Pretty In Pink @ 40: Ten Things You Didn’t Know About The John Hughes Classic

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Probably John Hughes’s most fondly-remembered teen-rom-com and a defining movie of the 1980s, ‘Pretty In Pink’ was released worldwide on 28 February 1986 and quickly made a sweet $40 million from a $9 million budget.

A timeless tale about a young woman from (literally) the wrong side of the tracks falling for a ‘richie’, it’s endlessly rewatchable and arguably the best-written of Hughes’ movies, even it lacks the visual pizzazz of his directorial work.

Its memorable characters and touching themes reverberate through the years – this is the one that put Molly Ringwald on the cover of ‘Time’ magazine, even if its plot is very similar to ‘Sixteen Candles’. It also features an excellent theme song by the Psychedelic Furs and engagingly off-beat performances.

But what were the what-ifs, weird studio notes and strange/risky decisions that accompanied the making of ‘Pretty In Pink’?

10. It was Howard Deutch’s directorial debut
But he had made his name cutting trailers for Woody Allen, Warren Beatty, Sydney Pollack and Francis Coppola movies, as well as Hughes’ ‘Sixteen Candles’ and ‘The Breakfast Club’. He also directed videos for Stewart Copeland (‘Don’t Box Me In’) and Billys Idol and Joel. He was headhunted by Hughes and mentored throughout. He went on to direct ‘Some Kind Of Wonderful’ from another Hughes script.

9. Molly Ringwald almost didn’t play Andie Walsh
Though Hughes wrote the part with Ringwald in mind (and she had suggested to him both the theme song and title), Paramount wanted Jennifer Beals after she had fronted the enormously successful ‘Flashdance’. Tatum O’Neil and Jodie Foster were reportedly also considered. Hughes fought hard for Ringwald, though she almost turned it down because he wasn’t directing it. As it turned out, she almost played herself in the movie – her mother even features in the photograph which makes her cry.

8. Andrew McCarthy only read the completed script whilst on the plane to start shooting
He auditioned with Ringwald with excerpts of the script. She got him the part – neither Deutch nor Hughes were sure, wondering if Charlie Sheen would be better. Later, when reading the whole thing on his flight to Los Angeles, he reportedly hated the script (there are also reports that Ringwald had an unrequited crush on McCarthy throughout the shoot).

7. McCarthy was 22 years old during filming – playing a 17-year-old – and was having major problems with alcohol
He has admitted being wretchedly hungover during the first record store meeting with Molly Ringwald’s character. In this podcast, McCarthy even goes as far as to say that alcohol ruined his acting career in the late ‘80s.

6. The part of Phil ‘Duckie’ Dale was written for Anthony Michael Hall
But the ‘Breakfast Club’, ‘Sixteen Candles’ and ‘Weird Science’ star turned it down, saying that the plot of the movie was too close to ‘Sixteen Candles’. Robert Downey Jr. and Michael J Fox were also close to getting the part. Jon Cryer got the gig – interestingly he had also recently replaced Matthew Broderick in stage productions of both ‘Brighton Beach Memoirs’ and ‘Torch Song Trilogy’.

5. James Spader was 25 years old during filming – playing a 17-year-old
A very experienced performer before shooting ‘Pretty In Pink’, Spader apparently amazed Hughes and Deutch at his audition with an incredibly obnoxious performance, oozing attitude and stubbing out his cigarette with his foot as he left the room.

4. Duckie’s famous ‘Try A Little Tenderness’ lip-sync nearly didn’t happen
Hughes had written the scene into the script but hadn’t stipulated which track to use. Firstly, Cryer wanted to lip-sync to Michael Jackson/Mick Jagger’s ‘State Of Shock’, but the song was too expensive. The Otis Redding tune was Deutch’s idea. Kenny Ortega choreographed the scene with Cryer.

3. ‘Pretty In Pink’ was the last collaboration between Molly Ringwald and John Hughes
Sadly it seems Hughes never quite forgave Ringwald for refusing to appear in ‘Some Kind Of Wonderful’…and they seldom spoke again before Hughes’ death in 2009.

2. The ending was reshot months after the original wrap – check out Andrew McCarthy’s wig…
The ending was originally supposed to feature Duckie and Andie dancing ecstatically at the prom to Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ in an ‘us against the world’ kind of way, and sticking it to the richies – let’s face it, that sounds fantastic. But a preview audience hated this ending, as did Ringwald. A rethink/reshoot was ordered. Hughes racked his brain for months, trying to work out how Andie could get together with Blaine at the prom. Finally he worked it out – Blaine arrives alone, just like Andie and Duckie. So Ringwald, Cryer and McCarthy were summoned for a one-day reshoot. Only problem was McCarthy was appearing on Broadway in ‘Boys Of Winter’ opposite Matt Dillon and Wesley Snipes and had had his head shaved for the part. So a really terrible wig was found for him. But the now-famous, reshot ending speaks volumes about Hughes’s quality as a screenwriter – both endings would have worked great. OMD’s ‘If You Leave’ was also summoned to soundtrack the finale in just three days, including writing/mixing/recording…

1. Fee Waybill of The Tubes presented the premiere on MTV…
It took place at Mann’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood on 28 January 1986, also attended by Hughes, a very drunk Spader and McCarthy (check out the footage), Cryer, Jon Anderson, Dweezil Zappa, Michael J Fox, Andy Summers, New Order, OMD, George Michael and the Psychedelic Furs.

