Category Archives: 80s

Forty Years On: Favorite Music from 1986 Part II

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I like to think of March 1986 as the point where there was a significant shift in music, at least in my personal view.

On the last weekend of February, MTV dropped Pleasant Valley Sunday, a day-long celebration of The Monkees, by playing all fifty-eight episodes back to back, much to the delight of thousands of GenXers like myself who grew up watching the show in syndication. [It proved so popular that the series became part of a regular line-up on the channel for a time, and Micky, Peter and Davy (and later Mike) soon went on an extremely successful reunion tour and even dropped a few new tunes later in the year.]

On the tenth of March, MTV also premiered the Sunday-overnight show 120 Minutes, an idea spawned by music writer and snark-extraordinaire Dave Kendall (yet not hosted by him for another few years, though he’d do the record reviews), initially planned as an AOR-heavy show but soon morphing into a showcase for the early and influential years of alternative rock. The show itself would become a cult favorite several years before the breakthrough of grunge.

Closer to home, I’d been moving away from the hard rock radio of WAAF whose playlist was veering dangerously towards hair metal, and away from WAQY who seemed happy to stay in what was fast becoming classic rock. I was listening more to the AOR and modern rock of WMDK and WRSI, though I’d still check up on American Top 40 on the weekends. I’d also been reading a lot of issues of Smash Hits (then called Star Hits here in the States), a music magazine geared more towards the hipper UK bands than the gloss of American pop. I’d been looking for a personal change for a while by then, and this avenue was certainly appealing to me.

There’s a lot to cover, so here we go!

The Triffids, Born Sandy Devotional, released March 1986. I believe I discovered this band via Night Flight on USA Network, as one of their episodes featured a focus on Australian bands. It would be long time before I picked anything up by them, but I would often hear a song or two by them on WMDK over the next year or so. This would be one of their best-loved albums by its fans.

Sonic Youth, EVOL, released March 1986. I’m pretty sure I heard of this band in passing on WAAF and through the music papers, but never really paid much attention other than seeing the video for “Shadow of a Doubt” either on an early 120 Minutes episode or on Night Flight. They were, however, a band I’d see constantly in the record shops once I actively started going to places like Al Bum’s and Main Street Music. I’m pretty sure I might have seen them at Strawberries as well.

The Go-Betweens, Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express, released March 1986. I don’t remember if this band was mentioned on that Night Flight episode, but they were another band I’d heard about. They’re a critic favorite that you just can’t seem to find anywhere and rarely hear on the radio, but I’d eventually see them (and fall in love with them) soon enough.

Dumptruck, Positively Dumptruck, released March 1986. I’d known about this band primarily because they were from Boston, and there was a great writer in the Worcester Telegram that would always highlight and push local groups. “Secrets” was played on the first 120 Minutes episode I’d tape and later watch (and rewatch endlessly). Surprisingly, it took me years to actually add them to my library!

New Order, “Shellshock” single, released March 1986. It’s funny how this was the first New Order song I’d heard, and yet I didn’t know it was them for months until I finally got a copy of the Pretty in Pink soundtrack. I wouldn’t own anything by them until late 1987 when I picked up the cassette of their Substance album, and they’d become a regular go-to in my Walkman for the next several years.

INXS, “What You Need” single, released (US) March 1986. This had already been a successful single in Australia, but it got major airplay here in the States when it was released as a later single. There was a lot of crossover here as well, having gotten play not only on MTV and chart radio, but also on heavy rock and AOR stations as well. This was a song I’d hear on WMDK quite often. It became one of my favorite tracks of that year, and it pops up on several of my mixtapes (sometimes more than once!).

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As you can see, I could not exactly pinpoint the release date of the above titles, as they’re not listed anywhere online that I could find, so I just have them tagged as “3/1/1986” in my library. Now to the dated songs!

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Metallica, Master of Puppets, released 3 March 1986. This album is why I knew about them well before their self-titled 1991 breakthrough album, as they would get a fair bit of play on the evening shows on WAAF, where they’d play deeper cuts and more guitar-virtuoso performers. It wasn’t exactly in my wheelhouse at the time, though I was quite aware of them.

