Welcome in, everyone. We are so thrilled you're
joining us today. Absolutely. You are here because
you love to peel back the layers of things you
thought you knew, or maybe, you know, you're
just looking to discover something completely
off your radar. Yeah, you've got that natural
curiosity. Exactly. And we've put together a
deep dive today that is going to be incredibly
fun, a little bit weird, and surprisingly fascinating.
It really is, because for today's mission, we
are extracting the absolute best, most compelling
nuggets from a wikipedia article that details
this very specific almost forgotten slice of
1980s music history right we are looking at the
1988 funk rock single rev it up oh man yeah by
jerry harrison performed with his band casual
gods and we're gonna dig into how a track actually
comes together the nuts and bolts of it exactly
we'll look at the physical spaces that shape
our art how a song finds its audience and the
downright bizarre journey it takes along the
way and trust me you are gonna to want to hear
this one because what we have here is this incredible
juxtaposition. Oh, the contrast is wild. It really
is. We're talking about a song that rocketed
up rock charts globally, like a massive international
hit. Yeah. But it wasn't born in some sleek,
you know, million dollar Los Angeles studio with
champagne and ocean views. Not at all. No, it
was born out of a family visit and it was recorded
in an actual literal underground bomb shelter.
Okay, let's unpack this. Right, so to really
understand how unusual this is... We have to
travel back to the mid -1980s and look at the
landscape of pop and rock music at that time.
Set the scene for us. Well, Jerry Harrison was
an incredibly busy guy. He was the keyboardist
and guitarist for Talking Heads. Which is huge.
Oh, massive. They were, at that time, one of
the most critically acclaimed and influential
bands on the planet. I mean, they were coming
off huge successes, heavy touring, deeply complex
recording sessions. It's a whirlwind. Exactly.
But right in the middle of all that momentum,
you know, life happens. to take a break yeah
so he leaves the bustling highly competitive
state -of -the -art music scene of new york city
and he returns to his hometown of milwaukee wisconsin
Which is such a grounded reason to step away
from the limelight. It really is. I mean, he's
not going on some extravagant, highly publicized
spiritual retreat in the desert, right? He's
going home to Wisconsin to support his mother.
Yeah, it's a very human starting point. It totally
is. But obviously, a musician of that caliber
still needs an outlet. You can't just turn that
off. Right. So he's in Milwaukee. The creative
itch is clearly still there. And he starts asking
around for a place to play. What does he actually
find in Milwaukee? Well, he meets this young
group of local musicians and basically asks them
a simple question. He says, where is the best
recording studio in the city? Naturally. And
they point him toward a guy named David Vartanian.
Now, serendipitously, Harrison actually knew
Vartanian from his childhood. No way. Yeah. So
there's this immediate, unexpected hometown connection
that instantly lowers the stakes. It creates
this very comfortable dynamic right off the bat.
That makes total sense. But the actual studio
space Vartanian was running, that is where the
story takes a really sharp deviation from normal
music industry practices. Let's talk about that
space. Because Vartanian agrees to rent Harrison
the studio. But this isn't some soundproofed
room overlooking the Milwaukee skyline, is it?
Not even close. Vartanian had built his recording
studio inside an underground bomb shelter. A
literal Cold War era bunker. An actual bunker.
Yes. Let's just think about the logistics of
that for a second. Yeah. You've got this rock
star fresh out of the New York scene stepping
down into a subterranean concrete relic. Yeah,
just climbing down into the earth. What does
that actually do to the recording process? Because
I have to imagine the acoustics down there were
completely wild. Well, the acoustics are a huge
part of the story. Yeah. Think about it. When
you build a recording studio in a normal building,
you spend... Tens of thousands of dollars on
soundproofing. Right. The floating floors, the
acoustic foam. Exactly. Double -paned glass.
All of it. All to keep the noise of the outside
world out and the noise of the music in? Sure.
Well, a bomb shelter already does that perfectly
by design. You have feet of solid concrete and
earth surrounding you. It is total... Absolute
isolation. You go down into the earth, the heavy
steel door shuts and it's just you and the music.
But and here's the catch. Concrete also creates
a very specific natural reverberation. Because
it's so hard and reflective. Right. It bounces
sound waves around in a way that is harsh, it's
bright, and it's incredibly difficult to control
unless you really know what you're doing. So
it forces you to adapt. You can't just rely on
standard studio tricks. You really have to play
the room itself. What's fascinating here is how
much that specific restrictive environment seemingly
shaped the entire project. This wasn't just a
quick one -off demo session. Oh, really? No.
