The most rock-radio acceptable of the new-wave acts (with the possible exception of the Cars and the Police), the Fixx were always unfairly slammed as a producer’s band, the mere playthings of Rupert Hine, who buffed their angular, jagged sound to an airwaves-friendly sheen. I never quite understood how this was considered an insult — why should the Fixx feel slighted because they found a great producer who knew what to do with them? Isn’t that the point of a producer?
By 1984 the partnership had borne two gold albums, one platinum album, three Top 40 hits, and a few AOR staples. In fact the Fixx and Hine were producing material at such a quick clip that one of their better songs ended up as a cut on the Streets of Fire soundtrack (which was discussed here) as well as the B-side on Phantoms’s first single, “Are We Ourselves?”
“Deeper and Deeper” was an oddity on that 1984 film’s soundtrack alongside overwrought Jim Steinman productions and Dan Hartman’s schlocky “I Can Dream About You.” A sinister mix of snakelike synths, discordant guitar, and less-goofy-than-usual lyrics from vocalist Cy Curnin, the original version (download) was too long to be a hit, but it still garnered plenty of AOR and club airplay. It also became a staple of the band’s live show.
“Deeper and Deeper” got enough love to be included in a few of the Fixx’s greatest-hits compilations over the years, including my favorite, the nearly complete Ultimate Collection. They continue to tour, and the song is still part of every set. I’m sort of bummed that I won’t get to see them during my trip to Hawaii in late July — they hit our 50th state for three shows in August, according to their website.
“Deeper and Deeper” peaked at #3 on the Billboard Album Rock Tracks chart and at #47 on the Billboard Hot Dance Music/Club Play chart in 1984.
Get the Fixx’s music at Amazon
It’s amazing to even consider now, but once there were debates on who’d be the bigger band – U2 or Big Country?
In 1984, famed disco producer Giorgio Moroder got it into his head that Fritz Lang’s silent 1927 masterpiece Metropolis needed to be restored with colored tint, a new edit, and heck, a new soundtrack filled with the hottest pop and rock artists of the day. And who else to produce that soundtrack than, say, Giorgio Moroder?
It never hurt to have a visual hook to get on MTV in the ’80s. From Bananrama and Dexys Midnight Runners’ hobo-chic, to Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran’s new romantic ruffles, a cool gimmick was sometimes all a band needed to get them over some middling material.
The recent release of a cleaned up and remastered Ultravox 
(including a bonus DVD with all the Midge Ure-era videos) got me thinking about how much I used to love this band, despite their being so serious all the time.
There are certain acts and albums I absolutely adored in my younger days in the ’80s that I don’t quite care for now. One of these groups is the Thompson Twins, the New Wave trio that broke into the charts big time with the 1984 single “Hold Me Now” and its album, Into The Gap. As a high-school sophomore, I wore out my copy of Gap, but I really loved their 1982 effort, Side Kicks, which featured “Lies” and “Love On Your Side.”
Here’s an example of a great song that couldn’t be confined to a B-side. Wide Boy Awake was Adam & the Ants bassist Kevin Mooney’s first project after splitting from the Ants following 1980’s Kings of the Wild Frontier. While his new group only released a handful of tracks, two became club hits, one of which is still fondly remembered and played on “retro” club nights to this day.
We’ve talked about Peter Godwin’s great lost art-rock combo, Metro, in a 
When Siobahn Fahey left Bananarama in 1988, most people probably never expected to hear from her again. For Fahey to return to music with a goth look fronting a Siouxsie Sioux-influenced dance/electro combo was probably the most unexpected thing of all. But in 1988, Fahey’s solo project, Shakespear’s Sister (originally with an apostrophe, later without) released its debut album, Sacred Heart, and single, “Break My Heart.”
As much as I adore the inherent goofiness that is new wave — the guyliner, the overwrought posing, the one-finger keyboard technique — sometimes I must admit some acts come dangerously close to goofy overload, camping it up far too much for even my appreciative sensibilities. Luckily, Total Coelo are not one of those acts (ha, fooled ya).
