LISTEN TO THE COUNTDOWN

Never ever thought the sky was so blue Never ever thought that I’d feel so new Always thought I’d know what to do But I guess I wasn’t counting on you

from the album Another Place And Time

Donna Summer’s Another Place And Time, written and produced entirely by Stock Aitken Waterman (save for three Summer co-writes), is an LP with an almost mythical aura - the queen of disco teams up with the kings of hi-NRG for one of the slickest, tightest, gayest records of the late eighties, boosting Donna’s career when she needed it most and allowing SAW to pair their signature style with a truly powerful (and recognisable) voice. ‘This Time I Know It’s For Real’, the album’s lead single, and one of the most euphoric pop moments of all time, set the tone, becoming the first Summer hit to reach both the US and UK top ten in a decade, and several fine singles followed in its wake (albeit without the same level of success). ‘I Don’t Wanna Get Hurt’ (UK top ten), ‘Breakaway’ (top 50) and ‘When Love Takes Over You’ (top 75) were all brilliant, but the best of the post-‘This Time’ releases was ‘Love’s About To Change My Heart’.

While ‘This Time I Know It’s For Real’ was a relentless statement of intent, a new Donna for a new era, ‘Love’s About To Change My Heart’ is a spiritual successor to ‘Last Dance’ or ‘No More Tears’, a portrait of a lonely soul whose life will be forever altered by the power of hot disco beats (and love, I suppose). Donna Summer’s voice had already taken on disco, rock, and R&B, and the way she slots perfectly into the upbeat positivity of hi-NRG would set the scene for “diva house” to take over dance floors in the early nineties - indeed, when a proposed follow-up to Another Place And Time never came to fruition, the SAW tracks intended for that project were recorded by Lonnie Gordon, who would become a quintessential voice of diva house. ‘Love’s About To Change My Heart’, like all the later singles from Another Place And Time, may suffer due to the simple fact that it is not ‘This Time I Know It’s For Real’, but Donna’s mighty vocal gives the song its own emotional identity, an old-school performance on a track that was, at the time, bang on-trend.

‘Love’s About To Change My Heart’ music video:

Chart peaks: UK #20, AUS #71, US #85

Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down I think you only live to see the lights of town I wasted my time when I would try, try, try ‘Cause when the lights have lost their glow, you’ll cry, cry, cry

from the album Johnny Cash With His Hot And Blue Guitar

Johnny Cash’s first single, which paired ‘Hey Porter’ with ‘Cry, Cry, Cry’, set the tone for two of the most prominent themes explored during his long, prolific career: the former is a train song, establishing Cash’s ability to relate just about any emotion you can think of to the experience of travelling across America by rail, while the latter depicts the a tortured romance, one in which the wronged party is particularly spiteful. Recorded with backing band The Tennessee Two at the famed Sun Studios, both songs found success upon their release in May 1955, but it was ‘Cry, Cry, Cry’ (or ‘Cry! Cry! Cry!’, depending on which release you’re looking at) that connected most significantly with audiences, becoming Cash’s first charting hit.

‘Cry, Cry, Cry’ revealed Johnny Cash to be a complex new talent, despite the track’s minimalist sound. The most obvious, most striking element of the recording is Cash’s voice, which was not yet as rough as we would come to remember it, but is still a deep, gravelly sound that would have stood out like a sore thumb on the country radio of the fifties - and rather than using it to profess undying love, Cash was instead taking a female lover to task. In ‘Cry, Cry, Cry’, Cash plays the forlorn romantic, lying awake while his girlfriend runs around on him after dark. Having found himself in a position that, in country music, is usually occupied by a heartbroken woman, Cash channels his anger to promise that one day, even far in the future, this girl might feel the same pain she has caused him. ‘Cry, Cry, Cry’ prepared Cash’s newfound audience for similarly themed follow-up singles like ‘I Walk The Line’ and ‘Big River’, but you can even trace his most famous latter-day recordings back to this debut - from ‘you’re gonna cry, cry, cry’ to ‘I will make you hurt’, Johnny Cash was always the king of country darkness, and it all began here.

