Getting a stereo of my own at Christmas, 1983 was the point after which all was lost: any chance of ever getting away from music and into some other field of interest was pretty much gone for me from that point forward. By February of 1984, I was finally starting to emerge from the worst of my homesickness and had started to elevate my GPA towards an at-least-passable level, but I was also falling headlong into my musical obsession all over again as I became familiarized with the Cleveland FM spectrum at last. There were also some musical changes afoot that started to become apparent only towards the end of that year as the "Now Sound" started to shift, particularly at MTV, who were starting to alter their approach and presentation for the first time in the wake of their runaway success over the previous two years.
Following the green Christmas of 1983, the winter of 1984 was a bear: repeated blasts of arctic air and snow squalls coming in waves off of unfrozen Lake Erie. In this wintry hell, my explorations of the local FM dial began in earnest (during times I wasn't parked in front of MTV downstairs), centering eventually on the twin Top 40 bastions of 92.3 and WGCL. The latter station carried American Top 40, which made them an easy early favorite of mine, but the not-so-gentle urgings of the more rock-leaning friends I'd played D&D with that frigid winter ultimately pushed me towards WMMS, which I already had figured out was the pre-eminent rock outlet in the area (simply judging by the number of t-shirts, banners, and bumper stickers I'd seen around by then).
I was right, but it was a while before I figured how just how big WMMS really was. As a longtime Cleveland institution by 1984, WMMS had been a kind of musical rite of passage for rebellious teenagers since at least the early 1970s. As it happens, by the time I started listening, WMMS was actually only two years away from beginning a rapid decline to Hell in a handbasket (and quite frankly, there were many who felt the station really started its downward slide back around 1981 when John Gorman, Kid Leo, Denny Sanders and the gang opted to stop airing only what is now called "classic rock" and started stirring the pot a bit to see what else would work). In the summer of '84, the station, while not exactly true-blue AOR, was a heady mix of old, new, obscure and familiar that had me addicted in no time. There was an edge there that couldn't be denied: an attitude that didn't exist at all at Top 40, and there was a very pleasing, relaxed, friendly feel to the DJs (I was a quick fan of Sanders, T.R., and Dia Stein) that I'd never heard before and liked almost immediately. From waking up to Jeff & Flash's "Morning Zoo" (and often listening to them while walking or taking the bus to school) and drifting off to T.R. later that night, WMMS became a constant (and now dearly missed) companion and for a while my most trusted source for new and cool music, largely thanks to Gorman and Kid Leo's wide-open, nearly Top 40 policy of adding whatever worked to the mix, whether it was Deep Purple, New Order, Motley Crue, or A-Ha.
While friends had been steering me towards rock music, Top 40 was already starting to drift back towards a more adult-friendly sound than it had been after the previous summer, and I was starting to get tired of hearing far more Lionel Richie ("Hello") and Phil Collins ("Against All Odds") on the radio than Berlin ("No More Words") or Missing Persons ("Give"). The problem basically was this: while synthpop was still the driving force behind my obsession, new realities were starting to set in as far as The Mainstream was concerned.
It wasn't so much that what had sounded so futuristic and cutting edge on the radio in the middle of 1983 was fast becoming yesterday's news (though in some cases, it was), but that MTV was starting to move away from breaking new foreign synthpop acts and breaking more American pop/rock acts as the music industry realized that a five-or-six-figure investment in a five-minute video clip could likely create a couple of million album sales. MTV had once been scrambling for any music to keep its programming moving, and was now starting to get in more than it could show, and some larger companies spent a lot more time and money on their videos than other, shall we say, independent companies, and those more expensive videos (generally by better-known acts) began to signficantly alter the look of the channel by the onset of summer. Eventually, that shift began to reach Top 40 radio, and suddenly it seemed like the Men Without Hats' ("Where Do The Boys Go") of the world were being thrown under the bus to make room for older, established acts like Rod Stewart ("Infatuation") who were now playing the MTV game with a far bigger production budget.
