The Specials, The Jeff Healey Band, XTC, Jefferson Starship, The Stranglers, So, Julian Cope, The Boomtown Rats, The Jam, All About Eve, Theatre Of Hate, Echo And The Bunnymen
They are the performers of twelve “live” music videos that were ranked in various charts, this week (04/52) BUT … in the EIghties 80s.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
Tracklist
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1 . The Specials – Too Much Too Young“Too Much Too Young” by The Specials lands with the urgency of a live grenade, a sharp critique wrapped in a pointed ska rhythm that refuses to play nice. Emerging from the raw energy of their 1979 live EP, the track is less a song and more a manifesto, hollering at teenage parenthood and societal pressures without apology. Jerry Dammers’ biting lyrics don’t sugarcoat much—it’s a direct warning about the pitfalls of young domesticity, framed with a pro-contraception stance that turned more than a few heads back then. The backdrop? Ska, of course, but with the restless, stomping edge that defined the 2 Tone movement, blending reggae’s sway and punk’s snarl into a kind of organized chaos. Its live recording at Coventry’s Tiffany’s club amplifies its rawness, a perfect match for the era’s precarious cultural zeitgeist—bleak economics, shifting morality, post-punk rebellion. The fact that it reached #1 on the UK charts in 1980 as a live track feels both improbable and completely inevitable, as if it bullied its way to the top by sheer willpower. Banned on some airwaves for its explicit tone, the song’s lyrical candor only added to its appeal among disillusioned British youth, cementing its status as an anthem, whether parents liked it or not. It’s hard to ignore its wilful contradiction: vibrant enough to be a party track yet scolding enough to crash said party with a litany of warnings. Viewing this song only as a piece of ska history diminishes its broader context; it’s as much a snapshot of Thatcherite Britain’s simmering frustrations as it is a skank-along classic, no less relevant decades on, even if the controversies it sparked feel quaint in retrospect.
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2 . The Jeff Healey Band – Confidence Man“Confidence Man” by The Jeff Healey Band boldly plants its roots in the fertile ground of late-80s rock and blues, a period when genre loyalists were clinging to six-string heroes like lifeboats in a sea of synth-pop and hair metal. Released in 1988 on their debut album *See The Light*, this track doesn’t pander to trends; instead, it leans heavily on the visceral songwriting of John Hiatt and James Burton, whose lyrical swagger mirrors the persona of its titular character. The song’s sharp guitar riffs and rhythmic pulse provide a perfect canvas for Jeff Healey’s lap-style playing, a technique born of necessity due to his blindness but executed with an authority that turns disability into defiance. Commercially, the single carved a respectable niche, entering Top 100 charts in multiple countries, but never quite breaking into the pop stratosphere—a curious irony for a song called “Confidence Man.” A cultural footnote was added to the track’s history when it became part of the soundtrack for *Road House*, the quintessential late-80s barroom brawl movie, starring a perpetually zen Patrick Swayze. Healey himself made a notable cameo, bridging the gap between diegetic soundtrack and storyline with an ease that most Hollywood-moonlighting musicians can only envy. The album it hails from did somewhat better, bagging a Grammy nomination and achieving platinum status in Healey’s native Canada, bolstered by other standout tracks like “Angel Eyes.” While “Confidence Man” doesn’t scream for attention, its lived-in charm and tight performances keep it engaging. Healey’s snarling guitar work speaks louder than words, even if those words tiptoe around blues clichés with the subtlety of an elephant in steel-toed boots. As a debut statement, it shows a band comfortable in their melange of styles but not yet transcending them. It’s a good time, but not a game changer—a confident stride rather than a giant leap forward. Featured on the 1989 album “See the Light “.
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3 . XTC – Senses Working OvertimeXTC’s “Senses Working Overtime” stands as an intricate fusion of medieval-esque melodies and quirky pop sensibilities. Released in 1982 as part of their *English Settlement* album, the track finds Andy Partridge penning a lyrically dense ode to the chaos of sensory overload, underscored by a 12-string acoustic guitar riff that’s both hypnotic and peculiar. The accompanying time signature shifts deliver a playful complexity, hinting at the group’s eagerness to tiptoe outside conventional pop boundaries without fully abandoning them. It’s a song that feels half chant, half anthem, drawing inspiration from Manfred Mann’s “5-4-3-2-1,” though it’s far too nervous to declare itself a straightforward radio crowd-pleaser. The production by Hugh Padgham and XTC balances precision with a slight air of untidiness, as though the band teeters on the edge of something more unhinged yet holds back. Charting at No. 10 in the UK, this was XTC’s mainstream peak, yet its charm lies in its oddities—medieval absurdity meeting modern neurosis. The BBC *Top of the Pops* performance and Shepperton Studios-shot video only amplify the song’s playful, theatrical air, wrapping it all in a package that feels too self-aware to be unintentional. It’s a record that boldly chases beauty in cacophony but stops short of fully embracing the chaos, leaving listeners intrigued yet mildly unsettled. Featured on the 1982 album “English Settlement”.