‘Cry, Cry, Cry’ audio:

You think you found a dream, then it shatters and it seems That Alisha rules the world

from the album Alisha Rules The World

As Alisha’s Attic, sisters Shelly and Karen Poole never seemed to reach their full hit potential, with none of their singles or albums reaching the top ten of any major market, though several came achingly close in the UK. Looking back, it feels like the duo, who were the daughters of sixties hitmaker Brian Poole and had their debut LP produced by Dave Stewart of Eurythmics, struggled with their musical identity. They were too pop to be taken seriously by rock fans, and seemingly determined to project a moody image (as seen in this Top Of The Pops performance of ‘Alisha Rules The World’) that didn’t quite align with the actual music, which was mostly light and radio-friendly.

Obviously, I have no issue with any of this, as this is, after all, a list of my favourite songs - when they got it right, like on their debut release* ‘I Am, I Feel’ or on the even stronger follow-up ‘Alisha Rules The World’, the Poole sisters could go bindi-to-bindi with the best alt-pop females of the era, particularly as songwriters. ‘Alisha Rules The World’ is their most natural on-record moment, a straightforward pop song with a bit of bite, a track that could exist happily in the era of Spicemania with just enough attitude to set Alisha’s Attic apart. When Alisha’s Attic came to a natural end after three albums, both Shelly and Karen would become writers-for-hire, a fitting career for two sisters who excelled at clever turns of phrase and delivering infectious, deceptively simple melodies.

* Well, not really. Their debut release, which flopped into oblivion and allowed “Keren & Chelle” the opportunity to regroup as Alisha’s Attic, was this gloriously shit Stock Aitken Waterman tribute.

‘Alisha Rules The World’ music video:

Chart peaks: UK #12, AUS #26

She hides true love, en su bolsillo She’s got a halo ‘round her finger, around you

from the album The Fame Monster

Looking back on ‘Alejandro’ now, nearly a decade after its release, we can surmise that the track’s single campaign signified the absolute peak of media and fan obsession with who Lady Gaga was and was not “copying”. First featured on 2009’s The Fame Monster, ‘Alejandro’ sounded different to any of Gaga’s previous hits (it’s closest relative, ‘Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)’, had only been released in select territories), drawing from European pop even more significantly than before and garnering constant comparisons to Swedish legends Ace Of Base. Written with frequent early collaborator RedOne (himself a immigrant to Sweden), there’s no denying the song draws heavily from the same bouncy, melodic vibe that made Ace Of Base one of the most successful international acts of the nineties - but there are elements of ‘Alejandro’ that are uniquely Gaga, like the camp dramatics of the spoken introduction, or her tendency to tackle potentially frothy pop songs with a theatric intensity, a thoroughly American approach that would never have gelled with Ace Of Base’s more restrained style.

‘Alejandro’s music video, which premiered in mid-2010, inspired more heated discussion, with further comparisons that are, in hindsight, quite a compliment, but at the time would have just felt annoying. Yes, it’s the M-word: Madonna looms large over the ‘Alejandro’ video, with visuals reminiscent of ‘Vogue’, ‘Like A Prayer’, Blond Ambition, and especially ‘Express Yourself’, but to cast the video aside as nothing more than a Madonna tribute is to sell it short. Gaga took a song which, pre-video, was considered to be a summer smash-in-waiting, her most carefree and joyful single since ‘LoveGame’, and gave it a dark, militaristic visual filled with queerness, references to Bob Fosse’s Cabaret, and religious imagery (which former Christian rock singer Katy Perry dismissed as “cheap”), a risky move that could only be made by an artist at the top of their game. Like so much of Gaga’s output during this time, ‘Alejandro’ existed on multiple levels: as light, sing-a-long pop, as controversial, boundary-pushing mainstream art, and as a summation of the half-century of pop culture that preceded her - Gaga is so often compared to icons of the past not just because she is unafraid to reference (or not reference), but because her work often contains the same distinct thrill that came from seeing those icons at their peak.

