A further illustration of my penchant for European, and primarily British bands and music through the years is a group out of the United Kingdom called Talk Talk. My first draw to their synthesized pop, post-rock, and the melodic sound was the voice of Mark Hollis, easily one of my favorite male voices from the era. Hollis, who passed away in 2019 at age 64, had a distinct and unmistakable voice that was so strong, but so vulnerable. He and the band members of Talk Talk, Lee Harris (the drummer), Paul Webb (the guitarist), and originally Steve Brenner (keyboards), created, in my opinion, one of the most underrated 80s bands emerging from the new wave, post-punk era.
Hollis’ voice was an emotional one. He sang from what felt like pain and sincerity. There was a guttural, mid-level, almost exaggerated tone that felt passionate, even when it almost seemed in many appearances, that he may have loved the singing but did not always enjoy the performing, or perhaps the notoriety that accompanied it. The earlier works of the band were not always well received, and they did not reach a level of success in the United States that I would have expected, although did chart modestly at home in the UK.
I first heard Talk Talk in 1982 when they were originally played on my musical treasure trove KROQ (the ROQ of the 80s) here in Los Angeles. It was that year that their self-titled single was on the airwaves (listen below), and I instantly fell in love. Introductions to music were a bit harder to find in the pre-technology days. We heard new music at a club, at a friend’s house, at a party, on a rare music or talk show on television, or if we were lucky enough we would find that source of magic that KROQ represented to me when I arrived in Los Angeles in 1980. When I discovered something I liked I had a voracious appetite to find more and dig deep into the sounds that intrigued me. From as early as I can remember my research was done in record stores.
Growing up on Long Island in New York I primarily found myself in Sam Goody. They had stores all over and, outside of a few smaller chains or one-offs, I spent most of my searching for materials in Goody. In Los Angeles, there were dozens of stylized and niche record stores that would or could house a number of the new sounds I was beginning to become introduced to. But the mecca for me became Tower Records, where I could spend hours and hours looking through sections and rows, stacks, and piles of the newest music, and some that I had been introduced to well into their existence. In some stores there were booths to listen to music, in others, it might be a crapshoot to explore a new album if you’ve only heard one cut from it somewhere. I can also point to the sheer joy I would experience when visiting one of the larger Tower Records in London, or Paris, France.
But these were my haunts. I would spend time in places like Book Soup and Tower Records on Sunset Blvd., and smaller shops in Hollywood like Arons Records and Peaches. In them, I would find so many of what would eventually be the triggers I write about here. Music that drowned out the world, soothed me like a meditation, partied me like an animal, and helped me to hone my earlier craft as a DJ (and eventually VJ) in West Hollywood in the early 1980s.
I regret that in all of my clubbing and concerts during these years I was never able to see Talk Talk in concert or in a club. I don’t know that I was fully aware of what Mark Hollis, Lee Harris, and Paul Webb would mean to me when they did their only local show in September of 1982 at the Palladium. I missed it. It wasn’t until later years that I actually got to see too much of the band at all due to circumstances in the years prior to the internet and smartphones.
When I did do my gigs, however, the band was always featured, as they were when I spent my years as a VJ at Revolver, the club on Santa Monica Blvd. in Boystown, West Hollywood. Back in the 1980s, the place hustled. It still had competition in the immediate area from Studio One and Rage (starting in 1983), and to a lesser extent, Motherlode, Palms (for women), The Four-Star Saloon, and Trunks. A lot of the bands that I saw live in the 1980s, however, were up on Sunset Blvd directly above Boystown and below the Hollywood Hills in clubs like The Rainbow, The Roxy, and the Whiskey a Go Go.
The music in this era was an extraordinarily surreal experience for me to see live when I played these bands so often. It is a shame to me to think that amongst the bands and musical triggers I have written about Talk Talk’s “Another Word” is likely going to be one of the least known by most who follow me here. The song, released in 1984 from the band’s first album from 1982 called The Party’s Over, never charted anywhere but Germany. The Germans loved Talk Talk, as did the British, to a certain point. In America we never really had a full introduction to the voice of Mark Hollis and, as a result, you will likely be meeting them for the first time or might possibly recognize this masterful voice for the first time in decades. You might know them by their self-titled “Talk Talk,” a song that Hollis had brought with him from the band he was with previously, or possibly from songs like “Today,” “It’s My Life,” “Life’s What You Make It,” “Living in Another World,” or “Such A Shame.” When you do hear his voice I hope you experience what I did from the very first listen. Feel his vulnerability and pain, and watch his stoic and almost nonchalant attitude to the public part of his art. Genius.
All soldiers have a cause
Giving life upon graffitied walls
As a way to pass the time
I saw a father’s tear
For a leader standing over here
“Who’s the King?” says a passerby
But it’s another word, it’s another word, word.
Thank you, Melanie. That means a lot to me. ❤️🌹
I just love your writing! ❤️