Further reading: the excellent ‘You Couldn’t Ignore Me If You Tried’ by Susannah Gora

Book Review: Rethinking Miles Davis (Fagge/Pillai/Wall eds.)

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In the blizzard of books, articles and tribute albums released to celebrate Miles Davis’s recent centennial, here’s one of the more interesting – though extremely flawed – items.

‘Rethinking Miles Davis’ is a new academic work from Oxford University Press which looks to reassess Miles’s legacy, character and, particularly, his 1980s music.

The tone is set by Tony Whyton’s first chapter entitled ‘Miles Behind’, which starts with a disclaimer: ‘The following chapter focuses on the work of a misogynist and serial abuser of women. Any pleasure derived from the study of Miles Davis should be considered in direct relation to these acts.’

Whyton moves on to claim that, especially in light of the #MeToo movement, we need to ‘think about Miles differently’ and move towards a new kind of jazz appreciation in general.

Essentially it asks us to strip away Miles’s ‘romantic’ myth (the Prince of Darkness, the baddest mother****er, etc.) and focus on reality, informed by other articles about Miles’s battery of women, from Pearl Cleave to Eric Nisenson and Miles’s autobiography itself.

In essence, Whyton is asking oft-considered question of whether we can/should separate a great artist from their deeds – Miles, Picasso, Michael Jackson, Eric Gill or Dali . The short answer may be ‘yes’, but Whyton attempts to persuade that this is a false position.

(Maybe a more interesting question is whether our propensity to ‘forgive’ an artist their deeds is dependent on one’s ‘hierarchy’ of their supposed evils – it’s interesting to survey the above list again…).

It’s a noble pursuit, but seems in vain – this writer is pretty sure lovers of Miles’s work can quite easily separate his musical nous from his sometimes highly questionable actions*.

But there’s much better stuff in ‘Rethinking Miles’. Nicolas Pillai looks at Miles’s appearances on TV and in videos, and the various references to his work which appear in movies. There’s very interesting, original information regarding his ‘Miami Vice’ guest appearance and collaboration with Spike Lee on the ‘Tutu Medley’ video.

Some errors suggest shoddy proofreading and/or research though – he mistakenly credits Mike Gibbs with directing ‘The Miles Davis Story’. It was Mike Dibb. And he rather blithely describes Miles as ‘acting the pimp’ on the cover of You’re Under Arrest, apparently failing to consider Ian Carr’s assertion that he’s dressed in the attire of a ‘Spanish dancer’.

Another interesting section is Pedro Cravinho’s work on tracking Miles’s visits to Portugal over the years, and how that country’s press treated him during his tours.

Elsewhere Roger Fagge’s chapter investigating Miles’s posthumous Doo-Bop album and exploring jazz’s flirtations with hip-hop is engaging and well-researched, with some new insights into the project and an analysis of how Kendrick Lamarr, J Dilla and Robert Glasper bring jazz into their music.

But by far the best – and simplest – section of the book is William Ellis’s collection of Miles-referencing ‘One LP’ photos, featuring Marcus Miller, Terence Blanchard, Eddie Henderson, Mike Stern and others discussing the effect Miles’s music had on their lives and careers.

Elsewhere Tim Wall’s looks at Tutu‘s position in Miles’s discography, its relationship to the work of Prince and Madonna, and Miles’s decision to sign for Warner Bros.

There’s an unfortunate section looking at Tutu’s place in the pantheon of ‘smooth jazz’, spending far too much time on Warner Bros’ ‘fusion’ legacy, and there’s a rather poor exploration of Marcus Miller’s pre-Tutu session career, describing Donald Fagen as a ‘soft rock king’ and Dave Grusin as a ‘jazz instrumentalist’!

Wall also fails to locate another of Miller’s key influences in putting together Tutu: Herbie Hancock’s Speak Like A Child (which Hancock himself claims was influenced by Gil Evans! So everything comes full circle…).

There’s also only the briefest mention of Miller’s pre-Tutu solo albums, particularly 1983’s Suddenly, where he had already rehearsed a fusion of drum machine and real drums, and also worked at combining synth bass and bass guitar.

Wall also inexplicably compares Tutu to Byrne & Eno’s My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, Herbie Hancock’s Future Shock and Material’s Memory Serves, and rather over-eggs the album’s influences from Prince and Madonna (only one track on Tutu shows any kind of Prince influence – the closing ‘Full Nelson’).

It seems that most critics are unable to spot that Tutu is an extremely original piece of work, more reflecting Miller’s outstanding compositional abilities and Miles’s good instincts than anything else.

But Wall’s article does outline Tutu‘s mixed critical reaction, particularly from the jazz and (American) rock press, but fails to acknowledge the reception it received in the UK, where it was mainly greeted as a funk or even pop album.