‘Alejandro’ music video:

Chart peaks: AUS #2, US #5, UK #7

A little hope goes up in smoke

from the album Horizon

Before Richard and Karen Carpenter recorded ‘Solitaire’ for their 1975 album Horizon, several versions had already been released, by the likes of Andy Williams, The Searchers, and the song’s author, Neil Sedaka. Listening to these renditions is enjoyable, as the song is wonderful in any form, but they are all missing something crucial - Karen’s voice, which regularly elevated well-written songs about love and heartache into spellbinding works of pop art, able to convey both subtle and overt emotional narratives while remaining palatable to a conservative easy-listening audience.

I always assumed ‘Solitaire’ was considered one of the Carpenters’ all-time greatest hits due to Karen’s masterful performance, but the single was a flop upon its release. In fact, after a string of twelve near-consecutive US top ten hits, ‘Solitaire’ would begin the duo’s slide into chart irrelevance, a truly frustrating result for such an outstanding song. Even the Carpenters themselves apparently felt ambivalent (Richard) or even dismissive (Karen) towards the song, perhaps feeling that it was too depressing, even by their standards. ‘Solitaire’ may have left a more complicated legacy than most of the bigger Carpenters hits, but (to me, anyway) it is just as sublime, a showcase for Sedaka’s writing, Richard’s lavishly detailed production, and of course, Karen’s unrivalled interpretive skills.

‘Solitaire’ audio:

Chart peaks: US #17, UK #32, AUS #61

While your feet are stomping And the jam is pumping Look ahead The crowd is jumping

from the album Pump Up The Jam: The Album

Milli Vanilli became the poster boys for musical fraud when they were revealed, in late 1990, to have been lip synching to session singers’ vocals, but they were far from the only act of the era to have sold a product with misleading visuals. Black Box, C+C Music Factory and Australian act Euphoria all did it, while Belgian dance project Technotronic, led by producer Jo Bogaert, went one step further: their 1989 breakthrough hit gave an official featuring credit to Felly, a model who had contributed not a shred of original vocals to the song. Lucky then, that much like ‘Ride On Time’ and ‘Gonna Make You Sweat’, ‘Pump Up The Jam’ would become an all-time dance classic, and the controversy was largely overshadowed by the sheer magnitude of the track’s popularity - it would be credited as a breakthrough moment for house music in the US, where it vaulted into the top three, and by mid-1990, they were supporting Madonna on the legendary Blond Ambition World Tour (with the actual ‘Pump Up The Jam’ vocalist, Ya Kid K, front and centre).

Enlisting Ya Kid K as the track’s commanding frontwoman, even if she was initially sidelined, was ‘Pump Up The Jam’s secret weapon - as a rapper/singer, she infused the single with elements of both hip hop and pop, giving it a leg-up over more “pure” house records that may not have appealed so broadly to international audiences. The tactic of tapping into a cross-section of then-current trends makes ‘Pump Up The Jam’ a microcosm of dance-pop in 1989, but it’s the strength of the composition itself - the drama of that instantly recognisable intro, the give-and-take relationship between the vocals and the beat, and the joyful spirit of what would become clichés of the genre (“Get your booty on the floor! Make my day!”) that guaranteed ‘Pump Up The Jam’ would endure far beyond Technotronic’s brief, but hugely important, moment at the top.

‘Pump Up The Jam’ music video:

Chart peaks: UK #2, US #2, AUS #4

The drugs, they say, make us feel so hollow We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow The cops and queers, to swim, you have to swallow Hate today, no love for tomorrow

from the album Mechanical Animals

Following the release of his band’s breakthrough album Antichrist Superstar, Marilyn Manson had become a pop sensation, whether he had intended to do so or not: by occupying a place in American culture that painted him as a child corruptor, a promoter of bad taste, and, in extreme cases, a literal Satanist, he had penetrated the mainstream at a level that was usually reserved for mega-selling pop acts, and, as the nineties came to a close, he would only get more notorious. Mechanical Animals, his first LP as a household name, no longer positioned Manson and his bandmates as active participants in the debauchery and controversy that had driven the Antichrist Superstar-era - instead, this concept album served to deconstruct the media circus that had brought the band their fame, and the contradictions inherent in using that very platform to sell what is, at the end of the day, still a commercial product.

