I just watched a DVD of The Smiths In Review, and got the double CD reissue of The Cure’s Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me in the mail. The album was never a favorite, but listening to it gave me flashbacks to the year it came out, 1987. I also just received a notice in the mail that my 20th high school reunion is this year. It’s an ordeal that I’m actually planning to face. I didn’t even think about going to my 10th, but I figured 20th will be more interesting. There were three movies that came out in 1997 about 10 year reunions – Grosse Point Blank, Michelle & Romy’s High School Reunion, and Since You’ve Been Gone. I doubt if there will be any movies this year, as it’s less about sexy flirtations with old flames than witnessing the ravages of deacades of marriages, child rearing, and divorces. The problem with those movies is that the soundtracks didn’t contain a single song from 1987. It was all early 80s, as if everyone stopped listening to new music after junior high. It’s probably because the producers were of a slightly older generation.
I don’t know how many people I’ll actually remember, but it’s an interesting idea that I’ll be in a roomful of people all sharing the same horrifying realization that we’re becoming middle-aged. When we were teenagers, “old people” were listening to The Big Chill soundtrack of 60’s music and reminiscing at their 20th year reunions. We would never be that lame… So I wonder who’s gonna DJ?
1985-87 were lean years for music. The creative explosion of post-punk and new wave had run its course. Indie rock was only making a small dent into peoples’ consciousness. After the being dominated by blockbusters from Michael Jackson, Prince, Madonna and Bruce Springsteen in 1982-84, mainstream culture seemed to be suffering from a collective hangover, rolling over the next morning and finding itself in bed with hair metal, the best selling album being Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet. In 1986 everyone I know was listening to Peter Gabriel’s So and Paul Simon’s Graceland. I liked them just fine, at least until I grew sick of them. But that sort of polished, adult contemporary music really didn’t really speak to a high school kid like me. My love of metal was revived with Metallica’s Master Of Puppets, and would later get into Slayer. But what about songs that tap into the particular teenage angst of crushes on unattainable girls, yearning for freedom yet being freaked out by what the future holds? Who would address my political awakening, my first drunken buzz, clumsy sex, new love and strange cities (not exactly in that order)? I needed a soundtrack to my pining, anguish, hope and anticipation. I didn’t want last year’s music or my mother’s music. I wanted something new that was my music, because I knew it was documenting a momentous, transitional year in my life. The albums below are what I listened to at the time. Not all of them were to remain favorites. Much of the music probably didn’t measure up to the soundtracks to other generations from 1957, 1967 or 1977. But it was mine. I don’t know that I’m necessarily nostalgic. My quality of life improved immensely in later years, and I’d never do that part over again. But the music serves as a bookmark to remind me who I was and how I became who I am.
Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (Spring/High School)
We were the same age, but Bella looked like a woman who could get into a bar, and I looked like a boy who wasn’t old enough to drive. Such is life. We were friends, and I would make mix tapes with thinly veiled messages, which she pretended not to notice. Hormones make most 17 year-olds crazy to a point, and for me they would cause me to entertain notions such as, what would she do if I through myself under a bus to save her life? Realistically it wasn’t going to inspire her to think, “Damn, and I never should have passed up the chance to make out with him,” but one can dream. Conveniently, three titanic collections of teenage anthems came out that year. There was The Cure’s Staring At TheSea, full of amazing songs that didn’t really get exposure in the U.S. until then, like “Jumping Someone Else’s Train,” “Boys Don’t 
Cry,” “Close To You” and over an hour of depressive dirges. New Order’s Substance also collected singles. The only ones I was familiar with were from their albums, and “Shellshock,” which was featured in John Hughes’ Pretty In Pink soundtrack the previous year. “Procession,” “Temptation,” “Lonesome Tonight” and “Perfect Kiss” were perfect for trying to woo the girl you’re too chicken to make an overt, erm, overture with. Last but not least was The Smiths’ Louder Than Bombs. God knows why it didn’t include “How Soon Is Now?” or “This Charming Man,” but it did have “Ask,” “Girl Afraid,” “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.” We’d drive around while Morrissey would sing, “And if a ten ton truck / crashes into us / to die by your side / would be a heavenly way to die.” Luckily no such thing happened. Who wants to die a virgin?
