Star Hits: A close reading

To keep this blog alive while I have no concert reports to turn in, I'm introducing a new series: close readings of Star Hits magazine, canonized earlier in this very blog. You'll first need to download the PDF, then--after poring over the pages for several hours, reminiscing about your nascent musical obsession, digging out your old yearbooks, memorializing your favorite Esprit black cardigan that your mom threw away, even though it only had, like, eight holes, and determining if you can still do the '80s dance--follow along.

Download file: Star Hits, February 1984 [PDF]

Before I start, though, let me apologize for the 10 missing pages; I didn't realize they were gone until I started scanning. I know they went to a Culture Club fan, but I can't tell you where they are today.

My second caveat: As much as I love and treasure Star Hits, I don't know how representative it was or wasn't of its time. Sure, you could find it on the shelves of B. Dalton, Payless, and various newsstands, so it wasn't exactly a specialty title. At the same time, in my junior high school, it was far from a best-seller. A small group of us passed the issues around between ourselves, but you were much more likely to find Seventeen, Jet, or Teen Beat lining the locker walls. If, however, you don't mind those trifling details, read on!

Let's offer some context. The date was February 1984. Ronald Reagan occupied the White House, while Konstantin Chernenko presided over the Soviet Union; the Winter Olympics opened in Sarajevo; and the top songs on the U.S. charts for the month were "Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club and "Jump" by Van Halen.

On first perusal, you'll likely be struck by the big-ticket items: Get a load of Madonna's eyebrows! Shield your eyes against Annie Lennox's bright-orange crew cut! Man, that Style Council song sure has a lot of words. And I would've killed to win a Walkman. I'm certain that the hard-hitting interviews with Duran Duran and the Alarm (as well as the words of wisdom from Cy Curnin and Tom Bailey) originally drew me in, but oddly, they're less arresting 25 (!) years on.

Instead, what I love now are the overlooked details and the incongruous elements. Let's start with, errrr, Start!, the repository for the odds and ends. Here, you'll find birthday wishes going out to two members of Madness (can anyone even name two members of Madness?), Dolly Parton, Carole King, and Peter Gabriel, among others.

Joe Strummer turns up in what the tabloids would now term "baby bump" news, and two Graces (Jones and Slick), errrr, grace these pages too. For the Where Are They Now files, look to the paragraph on Shrapnel--who appear to claim little more than a tenuous link to Norman Mailer--and the intro to Simon Townsend, who happens to be Pete Townsend's brother and whom I've never heard of since. And really, that picture of Grandmixer DST, Laurie Anderson, Billy Gibbons, and Bill Laswell may be the single greatest item in the whole magazine.



Moving on, the next section to catch my eye is Get Smart, anchored by the sage known as Jackie. I suspect Get Smart influenced me more than I realize, nurturing that combination of geeky bookishness and musical obsession we take for granted in the age of Wikipedia, message boards, mailing lists, and VH1 retrospectives.



I stopped reading reviews sometime around 11th grade, but I'm unexpectedly drawn to Short Cuts. Of course I zeroed in on the review of Duran Duran's Seven and the Ragged Tiger, mainly because I remember the barrage of outraged mail that followed this rather noncommittal appraisal. Then again, I was a pretty dedicated letter writer as a teenager too.

I chuckle at the inclusion of the Suburbs (if you remember them, your '80s knowledge is even better than mine) and Let's Active; the latter was championed so unfailingly by so many rock journalists back in the day--alas, to no avail. Overall, the featured reviews seem to offer a fairly representative overview of the hits of the day, though a couple of them (Paul Rodgers? .38 Special?) leave me baffled.

You know how every generation thinks they invented the wheel (sex, drugs, rebellion) when, in fact, they're all as old as time? Well, I'm pretty sure my generation had something to do with the invention of hip-hop--or at least its mainstream acceptance. I clearly recall the breakdancing contests in my junior high, so the (truncated) section on B-boys, head spins, and popping puts a smile on my face--even if I spent the '80s trying to distance myself from much of it, opting instead for asymmetrical haircuts, British accents, and frilly shirts, preferably on guys.

So far, I've probably seemed more amused by this magazine than in love with it--blame it on my Gen X sense of detachment, even from the things I really love. But as with Start!, I'm mad for "Ten for '84." Look at that list: Paul Young, INXS, New Order, Aztec Camera, JoBoxers, Cyndi Lauper, and motherfucking REM, years before the stadium tours! (I'll pretend not to notice Queensryche, and who the hell are the other two?) I don't care what you think of any of those musicians now, but I harbor strong memories connected to each and every one of those artists--well, maybe not JoBoxers, but I remember seeing their video on TV, and I can still sing the chorus of their hit song.

