If there’s ever been an artist who embodied proto-Jheri Curl Music without ever quite crossing over into J.C.M. proper, it’s Nile Rodgers. As the guitarist and co-producer behind disco innovators Chic, Rodgers played a key role in the creation of the more streamlined “post-disco” sound; yet by the early ’80s and the dawn of what we call the Jheri Curl Era (JCE), he had taken a left turn from the majority of his acolytes, moving in more of a pop direction with his solo debut Adventures in the Land of the Good Groove and high-profile productions for the likes of David Bowie, Madonna, and Duran Duran.
Rodgers’ second album, 1985’s B-Movie Matinee, is no exception; it isn’t quite Jheri Curl Music, though it certainly has elements in common–dig, for example, the electro-style programmed bassline and bright, brassy synths that open “Let’s Go Out Tonight,” one of two singles released from the album (and, incidentally, the only one of Rodgers’ solo singles to crack the Hot 100). But then again, J.C.M. itself was kind of on the wane by 1985; and even if it isn’t quite orthodox Jheri Curl, how could I refuse myself the opportunity to share this absolutely bonkers video, which features Rodgers (wearing some kind of futuristic Cosby sweater) bringing a Japanese Bunraku marionette to life, taking her out on a date, and then seemingly turning into a marionette himself? Besides, Nile Rodgers wrote the Soul Glo jingle; even if his rhythm guitar style hadn’t influenced virtually every artist we’ve written about for Jheri Curl June, that alone would ensure his place in JCM history remains secure.
We’ll be back tomorrow with more picks from the latter-day JCE; in the meantime, playlists are below.
So, let’s begin with the elephant in the room. As you might recall, last year the month of June began mere days after the police murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, which made the idea of a semi-irreverent celebration of dated Black music and hairstyles by two privileged White people feel… tone-deaf, to say the least. It was also, of course, less than three months into a once-in-a-lifetime (knock on wood) global pandemic… long story short, we just weren’t in a party mood. But now it’s a year later; and, while the copsstillhaven’tstopped killing Black people–nor, despite what our respective homestates‘ governors apparently think, is the pandemic over–I think we could all use the mood lift that only the smoothest, silkiest ’80s R&B can provide.
For those of you who are new here (or just need a refresher), “Jheri Curl Music” is our name for a specific brand of glossy, heavily synthesized post-disco R&B music from the early-to-mid ’80s–it’s kind of like our yacht rock, except not even 1% as successful or widely recognized. For details, see our original introduction post from 2014, our 2016 video, or our 2018 podcast. We dedicate each June to celebrating this unsung art form: mostly because “Jheri Curl” and “June” are nicely alliterative, but also because early summer is the perfect time to roll down your windows, let the wind blow through your hair (or, if you’re rocking a J.C. yourself, let it blow kind of against and around your hair), and blast some vintage J.C.M.
This year’s Jheri Curl June is a back-to-basics move for us. There will be no long-form artist/producer retrospectives (like we did for Prince, Michael Jackson, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, L.A. Reid, Jesse Johnson, and André Cymone), no Jheri Curl Cinema features (like we did for Purple Rain, The Last Dragon, Moonwalker, and Coming to America), and no special podcast episodes; just a J.C.M. song every weekday for the whole month, with Spotify and YouTube playlists for your listening pleasure. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t spend our seventh year stretching the boundaries of what belongs under the J.C.M.-brella. That’s why this year, I’m kicking things off with a possibly controversial choice: Eddy Grant’s 1982 reggae-funk hit “Electric Avenue.”
On the surface, reggae and Jheri Curl Music don’t appear to have much in common, aside from their general origins in the African musical diaspora. Hell, just look at each respective genre’s trademark hairstyle: Jheri curls, as has been well established, are glossy and determinedly non-kinky; meanwhile, Rastafari locs (a.k.a. “dreadlocks”) embrace the organic textures of African hair types. Jheri curls have a well-earned reputation for being synthetic and potentially damaging to Black people’s hair follicles (not to mention their furniture), while locs are (rightfully) celebrated as a “natural” hairstyle and an expression of pan-African pride.