Hüsker Dü, Warehouse: Songs And Stories (WB)
After being blown away by the epic Zen Arcade (1984), and three other great albums, Hüsker Dü were becoming my favorite band. Candy Apple Grey (1986) was a bit of a disappointment, but I still had high expectations for their new double album. I was expecting something like the White Album or Exile On Main Street or London Calling of my generation. Unfortunately it didn’t quite reach those heights. Nevertheless, it was a great album that had me switching favorite songs for weeks, from “Ice Cold Ice” to “She Floated Away,” “Could You Be The One?, ” “It’s Not Peculiar,” “Turn It Around” and “Up In The Air.”
The Cure, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me (Elektra)
Another double album. I really liked what I heard from The Cure’s first four albums, but wasn’t a fan of their middle eighties stuff. Kiss Me… was an improvement, however, over The Head On The Door (1985). “The Kiss” and “Torture” were satisfyingly aggressive, and, uh, tortured, while “Why Can’t I Be You?” “How Beautiful You Are” and “Just Like Heaven” had the pop hooks. “All I Want” and “A Thousand Hours” had just the right amount of urgent desperation.
The Call, Into The Woods (Elektra)
I got into The Call with their previous album, Reconciled (1986). It had what became known as that 80’s “big music” production and overtly emotive vocals, along the lines of Big Country, The Alarm and U2. They were an L.A. band struggling to make their mark, and even though they had some great near hits like “Everywhere I Go” and “I Still Believe,” they were always missing something. They were was a simple, earnest quality that made them a bit less sexy than other bands, and hence they were forgotten. However, I remember liking it at the time, and so did Bella. It was darker overall, and “I Don’t Wanna” and “It Could Have Been Me” made great mixtape fodder.
The Housemartins, The People Who Grinned Themselves To Death (Go! Discs)
Bella wasn’t my only crush. There was also an aloof thespian, and another neighborhood girl a year younger who inspired me to join Model U.N. just to stalk her. Turned out just as I was about to make a move, I learned she had a boyfriend. She probably would have liked the mix I had planned for her, which included The Housemartins. A couple of my friends were addicted to The Style Council. Every party they’d pop it in. I could sort of see the appeal, since Paul Weller was once in an actually good band once. The lyrics were worldly and political, but the music was limp, loungey bullshit. I preferred to get my sophisticated lefty British tunes with more of a Smiths influence in the form of The Housemartins. I played London 0 Hull 4 to death, with “I’ll Be Your Shelter” immortalized as a Bella favorite. The band ran its course quite quickly, already sounding divided on their second album with Norman Cook (later called Fatboy Slim) pushing towards soul and dance music, and others leaning towards the same old lounge crap.
U2, The Joshua Tree (Island)
War (1983) was one of my all-time favorite albums at the time. The Unforgettable Fire (1984) was a little uneven, but I was still enthralled with U2. Things change a lot in three years for a teenager. Hüsker Dü had become my favorite band, but I remained hopeful that the new U2 album would be killer. I’m one of the few people who think they’ve been going downhill since War. At the time I was impressed by how weighty, dramatic and important The Joshua Tree came across. It was definitely a major soundtrack to that spring for myself and many others. Eventually I simply got sick of it. Its self-importance got tiresome, and the tunes were too much bluster and buildup, not enough rocking.