I've commented on the trinity of live reviews before, but fleshed out, they appear even odder. A German art group, an American R&B mainstay, and preeminent L.A. punk rockers--only one of which could claim anything approaching a following--share the same amount of column inches. Who'd have thunk it?

Though I mostly remember Star Hits as my British music bible, I'm not surprised to see non-New Wave names as the Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney, Michael Jackson, and Hall & Oates within the pages. Even Mike Reno's ode to Journey, though eminently mockable, makes sense. I mean, they were popular, on the charts, and all over MTV.

The one article that baffles me is the Doors story. Yes, Jim Morrison has always been an icon for young would-be poets and dreamers, and I'm sure college dorm rooms are still plastered with his image. I don't doubt the Doors' continuing appeal, but I don't see their place in Star Hits. Maybe the editors wanted to educate their young readers; maybe one of the writers really loved the group; maybe someone owed Ray Manzarek a favor. All I know is that it puts Star Hits a little too close to Rolling Stone territory--and that's definitely not what I wanted from the magazine.

On that sour note, our first close reading of Star Hits comes to an end. Enjoy these vintage pages, and peruse the covers gallery on Flickr. Hopefully we'll do this again.

See also:
» Download file: Star Hits, February 1984 [PDF]
» Star Hits: A tribute
» Star Hits magazine cover gallery [Flickr]

Obscurity Knocks: The Chameleons U.K., "Strange Times"

I don't read many music blogs or news sites, but I've been sucked in by Idolator, though not so much for the buying advice, the gossip, or the requisite snarkiness. Rather, the site's editors seem to have a broader view of the musical landscape, removed from crowning and/or tearing down the latest indie sensation.

One of my favorite semi-regular features on Idolator is the Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda Files, which celebrates releases that never gained traction with the general public, always a popular topic among dedicated music fans. Thus, I'm kicking off my version of every music lover's favorite game: If I Ruled the World. I'll probably cough up a few more iterations in this series whenever the concert schedule slows down.

The Chameleons U.K., Strange Times
To everyone who's read this blog for the last two-plus years: thank you kindly. But I've been a little disingenuous, as my longstanding Anglophilia has been woefully underrepresented on easily fooled. I'm just not that excited about the current crop of bands from England, but who knows? It's not the first time I've sworn off the U.K. hype machine, only to be fully assimilated by some shambling outfit out of Manchester, England.

Which brings me right to the Chameleons (or the Chameleons U.K., as they were known in the United States), who were indeed a shambling outfit out of Manchester, England. You can read the bio on allmusic, but a short recap: Formed in the early '80s, the Chameleons were classic underdogs who faced their share of Behind the Music-style cliches--early critical acclaim, followed by record company fiascoes, then eventually unraveling under the weight of personal issues.

The Chameleons weren't unknown in the States; they had a couple of "modern rock" hits ("Tears" and "Swamp Thing") off Strange Times, and they toured here at least once--including a visit to One Step Beyond, a club in Santa Clara, California, I frequented as a teenager on its "youth nights" (bwahahahaha). Strange Times, backed by Geffen Records, was supposed to be their breakthrough in America, and they even got a write-up in the New York Times. Alas, it turned out to be their swan song, though numerous live albums and reissues came out later. I finally got to see them live in 2000 when they regrouped, but they broke up again the following year.

Though my cultural barometer is shot these days, I swear that neither the Smiths nor the Cure were popular in 1983 at Sylvandale Junior High--or in 1987 at Oak Grove High School, for that matter. But I can assure everyone that the Chameleons have never broken through to anything approaching the level of notoriety enjoyed by either former cult band. Case in point: A dear friend I've known 20+ years is also a major Chameleons fan, but for several years after meeting each other, we didn't realize we had this in common, though we talked about music all the time.

If you read this blog for my current musical preferences, this album is likely not for you. The production on Strange Times is straight up '80s--that is, the drums are huge, but oddly, they're slightly turned down from the Chameleons' earlier releases. And synth fills were used in the making of this album. But hey, if you can listen to U2's early releases, you should be able to give the Chameleons a chance.

If, then, you put the disc on for a spin, you'll hear the lead-off track "Mad Jack" and its opening thunderbolt of guitar. About 5 seconds into the second track "Caution," you might notice a tickle of fretwork, followed about 20 seconds later by shimmery, expansive chords that are so welcoming, they practically roll out the carpet for you. Dave Fielding was the man responsible for that sound, one of the two elements that sealed the Chameleons' standing in my book. At the time, all I knew was that he made it sound soooooo cool, simultaneously jagged and crystalline, nothing like the vapid, preening cock rock that has always ruled American radio. This was my idea of heaven; for many years afterward, nearly any band that came close to those acoustics went straight to the top of my list of new faves. But all in due time.

The Chameleons grabbed me on another front: Mark Burgess's impassioned lyrics and vocals. OK, that's two things, but they're kinda the same. Again, to unfamiliar ears, the lyrics, like the production, might seem over the top, but they were both a salve and a spark to my angst-ridden teenage soul. Certainly songs such as "Childhood," "I Remember," and "Time/The End of Time," fixated on the past, but the tunes that stayed with me addressed feelings of alienation and the struggle to remain an individual. For example, there's "Soul in Isolation," with its cry of "I'm alive in here" (and its ability, to this day, to make one of my best friends burst into tears); the sprawling, spiraling "Caution"; and a lyrical nod to Wordsworth in "Swamp Thing," which always struck me as an '80s-stamped bastard child of "Come Together."

If you ask any former New Waver about the Chameleons, odds are the only song they'll remember by the band is "Tears"--as well they should. This was the Chameleons' take on pop perfection: guileless but not cloying lyrics about loss; a sunny but forceful melody; a steady, emphatic beat; and lucid touches of guitar. "Tears," along with the unexpectedly tender "In Answer" ("you own my soul completely...you're all that matters to me"), showed a delicate side to this otherwise gruff Manchester crew.

Listen:
» The Chameleons: "Mad Jack"
» The Chameleons: "Caution"
» The Chameleons: "Tears (Original Version)"

See also:
» Star Hits: a tribute

there's nothing I wouldn't do, including doing nothing

I'm deathly afraid (well, as much as a woman who proudly maintains a pristine, 20-year-old Star Hits collection can be) of falling prey to '80s nostalgia, but every now and then, I can't resist catching a band from my teenage years. I mean, you'll never find me at a Cure or Depeche Mode gig, and I even gave up on Duran Duran years ago, but when Scritti Politti--on their first-ever tour of North America, no less--announces a show, I have to be there.

Scritti Politti, Slim's, November 2, 2006: It's probably a good thing that Scritti Politti didn't come around when I was younger, as there would've been no way for me to see them live, and I would've been left stewing for the last 20-odd years. Instead, I watched the videos, pored over Green Gartside's Derrida- and Lacan-inflected interviews, and drooled over the singer from the comfort of my own home. Apparently, "Perfect Way" was a huge hit all over the country, but in my backwater, non-Brit-loving corner of San Jose known as Sylvandale Junior High, I had no idea it had any hold on the populace outside of me and my circle of friends.

I struggle every time I blog about '80s music, though not for lack of words or material. Rather, I wrestle with two decades' worth of recollections, distractions, and chagrin before I approach anything resembling relevance. I also find it difficult to feign impartiality about the era; it was only around the turn of the century that I realized not every song needed huge drum fills and glossy Fairlight samples. Seriously, I just assumed that was the way modern music was supposed to sound. Bwahahahahahahahaha.

Still, I maintain that Scritti Politti's "Perfect Way" is a pristine slice of '80s pop culture. Music writers much more knowledgeable than myself have defended the tune's production values, but I can assure you that the video, directed by the team of Peter Kagan and Paula Greif, marked a major turning point for the decade's promo clips.

You may not know Kagan and Greif by name, but most likely, you're no stranger to their artsy, quick-cut style, which was a huge antidote to the overarching mini movies such as "Thriller," "Like a Virgin," "Let's Dance," and *gulp* "Hungry Like the Wolf" dominating MTV at the time. Their videos alternated between footage that was supersaturated and black-and-white, unfinished and polished, shot in slo mo and real time, and they featured the beauties who would later comprise the first (and greatest) wave of supermodels: Christy Turlington, Tatjana Patitz, and Veronica Webb, to name a few.

In fact, Paula Greif was one of the creators of the anti-video look on the Smiths' groundbreaking "How Soon Is Now," and that clip's grainy texture and discordant feel would be common elements in the duo's videos. Ironically, the team would go on to direct videos for Steve Winwood ("Higher Love") and Duran Duran ("Notorious," "Skin Trade," and "Meet El President"), among others, but "Perfect Way" hit the airwaves before the big names came calling, and it showed off all their visual trademarks. Unfortunately, nearly every metal video from 1987 on would bastardize this look, but for a brief window of time, it was solely the calling card of style-savvy bands.

The point of this detour: such is the power of the "Perfect Way" video that I didn't realize Green Gartside played an instrument! Deep down, I probably knew that he did something other than button his shirt to the top (such a fashion statement of the time), push his preternaturally floppy hair out of his big blue eyes, and make teenage girls sigh. Perhaps.