As a product, Mechanical Animals was marketed and sold exceptionally well, as evidenced by the LP’s entry at number one on the Billboard 200, and much of this success can be attributed to lead single ‘The Dope Show’, a track which expanded upon all the hysteria surrounding Antichrist Superstar and repackaged it for MTV. In the song itself, Manson denigrates himself and his peers, sneering at the lengths in which they had gone to generate notoriety for themselves, and foreshadowing the eventual end of his run as the conservative media’s public enemy number one. In the video, he stops fucking with religion for a minute to fuck with gender instead, recreating the Mechanical Animals album cover and transforming into a glamorous, androgynous alien, a now-iconic image that was specifically designed to shock, horrify, and most importantly, get people talking. 

When MTV’s Total Request Live, the show that would become synonymous with the teen-pop explosion of the late-nineties, debuted on September 14, 1998, ‘The Dope Show’ was sitting pretty in the top ten most requested videos, right between Usher and Will Smith - Marilyn Manson had officially reached his commercial peak. How fitting, then, that it would be with a song that was both a genuinely awesome glam-industrial hybrid, and a cynically self-aware takedown of the very system in which its creator was now thriving.

‘The Dope Show’ music video:

Chart peaks: UK #12, AUS #20

Don’t you know things happen for a reason

It’s meant to be, just like the change of seasons

from the album Kim Appleby

Though their discography would amount to just one album and four singles, for eighteen glorious months between 1986 and 1988, Melanie and Kim Appleby - as Mel & Kim, of course - encapsulated the joy of young British pop, their Stock Aitken Waterman anthems espousing the merits of being yourself, having a good time and setting the scene for an eventual explosion of Girl Power. Unlike many other SAW artists, it seemed feasible that Mel & Kim had the charisma and drive to extend their fame for at least another couple of years, but it wasn’t to be: Mel was sick, and she tragically passed away in January 1990, aged just 23.

Mel’s death left Kim in an unimaginably difficult situation. Nobody would have blamed the elder Appleby if she chose to retire from music, but she pressed on - armed with several songs co-written with her sister intended for their second album, and the assistance of ex-Bros member and boyfriend Craig Logan, Kim launched her solo career in October 1990 with the unexpectedly euphoric single ‘Don’t Worry’.

Standing all on my own...

Considering their shared image was built on positivity, addressing Mel’s passing in Kim’s solo work was always going to be a difficult task. The ultimate result, ‘Don’t Worry’, was perfectly realised: a dance track with an optimistic lyric, technically about romantic relationships but broad enough to be applied to any hardship or loss, the single developed the Mel & Kim sound while allowing Kim the scope to push her solo career into more mature, nuanced territory. One of Mel & Kim’s key selling points was the notion that their teenage fans could be just like them, carefree and rebellious. As you get older, however, life takes unexpected, often terribly sad turns - ‘Don’t Worry’ is an assurance that those situations can also be approached with the same sense of self-assurance and hope.

‘Don’t Worry’ music video:

Chart peak: UK #2

Our friends would all make fun of us And we’ll just laugh along Because we know that none of them have felt this way

from the album All That We Needed

On the surface, very little about ‘Hey There Delilah’ would seem to warrant much deep thought. The image of a white guy with a guitar singing to his absent girlfriend is almost laughably cliché, and even the band name - Plain White T’s - is the epitome of boring, but ‘Hey There Delilah’ was far more interesting than your average lovelorn ballad, with a controversial history and a wide-eyed sincerity to the lyrics that will either make your heart sing or your skin crawl, depending on your view.

Before ‘Hey There Delilah’, Plain White T’s had been kicking around since 1997, led by vocalist and primary songwriter Tom Higgenson, eventually releasing two albums on pop-punk label Fearless in 2002 and 2005. The latter LP, All That We Needed, featured ‘Hey There Delilah’ as its final track, and following the song’s release as a single in May 2006, it slowly but surely gained airplay, eventually becoming a bonus track on the band’s next album, Every Second Counts, released that September on Disney’s Hollywood Records. Despite having been released over two years earlier, the single continued to gain momentum in the first half of 2007, concluding its incredibly long journey to the top that July, when ‘Hey There Delilah’ peaked at number one on the Billboard Hot 100.

