“Don’t Stop”—Sylvester, from All I Need
The choral buildup (sung by the Fabulashes) in the middle of this awe-inspiring elektro-gospel-funk masterpiece clearly inspired Madonna’s “Like a Prayer,” and beats anything off Prince’s same-year elektro-gospel-funk 1999, though the accompanying album’s not as consistent. James Wirrick produced and played the instruments, and I’m guessing he was the best thing ever to happen to Sylvester, besides that falsetto; I’ve heard two earlier Sylvester albums, and they don’t exactly rock the casbah. Too much lite gospel, not enough elektro or funk.
“Yashar”—Cabaret Voltaire, from 2x45 and Machine Soul: An Odyssey Into Electronic Dance Music
SARG: 2x45-9
Cabaret Voltaire started off as experimental electricians, and always stayed that way, though this song’s beat and vocal hook were intended to move the crowd. John Robie, who also worked on Afrika Bambaataa's 1982 “Planet Rock,” remixed it and wanted to release it on the beat-wise Tommy Boy label. When that didn’t work out, the experimentally electronic Factory took it.
“Mary Anne”--Marshall Crenshaw, from Marshall Crenshaw
Christgau: A, #2 album of 1982
RS: #72 album of the ‘80s
SARG: 9
The second author on the list (after Nyman)(maybe those Cabaret Voltaire guys too, who knows?), he wrote Hollywood Rock: a Guide to Rock ‘n’ Roll in the Movies; it probably didn’t include Nyman’s stuff.
“Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”—Michael Jackson, from Thriller
“Walking on a Wire”—Richard and Linda Thompson, from Shoot Out the Lights
Christgau: A, #5 Album of 1982
Guterman: #44 Album ever
RS: #9 Album of the ‘80s
SARG: 10, #45 Alternative Album
Beautiful and perfect, and the lyrics are laid out real cool in the CD booklet. The album’s probably got the greatest consensus of opinion of anything here, except maybe 1999, which was a hit. Not that I care about consensus of opinion.
“Busting Out”—Material feat. Nona Hendryx, from One Down and Deconstruction: The Celluloid Recordings (Bill Laswell)
Christgau: OD-A-, #43 Album of 1982
SARG: OD-9
That’s Ronnie Drayton with the kickass guitar solo and leader Bill Laswell with the bassline of the year. This album also boasts Whitney Houston’s bigshot vocal debut, on “Memories,” which Christgau called “one of the most gorgeous ballads you’ve ever heard,” probably right before he never listened to it again; the thing’s unnecessarily complicated, thinly orchestrated, a chore to sit through, and nowhere near as good as Dolly Parton’s simply beautiful ballad from the same year, “I Will Always Love You.”
“Heavenly Arms”—Lou Reed, from The Blue Mask
“Babe We’re Gonna Love Tonight”—Lime, from Lime Volume 2 and The Greatest Hits
“Gloria”—Laura Branigan, from Branigan and The Best of Branigan
“Dehumanized”—Void, from Flex Your Head
SARG: 9
The D.C. hardcore scene chronicled on Dischord’s Flex Your Head compilation was so close-knit and insular, you can read little soap operas into the liner notes of the individual bands. Best friends Ian (MacKaye) and Henry (Garfield, soon to be Rollins) are the most frequently recurring characters, singing and writing and producing and label-bossing and generally shepherding young straight-edge bands through the valley of debaucherous Georgetown clubs.
Void definitely has the best liner notes saga. Where most of the other bands utilize concert photos or scene marginalia, Void have a drawing of an evil greaser punk setting a bound, gas-soaked Corporate Man on fire. After thanking Ian and Henry, among others, they say “No thanks to: Columbia, Steve Carr, and non-supporters & non-believers.” Hmmm? Well, immediately prior to Void on the comp are Red C, an anomalous mixed-race mixed-gender Hendrix-covering quartet who are way polished (in context) and tend toward arty dirgy solos. Not exactly listenable or what sells, but they do stick out of the pack, and they were the only band engineered by—ta da!—Steve Carr at Hit & Run Studios (everyone else used Don Zientara at the scene studio, Inner Ear). “Sellout pricks!” Void are screaming in their rehearsal space (basement), “They’re tearing the scene apart! And why won’t Columbia pay any attention to us?”
