VJS reminisce about good old days on MTV
On Aug. 1, 1981, when MTV first debuted on a handful of U.S. cable systems (with the prophetically chosen Buggles clip “Video Killed the Radio Star”), the term “VJ” didn’t even exist. Nor did much hope for the channel’s survival or success. After all, who was going to watch music 24 hours a day?
Guiding viewers through this brave new world of sight, sound and spandex was a “five-headed Virgil” of on-air hosts, according to “VJ: The Unplugged Adventures of MTV’s First Wave.” And if they looked as if they were chosen specifically by type, they were, filming their wrap-around segments on a ratty, lowbudget set in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen.
You had the elder black hipster (J.J. Jackson), the ethnic hunk (Mark Good- man), the vampy vixen (Nina Blackwood), the goofy All–American jock (Alan Hunter), and the pixieish girl next door/little sister (Martha Quinn).
Four of those original VJs (save Jackson, who died in 2004) offer their reminisces in this oral history of the wacky days, woolly nights and wild times of the channel’s first five years. And with no precedent for the job, the VJs (and a willing crew) often were free to experiment on air.
A contentious interview with David Bowie, chilling on the beach with Jon Bon Jovi, painting a house with John Mellencamp, bowling with Paul Stanley and partying with Ron Wood and David Lee Roth are just some of the celebrity anecdotes told.
But it’s Goodman’s bizarre tale about the then-seemingly momentous decision to cut his trademark huge hair — which would involve a limo, a fancy hotel, firstclass plane ticket and six hours in the chair of world famous stylist José Eber — that perfectly encapsulates the over-the-top times.
At first, music companies were reluctant to “give away” video product. But when sales of acts such as Duran Duran, the Stray Cats or Flock of Seagulls would skyrocket in places like, say, Iowa, directly due to MTV exposure, they took notice. Then there was no stopping the channel’s influence, which reached from suburban living rooms to mall record stores to luxury corporate offices.
Along with the rock and roll, there are sex and drugs — mostly from Goodman’s accounts of trysts with fans and his love of nose candy — but the revelations are fairly tame. More shocking is the revelation that the VJs’ presence on the channel only seemed constant. They were usually on air only four minutes out of every hour.
The book also details the grudges and slights — some genuine, some situational — VJs held against executives from the channel over money and rights while they were on the air.
Most of them agree that the channel’s carpet coverage of 1985’s Live Aid concerts marked both the pinnacle of their powers and exposure. It was also the beginning of the original Fab Five’s separation from the channel — whether voluntary or not.
All would go through highs and lows in their post-MTV career. At one point shortly after leaving, the nationally famous Quinn found herself standing in line at the unemployment office, desperately hoping not to be recognized. But the four surviving VJs can be heard today on Sirius XM radio, most often on the “’80’s on 8” channel.
“VJ” also is a great, more personal companion volume to “I Want My MTV,” the definitive oral history of the channel in which the VJs also participated.
Ironically, today’s Music Television doesn’t even play music videos, opting for a slate of reality shows of Young People Behaving Badly (“Teen Mom,” “Jersey Shore,” “My Super Sweet 16”). And with the advent of iTunes, YouTube and commercial placement, the idea of using a staged and choreographed video to sell a song to the masses seems quaint.
But for a brief shining moment, viewers could hear songs and see videos by Mötley Crüe, Bruce Springsteen, the Thompson Twins, Michael Jackson, the Pretenders and Cyndi Lauper — all jammed together on one playlist like a big Reaganera happy family. And for a whole generation, it was those initial five VJs who first ushered these crazy houseguests into their living rooms. Bob Ruggiero is a Houstonbased freelance writer and ’80s teen who once sported an incredible mullet with special powers.