WAY BACK IN 1984, way back when people actually believed in “trickle-down economics,” I was living in Scottsdale, Arizona, but I wasn’t getting out much. I had succumbed to the ubiquitous peer pressure question of “Why do you live in the past when it comes to music?” and purchased a couple of albums by the Psychedelic Furs.
When the Furs came to play at the Mesa Amphitheatre, my wife and I sprang for tickets. This was a big deal for us as we tended not to like live rock music because it had gotten so loud, while the audiences were getting equally loud and the often rude and obnoxious.
This article was originally published in 2015 but has been abridged for re-publication in 2021.
It was a damn near perfect Arizona evening and we got there early to find choice spots on the grassy incline looking down into the stage. We were almost certainly high and possibly sharing a half a piece of acidized paper (those were the days).
So it was that an anonymous group of girls with instruments found their way onto the stage. I choose those words carefully: “girls” because they looked young, dressed young—like girls rather than women. And I say “found” because I swear they all looked and acted like they had just been jarred out of a long nap after a long, hard night.
We prepared for the worst.
The Bangles’ first album ALL OVER THE PLACE was only a few months old when we saw them. And what a great first album it was: great songs with infectious hooks, ringing guitars, sunshine harmonies, a bouncing propulsive rhythm section, and boundless good vibrations!how could we not like anything that sounded and felt like the Sixties?
Getting out of hand
I really don’t remember their opening number nor do I care what their set list was. But I remember them doing the the Grass Roots’ Where Were You When I Needed You and a few other ’60s classics (Yardbirds? Paul Revere & the Raiders?). We were pleasantly surprised by the lead singer’s ringing voice, the rough but fine harmonies, and the band’s instrumental chops.
Somebody told us that if we liked this then we would like the album. We bought the album and played it all over the place for months!
And the rest of the original article wasn’t very good, so I just removed it. Instead, I am focusing on the group’s first record, the single Getting Out Of Hand / Call One Me.
• It was originally released in 1981 on the itty-bitty Down Kiddie Records (DK001) when the group was a trio calling themselves The Bangs. There were two pressings of the record, one with blue labels and the other with yellow labels. Both records were issued with the same picture sleeve.
• The record was reissued in 1982 or ’83 when the group was a quartet calling themsleves The Bangles. It was still Down Kiddie DK001 and again there were two pressings of the record, one with green labels and the other with red labels. Both records were issued with the same picture sleeve.
First pressings credit the Bangs and the picture sleeve features the group as a trio. The record was pressed with blue labels and red labels; both records with the sleeve have a suggested NM value of $80-100.
After the group’s initial success, Downkiddie reissued the record with a new label and a new sleeve, this time identifying the trio by the quartet’s name. The record was pressed with a green labela an a red label; both records with the sleeve have a suggested NM value of $30-40.
I thought they were the Bangs
For the recrds above, I was unable to determine the order in which they were issued. Apparently neither does anyone else on the internet. Finally, the title of this article (“The Bangs and The Bangles’ Versions Of Getting Out Of Hand”) is misleading as both versions of both sides of all four records are the same recordings.
FEATURED IMAGE: The photo at the top of this page is the Bangles on the Champs Elysees television show in France in 1987. (Photo by Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty.) This brief piece was originally written earlier this morning as a comment on an article titled “Bangling” at Nondisposable Johnny’s The Round Place In The Middle blog.