The late 1970s saw the advent of cable television and dance clubs, introducing outlets for an emerging hybrid of music and film at a time when the DIY culture that enveloped punk and New Wave encouraged experimentation. Visually inventive artists such as Devo, Laurie Anderson, and Talking Heads were among the first to recognize video as a medium to make a statement, creating pieces that could stand on their own as serious performance artworks. Visually inventive and photogenic artists such as Duran Duran, the Human League, ABC, and Adam Ant would also create arresting pieces that have stood the test of time.
With innovation and experimentation comes the risk of rapid obsolescence. This list looks at a collection of video clips from the decade that have not aged well, bearing a distinctive look that instantly tags the work as a product of their time. So here’s a look at 20 music videos which, with the benefit of hindsight, remain deeply rooted in the 1980s…
Europe – “The Final Countdown” (Sony, 1986)
What better way to start the countdown than with “The Final Countdown”? Originally envisioned as the opening music for Europe’s concerts, it opens our very own list rundown. A song, a career, and a music era are built around an opening synth riff, which keyboardist and lead vocalist Joey Tempest had tucked away since his days in school and had to fight for to get used. The fighting spirit that went into getting the song made serves as the foundation for martial music, perhaps presaging the penultimate scene in any tale that might have to deal with coming of age, war, or sports battles — or, say, in the case of Top Gun, all three (the song has indeed been a fixture in hockey video games and sports arenas).
The video starts by following the path of a speeding rocket or missile honing in on its target, a nod to the Cold War or space race. Within the first minute, lighters spring up. Then comes a shock of head-banger hair, a glorious guitar solo, and headbanging fans shot before an appreciative hometown audience for the Swedish lads.
Toto Coelo – “I Eat Cannibals” (Razor and Tie, 1982)
Swinging from one extreme to the other, we take you from light camp to high camp. “Milk from the Coconut” is one of the original oddities, replete with overexposed lighting and bizarre what-were-they-thinking goodness, built on a primitive, carnal tribal drum beat that screams one-hit-wonder. Or at least stature as a top 10 hit in the UK and recurring appearances on video dance shows such as the syndicated MV3, the irreverent homegrown hipster answer to American Bandstand. What’s painful about one-hit ’80s stars is the inevitability of doomed attempts to replicate the success of their signature hit.
In this case, Toto Coelo (known in the US as Total to avoid confusion with the band Toto), came up short with “Milk from the Coconut”. Actually, seeing the video for “Coconut” is grounds for positive outrage. While fusing many of the 1980s iconic elements, “Coconut” has a certain pass-the-dutchie rap from one female member to another, which anticipates a certain Girl Power anthem. (Doesn’t that girl look scary? The one with the headband looks athletic, the other one is baby-faced, while the stylish one looks…) Enjoy “I Eat Cannibals”, and savor its “Toto” package for what it is: primitive choreography, bright Day-Glo New Wave outfits seemingly stitched from bits of colored plastic wrap, bright washed-out lighting, and plenty of neon.
U2 – “I Will Follow” (Island, 1980)
Think “Thing of Beauty” and repeat it to yourself in an Irish brogue. Alas, you have this magically delicious bit of goodness that is these lads back when, before they realized they would go on to their storied globe-trotting ways. Imagine an alternate timeline where the biggest name in show business had gone the way of the Alarm, where this was simply it for U2, the only way to measure a one-and-done band. Here, we have the band’s lead singer in leather pants, doing the mashed potato and performing the running man. And look at how that mullet is coiffed just so. The high school-age drummer seems to be channeling Ethan Hawke, and why is Martin Gore from Depeche Mode playing bass?
John Parr – “St Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” (Columbia, 1985)
This listing of dated 1980s videos couldn’t really proceed without a Brat Pack reference. Of all the flicks to select from, we chose the film that perhaps may have been the jump-the-shark moment for the entire franchise, featuring the assembled actors revealing a bit too much in their glory. St. Elmo’s Fire (receiving a 45% Rotten Tomatoes rating) seems to be caught in a self-referential loop, referring to the bar as the touchstone for the character’s relationships and then going to said bar, where the characters could hear the theme song resonating within. Imagine if the cast of Cheers began singing the theme from Cheers while sitting in Cheers.
Like all good movie trailers, the music video is a montage of scenes that neatly sums up the film — and inserts the singer into the movie, and the movie stars into the video. In contrast, the video for Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me” deftly contains scenes of The Breakfast Club playing in the background on the bank of monitors, with the montage of highlights backlogged for the last few minutes of the song. The single for “St. Elmo’s Fire” was a #1 hit, and the sight of the Brat Packers at the peak of their powers, in period garb and hair, careening through Georgetown is fairly classic, albeit dated.
Scandal – “Goodbye to You” (Sony, 1982)
We move from one form of video scandal to Scandal on video. Lead singer Patty Smyth and her band sport some pretty severe Miami Vice-era fashion in a straightforward slickly produced performance clip on a soundstage. Smyth appears to absent-mindedly saunter in stage left about 15 seconds in, as if she was off dusting the dining room, but couldn’t resist the good tidings emanating from the living room. The very peppy 1980s pop riff and the effortless back-and-forth slide-stepping are so contagious and easy to replicate that you might expect it on the dance floor at a bachelorette party.
The video features plenty of knowing shit-eating grins on the part of her bandmates and, in a nice touch, catching them in little Polaroid stills. As the song builds, so does her determination: looking plaintive one moment, doing a Mick Jagger duck walk the next, and ending on a stressed-out note with her on the brink of tears.