Depeche Mode, Black Celebration, released 17 March 1986. I knew about this band due to their 1984 hit “People Are People”, but it wasn’t until a few months after this release that I finally broke down and started buying their stuff, starting with this one and 1985’s Catching Up with Depeche Mode. This was of course after discovering and becoming hopelessly obsessed with college radio in April, but it all fell into place perfectly for me: they’d just dropped a highly popular record on a major US label, they were getting a lot of print in Star/Smash Hits because of it, and they were one of the first bands I latched onto when I started poring through Ira Robbins’ Trouser Press Record Guide. I bought this one on cassette and it would get an incredible amount of play on my Walkman over the next three years, getting me through a lot of teen emotional turmoil and deeply influencing a lot of my writing around this time.

Hüsker Dü, Candy Apple Grey, released 17 March 1986. I’d heard of this band via that same writer in the Worcester Telegram as the band played in the area off and on, but the first time I’d actually heard them was on WAAF of all places. One of the deejays at the time was a big fan and was super excited that they’d signed to a major label, and “Don’t Want to Know if You Are Lonely” got some play on the station for a brief time. I’d end up buying this one on one of my many forays into the dollar bins over the next few years.

Van Halen, 5150, released 24 March 1986. I know this seems a little out of place here, but I’d never gotten sick of this band, having grown up with them getting heavy airplay on both WAAF and WAQY. This was an important make-or-break album for them, as David Lee Roth had exited the band and Sammy Hagar had taken his place, and no one knew what they would sound like. The teaser single “Why Can’t This Be Love” would be a major hit on rock radio and kickstart the popular ‘Van Hagar’ era with several charting singles. And yes, I did see them live on this tour in August (with Bachmann-Turner Overdrive opening)!

Joe Jackson, Big World, released 24 March 1986. I was of course familiar with him thanks to his early 80s videos getting a lot of play on MTV, but by this time he’d disappeared from the channel, only to become a favorite on AOR stations like WMDK. The bluesy “Right and Wrong” got some airtime, and the quirky yet fascinating album (three sides, all new songs recorded live just a few months previous with the audience mixed out) became a fan favorite.

Pet Shop Boys, Please, released 24 March 1986. I absolutely fell in love with the single “West End Girls” from day one and borrowed my sister’s copy of this album all the time until I finally owned my own, and it remains one of my favorite albums of that year. I loved that it was essentially a synthpop album but without the gloom of UK new wave or the disposability of chart pop; it was something in between, something I could latch onto and enjoy. I’ve been a fan ever since. “West End Girls” also kickstarted one of my works of juvenilia at the time, the next project I worked on after finishing the Infamous War Novel: a John Hughes-inspired teen comedy, and my first attempt at writing a screenplay.

Prince, Parade (Music from the Motion Picture ‘Under the Cherry Moon’), released 31 March 1986. I was a big Prince fan by this time, having utterly loved both the Purple Rain and Around the World in a Day albums and wanted to keep tabs on his releases. I remember WMDK talking about him earlier in the year: they’d mentioned that he’d been working on a quirky project of songs under the pseudonym of Camille, and that he was also working with the Revolution on a multi-disc record as well. [These projects of course would start as Camille and Crystal Ball, lose the Revolution mid-year, and eventually morph into 1987’s brilliant Sign ‘o’ the Times.] In the meantime, however, he’d kept himself busy by filming his second movie and recording its oddball soundtrack. “Kiss” was the teaser single that blew everyone’s mind, but for me it was the single “Mountains” that won me over with its infectious groove.

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Next up: Discovering College Radio and Playing Both Sides

Forty Years On: Favorite Music from 1986 Part I

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There’s been a meme going over on Threads lately about it being the 40th anniversary of several great albums released in 1986, and of course this means that I’d need to get in on that nonsense. That was an interesting year for fifteen-year-old me for a few reasons. One, I would soon be finishing my very first completed novel (aka the Infamous War Novel, a bit of juvenilia with heavy Red Dawn vibes) that would set off a future career that’s still with me to this day. Two, it was right about the time I’d started moving away from commercial pop and rock radio and more towards AOR and other genres. And of course, it was also the pivotal year when I discovered college radio. [And because I wouldn’t do the third until April vacation and thus not discover a lot of bands until much later in the year, several of these songs would grab my attention at that time.]

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The Church, Heyday, released January 1986. I’d heard of the band before, various music magazines having sung their praises for a few years by then, but “Tantalized” was probably the first track I’d heard, most likely on WMDK (the local AOR station I’d started obsessing over) and later when I started watching 120 Minutes on MTV.