Can’t Hardly Wait (Summer/Working and Waiting)
She was tall redhead, about 5’10”, nearly as tall as me, since I wouldn’t top 6’1″ for another couple years. She smoked cigarettes, dated older guys who drove muscle cars, and had the hottest body of any girl in my school. I don’t remember her name, but I still have a clear image of her. She wasn’t in any of my classes, but her locker was next to mine for an entire year, and she lived in the same apartment complex as me. She may have been dating 20+ year-olds since she was 12 and destined to be a porn star for all I knew, because I didn’t really know her. She had never once said a word or smiled at me, despite a few feeble attempts to communicate on my part. That summer I was working maintenance; painting apartments, lugging air conditioners, planting bushes. One day I passed by her groundlevel apartment and saw her walking around in just panties and a wifebeater. You can imagine how my hormone-fueled imagination kicked into overdrive. I wasn’t as gawky as I had been, and knew I could get some attention from girls given the opportunity. But not this one. I was doomed to a summer of hard labor, heat, and frequent trips past hottie’s apt at the risk of torturing my already long-suffering libido. I simply had to suck it up and wait for college and my life to start. Music, books and running kept me sane in the meantime.
The Replacements, Pleased To Meet Me (Sire)
It’s funny how one of my favorite bands were made up of notorious drunks, and I had never really even had a real drink yet. The band’s worst drunk but arguably best talent, Bob Stinson, was gone by this album, and it showed. Nevertheless, Paul Westerberg still had some great songs, like “Valentine,” “Alex Chilton” and “Can’t Hardly Wait.” I can’t believe that last one wasn’t included on Tim.
I would soon be going to college in the Twin Cities, home of The Replacements, along with Hüsker Dü and Soul Asylum. I imagined what it would be like to be able to see them play in a bar. Westerberg may have had enough of “Ashtray floors, dirty clothes and filthy jokes,” but I was dying to roll in the dirt and leave with my ears ringing. Counting the days…
XTC, Skylarking (Geffen)
I didn’t know until recently that this album was released in 1986. However, the American release wasn’t until the next spring. It sounded destined to be a classic, a lush, bucolic Beatlesque song suite. “Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass.” Full of clever double entendres and gorgeous production, Skylarking was meant to soundtrack a youthful summer fling. I did have one date with a girl I had previously gone on to a dance with during school. I really liked her, but alas, there was no spark. There’s enough songs about disappointment to fill a truckload of mixtapes, this dreamy song suite was a nice change of pace. It was put to much better use the following summer.
The Cult, Electric (Elektra)
I had a well played copy of their previous album, Love (1985), with some good but spotty psychedelic goth-rock and the killer single, “She Sells Sanctuary.” I was surprised to hear them become an AC/DC inspired cock rock band. But it was great, better than anything AC/DC had done since 1980. At a time when hair metal like Ratt, Def Leppard and Whitesnake was a little too stupid for my mood (Guns ‘n’ Roses weren’t yet on my radar), The Cult was just what I needed.
Big Black , Songs About Fucking (Touch & Go)
Even better was some piledriving Chicago post-punk. I needed something smart but fast to channel my pent up energies to keep me from becoming the crazy firebug in Big Black’s “Kerosene.” A friend’s older brother somehow got an early promo tape, which I eagerly dubbed. There were bits of Killing Joke and Gang of Four, but really it was the most original, daringly unhinged music I’d heard that year. I was a runner in track and cross country, and I would carry my boombox to a nearby steep hill, put on Big Black and crank it up. The closer I got to the top, the louder the music and the faster I’d sprint, abusing my muscles until my whole body felt aflame. Lousy substitute for sex but I took what I could get. Naked Raygun also scratched that itch. Later I got to see them live and it was just how I’d imagine. The lanky singer leaning into the crowd, who were buzzing like agitated atoms, stirred up by the chainsaw guitars.