This isn't to say that synthpop simply vanished overnight -- just ask Howard Jones ("What Is Love?") or Talk Talk ("It's My Life"), who made their respective breakthroughs that spring -- but it seemed like the entire role of the modern synthesizer in contemporary music began to change right around the middle of 1984. Basically, the music world absorbed the look and sound of New Wave and re-fabricated it as straight-up pop music. In 1983, bands had put their exotic synth racks front and center in their videos (or at least clearly visible along with their hair and clothes), but by 1984 the synths were still there, but were no longer being used as fashion statements so much as a means to an end. Yes, the wild and wacky fashion sense that New Wave had kick-started would remain in the 80s pop scene throughout the rest of the decade, but the quirky use of whizzy, bleepy, alien-sounding synths would be replaced by new digital upgrades which allowed a "buffed-up" sound that was clean, glistening, and, ultimately, ubiquitous in 80s pop music.
There was also a weird give-and-take going on in the world of "rock" radio: while the synthpoppers were now being forced in effect to pick up guitars and join the mainstream (or sink back into college radio obscurity from whence they came), some of the bigger AOR (album-oriented rock) bands of the time like Van Halen ("Jump") and Queen ("Radio Gaga") were fully embracing synths and making them a prominent component of their sound. Meanwhile, it seemed like R&B as a genre was absolutely neck-deep in analog electronics, with nearly every major act of the time swathed in squiggly bass notes, stacks of Rolands and processed Simmons drums.
1984 was also the year I started to acquire records on my own for the first time (rather than waiting for Christmas to come around so I could make out a freaking huge list of albums again). What actually started this happening was a freak accident at school towards the end of ninth grade, where I wound up breaking my pinky by not watching what I was doing and letting it collide with the end of a staircase railing. The pain was excruciating, but I had been on my way to science class to take an important test, and I made myself go through that before I went to the school nurse to have her take a look at my hand. Of course, the broken digit was on my writing hand, and the test I'd taken looked like it had been filled out by a kindergartner, so bad was the writing on it (my friend Rob ended up correcting the test a few periods later and gave me some rather lacerating commentary on my script in the margins).
After I'd reached home and then been taken to the hospital to get my arm and wrist immobilized in a split and wrapped in Ace bandages, my mother decided to take me to Great Lakes Mall and buy me a record as a kind of "hang in there, kid" consolation prize (had I been eight or nine, I might have been taken out for ice cream). I had never been in a record store since I'd started becoming seriously interested in music, and walking into Record Carnival that afternoon was a pretty awesome experience: gazing upon rows of vinyl albums and tape cassettes in display bins running the length of the store and then spying the current Top 100 singles arranged in a specialized wooden display rack that offered a little labeled cubbyhole for each title made my decision difficult. In the end, I opted to go for a full-length album (and one that I knew at least three songs on): the previous year's self titled debut by Naked Eyes. A month or so later, I returned to this same store again and picked up a few 45s (like the absolutely dreadful Jacksons single "State Of Shock") with some allowance money, and my tiny little record collection started to grow.
While I would ultimately amass a pretty fair amount of 45s by the end of high school (albums were largely set aside for Christmas lists), most of my music acquisition was done the old fashioned way: spending long afternoons and evenings taping songs I wanted off the radio or borrowing albums from whoever would lend them to me. This was how "downloading" worked back in the early 1980s, kids, and while compressed music files may not degrade after a few dozen plays like a cassette tape could, I'll still take a TDK SA-90 over a 160 kbps mp3 file any day of the week, quality-wise. :)
As luck would also have it, I had met a couple of people who lived up the street who occasionally hooked me up with music that I could copy and listen to at my own leisure (often at high volume on a set of spidery-looking Koss headphones that I'd been given around the same time I got my stereo). Paul and Dennis weren't exactly close friends of mine at any time in my life, but they did have some taste, not to mention access to a lot of records that I wanted to hear. Paul was far more into New Wave of the two, and his tastes ran pretty similar to mine overall. Over time, he leant me a bunch of 45s, primarily, allowing me to add songs by Romeo Void ("A Girl In Trouble"), Industry ("State Of The Nation") and Real Life ("Send Me An Angel") to my first homemade compilation tapes.
My other connection, Dennis, was far more bent towards straight up rock music, and while we didn't always see eye-to-eye on this subject, he would ultimately introduce me to the Greatest Album Ever a few years down the road. Complementing his more rock-based tastes, Dennis always specialized in full albums, letting me dub copies of Fastway's All Fired Up ("All Fired Up"), Twisted Sister's Stay Hungry ("We're Not Gonna Take It"), the soundtrack to Footloose ("I'm Free"), while also loaning me a few 45s by John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band ("On The Dark Side") and Alan Parsons Project ("Don't Answer Me").