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4 . Jefferson Starship – Jane“Jane” by Jefferson Starship bursts straight out of 1979 with unapologetic force, boldly announcing the band’s stylistic pivot toward a harder rock terrain. Its opening riff, crafted by Craig Chaquico, isn’t just a hook—it’s a confident declaration, pairing brilliantly with Mickey Thomas’s piercing, almost operatic vocals, which replaced the iconic but departed Grace Slick and Marty Balin. Written by a collective of David Freiberg, Jim McPherson, Chaquico, and Paul Kantner, the song sidesteps sentiment in favor of a story dripping with tension—an ode to a turbulent relationship rumored to have origins in Freiberg’s personal life. The instrumental choices are bold, with Chaquico’s extended guitar solo standing out like a middle finger to early criticisms about its length; retaining it was perhaps the band’s way of defending their newfound aggression. Commercially, the track hit No. 14 on the Billboard Hot 100, a chart run aided by its cinematic feel, which has ensured its inclusion in pop culture mainstays ranging from *Wet Hot American Summer* to *Grand Theft Auto IV* to 2023’s *Cocaine Bear.* Although rarely discussed in the same breath as their earlier catalog, “Jane” sidesteps the trappings of nostalgia-drenched ’70s rock by leaning into tightly constructed, precise instrumentation that sidesteps excess without losing energy. Perfect for both sweaty arena floors and Hollywood sync licenses, the track doesn’t so much beg for attention as it demands it with a raised eyebrow. Featured on the 1979 album “Freedom at Point Zero”.
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5 . The Stranglers – [Get A] Grip [On Yourself]“(Get A) Grip (On Yourself)” emerges as a gritty statement of intent from The Stranglers, released in 1977 as part of their debut album, *Rattus Norvegicus*. The track leans heavily into punk’s frenetic energy, tempered by a new wave polish that sets the band apart from their contemporaries. Hugh Cornwell’s sardonic lyrics frame resilience in the face of personal struggles, laced with self-awareness and an undercurrent of defiance. Jean-Jacques Burnel’s driving bassline underpins a song that feels both raw and melodic, with Eric Clarke’s saxophone punctuating the sound in a way rarely seen in punk circles. Produced by Martin Rushent, it benefits from a crisp yet unvarnished production, capturing the tension between the band’s technical musicianship and the genre’s anti-establishment ethos. The single performed modestly on the UK charts, peaking at number 44, but its impact lies in its fresh approach, pairing intelligence with aggression. Double A-sided with “London Lady,” it was backed by the momentum of the scene and helped secure the band’s place as innovators, using keyboards and saxophones to shape their identity. This was music driven by talent, frustration, and, importantly, an uncompromising determination to stand apart in the crowded, chaotic British punk milieu of the late ’70s. Featured on the 1977 album “Rattus Norvegicus”.
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6 . So – Are You Sure“Are You Sure” by the British duo So, released in 1988, nestles itself squarely in the pop/dance genre of the late ’80s, a period known for its glossy production and shiny optimism. The track kissed the fringes of mainstream success, peaking modestly at Number 41 on the Billboard Hot 100 while bypassing the American Top 40 altogether, leaving it teetering between almost-there glory and low-grade obscurity. Its maiden live performance at ULU in London on March 24, 1988, suggests an eagerness to position the track as a potential pop anthem, though the reception barely afforded it that status. The song enjoyed a respectable stint on dance charts, which speaks to its alignment with the shimmering, synth-heavy aesthetic of the era but didn’t quite have the muscle to elevate beyond niche appeal. Curiously, details like the song’s producer and any corresponding music video remain lost to the shuffle, leaving the track suspended in partial obscurity, neither a classic nor a curiosity strong enough to demand rediscovery. Featured on the 1988 album “Horseshoe in the Glove “.
