Category Archives: 1983

Today’s Top 5: January 7, 1983

The first week of January 2018 has been accented by frigid temperatures across much of the nation. In the Delaware Valley, we’ve “enjoyed” highs in the teens, and windchill temps clocking in the single digits. On this day in 1983, however, it felt positively balmy: We hit a high of 55.

I covered this month before via Trouser Press; and the previous month via Record magazine. The most important thing to know: Unemployment topped 10 percent for the fifth month in a row. The Reagan Recession, in other words, was in full swing.

But, as I mentioned in that Record magazine recap, you wouldn’t have known it by me. I was 17, a high-school senior, and concentrating on my studies. And although far from a math wizard, I could count – which explains why I worked inventory at the Abraham & Straus department store at the Willow Grove Park Mall as a temporary employee this month. (In a few years, I’d sign on at the same store as a sales associate.) I also had plenty of Christmas cash courtesy of my great aunts and uncle, and used much of it to expand my cassette collection – a necessity, as I’d received a Sanyo Mini AM/FM Stereo Radio Cassette Recorder for Christmas.

On January 3rd, a Monday, I picked up Neil Young’s Trans and Lou Reed’s The Blue Mask. I already owned Trans on vinyl; as I’ve said elsewhere on this blog, I assumed store-bought cassettes possessed better sound that recorded copies of LPs. (In retrospect, I wish I’d gone the home-taping route and used the extra cash to buy other albums.) The Blue Mask, however, was new to me, and “Waves of Fear” quickly became a favorite track:

Anyway, as my Garfield desk diary reveals, the month’s other purchases included cassettes by Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin and Todd Rundgren; and a way-cool three-LP Velvet Underground set. I also received, via the RCA Music Club, five of the six tapes I’d ordered the week after Christmas; as with Trans, I already owned Stevie Nicks’ Bella Donna and Pete Townshend’s All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes on vinyl, but Eagles Live, Glenn Frey’s No Fun Aloud and Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk were new to me. 

One album that I inexplicably left off of that end-of-the-month summary – Van Morrison’s Moondance, which came into my life on Friday the 7th. It’s still one of my favorite Van albums.

One other notable event this month: on the 21st, I ventured into Philadelphia to see A Clockwork Orange at the TLA on South Street.

And, with that, here’s today’s Top 5: January 7, 1983 (via Weekly Top 40; for the week ending the 8th):

1) Hall & Oates – “Maneater.” For the fourth week in a row, the No. 1 song in the land was this catchy hit from the Philly pop-soul duo.

2) Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney – “The Girl Is Mine.” The lead single from MJ’s classic Thriller was this syrupy confection, which was the week’s No. 2 single.

3) Don Henley – “Dirty Laundry.” The lead single from Henley’s first solo album, I Can’t Stand Still, is as relevant today as it was when it was first released on October 12, 1982. This week, it rose to No. 3 (from No. 4).

4) Men at Work – “Down Under.” Jumping four spots to No. 4 is this one-time MTV staple.

5) Marvin Gaye – “Sexual Healing.” Entering the top 5 this week is this latter-day classic from Marvin Gaye, who was in the midst of a comeback. (His last hit had come in 1977, when “Got to Give It Up” topped the charts.)

And two bonuses…

6) Golden Earring – “Twilight Zone.” The Dutch group’s “Radar Love” is (rightfully) considered one of the greatest driving songs of all time, but this “powerplay” track – which jumped from No. 52 to 50 this week – is their lone Top 10 U.S. hit. (I’ve featured this song before, of course, in my March 1983 rundown.)

7) Dire Straits – “Industrial Disease.” After the success of 1980’s Making Movies, Mark Knopfler & Co. stretched out on Love Over Gold, a full-length LP with just five songs (including the 14-minute “Telegraph Road”). This satiric tune, which entered the charts at No. 86 this week, was the album’s shortest entry at 5:50.

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Of Concerts Past: Roxy Music at the Tower Theater, 1983

Too often, especially as we age, the waves of time wash over the sturdy landmarks of our youth like the ocean during high tide; and, when the water recedes, what’s left are merely dull fragments of a once-sharp image. Such is the case with this, the second-ever concert I attended. Much of the night remains a vivid, Technicolor wonder; but much more has been carried away by the receding tide of time.

First: As I mentioned in my remembrance of the previous week’s Kinks concert, the show was originally scheduled for the Spectrum in Philadelphia, but was relocated to the Tower Theater in Upper Darby at some point. I don’t know why, but imagine poor ticket sales were to blame. The Spectrum held upwards of 18,000 for concerts; the Tower fit about 3000. An event isn’t downsized that dramatically except to avoid a sea of empty seats.