So the sight of Green playing a guitar (adorned by, appropriately, a big Philosophy sticker) at Slim's was a bit jarring, but it was overshadowed by other revelations. For one, he's now on Nonesuch--home to a certain band I like so much, as well as the label that released a particular movie soundtrack containing one of my favorite songs of all time by my preferred working film composer.

Also, never in a million years could my 14-year-old self have anticipated that the handsome Welshman would become a respected and evangelistic hip-hop acolyte in the '90s. We got a few of the hip-hop collaborations at this show and a Jeru the Damaja cover, with Green apologetically filling in for the absent rappers. I think my favorite song of the night was "Die Alone," a slinky duet with Me'Shell NdegéOcello (not present). Then again, Scritti Politti has always had a funkier bent, and even the band's pop-era singles have displayed a reggae lilt; I had no business being so surprised.

Backing Green was a five-piece band with a fairly elaborate setup. The drummer had two different kits: one analog (?), the other electric. I counted no fewer than four Apple laptops onstage. And one player, besides filling in on percussion, keyboards, and bass guitar, seemed to have been primarily entrusted with switching out Green's lyrics sheets. They all looked like they were having fun, though, and Green seemed as relaxed as he could be around them.

They played a mix of old and new, and Green understandably afforded more exposition to the newer songs, such as "Mrs. Hughes," about a former English teacher who told him that he wouldn't amount to anything and her equally dire husband. He seemed fairly pragmatic about the old songs, and of course "The Word Girl" and "Wood Beez" got huge responses from the audience. My mind was seized by an alarming image of a room full of aging '80s dancers flooding Slim's main floor, but the familiar synth opening and that one shimmering guitar riff in "Wood Beez" brought my mind back to the music. As I understand it, the band has sworn off "Perfect Way," but I didn't mind the absence.

For all the reports of Green's stage fright, he seemed to have a firm handle on the situation. He was self-deprecating and charming, and he brought in the other players often. His singing voice is exactly the same in concert as it is on the records, but his speaking voice is, for lack of a better word, normal--and posh. The only small blot was that he wasn't feeling well and skipped four songs on the setlist, though he begged off in a ridiculously sweet manner. A few songs in, he even asked the club management to bring him a banana to eat so that he wouldn't black out (they obliged). At the end, he told us that we were the best audience ever. It might've meant more if he weren't notorious for never touring, but after 20 years of waiting, we're easy that way.

Since I've already been so inelegant and heavy-handed in my gushing references to Green's appearance, I might as well come clean and devote a whole section to it. The floppy, frosted hair has been replaced by a much shorter and more natural crop and a goatee, but he looked at least 10 years younger than his age (51?!?). Following a fervent round of YouTubing/Googling a bunch of old clips and interviews (did you know Miles Davis covered "Perfect Way"?!?), I decided he was far too pretty in the '80s--very generous of me, I know. Now, with his blue hoodie, green DC Shoes t-shirt, and matching Converse, he's the epitome of the hip, attractive older man. Sigh.

And if that isn't a sign I need to stop right now, I don't know what is. Thanks for humoring me. Please join me again when I return to the 21st century.

See also:
» Star Hits: a tribute

nothing left to bring me back today

Big thanks to Maudie (the award-winning photog), Trish, Denise, and the compound for helping me commemorate my emancipation. It's a good thing cupcakes are accepted as legal tender in their fiefdom.

The Plimsouls, Cafe du Nord, July 7, 2006: I truly love the '80s, but I sometimes question my own recollections of the decade. Sequestered in a little corner of the 'burbs--way before the Internet existed--I can't swear if my take on popular or, conversely, obscure pop culture jibes with others'.

But I'm pretty sure that in the early '80s, we were a ways off from the full commoditization of "alternative" music. For some of us, the jangly guitar opened the door to a whole different world of music, away from the oversize production values and the synthesizers more prevalent in the songs of the time. REM, of course, was one of the most noted purveyors of this sound, but there were other awesome bands in that vein, including the Plimsouls.

It was many years later that I learned the Plimsouls were part of a groundswell of LA bands, but even now (for better or for worse), they'll forever be associated with that pivotal scene in Valley Girl. For all our reminiscing, however, the crowd turned out to be a lot more male dominated than we expected. Then again, Peter Case has established a decent solo career over the years and has earned his following the old-fashioned way, regardless of demographics.

