It’s funny how a simple task can lead you down unexpected memory lanes. Recently, while I was wrestling with budget spreadsheets on my laptop in the quiet of my living room – the dog was too sensible to brave the cold outside – I stumbled upon a potent wave of nostalgia, all thanks to 1980 Songs. I was looking for some background music, having just sorted out a satellite radio issue, and my mind drifted to the decade of my youth: the 1980s. Peloton workouts have taught me that 80s music can be surprisingly motivating, so I decided to explore some 80s channels. That’s when I found “80s Chillpill.”
This channel, “80s Chillpill,” immediately struck a chord, though perhaps not in the way you might expect. It felt like the soundtrack to a slow dance at a middle school party – perfectly capturing that awkward yet sweet era. Songs like “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by REO Speedwagon, “Careless Whisper” by Wham!, “Holding Back the Years” by Simply Red, and “Lost in Love” by Air Supply filled the air. There was Kenny G’s instrumental classic, “Songbird,” Peter Cetera’s power ballad “Glory of Love” from The Karate Kid Part II, and UB40’s reggae-infused cover of “Red Red Wine.” Even Kenny Rogers made an appearance with duets like “Islands in the Stream” with Dolly Parton and “We’ve Got Tonight” with Sheena Easton. For anyone familiar with Philadelphia radio, it felt like tuning into the softer side of WSTW – a very specific vibe indeed.
What’s interesting is that these weren’t necessarily my favorite 1980 songs. I don’t think I owned any of these albums, or rather, cassettes back then (maybe Air Supply, don’t judge!). Some I liked, others were just… there. But asked to list my top 80s tracks, these wouldn’t make the cut. Yet, the wave of nostalgia was undeniable and incredibly specific. It’s the radio effect, I realized. While I had my own limited collection of music in the 80s, radio was the dominant force. Before MTV fully took over in the mid-80s, radio dictated the soundtrack of our lives.
It didn’t matter if I loved or just tolerated “Can’t Fight This Feeling”; radio played it relentlessly. Top 40 radio in the 80s was a constant (and notably, very white-dominated), so you listened to what was on, no customization needed. Radio was also much more local then, before corporate consolidation reshaped the landscape in the 90s. This constant exposure to 1980 songs, even the ones you weren’t crazy about, created a unique form of cultural and personal memory.
It makes you wonder, what’s the modern equivalent of this kind of musical nostalgia? Today’s teenagers will undoubtedly have their own songs that trigger similar feelings, but it’s harder to pinpoint what those might be. For me, it’s not always the big hits. Just the other day, I found myself humming the jingle from the local Van Scoy jewelry stores. It’s been around since the early 80s, starting with “I’m a lucky girl, hooray, oh boy!” because, of course, she got a diamond from Van Scoy. I used to find it incredibly annoying, but now, if you start singing it, I’ll enthusiastically join in. And I’m not alone; the internet confirms others share this bizarre nostalgia for a jingle.
The same thing happens with the theme music from Action News in Philadelphia. “Move closer to your world, my friend! Take a little bit of tiiiiiime!” Back then, did I care about this music? Of course not, it was just the news theme. But now, it’s become a cherished piece of cultural identity for those who grew up in Philly during that era. These seemingly insignificant pieces of music, these 1980 songs and jingles, have become powerful triggers.
This makes me think that nostalgia, often defined as a painful longing for the past, is actually two-fold. Firstly, it’s a longing for the things we genuinely loved: vacation spots, friends’ houses, favorite books, family dinners. But secondly, and perhaps more powerfully, it’s a visceral reaction to sounds (or sights or smells) deeply connected to a period of our lives. For me, these 1980 songs from “80s Chillpill” evoke adolescence and teenage years, the formation of my adult self and tastes, a time of less world-weariness despite the world’s problems.
Perhaps that’s the real appeal of 80s Chillpill and these types of 1980 songs. Because I often heard them passively, not by choice, they became associated with a vast range of experiences: sadness, happiness, boredom, excitement, loneliness, being with friends, car rides, time in my room, studying, just hanging out. Doing mundane things, but often in good company.
I remember a friend at a slumber party lying upside down on her bed, staring at a Duran Duran poster, and declaring, “Did you know Duran Duran spelled backward is Narud Narud?” My brain has clung to this utterly pointless fact. But it’s not about “Narud Narud” itself; it’s about the friends, the slumber party. Similarly, when Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” comes on, it’s not just about a fondness for the song. It’s a bittersweet longing for past versions of myself, my life, and all the people who were part of it – versions that no longer exist. These 1980 songs are more than just music; they are time capsules of feelings and memories.
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