Lost but not forgotten

The perceived wisdom is that the 1980s was a decade of greed, the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation, and somewhat insipid pop music. Some of that may have been true, but to dismiss the 1980s so readily would be wrong, which is the underlying premise of a tremendous 63-track compilation from Gary Crowley, the DJ of whom you can safely say knows what he's talking about when it comes to the era.

In 1980, and at the age of just 19, Crowley became the UK's youngest network radio DJ when he was hired by London's Capital Radio to inject some 'street' into its programming. Not long before, he'd been behind The Modern World, a fanzine that embraced the-then punk and New Wave scene, literally blagging interviews from a phone box with the likes of Joe Strummer and Paul Weller (famously calling the Modfather at home in Woking while still living with his parents).

Today, at 57 and infuriatingly youthful still, Crowley is no less enthusiastic about the era in which he made his bones, which is what makes the release of Gary Crowley's Lost 80s such a joy to indulge. It's not an inflated version of the usual compilations of the period, but a full-on labour of love that draws out delicious obscurities of the time by acts both familiar and less so, creating a mosaic of the 1980s that truly demonstrates that, after all, the decade wasn't all about Chris De Bergh, puffball skirts and poodle rock bands. "Let me just state for the record, you’ll find no Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, Duran Duran, Dire Straits or the like appearing on these discs," says Gary, though not that any of those would necessarily be bad, it's just that they're too obvious. Even the mighty Prince. There is clearly a higher purpose to what Crowley has compiled: "Spread over these four CDs, I’ve collected together the best (in my personal opinion) of the guitar bands, the dance acts and the synth groups that made up the soundtrack of that gloriously thrilling decade for me and my friends." That is reflected in the richness of the track selection: Wham! and Culture Club might find themselves into the package, but not songs you'd expect. Some expert curation has gone on here, even sleuthing to unearth obscure but equally vital contributions to the era. "The 80s (and especially the first part) was an amazing time for music,"says Gary. "It was a mad, fast, kaleidoscopic rollercoaster ride where the chancers taking your money not only walked the walk; they backed it up with innovative, amazing tunes that changed the way music was made forever. That’s certainly how I remember it."

And there lies his challenge to perceptions that the 70s and its denim-clad progressiveness gave way to overtly commercialism in the decade that followed. Listened to without the distraction of Top Of The Pops repeats or MTV clips, Crowley's Lost 80s presents the era from where bands were doing something fun, rich and different. The four CDs (a vinyl version is also available) are themed, with the first, 'Jangly Jangly' devoted to the guitar pop of The Pale Fountains, Haircut 100, Aztec Camera, The Bluebells, Prefab Sprout, the brilliant Strawberry Switchblade and Dream Academy, as well as acts you may not recall so readily like The Suede Crocodiles and April Showers. Disc 2 draws more eclectically on post-punk acts like Bow Wow Wow, The Redskins and Theatre Of Hate, as well as including a storming track from JoBoxers and Carmel's More More More proving that she did it best long before Duffy did much the same. There are also cuts from The Associates, Spandau Ballet, The Kane Gang, Altered Images and Depeche Mode, but none that you or I would have chosen. And all the better for it.

I guess the whole point of this compilation is to demonstrate that the 80s weren't one thing or another,  but that lost down the decade's nooks and crannies are gems from across the spectrum. Thus, Disc 3 leads off with Wham!'s A Ray Of Sunshine, Grandmaster Flash's The Adventures Of Grandmaster Flash On The Wheels Of Steel, and Tom Tom Club's lively Genius Of Love, adding in rarities from Blue Rondo A La Turk, Pigbag, Funkapolitan and The Staple Singers. The club DJ in Crowley comes out in the fourth and final disc, which represents one of the distinctive mediums of the 80s - the 12-inch remix. Here, you'll soak up extended versions of Bananarama's Aie A Mwana, the brilliant Out Come The Freaks from Was (Not Was) and Fun Boy Three's The Alibi. Some of the quotes from Nick Heyward, Bananarama's Sarah Dallin, Gary Kemp and Clare Grogan make the package's sleeve notes as fun to read as listening to the songs they refer to.

It's here that I must declare my vested interest in this box set. Gary Crowley's evening show on Capital Radio was essential listening for the teenage me as I slaved over O-level homework and A-level revision. And as I became more and more fixed on becoming a music journalist myself, at the age of 16 I arranged an interview with Crowley himself for a portfolio of sample articles I was putting together to hopefully persuade potential employers. After the interview, Gary recommended I talk to the NME, which resulted in me getting the first - and probably last - live review of a Phil Collins gig in the paper. That was enough to send me on my way. I bring this up, not out of slavish gratitude or sycophantic hero worship. Without embarrassing the man too much, Crowley is something of a national treasure. A wonderful 12-minute mini-documentary, The Life, Music & Hairstyles of Gary Crowley, about him recently made its debut on YouTube and is well worth a watch, not just for the haircuts but for the impressive parade of legends he's interviewed for TV and radio (and continues to do so with his delightful My London series on BBC London). It's what makes Gary Crowley's Lost 80s work so well: he was there, DJing at The Wag or Bogarts, or spinning the wheels of steel on Wham!'s tours. And even now, he's every bit the enthusiastic live wire for good music that he ever was. And damn good fun to know.