The Call, Reconciled, released February 1986. I remember really liking “The Walls Came Down” from their 1983 album Modern Romans, which got some decent play on MTV and WAQY, but it was the song “I Still Believe (Great Design)” that blew my mind. Yes, I know, most of you remember this from The Lost Boys and the be-mulleted/abs-for-days Tim Cappello, but that version doesn’t even come close to the power and strength of the original. I’d pick up the album at Strawberries soon after and listened to it quite often.

Public Image Ltd, Album, released 3 February 1986. Yeah, I know he’s become a bit of a bigoted prick these days (this is what usually happens when your only superpower is being an insufferable contrarian), but back then it was great to hear such a call to arms in the Reagan/Thatcher days like the thunderous “Rise”.

Janet Jackson, Control, released 4 February 1986. Meanwhile, waaaaay on the other side of the spectrum, Michael’s little sister finally breaks the glass ceiling with the help of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and becomes a powerhouse of constant hits that last for years. At the time I didn’t think too much about picking this album up, but all the big singles grew on me and I just couldn’t resist. The whole record is a banger from start to finish.

Stan Ridgway, The Big Heat, released 10 February 1986. The former Wall of Voodoo singer shows up unexpectedly with a leftfield favorite with “Drive, She Said” which got a lot of play on AOR stations like WMDK. This album was really hard to find for me for some reason, and I wouldn’t own it until years later when I found it in a discount bin during my college years.

Talk Talk, The Colour of Spring, released 20 February 1986. This remains on my list of all-time-favorite songs, simple though it may be. I remember kinda liking it but being blown away by the video when it was introduced by one Elvis Costello on MTV one day. It’s also a song I remember crossing over all over the place, not only on the music channel but on rock radio, AOR, and even on the pop stations.

Elvis Costello (as The Costello Show featuring the Attractions and Confederates), King of America, released 21 February 1986. I remember WMDK playing his loungy cover of “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” quite a bit, even though the album itself didn’t do much of anything in the States at the time. It’s an odd one in his discography, done more for his own enjoyment than any attempt at popularity.

The Pogues, Poguetry in Motion EP, released 24 February 1986. Another track I heard a lot on WMDK was “A Rainy Night in Soho”. I’d heard of the band and most likely heard their more spirited tracks from Red Roses for Me a year or so previous, but I was pleasantly surprised by how lovely this track is. I’d pick up the EP on vinyl not long thereafter.

Soundtrack, Pretty in Pink, released 26 February 1986. If anything, this is probably my second favorite John Hughes film, just after The Breakfast Club. I know I’d seen it in the theater and enjoyed it, but it was maybe some time later when I watched it again on video (we’d finally jumped on the bandwagon, bought a VHS player and started renting movies as a weekend entertainment). My copy of the soundtrack was dubbed (Side B of a ninety minute cassette, with The Breakfast Club soundtrack on the other side), but I’d eventually own my own copy later on.

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More to come!

Catching up on music with… KMFDM

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I do have a soft spot (heh) for industrial music. I don’t listen to it all that often, but I’ve loved it since I first heard those dance beats, clanky percussion and crunchy guitars in the late 80s with bands like DAF and Front 242 and Skinny Puppy and Ministry. Which means I was into it well before all those sci-fi action films of the 90s used this genre for all those martial arts fight scenes! [Looking at you, Mortal Kombat and Matrix movies!]

I used to see KMFDM at the indie record stores all the time, which is a surprise considering Wax Trax! releases (the label they’d been on for years) weren’t always easy to find. They’ve been around since the early 80s themselves, starting out in Germany and eventually emigrating to the States. I’m pretty sure I’d heard one or two of their songs on WAMH back in 1988-89, as there was an industrial/techno/EBM show that would play stuff like this.

I owned only a few of their CDs back in the day, but I’d throw them on now and again when I needed the boost for something that would fit the Mendaihu Universe’s more tense moments that I was writing at the time. [Interestingly enough, this is the kind of music Alec Poe would listen to, which goes quite against the laid back aura he puts out through most of the trilogy. It’s all under the skin and hidden away with him.]

They’re still around these days, having dropped an original album (Let Go) early last year and a revisit of an older album this year (Hau Ruck 2025). They may not get a lot of airplay, but they’re definitely an interesting band to check out.

