My hmphs

Perhaps the only thing more quintessentially 1980s than a John Hughes movie is the soundtrack to a John Hughes movie. Music from such films as The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink and Weird Science usually had at least one Top 40 hit, and Hughes always seemed to be able to find the right song to capture whatever teen angst was being experienced on-screen.

His movies were formulaic, usually involving some awkward, misunderstood teen or someone who was a maverick, a latter-day James Dean who dressed differently and had no money. And the music was the same – usually consisting of semi-obscure, new-wave artists such as Altered Images, Oingo Boingo and Echo & the Bunnymen.

Hughes went way off the beaten path in finding music to the movie Some Kind of Wonderful. But as always, he found exactly the right music to fit the relationship between Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) and Keith (Eric Stoltz), two awkward, misunderstood teens who, um, dressed differently and had no money. He found bands I had never heard of (and in some cases, haven’t heard from since): Furniture, Flesh for Lulu, the March Violets and Lick the Tins. The Jesus and Mary Train had been big in the UK, as had Pete Shelley, the former lead singer of the punk band the Buzzcocks. But the rest, at least to me, were no-names.

The music was unlike anything I had heard of at the time, but I immediately liked it. From Shelley’s upbeat “Do Anything” to Lick the Tins’ charming remake of Elvis Presley’s “I Can’t Help Falling in Love,” each song held its own. “I Go Crazy” from Flesh for Lulu sounded like the Psychedelic Furs (another Hughes alumnus). And Blue Room’s “Cry Like This” was a perfect song for those teens feeling despondent, featuring simple chords on a keyboard accompanied by heavy drumbeats.

In a way, the movie seems to be written for the songs. You remember Watts pounding the drums to “Cry Like This,” and you feel her sadness. You recall Watts and Keith practicing Keith’s first kiss during Stephen Duffy’s “She Loves Me,” her legs wrapping around his waist as they both realize that there’s a spark there. The quirky “Brilliant Mind” suddenly turns dark and dramatic when Amanda Jones (Lea Thompson) runs out of school in tears after being shunned by her friends.

Each song kept the momentum and quality high; there simply isn’t a bad song on the album. And the fact that the producers left songs by the Rolling Stones and Billy Idol off the album is a testament to its greatness. They simply didn’t need those songs.

It’s a rarity - the songs make Some Kind of Wonderful that much more enjoyable, and I mainly watch the movie nowadays just to hear the songs within the context of the film.

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Top chart position: #37

By 1987 I had begun branching out and taking some risks in my musical tastes. I was in college - that’s what you’re supposed to do. Some experiments didn’t work out - I still kick myself for having wasted money on X’s See How We Are and Concrete Blonde’s self-titled debut. But when Jeff Whatley introduced me to 10,000 Maniacs’ In My Tribe - I realized that taking chances sometimes yielded pleasant rewards.

I wasn’t sure at first - the band’s name instantly conjures up - um, well, 10,000 maniacs, screaming their heads off and slam dancing and causing bodily harm to many people. However, the music suggested otherwise. With easygoing, mid-tempo songs featuring R.E.M.-like guitars and organs, the band sounded straight out of the 1960s. R.E.M. lead singer Michael Stipe even sang on one of the songs, which gave the group instant credibility in my book.

I soon learned that tead singer Natalie Merchant was the heart and soul of the group. Her distinct voice and enunciation (”I draw a jackal-headed womahn een the sahnd”) made you wonder what country she was from (Jamestown, NY, by the way). Her lyrics - like the above example - were sometimes enigmatic, but others are almost too blunt:

• “What’s the Matter Here?”, the opening song, was a merry jaunt, until you realized that Merchant was singing about an abused child.
• “Gun Shy,” another upbeat tune, told the tale of a young woman seeing her lover off to war.
• And of course, “Peace Train,” that ol’ Cat Stevens song, was in-your-face hippieism.

But no matter what Natalie Merchant sang, it always came out beautiful on this record. The lyrics sheet read like a novel:

“I wanted to be there by May at the latest time. Isn’t that the plan we had or have you changed your mind? I haven’t read a word from you since Phoenix or Tucson. April is over; will you tell me how long before I can be there?” (from “The Painted Desert”)

But when Merchant sang the prose, phrasing in her unique way, it became poetry. Such lyrics were so earnest and direct, but appearing at the end of the song, it became heartfelt and achingly real.

