1989: Shake It Off

Cosmic Thing (1989), by the B-52s

Welcome to the 1989 project, where each month we’ll start with a Taylor Swift song from her 2014 album, 1989, and leap from that to music that was released or charted in the year 1989.

I told you my “Shake It Off” story in our introductory post, and even if you aren’t a Swiftie, you have almost certainly heard her defiant anthem about dealing with haters (who hate-hate-hate-hate…)

But I keep cruisin'
Can't stop, won't stop movin'
It's like I got this music in my mind
Sayin', "It's gonna be alright"

“Shake It Off” - T.S.

In 1989, I was new to two things: driving and listening to the music my peers were listening to. When I bought music, I often didn’t know what I was in for. Was it cutting edge or old hat? Did it fit my “image”? I didn’t care about any of that. I was following the muse, and she led me here with the mystical invocation:

“Gyrate ‘til you’ve had your fill! Just like a pneumatic drill!”

Now, here is a band that gives a good name to feel-good pop. For someone who enjoys deep thinking and analysis, as I do, you might not expect me to feel such a powerful connection to this band, and this album in particular. And you might worry I will over-scrutinize or read something into it that isn’t there. If I had to do all of the heavy lifting, I might do that. But…if you aren’t familiar with the history of the B-52s, Pe Dupre of

The Twelve Inch (Disco/80s)

has got you covered in glitter, baby:

Dirty Back Road: How the B-52’s Took a Detour from Athens to New York and Rewired the Sound of the ‘80s

The deepest gift the B-52s gave to me, a straight, cisgendered kid from suburban Arizona, was a healthy idea of what queerness was back when we were just learning how to talk about it. To borrow from Pe Dupre:

The B-52’s redefined queerness in music by fully embracing their eccentricity and creating a space for self-expression. They showed that queerness could be celebrated in a way that was fun, joyous, and accessible, helping to normalize LGBTQ+ identities in pop culture.

By “sneaking queerness into the mainstream” without alienating wider audiences, the B-52’s became trailblazers for future generations of queer artists. Even though they never considered themselves a “queer band,” their legacy continues to inspire today’s queer pop stars and activists. Kate Pierson : “We just thought of ourselves as just plain queer, as in eccentric”

I have an unreliable memory¹ of seeing Fred Schneider being asked in an interview whether he was gay. I had seen the way George Michael had been asked that question a few years before, and how Michael Stipe of R.E.M. had dodged it with what boiled down to an airy, artistic “nunya”—but Fred answered in a way that only Fred could.

His eyes popped, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he bellowed, “BWAAAH-Ha-ha-ha!” before pulling back into a thoughtful pose and asking the interviewer, “Would it matter?”

That’s wisdom, no matter how weird the package it comes in.

Not only did Cosmic Thing bring us wisdom in a party, they brought prophecy:

Channel Z's all static all day forever
Time to open up your windows
Let in better weather
Channel Z's all static all day forever
Time to take disinformation
And shove it in the shredder!

Remember, most of us didn’t even know there was an Internet, yet, so the B-52s’ vision of static and hamburger ads bombarding us was coming from the everyday advertising of plain old TV and radio. And from the odd Philip K. Dick short story.

The Disco Legacy

The B-52s weren’t quite any one thing. They were always something else. When they started in 1979, the popularity of disco was ebbing, and their sound has always been described as New Wave. But I can’t shake the notion that the “Disco Demolition” that took place in 1979 had an impact on them. There was a definite culture war component to the cries of “disco sucks” that I heard when I was growing up, and I don’t think it’s an accident that ten years after the events in Chicago, Nile Rodgers was chosen to produce on Cosmic Thing.²

Had I been asked in my teens, I would not have said that The B-52s were a substantial band, because they were and are a constant party. And to me, with my upbringing, a party is by definition a frivolous thing without any lasting value. I always assumed that “disco sucks” was a comment on the vapid party culture of the 1970s, which had shocked and horrified my grandparents’ generation. And the B-52s feel now like a commanding retort to that assertion.

Thanks to the heavy rotation of Cosmic Thing in my tape deck for three summers in a row, I came to appreciate the nuance in what they were doing. They weren’t preaching, they weren’t lecturing. No deep thoughts were spelled out, and no one was trying to impress the listener; there was just a banging groove and a bunch of friends being themselves.

Not to mention some of the best road music available in that decade.

The Karaoke Curse

…But there is the small matter of “Love Shack” to contend with.

I sympathize with those who spend time in karaoke bars or who work in wedding bands and complain about the inevitable performance of “Love Shack” by people too drunk to find the floor. Even Fred Schneider sympathizes, reportedly.

In a recent interview with NME, Schneider revealed that he never expected 'Love Shack' to be such a huge hit, and that he finds it annoying to hear it at every event he attends. He said, "It was just a happy accident that ‘Love Shack’ finally became a hit, and now you have to go to every damn wedding and hear it!"

~ B-52s' Fred Schneider no fan of karaoke 'Love Shack'

He apparently jumps on stage if he hears someone butchering his song, and gives a proper performance to rescue both the would-be singer and the audience.

Now, I’m going to leave you with that proper performance, just because the immortal Sara Lee appears, playing bass (right behind Fred), and I would be remiss if I didn’t give a shout out to one of the first bass players I knew by name.

Tying all of this back to our gracious hostess, Taylor Swift, I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that a lot of what I find appealing about her music is related to what I hear in Cosmic Thing. I have referred several times during this series to substance or depth that I look for in music that isn’t always there for me in a pop album. But those two qualities are not necessary to make art that has meaning to someone. Sometimes, simply experiencing joy is all the meaning a work of art needs.

So next time you hear a hater start to hate-hate-hate, Shake That Alien Thing!

1. I say “unreliable memory” because I can’t find a clip of any such interview, and I told this story a thousand times, which means I probably embellished wildly. Apologies to Fred if I embellished too much, but thank you for being the touchstone for an important lesson!

2. Don Was produced four of the album’s ten tracks.