The October 1986 edition of The Face magazine reviewed it alongside David Sylvian, Loose Ends and Human League, and also named Tutu as its seventh best album of 1986, alongside Prince, Anita Baker, Iggy Pop, The Smiths, Janet Jackson, Run DMC, Cameo and Talking Heads.

There are other strange omissions – co-producer Tommy LiPuma is mentioned only once (the author also has apparently/curiously never read Ben Sidran’s biography of the Tutu co-producer) and he also fails to acknowledge that it was LiPuma  – not Miller – who reportedly first played Scritti Politti’s ‘Perfect Way’ to Miles.

Wall also supplies a chapter trying to understand better Miles’s ‘shock’ signing for Warner Bros after almost 30 years on CBS, but fails to add much to Paul Tingen, Ian Carr and George Cole’s exemplary work on the matter. And again there are a few odd factual errors, including describing Elvis Costello as an ‘icon of American popular music’!

Will L Finch writes about Miles’s work on the ‘Dingo’ soundtrack alongside Michel Legrand, as well as his appearance in that film. But he misspells trumpeter Chuck Findley’s name, though does include some interesting work on Legrand and the musical antecedents for his soundtrack.

Finally, there’s also a chapter on Miles’s arrangers by Wall and musician/writer Bobbie-Jane Gardner, looking at his collaborations with Gil Evans, George Avakian, Miller and LiPuma.

So, while patchy and error-strewn, ‘Rethinking Miles Davis’ will be a vital addition to any fan’s library. The chapters on Portugal and Miles’s TV appearances certainly offer new material, and even the more humdrum sections will provide food for thought, if not a total ‘rethink’ of Miles’s career.

*But certainly it can be a (refreshing?) shock in our somewhat cossetted age to revisit even Miles’s most ‘media-friendly’ TV appearances, like ‘The Arsenio Hall Show’ or ’60 Minutes’. He seems brutally honest and totally unpolished compared to the relatively ‘coached’ personalities of today. But this writer’s suggestion to the general fan would be to ignore those pieces of footage completely. And while his Autobiography may signal general feelings about musicians, friends and events, it’s full of factual inaccuracies. In short, all of Miles’s public utterances should probably be taken with a huge pinch of salt.

Aces Of 1980s Brit Bass (Part 2)

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Kev Hopper

Some years ago, we showcased some of the British bass players who, mainly influenced by Bernard Edwards, Jaco Pastorius, Louis Johnson and Stanley Clarke, brought some of the freshest grooves to 1980s pop music.

It seemed that every half-decent post-punk, New Pop, New Romantic or Britfunk band had a good bassist, and the dancefloor was the main target.

But there was some great Brit bass players investigating other corners of music during the 1980s too – here are a few of them.

Martin McAloon
The Prefab Sprout man brought a meaty tone (often tuning down a half-step to accompany his brother Paddy’s guitar) and great hook-up with drummer Neil Conti. Deceptively simple bass parts which were little compositions in themselves. Key tracks: ‘Hey Manhattan!’, ‘When The Angels’, ‘When Love Breaks Down’, ‘Horsin’ Around’

Ged Grimes
The Danny Wilson man is the very definition of bass solidity, supplying endless well-composed parts especially in combination with drummer David Palmer (Grimes now plays with Simple Minds). Key tracks: ‘Mary’s Prayer’, ‘I Can’t Wait’, ‘I Was Wrong’, ‘Lorraine Parade’

Richard Nolan
The It Bites man had three distinct phases – there was the early poppy stuff, with a trebly WAL sound and light strings, the middle-period ‘rock’ sound, then the sophisticated six-string playing of the band’s late period. It was all good and others were listening – he was later recruited by Tony Banks and Ray Davies, with whom he works to this day. Key tracks: ‘Whole New World’, ‘Heartbreaker’, ‘Positively Animal’, ‘Midnight’, ‘Calling All The Heroes’

Steve Severin
The flanger/plectrum combo was invented for the Siouxsie & The Banshees man. Every track featured a good bassline or good idea. Key tracks: ‘Cascade’, ‘Monitor’, ‘Spellbound’.

Mo Foster
The London bass legend was a mainstay of the capital’s studios during the 1980s, playing with everyone from Cliff Richard to Scott Walker and contributing to many hits. He died in 2023. Key tracks: Jeff Beck’s ‘Space Boogie’, Dennis Waterman’s ‘I Could Be So Good For You’, Gary Moore’s ‘Empty Rooms’, Elkie Brooks’ ‘No More The Fool’, Howard Jones’ ‘No One Is To Blame’

Sting
In the early 1980s he came up with brilliant, memorable lines, often scrappily played, but returned for 1987’s …Nothing Like The Sun as a model of taste and groove. Key tracks: ‘Voices Inside My Head’, ‘Rehumanise Yourself’, ‘Secret Journey’, ‘Be Still My Beating Heart’, ‘Lazarus Heart’

