The Romantics drop a debut on January 4, 1980


A rather ordinary, yet profoundly significant, thing happened on the fourth day of January, in the year of nineteen hundred and eighty. 

A record was released.

Now, a record, for those of you born after the advent of digital downloads and the subsequent existential dread of owning nothing tangible, was a round, flat, black disc made of vinyl. It spun. It made noises. Sometimes, if you were lucky, those noises coalesced into something approaching "music."

For several years prior, the musical landscape had been dominated by Progressive Rock (songs so long they required their own zip codes) and Disco (a genre based entirely on the belief that white polyester could solve human suffering). The Romantics looked at this situation, adjusted their incredibly narrow neckties, and decided to do something quite radical: they played songs that were three minutes long, contained three chords, and possessed a level of energy usually reserved for toddlers who have discovered a six-pack of JOLT Cola.

The band in question – Wally Palmar, Jimmy Marinos, Mike Skill, and Rich Cole – had formed on Valentine's Day 1977. But after a three year wait, they had to record their eponymous debut in just three weeks. The resulting 37-minute recording was the sound of a perfectly ordinary Friday night, distilled into grooves. The sound of youthful exuberance clashing delightfully with a nascent sense of rock-and-roll swagger.

This album, you see, was a testament to the utterly baffling human capacity for taking something simple and making it utterly compelling. "What I Like About You," the hit single from the disc, is a curious piece of sonic engineering. It is a song that technically ended in 1980 but, due to a glitch in the space-time continuum (or perhaps just heavy rotation at every wedding reception in the known galaxy), has never actually stopped playing. Somewhere, in a dimension composed entirely of red leather suits, that harmonica solo is still going. And it's not even the band's best song - that would be "Talking in Your Sleep," still three years away from materializing.

Speaking of red leather suits...The album cover itself remains one of the great mysteries of the 20th century. It features the band dressed in matching red leather suits. To wear such an outfit requires a level of confidence usually found only in French emperors or people who have forgotten how to sweat.

The Romantics (1980) was a reminder that you don't need a double-neck guitar or a concept album about a brick wall to make people happy. You just need a backbeat, a catchy hook, and the stubborn refusal to admit that the 1960s ever ended.

If you are looking for a way to celebrate this anniversary, I suggest you find a copy of the record—or its digital equivalent, which is significantly harder to use as a frisbee—and turn it up until your neighbors start to question your sanity. It is the only logical response. For 37 minutes, it’ll be January 1980 again, the red leather will be shiny and new, and the shadows won't seem quite so long.

Location: Detroit, MI, USA

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