Across its extended lifespan, ‘Hey There Delilah’ captured the imagination of listeners, with many eager to know the true story behind this charming love song. It turned out there was a real Delilah - Delilah DiCrescenzo, a distance runner who was attending Columbia University at the time the song was written - but she and Higgenson, who met via a mutual friend, had never been romantically involved (or even close to it), and some reports insinuated that she was less than flattered by the association. When the track was nominated for two Grammys in 2008, however, DiCrescenzo attended the ceremony with the band, indicating that she was, at the very least, cool with her unexpected musical fame, and she told ESPN in 2013 that she had come to a place where she could enjoy the song for what it was.

Ultimately, the song took on a life of its own, one that stretched far beyond the experiences of Higgenson or DiCrescenzo, and far beyond the Plain White T’s, who would never again enjoy this level of pop success. With reports emerging last year that the lyrical narrative (not the true circumstances of the song’s conception) would be adapted into a television show, ‘Hey There Delilah’ shows no sign of slipping from the public consciousness, becoming both an icon of the mid-2000s and a lightning rod for nostalgic humour. In the end, the real story behind the song is of very little consequence - it was the romantic fantasy of ‘Hey There Delilah’, of two lovers pulled apart by circumstance, that pushed it from obscurity to the top of the pops, and will, above all else, be its legacy.

‘Hey There Delilah’ music video:

Chart peaks: US #1, UK #2, AUS #3

This is our planet You’re one of us

from the album Bad

Of the seven singles from Michael Jackson’s Bad that were released in the US, ‘Another Part Of Me’ is easily the most commonly overlooked - although when five of those singles were number ones, and the other was ‘Smooth Criminal’, its semi-obscurity begins to make more sense. Despite “only” peaking at number 11 on the Hot 100 and missing out on a high-budget studio video, ‘Another Part Of Me’ is an important part of Bad’s story, from its origins in the 1986 Disney short film Captain EO, to nearly getting left on the cutting room floor, to getting its moment in the sun as a single - and proving that social justice themes and ‘We Are The World’-isms could fit just fine into a slamming pop-R&B track (Janet was taking notes, presumably).

Directed by Francis Ford Coppola and starring Michael alongside Anjelica Huston, Captain EO was fairly standard in its content - an uncomplicated, family-friendly story about using the power of music to transform evil, but it was inaccessible to 99% of Michael’s fanbase, screening only at Disney theme parks as part of a special 3D attraction, leaving its music largely unheard by the masses. ‘Another Part Of Me’ was one of two tracks featured in the film (‘We Are Here To Change The World’ would go unreleased until its appearance on 2004’s The Ultimate Collection), and, in its full form, is a catchy, brilliantly sung call-to-arms, deserving of an opportunity to be heard by those who couldn’t pop down to Epcot and catch Captain EO on the big screen.

Even then, ‘Another Part Of Me’ was nearly deleted from Bad to make way for ‘Streetwalker’, a track that is worth hearing for its impressive vocal on the chorus, but, had it been included, would have been the album’s weak link (oddly, since the ‘Cry’ single was my first Michael Jackson CD, I actually owned ‘Streetwalker’, which featured as a B-side, before I owned any of the real Bad tracks). Surviving the possibility of remaining exclusive to Captain EO, then the threat of being replaced by ‘Streetwalker’, ‘Another Part Of Me’ fought for its place in the spotlight, making its euphoric, optimistic vibe even more gratifying.

‘Another Part Of Me’ music video:

Chart peaks: US #11, UK #15, AUS #44

Now what you hear is not a test I’m rapping to the beat

from the album Sugarhill Gang

Where do you even begin when talking about ‘Rapper’s Delight’? It’s very easy to point to revered, groundbreaking singles and say that they “changed the world”, but there is no doubt that the Sugarhill Gang’s 1979 recording, the first hip hop track to gain widespread attention, actually did alter the way culture progressed across the next four decades. ‘Rapper’s Delight’ opened the door for new generations of black artists, gave black youth a unique voice, and allowed the records that followed in its wake to address social and political issues that, without this platform, would likely have remained unspoken and obscured.