Matthew Seligman
Cyprus-born Matthew played great bendy basslines with The Soft Boys, Thompson Twins and Thomas Dolby, and even ended up playing Live Aid with Bowie. He died in 2020. Key tracks: ‘Living In Europe’ by Thompson Twins, ‘Absolute Beginners’ by David Bowie, ‘Screen Kiss’ by Thomas Dolby, ‘Magic’s Wand’ by Whodini

John McKenzie
Son of actor Liz McKenzie (Mrs Brumby in ‘Get Carter’), the late London bassist played some fantastic stuff on the Morrissey Mullen album Life On The Wire, then worked extensively with Eurythmics. Pretenders, Five Star, Bob Dylan and Dexys Midnight Runners too. He died in 2020. Key tracks: ‘Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do)’

Alan Thomson
Another of the many great Scottish bassists of the decade, Glasgow-born Thomson excelled himself on the fretless during his valuable collaboration with John Martyn, and also played with Julia Fordham, Rick Wakeman, Robert Palmer and others. Key tracks: John Martyn’s ‘Blood Money’, ‘Couldn’t Love You More’, ‘Glorious Fool’, ‘Hiss On The Tape’, ‘John Wayne’, especially the BBC In Concert version…

Kev Hopper
Influenced by Brand X’s Percy Jones, Hopper only made a few full-length recordings with Stump during the decade but left his mark with fantastically bendy fretless sounds/effects and intrepid lines. Has gone on to make some enjoyably weird music to this day. Key tracks: ‘Tupperware Stripper’, ‘Our Fathers’, ‘Eager Bereaver’, ‘Buffalo’, and everything, really…

Camelle Hinds
Ipswich-born Hinds was a founder member of Britfunk band Central Line and often the go-to guy when you needed excellent slap bass in the 1980s. He played great stuff with Beggar & Co, The The, B.E.F., Style Council and Heaven 17. Key tracks: The Kane Gang’s ‘Looking For Gold’

Bobby Paterson
The late Glasgow-born Love And Money bassist added some of the funkiest grooves of the late 1980s on his Fender Precision and MusicMan. Key tracks: ‘Jocelyn Square’, ‘Strange Kind Of Love’, ‘Candybar Express’.

Ewen Vernal
His playing on the two Deacon Blue albums of the late 1980s featured excellent, nimble five-string playing with loads of memorable lines and he always made sure each note was given its full value. Key tracks: ‘Fergus Sings The Blues’, ‘Chocolate Girl’, ‘When Will You Make My Telephone Ring’.

Gary ‘Gazza’ Johnson
His tenure with China Crisis brought some memorable lines and grooves. He played fretless on their early hits and was an early adopter of the octave pedal for added depth/punch. Key tracks: ‘Working With Fire And Steel’, ‘The Highest High’, ‘Day After Day’, ‘Strength Of Character’, ‘Red Sails’, ‘King In A Catholic Style’

This playlist brings together some of their best work.

Wendy & Lisa: Fruit At The Bottom (1989) Revisited

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Despite massive record industry buzz, Wendy & Lisa’s 1987 debut album, rush-released after they were asked to leave Prince’s Revolution, failed to set the world on fire.

It was time for a rethink, and time to sell some albums. They were sober, sane and serious, and it seemed as if ‘pop’ stardom might be just around the corner if they could just combine some catchy songs with their exemplary musicianship.

But which way to go on the sophomore release? The first album hinted at a Bangles/Fleetwood Mac/Joni Mitchell direction. In the end they went pretty much Full Prince – with varying degrees of success, though once again Fruit At The Bottom demonstrated what a superb multi-instrumentalist Wendy Melvoin was blossoming into.

Released in March 1989, the album was also a chance for Wendy and Lisa to demonstrate just how influential they had been on Prince’s music. They dusted off the Linn LM-1 drum machine (‘Are You My Baby’ even starts with almost the same snare fill as ‘The Ballad Of Dorothy Parker’, via Weather Report’s ‘Teen Town’?) and Wendy got busy with some slap bass and funky, sometimes varispeed rhythm guitar.

Aided by trusted engineer (and Prince veteran) Susan Rogers, who recorded and mixed all the basic tracks at Avatar Studios in New York, lots more time was taken over the drum sounds and Wendy and twin sister Susannah’s (also a Prince veteran and his ex-fiancée) vocals.

The lyrics were far more sexual/sensual than before too, but let’s be blunt – it was very difficult for two highly photogenic gay artists wanting to prove themselves as musicians and not kowtow to a mostly male music industry wanting ever more salaciousness (see the ladies’ slightly uncomfortable interview on GMTV, when they seemed to have arrived from a different universe).

It was also quite a big responsibility for Wendy to suddenly become frontwoman in a touring band (they were very good at London’s Town & Country Club in May 1989, one of the coolest gigs of that year).

Listening to the album again recently, it’s clear that they frontloaded it with three great singles, and took a lot of time over these (Prince even had a bash at remixing ‘Lolly Lolly’). ‘Satisfaction’ even briefly gatecrashed the UK charts, peaking at #26.