I Had My MTV

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I’ll freely admit that I’m firmly on the Gen-Xer side of ‘remembering MTV back when it played music videos’. We’re talking the early 80s here, back when my family signed up for cable TV via Warner Amex. I’d heard about the channel via its mention in music magazines like Rolling Stone and its occasional “I want my MTV” commercial showing up here and there. The first videos I remember seeing on the channel was .38 Special’s “Hold On Loosely” and The Police’s “Spirits in the Material World”. It was sometime in 1982, and I was already well entrenched in rock radio and American Top 40, even at eleven years old. I was completely hooked.

I think what appealed to me, even as a preteen, was the fact that the channel tried so hard to be at the forefront of music culture, yet also felt like one of those low-budget community access channels where the production teams and the on-air hosts really didn’t know what the hell they were doing half the time. That was part of its charm! They knew enough to replay all the music videos that got a positive reaction from its viewers, but they weren’t afraid to insert weird things like Blotto’s “I Wanna Be a Lifeguard” or Yello’s “The Evening’s Young” to keep us on our toes. Hell, I even loved those one or two minute bumper fillers that were basically public domain films set to nameless instrumentals.

I bring this up following the recent news that the channel has chosen to shut down all of its UK channels by the end of the year, with the possibility of more channels in other countries going the way of the buffalo as well. Not that anyone is surprised these days, considering that the original channel plays reality shows and the tertiary smaller channels are mostly available via cable TV packages.

Most music videos show up on YouTube and TikTok these days, and that might be a good thing when you want to watch the new Taylor Swift video now instead of waiting for it to show up at some point in the next hour or so. But what we miss, just like streaming versus terrestrial radio, is two-fold: we miss out on the slow anticipation that our favorite band or singer will show up like some kind of mini-event, and we miss out on the potential discovery of music we might otherwise not have noticed on the way there.

I don’t necessarily miss those MTV days of yore. I’ve got a lot of great memories, and I’m glad I was there to witness the world premieres and the unscripted moments and the holiday countdowns. I’m thrilled that I was part of the era that got to see all those amazing bands and singers grow and evolve into world-dominating celebrities. I’m especially thankful that it played an extremely influential part in my life when I discovered 120 Minutes.

It was a specific point in time, just slightly ahead of the curve and unafraid to take chances. It was an era of two completely different iterations of pop music — the US and the UK — crashing into each other, influencing each side of the Atlantic and reaching out into the cosmos with something new and fascinating. It influenced the sound of rock and pop for decades to come, allowing it to evolve in unexpected directions.

Now that we have instant gratification at our internet fingertips, having that kind of cable channel doesn’t quite have the power and the reach that it once did. Sure, had they the budget and the creativity and less of the stakeholder influence, MTV itself could have evolved into something unique. Instead, it slowly faded away into yet another benchwarmer channel playing innocuous reality shows and viral videos of people doing stupid things.

That’s the one thing I wish had been different about the channel as it got older and less influential: it could have gone out on a high note rather than limping along well past its lifespan.

It’s been a while…

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Shocking revelation: I haven’t made a mixtape since the year-end collection back in December.

To be honest, part of it was due to prepping and packing and moving and unpacking and banking and settling in and everything else that goes along with buying a home while still juggling the Day Job. I put my mixtapes (and in effect, this blog) aside for a little bit while I got my life back in order once more.

I’d been tempted multiple times, but I just didn’t have the time or the inclination. Similar to my putting aside the journaling and the word counting and the whiteboard schedule, I felt it was time to properly step away for a bit to recharge. Aside from the book-centric mixes I’d been creating for my writing, I hadn’t been listening to the ones I’d made over the last couple of years, and that started to annoy me. They’re good mixes, they’re just not getting played, and that’s because I needed the brainspace.

We’ve been living here for at least three months now, and that itch to make mixtapes is returning. Sometimes I think about where and when I’d actually listen to them, considering I can’t really do that at my Day Job, and my commute is a seven-minute, sixteen-block drive. Days off and during writing sessions, then. And it occurs to me — that kind of thinking is exactly what’s turning me away from it instead of towards it. Mixtape listening isn’t about setting aside a specific time to put in that latest volume of Walk in Silence or Untitled or Re:Defined. One of the main reasons I chose to disconnect from mixtape-making was the same reason I’d stopped the whiteboard schedule: I was making myself too regimented, and that was taking all the fun and the spontaneity out of it.