Almost the entirety of Harrison's second solo
album, Casual Gods, was recorded right there.
They're in that bunker. The whole album. Almost
all of it. To give you a sense of the contrast,
out of the whole album, only one single track,
a song called A .K .A. Love, was recorded back
in New York City at Sigma Sound Studios. Okay,
I've heard of Sigma Sound. That's a pretty legendary
place, right? It is legendary. Sigma Sound was
famous for pioneering the slick, lush Philadelphia
soul sound, and later it became a massive hub
for pristine pop and disco. Oh, wow. Yeah, it's
top of the line, spacious, just pristine. So
you have one track recorded in this cathedral
of polished pop, and then the rest of the sonic
foundation of the Casual Gods record is cooked
up in a subterranean, highly restricted Milwaukee
bunker. That is quite the sonic whiplash. It
really highlights... it's the idea that limitations
often breed the best creativity. You don't always
need the most expensive room in the world to
capture magic. Sometimes you just need a space
that forces you to focus entirely on the raw
energy of the performance. And the raw energy
they captured on Rev It Up is potent. I was looking
into the genre classifications, and while it's
technically labeled as funk rock, Harrison himself
described the song as sounding like an Eddie
Cochran track. Which is an amazing reference.
Right. For those listening, Eddie Cochran is
1950s rockabilly. He's all about that driving,
undeniable, almost rebellious guitar energy.
Think of songs like Summertime Blues. Yeah, just
straight ahead power. But how do you take that
raw 50s rock energy and filter it through an
80s funk rock lens while you're standing down
in a bunker? That fusion comes directly from
the people in the room, the primary guitar riff,
the engine that really drives the song and gives
it that Cochran -esque forward momentum that
wasn't just Harrison sitting alone with a notepad.
How did it happen? It came out of a spontaneous
jam session with Alex Weir. Okay, who exactly
is Alex Weir for those who might not know the
deep cuts of 80s funk? Oh, Alex Weir is an incredibly
accomplished rhythm guitarist. He's best known
for his work with the American funk band the
Brothers Johnson. Yeah. And he also toured extensively
with Talking Heads. So Weir brings this elite...
highly syncopated funk sensibility to the table.
Oh, I see. So you have, we're locking in with
Harrison, trading ideas back and forth, and they
just start building out these riffs together,
finding that perfect pocket between rock power
and funk groove. So who else did he bring down
into this bunker? Was it just local Milwaukee
guys or did he fly in heavy hitters? Oh, he brought
in a staggering roster. It is a genuine all -star
lineup of session musicians and absolute legends.
Really? Like who? Well, you've got Ernie Brooks
and John Seeger co -writing the track with Harrison.
Okay. You've got Chris Spedding laying down the
bass. Arlene Holmes is providing vocals. And
then just casually playing keyboards, you have
the absolute legend, Bernie Worrell. Bernie Worrell,
the mastermind behind the Parliament Funkadelic
sound. Exactly. Bernie Worrell is one of the
most important figures in the history of funk
music. Absolutely. His use of the Minimoog synthesizer
basically defined the P -Funk sound. He also
played heavily with Talking Heads, which is the
direct connection here. That makes sense. But
just picture this absurdly talented collective
of funk and rock heavyweights, guys who are used
to playing stadiums and massive theaters, all
jammed into a Wisconsin bomb shelter. laying
down this complex, highly textured groove. It's
a phenomenal visual. Just the sheer volume of
talent in that tiny concrete room. It's incredible.
But from what I understand, after they build
this incredibly complex, tight, collaborative
funk rock instrumental, Harrison takes the lyrics
in a completely different direction. He really
does. Because he doesn't go esoteric or abstract,
which he easily could have done given his avant
-garde background with talking heads. No, he
doesn't do that at all. When it comes time to
write the words, he leans into the most familiar,
classic, almost cliche Americana topic imaginable.
The lyrics are essentially just about a boy and
a girl driving in a car. It is the most straight
down the middle rock and roll trope you can find.
It's Chuck Berry. It's Bruce Springsteen. Rev
it up. A fast car and a girl. It's so intentionally
simple. If we connect this to the bigger picture,
this is a masterclass in pop songwriting psychology.
How so? Pairing a highly complex, fiercely collaborative
funk groove with a lyrical concept that is universally
understood and instantly accessible is a proven
recipe for a hit. Oh, that makes total sense.