Nobody could have known all that in 1979, of course, and this newfangled rap style was seen by some as a fad - so how does ‘Rapper’s Delight’, a fifteen-minute epic that could have easily descended into novelty as its minutes wore on, hold up today? From the Chic sample, to the iconic opening declaration, right on down to Wonder Mike’s verse about going over to a friend’s house to eat, ‘Rapper’s Delight’ is still a joy, incorporating humour, braggadocio, scenes from everyday life, pop culture references, and calls to the dance floor. With so much ground covered so skilfully, ‘Rapper’s Delight’ succeeds as both an artistic blueprint and as pure entertainment - it’s not just one of the most important recordings of the twentieth century, it’s tons of fun, too, regardless of whether you’re listening in 1979 or 2019.

‘Rapper’s Delight’ audio:

Chart peaks: UK #3, US #36, AUS #37

I can play hide and seek with my fears And live my days, ‘stead of counting my years

released as a non-album single

With no chorus and lyrics that lament lost time, rather than lost love, ‘Goin’ Back’ was not your average Gerry Goffin/Carole King song, and it took a little time to find the right vocalist. A version by Polish-American singer Goldie ended up being withdrawn, and a planned recording by Carole herself failed to materalise (she would later record the song twice, in 1970 and 1980), but once ‘Goin’ Back’ was offered to Dusty Springfield, it became clear that the song had found its rightful home. Nobody could capture the deep melancholy of the lyrics like Dusty - not even Carole, on her own recordings, achieved quite the same nostalgic fantasy - and ‘Goin’ Back’ represented both a risk and step forward for her at a time when she was experiencing her greatest commercial success.

As the follow-up to the number one single ‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me’, the unusually structured ‘Goin’ Back’ could have easily been rejected by audiences, even if Dusty had already established herself as a master of sweeping pop drama. When it reached the UK top ten, however, it was a signal that the record-buying public was more than ready for Dusty to tackle broader subject matter in more mature, experimental fashions. It was ‘Goin’ Back’, more than any other song, that paved the way for Dusty In Memphis, if not in sound, then in spirit - Dusty Springfield had begun to leave her peers behind, ready to begin operating on a new level, one where the constraints and expectations placed upon the female singers of the era were able to be pushed to their very limit.

‘Goin’ Back’ audio:

Chart peaks: AUS #9, UK #10

Stranger in my own land, can’t understand How the very word “Australian” has just been damned

from the album An Elefant Never Forgets

On August 24, 2001, a wooden fishing boat containing 438 refugees, mostly Hazara people native to central Afghanistan, became stranded north of Christmas Island and was subject to a rescue mission by the Norwegian freighter Tampa. When the Tampa attempted to bring the refugees, many of whom were severely ill, into Australian territory, they were denied permission, a crisis which led to the deployment of Australian SASR troops to prevent the ship from moving any closer. A hugely controversial international incident, the “Tampa affair” led to the introduction of the Pacific Solution, an Australian government policy of sending asylum seekers to detention centres in the island countries of Nauru and Papua New Guinea, rather than accepting them directly into Australia. Surveys of the public around this time showed overwhelming support for the actions of the Australian government, a situation that was only heightened by the September 11 attacks in the US the following month, and in the November 2001 federal election, the incumbent Howard government won by a comfortable margin.

Also in 2001, hip hop collective The Herd were officially formed in Sydney, building a following thanks to their fearlessly political, uniquely Australian lyrics. Though their debut single ‘Scallops’ made significant waves, it was the double whammy of 2003’s ‘Burn Down The Parliament’ and ‘77%’ that brought the outfit to national prominence, gaining heavy airplay on Triple J. The latter track, based on a poll that indicated 77% of Australians supported the government’s response to the Tampa incident, sees white MC Ozi Batla attempting to come to terms with a racist reality, laid bare in the form of statistics, for all to see. The result is a fireball of energy, a furious assault on the reprehensible actions of the government and the subsequent support of the Australian people, the great majority of whom are, of course, not native to the land they now lived their very privileged lives upon. Opening with quotes from news media that paint a deplorable portrait of the times, ‘77%’ alternates verbose, angry verses with a chorus that gets directly to the point: “Wake up/This country needs a fucking shake-up/Wake up/These cunts need a shake-up”.