As expected, the time away has given me time to connect (or reconnect) a bit closer to my music library, especially now that I’ve managed to back away from the mad frenzy of discography completism and obsessive listening to KEXP (which I still do, just to a lesser degree). I’m relearning how to just enjoy the music I hear, and I’m glad about that. I’m feeling a lot more connected in the right ways once again.

Interestingly, the outcome of this is that making any mixtapes now feels a bit like when I started making them in earnest back in May-June of 1988. I’d made a ton of mixes before that of course — what I refer to as my ‘radio tapes’ era for obvious reasons — but I hadn’t made any personal sourced-from-records/tapes mixes before, at least none made with any seriousness, up until that point. Those original first mixtapes were not about making seasonal mixes at all — they were about collecting my favorite songs at the time, songs I didn’t have in my collection that I could borrow from others, and most of all, they were mixes I could enjoy at any time.

And I think I’m finally getting to that point once again, for the first time in years.

The choice of the last generation

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So there have been a few things (memes, engagement bait, the usual) going around on Threads about GenX and music lately that got me thinking. One in particular commented on how my generation was one of the last to really immerse ourselves in our favorite music to an obsessive degree, and how the extreme prevalence of social media kind of took away the ability to slow down and connect with our favorite things for more than a few minutes at a time.

I suppose I agree to this to some level, given that the internets have dulled my sense of glomming onto an amazing album that I listen to over and over, something I would frequently do with gusto in the 80s and 90s and maybe into the early 00s. While I don’t think social media was the sole direct reason for this, I could conceivably say that it did rewire my brain a bit to cause it indirectly. Over the last several years, I became more obsessed with the tsundoku of collecting new releases and full discographies, given how easy it is to do so these days in digital format. And in the process, I forgot to latch onto those few albums that truly change me, whether personally, emotionally or creatively. [This is something I’ve been working to correct over the last several months.]

Those Threads posts did, however, get me thinking about those years in the late 80s when my music obsessions first started peaking. And in the spirit of the “we’re the last generation to experience this” theme, I started thinking: In a way I get this, especially when I think about 120 Minutes. When I was in high school, specifically my junior and senior years, the number of kids I knew who loved music as much as I do, let alone what kind of music I listened to, I could probably count on two hands.

I wasn’t just a weirdo nerd who obsessed over dorky things like radio and records, I was also one of the VERY few kids who wore those Cure and Smiths tee-shirts to school. That was why those two years were so formative and memorable: that brief stretch from late 1986 to late 1988 were the only moments in time in my youth when I’d been able to surround myself with people of similar mindsets and musical tastes. Again, this was well before social media where I can now easily find and follow a music nerd of equal obsessiveness in about ten seconds.

Watching 120 Minutes, then, was that little bit of extra excitement and hope for me. It wasn’t just about listening to this different style of music, this ‘college rock’ or ‘modern rock’ as it may have been called, that I loved so much. I was also about connecting with an alternative lifestyle that I knew existed somewhere outside of my tiny life in the small town I lived in. For those brief two years this was something I could share with a dozen or so other kids, and they understood just as I did how fleeting this kind of thing was, back before social media permanently and constantly connected us all together. I couldn’t help but feel that bit of lingering hope that somewhere out there, well beyond the unending forests of small town central New England, were more kids like myself.

In a way, it’s like tsundoku in a social setting: knowing there are others out there, just waiting to be met, even if we never do. And that was just enough to make me feel a little less alone.

As for the title I used above, the choice of the last generation: this was a tagline at the end of one of the ten-second buffers for the show. It’s a very GenX phrase at that: one, it riffs ironically on Pepsi’s then popular culture-grab tag (“the choice of a new generation”), but also on the back end of the Cold War, when we still weren’t sure if the Soviets were going to bomb us into oblivion. Added to the fact that the visuals for the buffer were pulled from two music videos with dire themes: Laibach’s cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” (torch-bearing soldiers marching slo-mo through semi-darkness towards a village bonfire) and Killing Joke’s “A New Day” (the slow rise of the morning sun behind a ragged and bare mountain), that tagline fading in at the final moment like a stark reminder of our potential mortality at the hands of others. Heady stuff to see at 1am on a Sunday night when you’re overtired and not looking forward to another week of dealing with jocks at school and grim news in real life.

