Umesh was a pioneer, ahead of his time. I'd never heard about house music till he let me listen to a recording on his tinny speakers. My brain was not ready for it yet, and the repetitive four-on-the floor beat overlaid with camp vocals remained as mysterious to me as the recipe for Apa's Chana Magaj. While he was trying to explain the difference between Acid House and disco, my classmates brought in mix tapes they had made by leaving a casette recorder running in a club and spent study sessions carefully drawing playboy bunnies on their canvas bags and arguing about the exact size of DJ superfly's fingers. The quality of the recordings was far from adequate, but they were happy as long as they could hear the bass, to "klop it", while the DJ could be heard (vaguely) trying to get his voice heard over the music:
"mumble mumble mumble TONIGHT!
mumble, Jerome your mother's in the foyer
mumble TONIGHT!"
I do not understand to this day why DJ's at the time insisted on trying to sing along, telling us to "Jack your body", or "tay tay tay tay take or leave us". Vocalists get paid rather well to do what they do. Leave it to them.
The arrival of the CD meant that the quality of sound improved dramatically, but actually owning a CD player was beyond the reach of most of the kids at school. Having a recording from a CD was something cool, whilst actually owning a CD elevated your status to something approaching minor deity. One of the first CD's I heard was by Chris Rea (on the beach) at my friend Yogi's house. His brother had quite a collection which included Michael Franks, whom I've never heard from since and Sade whom I thought was gorgeous. Some of the posh girls still listened to Wham!, although I still can't understand how we never figured out that George Michael was gay even after we saw him dance.
Choice of hairstyle was dictated by the musicians at the time- the mullet was king, but the curly perm with the obligatory wet-look came a close second. Girls often opted for the androgynous quiff favoured by the new romantics like Duran Duran or the untamed mousse-mane with the hat-behind-the-fringe look to go with the plastic Madonna bangles. Party-wear was clashing colours, tights with bubble skirts for girls or pastel Miami Vice suits with sleeves at half-mast for boys.
Ah yes, the eighties. So glad to have been there, so glad they're gone.
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