I was not old enough in 2001 to grasp national politics or understand what what was going on regarding the Tampa, though I do remember the coverage. By 2003, however, I was starting to "wake up”, and '77%’ was both a shock and a confirmation of a disconnect between what I saw in the media regarding immigration and race, and how I actually felt. Even so, the ferocity of ‘77%’ was still a shock, and I listen back with great admiration for Ozi Batla’s performance, particularly when, as the song makes abundantly clear, the majority of Australians did not share his views.

A few months ago, The Herd appeared on Triple J performing an updated version of ‘77%’, and there’s no question that we still need the song’s message, sixteen years since its original release. Sometimes, even now, the track can be a tough listen, but that only adds to its power - in my view, it remains one of the most significant Australian recordings of the century so far, an unflinching reminder of a distressing, inescapable truth.

‘77%’ music video:

With looks that kill and a mind that’s twisted I don’t know why I can’t resist it

from the album Seven The Hard Way

Ask someone to name one, or even five, Pat Benatar songs, and very few of them would name ‘Sex As A Weapon’, a 1985 single that was a decent hit at the time (top thirty Pop, top five Mainstream Rock) but never reached the level of recognition enjoyed by the likes of ‘Love Is A Battlefield’ or ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’. I can’t really dispute that status - Benatar’s signature songs are all signatures for good reason, and this won’t be her only entry on this list - but ‘Sex As A Weapon’ is so completely up my alley, an underrated joy steeped in the fabulous rock clichés of the mid-eighties.

‘Sex As A Weapon’ was written by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly, who were fresh off the success of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’, but Benatar wasn’t jumping on any bandwagons - she had worked with both Steinberg and Kelly since her 1981 album Precious Time, though this would be the first time she sang a song that had been composed by them as a duo. It helps, too, that ‘Sex’ sounds nothing like ‘Virgin’, instead serving up a confrontational rock anthem that retains the hard edge of Benatar’s earlier hits while ensuring she still sounded right at home on a rapidly evolving MTV. Prior Benatar hit had always relied on massive hook, and this is no exception, particular with its repetition of the title in the bridge, then the chorus: on the former, it’s a warning, on the latter, she explodes. ‘Sex As A Weapon’ isn’t timeless, nor is it really suited to oldies radio, but for those who wish to dig deeper than the very biggest hits, this aggressive, addictive bop is just begging to be rediscovered.

‘Sex As A Weapon’ music video:

Chart peaks: US #28, AUS #33, UK #67

I love your motivation And I love your desperation

from the album Pop Art

She may have looked like a model from a teen magazine, but as frontwoman of Transvision Vamp, Wendy James was no shrinking violet, willing to throw herself into the role of rock star while retaining a keen understanding of her own identity and appeal. Formed in 1986, Transvision Vamp grew from a post-punk scene that had now become totally intertwined with commercial pop, and they successfully straddled two worlds for the duration of the late eighties, combining a polished-but-rebellious image with an affinity for pure, catchy hooks.

The band’s first big hit, ‘I Want Your Love’, is the best demonstration of their appeal, with James channeling rock divas past and present in a star-making performance. She preens and struts while taking full command of the track, navigating every hook (and there are many) with the confidence of a veteran. ‘I Want Your Love’, in retrospect, was too much, too soon - even on a bigger hit like ‘Baby, I Don’t Care’, Transvision Vamp could never top themselves, and soon enough, they were being called overblown, overhyped and pretentious. Their 1989 album Velveteen topped the UK charts, but the follow-up, 1991’s much-maligned and ridiculously titled Little Magnets Versus The Bubble Of Babble went unreleased in their home country, a shockingly swift and conclusive end to an intense career. You won’t find me going to bat for Transvision Vamp’s later work as some treasure trove of lost classics, but there’s no arguing that Wendy James was a fabulous, underappreciated pop figure, and ‘I Want Your Love’ is her peak.