And yet, “Electric Avenue” is proof that even styles as diametrically opposed as these can exist in harmony. Oh, sure, Eddy Grant probably wouldn’t have been caught dead with activator in his hair; but who needs an actual Jheri curl when your keyboards are as moist and juicy as the ones on “Electric Avenue”? Meanwhile, Grant’s lyrics–a righteously angry ode to the 1981 uprisings against racist policing and systemic poverty in Brixton, South London–show that Jheri Curl Music, like reggae, can have a political point of view. As far as this writer is concerned, “Electric Avenue” belongs right next to Paul Laurence‘s “Racism!!!” on any self-respecting J.C.M. protest mix.
Speaking of mixes, below you’ll find Spotify and YouTube playlists for this month’s festivities, which we’ll update with every new track. Unfortunately, the Spotify list is currently empty, as “Electric Avenue” does not appear to be available on the service. We can’t blame Eddy Grant, if this was his choice: a banger like this is worth a lot more than the fraction of a cent a Spotify stream earns. But I think we can all agree that our playlists are a little bit weaker for its absence. See you tomorrow!
This year marks our fifth annual Jheri Curl June, and we’re going to make it a thing or die trying. Join us as we define the Jheri Curl Music genre and share our picks for the most essential tracks; then, starting Monday, we’ll formally kick off the month-long celebration of wet, silky ’80s R&B. Oh, and listen all the way to the end, because we also announce the winners of our two free copies of Dystopian Dance Party Issue 1!
When we decided to expand the focus of Jheri Curl June last year to include cinema, I knew there were two films I absolutely had to write about: Purple Rain and Coming to America. As it turned out, I was only able to work the former into our schedule. This year, however, I’m making amends.
Coming to America, directed by John Landis in 1988, has done more for the continued relevance of the jheri curl than any other cultural force save, perhaps, for Michael Jackson. Run a Google Image or YouTube search for “jheri curl”–which I have, many more times than I should probably admit, in the course of my duties for this blog–and references to Coming to America will almost certainly be among the first hits. For that matter, just bring up the moviein conversation, and chances are the scenes you remember will be jheri-curl-related: the couch stained with activator grease, Randy Watson and Sexual Chocolate (see above), fuckin’ Soul Glo. Coming to America isn’t just Jheri Curl Cinema: it’s practically cinema about jheri curls.
It’s finally here! In case you weren’t aware, Jheri Curl June is our most sacred holiday season here at Dystopian Dance Party, and we wanted to do something special for its third annual observance (“Jh3ri Curl Jun3”). So, instead of resurrecting the same hoary old introductory post from 2014, we thought we’d offer a concise introduction to the genre we call Jheri Curl Music in the form of a short video. Please enjoy; transcript and video/audio credits are past the jump. And come back tomorrow for some more traditional Jheri Curl June fare!
That’s right, folks, it’s finally here: Jheri Curl June has returned, and this year it’s going to be even better than before. For those of you new to the party, I wrote an introduction last year that I highly recommend, as it provides a definition and brief history of the genre we like to call Jheri Curl Music. In brief, though, JCM is R&B music, primarily from the early-to-mid-1980s, that “embodies the properties of the jheri curl itself.” It’s “an intrinsically hybrid style: somewhere between Black and white, kinky and straight, silky and dry. It’s fussy and high-maintenance. And, like the Jheri curl parody ‘Soul Glo‘ in John Landis’ 1988 comedy Coming to America, it leaves a greasy residue on everything it touches.”
