Jukebox Junior: Playing records to a girl called Junior
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Singles Of The Year 1983
[1] Michael Jackson, 'Billie Jean'
“When child stars go bad”. Maybe I should shunt Junior out of the limelight before she starts messing with that button nose. She took centre stage here, boogieing away to the timeless bassline, and we cared not a stuff what became of this Peter Pan and his lo-lli-pops. For four minutes or so, Jacko was Smack-o on the button.
‘Billie Jean’ has lost none of its explosive dancefloor-cramming power, even with a generation that’s never heard it before. I don’t suppose there’s a soul out there who doesn’t strut- however unconvincingly- over to the floor when the vacuum beat starts pulling. I’ll bet one or two of you even imagine the tiles glowing as you step on them.
The sentiment of the record, as cowardly as it is, causes whoops of relief in retrospect. What’s wrong with a bit of CSA avoidance compared to full-on world-terrifying freakishness? Ok, difficult ground, but couldn’t he have just been a cad with a mild nosejob? That’s a Jacko we can get behind- right, kids?
But it is what it is. And ‘Billie Jean’ is stirring pop genius.
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[2] Altered Images, 'Don't Talk To Me About Love'
After Orange Juice, another blow is struck for spotless Scottish pop; if Aztec Camera are No.1 it’ll be a haggimony. Sorry.
Clare Grogan’s strangled vocal was always an acquired taste, but it was pleasingly quirky on the skewed pop masterpieces ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘I Could Be Happy’. That it could also work with the more sophisticated sheen and disco sass of the Images’ final album ‘Bite’ was more of a surprise. Still, lads of a certain age had always known she could “do” sexy.
‘Don’t Talk…’ is perfect pop fed through the Chic machine. It glows, shines and shimmers, and hooks you in. It’s heartbreaking, but effortlessly groovy. The band took three or four years to get to this point, rock band to disco-pop soulsters. Lead man Johnny McElhone took even longer with his later band Texas, but with greater commercial success- Sharleen Spiteri is a less extreme proposition with Grogan, I suppose.
Junior trooped off to fetch her shoes halfway through, the exquisite heartache no doubt getting to her. I do hope I’m not exposing her to too wide a spectrum of adult emotion on these little spins- let’s hope she just thinks “it’s got a good beat”. 1983’s top record- for one- could have quite a theme to swallow.
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[3] Prince, '1999'
We found the 7” unusually quickly: it was in the DJ case rather than the crate from hell, you see. Junior looked at the sleeve and made horse noises. You’ll find that the “1” seems to have a mane- it takes a child to spot these details.
She danced from the first starburst of this cheaply dramatic pop funk landmark. I think everyone has this last quarter-century. The funny thing is, the concept “1999” would seem quaint and dated to Junior; to us adults, it simply revives those niggling feelings that Warner re-released the single at the wrong end of 1999. Or is that just me? I mean, why put it out in January? Ok, we were all dizzy that it was 1999, but it’s about partying at the end of the millennium, the end of civilisation, the sharp-end of a nuclear warhead. A December 1999 release would’ve seen the purple pompadour grabbing the only non-rubbish No.1 of his UK hit career.
Can’t win ‘em all.
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[4] New Order, 'Blue Monday'
Time for more tales of banal derring-do in a home counties WH Smith: I remember buying this, a crucial couple of months after it initially entered the charts; meant that my sleeve isn’t the slotted floppy disk version, just black with the colour blocks. Anyway, it wasn’t what I went there to buy. Neil and I meandered around for ages, checking the racks, while I held 7” copies of David Bowie’s ‘Modern Love’ and Heaven 17’s ‘Crushed By The Wheels Of Industry’. I had a sudden change of heart, thrust the two 7”s into Neil’s palm and took ‘Blue Monday’ to the counter.
“Neefffr ffrwr nafoorer tnnfer,” said the sneery, nasal, incomprehensible, bearded bloke behind the counter.
“Pardon?” this 11 year old replied, understandably.
“Where’s the David Bowie single?”
I told him it was back on the shelf, but he didn’t seem to believe me. I was being accused. Actually, for all I know, Neil DID nick it.
You all know ‘Blue Monday’ and its twanging proto-house, too long for a 7” single, too hot for the 12” chart, too many re-releases to count. As the thumping, power-hammer beats broke the silence, Junior pressed the buttons on the inert CD player, a look of Gillian Gilbert-esque concentration on her young brow. The ankle-height bass had her swaying jerkily and the rest of the song jump-started her dance repertoire. The most effective record in a while, but the final three are heart-stoppingly irresistible.
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[5] Orange Juice, 'Rip It Up'
Edwyn Collins' voice is uniquely watery, facing a song-long struggle to get the words out through the gurgles. ‘Rip It Up’ is a liquid record, the burbling bass squelching through bassy puddles and sloshing around the edges of the viscous song. Even the band’s name is wet. It’s an analogy that could run and run, but it ends here.
Orange Juice were big boys by 1983, with Postcard Records far behind them now that they enjoyed the trappings of major players Polydor. It didn’t come off. Their classic work was behind them in the indie ghetto and ‘Rip It Up’ was just a final peak- albeit the loftiest peak they’d ever reach. Still, the record’s a treasure, an example of economy of tune and performance that would become a distant memory in pop as the decade progressed. It has funk pretensions, but they’re milky white and cuddly.
The 20 post-Orange Juice years have been mixed for Edwyn Collins, with underwhelming records receiving rave reviews and microscopic sales- apart from the strutting glitch of ‘A Girl Like You’, obviously. I think he’s recovered from recent medical trauma. Get the ‘Juice back, Ed.
Junior and I surfed the bass-curled waves together. She wouldn’t let me put her down while this was playing- perhaps the floor looked squelchy.
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[6] Eurythmics, 'Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)'
Junior clicked her fingers to the sharp snares and stomped her pink wellies like the jackboots Annie Lennox surely wore in the intimidating video. Austere, fierce and deeply sexy, Lennox chilled young lads to the bone in a confusing and perhaps not altogether unpleasant way.
I’m projecting: I didn’t fancy Annie at all. I just had a funny feeling in my tummy.
The song, then. It was the last synth pop classic- dramatic, futuristic and slightly seedy, like the best of its kind, and the song that really launched the duo before they threw money at their sound and became less interesting. I digressed this morning and played the preceding single- ‘Love Is A Stranger’- too. It might even be better.
I bought very few Eurythmics records. Perhaps they were just unlovable or traded too much on image. Reams of hits followed ‘Sweet Dreams’, but they took out a short lease on the memory.
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[7] KC & The Sunshine Band, 'Give It Up'
I have a sneaking feeling that I’m one of only a handful on the planet who can hear something in this record, something great. Incredibly simple, lovingly produced, somewhat out of step even in 1983, it came from nowhere years after KC’s heyday and didn’t even allow him to stick around. A last hurrah so distinctive it erased any memory of their disco king past.
It’s not that I always loved it. It sneaked up on me. I noticed it amble into the charts at No.30 before a fair but unspectacular vault to No.19 the following week, then we went on holiday to France for a fortnight. In those days, you took one step out of the country and home might as well not exist. I checked the chart as soon as possible when we got back, crippled with withdrawal symptoms, and this was No.1.
No doubt you’re wondering about the surge. It troubled me for years. 19-3-1.
The record’s very sweet, but not worthy of any real classic status. Junior will probably never hear it again, and her life will be no less rich, but this one time she wanted to be carried and to dance in front of the mirror, and for a few minutes we enjoyed a disco fossil unexpectedly dug up in the cynical 80s.
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