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Then, over the next half-decade, five more golden oldies - Ben E. The period starts in 1987, when use in two hit film comedies ( Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Back to School) the year before brought The Beatles’ “Twist and Shout” back to the Hot 100 for the first time in 23 years. It was more than 30 years ago, Andrew Unterberger writes: In a fascinating recent article, Billboard dissected the golden age of movies and TV turning old songs into fresh hits. Mostly, Bush’s chart comeback demonstrates her enduring awesomeness-and the changing way we share and quantify what we like. The funny thing is that history itself provides a reality check against that declinist narrative. Plus everyone is listening to vinyl! And watching Elvis! Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” did so because of a skateboarder drinking cranberry juice. Nirvana’s “Something in the Way” charted because of The Batman. Bush’s track isn’t the only decades-old gem getting major shine in recent years. Read music-business news and you find indications that listenership for old songs is outpacing listenership for new ones. Look elsewhere on the pop charts and you encounter new hits that refurbish such bygone aesthetics as ’90s house and 2000s Fergaliciousness. The comeback might seem to feed into a common complaint about modern popular culture: that innovation is dead and everything is recycled.
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1 on the Official Singles Charts: 37 years. In the U.K., it set a record for the slowest-ever rise from release date to No. marked Bush’s highest placement ever in the U.S. TikTok is replete with kids pretending to levitate over the tsunami-warning-like sound of Bush’s synthesizer. Pop radio stations are slotting Bush’s operatic trills between Harry Styles’s mumbles and Lizzo’s flute tooting. Thanks to its placement in the new season of the Netflix sci-fi series Stranger Things, Kate Bush’s 1985 hit “ Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” has again become a global sensation. Today, visual media remain a portal between young listeners and older artists. Listening to CD-Rs filled with songs that had been ripped from the internet, my friends and I warbled to the Pixies’ 1988 oddity “Where Is My Mind?,” moped to Tears for Fears’ 1982 dirge “Mad World” (and its 2001 cover by Gary Jules and Michael Andrews), and mewled to various versions of Leonard Cohen’s 1984 masterpiece “Hallelujah.” These songs had entered our teenage consciousness because they’d been featured in mind-blowing contemporary movies: Fight Club, Donnie Darko, and, of course, Shrek. Much of the music that defined my early-2000s adolescence was written before I could walk.
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