Musical Messages Through Time
The goal of this series is simple: go back through the years and figure out what popular music was actually saying at the time. For each year, I take a group of notable albums and “shuffle the deck,” letting a handful of songs reveal themselves. From there, I organize them into three acts and break down what they’re communicating…individually and as a whole.
By the time I entered the military in 1984, I had already been engaged in what could generously be described as a six-year, highly dysfunctional relationship with alcohol. Marijuana, at least, was easy to part ways with, mainly because the Navy had strong opinions about it and the testing to back those opinions up. Alcohol, on the other hand, was not only permitted…it was practically part of the ecosystem. If anything, I had chosen an environment where my worst habit would feel right at home.
I didn’t even make it through basic training without it catching up to me, adding an extra two weeks to my stay, which I’m sure the Navy considered a generous extension of their hospitality.
Near the end of training, recruits are granted something called “uncontrolled liberty,” which sounds exactly like what it is: a reward, a test, and, in my case, a predictable mistake. Having not been sober for six consecutive weeks in years, I approached this brief return to freedom with my usual level of restraint, which is to say, none at all.
That night ended with me making the questionable decision to wake up a fellow recruit I already found irritating. His response – spitting directly in my face – was efficient, if not particularly diplomatic. I raised a fist, not so much to throw a punch as to signal that I was considering it, but that was enough. The next thing I knew, I was being escorted, firmly and without ceremony, to the quarterdeck in a chokehold. What followed was described as “motivation,” though the delivery method suggested a slightly different interpretation.
When it was over, I was reassigned to another company and given two additional weeks to reflect on my life choices, this time with a calf swollen to twice its normal size, which made reflection less philosophical and more physical. Ironically, my next opportunity for “uncontrolled liberty” was spent entirely in bed, voluntarily. Growth comes in many forms.
I did eventually graduate and was sent to Gulfport, Mississippi, for electrician training…yes, the very path I had chosen earlier, despite having been offered several alternatives. In hindsight, this wasn’t so much a passionate decision as it was a default setting. When imagination fails, familiarity tends to step in.
At this point, I made a brief return to something resembling discipline. Having flirted with being a good Christian in my teenage years, I decided the best way to avoid alcohol was to avoid everyone drinking it…which, in the military, is roughly equivalent to avoiding oxygen. I kept to myself, read the Bible, and did my best to stay out of trouble. This, naturally, made me a target.
My classmates dubbed me “Burger King,” a reference to the slogan at the time, “Have it your way.” Apparently, choosing not to drink qualified as radical individualism. It didn’t take long before I decided to demonstrate that I could, in fact, drink with the best of them, which, in retrospect, was not the most productive use of my proving energy. Still, there were no further disciplinary issues, and I completed the program without incident. Progress, in this case, was defined as not making things worse.
In my previous post, I mentioned that An Officer and a Gentleman played a role in my decision to enlist. Looking back, it may have done more than that…it may have provided the script. There’s a moment in the film where Richard Gere’s character, on the verge of being expelled, breaks down and says, “I got nowhere else to go.” My version wasn’t nearly as cinematic – no dramatic lighting, no swelling music – but the sentiment was identical. I could have walked away after my run-in with alcohol, but the truth was simple: I didn’t have a better option. So I stayed.
The songs that surfaced for 1984 seem to exist at a similar turning point. The struggle for control doesn’t disappear, it evolves. Power dynamics don’t collapse; they become more visible, more balanced, and more deliberately navigated. No one is pretending anymore. And once the illusion fades, what’s left isn’t freedom…but negotiation.
ACT I – The Performance of Desire
1. “Material Girl” – Madonna
2. “The Glamorous Life” – Sheila E.
3. “Smooth Operator” – Sade
Incredibly, six of the nine songs from 1984 are performed by women, something that would have felt almost unthinkable just a few years prior. But what’s even more striking is how they’re presented. This isn’t imitation. This isn’t retaliation. Rather than behaving like men once did, these voices sound like they’ve studied the system, understood it, and are now choosing how – and when – to engage with it.