This year’s Jheri Curl June will follow the same basic format as last year’s: every weekday, we’ll update with a brief post highlighting a classic JCM cut, which we’ll also add to a growing Spotify playlist to be found at the bottom of each post. We’ll always try to provide something visual along with the music–jheri curl is, after all, a profoundly visual genre–but this time around we’re going to be a little less dependent on video clips, as there’s a lot of great jheri curl music that isn’t on YouTube (there’s a lot that isn’t on Spotify, too, but that’s a separate issue). Every week, probably on Fridays, we’ll also have a special feature post that goes into greater depth on a particular artist, album, or film. That’s right, I said film…look forward to a more in-depth discussion of Jheri Curl Cinema next week.
Right now, though, I want to get right to the festivities. So join me after the jump, and find out who’s kicking off the second annual Jheri Curl June.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a new form of predominantly African American popular music began to take shape. Rooted in soul and funk music, but largely stripped of those genres’ grit; with elements of rock and disco, and at least one eye forever resting on potential radio play; the loosely-defined style has gone by a variety of names, including post-disco, pop/funk, and the maddeningly nondescript “urban.” But Callie and I have always preferred to call it “Jheri Curl Music.”
Jheri Curl Music is not necessarily music made by artists sporting the once-trendy hairstyle invented by hairdresser Robert William “Jheri” Redding–though obviously there is a good amount of overlap. Instead, we see it as music that embodies the properties of the Jheri curl itself. Jheri curl, whether the hair or the music, is an intrinsically hybrid style: somewhere between Black and white, kinky and straight, silky and dry. It’s fussy and high-maintenance. And, like the Jheri curl parody “Soul Glo” in John Landis’ 1988 comedy Coming to America, it leaves a greasy residue on everything it touches. Not all R&B from the early to mid-’80s qualifies as J.C.M.; but when you hear that telltale sign–usually a particular kind of muted guitar, clean slapped bass, or synthesizer squeal–you will recognize it instantly for what it is.
Along with its namesake hairdo, jheri curl music faded from mainstream popularity by the end of the 1980s: eclipsed largely by another hybrid R&B style, the hip-hop-influenced New Jack Swing (or maybe we should call it “hi-top fade music”). But it’s never really gone away. Tune in to the obligatory “old-school hour” on any Adult Contemporary R&B radio station worth its salt, and you’ll hear plenty of jheri curl alongside the smooth soul and quiet storm. In recent years, too, the career resurgences of jheri-curl innovators Prince and (posthumously) Michael Jackson–not to mention the coming of age of legions of ’80s kids–have driven a critical and popular reappraisal of music that would have been considered dated and kitschy twenty years ago. Indeed, the sound has been steadily creeping back into contemporary artists’ repertoires since the early 2000s or so: everyone from Snoop Dogg to Daft Punk has gone to the jheri curl well at least a few times, while artists like Dâm-Funk and Chromeo have made it a foundation of their musical styles.
So for the month of June, we’ll be celebrating jheri curl music with a new classic jheri curl video every weekday. Why? Basically because we love J.C.M., and the month of June starts with a “J” (and “Jheri Curl July” just doesn’t sound as good as “Jheri Curl June”). We’ll also be adding to the Spotify playlist at the bottom of this and every other Jheri Curl June post, so you can have easy access to a bunch of classic Jheri curl cuts to bump in your home, car, gym, or hair salon. Today, I’m kicking things off with what might be my choice for the ultimate jheri-curl song, Carl Carlton‘s 1981 single “She’s a Bad Mama Jama (She’s Built, She’s Stacked)”:
“Bad Mama Jama” has a lot of things to recommend it as a classic of J.C.M.: including its lascivious lyrics in the tradition of the Commodores’ “Brick House,” praising a woman who’s “got all the curves a man like” and gets Carl “so excited viewing her anatomy.” But what really makes it for me is that bass synth line, as curly and wet as Carlton’s hairdo. The song is the essence of Jheri curl: sleek, stylish, and more than a little sleazy. I can’t think of a better way to kick off Jheri Curl June.
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