FUGAZI “Margin Walker”

12″ EP, Dischord, 1989

A former friend and colleague gave me this piece of vinyl, along with The World Won’t Listen and Veedon Fleece, for no reason other than he didn’t have any use for it any longer and thought I might.

We’re no longer in contact, which kinda sucks, but apparently the method I’ve adopted for dealing with significant portions of my past is to slam the door shut and ignore whatever’s behind it.

“I know I’m wired strange. It’s better for me to be alone as much as possible. It’s the best thing for myself and everyone else.” — H. Rollins

Donald Fagen “The Nightfly”

12″ LP, Warner Bros., 1982

Who stole the mixtapes? Who stole the fame? Was it Donald’s fussy post-boho, proto-yuppie sensibility, the remnants of the Me Decade stilt-walking into the straight life? Or was it simply subtraction by subtraction, shorn of whatever the heroin-addled Becker had still been contributing during the endless nightmare of the Gaucho sessions?

Well, I sure as hell can’t tell yuz. But this is a pretty enjoyable record, which even spawned the minor hit “I.G.Y.,” which people of a certain age would definitely sorta vaguely remember if they heard it. Better than Everything Must Go, certainly. (And Gaucho. too.)

Dead Kennedys “Give Me Convenience Or Give Me Death”

12″ LP, Alternative Tentacles, 1987

I woulda been 11 when I found out about the song “Too Drunk To Fuck” – from Bob Woodward’s 1984 John Belushi screed, Wired.

“He turned it very loud and began dancing and jumping around the bar. … slam dancing—a punk dance in which people violently crash into each other.”

Yes, I learned about punk rock from a book.
And at the time, I did not believe that any such profane song would be allowed to exist.

“[L]isten to this … They can’t play this record on the radio. This is what’s all wrong with America. This song can’t be played.” 

Dead Kennedys “Bedtime For Democracy”

12″ LP, Alternative Tentacles, 1986

The band still existed – barely – when I purchased this, their studio swan song, at a “Record Den” (!) off the food court at a shopping maul located in verdant North Hellhole, Ohiya.

“Boy, Billy, yuh bought a lotta these ‘punk’ records at a mall, huh.”

“It was the fuckin’ EIGHTIES, man!”

Sheesh. Even by AT “standards,” this vinyl pressing sounds weak and tinny, perhaps because they crammed eleventeen (aka “21”) songs onto one shitty piece of plastic. And way too much of it is by-the-book generic “hardcore.”

At one point I owned 5 of the LPs pictured on the insert.

Culture Club “Karma Chameleon” b/w “That’s The Way”

45 rpm 7″, Virgin/Epic, 1983

Their best song? On the host LP (Colour by Numbers), it has challengers including “It’s a Miracle,” “Church of the Poison Mind” and “Miss Me Blind,” but this one’s just so infectious. A blockbuster record, single AND LP, and with good reason. Strangely, I don’t recall liking this song that much way back when … but I had a singles-buying problem.

On the sleeve, it says the flip is “digitally recorded live not mixed”; on the label, it says “That’s The Way (I’m Only Trying to Help You)” is “Taken From The Epic/Virgin Lp.”

Only trying to help? Here.

Culture Club “kissing to be clever”

12″ LP, Epic/Virgin, 1982

I wonder what it would be like if this band hit American shores in these times, instead of the early ’80s (which were hardly the most enlightened era). On one hand, I don’t remember anybody back then trying to ban Boy George or charging him with preying on children, possibly at the deep-state behest of a liberal cabal; the worst I remember was people thinking he was a freak, or making snide comments about his presumed gender. On the other, with such a fractured, compartmentalized culture nowadays, what impact can a pop band have? A “special” McDonald’s “meal”?

John Cougar Mellencamp “Rain On The Scarecrow” b/w “Pretty Ballerina”

45 rpm 7″, Riva, 1985

Somehow, this was the single from Scarecrow that didn’t go top 10. Yeah, it’s not exactly a feel-good-hit-of-the-summer candidate, but damn. It’s such a devastating, personal plaint about the grapes of wrath. And of course, Mellencamp was serious about the theme: 1985 was the year he and Willie Nelson and Neil Young started Farm Aid.

I remember discussing this song with members of the Dischord band Holy Rollers in a basement when they played at my college alma mater almost 30 years ago. They liked it also.

Side Two is originally by “baroque pop” act The Left Banke. What a juxtaposition.

John Cougar Mellencamp “R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A. (A Salute to 60’s Rock)” b/w “Under the Boardwalk”

45 rpm 7″, Riva, 1985

WHAT ever became of the picture sleeve that once housed this piece of plastic?
WHY did I buy it in the first place?

I can sorta answer that second question: I liked the way the music dropped out under Mr. Mellencamp’s phrasing of “rockin’ in the U.S.A.,” and I liked his roll call of the acts he spotlighted. To be honest, it was a guilty pleasure even then, and I was 12. But I played the B-side more than once, too.

The Fleshtones do this concept better with their “American Beat ’84.” It’s on the Bachelor Party soundtrack, of course.

John Cougar Mellencamp “Crumblin’ Down” b/w “Golden Gates”

45 rpm 7″, Riva, 1983

From Chapter 2 of IT by Stephen King, published by Viking in 1986:

“Like his two friends, he was dressed in unconscious imitation of Bruce Springsteen, although if asked he would probably call Springsteen a wimp or a fagola and would instead profess admiration for such ‘bitchin’ heavy-metal groups as Def Leppard, Twisted Sister, or Judas Priest. The sleeves of his plain blue tee-shirt were torn off, showing his heavily muscled arms. His thick brown hair fell over one eye – this touch was more John Cougar Mellencamp than Springsteen.”

Uh-huh is among the best basic rock records of the ’80s.

Crowded House “Don’t Dream It’s Over” b/w “That’s What I Call Love”

45 rpm 7″, Capitol, 1986

One of my go-to selections whenever someone asks for my opinion as to the “best song of the ’80s,” along with “Whisper to a Scream (Birds Fly)” by Icicle Works. I mean, if you’re constraining the answer to, you know, shit I mighta heard from Casey Kasem on the American Top 40 Countdown, which I used to listen to in its entirety. (I probably wasn’t still actually listening to the AT40 in 1986, however.) I’d wager it’s difficult to name a more melancholy number constructed of purportedly inspiring sentiments than this one. Ain’t never bothered to listen to the B-side.