I Love The 80s! Unplugged!

Ah, the 1980s. Big hair, shoulder pads, Transformers, the Charleston, fighting the Bosh, the electric lightbulb and ROCK. Yes ROCK. In fact, if Anne Diamond could transform into a car and ROCKed, then she’d be the perfect definition of the 80s.

When I started this I had a point but I appear to have mislaid it.

Ah yes, ROCK. Bryan Adams, G N’R, Aerosmith, Kiss, and, God forgive him, Bruce "The Boss" Springsteen. At the start of his career they thought he was the heir to Dylan, but in the mid 80s he went electric and turned it up to 11; he punched the air, put on a bandana and filled stadiums around the world. This poster boy of blue collar leftie (well, leftie in US terms) virtues started getting a following that spent their days waving flags, stockpiling weapons and campaigning against abortion.

And most of it was due to this song, Born In The USA. Misunderstood as a rallying call to all right wing Americans by the kind of people who must only listen to choruses. How can people mistake Bruce’s anger for triumphalism when you consider the following lyrics:

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I’m ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run aint got nowhere to go

Like a lot of Bruce’s work it’s about no-hopers shit-kicking in a dead-end town and the only way out is that busted up old six-string in your hand or the gun that they gave you when they sent you to ‘Nam. If you think you know it then listen to this version by Ballboy and give it a reassessment.



Ballboy - Born In The USA


It was a moment of inspired brilliance that led them to drop the chorus until the very end so the first time I heard it I didn’t even realise what it was until about half way through. It’s strange, but those wistful Scottish vocals almost add extra melancholy to this story and instead of it being one man’s tale it becomes universal; the little man v.s. life everywhere. Damn near brings a tear to these eyes.

Now, Guns N’ Roses. If Led Zeppellin had come about in the 80s then they would have been G N’R. The whole idea of them is just too big for my brain to properly compute and describe. I cannot contain them in thought or word.

How does one describe Axl Rose or Slash? Have ROCK, sex, drugs, money, excess and hair ever come together in such a perfect package before or since? I suspect not. They were Dynasty by Bruckheimer and Simpson, made of 50% coke, 50% ego and playing guitar with their cocks. But by God, against all the odds, they wrote some astonishing songs.

Here is Sweet Child O’ Mine, again, stripped down to it basics, this time by the excellent Luna. Some may consider it sacrilege, others may find it dull, but I think it’s kind of lovely.



Luna – Sweet Child Of Mine


Ricky Stardust


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