It was also right around this time that my brother and I got the brilliant idea to rapidly increase the size of my music collection by signing up for a record club membership on our own and thus getting a dozen albums (among them .38 Special's Tour De Force, Men At Work's Cargo, and Eddie Murphy's Comedian) for a penny, which looked like the most incredible deal in the history of business (I wonder now how many kids out there jumped to this exact same conclusion and failed to read the fine print on these agreements). A month or so later, of course, we learned of our mistake as my mother screamed bloody murder at my brother and I for having to pay upwards of seventy to eighty bucks for a dozen of rock and comedy records (plus added shipping charges). Oops.
While I was still no one's idea of a social butterfly at school, I at least had a couple of friends to talk to, and was no longer staggering around under a ton of bleak depression: the sun was coming out at last. I even realized at the time that my transition from Shore Junior High School to Mentor High School at the end of that summer wasn't anywhere near as traumatic as it could have been had I had moved down here and walked into that place not knowing a single soul the same way I had into Shore. *shudder* Good lord, I could have wound up in an early version of the Trenchcoat Mafia or something ...
The summer of 1984, however, was a splendid time to be listening to the radio and soaking up the warmth by the Civic Center swimming pool. I can clearly remember late nights lying awake in my room with the lights off, the windows open to let in a night time breeze, and WMMS filling the space with the music of the era, the airtime dominated by the likes of Prince & The Revolution ("When Doves Cry"), Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band ("Dancing In The Dark"), The Cars ("Magic"), Billy Idol ("Eyes Without A Face"), ZZ Top ("Legs"), Huey Lewis & The News ("If This Is It"), and, er, Ray Parker, Jr. ("Ghostbusters").
Long-term change was also afoot at MTV, though the effects would take a while to sink in. For the first time, the network was starting to flex its new muscle and began to make demands of its own, the most notable of which was exclusivity on new clips by flagship artists. By now, the big guys had moved into the music video world, and the network that started it all was already starting to pat itself on the back, as the first of the almost forever-more unwatchable Video Music Awards aired that fall, and a Top 20 "Video Countdown" had been showing since the late winter.
On the business front, MTV also began ponying up for exclusivity rights for new product from the major labels who were now jumping into music video with both feet. Billboard magazine had started indicating which songs on the redesigned Hot 100 chart had videos available and which ones didn't. Videos themselves were now being reviewed in the same fashion as singles and albums, with the reviews running on wire services and printed by newspapers nationwide.
After witnessing firsthand how much cultural and commercial impact MTV had created over the previous two years, the labels were then asked by the network if it might be possible that new videos by major artists such as, say, Duran Duran ("The Wild Boys"), Daryl Hall & John Oates ("Out Of Touch"), The Fixx ("Are We Ourselves?") and Bryan Adams ("Run To You") could be shown only by MTV and no one else as "Sneak Preview Videos" for a period of 4 weeks (not that there was any competition for the channel whatsoever outside of NBC's Friday Night Videos or USA Network's Night Flight). Labels, once utterly dismissive of the channel (if not the entire concept). The labels were too gobsmacked by their resurgent fortunes (watching monster albums like Purple Rain and Born In The U.S.A. selling like there was no tomorrow) to disagree, and for the first time, MTV began to act less like an upstart network and more like the giant corporations it was now dealing with on a daily basis.
The second half of 1984 also saw me walking down the hallowed halls of massive Mentor High School for the first time, and going through that "who the hell are all of THESE people" adjustment for the second time in two years, only this time I at least had some semblance of a circle of friends to keep me sane unlike the previous year's disaster. My academic performance had improved enough to get me into 10th grade, but never progressed much beyond that point again (save for the odd one or two classes or teachers a year that actively engaged my interest). For the next three years, I would basically be shooting for the 2.0 and generally not missing by much.
which at this time was actually getting ready to enter its death throes (though this would not become apparent until a couple of years later), but suddenly seemed like striking a gold mine when I was 14 coming up on 15.
