The 500 - #129 - Remain In Light - Talking Heads

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

---

Album: #129
Album Title: Remain In Light
Artist: Talking Heads
Genre: New Wave, Art Rock, Funk Rock, Post Punk, World Beat
Recorded: Compass Point, Nassau, Bahamas, Sigma Sound, New York City, USA
Released: October, 1980
My age at release: 15
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #39, rising 90 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Once In A Lifetime

Back in Grade 11, I made one of the smartest moves of my high school career, signing up for a course called History Through the Arts. It was taught by an educator who would become one of my favourites, Mr. Richard Woods. He was a teacher who brought passion, humour and creativity to every lesson, using a carousel-style slide projector to display photographs on the classroom screen as he shared stories about each one. 

Ai created image of Mr. Woods teaching our class in 1981.

His class was like a time machine, guiding students through prehistoric cave paintings all the way to the splendor of the Renaissance. And thanks to Mr. Woods, I can still tell a Doric column from an Ionic or Corinthian one, in case you're looking for a ringer on your pub trivia team. Here's a handy mnemonic. (D)oric - (d)ull and plain, (I)onic - (i)ntricate and scrolly, (C)orinthian - (c)omplex and leafy.

A few weeks into the course, Mr. Woods let us know that we could sign up for a trip to Italy during March Break, with him as our chaperone and tour guide. We would depart from London, Ontario on the last day of school, fly to Italy -- by way of Belgrade, Yugoslavia -- and then spend  eight nights visiting Rome, Florence, Pompeii and Capri, before heading back home. Flights, accommodations, buses and meals were included for a paltry $1,100. My parents were willing to split the cost with me –  my part time job as a custodian at a local recreation centre making my share challenging but achievable.

Byron Optimist Centre, London, Ontario.

The trip was a whirlwind. Mr. Woods, seasoned from shepherding other classes through this adventure, crafted an itinerary that struck the perfect balance. There was enough structure to hit the must-see art, historical and architectural masterpieces, but plenty of breathing room for my cohort of teenagers to wander and feel the essence of Italy.

Ai image of 80s teens looking across Vatican City.

Day three started way too early. We stumbled into the hotel lobby at dawn, bleary-eyed and clutching whatever caffeine we could find, ready to board a bus for Florence -- a three-hour journey northwest from Rome. The first stretch was quiet, just the sound of yawns and the occasional sigh of regret for staying up too late, and consuming wine (a legal option for us).

Someone unearthed a cassette tape and slotted it into the bus stereo. Just one tape. I still have no idea who brought it or why, but it was Remain In Light by Talking Heads. And so, for the next two hours, we listened to the world beat, afro-funk, new wave of David Byrne and company...on repeat. Nobody complained. Nobody switched it off. I suppose, we all just silently accepted that this remarkable record would be forever linked in our memories as the trip of a lifetime. 

The highway trip from Rome to Florence.

Remain in Light was the fourth studio album by New York art-rock pioneers Talking Heads. Teaming up with producer Brian Eno, the band drew heavy inspiration from Nigerian afrobeat legend Fela Kuti, layering polyrhythms, looping grooves, and electronic textures to create something groundbreaking. Lead singer David Byrne famously broke through a bout of writer’s block by embracing a stream-of-consciousness approach to lyrics. He also pulled ideas from the hip hop scene around him in New York and African political literature. The result? A record that didn’t just set a new standard for recording, it sounded like nothing else on Earth.

Talking Heads in 1980 (l-r) David Byrne, Chris Frantz,
Tina Weymouth, Jerry Harrison.

Although I was a 16-year-old hard rock devotee when I first heard the album...on repeat...half a dozen times...I knew instantly it was something different and important. From the hip-hop-inspired grooves of Crosseyed and Painless to the sing-along magic (and existential malaise) of Once in a Lifetime, Remain in Light demanded my attention.

Album jacket for Once In A Lifetime single release.

