David, a good friend and fellow music fan, has a project where he listens to the Top 100 songs from each year since his birth while working in his office. The younger employees who work for him get a kick out of hearing the “old stuff” but always ask, “Why was this popular?” Since 1981 was a prime music year for me, he asked for my thoughts. I revisited my music essays from an earlier project and was reminded that I did not care for the Top 100 that year. Instead, I listened to albums with deeper cuts that never made the list. I’ve edited and republished that essay below.
Judging by the Top 100, 1981 was just… bad. I struggle to understand what happened. I asked myself this question a half-dozen times before a friend mentioned something that makes sense—the industry adapted to change by manufacturing lighter hits for established artists. That sounds about right. Record executives, seeing the shifting landscape, went to work churning out pop fluff for the masses. New bands and songs struggled to compete and were pushed to the margins, leaving behind a largely forgettable pop legacy.
Out of the 100 songs, I liked 22. When I say I like a song, it means I would put it in rotation on a playlist and listen to it a few times a year. Of those 22, three were marked as favorites—songs I listen to at least once a month, sometimes as often as once a week.
“Don’t Stand So Close to Me” – The Police
This classic is a monthly listen that frequently appears on my ’80s playlists. I enjoyed the song and the band’s first album, Zenyatta Mondatta. Over time, I soured on The Police, likely due to Sting’s antics. The song leans toward the pop side of rock, categorized as both new wave and pop rock—a horrible place for a good song to end up. I remember that Sting wore an English Beat T-shirt in the music video, which I thought was cool at the time.
“Watching the Wheels” – John Lennon
This is a monthly listen, usually found on my Best of The Beatles & Post-Beatles playlists. I don’t seek it out often because it makes me sad, but when it plays, I enjoy it. Oddly, by the end, I always feel a little better.
“Hey Nineteen” – Steely Dan
For me, this was the best song of the year, despite being ranked only No. 72. It far surpasses the No. 1 hit, “Bette Davis Eyes.” The song and the album it was released on, Gaucho, are beautiful. I play them frequently, and they feature on several of my favorite playlists.
There were 28 songs I rated as a 2—or “meh” on my scale. I remember them but rarely hear them anymore. Some are good, but most fall into the category of songs I recognize but have no desire to hear again. I often struggle to recall the band or the song’s name. The lyrics are usually on the tip of my tongue but remain just out of reach. For example, “The Best of Times” by Styx and “Urgent” by Foreigner are songs I could sing along to—if I had a few beers in me.
There were 38 songs that were forgettable, including two I don’t remember at all: “Somebody’s Knocking” by Terri Gibbs and “Giving It Up for Love” by Delbert McClinton. Plus, there was a Beach Boys medley that was once popular but has seemingly disappeared from existence.
“The Cuervo Gold, the fine Colombian, make tonight a wonderful thing.”
Steely Dan’s Hey Nineteen has unforgettable lyrics. I love singing along with this classic, just as I do with the rest of the songs on Gaucho. This album was the band’s last for 20 years, so I had to get my Steely Dan fix in other ways. Donald Fagen’s solo work was outstanding, while Walter Becker’s, unfortunately, wasn’t commercially viable. If you haven’t, try listening to 11 Tracks of Whack.
What’s my favorite song from Gaucho? Like all Steely Dan albums, I prefer to listen to it from start to finish, but I do have my favorites:
- Babylon Sisters
- Time Out of Mind
- Hey Nineteen
- Glamour Profession
In the latter half of 1981, I used to play Gaucho for my wife and newborn son. We couldn’t afford much beyond reading, watching TV, and listening to music. I think of this album as my love-in-Sunnymead reference. We must have listened to it a few hundred times in our tiny one-room apartment, just off the 60 freeway. I can still picture myself on our worn-out couch, my wife on one arm, my baby son in the other, Gaucho playing in the background. Those were some good times—despite living on the edge of poverty.
One of the key things I enjoy about music is its ability to recall visual memories indelibly stamped in my mind of a place and time. It’s almost a form of time travel. I tend to skip the disco years.
Peanuts In My Pocket 
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