Johnny Sharp explores the perils and the payoffs of pop's paradigm shifts before bringing you 20 albums from artists whose bold, about-turns in musical style just have to be heard
If it ain't broke, so the maxim goes, don't fix it. But no artist worth their garlands ever paid much heed to that way of thinking - with a few honourable exceptions such as The Ramones. Nonetheless, most musicians prefer evolution to revolution, letting their approach to their work develop naturally as the muse dictates, sudden changes in style only running the risk of alienating fans.
Although a fixture of The Hollywood punk scene in The late '70S and early '80S, the all-female quintet also had a pop sensibility that would see their debut album topping the charts. First, however, they needed to find a label that would let them record it...
If women face all-too-familiar obstacles to achieving success in music these days, many of those barriers have at least been broken down over the years by trailblazing female artists. One such pioneering act is undoubtedly The Go-Go's, who burst out of the Los Angeles punk scene in the late 1970s and set a template for pop punk that still endures.
The Milwaukee trio's 1983 self-titled debut album 'reinvented rock 'n' roll', according to one critic, and has since sold over one million copies despite never troubling the charts. Its secret? Brilliantly simple songs and the evergreen theme of teenage angst
If you wanted to fill a compilation album with songs of adolescent angst, you wouldn't have too much trouble, particularly if you're a fan of guitar-based rock music. Call it 'Teenage Kicks', start with the title track, and off you go. But what would you pick for its album equivalent? Is there a long-playing record that sums up the experience of being a disaffected, angry and unloved teenager in the modern world, particularly the male of that particular species?
Topping the UK charts upon its 1981 release, the Sheffield band’s debut album melded string arrangements with disco and funk, plus some Trevor Horn production magic. The result? Ten peerless pop tunes that looked at love through a cinematic lens...
Like a lot of bright, shiny things, ABC and their defining debut album, The Lexicon Of Love, were created out of something a good deal less glamorous. The grim-up-north narrative that is wheeled out as a backdrop to so much provincial punk and post-punk can be overstated, but there’s no doubt that when Stephen Singleton and Mark White’s avant-garde electronic outfit Vice Versa morphed into ABC with help from former fanzine writer turned frontman Martin Fry, they wanted to offer an escapist vision of pop for trying, recessionary times. They also rejected old school approaches to music-making.
Arriving just a year after their 1986 debut Please, the British electro-pop duo's second album solidified their chart-topping status, thanks to a bigger production influenced by ZZ Top, a guest appearance from Dusty Springfield, and some classic tunes...
It's a malaise almost as old as pop music itself. Second album syndrome – the crisis faced by an artist writing the follow-up to a hit debut LP, when they realise that after having had their whole lives to come up with the contents of their first offering to the world, they now only have a few months to rustle up a fresh batch of equally strong material for the follow-up.
A spot of R&R in Jamaica, followed by a lakeside recording set-up back in Blighty, was all it took for a disillusioned John Martyn to recapture his music mojo. The resulting album, released in 1977, mixed folk, electronica and the sound of geese...
For much of the '70s it was customary for bands or recording artists to retire to a rural bolthole for a spell, hoping the country air would help them get their head together. Disillusioned and burnt out from recording and touring, in 1976 John Martyn tried this himself. But in his case the destination was another country, halfway across the world.
Released in 1987, with a new producer in tow, this album saw the one-time post-punks leaning into radio-friendly rock, albeit without airbrushing their left-field instincts. The result was the beginning of a decade of commercial and critical success for the group
There comes a time in every band's career when the only way is pop. Having slowly built a loyal cult fanbase and a burgeoning critical reputation on the back of three albums (and an early EP) that intertwined artful post-punk and lopsided, Paisley Underground-adjacent guitar rock, by 1987 R.E.M. were ready to paint with broader strokes, albeit while retaining a pronounced polemical edge and one foot firmly in an angular, left-field musical lineage.
This 1985 album from the Manchester-based outfit proved they were more than just a singles machine, and cemented both their fusion of rock and electronica and their unconventional approach – right down to putting the drummer on the front cover...
It's hardly surprising that a band formed from the ashes of tragedy should take a while to truly find their own musical identity. But after singer Ian Curtis's suicide brought Joy Division to a premature end in May 1980, New Order had shown intermittent moments of brilliance on a string of singles, but not across a whole album.
For the follow-up to their debut record The Hurting, the philosophically inclined pop duo built a 24-track studio and battled their label's desire for a commercial synth sound. The eight-track album that resulted put them in a prime position to rule the world...
No pain, no gain may be a familiar mantra across the arts, but it's hard to imagine an act today weaving pop gold from the teachings of psychotherapy. Yet Tears For Fears managed to top the charts with not one but two collections of songs based around such themes.
When five young friends from Athens, Georgia began jamming on borrowed instruments and writing songs about lobsters and mystical planets, they didn't imagine it would lead to an album deal with Warner Brothers and global fame... or the attention of John Lennon
Some bands are born great. Some achieve greatness. And some have greatness thrust upon them. So (nearly) wrote William Shakespeare in Twelfth Night, but he probably hadn't spent the evening sharing a giant flaming volcano cocktail at Hunan Chinese restaurant in Athens, Georgia. So maybe that's why the formation of The B-52's (or B-52s, as it has been since 2008) seemed to fit none of those three headings very tidily.