"Under the Milky Way" / The Church

Sometimes (not always) Spotify delivers on the promise. I don't think I'd ever heard this song until the algorithm threw it at me as an option for an 80s Grab Bag playlist -- but the minute I heard it, I knew it had to be in the mix.

But who is The Church? They're from Australia, so right away I ask myself, why do we not hear more about Aussie bands? Think of it: Beyond Men at Work, AC/DC, Crowded House, and INXS, who is there? Olivia Newton-John, Kylie Minogue, the BeeGees? Please. 

But I digress. Just listen to this track (which did in fact apparently crack the U.S. Top 40 in 1988) and what's not to love?

 

That folky acoustic opening draws us in, with its almost incantatory melody, but that's just the tease. It builds ominously from there, with spangly guitar flourishes and layers of synths (do I hear a wheeze of bagpipes?); all those minor and suspended chords keep us uneasy, while the drumbeat drives mercilessly ahead. Songwriter/bassist/frontman Steve Kilbey's languid vocals drip with insinuation ("Wish I knew what you were looking for / Might have known what you would find..."), and I'm hooked on the allusion and confusion. What could be more Eighties than that?

(I know, I know, I used to say that the Eighties were the decade that ruined music, but then I realized that about half of the music I most love to listen to is from the Eighties, so sue me. Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.) 

Anyway, it's a hooky, haunting pop song, and we just don't have enough of those.  

Wikipedia (because I trust it a whole lot more than Grokipedia) tells me that The Church are still touring and recording: Steve Kilbey is the only original member left, but I gather he's pretty much the driving force of the band anyway. I've listened to several of their other tracks and they're all tasty. Why has their music heretofore flown so far under my radar?

Then again, it's nice to know that there are frontiers yet to be explored . . . 

 

   

 

 

 

 

   

"Blame It on the Boogie" / Michael Jackson

When I say I'm not a Michael Jackson fan, I always have to qualify it. When the Jackson 5 first hit, I loved seeing little Michael steal the show, and their first string of Motown hits were solid radio faves. But then I lost the thread -- god, there was so much music in the early 70s that was way more to my taste -- so it wasn't until Michael broke out on his own that I paid attention again. Off the Wall took me totally by surprise, and I played it nonstop; I still think it's an extraordinary album. I got excited when Thriller came out, and it delivered the goods -- "Beat It," "Billie Jean," "Wanna Be Startin' Something," and the cryptic "Human Nature," which still kinda seems like Michael was trying to tell us something.

But in the MTV-dominated world of 1982 pop, Thriller got overplayed and overhyped and suddenly the spell snapped, at least for me. I stopped listening to Michael Jackson, and from then on he was just a curiosity to me, a mix of creepy tabloid stories and baffling reports of sold-out arenas. I knew absolutely nobody who listened to the so-called King of Pop.

And the stories got creepier. And the death story was gruesome. And how could you even listen to his music anymore?

So when my Spotify algorithm suggested this song for a playlist I was making, I almost clicked over it. But I didn't -- and it took about 10 seconds for me to be seduced by this song. It went straight onto the playlist, and every time it comes on I laugh out loud with joy. Listen and I think you'll see why. 

 

Now, I wasn't aware of this song when it first came out in 1978 -- it was recorded not by Michael solo but by the Jacksons, as they had to rename themselves after leaving Motown. Michael was already one foot out the door -- Off the Wall would come out just a few months later -- but in this video, they are still pretty adorably a brother act, with matching Afros and sunny smiles. Michael hasn't yet bleached his skin or changed his nose, and even though he's clearly front and center, Marlon and Randy and Tito and Jackie are still in the picture. 

But more than that, it's an infectious dance track with hooks galore and no matter who recorded it, it will get me out of my chair and dancing EVERY TIME. 

There's an odd story behind the song. It was actually written by a guy named, yes, Mick Jackson (what are the odds?), an English singer-songwriter with only a couple of albums to his name. This is far and away his biggest hit, and even when he wrote it, he was thinking of it as a number he might be able to sell to Stevie Wonder. (This is probably why my personal trainer always thinks it's Stevie when it comes on my workout playlist, as it often does.) Here's Mick's recording -- a genial little disco groove, but nothing memorable.

 

Mick released his version in 1978, but the Jacksons' manager heard it pre-release at a showcase, snapped it up, and somehow got the Jacksons to record their version so fast that it was actually released before Mick Jackson's.

Well, sorry Mick, but the Jacksons' track is head and shoulders better. They've taken the tempo up a tick, added a funky bass line, and brought the harmonies forward on those key words in the chorus, both the stuff you can't blame it on -- "sunshine," "moonlight," "good times" -- and the real culprit, snuck in as if no one if listening, "boogie."  I love it when everything else drops out and it's just a capella on those harmonies.

This is just pure fun distilled into three minutes and thirty-two seconds, and it restores my faith in the King of Pop.