My brothers and I spent the summer of ’84 in Germany and returned to school that fall with stacks of the then cresting sound of synthpop recordings. It all seems like a dream (or a John Hughes movie) now, but there was a time when make-up wearing boys with sculpted hair ruled the airwaves. The only concert I ever saw at Maple Leaf Gardens was headlined by Howard Jones. The girl I should have had a crush on the summer I interned at Harbourfront was enamoured by a visiting synthesist giving workshops to the lost tourists. She sang into his sampler and stood giddily by his side. Some scary seniors at my high school performed on talent night with vocoders and analog keyboards. My little brother collected Korg catalogs and spent seemingly large amounts of money on drum machines that soon gathered dust and were sold (only to be pronounced “vintage” in a couple years time). I fell in love with punk rock and learned to appreciate electronics again years later with the momentum of techno. I still can’t work up an appreciation of the Human League but I like electro and am not embarrassed by my Switched On Bach album anymore. In fact, I’m hip! Gary Flanagan’s zine might claim to be about electronic music, but this issue at least is dominated by the love of ’80s synthpop. Images in Vogue are the cover stars, Gary Numan and Visage are namedropped, Nitzer Ebb is featured in the “Classic Album Corner.” I never went back to my Blancmange albums, but for those of you who did this buzz is for you. (TD)
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