Right. If the musical bed is challenging, highly
textured, and rhythmically dense, giving the
listener a simple, relatable, lyrical anchor
allows them to latch on to the song immediately.
You don't want to make the listener work too
hard on both fronts. Yeah, you don't want to
exhaust them. Exactly. The groove makes their
body move, but the lyrics make it easy for their
brain to process and remember. Here's where it
gets really interesting. Because if you think
a boy and a girl in a car is a straightforward
visual, wait until we talk about how they actually
promoted this thing. Oh boy. The music video
for Rev It Up is a piece of late 80s surrealism.
It was directed by Harrison himself, produced
by Bell One Productions, and filmed in New York.
Yeah. But they didn't film a cool couple driving
a vintage Mustang down the highway. Oh, no. The
video features actual babies hanging out at a
gritty biker bar riding around on big wheels.
It is spectacularly absurd. Let me just ask you,
as someone who studies this era, was that some
deep avant -garde artistic statement? Or were
they just trying to make something weird enough
to cut for the noise and get MTV's attention?
It's a bit of both, but mostly it's a reaction
to the era. you know the late 1980s was the absolute
peak of the mtv generation and Rock videos at
the time were incredibly self -serious. You had
hair metal bands with giant pyrotechnics, wind
machines, and lots of macho posturing. A lot
of brooding into the camera. Exactly. So by putting
toddlers in leather jackets at a dive bar, Harrison
is completely undercutting the seriousness of
that rock star posturing. It highlights a real
sense of playfulness and irreverence. He's basically
saying, hey, we made this incredible groove,
but we don't take ourselves too seriously. It's
brilliant and it's weird. Yeah. And speaking
of late 80s, we have to talk about how this music
was physically released to the public. Yes. 1988
was such a chaotic, wildly transitional time
for physical media. Mm hmm. Record labels were
essentially throwing everything at the wall to
see what consumers actually wanted to buy. That's
exactly right. The industry was in total flux.
Vinyl was still dominant, but the compact disc
was rapidly gaining ground and cassettes were
everywhere. So Rev It Up wasn't just released
as a standard seven -inch record. Oh, no. The
release history across different formats is extensive
and, frankly, a collector's dream. Walk us through
what people were actually buying when they went
to the record store to get this single. In the
U .S., it started with a standard set. Why was
the 12 -inch vinyl so important for a track like
this? The 12 -inch single was crucial in the
80s, especially for dance, funk, and club music.
Because the disc is physically larger but still
only holds one or two songs per side, the grooves
cut into the vinyl can be much wider and spaced
further apart. Which means what for the sound?
Wider grooves mean you can press the music much
louder. And specifically, you can capture much
deeper, heavier bass frequencies without the
needle literally jumping out of the groove. Oh,
wow. Yeah, so for a funk track with guys like
Bernie Worrell and Chris Spedding laying down
the low end, the 12 -inch format allowed club
DJs to literally shake the... walls in a way
a smaller seven inch record just couldn't do
that makes perfect sense they also released it
on the relatively new standard compact disc and
this is my personal favorite detail the european
cd video oh yes can you please explain what on
earth the cd video was the cd video or cdv is
one of the great failed experiments of physical
media For those listening who might not remember
them or were born well after their brief lifespan,
a CD video was a disc that looked exactly like
a standard gold -tinted audio CD. Same size and
everything. Same size. You could put it in a
normal CD player and it would play about 20 minutes
of standard audio, but it also held exactly one
analog music video. But you couldn't watch it
on a CD player. Right. To actually watch the
video part, you needed a specific, very expensive
laser disc player. It was a completely transient,
confusing format that tried to bridge the gap
between... audio and home video, but Rev It Up
was immortalized on it for the European market.
We also cannot skip over the mixes themselves,
because I am completely geeking out over the
names of the B -sides and the remixes included
across these different vinyl and CD formats.
The Art of the Remix title was at its absolute
peak right here. Oh, the 1980s was the golden
age of the extended mix and the dub. It wasn't
just about making the song longer, it was about
totally deconstructing it. Exactly. On the B
-side of some releases... you have a track called
Bobby, but specifically the aboriginal mix that
runs almost seven minutes long. Yeah. And on
the 12 -inch and European maxi CD, you get the
teller and back mix of Rev It Up. Which is just
a fantastic, terrible pun. So good. And then,
paying direct homage to their subterranean recording
roots, there is a mix titled Bad Bruce's Wisconsin
Dub. Now, a dub in this context is really interesting.