But the rest of the album – with the exception of ‘I Think It Was December’ – sounds worryingly like a succession of B-sides, despite Lisa’s always interesting chord changes and synth textures. There’s far too much minimalist/mid-tempo filler with rather hippy/drippy lyrics: ‘Everyday’, ‘Someday I’, ‘Tears Of Joy’, ‘Always In My Dreams’.

It’s quite a shock to hear Wendy’s dirty guitars on ‘From Now On’ but the track doesn’t quite cut through and lacks a good chorus, despite the fine efforts of drummer Carla Azar.

What a shame they couldn’t fashion seven or eight tracks of killer dancefloor material, with one or two ballads. Despite a great review in Q magazine which compared the album to Stephen Sondheim and Bill Evans, FATB stalled at #47 in the UK and failed to chart in the US.

Still, Melody Maker’s Caroline Sullivan interviewed them at length and they appeared on ‘Rapido’ and ‘Top Of The Pops’. They also became quite the live draw in Europe with a great band including Azar, guitarist Chris Bruce and Susannah.

But it was their third album Eroica, released in summer 1990, that probably best showcased their formidable skills and wide influences. But by then the game was up in terms of mainstream success.

Rumours abound that there’s a 1992 album in the vaults somewhere produced by Trevor Horn, after they had worked successfully together with Seal and on the ‘Toys’ soundtrack. C’mon Universal Music, let’s hear it…

Sting: Bring On The Night @ 40

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Sting’s Bring On The Night, released 40 years ago this month, seldom makes it into the pantheon of ‘classic’ 1980s live albums (usually including Stop Making Sense, Alchemy, Under A Blood Red Sky, No Sleep Til Hammersmith, Exit…Stage Left).

But it probably should if you like brilliant playing, good singing and an interesting setlist, apparently with no post-production ‘sweetening’ too (even Rush admitted to some studio retakes after the event).

Former Police live mixer and occasional road manager Kim Turner spent most of 1985 recording Sting’s world tour (this writer was at a Royal Albert Hall gig of January 1986).

The result was probably his most underrated album, out of step with pretty much anything else released in 1986, the one that let his superb Dream Of The Blue Turtles band loose. Sting was obviously fond of it too, designing the cover and writing copious notes on each song which even allowed for a little self-criticism (‘Children’s Crusade’).

In a contemporary interview, he claimed that he shared all the album’s songwriting royalties with the band, so much did he value their contributions. With good reason: you could set your watch to Kenny Kirkland’s vamps and countermelodies. Sting worked very hard with backing vocalists Dolette McDonald and Janice Pendarvis (demonstrated on the tour doc directed by Michael Apted, of which more another time…) and their voices mesh beautifully.

Drummer Omar Hakim is at his absolutely peak with delicious, flowing fusion and funk playing, fresh from classic albums with Weather Report, John Scofield and Dire Straits. Bassist Darryl Jones gets on with his work fairly anonymously, but embellishes the back end of ‘Consider Me Gone’ with a few remarkable bebop lines.

Some Police material is improved. An atmospheric ‘Tea In The Sahara’ gets the tempo right, Kirkland resplendent in Herbie mode and Sting doing a decent Andy Summers impression. ‘Low Life’ grooves along tastily while The ‘One World’/’Love Is The Seventh Wave’ medley is brilliant, with its weird key changes and Sting’s Wes Montgomery-style guitar break.

He apparently always hated the chorus on the Police version of ‘Bring On The Night’ so it gets a makeover here with some major-seventh chords and nice, breezy R’n’B feel. Kirkland’s epic solo is one of the great piano statements of the 1980s.

The B-side ‘Another Day’ is effervescent and funky (in a different key to the studio version) despite some of Sting’s most depressing state-of-the-world lyrics ever.

But a lot of the softer stuff is underwhelming: ‘Moon Over Bourbon Street’ barely registers, while ‘I Burn For You’ comes sans Omar’s blowout from the doc. ‘Been Down So Long’ is a light-hearted, corny blues with ill-advised ‘sexy’ Sting vocals, despite another beautiful Hakim performance. ‘We Work The Black Seam’ adds little to the leaden studio version.

In general, the album maybe could have done with more up-tempo reggae, and it’s surprising the A&M bosses didn’t demand the inclusion of some bigger Police hits.

Many critics were quick to label the album as ‘fusion’, but if you listen to what Branford Marsalis is actually playing, his chief influences seem to be King Curtis and Grover Washington Jr. The Wayne Shorter/Coltrane licks only really come out on ‘Children’s Crusade’.

Upon its June 1986 release, Bring On The Night only hit #16 in the UK, didn’t chart in the USA (?) but 18 months later won a Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Performance, Male.

Meanwhile Sting was becoming the Sting we know today. He had presented Quincy Jones his Grammy for Record Of The Year (‘We Are The World’) in February 1986. In June, he duetted with Mark Knopfler at the Prince’s Trust Wembley gig and did the Artists Against Apartheid Clapham Common gig organised by Jerry Dammers. He then reformed The Police for the Conspiracy Of Hope Amnesty tour leading, of course, to the disastrous ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me ‘86’ single.

