Decade of Decadence

I love music from the 1980s. It was a remarkable decade: great performers, powerful voices, addictive rhythms, and music videos that, let’s be honest, sometimes made absolutely no sense. That made them even more fun. 

I was listening to Lionel Ritchie and grooving to Dancing on the Ceiling as I drove into the heart of Wilmywood this morning. Naturally, I mentioned it to the little princess who lives in my head.

“The 1980s were the best era for popular music.”

“The Decade of Decadence,” she said. “Big hair; bigger shoulder pads; songs about people who couldn’t get through an afternoon without falling in love, falling apart, or taking their clothes off.”

“That’s a rather narrow interpretation.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely. The music was extraordinary. The performers were people like us, if we’d chosen musical careers. We could all have been rock stars in the '80s.”

“Name three extraordinary songs.”

Music That Is Meaningful and Memorable
"Okay," I said. "What I like best are the mood-lifting songs, whether or not they get a Grammy nomination. Others make me want to sing along. A few of them reach a place inside me that I didn’t know existed. 

Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You is one of them. When she sings those words, I have the peculiar feeling that she’s singing directly to me, as if she’s saying goodbye. It brings up an emotional mix of love and loss. I tried to explain this to Amy.

“So,” she said, “you hear Whitney Houston sing that song and take it as a personal farewell?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

“No.”

“Did you go to one of her concerts?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Amy shook her head. “Let’s move on.”

Another song that holds a special place in my heart is Faithfully by Journey. During the seventeen years we lived at Chatsford Hall, ten cats became part of our family, though never all at once. We called ourselves the Chatsford Tribe, and each cat was cherished and loved.

“Faithfully has become the anthem for all the furry members of our family,” I told Amy. “And Celine Dion’s Where Does My Heart Beat Now belongs to one very special member of that tribe.”

Amy was unusually quiet for a moment.

“All love songs,” she scoffed.

“I love all kinds of music, not just love songs.”

“Really? Keep naming them. I can’t wait.”

I decided Amy needed a little education.

The Case for Having Fun
Not every song carries a heavy emotional history. When I hear Prince’s Delirious, I experience spontaneous joy. I’m transported to a place where life is ridiculously fun and happy. 

I shared that nugget with Amy and added, "Sometimes the feeling lasts only as long as the song; sometimes it carries me through the rest of the day.”

“That’s interesting,” Amy said. “You have a musical happiness button.”

“Exactly!”

“Have you considered that music might be easier than therapy?”

“I have thought of that.”

“Apparently, all you need is a Prince playlist.”

“Another favorite is Michael Jackson’s P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing). I don’t actually know the lyrics, but I love the groove. Michael’s perfectly timed vocal inflections and those wonderfully smooth backup harmonies release the feel-good chemicals in my brain.

Amy looked puzzled. “You love a song, but you don’t know what he’s singing about?”

“I don’t need to know the words to appreciate the music.”

“Convenient.”

“And I sing along anyway.”

“How can you join in when you don’t know the lyrics?”

“I improvise.”

“Ah. So you’re not singing the song. You’re composing your own version.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

A Little Less Sentiment, Please

"My musical tastes aren’t entirely sentimental,” I said. “John Fogerty’s Centerfield takes me back to the years I taught aerobics classes. It began every mixtape I made for class, and I can’t help smiling whenever I hear it.”

Amy raised an eyebrow. “You made mixtapes? With actual cassette tapes?”

“Yes, Amy. That’s how we did it.”

“And if you made a mistake?”

“You rewound the tape with a No. 2 pencil and started over.”

She looked genuinely appalled. “How did anyone survive?”

The Verdict, Such As It Is

I thought I’d made a pretty convincing case for the decade. Amy, however, wasn’t ready to concede.

“Let’s not forget that it was a time for celebrating decadence,” she said. “The hairstyles alone were shocking.”

“Hair has nothing to do with music.”

“Have you seen the photographs?” She paused, then added, “Still, you named some good songs.”

I smiled. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Perhaps Amy is right: the ’80s deserve the title “Decade of Decadence.” But the music still makes me laugh and dance. Somehow, the songs and memories say what I can’t quite put into words. And when a song can do that, who cares if its video features a marching band of Egyptian dancers?