The change in venue made the trip to the show that much more arduous from my neck of the woods. In today’s world, one could hop on the turnpike, exit at Mid-County and take the Blue Route and West Chester Pike. Maybe a 45-minute (to an hour, depending on traffic) trip. But back then? I didn’t drive much, and wasn’t behind the wheel – a friend with his father’s car was – but imagine we took 202 to West Chester Pike, with the 202 portion of the ride likely taking forever. Another friend was with us.

I say “likely” because I don’t remember it. What I do recall: Walking into the Tower and being amazed by the decked-out guys and girls milling about. Everyone was dressed to the nines in (stereotypical) New Wave fashion except for the three of us, who wore the typical suburban attire of jeans, button-down shirts and, given that it was a chilly night, light jackets. It was as if we’d stepped into a Duran Duran video, in other words. Our seats were on the balcony, a little less than a third of the way back, where the D-Squared vibe continued unabated.

To the show itself: the British band Modern English, who’d caught fire in the U.S. thanks to MTV placing “I Melt With You” into heavy rotation that spring, opened. My only memory of their set is of that song, their last of the night. The moment it began, many on the floor spilled out from their seats and danced in the aisles.

The reason we’d traveled to the Tower, of course, was Roxy Music. Maybe they had to downsize the venue, but whatever disappointments Bryan Ferry & Company had didn’t show in their performance. The band and backup singers came out dressed like many in the audience, like fashion models, and opened with the funky “The Main Thing” from Avalon

One highlight: “Can’t Let Go,” a song from Ferry’s 1978 solo album, The Bride Stripped Bare, which Roxy had just released on the live High Road EP.

Another: “My Only Love,” which – given that I’d been playing the High Road EP for much of the month – I knew like the back of my hand. It’s still a thing of genius.

Another: “Love Is the Drug,” the band’s lone U.S. hit.

Another: their take on Neil Young’s “Like a Hurricane,” which saw a wind machine add to the stormy mood on stage. In its eye: Bryan Ferry, playing it cool; Phil Manzanera, tossing off guitar licks; and Andy MacKay, who wailed away on the sax in lieu of Neil’s swirling guitar solo. The back-up singers provided the proverbial icing on the cake.

“Editions of You” rocked:

The night ended with their cover of John Lennon’s classic “Jealous Guy.” It was the perfect cap to a great concert.

The next morning, in my desk calendar, I noted that “the Musique Roxy were fabulous. It was better than the Kinks!!”

One other memory: After the show, my friend at the wheel inadvertently ran a red light while trying to figure out where he was supposed to turn. Bubble lights from a police car flashed behind us and, within a few minutes, a bulky cop was leaning inside our car with a flashlight, scanning for any signs of intoxication. What he saw instead: three very sober, and very nervous, suburban kids. He let us go with a warning.

The likely set:

  1. The Main Thing
  2. Out of the Blue
  3. Both Ends Burning
  4. A Song for Europe
  5. Take a Chance With Me
  6. Can’t Let Go
  7. While My Heart Is Still Beating
  8. Impossible Guitar
  9. Tara
  10. Avalon
  11. My Only Love
  12. Dance Away
  13. Love Is the Drug
  14. Like a Hurricane
  15. Editions of You
  16. Do the Strand
  17. Jealous Guy

 

Roxy Music: The High Road EP

April 30th, 1983: I was a high-school senior. All in all, life was grand. And, as this was a Saturday, that meant me heading to the Hatboro Record Shop, where I browsed for an hour or so before settling on my day’s purchases: Roxy Music’s High Road EP on vinyl and Avalon on cassette; and Bananarama’s Deep Sea Skiving on cassette.

I won’t go in-depth about the month itself; I’ve tread this period of time too much as is. (See here, here and here.) Instead, the reason for this particular post: Roxy Music’s sleek yet powerful rendition of Neil Young’s “Like a Hurricane” from the High Road EP. By the end of the month, in my second-ever concert, I witnessed them perform it in person. It blew me away.

Unfortunately, the above version comes from the High Road concert film, which was shot at a different stop on the band’s 1982 tour than the EP. A full-length live album from the tour, Heart Is Still Beating, was eventually released on CD in 1990, but it’s basically the soundtrack to the film with the songs in a different order.

Anyway, the 12-inch EP featured just four songs: “Can’t Let Go” and “My Only Love” on Side 1 and “Like a Hurricane” and John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” on Side 2. I thought that it had been lost to time…until I discovered it on YouTube a few weeks ago. Here it is: