Netherlands-based Xymox had been kicking around in goth circles for most of the ’80s as Clan of Xymox, but when they signed to major label Wing in 1989, they shortened their name and expanded their appeal. Their major label debut, Twist of Shadows, was filled with more of the band’s Cure-inspired danceable goth, but this time the hooks were front and center.
The album’s first single, “Obsession” (download) set the tone, as the thunder that begins the track segues into an industrial-tinged dance beat as vocalist/guitarist Ronny Moorings (there’s a gothic name for you) sings in a Robert Smith style. The combination was irresistible to alternative dance clubs and video got a fair amount of play on MTV’s 120 Minutes (God, I miss that show):
But it was the album’s third single (after “Blind Hearts”), “Imagination (Edit),” (download) that brought the band the most mainstream attention. This time around bassist Anke Wolbert took the vocal lead over a New Order beat that was certainly more in vogue in 1990 than during the band’s mid-80’s efforts. They were rewarded with some sporadic Top 40 radio airplay and the single even charted in the lower reaches of the Hot 100, an unimaginable feat for a former 4AD band. (more…)
Elastica frontperson Justine Frischmann could certainly be called a central figure in the ’90s Britpop movement. After all, this was the former guitarist from Suede who gave that band its name, as well as dating its singer, Brett Anderson. Then, she split with Anderson and took up with Blur vocalist Damon Albarn in a storm of tabloid fury. But all that paled in comparison to the mark she made when her band, Elastica, became the first Britpop band to really break America.
Punk legends in Los Angeles before they could legally drink, Jeff and Steve McDonald spent most of the ’80s as a cult sensation, loved as much for their pop culture references (name-checking everyone from Linda Blair to the Brady Bunch to Charles Manson) as they were for their thrashy brand of bubblegum-laced power-pop. As the ’90s dawned, the band entered a new phase, signing to Atlantic Records for their major-label debut, Third Eye. You may recognize the title, since, despite being a killer album, it filled cutout bins nationwide almost immediately after its release, and Atlantic dumped the boys. It was a matter of bad timing, since two short years later, a little trio from Seattle named Nirvana would take that same Knack-goes-to-a-Black-Flag-show concept and change alternative music forever.
In 1988, Leslie Phillips turned her back on a successful career as a Christian Contemporary artist, changed her performing moniker to “Sam,” and recorded her first mainstream pop album, The Indescribable Wow, with producer and soon-to-be husband T Bone Burnett. It was a bold move that paid off critically, if not commercially. The album sold a fraction of Phillips’ Christian work, but her inventive songwriting and unique voice won her a new cult of fans.
The Sundays began the ’90s by combining the best of the previous decade’s indie rock – The Smiths and the Cocteau Twins – with a wall of guitars courtesy of David Gavurin topped with the exquisite vocals of Harriet Wheeler. Tasting near-immediate success with their debut, Reading, Writing and Arithmetic, and its single, “Here’s Where The Story Ends,” the group traded in atmospheric, jangly guitar pop heavy on the reverb. A similarly flavored follow-up, Blind, followed in 1992, best known on these shores for featuring a dream-pop reading of the Stones “Wild Horses.” Budweiser commercials beckoned, both albums went Gold, then the Sundays – vanished.
Yes, we’ve just gone and declared this week Kon Kan Week here at Popdose. Seeing as the duo nicked their name from the Canadian Content requirement for broadcast media up north, it’s only fair you get your dose of Kontent this week. Since the illustrious Mr. Steed featured Kon Kan’s 
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No, no, dear reader, I didn’t lose track while writing at 11pm once again and accidentally throw up a Lost in the ’80s post. By 1990, Adam Ant was pretty much considered washed-up. His last album, 1985’s, Vive Le Rock, sank without a ripple (despite being a fun, Tony Visconti-produced, glammy blast), and Ant was spending most of his days playing minor parts in b-movies in an attempt to cross over to Hollywood. That’s why it was such a shock to suddenly see a new Adam Ant album on the racks as the ’90s dawned, much less one produced by Prince bassist Andre Cymone.
Most bands would be happy to have one or two songs on their debut album considered strong enough to be singles. But what happens when your record label is so pleased by the number of potential hits, they’re afraid to release too many too soon?
When Marcy Playground’s borderline-annoying novelty hit “Sex And Candy” was all over alternative radio in the late ’90s, spending an astounding 15 weeks at #1 on the Modern Rock Chart, I couldn’t think of a song I could possibly like less. So imagine my shock when I not only liked a song from their second album, but that second album became one of my favorites from the ’90s.
On Tuesday, we talked about Jules Shear’s ![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=b8a7eea6-a0b6-48b5-944c-e6cdde73274e)
