The Buggles

The Age of Plastic

Somewhere in my third year at University, I bought a CD of greatest number one hits ever, or similar. I was falling in love with songwriting and recording as opposed to composing, and thanks to Steve was thinking so much about Phil Spector, Brian Wilson, and reconsidering my beloved Beatles. I was interested in the idea of form and shape and structure in pop music, and saw this CD of, arguably classics, as a bit of a text book – how do hooks work? Choruses? What renders them most memorable? And in it I really discovered Video Killed the Radio Star.

We used to have barbecues at Temple Villas, Chill-out weekends and parties. I remember sitting in the conservatory with everyone and playing this song, going crazy for those high syncopated strings and Vicky saying to me (placating my mania I suppose) “I do like it, but I’m not hearing what you’re hearing”. No matter. I found the album and bought it in Edinburgh to hilarity. It amazes me how much the first rack sounds like Abba. Were they ever a serious band? I’m aware of how many different side projects Trevor Horn (really, who is the other guy? Only a face with a plug in the neck) had on the go at any one time, so is this the limit or the piss-take?

Anyway, Video Killed the Radio Star appears soon enough. I worked out a pretty acoustic version early in Bristol. Most wonderful and sad song. I don’t care how “cheesy” this comes across, it’s beautiful. I feel a night of music I love coming along – I sang Elvis Costello to myself as I walked back from Tescos with milk. It’s such a wonderful song, the arrangement, the sentiment. The rest of the album could never match up. And I’m not just being wilful or kitsch, it’s gorgeous, and the funny little fadeout only adds to it.

Lines from Kid Dynamo come and hit me – call me if you ever feel like letting go. Our minds will not change, only our cars. I love you Miss Robot, the only other song that’s stuck in my head from my initial listening of this album – thinking you can hear Daft Punk and all of that coming…Cool is cool but how can anyone not love this? OK – the next one’s shit (Clean, clean) but does seem to have something to do with the vague “concept” that seems to be surrounding this (A character called Johnny? There’s even a reprise which is often tell-tale of such things)

Oh, but how I love the introduction to Elstree, even though I laughed as I imitated it to Heppell, Kirstie and Dan in Colville Place as we ate that weird custard apple I bought, split into four, and celebrated each of us the securing of each of our first flats together, them above the chip shop at the top of Broughton Place, us on East London Street, down the road and round the corner, equally down the road and round the corner from Adam, Tim and Jen. Action. Perhaps it owes a debt to Video Killed the Radio Star in terms of chord progression which is why it sits comfortably in my head. I have read about James Mason orating at Judy Garland’s funeral; “Time does not remember the entertainers”.

There does seem to be a point to all of this, even if it is obscured by time and fashion. Let them be lonely and say you don’t care. Let them be broken and say you don’t care. I am beginning to love this more than I thought possible – even I thought I had this in my collection as more of a curio but I am entertaining thoughts of teaching myself these songs. Perhaps these things are better when they are more reflective than heroic. “Oh my-my, you are so sci-fi”

The start of Technopop is so joyous. It does make me laugh tho – I wonder what was in her mind, was I really so unkind? I lie back and turn the radio on – TECHNOPOP!! That’s pretty hilarious actually, I have an urge to tell Jack. I wonder if that was the end of the album originally (I hope it was, an amazing ending) because surely the Johnny on the Monorail (a very different version) is some kind of bonus track…All we cannot see we call invisible. They call him “Johnny Rascal” and I can hear parts of I love you Miss Robot reappearing before the album disappears into guitars.