Despite spending more than a week in Italy, I came home with only one photograph. I hadn’t brought a camera, but a trip-mate snapped a shot for me of the bronze statue of Perseus with the Head of Medusa by Benvenuto Cellini. The masterpiece stands proudly in the Loggia dei Lanzi in Florence. While it is the only personal picture I have of an incredible teen-age experience, my recollections are vivid, linked as they are to the soundtrack of the Talking Heads. Like Perseus defeating a mythical gorgon, the New York art quartet were at the peak of their powers.

The only shot I can find from my trip.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Woods. As an educator myself, I now understand the commitment you made to make your lessons so engaging...not to mention, giving up your March Break to spend it with a bunch of, sometimes drunk, teenagers.

The 500 - #155 - Self Titled (Debut) - The Pretenders

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #155
Album Title: Self-Titled (Debut)

Artist: The Pretenders

Genre: New Wave, Rock, Punk Rock

Recorded: Wessex & Air Studios, London, England

Released: January, 1980

My age at release: 14
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #152, rising 3 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Precious

In the mid-70s, as I was beginning to chart the course of my musical identity, the female voices that dominated my radio speakers were smooth, melodic, and bathed in a soft-focus glow. Olivia Newton-John sang with a breezy sweetness, and Anne Murray’s voice on Snowbird was maple-syrup smooth. Toni Tennille had a rich, theatrical warmth, while ABBA’s Agnetha and Frida's shimmering harmonies glittered like a disco ball. They were also beautiful, so I didn’t just enjoy their singing, I also felt the tug of prepubescent crushes wrapped in every catchy melody.

Olivia Newton-John, one of my adolescent crushes.

However, as the ‘70s became the ‘80s and my teen-age years arrived, something shifted. Deborah Harry of Blondie exploded on the scene with the hit single Heart of Glass from the record Parallel Lines (#140 on The 500). In 1979, it was Pat Benatar's debut single, Heartbreaker, and her voice was a revelation -- a classically trained mezzo-soprano with the firepower of a rock goddess. Her debut album In the Heat of the Night introduced a vocal style that was both technically precise and emotionally raw. She could soar with operatic clarity one moment and snarl with gritty defiance the next. In both cases, another teen-age crush was formed.

Pat Benatar's debut record, In The Heat Of The Night.

Then, in 1980, the first album from The Pretenders, a British band featuring American singer Chrissie Hynde hit the airwaves. I was immediately taken by the first single I heard on Detroit radio, Brass In Pocket. It was a blend of rock, pop and soul but was also part of the new wave sound that had been crossing over to mainstream audiences in recent years.

When Ms. Harry, Ms. Benatar and Ms. Hynde hit the scene, they didn't just sing -- they commanded attention. They brought grit, attitude and a sense of ownership to their music; their image felt radical. These women weren’t just fronting bands, they were leading them -- writing the songs, shaping the sound, and refusing to be boxed in by industry expectations. They weren’t just eye candy, they were a force. Listening to The Pretenders’ debut album, I remember feeling that shift viscerally. It wasn’t simply a new sound; it was a new stance. Chrissie Hynde didn’t ask for permission to be there. She just was. And that presence -- cool, tough, unapologetically female -- redefined what a woman in rock could be.

The Pretenders, (l-r) James Honeyman-Scott (guitar), Chrissie Hynde (guitar, vocals),

Pete Farndon (bass), and Martin Chambers (drums).

Of course, looking back now, I recognize that this shift I felt so viscerally wasn’t new. It was just new to me. There had already been powerful, ground-breaking women challenging the norms of the music industry long before these ‘70s rockers hit the stage. Artists like Janis Joplin, with her raw, soul-baring vocals, and Patti Smith, who fused poetry with punk and refused to be categorized, were already tearing down walls in the late '60s and early '70s. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane brought a fierce, psychedelic edge to rock. Joni Mitchell and Carole King redefined what it meant to be a singer-songwriter, writing deeply personal, complex music that stood on its own artistic merit. Tina Turner, even before her solo resurgence, was a powerhouse performer who brought fire and grit to every stage she stepped on. Collectively, those women, only a few of many I could mention, have nine records on The 500.