That Petrol Emotion, Babble (Polydor)
Along with becoming politically active near the end of high school, I had also became increasingly irritated by the growing right-wing power of fundamentalist Christians, and their outrageous moral hypocrisy. The previous year I had written a blazing indictment of the P.M.R.C. (the group lead by Tipper Gore that aimed to censor music). Given their blundering track record of grossly misinterpreting lyrics (like Ozzy Osbourne’s “Suicide Solution,” a heartfelt anti-alcoholism song about a friend of his, hardly pro-suicide), had they heard of these records, they most likely would have banned them. XTC’s single “Dear God” was a complex prayer/protest of the damange caused by religions. That Petrol Emotion were more blunt, singing “I’d rather be the devil than go creeping to the cross.” Lead by Sean O’Neil, formerly of Irish Ramonesque punkers The Undertones,
they had blazing guitar, angry politics and just enough modern sheen to make it one of the most fascinating albums that year.
It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (Fall/College)
After the long, uneventful summer, the transition happened in a blink of an eye. The morning of September 1st I woke up for the last time in my old bedroom (I would never move back home again). My grandparents drove me to St. Paul. We found my dorm, I unloaded my stuff within ten minutes, and then they were gone. By the end of that evening I had met my roommate, people on my floor, more at dinner, and more at a first year mixer party. I had met approximately two dozen more people that I felt I had something in common with in one day than I had my entire life. It wasn’t exactly adulthood yet, but everything was different.
R.E.M., Document (I.R.S.)
The exact same day I started college, Document was released. Thankfully it was a pretty good album, even if I rarely feel like listening to it anymore. “It’s The End of the World” just seemed eopochal. When I heard it, I didn’t feel like anything was over. Rather, it felt like the air, the whole world vibrated with more energy and potential than ever. I had first heard R.E.M. back when I was in 8th grade, listening to KUNI 98.7 FM, a college station out of University of Northern Iowa that was transmitted all around the state. Honey and gravel voiced DJ Bob Dorr introduced the new band from Georgia with the song, “Radio Free Europe.” I was stunned. I was already hearing plenty of post-punk, early hip hop and indie rock, but this sounded like nothing else. R.E.M. drew me further into the world of little bands with big ideas. It’s only fitting that they would again usher me into yet another stage of my life.
The Smiths, Strangeways, Here We Come (Sire)
For the Smiths, it was an ending. When their final album came out September, it had already been announced that they had broken up. It was appropriate that the album had a funereal, dirgey pace to it. It was hard to believe that I was just hearing some of their old singles for the first time earlier that same year. It already felt like a lifetime ago. I played it almost like a ritual, observing the passing of not just a band but an era. Candles were lit of course. My dorm room door was open and a guy from down the hall recognized it and stopped by to commiserate. Yet it also served as a gateway, as he had an astounding record collection, and introduced me to all sorts of new things from Felt to the Go-Betweens.
Sonic Youth, Sister (SST) 
When I first tuned my radio to my college’s radio station, WMCN 91.7, the first song I heard was “Catholic Block” by Sonic Youth. They used odd tunings and keys, like early Velvet Underground. They sounded raw, like The Stooges or punk, but more experimental. They sounded like my new favorite band. Then my synapses truly lit up. There’s a radio station! I gotta find it! I got one of the sophomores on my floor who was a DJ to take me, and I was in nirvana. After substituting for randomly open slots I was able to get my own show by the middle of the semester. At first it was called “Songs To Sing In Your Sleep,” referring to the liner notes of Shriekback’s Big Night Music, and later would evolve to Always Somethin’ Festering and then Uncle Fester’s Bucket O’ Nasties, changing from playing only new music to focusing on pre-punk, punk and “post-industrial waysties.” And with the shows came the awesome resource of thousands of albums to listen to and tape what I liked in the studio.
Dinosaur Jr., You’re Living All Over Me (SST) 
Just after my first week of college, my lung collapsed while cooling down from my first collegiate cross country race. I had a major surgery and was in the hospital for ten days. Through sheer coincidence, three people from my high school came to the same college. They all visited me and brought me supplies, which was extremely nice. What was more amazing was that after only being there a week, another dozen people I had just met also came. One of the DJs brought me some tapes, which included Dinosaur Jr. It seemed apt that my favorite song was “The Lung,” with one verse sounding something like, “nowhere to collapse from…” Dinosaur Jr. were the more traditional side of Sonic Youth’s multitoned distortion, harking back to both 80s hardcore punk and 70s cock rock. Dinosaur inspired me to go back and appreciate some seriously heavy music I had missed.
