benante at the helm, it represents a band refusing to stagnate despite lineup shifts and shifting genre tides. While “Nothing” lacks the impact of tracks from the band’s thrash heyday, it remains a testament to their adaptability in the mid-’90s metal scene.

Featured on the 1995 album “Stomp 442”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Official Site

11 . My Bloody Valentine – To Here Knows When

“To Here Knows When,” a track nestled in the sonic haze of My Bloody Valentine’s 1991 album “Loveless,” encapsulates the band’s commitment to texture over clarity.

Produced by Kevin Shields after an infamously protracted two-year recording process, the song veers closer to an auditory mirage than conventional structure. Anchored in distorted guitar loops and hushed, androgynous vocals that feel more like a hum than a statement, it resists traditional hooks or digestible lyricism in favor of creating a near-immersive atmosphere. It’s shoegaze at its most abstract, with melody submerged beneath layers of noise—a deliberate choice or an accidental by-product of their unorthodox production methods.

The track did manage to surface on the UK Singles Chart, peaking at number 29—an unexpected feat considering its almost alienating lack of immediacy. That said, its placement within an album that hit number 7 on the UK Albums Chart and number 3 on the Scottish Albums Chart may indicate that audiences were eager for a soundscape as unconventional as this.

There is a peculiar irony in a song so unyielding to traditional pop-song mechanics carving out a foothold in the charts. The band—Kevin Shields, Bilinda Butcher, Debbie Googe, and Colm Ó Cíosóig—crafted something less akin to a song than a shimmering snapshot of time, although one can argue whether it drifts into indulgence. While some might find its abstraction transcendent, others may find its lack of grounding maddening, a blur that struggles to justify its own opacity. “To Here Knows When” doesn’t ask to be liked—it merely exists, like a fog rolling over a landscape, obscuring as much as it reveals.

Featured on the 1991 album “Tremolo”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

12 . David Bowie – I Cant Read ’97

“I Can’t Read ’97” offers a brooding glimpse into a world where solace is fleeting and certainty crumbles.

Co-written by David Bowie and Reeves Gabrels, the song first appeared on Tin Machine’s 1989 debut, only to be reimagined by Bowie in 1996. This re-recording spawned two versions: one tethered to *The Ice Storm* soundtrack and another, shelved initially but later resurfacing in 2020 within the *Is It Any Wonder?* collection. The “Ice Storm” edit saw a modest chart presence, peaking at No. 73 in the UK and lingering in the Top 200 for three weeks—a testament to its niche appeal rather than mass resonance.

At its core, this rendition radiates remorse and alienation.

Per Bowie’s own admission, the track delves into a life where “jobs go wrong” and home offers little refuge, embodying an emotional austerity that’s hard to shake. Hunt Sales’ percussive table-rapping pierces through, a minimalist intervention that paradoxically intensifies the melancholic atmosphere, bridging the fragmented verses with a haunting chorus.

Performed live during the “Hours” tour in 1999, Bowie reverted to its raw Tin Machine essence, stripping it further down to its emotional skeleton. This choice recalls the original one-hour Nassau recording session, which crackled with an almost palpable sense of creative weariness and failure. That rawness, difficult to replicate decades later, lends the Tin Machine version an unsettling edge that this polished reimagining lacks, even with its added layers of reflection.

In the shadow of Bowie’s chameleonic career, “I Can’t Read ’97” is a hushed monument to dislocation, resonating less as a crowd-pleaser and more as a confessional echo from an artist in flux.

Featured on the 1997 album “The Ice Storm : Soundtrack”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site