I can't tell you much about the songs, except that, of course, they did The Hit, which they wisely rolled into a medley to sustain that energy. They even did a couple of new songs off their upcoming album. I was more familiar with the covers, three of which I recognized. A couple were not surprising: the Creation's "Making Time," and "Dizzy Miss Lizzie," which revealed their proto power-pop influences. But when they hit up Television's "Glory," I was taken by surprise. Television's meandering rhythms and, especially, Tom Verlaine's crooked vocals would seem diametrically opposed to the Plimsouls' straightforward rock, but it was a nice touch.

The openers were called Magic Christian, a four-piece out of San Francisco, comprising Cyril Jordan (the original guitarist from the Flaming Groovies) and other San Francisco-area veterans, though Prairie Prince wasn't present tonight. They looked like they had taken a page out of the Rodney Bingenheimer school of aging (disgracefully) and wouldn't have been out of place playing the Whiskey A-Go-Go 30 years ago. Nonetheless, they churned out perfect little, errrr, nuggets of pop music.

Star Hits: A tribute

I've been a shell of a person since Jon Brion's hiatus, and I hate everything I post that isn't music related--thus, the silence. To paraphrase Lisa Simpson: Better to be thought a fool than to blog and remove all doubt.

As a diversion, I'd like to present a big influence from my teenage years. (Those of you who'd like to be spared the hassle, you might not want to check back until the end of the month, which is when my next string of gigs is coming up. Must. Stay. Strong.)
=======================================
I've already wasted too much time on Rolling Stone. Spin? Spun! For me, music journalism begins and ends with one title: Star Hits. I still purchase Magnet and the like, but none hold a candle to my erstwhile North *ahem* Star.

Everyone who knows me knows one thing: Like nearly every child of the '80s, I was crazy about Duran Duran in my adolescence (and--gulp--beyond). Yes, I now understand all the criticisms lodged against them, but at the time, they opened up a new world to me. I probably shouldn't admit this, but if it weren't for Duran Duran, I may never have discovered Roxy Music, Yohji Yamamoto, or Wilfred Owen. And despite the miles of press the band garnered, no magazine covered them like Star Hits did. (For the international readers, in the United States, it was known as Star Hits, but Smash Hits started it all in the United Kingdom.)

I came for Duran Duran, but I stayed for everything else. I owe/blame my 20-odd years of Anglophilia to the magazine, and I worshipped the rag for mundanities such as its use of heavy, quality paper and full-color spreads--all the better to tape them to my locker at school. I drooled over the ads listing "limited edition" import releases. I longed to be Jackie, the seemingly omniscient doyenne of the Get Smart column. Last but not least, I hung on every word of "advice" dished out by the sardonic Bold Type.

In our retro-crazy times, it's hard to recall correctly what was and wasn't popular back in the day. Anyone can claim to have "discovered" REM and the Smiths in 1984, but if you look at those early issues of Star Hits, you can see for yourself. Granted, the magazine wasn't going to take home any Pulitzers, but it inhabited a middle ground between the pure drivel of a teenybop magazine and the sanctimonious snobbery of, say, the British music weeklies.

But enough of my proselytizing--let's take a look at the table of contents of the debut issue (pictured above). Sure, Duran Duran, Madonna, David Bowie, and Culture Club are predictable enough, and even Big Country, the Alarm, and Spandau Ballet would break through to a small degree in the states. I love that the Rolling Stones, breakdancing, and Grace Jones all share column inches, but this may be my favorite single item in the entire listing:



If you've ever attended a wedding, you don't need to read another word about Kool and the Gang and its '80s-era lineup. Instead, please note the top-billed band: X, who've never been particularly renowned in this country. And finally, there's Trio, who were known by very few people in this country until Volkswagen used their song in an ad--in 1997, or 13 years after this review ran. Ah, how I loved this magazine.

Alas, as the decade wore on, Star Hits became more of a glorified Duran Duran fanzine (not that I complained), and it finally folded in the late '80s, around the same time the band's fan base moved on. I was such a media nerd, however, that I pored over bylines of other magazines for a glimpse of life from my favorite writers. I didn't have to look far--a lot of the writers continued to work for British publications, while Chris Heath became a Rolling Stone mainstay, and David Keeps landed at Details (where he received and responded to my gushing fan letter). Later, I found out that Suzan Colon took a post at YM, and I was kinda tickled a couple of years ago when I read that Ian Birch took over the helm of TV Guide. Oh, and there's that Star Hits cofounder and former writer who went on to a different related career: Neil Tennant, half of the Pet Shop Boys.

Thank you, Star Hits, for the initial spark and the continuing inspiration.

Note: This post was made possible by my BFF, who kept her magazines in pristine condition and entrusted me with their care, long after mine had squandered our precious natural resources in a landfill.

See also:
» Star Hits: A close reading