Probably because they sound like an ungodly tarpit mammoth squall of no-wave guitar and free-form racket, excellent stuff. Lyrics are pretentious as anyone’s, but they do have an actual pun (they end a song about urban-corporate dehumanization with “I’m just a product/ Of your ignorance”), and the music’s plenty better than Red C’s "tasty" sub-Sabbath slog. Of course, neither band made it anywhere on Columbia or anywhere else, but posterity smiles warmly upon the Void.
“There She Goes Again”/ “Someday, Someway”—Marshall Crenshaw again
One-two punch of the year, these songs kick off Crenshaw’s debut album. The second was some kind of hit, going to #74 for cover star Robert Gordon, then to #36 for Marshall himself. The Crenshaw/Robert Gottehrer production job is great, transparent but exquisitely detailed.
“The Other Woman”/ “Streetlove”—Ray Parker, Jr., from The Other Woman
Billboard: #37 Song of 1982
Christgau: A-, #21 Album of 1982
Eddy: one of the Top 15 Albums of 1982
Grammy: “TOW” nominated for Best R&B Vocal Performance 1982
Second one-two punch of the year, and “The Other Woman” is (surprisingly) the biggest hit here, though only slightly bigger than “Little Red Corvette”—an apt comparison is “Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)” over “Gin and Juice” in ’94. The album as a whole is a little generic, but solid, and is saved by Parker’s extreme horniness: my two favorite lines are, “Your stuff’s so good I want my name on it,” and “The trouble begins when you tell your friends what we do when we’re alone/ You never would believe the calls I receive soon as you’re not at home.” These two songs, boasting the same key, beat, and guitar sound, come across as a 2-part suite on infidelity.
“Composition #40B”–Anthony Braxton, from Six Compositions: Quartet
See your cassette sleeve for the drawing Braxton based this piece on. I don’t understand either.
“12XU”—Minor Threat, from Flex Your Head
Cover of a Wire song, though Wire didn’t say anything about flexing their heads. The phrase came about (let’s see if I can remember this right) when the arty New York no-wave snobs called D.C. hardcore brats a bunch of “muscleheads,” so the brats figured it must be because they spent so much time flexing their intellectual muscle, or something. This band was tight.
“Stand Up”/ “Judas’ Kiss”—Petra, from More Power To Ya and Petra Means Rock
Someday, when Christian rock gets the opinionated but un-biased book overview it deserves, Bob Hartman, Petra’s songwriter and only consistent member over the years (though he may be on Brian Wilson status these days), will be one of its stars. I remember listening to endless hours of Petra with my Baptist-preacher’s-kid friend James back in jr. high, and wondering how this guy could write song after great song. Of course, if ham-handed proselytizing isn’t your thing, you may be turned off by the lyrics, but then you’d have to give up Public Enemy for consistency’s sake. Strictly musically, though, the guy’s come up with great ‘70s-style classic rock (heard here), ‘80s-style tech-metal, power ballads, unprecedented gospel-rock, and unstoppable hooks (speaking of consistency’s sake). Even his lyrics aren’t always so bad: the two here are a convincing evangelical rah-rah (with a funny line about “our beautiful feet”), and a semi-powerful depiction of betrayal that could be secular, in a John Wesley Harding sort of way.
“Something in the Water (Does Not Compute)”—Prince again
Kind of scares me despite my best efforts, what with the screaming and the cavernous production sound. It helps if you have the liner-note picture of Prince’s creepy neon-lit basement playroom. There’s a straight line between this and the Basement Jaxx and Detroit Grand Pubahs records from 2001.