Canadian treasure Joni Mitchell, whose album Blue is at #30 on The 500.

The Pretenders were formed in Herefordshire, England, in 1978. Hynde grew up in Akron, Ohio, and was raised on rock and roll radio from the ‘50s and ‘60s. However, she longed for more than a small town in the American midwest could offer. She moved to London in 1973, and became enmeshed in the burgeoning punk scene. She worked as a music journalist with the New Musical Express (NME) Magazine and spent time at Malcom McLaren and Vivien Westwood's fetish boutique SEX.

Westwood and McLaren outside the SEX boutique.

While in London Hynde became entrenched in the "scene" and played guitar for a number of failed bands while being romantically linked to Sex Pistol's members Steve Jones and Sid Vicious, as well as Ray Davies of The Kinks. She nearly joined several bands, including The Damned and The Slits, and even had a failed project with Mick Jones of The Clash. She once joked that she "tried to get a band together for three years and was fired from every one".

Hynde in London, 1977, before The Pretenders.

Eventually, the stars aligned and she connected with the line-up that  became The Pretenders and they began playing locally, while working on songs that were destined to become their debut release.

The Pretenders, performing live.

The group has persisted for nearly 50 years and released 12 studio records, including their most recent, Relentless, in 2013. Hynde has been the only consistent member, although drummer Chambers was only absent between 1986 and 1994. The other original members, Honeyman-Scott and Farndon died in 1982 and 1983 respectively. Both deaths were the result of drug use. Honeyman-Scott suffered heart failure, brought on by cocaine use at age 25. Farndon died at 30, a year later, drowning in a bathtub after a heroin overdose.

Honeyman-Scott gravestone. 

The Pretenders were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2005. Hynde and Chambers continue to perform, with Chrissie not only maintaining her legacy as a rock icon but also as a passionate advocate for animal rights. A committed vegetarian, she was arrested in New York during a protest against the use of Indian leather in Gap products -- a campaign that ultimately led the retailer to halt leather sourcing from India.

This marked a significant victory for behind the shiny consumer façade, many Indian leather supply chains are rooted in exploitative practices. Marginalized workers face inhumane conditions and toxic exposure, while animals endure brutal treatment before slaughter. Hynde’s activism helped draw attention to these unacceptable practises -- and proved that persistent and principled protests can spark real change.

Choosing a track for this week’s addition to The 500 Playlist wasn’t easy. The Pretenders’ debut album is, as a friend recently put it, "a perfect record" and "one I would take with me if I could take only five albums to a deserted island". Another said, this is "on my shortlist for one of my all-time favorite albums. Listened to this one many hundreds of times, and never get sick of it. Perfection."

From their shimmering cover of The Kinks’ Stop Your Sobbing to the surf-rock, sci-fi swagger of Space Invader, to Brass in Pocket (the track that first pulled me into their orbit)-- it’s wall-to-wall contenders. In the end, I landed on Precious, the searing opener with its jagged guitars and Chrissie Hynde’s snarling, no-apologies delivery. It captures everything I love about her style: confrontational, cool, and charged with a magnetism that’s equal parts danger and allure.

The 500 - #157 - Closer - Joy Division

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #157
Album Title: Closer

Artist: Joy Division

Genre: Post Punk, New Wave, Gothic Rock

Recorded: Britannia Row Studios, Islington, England

Released: July, 1980

My age at release: 15
How familiar was I with it before this week: A little

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #309, dropping 157 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Isolation

It’s easy to forget just how emotionally intense the teen-age years can be. Even after three decades teaching middle schoolers, I can still be caught off guard by young people’s unpredictable mood swings, impulsive decisions, and the waves of angst or apathy that seem to crash over them without warning. Sometimes, it takes a few deep breaths -- or even a good night’s sleep -- to move past the frustration and extend grace to these kids, who are often at the mercy of their hormonal tempests. On days like that, I find solace in music. A record like Closer, the haunting final album from Manchester’s Joy Division, helped me reconnect with the raw emotions that once defined my own adolescence. It reminds me where they’re coming from -- and, in a way, where I came from too.