But at the same time, as a GenXer, we embraced that grim reminder because we dared to. Because there was that slim chance that it would all get better. Because it was easier to embrace the darkness than to curse the one candle that someone else inevitably controlled. Because darkness was where the more interesting, the more creative, the more alternative things hide. We knew there were alternatives out there, beyond what was being fed to us.

Sometimes I think about that, and sometimes I remind myself that this was how GenX survived the jocks and the bulllies, how they survived the Reagan and Thatcher years, how they survived the Cold War, and how they taught themselves to see life in different ways.

And these days, sometimes I hope that newer generations learn how to do this as well.

Favorite Songs: Crowded House, “Don’t Dream It’s Over”

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Interestingly, whenever I think of the 80s golden era of MTV’s 120 Minutes, I think of this song. It was one of the first videos I remember seeing when I started taping it on Sunday nights so I could watch it after school on Monday. It’s one of the first alternative rock songs I can think of that got more than light rotation on the channel outside of that show. If I recall, this video wasn’t actually on the first episode I’d taped but the last video just before the show started. Somehow it just hit me the right way just then and I was hooked. I remember picking up the single at the local department store on the edge of town one rainy afternoon just before I had to get myself fitted for a suit for some formal thing I’ve since forgotten.

I’d been a Split Enz fan earlier, of course. I owned their 1982 album Time and Tide (the one with “Dirty Creature”, “Never Ceases to Amaze Me” and “Six Months in a Leaky Boat”, all of which got play in the early days of the channel). So when the younger Finn brother Neil chose to go it alone after their 1984 split, I was curious. Would they be as quirky and catchy, or would they go in a different direction? By 1986, it would seem he’d take the latter route, taking his songwriting much more seriously, his style becoming more Beatles-inspired. [He’d eventually come full circle with 2024’s CH album Gravity Stairs, which has a very Revolver influence to it, especially its album cover.] This track would be a surprise worldwide hit, even here in the States where it made it all the way to the Billboard’s top ten.

I think the other thing that appealed to me was the guitar work on this song. In a decade of squealy solos and beefy barre chords, this was a song with gorgeous semi-acoustic resonance and curious augmentation. The lyrics told of a life in temporary limbo with an uncertain hope that things would eventually get better. The video manages to capture that perfectly, with Neil walking through room after dusty room, with his bandmates doing all sorts of mundane things like ironing, having breakfast, rehearsing their music. The payoff at the end isn’t success, but escape: Neil finally exits the seemingly endless house, puts on his coat, and walks away into the brightness of the landscape, that emotional weight no longer on his shoulders.

I still hear this song now and again, often while at work. I still air-guitar that opening bass riff. It’s a fun song to play on my guitar as well. And the rest of their discography definitely gets its fair share of play here, as A is quite the fan!

Favorite Albums: Pretty Hate Machine

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Kinda like a cloud I was up way up in the sky
And I was feeling some feelings you wouldn’t believe
Sometimes I don’t believe them myself
And I decided I was never coming down
Just then a tiny little dot caught my eye
It was just about too small to see
But I watched it way too long
It was pulling me down

I knew where Trent Reznor was going with these lyrics, but my interpretation in the autumn of 1989 when I first heard it was personal: it was a parallel to the past two years of my life, when I’d finally found my own close circle of friends, only to have them leave upon graduation. See, back then there were two things I had to deal with as a teenager: one, the lack of any kind of social media or easy (and inexpensive) way to remain in contact with them…and two, undiagnosed ADHD that had me hyperfocusing on all the wrong things. “Down In It” encapsulated what I felt at the time: having lost what had been a really great thing followed by the triple-punch of maintaining a long-distance relationship, the inability to find my place at college, and my inability to properly focus on schoolwork. Most of that first year in college was spent in a slow but constant spiral.

I mean, I was also drawn to the band’s unique sound, a mix between the grooving EBM beats of Front 242, the heavy anger of Ministry’s distorted industrial metal, the sterile synthetics of mid-80s Depeche Mode, the clinical experimentation of Severed Heads, the atmospherics of 4AD, and the goth doom of Skinny Puppy. [Reznor admits this song was definitely a riff on their single “Dig It” from 1986.] It was an album that bridged the sounds and lyrics of 80s and 90s electronic music, taking the listener towards a kind of darkness they might not be prepared for. It was the perfect soundtrack to what was going on in my head at the time.

