This article was written by The Zillennial Zine’s spring editorial intern Henry Ryeder. Find him on Instagram at @henryryeder. If you would like to share an article with The Zillennial, send us an email at thezillennialzine@gmail.com.
1982. MTV rules the airwaves in the Western world, Top of the Pops pushes UK bands to superstardom, and new styles of music have taken full command of the charts. While the newly furnished synth pop of the early 80’s might be taking hold in the global consciousness, one band in particular is intent on railing against the growing trend. As a matter of fact, they’re fairly concerted in railing against most facets of the music industry. Led by the unmistakable hiccup croon of Kevin Rowland, Dexy’s Midnight Runners are poised to make history…even if nobody knows it.
Today, Dexy’s Midnight Runners is synonymous with the notorious moniker of “one hit wonder.” Their massive hit “Come On Eileen” is one of the most famous English-language songs of the 1980’s. Brilliantly produced, remarkably melodic, and brazenly flying in the face of contemporary, cookie-cutter synth drivel, “Eileen” has managed to stay relevant for more than four decades. Not only does it still stir crowds to the dance-floor at weddings and Bar Mitzvahs, it comes back in strange, coded language. A 2004 cover of “Eileen” entitled “Come On England” was tracked by the band 4-4-2 to celebrate England’s National Football team in that year’s UEFA championship. I have vivid memories of memes in early 2020 encouraging viewers to hum the song’s chorus melody to the phrase “COVID-19.”
Yet the story behind “Come On Eileen” is wrapped in an all-too-familiar one of trial, error, and disillusionment. Kevin Rowland, lead singer and songwriter of Dexy’s Midnight Runners, formed the band in 1978 in Birmingham. At this time, several movements were taking place which were radically transforming the face of English music, all with some overlap. New Wave was slowly gaining pop prestige through the up-tempo, synth-laden wizardry of Duran Duran, The Police, and Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark. Punk had been gnawing at the cultural consciousness for two years through the likes of the Sex Pistols and the Slits. Punk itself had burned so brightly and quickly that it was already spawning mini-movements that spoke to punk’s anarchic spirit, such as the New Wave-Punk crossover Joy Division, and the Clash.
The Clash incorporated a third musical movement in their punk-addled musings. Along with New Wave and Punk, Ska was becoming one of the most popular styles in British pop. This music, an amalgamation of Caribbean and R&B from the 50’s and 60’s, resonated with a generation of young people raised on obscure soul records. A subgenre of Ska, Northern Soul, emerged in the early 70’s as an offshoot of the British Mod movement. Northern Soul is notable for its early integration of disc-jockeying as an art form; DJ’s would sustain Northern Soul by finding overlooked records, not necessarily by performing and recording new music.
It was in this stew of musical influence that Kevin Rowland formed Dexy’s Midnight Runners. Seeking to incorporate his love of Northern Soul into the emerging Ska and Punk scenes, Rowland took a novel approach to conventional rock band arrangements, adding a three-piece horn section. As a bandleader, Rowland was borderline autocratic, instructing the members of his 8-piece group to quit their jobs so that they could practice 9 AM – 5 PM daily. This regimen made them a formidable presence live, and opening spots for Ska impresarios the Specials followed.
But it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. The group’s unique blend of Ska and Punk was seen as a novelty by many, and a brief stint on the charts with their single “Geno” was followed by malaise and label disapproval. In response, the group, still headed by Rowland, lashed out. Rather than giving interviews, the group took out adverts in newspapers with pre-written statements. EMI dropped them, and in 1981, several members of Dexy’s quit to form another band, Blue Ox Babes, fronted by former Dexy’s guitarist Kevin Archer. While the breakup was acrimonious, Archer left some Rowland some demo tapes of his new band, featuring tempo changes and more Celtic influences.
Rowland wasn’t about to quit. Incorporating Archer’s arrangement choices and infusing Dexy’s with even more Celtic verve by adding a three-piece string section, Rowland worked out “Come On Eileen” through a series of demos over the course of several months. While the lyrics describe the sexual repression Rowland experienced as an Irish Catholic schoolboy (Eileen is a “composite” of desirous and lustful teenage images), the lyrics are intentionally muddled by Rowland’s vocal delivery. Still, the sheer ear-worm of the chorus and the sing-along “Too-Loo-Rye-Aye” was enough to send “Eileen” to the top of the charts in 1982. The track was released months later in the U.S., knocking Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” off the top of the Billboard Hot 100.
Yet the success tinged with tragedy. Despite achieving his dream of becoming a popular act in America, Rowland still felt that his work wasn’t being taken seriously. Descending into a pill and cocaine addiction, Rowland sank to a low point while opening for David Bowie during that artist’s worldwide “Serious Moonlight” tour in 1983. Performing in France and listening to a crowd of thousands clamor for Bowie, the Dexys singer launched into a tirade, demeaning the audience for wishing to see “A pale imitation of Bryan Ferry.” As amusing I find this, Bowie was apparently not impressed. The plug was pulled on the band mid-set, and Dexys were uninvited from their second scheduled opening slot on the Serious Moonlight tour.
Yet in the aftermath of their greatest success, Rowland and his band created what many call their opus. Released in 1985, “Don’t Stand Me Down” was a more measured, serious affair than the early 80’s highs of the “Eileen” record “Too-Rye-Aye.” The record spawned no singles and flopped, leading to Dexys dissolving in 1987. Yet despite its contemporary commercial and critical failure, “Stand Me Down” has become regarded as one of the best albums of the 1980’s.
Decades following the runaway success of Eileen, Dexys Midnight Runners have continued performing recording. While none of their music has so effectively captured the marketplace’s attention as “Come On Eileen,” their resilience and commitment are emblematic of what Rowland and his team had always sought out to do: make music.
PS: On a personal note, this is my last article for the Zillennial Zine. Thank you, thank you, thank you to Sabrina Grimaldi, editor-extraordinaire, for providing me this opportunity and letting me write on some truly gnarly topics. It’s been an honor and a privilege sharing my voice with my fellow collaborators here on Zillennial and with anyone reading.
As the years go on, it will be fascinating to come back and read these pieces. It’ll be strange and wonderful to see my voice coalescing and evolving from week to week. This is a pretty harrowing time to be a conscious media consumer, and I’m fairly certain it will be that way for quite a while. Yet this platform has provided me with something I never thought I needed or deserved: a place to turn my despair and angst into actionable optimism.
I’ll probably be bickering in the years to come that my ’96-issued physical form is truly “Zillennial.” But if writing for this publication has taught me anything, it’s that I feel much more ideologically aligned with my younger peers than my older peers. In the words of one of my favorite artists, “It’s taken me a long time to get young. And now I consider myself young.”
So let the terrible little leaders and their terrible little kingdoms try to convince us of our powerlessness and naïveté. In the words of Dexys Midnight Runners, “We are far too young and clever.”
Sincerely,
Henry Ryeder
What do you think about the story behind Come On Eileen? Leave a comment below!
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