The next stop was the Bahamas to record …Nothing Like The Sun, another career high point and a return to the bass. He would never record with Omar Hakim or Darryl Jones again…

Tales Of The Unexpected: The Flypaper (1980)

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If you were a British kid of a certain age circa 1980, there was plenty of spooky material around on TV: ‘Hammer House Of Horror’, ‘Armchair Thriller’ and those Public Information films warning about stranger danger, fireworks and water.

And the occasional episode of ‘Tales Of The Unexpected’.

Based on Roald Dahl’s short-story book of the same name, it was an absolute British TV staple between 1979 and 1988 across 112 episodes of varying quality. These days it’s probably best remembered for Ron Grainer’s brilliant theme music and the dancing credits lady.

But it wasn’t especially known for truly disturbing episodes – until your correspondent came across ‘The Flypaper’ recently. Broadcast on 9 August 1980, it was based on Elizabeth Taylor’s short story of the same name (she died in 1975) and adapted rather well by Robin Chapman, who went on to write episodes of ‘Maigret’ and ‘Dalziel And Pascoe’.

It’s a tight, tense 22 minutes, shot entirely on location in Ely in Cambridgeshire – no dodgy studio stuff here.

A young girl has been found dead on the outskirts of a provincial English town. Shy, sensitive, withdrawn Silva (Lorna Yabsley, who went on to appear in 1981’s ‘Day Of The Triffids’) is particularly afraid, not helped by the fact that her parents (her mother in the short story) have died in a car crash two years ago and she’s now living with her somewhat cold grandmother.

Lorna Yabsley as Silva

Meanwhile a creepy man seems to be watching her, finally cornering her on a bus with intrusive, incessant, over-familiar chatter. You can imagine many children experienced similar in the 1960s, ‘70s and ‘80s.

We won’t give away the horrible, rather bold last three minutes, which very well epitomise ‘the banality of evil’.

Suffice it to say that it tapped into a hot-button topic in 1980, with the Yorkshire Ripper still at large and lots of parental advice about not talking to strangers (tragically, our heroine does NOT talk to the weird stranger in ‘The Flypaper’…).

Director Graham Evans does an excellent job, ramping up the atmosphere and cutting back the dialogue. There are disturbing echoes of ‘The Offence’ and ‘Don’t Look Now’.

Ron Grainer supplies a nicely sludgy synth soundtrack and there’s the (initially) amusing sight of actor Pat ‘Fawlty Towers’ Keen – she played Sybil and Basil’s pushy friend in ‘The Anniversary’, but is used to much more disarming effect here.

With all the endless current talk of how far we should go to protect our children, ‘The Flypaper’ provides a cold slap in the face. Here it is, sadly with rather dodgy picture quality, if you dare…

Book Review: Stay Alive (The Life And Death Of Stuart Adamson) by Scott Rowley

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Here’s another missive from the darker side of the music industry.

Author Scott Rowley has obtained the full cooperation of Stuart Adamson’s family, friends and bandmates to tell the gripping, sometimes troubling, sometimes sad, sometimes funny story of the Big Country frontman and Skids guitarist who took his own life in 2001 after struggles with alcoholism and depression.

A brave, unsettling opening takes us right into Adamson’s head just a few days before his death. From there it’s an unflinching look at his troubled life, and Rowley finds plenty in Adamson’s background pointing to mitigating circumstances (his father was jailed in 2004 for abusing children).

‘Stay Alive’ also takes an unusual approach with fairly detailed biographical detail about all the members of The Skids and Big Country. They are a huge part of this story – Richard Jobson and Tony Butler in particular deliver strikingly candid observations on Adamson, as do several family members.

This is also very much a Scottish tale, complete with unedited dialects and much fruity language, from Adamson’s childhood in Cowdenbeath (novelist Ian Rankin went to the same school) onwards.

Adamson makes an almost immediate musical impact during the punk era with The Skids. The Strangers’ JJ Burnel takes an interest as does John Peel, calling Adamson ‘Scotland’s answer to Jimi Hendrix’.

Virgin Records sign the band but indulge in various questionable business decisions; the book is extremely good on the machinations of the post-punk record industry (as is this ‘Play At Home’ documentary from 1984).

Adamson’s relationship with vocalist Jobson starts well – Adamson is particularly protective towards the singer when he finds out about his epilepsy – but the friendship becomes increasingly strained as the band gain some success.

Adamson flees The Skids and hooks up with young guitarist Bruce Watson and the hot West London rhythm section of drummer Mark Brzezicki and bassist Tony Butler (who had already played on Pretenders’ ‘Back On The Chain Gang’). It was Tony who was blown away by the musical chemistry after their first jam session, insisting that he and Mark join Big Country.

But even as the band achieve almost immediate success and create a great bond with their many fans (it’s often forgotten how popular Big Country were in the UK, enjoying 12 Top 40 singles during the 1980s), Adamson can’t ditch the serious drinking. More and more difficult behaviour ensues, including a disappearing act around the time of Live Aid which, to this day, Butler deems almost unforgivable.