Natalie kept singing, every song adding to the mystique that this album now holds. Only a few tracks were below par - “My Sister Rose” - sounded like a polka, which is okay if you like polkas, but it seemed a bit out of place on this record.

The standout track was “Hey Jack Kerouac,” a tribute to the beatnik writer that had a timeless melody. With guitarist Robert Buck (no relation to R.E.M.’s Peter Buck) clanging the accompaniment, you could sense that Merchant was smiling when she was singing this, and it made the song even more charming.

I thought I had found a new group to identify with. Sadly, their follow-up, Blind Man’s Zoo, was a pale copy of In My Tribe. Their earlier releases and demos were disjointed and contained little melody. The band reemerged in 1992 with the popular Our Time in Eden, but Merchant’s once-unique voice sounded trite and uninspired. She left the group a year later for a solo career, and I never latched on to her subsequent albums.

In My Tribe, then, remains an anomaly for a group that promised much and delivered little. I listen to it, marveling at its perfection but wishing for more - and happy that I took a chance.

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Year Released: 1982
Top chart position: #1

People find it hard to believe that at one time, Michael Jackson was cool. Nowadays, the self-appointed “King of Pop” has no kingdom to rule; his last disc, Invincible, sold 6 million copies worldwide, but only 2 million in the United States - success for most artists, but a far cry from Thriller, which has sold more than 30 million copies in the United States since its release in 1982.

But before the painful breakdown - before the outrageous marriage to Lisa Marie Presley and child abuse allegations, before surgical masks, the Elephant Man’s bones and Bubbles the chimp, before skin whitening, nose altering and baby dangling - Michael Jackson was on top of the world, redefining pop music in a way that only his ex-wife’s father and the Beatles had done.

Everything Jackson has released after Thriller has paled in comparison (no pun intended), as he has tried to duplicate the success but fallen short in every subsequent attempt. His album titles tell of his struggles to outdo himself, to make himself larger than larger-than-life: Bad, Dangerous, Invincible.

But with Thriller, Jackson singlehandedly re-energized R&B music; he had been carrying it on his shoulders throughout the 70s as a member of the Jackson 5, and his first solo effort, Off the Wall, had spawned four Top 10 hits. But no one was prepared for the juggernaut that Thriller unleashed upon the world. His videos were among the first by a black artist that were played on MTV. He recruited Eddie Van Halen - a heavy metal guitarist! - to play the lead on “Beat It.” And his mini-theatrical release, the zombie-laden title cut, set the standard for music videos for years to come.

Yes, in 1982 Michael was the essence of hip. From the opening bars of “Billie Jean,” you could tell that this was something special, something different. It was not an upbeat dance hit like “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” but it smoldered with intensity and a groove that would not leave your head. The video featured Jackson lighting up the sidewalk whenever he took a step, as if his very touch were magic.

The magic continued with “Beat It,” a raw, angry anthem that catapulted Jackson from R & B superstar to rock superstar. Van Halen’s appearance gave Jackson credibility in the all-white world of rock, and the video showed him as a tough, street-minded kid.

The rest of the album lived off the success of these two songs. “Human Nature” and “The Girl is Mine” were two contemporary ballads that appealed to everyone, and “Wanna Be Startin’ Something” and “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)” were retreads of “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough.”

But like the video for “Billie Jean,” everything Jackson touched turned to gold. Having grown up in an all-white community in north Georgia, where the only black music I had listened to was Earth, Wind & Fire, I found myself and my schoolmates learning how to moonwalk and staying up late at night to watch the latest video. Jackson gave way to Prince, followed by New Edition, The Time and Midnight Star, and Appalachia was soon enveloped in the sounds of R&B.

When Thriller was released, I was 14 and just beginning to listen to pop music. I was in awe of an album in which seven of its nine songs were top 10 hits. It showed me the power of the long-playing record; no longer would I be satisfied a 45rpm single from an artist. The album format was a showcase, a repository of good music that would establish the person or band as a musical force to be reckoned with.

I still listen for new Michael Jackson music - secretly now, for it’s no longer cool to be a Jackson fan. I rarely enjoy any of it; with each release, he seems to slip farther down the mountain he once stood atop.

The King is dead. Long live the King.

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