Tag Archives: iandury

18 Memorable TV Ads Of The 1980s

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The British film industry struggled during the ’80s. But at least we made good ads…

Brands were forking out big money for TV spots. ‘Celebrities’ frequently appeared and esteemed directors (Alan Parker, Ridley Scott, Hugh Hudson, Roland Joffe) were occasionally at the helm.

To some, the proliferation of well-made TV ads was a sure sign of a nation in fine health. To others, it was just another ugly symbol of the Thatcherite dream, corporate capitalism running riot in the most divisive of decades.

Bruce Robinson, for one, was in the latter camp – he spent the entire length of his 1988 movie ‘How To Get Ahead In Advertising’ decrying the industry.

But here are some ads that remain totally fresh in the mind. On viewing them for the first time in 30 years, almost all raised a titter of familiarity – pure comfort viewing.

Maybe it’s the soft-focus tint of nostalgia, but don’t they seem warmer, more imaginative, less desperate for your attention than the current crop? Or did they bring to bear all the evils of corporate ‘storytelling’ for the first time? Over to you…

18. The Guardian: ‘Points Of View’ (1986)

17. Clorets: ‘Security Guards’ (1989)

16. Maxell: ‘Break The Sound Barrier’ (1984)

15. Ready Brek: ‘Central Heating’ (1982)

14. BT: ‘Ology’ (1988)

13. The Milk Board: ‘Accrington Stanley’ (1988)

12. Tunes: ‘Return To Nottingham’ (1985)

11. Yellow Pages: ‘Bike’ (1985)

10. Yellow Pages: ‘JR Hartley’ (1983)

9. Yellow Pages: ‘Train Set’ (1985)

8. Shake ‘n’ Vac (1980)

7. BA: Club World (1987)

6. Toshiba: ‘Hello Tosh’ (1985)

5. Big Track (1980)

4. Hamlet: ‘Photo Booth’ (1987)

3. Heineken: ‘Water In Majorca’ (1988)

2. R Whites Lemonade (1980)

1. Quatro (1985)

Madness: Five Reasons To Be Cheerful

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madnessThese days, brands (and possibly bands) spend thousands – if not millions – of pounds on copywriters who half-inch bargain-basement slogans from popular psychology and self-help books.

You know the kind of thing: ‘Find Your Happy’, ‘Believe In Better’ and all that other absolute twaddle. Anyway, I know a much better way to ‘find my happy’: watching a few Madness videos.

It’s easy to forget how great a lot of their stuff is if you’re an English pop fan. They’re so much part of the furniture. According to the stats, no other band spent more time on the UK singles chart during the 1980s.

One of the keys to their longevity seems to be that they are essentially a songwriters’ collective; at one point or another, all the members have had a hand in penning a hit (they famously shared the publishing royalties seven ways – 50% for the writer/writers, and the remainder divided up equally among everyone else).

There’s definitely method in their madness: intelligent, often socially-conscious lyrics that are actually about something, subtly-effective major/minor chord changes, hooks galore, spooky textures, a superb rhythm section and the ever-reliable Clive Langer/Alan Winstanley producing/engineering team (the former apparently had lots of good songwriting and arranging input too).

And in terms of music videos, surely their body of work is the most consistent of the decade, alongside Talking Heads and maybe a few others. So here, in chronological order, are my favourite Madness vids – and some pretty damn good songs to boot.

5. Baggy Trousers (1980)

The Ian Dury-influenced classic, written by singer Suggs and guitarist Chris Foreman. I can remember first seeing this video on ‘Top Of The Pops’ like it was yesterday.

4. Shut Up (1981)

Written by Suggs and Chris Foreman from the point of view of a very deluded house burglar, this is a worthy entry into that select group of hits whose titles don’t feature in the lyrics. Blur were definitely listening – compare it with their ‘Sunday Sunday’.

3. Driving In My Car (1982)

Written by pianist Mike Barson, the video features the lads driving down Goldhawk Road, Shepherd’s Bush, and there’s even a brief cameo from Fun Boy Three.

2. Our House (1982)

Written by Chris Foreman and saxophonist Cathal Smyth AKA Chas Smash, apparently the one-line chorus was added at the last minute at producer Clive Langer’s insistence.

1. House Of Fun (1982)

Written by Lee Thompson and Mike Barson, this time the chorus was apparently demanded by Stiff Records boss Dave Robinson.

Great Brit Swearing: Ian Dury, Culture Club, David Bowie & Up Yaws

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487px-Ian_Dury_1Those of a nervous or sensitive disposition, look away now/cover your ears…

I’ve always had a penchant for good swearing in music. And long before those Parental Advisory stickers, there were some real humdingers.

Ian Dury’s oeuvre was of course an early landmark – his ‘Plaistow Patricia’ became a kind of forbidden, blasphemous classic as did Marianne Faithful’s coruscating ‘Why D’Ya Do It’. They both sounded like they really meant it.

David Bowie’s ‘It’s No Game (Part 2)’ would also have us in stitches. His rather random four-letter word, sung in Iggyish baritone, enlivened many a dull afternoon.

But then my uncle (it’s always uncles) passed me the following curio and the world of muso swearing was never quite the same again. Initially coming on like a first-rate pastiche of early-’80s UK jazz/funk as played by the likes of Shakatak, its gradual insertion of four-letter words and random insults never fails to provoke a titter.

It’s puerile, silly and childish, and I absolutely defend it as a piece of music. Rumours abound as to who’s responsible – the most likely candidates have emerged as sundry members of The Damned… (But if anyone knows for sure, please leave a message at the bottom of this post.)

Then there’s the whole subgenre of bands-getting-it-wrong-in-the-studio-and-swearing-alot. The Troggs Tapes are of course the industry standard, but a Culture Club outtake from 1983 recently came to light on a career-spanning box set (recently removed from YouTube, sadly…).

It features our four heroes (plus poor pianist Phil Pickett) trying to record ‘Victims’ with the underlying pressures of expensive studio costs, an out-of-tune fretless bass and Boy George/Jon Moss’s corrosive love affair.

Suffice it to say, things don’t go too well. But imagine trying to ‘produce’ this lot. Come to think of it, producer Steve Levine is possibly the one voice we don’t hear. Had he given up the ghost or was he all-too-aware of not getting involved and spoiling an audio-verite ‘classic’?