But Adamson regroups and enjoys 14 years of sobriety after that difficult summer of 1985. A 1988 reunion leads to a bidding war between Virgin and Warners – they go with the latter, head honchos Russ Titelman and Lenny Waronker apparently marvelling at the band’s musicianship. But it all goes wrong again, Adamson jumping ship in 1989.

Big Country were one of the most musically-literate and distinctive rock bands of the 1980s, and we get plenty on just how they achieved their sound: Adamson’s first wife Sandra was a dancer, and her practice tape featured a piper named Willie Law. Adamson would often try to play along, probably the original source of the ‘bagpipe guitars’ tag that followed Big Country around.

Meanwhile Brzezicki based his style around military rudiments (his Polish father insisted that he work through a RAF drum book) and jazz/rock legends such as Billy Cobham and Lenny White.

The book is excellent on the literary sources of Adamson’s lyrics – even hardcore Big Country fans will probably be surprised how many there are.

There are plenty of pertinent, poignant details about him too. A regular five-a-side player, his football friends report that his nickname was Inspector Gadget, because he always had his legs wrapped around someone.

But there’s no getting away from the fact that the last third of ‘Stay Alive’ is a gruelling portrayal of alcoholism and attendant family breakdown, as Adamson begins a new life in the US and Big Country limp on with varying degrees of success.

Still, this excellent book covers all the bases – it’s an essential read about the 1980s music scene and also somewhat of a cautionary tale which should be read by every agent, manager and PR person.

Of course it’ll also be rather a heartbreaking book for Big Country fans. Their excellent performance of ‘King Of Emotion’ on the Channel 4 show ‘Wired’ (this writer’s first real exposure to the band) came complete with Adamson’s cheeky grin and nod to someone in the front row around 0:25. Hard to think of any other 1980s pop frontmen who were so inclined.

Author Scott Rowley discusses ‘Stay Alive’ in this podcast.

Gig Review: Thomas Dolby/Martin McAloon @ Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 21 May 2026

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As gig introductions go, it was one of the best: ‘For those who’ve never seen me live before, I’m Martin McAloon from Deacon Blue.’

Of course Martin is the brother of fellow Prefab Sprouter Paddy McAloon, and for the past five years or so he’s been playing his bro’s fantastic compositions as a solo act.

And this was a potentially exciting double bill with Thomas Dolby, Prefab producer and a fine composer/musician in his own right.

Martin’s opening gambit was the first in a long line of zingers, but he’s also an obviously excellent guitarist, firing off Paddy’s not-at-all simple chords with ease. He managed to find ways of including all the tricky stuff: ‘Faron Young’ came complete with that wacky ascending outro, while the melody of ‘Appetite’ was outlined with some nice Wes-style octaves.

On ‘Goodbye Lucille #1 (Johnny Johnny)’ he even found a way of combining the guitar melody, chords and bassline simultaneously. Meanwhile ‘Looking For Atlantis’ was a very fast shuffle ‘in the style of Elvis, with a bar of 5/4 added for all you jazzers’.

His rather ramshackle presentation is definitely part of his charm (‘I forgot my setlist, but remembered to back it up on my iPhone, but I also forgot my glasses so I can’t read it’) and it was pleasing to hear the Steve McQueen material the way Thomas Dolby may have heard it in Paddy’s bedroom all those years ago.

‘Moving The River’ was indeed moving and the fun closer ‘King Of Rock’n’Roll’ managed to incorporate ‘The Reflex’, ‘Get It On’, ‘Yellow’ and ‘It’s Only Rock’n’Roll’.

But was it good music? For this writer, the jury is still out. It’s unlikely Paddy’s songs (often taken too fast) are going to wither on the vine anytime soon. And there’s no getting away from the rather utilitarian nature of Martin’s voice – the more tender Paddy material particularly suffered.

And sometimes you yearn for a bit more colour from his guitar tones and rhythms – a gentle bossa-nova-style strum seems to be the default for the 4/4 material, with a somewhat unforgiving, bright, dry Les Paul tone. But it’s definitely worth seeing Martin live for the banter and ’80s stories.

Dolby’s set was advertised as a ‘my personal recollections of the 1980s’ with a full live band promised – somewhat of a misnomer, as it turned out. He emerged onto the stage alone, greeting the audience very quietly before settling behind his bank of synths and playing a solo rendition of ‘The Flat Earth’ complete with tinnitus-inducing TR-808, some Martin Luther King Jr. spoken words and too loud vocals – though Dolby’s voice has got richer with age.

He revealed he was born less than a mile from Shepherd’s Bush, making this his home gig, but the ‘80s vibe was blown by his second track, 2011’s underwhelming ‘Evil Twin Brother’, though it segued neatly into Sting’s ‘Bring On The Night’ with which it shares a chord sequence.

photo by Adrian Sartain

Dolby then crowbarred Gary Numan’s ‘Cars’ into ‘One Of Our Submarines’, and he paid tribute to David Bowie with a somewhat ponderous take on ‘Heroes’ complete with back projection of his personal photos taken during Live Aid, and ‘virtual’ vocals from Bowie himself.