The Pixies, Come On Pilgrim EP (4AD)
This EP seemed to come out of nowhere. It was ethereal, otherworldly (“Caribou”), yet also explosive and dangerous (“Vamos”). The eerie, rich cover art was as beautifuly enigmatic as the music.
I would later learn that the art was pretty common for the 4AD label, and there were many other interesting, unique bands, from Hugo Largo, Throwing Muses and the Cocteau Twins to Dead Can Dance and This Mortal Coil. But none captivated me so thoroughly as The Pixies. And boy would their debut full-length be a humdinger. They were also the first band I got to see live at Minneapolis’ 7th St. Entry, along with future housemates The Draghounds. Definitely a brilliant way to start college.
Albums that I also liked at the time: There were plenty more albums I listened to in 1987. Some major hip hop albums came out that year from Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions and Eric B and Rakim. While I got into Afrika Bambaataa, Slick Rick and Run DMC early on via KFAI in ’83 to ’84, to be honest it really wasn’t on my mind much again until later in ’88/’89, when the passion and knowledge of some hip hop DJs drew me back in. Of the albums below, some were past favorites who I was slowly losing interest in (Echo & The Bunnymen, The Jesus & Mary Chain, Hoodoo Gurus, Screaming Blue Messiahs). Others were to be future favorites who would grow in stature (The Wedding Present, My Bloody Valentine, Yo La Tengo, Butthole Surfers). And still others were simply and purely of their time, forever to be associated with that era (Firehose, Drivin’ N’ Cryin’, Dead Milkmen, Guadalcanal Diary, Game Theory). Each one conjures up memories of borrowing them from friends, discovering them at the radio station, and digging them up in the used cassette bins at Cheapo’s. Where’s Sting, you ask? No Sting here. God, I hated that twat. I won’t bore you with more reminiscing, but there will be a mix available.
The Wedding Present * George Best (Reception)
My Bloody Valentine * Ecstasy/Strawberry Wine EPs (Lazy)
Echo & The Bunnymen (Sire)
The Jesus & Mary Chain, Darklands (Sire)
Prince * Sign O’ The Times (Paisley Park)
Close Lobsters * Foxheads Stalk This Land (Fire)
Firehose * If’N’ (SST)
Hoodoo Gurus * Blow Your Cool! (Elektra)
Drivin’ N’ Cryin’ * Whisper Tames The Lion (Island)
Yo La Tengo * New Wave Hot Dogs (Coyote)
Hugo Largo * Drum (Opal)
The Dead Milkmen * Bucky Fellini (Enigma)
Mojo Nixon & Skid Roper * Bo-Day-Shus!!! (Enigma)
Tom Waits * Franks Wild Years (Island)
Scratch Acid * Berserker EP (Touch & Go)
The Original Sins * Big Soul (Bar/None)
The Go-Betweens * Tallulah (Beggars Banquet)
Dukes Of Stratosphear * Psionic Sunspot (Virgin)
Squirrel Bait * Skag Heaven (Homestead)
Lime Spiders * The Cave Comes Alive! (Virus)
Butthole Surfers * Locust Abortion Technician (Touch & Go)
Guadalcanal Diary * 2×4 (Elektra)
Spacemen 3 * The Perfect Prescription (Genius)
Swans * Children Of God (Caroline)
Game Theory * Lolita Nation (Enigma)
Screaming Blue Messiahs * Bikini Red (Elektra)
Meat Puppets * Mirage (SST)
Los Lobos * By The Light Of The Moon (Slash)
The author, June, 1987:
:
April 12, 2024
The School of Post-Punk – Class of ’83
March 29, 2024
Fester’s Lucky 13: 1994
February 29, 2024
Best of 1984