The year opens with “Material Girl”, and there’s nothing subtle about it. “If they don’t give me proper credit, I just walk away…”. Madonna isn’t lamenting how things work, she’s stating her conditions within it. Right or wrong becomes secondary. The point is ownership. This is what it costs. Take it or leave it. It’s less a confession than a contract.
Next, “The Glamorous Life” appears to double down on the surface-level materialism, but there’s a subtle shift underneath. Yes, the imagery is flashy. Yes, the lifestyle is elevated. But the requirement isn’t transactional in the same way…it’s emotional. “Love is heaven sent…it’s glamorous”. Which is almost inconvenient. Because now the system isn’t just about exchange, it’s about something that can’t be reliably negotiated. The material world offers consistency; love does not. So instead of retaliating against failed relationships, Sheila E. simply sidesteps them.
Independence isn’t framed as empowerment for its own sake, it’s more like a practical adjustment: If it’s not real, it’s not worth the effort. Not bitter. Not angry. Just…efficient.
By the time we reach “Smooth Operator”, the perspective shifts again…this time outward. Where Madonna set terms and Sheila E. set boundaries, Sade simply observes. “No need to ask…he’s a smooth operator”. There’s no urgency here. No attempt to intervene, correct, or even fully judge. Just quiet recognition. The game is understood so completely that it no longer requires commentary.
And that may be the most telling shift of all. Because once you fully understand the system, you don’t always need to react to it. Sometimes you just…watch.
By the end of Act I, the tone is controlled, composed, and unmistakably intentional. Desire is negotiated. Independence is chosen. Behavior is recognized for what it is. And perhaps most notably: No one is pretending to understand anymore. Which doesn’t necessarily make things better…but it does make them clearer.
ACT II – Control, Power & Emotional Strategy
4. “Self-Control” – Laura Branigan
5. “Wrapped Around Your Finger” – The Police
6. “Love is a Battlefield” – Pat Benatar
If Act I establishes that the rules of the game are understood, Act II shows what happens when people begin to actively use them. This is where relationships stop being passive experiences and start becoming strategic interactions.
In “Self Control”, the tension is internal. The awareness is there – the danger, the temptation – but so is restraint. The conflict isn’t between two people yet. It’s between impulse and discipline. That restraint doesn’t hold indefinitely.
By “Wrapped Around Your Finger”, control shifts outward. What was once internal becomes interpersonal. Power is no longer just managed, it’s applied. The relationship becomes less about connection and more about positioning. Who leads, who follows, and who realizes it first. And eventually, the subtlety disappears altogether.
“Love Is a Battlefield” removes any remaining ambiguity. What may have once been misunderstood as romance is now clearly defined: conflict, negotiation, and survival. There’s no illusion left to maintain. Both sides understand the stakes, and neither is pretending otherwise.
If Act I asked, “What are the rules?” Act II answers, “How do you use them?” Because once awareness is established, the dynamic changes. Control becomes intentional. Emotion becomes calculated. And relationships begin to look less like connection…and more like something to navigate carefully, or risk losing altogether.
ACT III – From Control to Consequence
7. “Drive” – The Cars
8. “Private Dancer” – Tina Turner
9. “Downbound Train” – Bruce Springsteen
By the end of Act II, the rules are no longer in question, and neither is the outcome. Control has been asserted. Positions have been established. The emotional battlefield has been clearly defined. And for a moment, it almost feels like progress. After all, clarity is supposed to help. Understanding the system is supposed to give you an advantage. Knowing how to negotiate relationships is supposed to lead somewhere better.
But something doesn’t quite follow through. Because once everything becomes intentional, every move calculated, every reaction anticipated, the energy begins to shift. What once felt like tension now feels like effort. What once felt like passion starts to resemble maintenance. And eventually, even the conflict loses its edge. Not because its been resolved…but because its been understood too well to sustain itself.
Because once the game is fully understood…the only question left is whether it was ever worth playing at all.
Leave a Reply