Taking cues from Jamaican reggae and dancehall,
an 80s dub mix usually meant stripping away most
of the lead vocals, isolating that drum and bass
rhythm section, and heavily manipulating the
track with echo, reverb, and delay effects. So
Bad Bruce's Wisconsin dub would have been this
spacious, trippy, rhythm -heavy version of the
song, which is incredibly ironic given it was
actually recorded in a tight, claustrophobic
bunker. You just don't see naming conventions
like that anymore. Yeah. It gives the whole physical
package so much texture. and geographical personality
before you even put the needle on the record.
Definitely. But despite the Wisconsin dubs and
the underground origins, the appeal of Revin'
Up was undeniably global. It didn't just stay
a local curiosity. Not at all. Let's trace how
far from those origins the song actually traveled
because the chart performance narrative is a
wild ride. Break it down for us. Where does it
start? It starts in the United States. The single
dropped in January 1988. by early february it
debuted at number 35 on the u .s billboard album
rock tracks chart okay this specific chart tracked
airplay on mainstream rock radio stations across
the country and the song didn't just flash and
fade it was a slow steady burn it climbed the
chart for nine weeks until april eventually hitting
its peak at number seven a top ten hit on u .s
rock radio was huge It is. And it stayed on the
charts top 50 for a staggering 16 weeks, eventually
landing at number 31 on the year end rock chart.
That shows serious longevity. It means people
were continually requesting it and DJs genuinely
liked playing it. But it didn't stop at the U
.S. borders. How did it do internationally? This
is where it gets crazy. The song jumps the ocean
and explodes in Oceania. In Australia, it debuted
on the charts in March and climbed all the way
to number three by May. Number three. Yeah. And
over in New Zealand, it was a massive smash,
peaking at number six on the R -A -N -Z singles
chart, spending 15 weeks charting and finishing
at number 40 on their year -end list. Think about
how wild that is. A track cooked up underground
in the American Midwest somehow captures the
exact sonic frequency needed to make people dance
and buy records in Australia and New Zealand.
It's mind -blowing. And from what I read, it
kept traveling even further. It did. It crossed
into Europe, becoming Harrison's only charting
solo single in both the UK, where it hit number
90, and West Germany, where it reached number
45. And eventually it reached the African continent,
peaking at number 14 on the Springbok radio chart
in South Africa and holding a top 20 spot there
for three weeks. So what does this all mean?
Yeah. When you look at all these data points
together, from a U .S. rock radio staple to a
top three hit in Australia, from West Germany
to South Africa. Yeah. You have to step back
and marvel at the journey. You really do. A track
that was literally conceived because a guy wanted
to go home to Wisconsin to help his mom recorded
with old friends in a concrete bunker somehow
transcended all of that. It completely bypassed
the typical, heavily manufactured corporate music
machinery and just resonated purely on the strength
of its groove. It's a beautiful synthesis of
so many disparate elements. You have a familial
obligation leading to geographical isolation.
You have that isolation leading to a reunion
with a childhood acquaintance. You have the acoustic
anomaly of a Cold War barm shelter. You have
the collision of elite funk musicians in a jam
session. Don't forget the babies. Right. You
throw in some toddlers. on big wheels for MTV,
press it onto transient formats like the CD video,
and somehow the alchemy of all those limitations
and weird choices creates an international hit
that dominates global charts for months. It really
is alchemy. It's lightning in a bottle. This
raises an important question. For you listening
right now, we've spent this whole time talking
about how isolation, physical constraints, and
the literal concrete walls of a bunker shape
this record. But in today's modern era of cloud
-based music production where artists can collaborate
instantly from sleek, perfectly tuned bedrooms
across the globe without ever actually meeting
in the same room, are we losing something? Oh,
that's a great point. Are we actually losing
the weird, irreplaceable magic of physical limitations?
When you have infinite tracks, infinite digital
instruments, and no geographical barriers, you
don't have to adapt to a harsh concrete wall
or rely on a spontaneous jam with whoever happens
to be in town. Next time you hear a perfectly
polished, mathematically flawless, modern pop
track, you have to wonder if it might have been
just a little bit better if they were forced
to record it underground. That is exactly the
kind of question we love to leave you with. Constraint
breeds creativity, and perfection can sometimes
be the enemy of groove. Thank you so much for
joining us on this deep dive. Keep asking questions,
keep looking for the strange variables in your
own life, and always look for the surprising
stories hidden in the liner notes. We will catch
you next time.