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7 . Julian Cope – Trampolene“Trampolene,” a standout track from Julian Cope’s 1987 album “Saint Julian,” straddles the line between rock bombast and post-punk introspection. It captures Cope at a pivotal moment, shedding the experimentalism of The Teardrop Explodes for a more streamlined, radio-conscious sound. The production, helmed by Warne Livesey, is sleek yet retains enough grit to complement Cope’s idiosyncratic charm. The song’s layered arrangement juxtaposes jangling guitars and a driving rhythm section, crafting a balanced mix of accessibility and artistic depth. Cope’s vocals are theatrical without tipping into excess, delivering his enigmatic lyrics with urgency and just enough edge to keep things interesting. Supported by a visually arresting music video, “Trampolene” earned airtime on MTV and other music networks, embedding itself in the late ’80s cultural zeitgeist. The single’s mid-tier chart performance—peaking at No. 51 on the UK Singles Chart—hints at its underdog status within his catalog. Far from a one-note offering, the song reflects larger contradictions in Cope’s career: the push-pull between commercial ambition and his autodidactic fascination with the esoteric. “Trampolene” doesn’t rewrite the rock playbook but stands as a snapshot of Julian Cope refining his craft while leaning into the eccentricities that would define his later work. Featured on the 1987 album “Saint Julian”.
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8 . The Boomtown Rats – Someone’s Looking At You“Someone’s Looking at You” by The Boomtown Rats takes aim at the creeping unease of surveillance culture, blending biting wit with sharp observational commentary. Released as the third single from their 1979 album *The Fine Art of Surfacing*, the track channels the paranoia of Orwellian dystopias and marries it to a New Wave sound driven by organ-heavy arrangements that nod to punk’s raw edge while skirting radio-friendly sensibilities. Bob Geldof’s sardonic delivery ensures the lyrics cut through cleanly, even as the backing instrumentation builds an almost sardonic cheerfulness—a contradiction that works in the song’s favor. Produced by Robert John “Mutt” Lange, the track achieves an appealing polish without dulling its sharp edges, all while climbing the charts to reach #4 in the UK and making waves across various countries. Performances on platforms like “Top of the Pops” ensured broader visibility, pushing its commentary on being under constant watch into living rooms during an era before today’s hyper-surveillance realities. The music video, now findable online, underscores the lyrical paranoia with visuals that amplify the unease without resorting to heavy-handedness. This song captures The Boomtown Rats at their peak, fusing social critique with a sound that embodies the late ’70s New Wave energy, anchored by Geldof’s unrelenting charisma. Featured on the 1979 album “The Fine Art of Surfacing”.
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9 . The Jam – Strange TownReleased in 1979 as a standalone single, “Strange Town” finds The Jam sharpening their urban edge while sidestepping the safety net of an album. Paul Weller pens a vivid portrait of big-city dislocation, pulling listeners into a tense, gritty shuffle through the streets of London. The song grabs attention with its elastic bassline, a blistering guitar solo that tips its hat to The Kinks, and a breakneck coda. It’s mod meets punk, but there’s a precision here that hints at The Jam’s evolving ambitions. Vic Coppersmith-Heaven tossed this together in two days at RAK Studios, but the raw urgency never loses its poise. The B-side, “The Butterfly Collector,” offers a stark, biting counterpoint, as Weller dissects sycophantic hangers-on with an audible sneer. Charting at number 15 in the UK, the single marked another notch in the band’s late-’70s hot streak, though its true value lies in its thematic weight rather than chart success. The music video, a jittery patchwork of urban scenes, mirrors the jittery energy of the track itself. For all its punch, “Strange Town” isn’t just a song about alienation; it’s a sonic snapshot of a band finding its cultural footing amid the chaos of Thatcher-era Britain.