My teen-age years were steeped in darkness and worry. I cycled through identities like sweaters -- trying each one on, hoping it would fit without itching. Most didn’t. I’d walk the school halls with my ears cloaked by headphones, the music louder than the world around me. Some days, I was defiant in class. I would challenge ideas, naively confident that I’d brilliantly uncovered some truth my English teacher had overlooked -- despite his degrees and decades teaching the same four novels. Other days, I'd sit in silence, brooding and distant, quietly hoping the pretty girl across the room would find something poetic in my storm-cloud demeanor.

Teen-age sleep patterns, we now recognize, are plagued by nightly battles between biology and responsibility, brains hardwired for nocturnal adventures, doomed to morning misery. My interests in literature, humour and media soon became as dark as the bags under my eyes. Nothing was off limits and my fascinations moved from dark, dystopian science fiction to vulgar comedy. One night, I might be rewatching a screening of A Clockwork Orange, The Shining or Eraserhead at our local repertoire cinema and the next I would be riding the bus reading off-colour jokes and biting satire in a National Lampoon magazine.

Despite my penchant for the macabre and the absurd, I was never teetering on the edge of delinquency or genuine darkness -- I had a firm grasp of right and wrong. My fascination with dystopian nightmares, crude humor, and provocative ideas wasn’t a sign of some deep disturbance; it was a performance, a way to carve out an identity that felt sharp, witty, and just rebellious enough to be intriguing. The paperback Truly Tasteless Jokes was also in my arsenal. It was a collection of disturbingly dark jokes designed to provoke laughter, discomfort, or admiration -- sometimes all at once. Because, in the strange social economy of teen-age boys, the ability to shock was its own form of currency, a way to seem cooler, sharper, a little more mysterious than it really was. It wasn’t about corruption; it was about style.

Joy Division were also exploring existential themes at about the same time I was discovering National Lampoon magazines, George Carlin, Redd Foxx and Richard Pryor records, and The Tasteless Jokes Book. The band's members were about ten years older than me and their group emerged from the punk scene in the late 1970s. They formed in Salford, England -- part of the Greater Manchester region -- and, after a few line-up changes, comprised Ian Curtis (vocals), Bernard Sumner (guitar), Peter Hook (bass), and Stephen Morris (drums).

Joy Division (l-r) Morris, Curtis, Sumner, Hook.

Originally, they called themselves Warsaw, a tribute to one of their heroes, David Bowie, and his haunting instrumental song Warszawa from the 1977 record Low (#251 on The 500). However, they changed their name to avoid confusion with a London punk band called The Warsaw Pact. Rather than reverting to their original name, Stiff Kittens, they opted for Joy Division -- a name that, despite sounding upbeat, carried a far darker symbolism. "Joy Division" refers to a inhuman period of World War II history -- the name assigned to groups of women in Nazi concentration camps who were forced into sexual slavery. They were subjected to horrific conditions and brutal exploitation, serving Nazi officers and soldiers at the death camps.

Adult female prisoners were separated from men and sorted
into workforces at Auschwitz camp. Picture from a Daily Mail
article The Auschwitz Brothel.

The band chose their name as a provocative recognition of its atrocious origins. However, their decision to feature a sketch of a Hitler Youth on the cover of their first EP, An Ideal For Living, fueled the controversy, with allegations that the members were Nazi sympathizers.