Following the green Christmas of 1983, the winter of 1984 was a bear: repeated blasts of arctic air and snow squalls coming in waves off of unfrozen Lake Erie. In this wintry hell, my explorations of the local FM dial began in earnest (during times I wasn't parked in front of MTV downstairs), centering eventually on the twin Top 40 bastions of 92.3 and WGCL. The latter station carried American Top 40, which made them an easy early favorite of mine, but the not-so-gentle urgings of the more rock-leaning friends I'd played D&D with that frigid winter ultimately pushed me towards WMMS, which I already had figured out was the pre-eminent rock outlet in the area (simply judging by the number of t-shirts, banners, and bumper stickers I'd seen around by then).
I was right, but it was a while before I figured how just how big WMMS really was. As a longtime Cleveland institution by 1984, WMMS had been a kind of musical rite of passage for rebellious teenagers since at least the early 1970s. As it happens, by the time I started listening, WMMS was actually only two years away from beginning a rapid decline to Hell in a handbasket (and quite frankly, there were many who felt the station really started its downward slide back around 1981 when John Gorman, Kid Leo, Denny Sanders and the gang opted to stop airing only what is now called "classic rock" and started stirring the pot a bit to see what else would work). In the summer of '84, the station, while not exactly true-blue AOR, was a heady mix of old, new, obscure and familiar that had me addicted in no time. There was an edge there that couldn't be denied: an attitude that didn't exist at all at Top 40, and there was a very pleasing, relaxed, friendly feel to the DJs (I was a quick fan of Sanders, T.R., and Dia Stein) that I'd never heard before and liked almost immediately. From waking up to Jeff & Flash's "Morning Zoo" (and often listening to them while walking or taking the bus to school) and drifting off to T.R. later that night, WMMS became a constant (and now dearly missed) companion and for a while my most trusted source for new and cool music, largely thanks to Gorman and Kid Leo's wide-open, nearly Top 40 policy of adding whatever worked to the mix, whether it was Deep Purple, New Order, Motley Crue, or A-Ha.
While friends had been steering me towards rock music, Top 40 was already starting to drift back towards a more adult-friendly sound than it had been after the previous summer, and I was starting to get tired of hearing far more Lionel Richie ("Hello") and Phil Collins ("Against All Odds") on the radio than Berlin ("No More Words") or Missing Persons ("Give"). The problem basically was this: while synthpop was still the driving force behind my obsession, new realities were starting to set in as far as The Mainstream was concerned.
It wasn't so much that what had sounded so futuristic and cutting edge on the radio in the middle of 1983 was fast becoming yesterday's news (though in some cases, it was), but that MTV was starting to move away from breaking new foreign synthpop acts and breaking more American pop/rock acts as the music industry realized that a five-or-six-figure investment in a five-minute video clip could likely create a couple of million album sales. MTV had once been scrambling for any music to keep its programming moving, and was now starting to get in more than it could show, and some larger companies spent a lot more time and money on their videos than other, shall we say, independent companies, and those more expensive videos (generally by better-known acts) began to signficantly alter the look of the channel by the onset of summer. Eventually, that shift began to reach Top 40 radio, and suddenly it seemed like the Men Without Hats' ("Where Do The Boys Go") of the world were being thrown under the bus to make room for older, established acts like Rod Stewart ("Infatuation") who were now playing the MTV game with a far bigger production budget.
This isn't to say that synthpop simply vanished overnight -- just ask Howard Jones ("What Is Love?") or Talk Talk ("It's My Life"), who made their respective breakthroughs that spring -- but it seemed like the entire role of the modern synthesizer in contemporary music began to change right around the middle of 1984. Basically, the music world absorbed the look and sound of New Wave and re-fabricated it as straight-up pop music. In 1983, bands had put their exotic synth racks front and center in their videos (or at least clearly visible along with their hair and clothes), but by 1984 the synths were still there, but were no longer being used as fashion statements so much as a means to an end. Yes, the wild and wacky fashion sense that New Wave had kick-started would remain in the 80s pop scene throughout the rest of the decade, but the quirky use of whizzy, bleepy, alien-sounding synths would be replaced by new digital upgrades which allowed a "buffed-up" sound that was clean, glistening, and, ultimately, ubiquitous in 80s pop music.
There was also a weird give-and-take going on in the world of "rock" radio: while the synthpoppers were now being forced in effect to pick up guitars and join the mainstream (or sink back into college radio obscurity from whence they came), some of the bigger AOR (album-oriented rock) bands of the time like Van Halen ("Jump") and Queen ("Radio Gaga") were fully embracing synths and making them a prominent component of their sound. Meanwhile, it seemed like R&B as a genre was absolutely neck-deep in analog electronics, with nearly every major act of the time swathed in squiggly bass notes, stacks of Rolands and processed Simmons drums.
