- Madonna: Express Yourself
- Prince: Batdance
- Simply Red: If You Don't Know Me by Now
- Martika: Toy Soldiers
- Love & Rockets: So Alive
- Fine Young Cannibals: Good Thing
- Milli Vanilli: Baby Don't Forget My Number
- Kim Mitchell: Rock 'n' Roll Party
- Stevie Nicks: Rooms on Fire
- Don Henley: The End of the Innocence
- Neneh Cherry: Buffalo Stance
- Roxette: Dressed for Success
- The Doobie Brothers: The Doctor
- Rod Stewart: Crazy About Her
- Richard Marx: Right Here Waiting
- Bobby Brown: On Our Own
- Cyndi Lauper: I Drove All Night
- Expose: What You Don't Know
- Donna Summer: This Time I Know It's for Real
- Candi: Missing You
- Paul McCartney: My Brave Face
- Henry Lee Summer: Hey Baby
- Indio: Hard Sun
- Cowboy Junkies: Misguided Angel
- Richard Marx: Satisfied
- The Jeff Healey Band: Angel Eyes
- Bon Jovi: Lay Your Hands on Me
- Michael Morales: Who Do You Give Your Love To
- Tom Petty: I Won't Back Down
- Paula Abdul: Cold Hearted
- New Kids on the Block: I'll Be Loving You Forever
- Blue Rodeo: How Long
- Andrew Cash: Boomtown
- Dan Hill: Unborn Heart
- 10,000 Maniacs: Trouble Me
- The Grapes of Wrath: All the Things I Wasn't
- One 2 One: Do You Believe
- Waterfront: Cry
- Kon Kan: Harry Houdini
- Alannah Myles: Love Is
~~~~~
It's as if I knew instinctively that the Canadian music scene wasn't up to much as soon as we arrived back in Calgary. We were back from our year in England but I was in no hurry to tune into Video Hits on the CBC (although that could have been because my sister and I were disappointed to discover that Samantha Taylor was no longer hosting) nor Much Music (although the fact that we didn't have cable probably entered into that one) and didn't give any thought to giving a listen to the AM 106 Top 10 at 10. I had my vast collection of tapes brought over from the UK and that would do me for a while. I did continue to purchase cassettes but they were all throwbacks to my '88-'89 salad days for at least the next year. (While I often look back to the autumn of 1991 and my discovery of British punk, new wave and ska as my first foray into retro music - which eventually came to dominate my listening tastes as the mind-numbingly dull nineties progressed - it's likely that this post-Laindon period was where the past first became my present)
Of course I did hear what was going on but little of it did anything for me. The Canadian chart's overabundance of singles that had long since grown old and tired back in Britain certainly played a part. Songs like If You Don't Know Me by Now by Simply Red and Good Thing by Fine Young Cannibals were all right the first time round but I had no patience for them by this point. (Many people around me in both countries absolutely loved FYC but I'll probably always think of them as the first group I really tried and wanted to like but could never get into; they were the Pulp of their time) I was soon to discover that mediocrities were crossing the Atlantic with some success while most of my favourites ended up going nowhere. One of the best-remembered North American hits of this time was So Alive by Love & Rockets, one of those strange Thomas Dolby/When in Rome/Bush UK acts that failed at home but did well across the pond.
There are signs, however, that something's going on in the chart's lower reaches. 10,000 Maniacs and The Grapes of Wrath both appear with decent though unremarkable numbers but perhaps they indicate that Canadian and American indie music is on the upswing, which it was until grunge came along and ruined everything. And then there's Cowboy Junkies and their gorgeous signature song Misguided Angel. While they were always given ignorant praise from critics (the whole thing about them adding a gothic element to country music seems to forget that Hank Williams and the Louvin Brothers and Johnny Cash ARE gothic), there's no denying what a beautiful musical atmosphere they wrap around Margot Timmins' delicate vocal. Cowboy Junkies would go on to have a respectable career and deliver some absolute gems but they never could top this. Few could.
The last photo any of us took on English soil was snapped by my dad (appropriately given how often he was in charge of the camera; one of my favourites was taken in someplace like Snape Maltings or Safron Walden and it's of my mum and I looking at my sister who is stubbornly out of shot: the look of annoyance on our faces neatly mirrors that of the cameraman) and it was while we were waiting at the parking lot of our housing complex Mellow Purgess on the morning of our flight home. We were with our mass of luggage awaiting some sort of transport, though I can't remember if it was a cab or a bus nor can I recall if we were going directly to Gatwick or someplace else. Mum looks pleased with herself, Julie sports a neutral, it's-way-too-early-to-be-awake-let-alone-photographed visage and I appear to be a nanosecond away from tears.
A funny thing about that picture is how it's sort of a hybrid of myself from then and a year earlier. Although I am certainly taller, otherwise I look very much the same. I'm wearing the same Coca-Cola jean jacket that no one else thought was cool as well as the same Calgary Cannons baseball cap that I also wore when we arrived; only my prized pair of acid-wash nut-hugger jeans from the Ipswich market marks me as sartorially different from my younger self. (Aside from my school uniform, my wardrobe didn't change a whole lot over the course of our year in Britain. Pictures from our coach trip of Europe show me wearing the same Bermuda shorts/clam diggers that my mum bought me a year or two earlier and somehow I was still fitting into my Metro Toronto Zoo Giant Pandas t-shirt from our trip across Canada back in '86) The exact same photo could very easily have been taken back on August 19, 1988, my downcast expression and all.
The flight to Britain a year was overnight and, thus, we didn't arrive until August 20 but this was all August 4 and I was unprepared for the surreal experience of getting dressed in one country and undressing in another. (I've since crossed the International Dateline more times that I care to remember but that weird sensation never diminishes) The flight itself was in many ways just like it had been when we went to the UK: there was no movie, the music was boring and repetitive and we didn't get window seats. This time, however, my Grade 5 teacher and her family were sitting right behind us so at least we had other people to talk to.
Pathetically, I wanted to be wearing a pair of sunglasses for our arrival in Calgary. I thought it would be a cool touch for greeting our family at the airport. Any pretense of hot shotting was out the window as I was showered with hugs and kisses from family members who never hugged and kissed me. It was good to see everyone but I couldn't keep thinking that I didn't want to be there.
We were eventually invited to my aunt and uncle's place for a barbecue. (I whined and whined about having to go just as the jet lagged was fully kicking in but family from out of town had made the trip to meet us so we had no choice) As grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins amiably milled about, the four of us sat at a picnic table in my uncle's backyard, wholly unable to enjoy the hamburger or steak or whatever it was we'd been served. Few thoughts drifted through my head but those that did revolved around being taken back home or, failing that, the merciful hand of death.
That night I got settled into my old new room, laying down in my very old bed. And that was that.
~~~~~
young Paul's favourite: Wouldn't Change a Thing, even though it didn't make it over to Canada for some crazy reason
older Paul's retro pick: Misguided Angel