At that time, Joy Division's music began to change. Their early sound was raw and aggressive, but they evolved into something darker and more atmospheric. Their macabre, gothic sonic aesthetic was shaped by post-punk minimalism and stark production quality. Furthermore, singer Curtis' lyrics became deeply introspective and explored themes of isolation, despair and existential dread.

In part, this was the influence of the books he was reading, which included works from Franz Kafka, Fyodor Dostoevsky and J.G. Ballard. However, Curtis was also struggling with depression and late onset epilepsy -- both exacerbated by his drug and alcohol use. In 1978, Curtis began to experience frequent seizures, which sometimes occurred on stage. The medication he took to manage his affliction had intense side effects, contributing to his struggles with depression and emotional detachment.

Curtis, performing with Joy Division in Rotterdam (1979).

Joy Division's intense touring schedule in late 1979 and early 1980 to support their first album, Unknown Pleasures, was additionally detrimental to Curtis' physical and mental health. Moreover, his marriage to Deborah Woodruff was heading to divorce just a few months after the birth of their daughter, Natalie, in April, 1979. In the early morning hours of May 18, 1980, Curtis took his own life. He was 23.

The group's final record, Closer, was released two months after Curtis' death. It is widely regarded as a post-punk masterpiece and feels like an unsettling farewell from the band's singer and lyricist. His words feel claustrophobic and painfully introspective, with the songs The Eternal and Decades sounding almost funereal, while Isolation and Heart and Soul seem to pulse with a cold, detached energy.

The opening track, Atrocity Exhibition, was based on a book by the same name from English satirist and writer J.G. Ballard. The 1970 novel is a collection of experimental stories that explore themes of violence, media manipulation, and psychological breakdown. Ballard is best known for his novel Crash (1973) about a group of car crash fetishists who are sexually aroused by reenacting famous celebrity vehicular accidents, including those of Jayne Mansfield and James Dean. Crash was made into an Oscar-winning film in 2004 featuring an ensemble cast of Hollywood A Listers -- directed by London, Ontario, native Paul Haggis.

Movie poster for Crash (2004).

Though I was drawn to the macabre and the unsettling in high school, I wasn’t truly immersed in the material.-- I was playing a part, experimenting with identity and testing the boundaries of what seemed dark and clever. Had I paid attention, I probably would have connected deeply with Joy Division’s lyrics, but back then it wasn’t about sincerity -- it was about performance. Ian Curtis, however, wasn’t performing. His struggles were real, woven into every word he sang.

Lyrics from Love Will Tear Us Apart, a non-album single
released in June, 1980 one month after Curtis' suicide.

As a middle-school educator, I need to remind myself that students need more patience and grace, even when they are frustrating me with their choices. Some angsty teens may be slipping into a costume and trying out intense brooding  as a personality. However, Curtis' story reminds me that some may truly be struggling and  patience is required to look beyond the surface and  recognize when the shift into darkness is more than a passing phase or an effort to fit in.

The 500 - #206 - Dirty Mind - Prince

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #206
Album Title: Dirty Mind
Artist: Prince

Genre: Funk, Post Disco, Pop, Rock, R&B
Recorded: Prince's Basement Studio near Lake Minnetonka, Minnesota, U.S.A.

Released: October, 1980
My age at release: 15
How familiar was I with it before this week: One song

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #326, dropping 120 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: When You Were Mine

Every so often while perusing social media I will see a post bemoaning the state of modern music. These digital missives, typically generated by people of my vintage (Generation X) will state boldly that "there is no good music these days".

a

An example of a social media meme bemoaning the state of popular
music today.

Worse still, they will critique a current pop star as banal or formulaic by making a comparison to a legendary performer from their youth. Current chart toppers, including Post Malone, Billie Eilish, Drake, and The Weeknd, seem to be the target of much of this animus. However, it is mega-star Taylor Swift who seems to bear the brunt of the vitriol, often from people who can't name three of her songs or recognize her talent, let alone her well documented history of generosity, philanthropy and kindness

A common complaint is that she only writes songs about her break-ups. Given that she has been in the public eye for more than 15 years and many of her former beaus are celebrities, their stories easily become the stuff of tabloid fodder. And sure, she has written some songs about heartache and loss, but aren’t writers always told to write about what they know?