1984 was also the year I started to acquire records on my own for the first time (rather than waiting for Christmas to come around so I could make out a freaking huge list of albums again). What actually started this happening was a freak accident at school towards the end of ninth grade, where I wound up breaking my pinky by not watching what I was doing and letting it collide with the end of a staircase railing. The pain was excruciating, but I had been on my way to science class to take an important test, and I made myself go through that before I went to the school nurse to have her take a look at my hand. Of course, the broken digit was on my writing hand, and the test I'd taken looked like it had been filled out by a kindergartner, so bad was the writing on it (my friend Rob ended up correcting the test a few periods later and gave me some rather lacerating commentary on my script in the margins).
After I'd reached home and then been taken to the hospital to get my arm and wrist immobilized in a split and wrapped in Ace bandages, my mother decided to take me to Great Lakes Mall and buy me a record as a kind of "hang in there, kid" consolation prize (had I been eight or nine, I might have been taken out for ice cream). I had never been in a record store since I'd started becoming seriously interested in music, and walking into Record Carnival that afternoon was a pretty awesome experience: gazing upon rows of vinyl albums and tape cassettes in display bins running the length of the store and then spying the current Top 100 singles arranged in a specialized wooden display rack that offered a little labeled cubbyhole for each title made my decision difficult. In the end, I opted to go for a full-length album (and one that I knew at least three songs on): the previous year's self titled debut by Naked Eyes. A month or so later, I returned to this same store again and picked up a few 45s (like the absolutely dreadful Jacksons single "State Of Shock") with some allowance money, and my tiny little record collection started to grow.
While I would ultimately amass a pretty fair amount of 45s by the end of high school (albums were largely set aside for Christmas lists), most of my music acquisition was done the old fashioned way: spending long afternoons and evenings taping songs I wanted off the radio or borrowing albums from whoever would lend them to me. This was how "downloading" worked back in the early 1980s, kids, and while compressed music files may not degrade after a few dozen plays like a cassette tape could, I'll still take a TDK SA-90 over a 160 kbps mp3 file any day of the week, quality-wise. :)
As luck would also have it, I had met a couple of people who lived up the street who occasionally hooked me up with music that I could copy and listen to at my own leisure (often at high volume on a set of spidery-looking Koss headphones that I'd been given around the same time I got my stereo). Paul and Dennis weren't exactly close friends of mine at any time in my life, but they did have some taste, not to mention access to a lot of records that I wanted to hear. Paul was far more into New Wave of the two, and his tastes ran pretty similar to mine overall. Over time, he leant me a bunch of 45s, primarily, allowing me to add songs by Romeo Void ("A Girl In Trouble"), Industry ("State Of The Nation") and Real Life ("Send Me An Angel") to my first homemade compilation tapes.
My other connection, Dennis, was far more bent towards straight up rock music, and while we didn't always see eye-to-eye on this subject, he would ultimately introduce me to the Greatest Album Ever a few years down the road. Complementing his more rock-based tastes, Dennis always specialized in full albums, letting me dub copies of Fastway's All Fired Up ("All Fired Up"), Twisted Sister's Stay Hungry ("We're Not Gonna Take It"), the soundtrack to Footloose ("I'm Free"), while also loaning me a few 45s by John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band ("On The Dark Side") and Alan Parsons Project ("Don't Answer Me").
It was also right around this time that my brother and I got the brilliant idea to rapidly increase the size of my music collection by signing up for a record club membership on our own and thus getting a dozen albums (among them .38 Special's Tour De Force, Men At Work's Cargo, and Eddie Murphy's Comedian) for a penny, which looked like the most incredible deal in the history of business (I wonder now how many kids out there jumped to this exact same conclusion and failed to read the fine print on these agreements). A month or so later, of course, we learned of our mistake as my mother screamed bloody murder at my brother and I for having to pay upwards of seventy to eighty bucks for a dozen of rock and comedy records (plus added shipping charges). Oops.
