He’s talking gibberish, surely: the slow-burn beginning is fantastic, true, but the whole ruddy song – with its balmy organ waltz and irrepressible feel-good factor – is the sound of Talking Heads at their most wonderfully accessible. Nirvana became one of the biggest bands on the planet in the 90s, but Kurt Cobain was already proving himself as a master craftsmen before that. “Here I go!” she shouts, unable to control herself, and you’re whipped up with lust alongside her. The track that sent ‘Thriller’ interstellar casts Jacko as an unlikely daddy in the dock – far-fetched, but apparently based on a real accusation from a crazed fan. ‘Blue Monday’ – the best selling 12″ of all time – was New Order’s peak; a stunning explosion of drum machine beats, infectious hooks and Sumner’s deadpan vocals. For most bands, this song would be amongst the weirdest in their arsenal; it’s testament to The Fall’s bizarre brilliance that it’s one of their most straightforward. Released as a standalone single following their gargantuan 1989 debut, ‘Fool’s Gold’ saw Ian Brown serve up some mystic baloney while the rest of the band did the heavy lifting – Mani leading the tune, John Squire going all Sly and the Family Stone with his wah-wah licks, and Reni giving a ‘Funky Drummer’ masterclass that rendered all other baggy redundant. Alongside Depeche Mode, OMD helped fly the flag for forward-looking British electro pop in the 80s. It eerily prefigured the future. The switch works, as does the mesh of guitars, ringing and scratching, manic as Francis’s delivery. Still, we all know it’s just a chance to air those patented hiccups, brutally stark beats and an immortal bassline from Louis Johnson. AC/DC’s first album after the death of original singer Bon Scott proved none of that fire had gone out, and the title track was the purest example. Named after the American plane that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, ‘Enola Gay’ married Andy McClusky’s brilliantly quizzical vocal and placed OMD’s unstoppable mesh of synths and programmed beats front and centre to create a pop classic. It’s a Byrdsian jangle with that essential Madchester swagger and bite from Ian Brown’s lyric, later better known for devolving into cries of “Amateurs!” as The Late Show‘s power blew. Hooky’s bass was delicate and pounding and Bernard Sumner’s vocal line was deceptively boyish. Extraordinarily, ‘Push It’ started out as a B-side to ‘Tramp’, relegated by a grind around an Otis Redding sample. Its air of mystery slotted handily into the film, but Ian McCulloch knew he had a belter on his hands from the moment he woke up one morning with the chorus already in his head. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ChjLMbXVrU. It wasn’t just a key song in the C86 tape movement, it was a key moment in Primal Scream’s career. Appropriately enough, the song was anchored by some bright ska rhythms, Suggs’ nervy vocal style and a general sense of mischievousness which pervaded everything. The first taster from their ‘Reading, Writing And Arithmetic’ LP is a lovely breeze of jangling indie-pop reminiscent of Johnny Marr’s work with The Smiths, but singer Harriet Wheeler’s remarkable set of pipes – with her ethereal, wistful whisper – ensured they had a sound entirely of their own. 100 Best Films of the 80s by may_ouest | created - 26 Jan 2011 | updated - 26 Jan 2011 | Public Based partly on IMDB ratings and partly on amounts of awards especially Academy Awards and Golden Globes. Despite the sweet ‘n’ sugary melody and big, glacial chunks of shimmering guitar, there’s a dark underbelly – the disturbing Lolita-like tale of the romantic frisson between a 5-year-old girl and her would-be suitor, who just so happens to be a 50-year-old bloke. Naturally, the song that broke sampling into the UK mainstream was a collaboration between two obscure 4AD bands and a couple of DJs. Stephen Morris’s pattering drums rouse ‘Atmosphere’ from troubled slumber, while Bernard Sumner’s glittering, chiming keyboards give it a bright beauty. All the more kudos to hip-hop pioneer Melle Mel, then, who used the catchiest of R&B grooves and street-smart rhymes to make the whole Just Say No message sound a lot more exciting than it had any right to be. Knitting together so many disconnected sounds could have sounded haphazard and slapdash; instead, it’s impressively seamless and skilful.