The Executive Slacks being one of those mostly forgotten yet essential industrial grade outfits who did their bit for the greater evolution of all mankind in the mid-1980s. The Bus being a wonderfully uptight little ditty about the horrors of crowded public transit.
“African Head Charge were nothing if not truth in advertising. Or as I once heard it put, ‘it’s like Africa on acid, except you’re at least ten thousand miles from Africa, so what is it really?.’ What they were was a loose sort of psychedelic dub outfit formed by London based percussionist Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah in the early 1980s, with Adrian Sherwood at the mixing board, having fun with frequencies, noise, rhythm and razor blades (which is how they used to edit audio in those days – direct application of sharpened metal to electromagnetic tape). Depth Charge is pure truth in advertising. It goes deep and the slightest contact leaves you with at least a bit of burn.” (Philip Random)
Upon leaving the then cool sort of cutting edge underground band known as Genesis in early 1975, Peter Gabriel embarked on period of serious reinvention. His second solo album found none other than Robert Fripp in the producer’s chair and Mr. Gabriel very much ready for whatever weirdness the coming decade (the 1980s) might have to throw his way. Indeed, a song such as White Shadow suggests that he’d be doing a bunch of the throwing.
Curious George were one of many solid (if messy) punk-hardcore-whatever bands slamming around Vancouver in those curious years of perpetual struggle (otherwise known as the 1980s), their cover of this rather tired Pink Floyd original driving home the point that it’s seldom the song that’s wrong, only the performance. There is nothing wrong with this performance.
“NYC proto-hipster types Bongwater take on a Moody Blues classic and pay it no respect at all. That’s just how things were in the 80s. The 60s were officially a bad trip and, if you were halfway cool, you were doing everything you could to bury them. Because they really did need to be dead for a while, so they could be reborn out of some caustic storm of superlative noise. At least that’s what it felt like at the time, the so-called Winter of Hate.” (Philip Random)
“I have no idea who Trisomie 21 are, or where this record even came from. It just showed up in my collection sometime in the mid-80s (a confusing time indeed), the hideous cover being precisely the kind of thing you couldn’t ignore. And then you’ve got whatever’s going on in Is Anybody Home? The singer’s trying to croon, not really pulling it off, but the mix is so deranged it works anyway. A reminder that the 80s were stranger than anyone gives them credit for.” (Philip Random)
Randophonic 
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