While I was still no one's idea of a social butterfly at school, I at least had a couple of friends to talk to, and was no longer staggering around under a ton of bleak depression: the sun was coming out at last. I even realized at the time that my transition from Shore Junior High School to Mentor High School at the end of that summer wasn't anywhere near as traumatic as it could have been had I had moved down here and walked into that place not knowing a single soul the same way I had into Shore. *shudder* Good lord, I could have wound up in an early version of the Trenchcoat Mafia or something ...
The summer of 1984, however, was a splendid time to be listening to the radio and soaking up the warmth by the Civic Center swimming pool. I can clearly remember late nights lying awake in my room with the lights off, the windows open to let in a night time breeze, and WMMS filling the space with the music of the era, the airtime dominated by the likes of Prince & The Revolution ("When Doves Cry"), Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band ("Dancing In The Dark"), The Cars ("Magic"), Billy Idol ("Eyes Without A Face"), ZZ Top ("Legs"), Huey Lewis & The News ("If This Is It"), and, er, Ray Parker, Jr. ("Ghostbusters").
Long-term change was also afoot at MTV, though the effects would take a while to sink in. For the first time, the network was starting to flex its new muscle and began to make demands of its own, the most notable of which was exclusivity on new clips by flagship artists. By now, the big guys had moved into the music video world, and the network that started it all was already starting to pat itself on the back, as the first of the almost forever-more unwatchable Video Music Awards aired that fall, and a Top 20 "Video Countdown" had been showing since the late winter.
On the business front, MTV also began ponying up for exclusivity rights for new product from the major labels who were now jumping into music video with both feet. Billboard magazine had started indicating which songs on the redesigned Hot 100 chart had videos available and which ones didn't. Videos themselves were now being reviewed in the same fashion as singles and albums, with the reviews running on wire services and printed by newspapers nationwide.
After witnessing firsthand how much cultural and commercial impact MTV had created over the previous two years, the labels were then asked by the network if it might be possible that new videos by major artists such as, say, Duran Duran ("The Wild Boys"), Daryl Hall & John Oates ("Out Of Touch"), The Fixx ("Are We Ourselves?") and Bryan Adams ("Run To You") could be shown only by MTV and no one else as "Sneak Preview Videos" for a period of 4 weeks (not that there was any competition for the channel whatsoever outside of NBC's Friday Night Videos or USA Network's Night Flight). Labels, once utterly dismissive of the channel (if not the entire concept). The labels were too gobsmacked by their resurgent fortunes (watching monster albums like Purple Rain and Born In The U.S.A. selling like there was no tomorrow) to disagree, and for the first time, MTV began to act less like an upstart network and more like the giant corporations it was now dealing with on a daily basis.
The second half of 1984 also saw me walking down the hallowed halls of massive Mentor High School for the first time, and going through that "who the hell are all of THESE people" adjustment for the second time in two years, only this time I at least had some semblance of a circle of friends to keep me sane unlike the previous year's disaster. My academic performance had improved enough to get me into 10th grade, but never progressed much beyond that point again (save for the odd one or two classes or teachers a year that actively engaged my interest). For the next three years, I would basically be shooting for the 2.0 and generally not missing by much.
which at this time was actually getting ready to enter its death throes (though this would not become apparent until a couple of years later), but suddenly seemed like striking a gold mine when I was 14 coming up on 15.
Fave Raves Of 1984 (by artist):
Art Of Noise Daft
Art Of Noise Daft
Berlin Love Life
The Blue Nile A Walk Across The Rooftops
Lindsey Buckingham Go Insane
The Cars Heartbeat City
Cocteau Twins Treasure
Thomas Dolby The Flat Earth
Eurythmics 1984: For The Love Of Big Brother
Eurythmics Touch
David Gilmour About Face
The Honeydrippers Volume One
Howard Jones Human's Lib
Judas Priest Defenders Of The Faith
Kool & The Gang Emergency
Madonna Like A Virgin
The Pretenders Learning To Crawl
Prince & The Revolution Music From Purple Rain
The Smiths The Smiths
Soundtrack Footloose
Soundtrack Repo Man
Soundtrack The Terminator
Soundtrack Witness
Bruce Springsteen Born In The U.S.A.
Talk Talk It's My Life
Talking Heads Stop Making Sense
This Mortal Coil It'll End In Tears
Thompson Twins Into The Gap
U2 The Unforgettable Fire
Van Halen 1984
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