‘I Want Your Love’ music video:

Chart peaks: UK #5, AUS #7

Am I going crazy Or is this just a dream?

from the album Eric Burdon Declares “War”

It feels so right that Eric Burdon & War released their first record during the first six months of the seventies, as their multi-racial line-up and fusion of rock, funk and soul feel like the perfect mix to welcome a new decade full of fresh hope. Burdon, who had sung sixties classics like ‘The House Of The Rising Sun’ and ‘We Gotta Get Out Of This Place’ as the leader of The Animals, joined forces with War when he was living in California during 1969, and by August of the following year, they had taken a strange, psychedelic journey into the Billboard top three.

‘Spill The Wine’ may have been an unlikely hit due to its atypical structure and subject matter, but there’s no mystery as to why the public responded so positively to the single - it was a perfect meeting point for several audiences and genres, a unique fantasy that never feels like it’s pandering to any one group. The union between Burdon and War would not last beyond two albums, but while Burdon explored other pursuits, War were able to continue in their own right, sailing through the seventies on a string of hits, some of which were arguably even bigger than ‘Spill The Wine’. Still, this jumping-off point remained a highlight of both act’s discographies - by taking the harmonious ideals of the sixties and filtering them through their own distinct blend, Eric Burdon and War were preparing listeners for the dawning of a new age.

‘Spill The Wine’ audio:

Chart peaks: AUS #2, US #3

Be careful what you wish for ‘Cause you just might get it

from the album Doll Domination

For an act who only lasted two albums, the Pussycat Dolls certainly left an impression on pop, garnering attention for their overtly sexual image (the band did originate as a burlesque troupe, after all) and the way they made no attempt to disguise the fact that Nicole Scherzinger provided 99% of the vocals heard on the group’s records. The emphasis on Nicole eventually led to the end of PCD, but it was certainly a successful formula while it lasted - for whatever reason, American audiences did not take to Nicole Scherzinger as a solo star (significant but ultimately short-lived success in the UK was her consolation prize), and there is still regular buzz for a Pussycat Dolls reunion, despite the fact that any new material would presumably sound more or less the same as Nicole’s solo work.

Across those two LPs, there were several great Pussycat Dolls singles - ‘Don’t Cha’, ‘Stickwitu’, ‘I Don’t Need A Man’ and ‘Hush Hush; Hush Hush’, to name a few - but my favourite is their most relentless dance-pop moment, the cautionary ‘When I Grow Up’. Before PCD could even get to a second album, the cracks had begun to show: a legendarily messy American Music Awards performance of ‘Buttons’ featured group member Melody attempting to overshadow Nicole and finally grab just a sliver of the limelight, a TV series to find a seventh Pussycat Doll had ended with the winner going solo, and long-time group member Carmit Bachar, who had been part of PCD since 1995, departed the line-up. Meanwhile, Nicole had her ego bruised when early attempts at solo success had floundered, and ‘When I Grow Up’ was not only a confirmation that the Pussycat Dolls would remain primarily a vehicle for her talents, but that the whirlwind of the past few years would only make her more over-the-top, more eager to justify herself as the focal point of a now mega-famous group.

Though she didn’t write it, ‘When I Grow Up’ invokes Nicole’s journey through the ups and downs of the music industry - in the early 2000s, she had been a part of Eden’s Crush, the short-lived winners of reality talent show Popstars - finally arriving at the current moment, in which she had, at last, achieved her goal. With a Darkchild production that was just as banging as you would hope, the track features the most memorable PCD hook since ‘Don’t Cha’, a celebration of paparazzi culture delivered with an ominous warning: fame might not turn out exactly the way you planned. That caveat could be directed at Nicole’s bandmates - in the context of the Pussycat Dolls, they might be relegated to the background, but as they happily danced around Nicole in the ‘When I Grow Up’ video, they must have known that thousands of women would have killed to have their luck. By early 2010, this incarnation of the Pussycat Dolls had come to an end, and as one of their last major hits, ‘When I Grow Up’ represents a key moment for a fascinating pop group, an irresistibly self-aware single that defined their tumultuous few years at the top.

‘When I Grow Up’ music video:

Chart peaks: AUS #2, UK #3, US #9