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10 . All About Eve – Wild Hearted Woman“Wild Hearted Woman” by All About Eve captures the dreamscapes of late-’80s alternative rock, blending gothic tinges with the shimmering folk-rock aesthetic that defined the band’s early identity. Released in 1988 as a single from their debut album, the track climbed to a modest No. 33 on the UK Singles Chart, an achievement that feels more symbolic of the niche the band occupied between the whimsical and the brooding. The lyrics flirt with pastoral mysticism and a dash of flower-child rebellion—hippie ideals wrapped in a velvety cloak of white magic and fairy-tale imagery. Julianne Regan’s ethereal vocals are both precise and haunting, balanced against Tim Bricheno’s agile guitar work, which weaves an understated but effective melody. Paul Samwell-Smith’s polished production lends the song a sense of clarity that softens the edges of its darker themes, framing it more as fantasy than foreboding. The band even taps into the obscure with their B-side choices: a Trees cover (“The Garden of Jane Delawney”) alongside a more uplifting original, “Appaloosa.” “Wild Hearted Woman” is a curious artifact of its time, neither wholly of the gothic camp nor entirely folk, yet somehow straddling both with conviction, if not complete cohesion. Even though the song lingers on the outskirts of All About Eve’s stronger catalog, it offers a glimpse of the band’s ability to merge delicate melodies with an undercurrent of shadowy mystique. It might not scream “essential listening,” but it invites you into a corner of the 1980s both unapologetically atmospheric and unapologetically niche. Featured on the 1988 album “All About Eve”.
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11 . Theatre Of Hate – Do You Believe In The Westworld?Theatre of Hate’s “Do You Believe in the Westworld?” strides in with the swagger of a post-punk gunslinger, dragging a rugged gothic rock sensibility across a desolate soundscape. Released as a single in 1981 and later anchoring the debut album *Westworld* in 1982, the track locks horns with its era’s anxieties, conjuring a fantastical yet ominous Western vision. The production, handled by Mick Jones of The Clash at Wessex Studios, sharpens the song’s edges into a cinematic sprawl, though it occasionally feels like the ambition outweighs the execution. Driven by Kirk Brandon’s urgent vocal delivery and John “Boy” Lennard’s prominent saxophone beneath tribal drum patterns, the song leans heavily into mood, trading melody for atmosphere. The guitar work, partly attributed to Jones after Steve Guthrie’s departure, lays down a stark, sinewy foundation, though Billy Duffy, who later found glory in The Cult, remains curiously absent from this particular opus. Despite its relatively modest peak at No. 40 on the UK Singles Chart, the track has endured as Theatre of Hate’s defining statement, overshadowing some of their more biting early singles and incendiary live performances. Its lyrics remain cryptic, seemingly critiquing or questioning mythologies of conquest and expansion, wrapped up in an apocalyptic reverie that has managed to latch onto the cultural fringe for decades. The accompanying music video, floating around YouTube’s algorithmic graveyard, is as stark and austere as the song itself, reflecting early ‘80s British post-punk aesthetics in a way that feels both dated and oddly timeless. If there’s a gripe to be found, it’s the sense that *Westworld* as an album aspires to heights its individual components don’t always reach, leaving this track as its solitary skyscraper amid otherwise uneven terrain. Still, there’s no denying its place as a cult artifact, revisited in live sets and compilations like some enigmatic relic from a shadowy corner of the UK’s post-punk archive. Featured on the 1982 album “Westworld”. |
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12 . Echo And The Bunnymen – The CutterReleased in 1983, Echo & The Bunnymen’s “The Cutter” radiates a dark and hypnotic energy, merging post-punk urgency with a flair for the exotic. Its Eastern-inspired string arrangements, courtesy of Adam Peters, lend an air of mystique rarely heard in mainstream UK music at the time, while Ian McCulloch’s cryptic lyrics evoke a sense of foreboding that borders on the cinematic. The single climbed to No. 8 on the UK Singles Chart, a testament to its haunting magnetism and the band’s tightening grip on the British music scene during the early ’80s. Shot partly in Iceland, the accompanying video places the group in icy landscapes steeped in surrealism, an aesthetic that complements the song’s enigmatic tone without tipping into pretension. Though structurally conventional, its ethereal layering ensures it transcends mere pop-rock conventions; the melody lingers stubbornly, much like the frost in the video’s frame. Listeners who dissect its references might point out nods toward *A Clockwork Orange*—a clever wink at their own record label, Korova, and perhaps an acknowledgment of dystopian themes running beneath its surface. At its heart, “The Cutter” reveals a band experimenting with tension—balancing accessibility and abstraction in a way that prefigures their later classic, “The Killing Moon.” Whether embraced for its atmospheric ambition or its mainstream appeal, it remains a striking piece of early ’80s British music, where menace, beauty, and strangeness collide. Featured on the 1983 album “Porcupine“.
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