Living on the Ceiling

A Dessert By Any Other Name

Blancmange (/bləˈmɒnʒ/, from French blanc-manger [blɑ̃mɑ̃ʒe], lit. “white eat”) is a sweet dessert popular throughout Europe, commonly made with milk or cream and sugar, thickened with rice flour, gelatin, or corn starch, and often flavored with almonds.

I will always be partial to synth-pop music from the early 1980s. This was the era in which I immersed myself in the sounds of British alternative music, enjoying key bands and artists that I happily emulated in both dress and hairstyle, and regularly danced to in the clubs. Blancmange—an electronic duo formed in 1979 in Harrow, London—was composed of two primary members (originally three): Neil Arthur, the lyricist and vocalist with the signature flop of hair covering one side of his face, and Stephen Luscombe, the cute blonde keyboardist (among other instruments). Luscombe recently passed on September 13, 2025, at age 70, after many years of health and heart issues.

Blancmange’s sound is a unique blend of 1980s synth-pop, world-music influences (especially Indian and tabla rhythms), and art-school sensibilities. Their music is characterized by quirky lyrics, a mix of bleakness and humor, and an underlying electronic edge. They became known for pairing catchy, energetic electro-pop with oblique, often dark lyrical themes and avant-garde textures—frequently incorporating tabla and sitar. Theirs was a truly distinctive sound that hooked me from the very first listen sometime in 1983 on KROQ’s legendary Roq of the 80’s playlist. The song had been released in the UK in October 1982 and climbed to #7 on the British charts. Here in the United States, it never made the Billboard Hot 100 (Americans hadn’t been clued in quite yet), but it did find its way onto the Hot Dance Club Play chart.

I also remember seeing the video for the first time on MTV in early 1983. At the time, I was working as a VJ at Revolver, one of the first video clubs in the country (shout-out to Midnight Sun in San Francisco and Private Eyes in New York). As DJs, we met regularly with record labels in Los Angeles, along with artists and comedians looking for exposure to the always-coveted gay clientele.

The club was still within its first year. We were a commodity, and the place would be packed—standing room only—because of the novel concept we were presenting. MTV was wildly popular, and the idea of music as visual was unbelievably infectious, especially given the lack of opportunities to see live performances outside of variety shows, late-night concert specials, or local venues. This was long before you could click a song to hear it anytime you wanted. Sure, we could put on the LP, but even the idea of having a CD player in your car had not yet arrived; if I’m not mistaken, this was exactly the time (late 1982/early 1983) when CDs were first introduced.

I remember sitting with a cassette recorder next to a portable radio, trying to catch songs from the very beginning when they played—an absolute crapshoot. Sometimes you’d miss the intro, or the DJ would still be talking. That’s how we made mixtapes when the turntable wasn’t available, or the song had not been released yet in the U.S. In the club, we used VHS tapes, with eight or ten decks set up on both sides of the booth. The mixers and sound controls sat in front of us. Behind us was the steady line of drinks people would bring up as bribes to “play their song.” They almost always came with drugs, too. I won’t lie—this was a very good job.

Blancmange arrived along with a wave of favorites: Depeche Mode, Soft Cell, China Crisis, Ultravox, The Human League, Heaven 17, The Thompson Twins, ABC, Visage, The The, Tears for Fears, OMD, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Eurythmics, A Flock of Seagulls, The Police, Adam and the Ants, Devo, Kraftwerk, XTC, Haircut 100, Gang of Four, Roxy Music, Simple Minds, Thomas Dolby, Gary Numan, The Cure, Slow Children, The Boomtown Rats, Toto Coelo, Bow Wow Wow, Elvis Costello, Trio, Peter Gabriel, and Billy Idol.

And that’s not even including all the spectacular American synth-pop artists of the time.

My Anglophilia was raging and deeply satisfied during this period of my life. Blancmange was a shining example of the era, with songs like “Living on the Ceiling,” along with “Blind Vision,” “Don’t Tell Me,” “Lose Your Love,” “Game Above My Head,” and “That’s Love (That It Is) .” London shaped so much of my influence back then, and it was a time I’ll never forget—a period just before the consequences of refusing to grow up began to arrive.

This Substack is a shout-out to Blancmange and a testament to Stephen Luscombe.

Living on the ceiling, no more room down there.

Things fall into place, you got the joke, fall into place.

Well I’m so tall, I’m so tall,

You raise me, and then you let me fall.

And I’m so small, I’m so small,

Wrap me round your finger, seen before.