The Bangles – “Hazy Shade of Winter” (Def Jam, 1987)
“Time, time, time / See what’s become of me…” This gem of a remake of a 1966 Simon & Garfunkel song has not aged a bit, either on disc or live in concert. And the appearance of this song on the list is not a reflection on the Bangles — who remain vibrant, as reflected in their thrilling performance as headliners of a Girls Rock showcase at South by Southwest last spring, which featured a bill of girl bands inspired by the Bangles’ example. This video makes it on the strength of its subject matter, as the lead track to Less Than Zero, the film based on the debut novel by Bret Easton Ellis. Ellis, who, along with a literary brat pack of 1980s novelists, including Brett McInerney and Tama Janowitz, documented the narcissistic lifestyles of the young, fast, and fashionable in Roman à clef novels such as Bright Lives Big City, which made for excellent summer pulp reading.
The video clip makes use of the big joyous adrenalin rush embedded in the Bangles’ cover version, making use of a 1980s video cliché, the gratuitous utilization of video screens to help the viewer make a seamless literal transition from music to film and back, as we’re transported into a nightclub with video screens (another 1980s device). The promo serves as an extended trailer to the film, but just as the video looks to be destined for the dustbin of history, its inspiration — the lifestyles of the young and foolish — seems to keep coming back. One night, America is preoccupied with kids’ exploits on the Jersey shore; the next, it’s obsessed with a family known only for being in the media.
Aldo Nova – “Fantasy” (Portrait, 1982)
Laser beams, helicopters, and leopard skin bodysuits, oh my! This film within a film begins with a helicopter landing and lead singer Aldo emerging in a leopard print suit. This primitive, darkly lit video is typical of the straight-ahead performance clips of the period. Do you want action? Aldo and his security team appear locked out of the club shortly after the helicopter drop. Never fear — Aldo shoots laser beams to force his way in. Aldo rocks his mullet as the smoke machine churns, showcasing the fashions of artists and their fans, with a brief cutaway to the rock star’s posse lounging atop a Pontiac. As fans storm the stage, the singer can disappear intermittently.
Depeche Mode – “Get the Balance Right!” (Mute, 1982)
Depeche Mode were prodigious in their video output early on, demonstrating a camera readiness and thematic consistency, which gave even their earliest videos such as “Just Can’t Get Enough” and “Everything Counts”, an earnest simplicity but a professional look. The band would be pioneers, through their work with Anton Corbijn, in not only creating a visually arresting atmospheric style making use of black and white photography and iconic imagery but incorporating the videos as integral parts of their stage performance, such that the band would release video projection stills from its live shows as DVD extras.
With this experience in mind, the video for “Get the Balance Right!” is an outlier, a dated piece that has the lads lip-synching their way through a confusing narrative outfitted in lab coats (are they scientists or accountants?), battling with ticket inspectors for a turn at the Galaga game. In the meantime, it’s hard to tell when the lads are at work or play or what is up with Martin Gore’s Dixieland jazz get-up. Is he on break from Shakey’s? A close second would be the video for “Leave in Silence”, a rudimentary clip with the lads variously smashing on a parade of objects traveling down a conveyor belt while appearing as members of the Blue, Red, Green, and Yellow Man groups.
Donnie Iris – “Ah Leah” (Midwest, 1980)
Typical of other period clips, this dated promo showcases a video cliché, the inexplicable pairing of a geeky musician and a beautiful model. In real life, these pairings and the longstanding Paulina Porizkova/Ric Ocasek relationship occur. Here, the coupling just seems awkward. Our hero is Donnie Iris, the pride of Youngstown, Ohio, who is adorned in his yellow suit, channeling David Byrne, Buddy Holly, or Elvis Costello into his geek pose.
The video is a straightforward performance piece, with Donnie lip-synching his ode to Leah, using very simple techniques in a video shot in a bright video environment, with the only effect casting each of the two lead characters once they have separated in a series of mirrors. The video has a sorrowful longing — the lack of chemistry is palpable, whether by design or the product of ham-fisted acting. The phrase “When we touch, we never have to fake it” seems quite the contrary as she pushes herself away, and our hero is still longing.
Cheap Trick – “The Flame” (Epic, 1986)
For a band that will go down in history as one of the most critically praised and adored power-pop groups, as well as inspiration to a number of alternative rock artists such as the Smashing Pumpkins, this video represents Cheap Trick at one of their most bittersweet moments. The quartet’s career had seemingly stalled after a series of acclaimed but commercially wanting albums. The band were forced against their will to work with outside songwriters, and the result was this unexpected #1 hit, which propelled the album Lap of Luxury to platinum status in the United States.
In a case of being careful what you wish for, this stab at popularity while broadening Cheap Trick’s popularity, cut against the very spirit that made the band’s underground success so appealing to core fans: the way they had capitalized on Beatlemania level exuberance in Japan to achieve long-awaited success back home. Recording a tune at the label’s insistence is one thing, but the video seems to capture the process by which Cheap Trick are remade into a hair band attempting to pull off a signature ballad.
In channeling the spirit of Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn”, the video looks incredibly dated. In contrast, other power pop band videos, such as Night Ranger’s “You Can Still Rock in America” and “Your Love” by the Outfield, exude a timeless quality despite the prevalence of 1980s hair and fashion. “The Flame”, with the gratuitous use of video screens and scenes of the band members being primped for their shoot, seems to be sapped of energy. Not only do the musicians not seem to be enjoying themselves, but the individuality that once defined Cheap Trick has been submerged in lighting styles and camera angles reminiscent of every other hair band ballad being shot.
Happily, Cheap Trick endured past this moment, and after splitting from two major labels are now bigger than ever in pop culture through prominent placement in shows, ads, and video games, achieving recognition from peers and a new legion of fans.