1987

[11] Simply Red, ‘The Right Thing’

The best bit of this record is the end. By the time we put this on, Junior had resorted to playing hide and seek by sitting on dad’s head (you try and find a baby that’s sitting on your head).

When I say the end, I mean the last minute. The flame-haired, jewel-toothed, priapic, McCutcheon-bothering minstrel changes the key and stretches his ad lib wings, and we can forget the dry work-out of the first three minutes. Nothing special, though. Hucknall was never as special as he thought, unlikely voice apart.

I heard ‘Something Got Me Started’ the other day. Horrible song, yet brimming with enormous, tangible confidence. It got me thinking that it wasn’t just the broad appeal MOR coffee-table soul that made him so successful; it was also his unstoppable, brash belief that he had everything and could do anything. Without that, he was just another Sade, albeit one a little less easy on the eye.

Now, don’t go deserting 1987 in your Duranie-like droves. The Top 10’s mustard.

[12] Deacon Blue, ‘Dignity’

Bear with me, Raintown was a good album for all its vanity and overarching straight-facedness. Everyone hated Ricky and Lorraine though, didn’t they? Things got worse when he grew a bob and she grabbed more vocals.

Not a hit with Junior, this. Her reactions were a little sluggish after staying up to watch Celebrity Big Brother last night, and it would have taken more than the aspirations of a Scotch binman to wrest her from her torpor.

This is another of those records that I clearly liked more 19 years ago. Not quite as inexplicable as the next one, but overblown and ’80s as it gets.

[13] Duran Duran, ‘Skin Trade’

Like a typical Duranie of the period, Junior was indifferent to this. There was a brief slapping of the thighs at the start, yet attention soon turned to the socks. So, what made the fans desert in their droves? I don’t think it’s a bad record even now, but it was the first to miss the Top 10 in years. Maybe it’s because it had an almost intelligible lyric.

Arcadia and the Power Station diluted the fanbase and the preceding single ‘Notorious’ scraped to No.7 on comeback power alone. A-ha had nicked the girls and the CD age had come and populated the chart’s upper reaches with the more ‘serious’ artists. The biggest bands in the country were now Dire Straits and U2. Duran Duran’s fabled mix of the Sex Pistols and Chic – without the Sex Pistols and the disco joy – wasn’t cutting the ice.

So, Simon, we’ve explained the reason for this strange behaviour. Perhaps you shouldn’t have allowed all those Taylors to jump ship, and then replaced them with AMERICANS.

[14] The Cure, ‘Just Like Heaven’

Junior’s mum reports that this was a bigger success: it had Junior up and boogie-ing with panda, a handy Robert Smith lookalike. The song reminds me of the summer, and getting a taste of heartbreak, but otherwise I was a bit ambivalent about The Cure while somehow having loads of their records.

It’s a lovely tune – even the Dinosaur Jr version is sweet until he starts roaring – and Smith keeps the yelping in check. I saw Katie Melua performing it on Popworld or something a few weeks back, treating us to an acoustic take which was designed to show the astonished masses that she’d cleverly found a Real Song behind the nasty loud rock noise. Well done, Katie.

Come the revolution…

[15] The Wonder Stuff, ‘Unbearable’

Foreshadowing James Blunt by a couple of decades in the rhyming slang stakes, Miles Hunt introduced his troupe of Black Country grebo-pop rockers to the world with this quickfire, snotty-nosed number. They were the greatest band ever for a year, before I woke up, got serious and cared more about girls. As late as 1990 though, I was bonding with fellow undergraduates over Stuffies (as the Melody Maker undoubtedly called them) t-shirts and posters.

The twin millstones of ‘Size Of A Cow’ and ‘Dizzy’ will live longer in the collective memory, but over a couple of albums they brought together countless floppy fringed and oversized topped teenage boys with their spiky, catchy pop punk. We even turned up to their gigs a couple of years back. It’s hard to let go.

Junior was asleep when I left for work this morning, so for a change she’s listened to this and the next tune with her mum. Speaking to her mum just now, I’m told that while this was playing Junior was lying stock straight on her mat, waving her arms and legs just a little. She’s growing up a bit faster than her dad.