The same angry 50-somethings who lambaste Swift simultaneously glorify bands from their generation who committed the same "offence". To name a few, nearly every track on Led Zeppelin's debut record (#29 on The 500) is about losing love -- Good Times, Bad Times, Babe I'm Going to Leave You, You Shook Me, Dazed and Confused, Communication Breakdown, and I Can't Quit You Baby.

Perhaps more of these memes should be posted by Gen X 
social media users.

In my role as a middle school teacher, my students tipped me to Swift's talent many years ago. In 2011, a Grade 8 girl named Lexi played the song Mean for our class as part of her presentation on metaphoric language and I was duly impressed -- by both the presentation and the song. The central tenet of Mean encourages proudly and bravely navigating a world rife with critics and bullies. Since 2010, I have used it annually as part of my Health unit and our school's anti-bullying campaign. It's terrifically catchy and continues to be a hit with adolescents with each passing year. It also uses similes, metaphors and idioms that are perfect for young minds to process and understand.

In a round-about way, the comparisons bring me to Dirty Mind, the third studio release from Minnesota-born superstar Prince. Hitting shelves in 1980, the album features a fusion of genres, including new wave, rock, disco, funk and R&B. It also contains sexually explicit lyrical themes, highlighting Prince's fascination with open relationships, lust, romance and gender-bending androgyny. Fans of Prince will easily recognize how this record laid the groundwork for the music on his follow-up releases throughout the 1980s, notably three that are on The 500 list -- 1999 (at #163), Purple Rain (#76), and Sign O' The Times (#93).

Prince in 1980.

Over the years, I became a Prince fan. However, in my youth, much like the Gen Xers who angrily rage-post about Taylor Swift, I made judgments about him without truly appreciating his talent and genius. I did not hear the Dirty Mind record in 1980 and, until discovering it on The 500 list, had never listened to it. I was surprised to recognize When You Were Mine, which I knew as a Cyndi Lauper song, appearing on her 1983 album She's So Unusual (#487).

Certainly, I would not have liked this Prince record when it was released four decades ago. In my youngish years, I was stuck in my ways. Since then, my understanding of life's rich tapestry and appreciation of music in its many varied forms has grown exponentially. Looking back, I suspect there was a little homophobia wrapped into my disdain for an artist like Prince. His comfort with his sexuality and his freedom to embrace his feminine side was not something 15-year-old me was ready to accept. Ironically, Prince  became a legendary lady-killer who dated beautiful celebrities, many of whom my friends and I held a torch for – Kim Basinger, Madonna, Sheila E., Carmen Electra, Vanity and Sherilyn Fenn.

Prince with some of his romantic partners in the 80s.

Much like Taylor Swift, these liaisons became material for his lyrics and music. However, unlike Swift, he is not criticized for his reputation as a Lothario nor his penchant for lyrical inspiration following these romantic trysts. I suspect that is a commentary on  society's penchant for misogyny. The truism remains that a man who has many partners is considered virile and called a stud. By contrast, a woman who plays the field is regarded as "fallen" and worse – saddled with horrible labels including whore, slut, harlot and tramp. It is among the many double-standards women, including Swift, must learn to navigate.

Forty-three years after its release, I listened to Dirty Mind with a more mature perspective on the world. The sound is a bit dated and the sexual themes excessive. However, that is a product of my age as this isn't a record written for a man nearing 60. Prince was writing pop music and it was meant for young people at a given time. So, too, is the music of Taylor Swift in the 2010s. Angry Gen Xers fail to understand they don't have to like it. Her music isn't being written for them. So get over it, stop posting angry memes and put on another Zeppelin record.