Dolby then introduced his rhythm section for the evening: Jakko Jakszyk on guitar, Matt Hector on drums and bassist Ana Pshokina, who had pre-recorded her parts and vocals to a click track at home in Ukraine after being refused entry into the UK, and was thus now appearing via the big screen.

Here’s where the evening really went downhill. Dolby revealed that he was working on a symphony which would feature his own songs mixed with elements of other ‘iconic’ 1980s hits, and had decided to preview it here.

So ‘Flying North’ inexplicably morphed into Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’, and ‘I Love You Goodbye’ into Talking Heads’ ‘This Must Be The Place’, complete with incorrectly played guitar motif by Jakszyk.

The guitarist was also responsible for a toe-curling rendition of ‘Little Red Corvette’, and then Dolby rehashed his ‘meeting Michael Jackson’ story yet again via seriously weird take on ‘Billie Jean’, complete with some unsettling AI dialogue.

Elsewhere there were snatches of Tears For Fears, Kate Bush, Billy Idol, Smiths and Foreigner hits. Dolby had mentioned trying to distance himself from the usual ‘Rewind 1980s nostalgia’ stuff but sadly this gig failed to achieve that.

What your reviewer really wanted to hear was Dolby’s mostly excellent songs played by a really good band. Where was guitarist Kevin Armstrong when we needed him?

When Dolby eased into U2’s ‘With Or Without You’, sad to report that your correspondent couldn’t take any more. All credit to him for going ahead with the show, but arguably the concept was always a hard sell.

Here’s hoping Thomas reforms The Lost Toy People and puts together an Aliens Ate My Buick @ 40 show for 2028, but it seems unlikely…

Rosie Vela: Zazu @ 40 (And Being A Steely Dan Fan In The 1980s)

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‘Models who make records usually should not but I’ll make an exception for Rosie Vela’, began Max Bell’s four-star review of Zazu in the January 1987 edition of Q magazine.

In general, us Brits liked Zazu (peaking at #20 and going silver), the album released 40 years ago this month which reunited the Steely Dan troika of Donald Fagen, Walter Becker and Gary Katz for the first time in nearly six years.

It was weird being a Steely Dan fan during the 1980s. Your correspondent got in around 1984, obsessed with his dad’s Steely Dan Greatest Hits cassette and Aja vinyl, and by 1986 was a megafan who’d only just twigged that Gaucho had been released a full six years earlier.

We were excited when Becker produced China Crisis, but apart from The Nightfly, Fagen seemed to have gone AWOL (he later admitted that he ‘came apart like a cheap suit’ during the decade).

But imagine our surprise when Zazu was advertised in the first issue of Q magazine, and then Rosie was interviewed in issue four.

I probably bought Zazu on the strength of the ‘Magic Smile’ single around January 1987 (but have just checked and no longer own it on any format…).

Texas-born Roseanne Vela had been a first-call model in the late ‘70s and briefly appeared in Michael Cimino’s ‘Heaven’s Gate’, all the while working on her own demos. Jerry Moss at A&M loved them and enlisted Joe Jackson to produce her debut album (he subsequently pulled out).

You can read more about Vela and the background to Zazu in Anthony Robustelli’s book ‘Steely Dan FAQ’, but for our purposes: is it easy to hear why Fagen, Katz and Becker was so drawn to the project?

Not really. But the positive things first:

With her husky voice and sometimes through-composed songs with odd chord movement, she offered something completely different to other mid-‘80s female singer/songwriters.

‘Magic Smile’ still sounds great (#27 in the UK) and ‘Boxs’ is good too. It’s very surprising that ‘Fool’s Paradise’ wasn’t a single though. It sounds like the nearest thing to a hit with its synth lick reminiscent of ‘A Hazy Shade of Winter’.

Fagen plays a nice little intro to ‘Interlude’, and Becker doubles his solo on guitar, a cool touch (Becker also plays the weird little synth additions to ‘Tonto’).

But there’s lots of bad too.

Katz helms a surprisingly cold album which leads a little too heavily on Rick Derringer’s lead guitar, some non-more-‘80s snare drum sounds and way too much DX7 from Fagen. With hindsight, maybe Jackson’s more organic approach would have worked better (Becker’s better still).

‘Sunday’, ‘Taxi’, ‘2nd Emotion’ and ‘Tonto’ are totally unmemorable songs. The closing, almost-gothic title track could have been good though with some more real instruments.

In general Katz renders some superb musicians – Tony Levin, Jimmy Haslip, Jim Keltner – pretty anonymous. In some ways Zazu is the ultimate 1986 album (Robustelli compares it to Gaucho and Aja in ‘Steely Dan FAQ’ – it’s impossible to hear that).

The cover art and photo are poor too – whose idea was it to portray this gorgeous woman in black and white?

Vela did ‘Magic Smile’ on Letterman – a brave performance that didn’t quite work. The album and single completely flopped in the USA.

But of course the main thing about Zazu is that it got Becker and Fagen back together again. Next up for Fagen was the ‘Century’s End’ single and The New York Rock and Soul Revue, both interesting. Kamikiriad was just around the corner.