[16] Aerosmith, ‘Dude (Looks Like A Lady)’

Hilarious stuff – “Lord, imagine my surprise!” – and a raucous, headlong assault on the heart of the rawk. I still think it’s a bit of a gem, and Junior looked like she was having a ball as well. There were squeals to accompany the now standard claps, and she grinned like she could see herself in the mirror. 

When we were 15, most of my friends were into heavy metal or rock at the very least. I didn’t really catch the bug, but I always reckoned this was because I’d been a record buyer for years. For many of them, this was the first time that music was twitching their synapses, and a teenage boy can hardly start with an A-ha single. I no longer had this kind of shame, but I liked a bit of Aerosmith and AC/DC. The rest could go hang.

It’s a mixed bag, this 1987 set. That was the identity I seemed to be forging, and it’s stayed with me – anything goes as long as it’s good. A formative year, then, that’ll do for my novel.

[17] INXS, ‘Need You Tonight’

Taking INXS’ Kick into school in the fifth form brought some unexpected kudos, but they were never really loved, were they? There were enormous global sales, unprecedented female attention for Michael Hutchence and a funky bar room sound that could appeal to the boys, yet still no one would ever say that they were their favourite band.

So when Hutchence knuckle-shuffled off this mortal coil, the posthumous Number Ones didn’t ensue. There were no voices raised in grief, wailing “First Kurt, then Diana, now Michael – when will the killing end?” and no fountains commissioned. No, we became voyeurs, and took cheap shots at the names of Paula Yates’ children.

‘Need You Tonight’ has retained its groove. Junior, in fact, is in raptures as it kicks off and Dad discovers he can do a passable Kanye Gold Digger dance to it. It’s a sexy record, I suppose, of the sort that INXS could pull off every album or so, but it’s ultimately unsatisfying. It peters out, and loses its gist through false endings. Even its real ending seems false. You can almost sense the ghost of Bruno Brookes wondering when to cut in.

[18] Labi Siffre, ‘(Something Inside) So Strong’

This record ended Apartheid.

It’s also used by advertising frippers to sell stuff to us, which I don’t think is the point at all. Faced with this song, we have to adopt worthy poses and wring our hands. Junior and I try this for a bit, but we soon lapse into pat-a-cake. We weren’t prepared for serious records when counting down the 1987 chart. Things will get right back on track next time, when we dust off our Michael Hutchence jokes, although I appear to have forgotten the fab new one I made up the other day.

‘(Something Inside) So Strong’ isn’t a bad tune, it’s just tainted by memories of the politically correct, cause-fixated ’80s. Gives it a pomposity it might not have otherwise – well, maybe – and we all like to prick that bubble.

But let’s not bandy the “pompous” adjective around too cheaply, with Mick Hucknall and Ricky Ross still to come.

Before we have to face that fear, though, there are lots of boys with guitars and big teased hair and make-up and Bass Things.

[19] The Cult, ‘Love Removal Machine’

Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy BETRAYED the Goths with the fantastically derivative yet ace Electric.

Junior rejoices in the power of the ‘Start Me Up’ riff. Propped up by a couple of cushions, she rocks out, claps her hands, grins and shakes her stuff. Loud guitars are a new thing for her but, as she indicated with ZZ Top, she’s ready to embrace the rawk.

The single sleeve claims that ‘Love Removal Machine’ will make you “boogie ‘til you blow chunks”.

The mind boggles.

[20=] Terence Trent D’Arby, ‘Wishing Well’

“A wishing well, a crock of dog shit”. Not like Terence to put his ego to one side and deliver a frank broadside against his own song. Disappointingly, the official line is “of crocodile cheer”, so it wasn’t like him at all. I thought he was pretty damn great at this point, and his disastrously received second album was even greater, but I know I’m in the minority.

Junior starts off fairly perky about ‘Wishing Well’ but, in a devastating parallel to TTD’s commercial success, this young fan soon loses interest. She’s itchy long before the end, craning her neck to see herself in the mirror. Maybe this is in tribute to the beleaguered singer.

Star fact:  this song reminds me of dancing with the girl who went on to be Lovejoy’s daughter in the BBC show. Such brushes with fame make the man.