I wasn’t the biggest fan of the second single and album opener “Head Like a Hole” — I felt it didn’t quite capture the tense desperation of “Down In It” — but it certainly worked as a big fuck you to my roommate, who I should not have been roommates with. But the second track, “Terrible Lie”…

…that was an even bigger and more violent fuck you to the world in general. I was not a happy person then, obviously.

Side-closer “Something I Can Never Have” was part of that. I’d been put through so many emotional wringers over the last several months and saddled with so many stressful situations I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for that this song was the closest to how I felt at the time: exhausted, lost, and numb. I knew I had to deal with these spirals, not to mention having to figure out workarounds that would help me academically, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I had the strength to keep it up. I kept feeling like I was heading in a direction I didn’t want to go in.

Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.

I’ve said plenty of times that I used to listen to my copy of this on my Walkman on train rides home for the weekend during those first few college years. Friday nights on the Leominster-Fitchburg line, having escaped the stress of school and looking forward to a few all-too-quick hours with my girlfriend T. A day or so to recharge before I headed back into Boston on Sunday afternoon, ready for another go. Pretty Hate Machine was a reminder of where I was at that point in time, a way of prepping myself for the inevitable facing of another day in a situation I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in.

Which is why I loved that “Kinda I Want To” opened side two. It was a complete change of direction: you know what? Fuck it. Let’s do this. Let’s see where this all goes, good or bad. As much as I thought I needed emotional and mental stability at the time, I also knew I needed to BREAK THE CYCLE.

Nothing quite like the feel of something new…

“The Only Time” was part of that as well. After the chaos of the track (and third single) “Sin” and the pain of “That’s What I Get”, we’re finally at the point where I want to say enough is fucking ENOUGH already. In my head I had to break so many cycles: my Catholic upbringing, my small-town mindset, my pleasing others often to the detriment of my own happiness. I had to cut ties somehow. Or at least ride it all out until I could escape.

Ending the album with “Ringfinger” may not have helped matters, because to me it was a reminder that change could not and would not happen overnight, and not without my needing to take the necessary steps first. Some of those steps would be immediate, others would take a few more years. But I had to make that move. Emotionally exhausted or not, there was no other direction I could move at that point.

*

This album popped into my Threads feed the other day, as it had celebrated its 35th anniversary on Sunday. “Down In It” had also popped up on KEXP the morning I’d had to drive A down to SFO for one of her business trips, and it got me thinking about just how close I’d gotten to this album back in 1989 and into 1990. My cassette copy of the album had been played so often that most of the lettering had worn off it. It got a major amount of play throughout the years (except for a few where The Downward Spiral took its place in the mid-90s) and resurfaced again during the Belfry years. I still equate it to that time in my life where I felt like I was on a precipice. Decades have passed and I’ve figured out mental workarounds and achieved emotional stability. I never thought of that time as “just being a fucked-up kid”, to be honest, because I was trying not to be. I just had a lot of growing up to do and had to do it with little to no guidance, and I had to do it without help or influence, one way or another.

I’ve remained a Nine Inch Nails fan, though I don’t think I’ve ever resonated so deeply with an album as I did with Pretty Hate Machine. It’s an album that came out at a specific point in time, provided a life soundtrack, and kept me balanced in its own unique way.

Flashback: long-form Duran Duran videos

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For completely random reasons, I was thinking the other day about those super extended Duran Duran videos of the day. You know the ones, where Simon would do some completely random quoting of Shakespeare, extras would be acting out some weird interpretive dance, not-quite hints of softcore porn, or something like that. So very 80s. So very Russell Mulcahy.

The seventeen-plus minute version of “New Moon on Monday” is great in that it’s just like French New Wave cinema: full of attitude, and itself. Not entirely sure what it’s about other than some vague Cold War-ish anti-authoritarian protesting? I think? It’s a bit sluggish in places but it’s definitely an experience.

“Night Boat” on the other hand contains Simon’s quoting of Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet…while the band members slowly turn into zombies? Sure, why not?

Then there’s the wonderfully bonkers “Wild Boys” that makes absolutely no sense at all other than its slight nod towards Mad Max and Barbarella.

And oh yes! I’d completely forgotten there was an extended version of “Election Day” (their Arcadia side project, of course). Oh dear lord THE HAIR.

See, this is what happens when you’re a Gen-Xer and a first-gen MTV viewer, you remember all the fever-dream stuff like this.